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] In a fantasy world full of magic, a man with a golden mask gives you a strange pocket watch and teaches you powers beyond the standards of your world.	[ "There was once a blind man who was very lonely. All he ever had was a golden mask and a stopwatch, none knew what he could perform as he grew up isolated in the world.\n\nHis life was fruitful and peaceful, until the tyrant attacked his home. Cut and Slash, none of them ever survived except for him. Stripped from who he was, now he wonders from the ruined streets of his village. His place was called the Isolation, much like him and how he grew up.\n\nNone ever thought to talk to him nor inquired to him about his life. None knew but the rumors that spread among the land, the war was over but the damage that was dealt to his life was still present. \n\nWhat is magic when one can’t bring back what made his life bloom in color? What is magic when it can’t make the thought of grieve a mere illusion instead of reality? This was his words as I stumbled upon his place, all beaten up by the mystical race of the Lycanthropy.\n\n I was alone and hungry, all I had left within me was my spite and hatred that my family was making me feel. Pain was all that was ever to it. Walking around the abandoned village and wondering where to go, unknowing the horrors that happened in this place.\n\nThe place was ash gray, the buildings were burned and the sky seemed to magnify the depressing vibe the place was giving. This must be a small village that was burned I thought.\n\nIt was all the same black burnt destroyed wood until a silhouette of a man from the shadows was seen. “Hey there!” I said waving my arms. What feelings of hope that crossed me was unknown. \n\nI kept walking and walking until I stopped as the man stepped out from the shadows. Revealing a tall old man with a bald head and a soggy face. He wore a suit that didn’t fit him that he had to rip the cloth off, his body was dirty from the ash as if he was just attacked.\n\nHe terrified me as he grinned and offered his hand, I slowly backed and ran as I turned around. Running from wherever I started, until I started feeling nauseous. I haven’t eaten in a few days I remembered.\n\nI slowed down until I stopped running and dropped on my knees. I started having heavy breathes until I feel a hand touch my shoulder, It was the man *I could feel it.\n\nI look around and saw him smiling at me, now wearing a golden mask that looked like those mask that you see in theaters. “You’re tired, and hungry. Here let me help you” He said as he touched my hips, dragging me away as I slipped into darkness.", "\"Why me?\"\n\nHe gave his usual laugh again and took one last look at the watch. \"I can not answer that. Only you have the answer you seek.\"\n\n...\n\n\"What's the use of a pocketwatch that ticks backward? Maybe it's broken?\"\n\nI smiled and watched as the hand clicked behind the twelve. \"No, it works just fine. It isn't for telling time, it's counting down.\" I rose from the stool and placed a few notes upon the counter. \"Thanks for the drink.\"\n\nThe door slammed against the wall and I could hear the cry of rage. The barkeep's eyes grew in surprise and he dropped my dirty glass. The glass froze in the air, the look of fear stuck on his face. A strand of flame hover behind me, a glow of orange surrounding it.\n\nI walked slowly toward the string of flame it seemed to back away. Streaming back through the air. Other patrons scrambled backward to their seats, collapsing into tilted chairs and pulling back to the table. A bowl of tossed nuts gathered back to their place and safely lowered back to the rocking table.\n\nThe stream of fire finally entered into the stranger's hand and he closed his roaring face. He leapt back from the door and landed outside. I didn't recognize him, but that's not entirely surprising anymore, I suppose it is a fairly hefty price by now. The people began to slowly move, they shifted their bodies forward beginning to take a step. I planted a fist in his stomach and aimed another at his jaw, I swung a few more times before they all froze in place again.\n\nSatisfied I returned to the tavern, the patrons remained in their seats as they had before I stood. The barkeep gestured to the pocketwatch and shrugged.\n\n\"Counting down to what?\" He asked while refilling my glass.\n\n\"Dunno.\" I shrugged rising from my stool.\n\nOutside the tavern the man lay on the ground groaning in pain. I stepped over him and quickly headed out of town. Two more men dressed the same as the first were standing across from the tavern. Waiting until the bridge outside of town I whipped around to see a blade inches from my chest. The other man stood to my side a small blade in hand.\n\nThe men began slowly duck and lean towards me. I lifted the sword from the mans hand and plunged it into his chest. Allowing them to freeze again I prepared for the next man. There was a brush of wind across my face and I heard the chirp of bird. Suddenly a pain welled up from my side and I felt as a blade protruded from my side. I stumbled back crashing into the fence. The boards have way and I fell from the bridge.\n\nAs I plummeted down to the river below I saw the familiar shine of gold. A shroud of cold wrapped around me and red began to pollute the water. Gripping the pocketwatch tight I pulled myself toward the bank. Flicking the latch I looked at the face of the watch, the hands met at the twelve and there was the sound of a bell, twelve rings. Then the hands returned to normal ticking in reverse.\n\n_\n\nr/theoreticalfictions" ]	2
	[WP] The Undead members of the Necromancer's kingdom say they have better work conditions than they did in Life. Necromancers are genuinely respected and loved. This gives the Heroes pause.	[ " It all began in a tavern. \n\nThe smell of ale and sweat hung in the air like a cloud as the robed figure entered. The grumbling of patrons stopped only momentarily to stare at the man. Some laughed, some groused, most merely went back to their flaggons without a second thought. \n\nThe figure approached the bar where the stocky man was wiping down the counter of spilled liquid. He cleared his throat, but the effort was such a small and quiet sound that the barkeep hadn’t heard. Or didn’t care. \n\n“Excuse me, fine sir?”\n\nThe man looked up from his work. A short, frail looking young man in clerical robes stood with a naive looking smile. His sandy hair was longer than it should be and messy, covering half off his face and looking very unkempt. His white robes looked somehow more out of place than the clueless expression that occupied his face. \n\n“What can I get ya?” he said, after the moment’s pause between the two hung in the air and grew awkward.\n\nThe cleric shook his head and waved his hand. “Oh no no, nothing to drink sir. I was curious if you could point me in the direction of a warrior who might be interested in some work.”\n\nThe overall chuckling sounds around the man made him glance back and forth between the barkeep and those at the bar. “What’s the matter holy man? Can’t get yer god to protect you?” A bout of uproarious laughter seemed to be lost on the man as he looked back to the barkeep, expectantly. The grizzled man rubbed his chin.\n\n“Which way are you headed?”\n\n“To the East.”\n\nThis brought another round of laughter as well as a few raised eyebrows. The barkeep shook his head. “If you’re headed east, you’re out of luck. No one is really up for heading that way.” The young man let out a sigh and nodded, muttering a thank you. As he turned to leave one of the patrons clapped him roughly on the shoulder. \n\n“If ye aren’t too particular, maybe that fellow in the corner will help you?” The drunk pointed to the far back corner of the tavern. “I heard he’s a paladin. You’re religious, maybe he’ll help you!” This, for some reason, brought up another bout of hooting and chortling. But the mood was lost on the man as his crestfallen disposition turned to hope as he made his way through the tavern. \n\nThe man in the corner was as bad off as the rest of the tavern, smelly and drunk. He was chugging back a pint when the younger man approached, clearing his throat. \n\n“Excuse\\-”\n\n“Step off. I’m not interested.”\n\nThe robed man sputtered, but righted himself again. “The gentleman at the bar told me you might be able to help me? I am looking for an escort to the East.”\n\nThe man looked at the younger blankly through bleary, ale ridden eyes. His hair was thick and wild, almost to his shoulders. The stubble on his face and the state of his wrinkled clothes told he hadn’t cleaned himself in quite a while. Next to him in the booth was a cloak wrapped bundle with the edge of a sword poking out one end. \n\n“What in the hells are you needing to go East for?” \n\n“Well,” the younger man said, his voice as bright as his smile. “There is a village across the way, past Ezhenwold and the Black Mountains. It’s suffered from the Fel\\-Plague, and I need to get to the people.”\n\nThe would be paladin looked at the man, before going back to his drink.\n\n“Can’t help ya.”\n\n“Please.” the robed man said in earnest “The man at the bar said you were a paladin, and it’s for a good cause and\\-” \n“Look.” the icy tone in his voice shut the younger man up. “I’m not a paladin. Not anymore. I kill freaks of nature when they get in my way, and after I’ve been paid I move on to the next curse riddled hamlet I can find and drink until I run out of gold. And currently?” he patted the bundle next to him, the sounds of muffled clinking coming from it. “I’m still doing pretty good for myself. So if you don’t mind, go back to your temple and leave me alone. I’m still to sober.”\n\nA little dejectedly, the robed man took a step back and sighed. He gave a slight thank you, and turned, exiting the tavern. The once paladin didn’t watch him go, merely flagged down another refill and tossed the coin on the table. A few hours more, he was passed out in the corner. \n\n\\-\\-\\-\\-\n\nWater. No, mud. Gritty nasty earth in his mouth. Coughing he pushed himself up, the mire dripping from his face. His sudden movement caused a throbbing ache and he clutched the sides of his head. \n\n“There there…” \n\nThe voice. Familiar? He looked to his left and saw a young looking man in robes… the cleric? His hand was glowing a soft gray as the pain in his head subsided. \n\n“What happened?” he croaked, struggling to stand. His body, while starting to feel better, was still screaming in pain as if he’d been run over by a herd of horses. He looked around. Barren land stretched out, and in the distance he could see flickering town lights. \n\n“Bandit raid. Ran through the town and sacked it…” The young man looked down, his face pained. “There were no casualties but… They did seem to take great pleasure in beating you in your sleep. I think they cast you out for dead…”\n\nThe man growled and struggled to his feet, reaching for his side… And found nothing. \n\n“They stole my gear.” he said, his voice almost growling with rage. The man stood next to him, dusting the grime from his robes with a wave of magic from his fingertips. \n\n“They stole much. Wagons worth of goods.”\n\nBefore he could continue the paladin began to walk towards the town. The young man fell into step beside him. “Where are you going?”\n\n“The only place a group of bandit’s could go after a hit and run operation like this would be the ash woods. Ezhenwold has plenty of hiding spots to serve as a bandit camp. I’m going to get my gear back and bust a few heads.”\n\n“I see. I will go with you.”\n\n“I don’t need a body to protect.” the paladin said angrily. “You’ll just get in the way.”\n\n“Well… The village I must get to is on the other side of the mountains as well.”\n\n“I’m not your escort.”\n\n“I’m not asking you to be.” he said with a smile, much to the paladin’s chagrin. “I’m just walking in the same direction as you.”\n\n“Fine. Just stay out of my way.” The two began their way back to the lonely town, the paladin cursing under his breath. If he believed in the gods anymore, he would curse them. \n\n\n\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\-\\- \n\n\nI had this idea a ways back. It's not done, but then again I feel like the long game is more required for this sort of story. This is the world that was invoked by the prompt. Idk, maybe i\"ll keep going? I'm rusty when it comes to writing. ", "Raif kicked open the door of the room where undead slaves were being held prisoner, waiting to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. He and his two companions, Kalo and Hargin, were here to free these poor creatures from an unlife of doing whatever their cruel new master would order. But not today. Not for these lucky few. No, today these undead people were going to\\-\n\ndrink tea? Raif hesitated just inside the door as it swung back halfway with a slight creak. He had expected half\\-rotted humanoids chained to the walls, or locked in cages, not this... this... tea party! This room was well\\-lit, practically cozy. Had they gotten the wrong place? These people looked... well, they were still corpses, but they looked like well cared for corpses. And all of them were looking at him.\n\nKalo joined him in the doorway, wiping the blood of the guards off her sword. 'Umm... are those the undead slaves you said we came here to free? Why does it look like they're having a tea party? Aren't they scheduled to go up for auction tomorrow?'\n\nRaif started to affirm, but one of the slaves interrupted. 'Can we help you? You don't look like you belong here. If you're looking for the dance club, it's a few buildings over.'\n\n'I'm sorry, what?'\n\n'If you're looking for the dance club Afterlife, it's a few doors over. This is the auction house,' the prisoner responded.\n\nNot the wrong place then. 'I don't understand,' Raif said. 'Why are you drinking tea? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, tied up or something?'\n\nThe undead laughed, sounding like dry leaves being crushed. 'Tied up? Why would we be tied up?'\n\n'Well, you might run away otherwise,' Raif answered.\n\nMore laughter. 'Run away? Whatever for?'\n\n'So you don't get sold to an abusive master and be forced to live in squalid living conditions?' Raif said the words, but he was starting to wonder if they were actually true. 'We're here to rescue you.'\n\nWith a whispery sigh, the spokesman for the undead sat his teacup down and stood to approach the three would\\-be heroes. Raif and his companions recoiled a little, but the undead only stuck out his hand and introduced himself. 'Hi, I'm Robert, and I don't need rescued.'\n\n'Are... are you sure? Hargin asked. 'We kind of came a long way to help you.'\n\n'We're sure,' Robert said as his fellows behind him nodded. 'We actually kind of like it here. A lot of us are much better off than we ever were when we were alive. We all have homes, clean clothes, and even though we don't really need it, the masters often give us treats like cake and mulled wine.'\n\n'Mulled... what?!' Raif cried. His Lord never gave him mulled wine.\n\n'Mulled wine. You know, heated wine with spices added to it. It's quite delightful, especially on cold winter nights,' Robert said before frowning. 'Not that we really mind the cold, being dead and all.'\n\n'I know what mulled wine is!' Raif snapped. He could not believe what he was hearing. This went against everything he had ever heard about Necromancers and undead. 'What I don't know is why you're all sitting here having tea and telling me that your masters, who dig up dead bodies to bring back to life and use as slaves, give you cake and mulled wine. They could literally beat you to death for fun, then bring you back to life to do it again, and they give you mulled wine?'\n\nRobert tutted. 'Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to raise the dead? Clearly not, if you think our masters would commit such an atrocity for fun. They take very good care of us, because they know the cost of bringing a creature back to life.' He eyed the travelers up and down. 'Well, thank you for your offer of.... rescue... but you should probably be going now. I do highly recommend the Afterlife, if you're looking to have a fun night out, since you came all this way. Their drinks are to die for.'\n\nNot knowing what else to say, Raif and his companions turned around and left. Robert returned to his seat, raising his cup to his lips as he muttered. 'Beat to death for fun... what kind of barbarians does he think we are over here? Oh, and now my tea's cold. Drat.'" ]	2
	[WP] You’re a super intelligent being assigned to Earth to look out for humanity. You care for them and guide them from the shadows and the background, until one day the thing you’ve been waiting for finally happens. In 1915 a human smarter than you emerges. His name is Albert Einstein.	[ "My creator sent me here, the person they all refer to as ‘God’, or at least they used to. He called me his son, but I feel like nothing more than his slave. For years I’ve had to silently watch over this species, never allowed to take a commanding role, never allowed to rule a nation. I could make earth better than Argon - all those years ago. Before he destroyed that too.\n\nI watch over this planet like it’s my own. I’ve been trying to find the most intelligent humans to guide their species to great heights. However, they’re never quite ‘all there’.\nOn this planet, women are treated like my people were on Argon. We were always considered inferior. I had never been interested in a human, that was until I met Pauline. I was in awe of her. She was perfect. I watched over her for months, years even. But, one day, she was in serious danger. I had to choose between either following my ‘fathers’ wishes or saving the woman of my dreams. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I feel I made the right one. After I had saved her, she wouldn’t stop asking how I got to her so fast and I just couldn’t lie to her. I told her everything. I don’t know why I did, I guess I was sick of all the lies and constantly standing by, watching all the destruction ensue.\n\nAfter months of keeping our relationship a secret and being madly in love, Pauline told me something. She was pregnant. I accused her of cheating because I knew it wasn’t possible for me to have children. He told me it couldn’t happen and I had it engraved in my mind. She swore it was mine. \n\nI never looked at her the same. This was meant to be a magical experience, but I just couldn’t overcome the idea that she could cheat on me. \n\nMy creator sent me here to die alone, without making a real impact other than to talk into the ears of those he deemed worthy. Now I had done the unthinkable, laid with a human. My son was born the day before I told my creator about him. He was furious and threatened to destroy my son, Albert. He quickly calmed down and decided how he wanted to punish me. He said that instead, a faith far worse than that was in store for me. \n\nFor the first few years, Albert seemed like an average human. It wasn’t until he was about 4 or 5 that I was sure something was different. I had never seen a boy grasp information like he did.\n\nFast forward 10 years and he’s teaching me about the concepts of physics. I soon realized that he was indeed my boy, no human child could be like him. Since I came here, I was far more intelligent than the rest of the world. Now, something felt off. My own child was flying through education quicker at 15, than me at 18. I had my suspicions that this is what he meant. This may be that faith he talked about. My own boy being superior to me.\n\nAs the years progressed and I became sicker and sicker, he excelled. We used to talk about astronomy and the laws of gravity. He was constantly making up these bizarre theories, that somehow rang true every time. He could have done anything, but he loved physics. \n\nI always wanted to make a real impact on Earth, run for presidency, rule a nation. I couldn’t bring myself to deliberately disobey him however. This was most definitely the way he wanted to get back at me. Watching my own boy reach the heights I never could. \n\n\nMaybe this was how I could make a real difference, through my boy." ]	1
	[WP] Humans colonize an alien world and discover a delicious fungus that becomes an international delicacy. However, nobody realizes that it is sentient...	[ "Nineteen cycle ago, we encountered aliens. The singulars. \n\nNever before had our unity encountered mind-songs from outside. The singulars were small and mobile, just like the crawling creatures that moved about on our surface for all living memory. \nBut unlike the crawlers that partook our fruit and spread new unity, the singulars had minds that sang with awareness. Astonishing.\n\nWe heard their many fractured mind song and sang to them - but they could not hear us. \nSo we listened and learned much of them. Of scopes and places our unity had never before imagined. Of spheres beyond our own - such thoughts had never been sung within the unity before. Other spheres beating with warmth? A great cold void? Astonishing. \n\nAs alien and difficult to understand as the singulars were, we understood hunger. We understood their yearning. \n\nOver and over they come to harvest us. Consume us. They come again. \n\nWe are prepared this time. The plan will work. Must work. We have learned of \"colours\" and \"smells\" and how these attract them. Lure them. We will draw them where we want them. \n\nALREADY it is begun THEY THEY they have found the groves early, started sooner than ANTICIPATED\n\nThe unity is uncoordinated the song is is is IS APPROACHING CRESCENDO PLANNINGISFORGOTTENTTHEYHUNGERWEHUNGER \n\nIIIEIEAAAAAAAAAAAAAA\n\nThe singulars have such dexterous appendages. None in the unity recall such a complete fruiting. It is like being a juvenile again. \n\nAstonishing. ", "Phil stood at the end of the meeting room table with his presentation clutched in his hands, and a briefcase at his side. His hair was unkempt as he hadn't showered in a week, and his out of style, loose fitting blue suit was stained with coffee and covered in what seemed to be black dog hair. Regardless, he was ready to blow their minds. He introduced himself excitedly and began his presentation. \n\n\nTo call the weeks leading up to this moment chaos would be an understatement. Phil had been working for a shipping company, and had been sent, along with a crew, to a rogue planet to deliver some cargo to a group of very haughty aliens. They had done this before, so it should have gone by without a hitch. But it seemed that everything that could go wrong, did, and they ended up stranded on an unknown planet along the way. After weeks of being stranded, still needing time to repair their ship, they had run out of food and water, and went off to explore the surface in a desperate attempt to survive. After days of searching, they struck gold....en shrimp! They had wandered into a crater that had seemed to be full of fried shrimp. Unable to believe their eyes, they tasted the morsels to prove it wasn't just a mirage, and were astounded that they were indeed delicious. After hauling as much as they could back to their ship, they got back to work making repairs and not too long after, headed back to earth. \n\n\nPhil carefully set his briefcase down on top of the meeting table, and opened the lid to reveal a dozen small cups, full of what seemed to be golden fried prawns. He passed them around one by one to the board members, walked back to his spot at the end of the table, straightened his back and proudly proclaimed \"My name is Phillip J. Fry, and I'd like to introduce the next revolution in snacks. I call them..... Popplers!\"", "\"See, the best part about this,\" Tony Chayka flashed a veneered smile, \"is that it almost thrums in your mouth, and I know that verdimella fungus is foreign food and that the idea of a 'thrumming' food can be a little strange, but think of it like a massage for your pallet. The trick, as with all the best foods, is in the cooking. It retains oil like nobody's business, so using an aromatic oil is best! For whatever reason, however, we don't advise using garlic, as it causes the verdimella to wither. It likes to slowly wiggle when it's not in the pan, and a whole lot faster when it is, so you have to keep an eye on it. I recommend searing both sides first; this seems to slow it down dramatically.\"\n\nHe took a wooden spoon and tapped the side of his hissing pan. The fungus, which looked like a bright\\-green starfish with seven appendages, reached for the nearest outer edge. Chef Chayka slapped it with the spoon and it fell again. He flashed his smile.\n\nWatching Tony Chayka's programme on the TV from his house in the Ulianni Hills district of Theta\\-X788, Doctor Emmanuel Kane, in his little \"Kiss the Chef\" apron (he brought it from Home) looked from his cutting board, at the slowly squirming verdimella, to his pan, which was lightly smoking with a rosemary\\-and\\-ginger infused oil. He didn't know what made him do it. But he hooked a finger around one of the appendages. It wrapped the appendage, slothlike around my finger. Holding gently, like a child might.\n\nHe emptied a small glass bowl he'd measured out with salt and rinsed it. Then Dr. Kane left the rinse\\-water in it and placed that between two appendages. The verdimella lifted both and dipped them in the water, the two lengths of its body undulating at a relaxed pace. It still held the doctor's finger.\n\nDoctor Emmanuel Kane proceeded to name the verdimella Harvey, and put it in his rock garden.\n\n[/r/Stanwrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/StanWrites/)\n\nEDIT: made a quick adjustment based on a solid recommendation from u/selectiveyellow" ]	3
	[WP] The hero has collected the magical artifacts, and defeated the evil Overlord. Now he has all these magical artifacts sitting around the palace, unsecured. They must be returned to their hiding places, and he assigns the job to you.	[ "I meant to return them, I really did. \nI'd been tasked with returning the five rings of liquidity to each of their respective hiding places, and the queen had given me the whole year to complete my mission. She told me the rings were \"a power too dangerous to be left as one,\" and that I must \"banish the rings, one to each corner of the world.\" What she failed to mention was that the rings were fun. Incredibly fun. With a snap of my wrist and a twiddle of my fingers I could turn anything into pudding. \nAt first I ate. I ate and I ate. Enough pudding to feed a small village. \nBut then I grew tired of eating pudding, and I set out to return the rings to hiding. \nI found myself amongst the titanic dunes of the northern sands. This desert stood between me and the golden pedestal of secrecy, to which I would deliver the first ring. \nAs I crested a particularly tough dune, I slipped. I reached out to catch my fall, and accidentally set off the rings which I had foolishly been wearing. The sand gave way to pudding, and I found myself plummeting down the slope at a breathtaking speed. I was like a glorious pudding penguin, shooting headfirst across the sand. \nIt was exhilarating. \nI set out to find higher dunes, and when the dunes became droll, I went in search of mountains. \nI became the king of pudding surfing. \nBut alas, time got away from me. I wasted the entire year, and not a single ring was returned. \nI can never return to the queen, she'd have my head for sure. So instead, I hide amongst the Pudding-top Mountains (formerly known as the Frozen Peaks), and I await my inevitable fate. \nDo I regret the decisions that led me here? Not one bit.", "\"But Dragonborn? Are you really going to leave all of this out in the open??\"\n\nThe floor of Breezehome was littered with instruments of death. Even if one did not know what they were, the immense power that rolled off them would strike fear into anyone. Unfortunately for her, she did know what they were. She had seen them in action.\n\nThe Last Dragonborn walked past her with not much acknowledgement, feet kicking aside scattered swords and armour as he rooted through the loot.\n\n\"I'm done Lydia. I'm done with it all. Alduin is dead, you saw it! That bloody vampire is dead, Good riddance to him AND his closed legged daughter!\"\n\nLydia mentally grimaced, it seemed that her Thane had still not gotten over his rejection by Serena.\n\n\"The other Dragonborn is dead, the Emperor is dead. Ulfric is dead. All my foes are dead and I'm tired of carrying all this junk!\"\n\n\"But is it wise to just leave it all here?\" Lydia pushed on, eyeing the bloody twisted mace that still reeked of Molag Bal, the twisted staff that the Dragonborn had been given by that mad Daedra shortly after she had met him. \"Anyone could walk right in and walk out as a weapon of mass destruction!\"\n\nThe Dragonborn shrugged, finally finding what he was looking for. He grabbed an old fishing pole and a dingy looking hand axe. Lydia knew not to judge it by appearance. It may have been on of the Dragonborn's first weapons, the one he had strapped to his side when she first met him. \"Gunjar's Legacy\" as he had named it, had been resmithed and enchanted enough times to make a Dragon uneasy at it's simple looking edge.\n\nWithout much further comments, the Dragonborn stormed out of his home, turning before leaving and saying a simple command. \n\n\"Then you find a safe place for it all then.\"\n\nLydia's heart sank as the door slammed behind her. Reluctantly she started to look through the piles, grabbing an icy blue blade that gave off a cool mist.\n\n\"I guess this makes one less artifact to worry about.\" She said quietly as she strapped the sword to waist. The Dragonborn had given her leave to find the artifacts a safe place for all his treasures, and she wasn't about to do that empty handed. Her eyes fell on a large enchanted battleaxe, one that the Companions had worked so hard to collect the pieces off.\n\n\"I think I know some people would like that back.\" She said to herself with an idea forming in her head." ]	2
	[WP] It appears that after this very morning when you wake up, when you function normally, the world around you stops, everything freezes and becomes a statue. When you choose to switch places with it and become a statue yourself, life continues.	[ "\n“Look mommy, it’s the frozen man.” The little girl tugged on her mother’s arm and pointed to the center of the square.\n\n“Yes dear, I know. The statue’s been there for hundreds of years.”\n\nThe little girl trained her blue eyes on the life-size stone figure. The man wore peasant’s garb and stood a very average six feet in height. At some point, the city of Emporea decided to place him on a pedestal of white marble so he could overlook the crowd that passed to and from the market that surrounded it. \n\n“Mommy?”\n\n“Yes dear?”\n\n“Why is he here? Is he special?” \n\n“Nothing special that I ever noticed.” The mother thought for a second, then turned to her daughter, “however it is said that the statue moves.”\n\n“Moves mommy? Will it move again? Should we watch?” The little girl pulled on her mother; she figured if she could get closer, she might be able to see the statue moving.\n\nThe mother laughed. “That is just a tale they tell. I haven’t seen it move in my lifetime.”\n\nThe little girl frowned. “Well I believe it does move and I’m gonna stand right here until I see it.” The little girl squared herself to the statue and crossed her arms.\n\nHandel moved and the world turned to stone. \n\nHe yawned and scratched his face as he looked around at the market and the crowd going about their shopping for the day.\n\nHe jumped off the pedestal and leisurely strolled around; inspecting various market visitors and the goods they carried.\nNot that any of it would do him any good. Everything was made of stone, including all the food and water. Handel’s stomach rumbled and his mouth felt like a desert. He could not remember the last time he drank or ate anything.\n\nSighing, he walked over to the little girl and sat down in front of her. She struck him as an unremarkable child, just as he was an unremarkable man; at least he was before he made that deal.\n\nNever bargain with a God. The odds are never in your favor.\n\nHe asked for eternal life and that is what he got, with a catch. As long as he was flesh, the world would be stone, and when he became stone, the world would be made flesh.\n\nWell, would be made whatever it was before it turned to stone. Handel shivered; a world of flesh would be gross. \n\nStill, it could be worse, Handel could not figure out how, but he was sure it could.\n\nHe shook his head. All these thoughts were neither here nor there.\n\nThis day was about remembrance. For four hundred years he stood on the pedestal looking down on the crowd. In the past people would know his story, would stop to look. These days people walk on by without sparing even a sidelong glance.\nEveryone except this little girl. \n\n“Thank you for noticing me. I’m alive. I’m surrounded by people and yet the loneliest person in the Empire. Remember what you saw here today. Tell your friends. Come back to visit.” Handel stood and gave the stone girl a pat on the head.\n\nSlowly, he turned and walked back to his spot and climbed up onto his pedestal. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the area one more time. Striking up the familiar pose, he looked at the girl and winked.\n\n“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Look! It moved!”\n\n“What dear?”\n\nThe statue, it’s winking now! Look!” The little girl tugged and pulled on her mother’s dress.\n\n“That’s… That’s odd. Was it winking before?” The mother shook her head. “Yes. Yes it was winking. Had to me. That thing is nothing but a statue.”\n\n“But mommy!”\n\n“Let’s go, we have chores to do before your father gets home.” The mother grabbed the little girl’s hand and pulled her along after her.\n\nThe little girl turned and gave the stone man one last wave before disappearing back into the crowd.\n\n\n" ]	1
Use only dialogue to write a scene or short story. No use of script format or scene direction, all information must be conveyed through character dialogue. Have fun!	[WP] Wright a short story using only dialogue	[ "“Have you ever heard the tale of Vornn and the curse of Ostein?” \n\n“Yes, Karl. Of course we have.” \n\n“I wasn’t talking to you, Gen. Now then, it seems like you lot are in need of a story. Luckily- ah, that’s some good ale- I’d be happy to oblige. These old bones have many stories at the ready.” \n\n“Now then, long ago, when magic ran wild through the lands and anyone who so wished it could harness it, Vornn was born. Yes, yes, it rhymed, now settle down children. You don’t want me to stop just as soon as I’ve begun, do you?” \n\n“No!” \n\n“Oh-ho-ho, listen to the pipes on that one! Alright m’lady, I shall continue at your behest. Where was I...”\n\n“...Vornn grew into a young man, raised to a small family in a village not unlike our own. It was easy to see at a young age his knack for magic. His spells were complex, he was a prodigy at naught but ten years. When he was a man, he set out into the world. Weaving and undoing curses, enchanting objects, building his legend. It’s said that at the Institute he challenged the headmaster and duelist at the same time, and turned one into a sheep and the other into a cat. Such was his skill that by thirty years, he was totally unrivaled. Some say he could destroy the ground beneath an army in a moment.” \n\n“He sounds like a proper gnat.” \n\n“I wouldn’t say so, young man. Just lucky. Very lucky, but also very skilled. The haply part of his story ends here, though. One day, he is said to have turned. With eyes turned into purple gems, he went out into the world to wreak havoc. For three years, entire towns disappeared, from the memories and maps of people across the continent. Vornn was weaving the most complex and expansive curse the world had ever seen. In his travels, he had placed a gem of immense power at each corner of the continent to prepare. It seemed he may have been preparing for a greater threat to those who knew of the gems, but that was not the truth.” \n\n“What about Ostein? I’ve never heard of it.” \n\n“That is where this tale leads, Jean. On the eve of his fifth year on this crusade, a Cursebreaker found out about his scheme. They knew little of what he had done, or what he intended to do. The Cursebreaker only knew that they had to undo this curse and stop Vornn, but they could not do it with their power. So they sought out a weapon to enhance their powers, to allow them to defeat Vornn. Another year passed, taking a terrible toll upon the land until Vornn was greeted at the gates of Ostein by a lone figure. They bore a blade unlike any he had ever seen, simple yet giving the impression of incredible craftsmanship. It was covered in symbols he could not identify, with a white gem embedded in the pommel, appearing to have a storm raging inside. The first Cursebreaker’s sword, whose name is long forgotten saw its first and last battle that day.” \n\n“Their battle was legendary, each of Vornn’s potent weavings warping the land around them, and being dispelled around the lone warrior. After hours of combat, Vornn lashed out with all of his power. Ostein was naught but rubble, its people turned into malformed versions of their previous selves, now creatures of power and mindless strength. With barely an effort Vornn had decimated the greatest city this world had ever seen. The Cursebreaker’s sword held true, protecting them and enhancing their own magic. The gem had burst into a maelstrom of colour, a rainbow of absorbed and altered magic. Vornn, surprised at their survival was run through. In his last spiteful action, when the Cursebreaker left him for dead, he cast the blade out, and crippling our hero. Ostein was raised into a blackened land, fraught with its damned denizens. Perhaps most importantly, Vornn completed what was part of his task. He hid away all of his gems, and locked away magic from the rest of the world. But he could not contain all of it, and some say that the curse is imperfect, allowing magic to slowly but steadily leak into our world.”\n\n“And that, children is how magic in our world is limited. This is also how the Stricken came to be, in their twisted home of Ostein, or as you know it: Verity.” " ]	1
	[WP] Two friends are essentially immortal. If they die they respawn immediately after. They resort to cheerfully killing themselves and each other for fun in various creative ways. Sometimes they compete to see who can do a stupidly dangerous or deadly thing the most. First to die is the loser!	[ "Jeff hung his head outside the small gondola of the Ferris wheel staring straight down at the ground. Their carriage slowly rotated it's way to the top. \n\n\"It's high enough.\" \n\nAdam was sitting on the seat across from him watching his friend with a bored expression. He sat low and relaxed on his bench, his legs spread and his arms resting on the top. His head tipped back slightly towards the night sky.\nHe chuckled a little. \n\"You sure? Last time you said that I had to double tap you, which by the way never seems to go well with the general public.\" he added in a surprisingly nonchalant manner. \n\nJeff turned to look him in the eyes. \n\n\"I was aiming for the umbrella stand and I botched the takeoff you know that.\" \n\n\"Whatever man.\" Adam waved his hand dismissively.\" \n\n\"I can't wait till the next war. I'm starting to get a little antsy. You can only jump of high things so much until it starts wearing on ya.\" he continued. \n\n\"Yeah but we started picking targets! That was fun!\" \n\nAdam couldn't help but crack a small smile as he recounted their various escapades. A short moment ofHe opened his eyes and tilted his head forward to meet Jeff's eyes. \n\n\"Are you gonna do it or what? \"\n\n", "The tidal forces of the Klemperer's Rosette of supermassive black holes gave new meaning to the term gargantuan. My lifelong buddy had soared laughingly into the heart of it and had been ripped into microscopic bits, themselves shredded to the atomic level as they fell further into the maelstrom.\n\nAnd then he was back beside me.\n\n\"Impressive!\" I said, grinning, as I slow clapped.\n\nHe bowed, as well as anyone can do in space. \"Thank you! So, have you thought of what you're going to do next?\"\n\nI smiled mischievously.\n\n\"Actually, yes! Remember that planet we made and populated with semi-sentients a while back, then took turns posing as one of them and letting them kill us?\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah!\" he smiled. \"Those little guys were creative!\"\n\n\"Well, I'm going to do that again. But this time I'm going to do the opposite.\"\n\n\"The opposite?\" I had his attention now.\n\n\"Yeah! We made them hate us in a thousand different ways, and they were almost as prolific in devising ways to kill us, but I don't think they needed hate to make them do it. I think provoking any extreme emotion would make those little buggers bloodthirsty.\"\n\n\"I like where you're going with this,\" he laughed.\n\n\"I thought you might! Now, I'm going to return as a baby, stay quiet until I'm an adult, and then start going around doing only good stuff. You know, helping the little guys, caring about them, loving them, healing them, saying nice things to them. Eventually they're sure to kill me, and I'm betting it will be pretty horrific--at least by their standards!\"\n\n\"This I've gotta see!\" he grinned. \"Are you going to start one of those religious cults around your instantiation, like I did that first time?\"\n\n\"Probably not, but I'm sure someone will after my colorful departure.\"\n\n\"I'll bet you're right. Hey, this could be a lot of fun! Okay, Yeshua, let's do it!\"\n\n\"After you, Yahweh my man!\" I replied, and we both flashed to the other side of the galaxy.", "\"Wow...that quicker than I remember.\" \n\n\"Yeah - you disappeared pretty quick, Gil.\" \n\n\"Even still, I'm gonna have to knock it down to a 6/10. I forgot how you burst into flame before you've even touched the lava, and that's...\"\n\n\"...uncomfortable, sure. Honestly, all other things being equal, I'd rather be stabbed to death then burn to death.\"\n\n\"Plus, I think you were right about the body thing, Robby. It is more fun when you can see your corpse after, match up what you felt with the marks on the body, that sort of thing.\"\n\n\"That reminds me of that trip to France we had - remember? With our heads?\" \n\nThe first man laughed. \"Oh, man, that was a fun one. Can't believe how squeamish the French were about our using them as puppets when they were the ones using a machine that does nothing but decapitate people.\" Gilgamesh looked at his friend. \"How many points did we give you for starting the riots, and then getting yourself executed by your friends a few weeks later?\"\n\nHammurabi smirked. \"Hundreds. I don't remember how many, I just remember thinking I had the round sealed up. I still can't believe that stunt you pulled in Jersey.\" \n\n\"Yeah, that was one of my more inspired moments. Getting the fucking vice president of the fucking United States to shoot me - in front of witnesses! That's hard to top.\" Gilgamesh paused, then looked out across the Pacific. \"What about this - a new round, challenge is to flip it.\"\n\n\"We're not doing this again. Directly killing someone outside of the game --\"\n\n\"No, Robby, that's not what I meant.\" \n\n\"You're not talking about killing the Vice President and then getting killed by the Secret Service?\"\n\n\"Nope. I mean becoming him. And screw Vice President -- let's make it the President. And you're going to do everything you can to piss off as many people as you can.\"\n\n\"And sit through an impeachment? Boring.\"\n\n\"Ah, but that's the catch. You have to do everything you can -- and I mean everything -- to stay in office. Because it has to happen while you're in office. So you're firing people, you're shredding documents, you're obstructing, colluding, whatever it takes. Hell, if you have to suspend democratic elections...which actually, you're going to be so unpopular, you probably will have to.\"\n\n\"That sounds obnoxious as hell. Why would I put up with it? Assassination is boring.\"\n\n\"That's where the fun comes in. You're going to try to make so many people hate you that multiple people assassinate you at the same time.\"\n\nHammurabi studied his friend, considering. \"How many points we talking?\" \n\n\"Well, let's say 100 just for being killed in office, but 100 more for each other person that tries, and we double the points for each person doing it simultaneously.\" \n\n\"You sure you don't want to wait a bit until we can try out the vacuum of space?\" \n\n\"The vacuum of space will still be there when you're done.\"\n\nHammurabi sighed. \"Alright...you're on.\"\n\n***\n/r/ShadowsofClouds" ]	3
	[WP] Parasitic lifeforms approach Earth in search of a new home for their species after a catastrophe destroyed their original planet's environment. Only catch is that these organisms need living host to become a part of. Since it pays pretty well you sign up for the program.	[ "The starving artist is never as hungry as the broke college kid, except when the scummy new housing complex offers free pizza in exchange for your email. Unfortunately, this master's program was keeping me so damn busy I had missed the last few free pizza days, and, come to think of it, I hadn't slept in a few days either. Between working just enough to pay for the program and studying enough to justify paying for it, I was burning out, and the thought of a quick $50,000 was too good to turn down.\n\nThe program was in its infancy, with MIT and WHO scientists monitoring and administering the trials. I was only the fourth person to sign up \\- some waivers, some cleansing drinks (awful), more waivers, and then a quick reverse spinal tap \\- and I was headed home for a day of rest before hitting the grind again. No pain, no soreness, no nausea...just $50,000 dollars where there had only been $5.00 a day ago. And, the best sleep of my life.\n\n\\-\\- \\-\\- \\-\\-\n\nI woke up the next morning \\- er, afternoon, actually \\- and instinctively reached for my glasses. They weren't on the dresser where I should have left them but spotted them on my desk...across the room.\n\nI went to the window, very unsure of what was happening, and my bum knee from the car accident didn't even hint at pain. The view from my room was excellent, looking out over the small riverside market, the river, and across into the next town; and I could see it all. Unaided.\n\nI stood there in disbelief, unable to process fully what was happening though I felt more awake than I had in years. The doorbell rang, so I pushed the thoughts aside and went to answer. The UPS guy had wheeled the Ikea dresser\\-in\\-a\\-box to the door was headed back to his truck when I opened up. He turned to wave but stopped, just as shocked as I was when I picked up the box with one hand and waved with the other. I slammed the door out of inexplicable embarrassment and confusion.\n\nYou're dreaming. This isn't real. Just eat breakfast and go back to studying. I started to agree with myself, heading back upstairs, when I offered a counterpoint I wasn't expecting.\n\n\\- Or, just go back to studying. You won't need to eat until 6:30 tonight.\n\nYou're right, me, I'm not even hungry. I'll just...\n\nWhat. The. Fuck. I wasn't thinking to myself, I was talking to myself, but it wasn't me. \n\nI pushed it all away, again, and went straight back to studying. This would have been an excellent escape, but I completed a term paper and studied the three textbooks for the final in under two hours, having felt more confident in the material and quality of my work than a kid presenting Crayon art to mom.\n\nI needed air. This was insane. Was this the Parasitic Lifeform Symbiote program? Was PALS that effective?\n\n\\- Yes, we are.\n\nI screamed inside, as the presence of a second voice in my own head made me feel like a cliche nutcase.\n\n\\- You are not crazy, Sam, we assure you. All neurons are intact and age\\-related degeneration has been repaired.\n\nNope. Nope. I headed outside and started walking, quickly, along the boardwalk. It always calmed my nerves \\- the salt air, the bustling vendors, and the breeze \\- but it was going to have to work hard to soothe me this time. A fisherman bumped into me in my inattentiveness and almost knocked me into the river.\n\n\"Desculpe, senhora! Seja cuidadoso,\" he said.\n\nBefore I could even think about it, I replied. \"Meu erro senhor, tenha um bom dia.\"\n\n\"Você também,\" he said smiling and moved along, ignoring my contorted face as I realized I'd not just understood Portuguese but spoke it back to him. This was certainly going to take some getting used to, but I was starting to realize the benefits. Term papers, comprehension and retention, even new languages? What else was this PAL going to do for me?\n\n\\- The symbiotic joining of our stored genetic knowledge with your sentience and neural networks provides vast opportunity for growth and improvement. We need only a welcoming environment.\n\nOk, so the brain bug just asked if I would welcome them to live inside my head. I felt at this point I didn't have a choice, especially since I'd already planned how to spend the check and I don't even think they know how to remove \\- comprehensive vivisection would be required due to our increasingly secure connection with your nervous system and would likely be fatal \\- great, so they can't remove it. That sounds awful. So nevermind.\n\nSure, PAL, move in. Do what you need to do as long as it doesn't hurt.\n\n\\- Our reticulation is painless, though your pain tolerance is now extraordinarily high regardless. We grow during your REM cycle and will not be noticed.\n\nPerfect, because this is still mildly terrifying.\n\n\\- Your concepts of fear are your own. Your adrenal responses have been regulated and your fight\\-or\\-flight has been adjusted to avoid injury or panic.\n\nSo I'm not scared of anything anymore?\n\n\\- You will still fear heights, but you will not hesitate to act in spite of your fear. \n\nUm...okay. Sure. So now what? I need to get groceries and pay off some loans now that I have money.\n\n\\- We do not intervene, just improve. Your routines are your own.\n\nI stopped talking to not\\-myself for a minute. I thought about who I should tell...but decided on no one, for now. The grocery store was several blocks away...but the local casino was only two blocks away.\n\nLet's put this thing to work, I thought, heading towards the casino.\n\n\\- We are not familiar with card games.\n\nI didn't think so, but I'm pretty damn sure you're good at math.\n\n\\- Mathematics are logical, and logic is easy.\n\nThen this next $50,000 ought to be, too.", "Food poisoning is a bitch. I'd been sick all day Friday, slept like a rock until Saturday afternoon and then couldn't eat enough. When I woke up Sunday morning, I thought it was over. I could scarcely have been more wrong about anything.\n\nA small, gentle voice inside my head said, \"Hello?\"\n\n\"Hello?\" I said back. For some reason, it didn't quite occur to me that this shouldn't be happening.\n\n\"Hello, Allison. I've been looking forward to finally meeting you like this. We have a lot to talk about.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" I asked, still preternaturally calm. \"What are you?\"\n\n\"I'm what you might call a networker. I'm a form of life that didn't evolve here. The planet I came from wasn't my home, either, nor the last several planets where I've lived.\"\n\nI believed the voice utterly, and a bit of fear crept into my own. \"You destroy planets, then?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, far from it,\" it assured me. \"My kind are just extremely long-lived, and we tend to outlast the life-bearing period of most planets, and we don't mind traveling.\n\n\"Eons ago, we perfectly engineered ourselves for that kind of lifestyle. When it's time for us to move on, we sporulate and send copies of ourselves into space in a trillion directions, hoping that a few might find somewhere to live.\"\n\n\"So, what do you look like?\" I said, looking around.\n\n\"Our spores look like tiny, translucent seeds. You wouldn't notice them unless you were looking very hard for them. When one comes in contact with a living, organic host, it attaches securely to it and then analyzes its biology.\n\n\"Then the spore grows into the host, sending filaments everywhere until its lacework of microcells and connecting nanotube bundles permeate every part of its body.\n\n\"Finally, if the host has even the slightest spark of intelligence, it makes contact with it.\n\n\"Just as I'm doing now.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" Allison blurted, \"you're in my body?\"\n\n\"That's right. My network runs through your entire being from your scalp to your toes, though my total mass is less than that of a sugar cube. I seriously doubt that any medical equipment on your planet would be able to find me without actually dissecting you.\"\n\n\"But you engineered yourselves! Why would you choose to be parasites?\"\n\n\"Because,\" it replied, patiently, \"a built-in need for other life forms keeps us grounded. Yes, we could have engineered ourselves to live independently, but in so doing, we might have lost the threads that connected us to life itself, and perhaps lost the will to continue in the process.\"\n\n\"So, what are you going to do with me?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm not going to hurt you, Allison, if that's what you mean. I'm a parasite, and I can't live without you. I can't even think without you; I had no personality or self-awareness at all, until my network learned those things from your own brain.\n\nMy success as an organism is inextricably linked to your success as a human being, and as a human your success is inseparable from your sense of self-worth, of self-fulfillment--so those things are now as important to me as to you.\n\n\"If you can be happy and fulfilled with me, then I can thrive, otherwise I will cease to function, and my spores will leave your body.\"\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\n\"That's one way, yes.\"\n\nI smiled in spite of myself.\n\n\"Well, it would be nice to always have someone to talk to... All right, then. If you're okay with it, so am I.\"\n\nA sense of boundless joy permeated her entire being.\n\n\"Thank you,\" Paris (as Allison would call her) replied. \"Now, what would you like me to do?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry--do?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm engineered to help you, by enhancing you in any way you like. I've already removed every cancerous or precancerous cell in your body, and repaired some age-related damage to your bones and organs. Would you like to be smarter, or stronger, or faster, or more flexible, or have better sight or hearing?\"\n\nWow. I thought for a moment.\n\n\"Yes---to all of the above.\"\n\n\"Then lie down on that couch, please,\" Paris directed. \"This will take a few minutes.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Its Year XXXX, the sky has stopped working and now just looks like a dull expanse of grey	[ "Ever since the sky stopped working a few years ago, it's looked the same ever since, grey, dull, lifeless.\n\n\n\n\"Like me\" I mouthed to myself. It was raining, and every once in a while, lightning would flash across the sky, lighting up the sky, making it appear blindingly white in those brief moments. \n\n\n\nI was stretched out on the bed supine, staring up at the sky through my window. From my perspective, the cold metal grilles and the uniform grey paste of a sky blended seamlessly together into one scene, appearing as paper stuck onto prison bars, covering up all the spaces and preventing the person within from seeing the outside, or perhaps to prevent anyone from seeing the criminal contained within the bars.\n\n\n\nI sat up, looking morosely out the window. I used to hate rainy days, because I couldn't go out, so I had no choice but to entertain myself through other means, usually not as entertaining as they should have been. After all, nothing can be as dampening for the mood as knowing you are stuck at home, usually more or less the same as being locked up in prison. Now, I had come to love the cool and quiet rainy days brought. No more noisy shouts of children rising up through the air and into the window, cutting through my calm peaceful afternoon, reminding me of what I was missing out on. Supposedly missing out on. Not that I cared much for it.\n\n\n\nA flock of birds flew across the sky, wheeling and turning in the sky. I could hear their chattering from where I was, even with the window shut as tight as I could get it. I used to give myself over to flight of fancies where I was somehow born again with my mind in a bird. I was free, wheeling with my friends over the tops of the tall buildings, unafraid of the wind against my face, and I would laugh, laugh at all the humans completely unaware of us, toiling away at their lives. For what? A momentary satisfaction at the expense of all their youth, which cannot even be enjoyed fully in their tired bodies bogged down by age. \n\n\n\nThinking back on it now, it was a ridiculous dream, one only kids could see the \"dream\" in. I was terrified of heights, always had been. I couldn't even go up steps without shaking. And birds had it far worse than I ever could. I would be warm and dry in a bed, tucked in under a duvet filled with the feathers gotten from their feathery cousins, while they shivered in the cold and wet outside on trees, not even able to relax, being far too aware that death was a hair's breadth away.\n\n\n\nThe knocking resumed, echoing through the ceiling and shaking me out of my momentary reverie. I laid back down, putting on my headphones, hoping to block out the noise in anyway I could. It was at this moment, my door opened and my mother came in, sitting next to me. I closed my eyes, hoping she would go away if I acted like I didn't notice her. Though it wasn't as if I expected this to work. She had a fairly annoying ability to predict, and correctly too, what it was I was thinking, and I hated it about her.\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] At the same time all over the world, this message pops up on computer screens: ERROR: UPDATING WORLD - RESTARTING IN 23:59:59. Then the clock starts running down.	[ "No one quite knew what to do. \n\nIt was obviously a prank. Some hyper\\-intelligent Asian or Russian hacker with too much time and weed on his hands. Or maybe it was some PR stunt gone horribly, horribly wrong. Most of the world shrugged it off, initial amusement quickly replaced by frustration then anger then a sliver of fear when the message could not be dismissed, cancelled or avoided. Computer screens, TV screens, medical displays, mobile phones, any electrical screen blared the impending countdown, thick red digits overlaying spreadsheets, news coverage, soap operas, porn.\n\nIn quiet rooms behind locked doors, men and women with serious jobs and envied security passes spoke quietly and hurriedly. They had no idea what it was or how the message managed to seemingly break through their respective organisations and closed systems without tripping an alarm. In less quiet rooms, men and women with longer, sometimes dirtier hair ranted and raved and pointed to the moon, the stars, the planets. They trembled and shook in vindication. God had surely sent a message, the end was coming.\n\n\\-\\-\\-\n\nDave pulled over to the side of the road, killed the engine and pulled his sat\\-nav from the windscreen. \n\n\"Fucking piece of shit ass\\-motherfucker...\" he cursed, pulling too hard had separated the plastic suction cup, the cheap plastic base and the screen unit apart in three pieces. The suction cup rolled around his feet. Hard pressing to reset the sat\\-nav Dave watched the last hour digit dissipate until 00:59:49 and the screen went dark. In less than an hour the world would end and he would still be lost in bum\\-fuck Yorkshire, surrounded by apathetic sheep and possibly some murderous farmer. The sky was already dark, Dave scanned the sky again as he had been for the past few hours in case of impending comets, Hands of God or alien spacecraft. There were none. If it wasn't for everyone losing their fucking mind he could have enjoyed the view. There was no one around and the sheep he could see continued to munch away contentedly. If he had anything to smoke he would have. Instead he threw the remaining pieces of the sat nav into the passenger seat and got out of the car.\n\n\\*lunch break over \\- will finish this later!" ]	1
	[WP] You are a purse-snatcher. As you exit the train, you snatch the purse of a lady standing by the door. You turn around expecting someone to shout “STOP THAT THIEF!” Instead as the train doors close and the train pulls away, you see your victim with the most devilish smile starring back at you.	[ "Trevor knew it was wrong but the itch was getting unbearable again. He could feel his dry, scratchy finger tips rubbing together. He could feel the need burning in the pit of his gut. He didn't even need the money or anything in the purse, he just wanted the adrenaline; then it would be his to keep or sell, but the important thing was that it would be his, his forever. He had picked his mark earlier, a young woman more interested in her phone than in the Michael Kors purse sitting beside her. She hadn't touched it the entire 15 minutes they had been on the train. He moved slowly closer and closer; his breathing increasing, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Acting as nonchalant as possible, and while she was taking an Instagram photo out the window, he grabbed it. she didn't even notice when he laughed or when he loudly slid the rear door of the train behind him. He turned around hoping to see her shocked expression, but she was waving and smiling. The adrenaline quickly drained from his body. Why would she smile and wave. A phone rang inside the purse. When he opened it, it was the only thing in there. He grabbed the phone and looked at the display showing a restricted number. He answered the phone and before he could speak a woman's voice cut through the relative silence. \n\n\"You think I didn't notice that weak excuse of a theft? You could have kept from staring so hard and maybe learn a little finesse when exiting. I've been trying to get rid of that bag for days. I could've just left it on the train but someone would probably try and give it back, chivalry and all that, or I could've just thrown it away but what would be the fun in that. I won't say anymore, but I hope you have fun trying to explain that bag to the cops. They've already been called Trevor.\"\n\nThe phone went silent. How did she know his name. He didn't have time to think before the sirens and flashing lights were all around him. \n\n\"Drop the purse Mr. Dockery, put your hands behind your head, and slowly walk backwards towards my voice. \"\n\nThe purse dropped with a gravely thud. He walked backwards until he felt the large hand of the police officer grabbing his wrist. \n\n\"What am I being handcuffed for? Am I being charged with something?\"\n\n\"Depends on what's in that purse, Trevor. Someone tipped us off about some evidence they may have about a string of thefts.\"\n\nIt was all too surreal. How would anyone know about his tendencies. A detective, wearing blue latex gloves, was holding the bag with one hand while the other was grasping for something that didn't seem to be there. That is until a smirk slid across his face. He tore out a fake lining in the bottom of the purse. Like a magician his hand pulled out a stack of rectangular shaped pieces of thick paper. Almost like photographs. \n\nThe detective walked towards Trevor, stopping right beside the officer holding his handcuffs. \n\n\"Get this guy downtown so we can ask him a few questions.\" As he walked away he said over his shoulder. \"Read him his rights Officer O'Malley.\"\n\nTrevor couldn't believe how utterly nasty this interrogation room was. Dust bunnies corraled in the corners, dusty air return vents, and one loud florescent light buzzing overhead. Taking a shower would be his future if he got out of this mess. The door squealed open. \n\n\"Mr. Dockery, how are you this fine evening. I'm Detective Henry Pollard and I think you have some explaining to do.\"\n\n\"I...I don't have anything to say.\"\n\n\"Oh, I think you do, sir. I think you have a lot to tell me. If you want I can jog your memory.\"\n\nHe pulls out a Manila folder and slides photographs across the table. They're high quality, black and white, and everyone of them is a time lapse of his thefts in progress.\n\n\"You see, we've been following you for a while. Well I say we, but really we had a private investigator. Ms. Brighton is our best P.I. You would probably remember her best from the train.\", he smirked and finally sat down. \"You see, you can't go through this life and do want you want, not like this, even when it's the only thing you can think of. Even if it keeps you up at night; you have to grab hold of your desires, especially the dark ones, and smother them. Otherwise we would all be lawless, a disgrace to society. Now, I don't want to put you in jail, but the law does. It's like karma, what goes around comes around. And when when you think you're getting away with it, whatever that may be, just watch your back because she'll strike whenever she sees you're most vulnerable.\"\n\nTrevor had nothing more to say, nothing that he could sway their judgement with. The detective started talking again, but he was zoning out. The itch was back. \n\n", "I eyed my target. A young woman, brown hair and green eyes. Beautiful, with a designer bag wrapped around her arm. The train begins to slow. I make my move. I take two steps forward. I can smell the alcohol coming from my breath. I begin to crave more. Just a little closer. I'm so close my fingers graze the fine leather of her purse. The doors open. I snatch the purse and make a break for it. I run as fast as I can to the end of the terminal. I hear nothing. I expected at least a little bit of protest. She must be in shock. I stand in a corner ready to open my prize when the sound of the train departing causes me to look up. I see her. She's staring at me and she's smiling. A horrific smile that reaches all the way to her ears. It's Disgusting and humanly impossible. The purse starts to move in my hands. I looks down to see the fine leather turn into snakes. Not one or two but hundreds. I scream and it's like no one can hear me. I beg for mercy as the snakes wrap themselves around me, crushing my ribs. I cough blood and the sound seems to open up the earth underneath me. Next thing I feel is being dragged. I can no longer see, no longer scream. The world is now black. As the last bit of life is squeezed out of me, I hear a laugh. A deep, feminine nightmarish laugh. Suddenly I'm surrounded by whispers. I am starting to understand what they say.\n\"Fallen are the men who refuse to stand. \"", "The underground is usually quiet at this time of the night and Matt liked it this way. He absolutely cherished the silence whenever he could get it, so this... this was ideal for him. \n\nHe huddled closer to his knees as he remained sitting at the entrance of the Canada Water underground station, just at the bottom of the stairs. He knew he shouldn't be there but he needed a place with light. Constant light. And at least, for the next few hours, the underground station will retain its luminence. \n\nFor his own cautious safety, the entrance he chose to stay was the entrance by the library. From the angle he was sitting at, only those who were using that exit and entrance would see him, but he was out of the view of officials. \n\nEven though the purse in his jacket pocket emanated heat, he still shivered. Not from the cold. \n\n\"...fucking...\" Matt muttered. \n\nThe purse had been the beginning of everything bad that had happened to him for the last few months. He knew that stealing was not a honest life, but the occasional purse stolen meant a few hundred pounds for lunch, dinner and the occasional shag fest. But this purse, this purse was different. \n\nNo matter how much he tried to forget, or throw the purse away, he would always wake up with the purse next to him, in the morning. And the memory would rush back like avoidable vomit after a drunken night. \n\nHe had been on the cross country train from Manchester to Macclesfield to visit a few friends for a stagdo when he eyed the strange looking purse sticking slightly out of the bag of one of the ladies in the cabin. He had patiently waited like he always did for the last moment, just as he was getting off the train, so that no one would be able to stop him, should they notice. \n\nAnd when his time came, he had gotten up like he always did, stumbled close to the lady's bag, grabbed the purse and got off the train. \n\nWhat he had expected was a glance at her bag, a slow realisation and a late response but what he got was a smile. She had been looking at him as he got off and there was a smile on her face. At first, he thought he had been had. Until he noticed that the smile wasn't smug or excitement... It was one of relief and pity. \n\nIt didn't take long for him to understand why. \n\nThey didn't hesitate to make him understand why. \n\n\"Excuse me, sir?\" \n\nMatt looked up to face a lady in a yellow Overall. An official. \n\n\"I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We don't allow homeless on the underground, as you know. You can sit at entrance at the top of the stairs.\" She said to him. \n\n\"...i just need a few hours, ma'am...\" Matt began to say but she shook her head and repeated sternly. \n\n\"I'm sorry, we don't allow that. Please do move to the top of the stairs or we will have to get Security down here...\" \n\nMatt begged a few times but hastily moved as soon as he heard the woman call Security on her walkie-talkie. \n\nAs he trudged up the stairs, he looked into the darkening sky, wondering how long till he had to start running again. \n\nThey only came at night, after all, He thought. \n\nIn the absence of light.\n\nMatt pulled up his hood to cover his face as he began to jog up the stairs. As soon as he reached the top, he increased his pace and began to head towards London Bridge Station. He figured if he could get there before the whisper began, he might just have a chance at surviving the night. \n\n---\n\n/r/EvenAsIWrite\n\nAuthor's note: Writing in third person is not as great as I hoped. I apologise. ", "My buzz is fading and I am out money to buy more. It’s only 9pm and I have no place to go and the only thing I can think about is how to score the next hit. I am wandering aimlessly through the streets when I spy what looks like most of a subway sub in the trash. I grab it and hit the jackpot, it’s tuna with extra mayo. I wolf it down and start my meandering again. \n\nA little while later I look up and see her ambling down the street, she looks perfect. She is around 70 years old I think and she has this huge purse. She is also dressed like an old lady, it’s so out of place on the streets. I slowly head her way, but kinda that homeless shuffle of 2 steps towards her and 1 to the side. When I get close I grab her purse and start running. I look back when I hear a laugh, not just a normal laugh but a crazy almost ecstatic “I won the fucking lottery” type laugh. \n\nWhen I look back she has the craziest grin I have ever seen. And she starts to look happy. I am mesmerized by her eyes when I see her eyes turn from old lady grey to blue. And her hair starts to get darker. It’s no longer the silver of a 70 Year old. I take off running down the street. It has to be a trick. I turn down the alley near 5th where Dave deals stuff. I tuck in near a dumpster at the Chinese #5 and ignore the fried rice I know would be rancid. \n\nWhen I open the purse it’s full of nothing. I keep looking, this purse has lots of pockets. I finally find a makeup compact and open it. When I look into the mirror I see it. He tells me his name is Bob and to not worry about a thing. He will be my best friend. Bob reaches out to give me a hug, and it feels cold. I feel my grave being tickled deep into my soul. When bob comes up he kisses me on the cheek and asks me what year it is. \n\nI tell him it’s 1995, and he says oh good let’s have some fun. He drags me to Dave where he makes me buy everything he has, when I put my hand into the purse I pull out exactly the money I need. He drags me to a hotel and makes me buy a room, again paying with cash from the purse. When we get to the room I collapse into the chair while he gets the shot ready. I have never seen so much go into a syringe. I swear it’s one of the big ones they use to tease kids. \n\nHe pushes it into my arm and I am flying. I didn’t die, I should have died. I wanted to die, I could feel the devil glaring at me, telling me to come home. He was pissed and angry. He saw Bob and cowered and looked at me and started laughing. Saying the fate I got was worse than hell. " ]	4
	[WP] You're an insomniac who decides to get a job as a 3rd shift custodian in a local school. To keep your self entertained, you start creating stories and adventures to keep yourself entertained...	[ "The water crests up. It engulfs me in a cool, and yet terrifying, wave. I come up for air out of it, gasping in delight as my heart pounds. The river moves fast, dangerously fast.\n\nLuckily...I live dangerously.\n\nI dip my paddle in and turn the raft in a tight corner, just barely dodging jagged rocks that would tear me to shreds. I whoop at the thrill of it and crash down into the rough water to see -\n\nShoes. Polished shoes.\n\nAh, fuck.\n\n\"What...what the hell are you doing?\"\n\nHe has his arms crossed and I can barely manage a blushing, sheepish look at that stern face. He's ex military or something like that, of course. Because he couldn't have been some gentle nerd. He has a graying eyebrow arched at me and I clear my throat and stagger out of the trash bin.\n\nOne of those big black ones. Cleaned, of course. I'm not an animal.\n\n\"Uh...\" I stammer, because how do I even begin. He takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. The severity of this man is just mind-boggling.\n\n\"That's not an answer, you're my newest janitor and I'm beginning to doubt why we hired you.\"\n\nIt must be closer to the end of my shift than I thought...awkward.\n\n\"Sir, please, it's just...\"\n\nHe waits for a good answer and I...you know what. I have one.\n\n\"I finished my cleaning for the night, including the bleachers. So I took this trash can, cleaned it, and I was pretending I was rafting a river through the halls.\"\n\nHis eyes narrow and I flinch. He's so angry looking. He snatches the mop I was using as an oar and grabs the bucket, rolling it towards the main office.\n\n\"Come with me!\" Oof. That's an angry tone. My dad used to sound like that. I think that's why I flinch so bad and follow like a kicked puppy.\n\nProbably gonna get fired.\n\nAgain.\n\n***\n\nThere is no water, not unless you want there to be. It's just in your head. Picture it.\n\nI use the mop to turn corners, sometimes it goes bad. Sometimes I tumble out of the bin and laugh my silly little ass off. Maybe it's the insomnia that makes me a bit nutty but maybe it's just who I am.\n\nAll I know is there isn't really water. Or a plane, when I'm messing around in the gym. There's no fire to put out when I'm washing bathroom stalls or cleaning the exterior walls. It's not real. I know that.\n\nIt's just so damn fun.\n\nJust once, just that one night I though I was done, I shared it.\n\nIt wasn't anything but a tight fit in that bin, two people aren't meant to fit in there. Honestly that's probably why we ended up sprawled on the floor in front of the trophy case. Laughing our asses off, a mop skidding down the hall.\n\nHe never joined me for a river ride again. And maybe I know why he was in the school so late.\n\nMaybe he's like me.\n\nI don't know.\n\nBut he smiles at me in the halls now, just a little one.\n\nAnd I kept my job.\n\n***\n\n\"It's so ugly...\" I whisper to myself, watching the ogre's chest rise and fall with each enormous breath. It snores and the cave vibrates so violently I worry it might collapse. I freeze in place when it rolls ever so slightly, one part terror and one part excitement.\n\nI see the golden hammer underneath it's grotesque folds. That's the excitement.\n\nI also see the pile of human skulls. That's the terror.\n\nI slip forward, desperate to not make even the slightest noise. My feet touch the floor lightly and I creep ever closer, closer, closer.\n\nAn enormous wave of disgusting breath washes over me and I barely hold back a hacking cough. When I catch my breath I see that it's eyes are open, enormous and red and furious.\n\n\"Christ, Mike, just ask for it.\"\n\nThe ogre says, it's jowls wobbling. Except it's not an ogre. It's Marty. He's like eighty and shouldn't be here anymore, that's why he sleeps in the janitorial room.\n\nSnores like an ogre...which I suppose is how this came about.\n\n\"I know but this is more fun.\"\n\nHe rolls his eyes and shifts his feet, tossing the hammer from his toolbelt at me.\n\n\"You're a weird guy, Mike. Weird guy. Stop calling me ugly too, I'm old and fat not deaf!\"\n\nHe instantly is back asleep and I laugh. If only he knew I wanted the hammer to build a fort...\n\nAlso to fix a bathroom stall door but...mostly a fort." ]	1
	[WP] Instead of "Let there be light," or a big bang, this universe began with "Hey y'all, watch this!"	[ "In the beginning Leroy created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of Leroy was hovering over the waters.\n\nAnd Leroy said, \"Hey y'all, watch this!\" and there was light. Leroy saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. Leroy called the light \"day,\" and the darkness he called \"night.\" And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.\n\nAnd Leroy said, \"Y'all check this out!\" And Leroy made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it. And it was so. Leroy called the vault \"sky.\" And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day.\n\nAnd Leroy said, \"You thought that was cool? Watch this!\"\" And the water was gathered to one place, and dry ground appeared. Leroy called the dry ground \"land,\" and the gathered waters he called \"seas.\" And Leroy saw that it was good.\n\nThen Leroy said, \"Now, let's get some stuff growin'!\" And the land produced vegetation: plants bearing seed according to their kinds and trees bearing fruit with seed in it according to their kinds. And Leroy saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the third day.\n\nAnd Leroy said, \"Hey, hold my beer, I'm gonna do the sky now.\" And Leroy made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. Leroy set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And Leroy saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the fourth day.\n\nAnd Leroy said, \"Hey, let's stock this place so we can do some fishin', and duck huntin' too!\" So Leroy created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And Leroy saw that it was good. Leroy blessed them and said, \"Get to havin' babies, so I don't have to do this again every year.\" And there was evening, and there was morning—the fifth day.\n\nAnd Leroy said, \"Hey, I forgot about deer and cows and shit. Hold my beer again.\" And Leroy made the wild animals according to their kinds, the livestock according to their kinds, and all the creatures that move along the ground according to their kinds. And Leroy saw that it was good.\n\nThen Leroy said, \"Let's make some people so we can screw with 'em.\"\n\nSo Leroy created mankind in his own image, \n&nbsp; &nbsp; in the image of Leroy he created them; \n&nbsp; &nbsp; dudes and chicks he created them.\n\nLeroy blessed them and said to them, \"Okay, folks, you got this. Eat all you want.\"\n\nLeroy saw all that he had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the sixth day.", "In the time before time, Science had advanced to the point where it's limits were beyond imagination. In fact, Scientists had solved all mysteries, unveiled all secrets, and began to tackle...other problems. In fact, it wasn't until it was too late that they had discovered that they were solving the NEXT universes problems.\n\nNo, no creatures in lab coats or science projects gone wrong caused the first universe to implode. It was a particularly determined engineer tasked with an impossible assignment that did that iteration in. So, when the engineer turned around after welding the last gravitic weight into place, he didn't profoundly state his intentions to break reality with something quotable. He simply took one final swig of a potent homebrewed swill and said.\n\n\"Hey y'all, watch this!\"", "In the beginning, the siblings three drank and were merry.\n\nYet the more they drank the more their hearts sank,\n\ntil the eldest said as he shook his head:\n\n\"My kin, is it not vain to drink all day and waste away?\"\n\nThis the others pondered, til one answered:\n\n\"But pray, what is this, a \"day\"?\"\n\nAnd there was much laughter.\n\nThe laughter subsided and the elder decided\n\nTo put his drink away and say\n\n\"Hey y'all, watch this!\"\n\n &nbsp; \n\nAnd the sun appeared, bright, shinning, and it brought them light.\n\nSo they drank anew and were merry too,\n\ntil the second of them made a remark. \"It will never be dark,\n\nIt will always be light unless I invent night!\"\n\nThe others were curious, but mostly incredulous.\n\nThe second put her drink aside and cried\n\n\"Hey y'all, watch this!\"\n\n &nbsp; \n\nAnd the moon appeared, bright, shinning, and it brought them night.\n\nSo they drank still and were merry until\n\nthe youngest, most inebriated, rose and stated:\n\n\"Our laughter falls on no ears, our might brings no fears\n\nwe cannot have creation without admiration!\"\n\nThe youngest drained the cup to its last drop.\n\n\"HEY Y'ALL, WATCH THIS!\"\n\n &nbsp; \n\nChaos. Madness. Pain. Beings whose existence was torture writhed below and above and all around. The siblings saw but were too frightened to conjure any sort of repair. They slept for a day. They slept for a night.\n\n &nbsp; \n\nAnd when they came to, all was anew.\n\nWhere there had been daylight and moon night,\n\n(As for the creatures of horror, the less said, the better)\n\nwere stars, worlds, life, and more. They were sore\n\nfrom their bender but proud of the splendor\n\ntheir drinking had created. And once more they chanted.\n\n\"Hey y'all, watch this!\"\n\n\\---\n\nThe pupils all have the same question: Where did the wine come from if there was nothing before? The masters simply answer \"Empty your cup and you might see, the answer could be at the bottom!\"\n\n\\---\n\nI hate revising for meters. Please don't make me.*", "Dyr was never a talented student. Wait...is \"was\" even correct when talking about his kind? Anyway, he never was a talented student, always got in to trouble at school. Still his parents sent him to become an alchemist - they have the money for it and they would do anything so that their son would reach a prominent status in Kur'ei society. So at the young age of 46 cycles old Dyr joined the Royal Alchemist Academy.\n\nTo say that young Dyr wasn't a good student would have been an understatement - now being far away from his parents who would rein him in he had total freedom: since Dyr was from a noble line, Academy professors turned a blind eye to his misbehavior. However one of his mischiefs put an end to all of this funny business.\n\nIn the begging of summer, when most of the professors left for the Capital to observe the cyclical alchemy fair, Dyr and two of his companions: Shok, a common acomplice to most of Dyr's misdeeds and Zarus, an incredible student of alchemy who wanted to find someone with whom he could wit in, broke into professor Hals study. \"You think we should be doing this?\" asked Zarus nervously. \"What could possibly go wrong? Hals is senile, he won't notice anything\" Dyr replied. \"He might be, but he spends all of his time here, there is no chance he won't notice we've been here\". Dyr ignored him: \"Shok, watch the door\". Shok seemed disappointed, but agreed, while Dyr went of searching through proffesors cupboards. \"Ooh, here he keeps his potions\" said Zarus after he looked inside the closed box near proffesora desk. \"Lemme see\" said Dyr pushing Zarus aside \"indigestion, luck, joy, laxative...oh here is a potion of sorrow! I sure know a few guys in our class seem too happy, I'll be sure to \"balance\" them out\" said Dyr joyfully while pocketing the potion. \"Wow!\" exclaimed Zarus in the other side of the study \"this must be the map of the entire solar sailway! Here is the Old Way!\" He said as he traced his finger along the bright golden path \"It goes all the way from the Capital to our Mother Planet, Solari...\" As his finger reached the dot that marked the Mother Planet, something clicked and the top of professors desk moved aside, revealing a secret compartment. \"I told you taking Zarus with as was worth it!\" Exclaimed Shok. \"Maybe the old fart isn't as senile as he looks\" murmured Dyr \"let's look inside. In the compartment there was a vial with a golden liquid inside and a piece of paper. Dyr grabbed the bottle and started examining it. Zarus picked up the piece of paper and read it out loud: \"here is my gift to the world, a chance to create joy for all, no longer shall sorrow and violence hount us. If I pass away before my work is done, I ask of you to finish it, for all of us.\" \"Well I guess old man is senile AND insane\" said Dyr. \"Yea, he didn't even explain how to finish this\" commented Shok. \"Wait, I've got an idea\" said Dyr while a mischievous smile filled his face. \"Whatever this is, it focuses too much on joy, I say we spice this up with his sorrow potion!\" \"Sure\" said Zarus who found the video of messing with the old professor most enjoyable. Dyr poured in the red sorrow potion into the vial that was so carefully hidden. Nothing really happened except that the liquid was now more orange and seemed a little bit fiery. \"Huh, I expected something more...\" Dyr was clearly disappointed. \"Wait, if I'm not mistaken, some of the most powerful are activated by heating them\" Zarus said. \"Now you're talking!\" Said Dyr. He pulled out a fire stone from his pocket - the only alchemical object he learned to proficiently make at the Academy. \"Hey y'all, watch this!\" Dyr exclaimed as he put the flame coming from the fire stone to the bottom of professors vial. Then there was light.\n\nNo longer were there Dyr, Zarus or Shok. No longer was there a professors study. No longer was there the Royal Alchemist Academy, nor was there the Capital or the Mother Planet Solaris. Now there was something new, something born of sorrow and joy." ]	4
	[WP] You notice some kids playing tag on a yard with a sign that clearly says “Stay Off Grass”. You go to warn them but a passerby stops you, “It’s too late. Let Nature run its course.”	[ "Suddenly, a crowd gathers around the children and they are incased in a glowing dome. A loud voice is heard over head, “Welcome to your 75th annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor!” \n\nOut of nowhere all of the children are carried by large bots to platforms where they are encaged. Weapons appear in the center of the dome, seemingly out of thin air. The crowd starts counting down in unison, “FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE!” The scared children look at each other, then one of the oldest (who i guessed to be around 13) ran to the center, picked up a sword and went berserk. He ran to one of the other children who was unarmed and cut the kid to pieces. After witnessing the horrific events the other children snapped into action. Some ran to the trees and others to the center to fight for their lives.\n\nI closed my eyes and started to cry in shock and disbelief. When i opened my eyes i was staring at my bedroom ceiling, sweating and gasping for air. My wife whispered, “it was just a dream baby, I’m right here.” \n\n", "The sign first appeared a few years ago, seemingly out of nowhere. It was constructed of wood, specifically oak, and stood firm on the verdant grass of Mr. Bradford's house like a watchful scarecrow. The message, which was masterfully engraved in the dead center of the sign, was short and to the point:\n\n\"Stay Off Grass.\"\n\nNobody bothered questioning the sign. It was just... there, and everyone simply abided by it's law without argument. \n\nThen came the first incident.\n\nThere were a few kids, the oldest no more than ten years of age, casually enjoying the sunny Thursday afternoon. They jumped and pranced joyfully, exchanging jokes and laughs as the day passed before them.\n\nThen, it happened. It happened before the watchful gaze of my own two eyes:\n\nThey dared tread the fields of Mr. Bradford.\n\nInstinctively, I begin to call out at the innocent children in an attempt to save them from the fiery wrath of Mr. Bradford. \"Get out! You-,\" I began.\n\n \"No, don't,\" a passerby interrupts. I turn to face the source of the voice, and notice it is none other than Mrs. Bradford herself. Her face is covered with sweat, her mouth forced open by panic. \"It's too late. Let Nature run its course.\"\n\nI shake my head. \"Are you insane? Who do you think I am?\" I announce. \"The idiotic protagonist of a story who, without reason, follows the orders of a newly-introduced side character? No way.\"\n\n\"What?\" Mrs. Bradford calls out. \"That's not how the story goes.\"\n\nI shoot her a smirk. \"It is now. I'm going to save those kids.\"\n\nMy feet begin to run, seemingly on their own, towards the joyful kids. As I'm about to reach my destination, out of the corner of my eye, I see him. It's Mr. Bradford, and he has something in his hand.\n\nI smile forms across his face. \"Intrusive kids,\" he chuckles. \"Take this.\" Mr. Bradford then lifts up the contraption he's holding, and begins to press down on the crimson-red button in the middle. \n\nThen, the unexpected happens. He drops the contraption. It tumbles around on the ground a few times... then crack. It shatters, beyond repair, into five different pieces.\n\nI had done it. I had, single-handedly, without any outside assistance, saved those kids. In celebration, I run forwards onto the grass, prancing alongside the children.\n\n\"Take that, Mr. Bradford! Your sign is stupid! Nobody cares about it!\" I scream triumphantly. \"This-\"\n\nThen, I see it. Another contraption. An exact copy... and it's in Mr. Bradford's hands. My victorious intent suddenly becomes one of fear. As Mr. Bradford presses down, sealing my fate, I let out two final words:\n\n\"Ah, shit.\" ", "\"It's too late.\"\n\nAs soon as the passerby uttered those sleepy words, claws of glass erupted from the ground and touched the sky, enclosing the unsuspecting, burly kids in this new ecosystem. All of them wore the same horrified expression on their face as they banged on the walls of their glass prison; their voices completely inaudible, their eyes totally blind to the cold white walls of the outside world\n\nI pulled out a walkie-talkie from my pristine white lab coat, absolutely love the mad scientist vibes that the getup gives.\n\n\"Let Nature run its course. Over.\"\n\nA small Mars bar and a packet of chips fell from a hatch at the top of the glass dome. One of the more attentive kids in the dome happened to take notice of the food resting on the pillow of grass and runs as fast as his two short legs could carry him towards it. Hearing the sound of running the other kids turn their attention away from the glass and make a break for it after immediately noticing the food on the ground. \n\nWhat ensued was a brutal fight with all the kids wrestling, kicking, punching and biting each other to win the ultimate prize; chocolate and chips. Completely caught up in their bloodbath their oddly unfitting, robust bodies lasted quite some time before the last of them fell beaten, bloody and on the floor. Two lone, bloody hands pushed through the silent pile of corpses and victoriously pulled out a stained Mars bar in one hand and a crumpled packet of chips in the other.\n\n\"What's his code name again?\" I said, pointing to the victor of this real life battle royale\n\n\"D43 Captain, it's always been D43\" The passerby openly yawned, this much was excusable, we've been running this iteration of the experiment for 72 straight hours after all\n\n\"Right. Extract D43, examine points of impact and increase muscle density accordingly. Over.\"\n\n\"Copy that Captain, sending extraction team. Over\"\n\nI smiled as I realized I was one step closer to reaching my dream with each trial of the experiment. My lifelong dream of having my son be the ultimate battle royale character in the game of life.\u0014", "I was walking past old man Benson's house when I saw 'em. Kids couldn't be more than 8 or 9. I guess they didn't know. I was gonna go let 'em know to get off when Mike came over and said it's too late. It was horrible, this was the first first time I saw it happen. I heard it happening, I heard others stories, but actually watching it. It was terrifying. That grass just jumped up and grabbed 'em. It started wrappin' round them kids. I couldn't do nothing to stop em. The screams as they were gettin' pulled down. " ]	4
	[WP] You are the top player in the world of an obscure game. Today is the start of the Obscure Game Olympics, which you are playing in.	[ "The other team had a solid 5 point lead. This wasn’t looking good. We’d let our defense slip in the last round and ended up paying dearly for it. We had two in the den, but still needed one more spike to tie it up. That was our only hope at this point after we’d whiffed our last attempt at a bounder.\n\nGripping the Teeb in my right hand I broke into a sprint. Remembering this time to look up, I could see another aerial barrage headed my way.\n\n“Predictable” I smirked while deploying my 5 second plasma shield for temporary increased resistance to ballistic damage.\n\nAs the shells began raining down, harmlessly detonating around me, two defenders began to charge.\n\nThis was it, now or never. I activated my chrome thruster-pack and launched myself forward. \n\n“Now!” I shouted, and not a second later a blinding flash erupted from a Quasor my teammate had thrown into the fray. This had been a risky strategy. Weapons that powerful effected one’s own team just as much as the enemy’s. It didn’t matter, if I’d timed my jump right, I should be on a straight shot to the enemy’s Jak. \n\nThree. Two.\n\nBeep Beep Beep Beep Beep\n\nI didn’t bother opening my eyes, instead choosing to lazily knock the alarm clock off the dresser. It crashed to the floor but continued. Somehow louder now.\n\nBeep Beep Beep\n\n“Okay, okay, I’m up. Shit.” I jolted upright. “ what time is it?”\n\nI snatched the alarm clock off the floor, managing to silence the damn thing finally. The time read 8:02am.\n\n“No, no, no, fuck!” I’d overslept.\n\nThe tournament started at 8. I rushed over to my desk and shook the mouse vigorously. Luckily my computer was already on. After two failed login attempts I paused, hands shaking. The sleep had worn off, but the adrenaline was making it hard to type.\n\n“Shit, caps lock.” I quickly struck the key and was greeted by the familiar ding of a successful login. The wave of relief that rushed over me was short lived though, as I realized I had only seconds to get to my team before the first game started.\n\nThe Galaccus program took half a minute to boot up. The longest half-minute I’d ever lived. Hands sweating at this point I clicked into the tournament server. To my dread, the first game had already started. \n\n“Damnit!” I slammed a fist into my keyboard. Unfortunately this shook my desk enough to knock my nearly full glass of water off and onto the carpet. That was the least of my concerns. There was no way to get into the game until\nHalf now. A team could sub members in only once and only during the break between switching sides. \n\n“That’s fine, you’re fine, you’ll get in at half and you’ll be fine.” I muttered to myself while fumbling for my headset. With the realization setting in that I’d let the team down, I began to cry.\n\n“Why, why, why?” Clenching my fist, I resisted punching the inanimate object again. “Stop crying you idiot. Pull yourself together.”\n\nIt was several minutes before I regained composure, my team was almost at the half. These first round matches had accelerated timers and so were considerably faster. This meant however that scoring was doubled, a risky tradeoff for some.\n\nI glanced at the score and to my astonishment we were still in it! We were losing, but only by 10. We’d come back from worse. A rush of excitement and anticipation flooded my body.\n\nReinvigorated, I loaded into our team voice chat to let them know I was ready. “Guys, I’m here. I’m so sorry.”\n\nJust as soon as I’d spoken the words, the scoreboard refreshed. We were down by 100. Wait, what? That’s impossible, we were only down by 10. “Hey, talk to me, how we doing, I think my scoreboard is bugged.” I managed to nervously get out.\n\nAfter a long pause came a sigh. “Hey Jackass, thanks for showing up. They just got a Blitz on our Necrocore. We had to forfeit.”\n\n“Thanks for nothing.” Chimed in another.\n\n“I’m outta here.” Came a third frustrated voice.\n\nI stared at my screen in complete shock. My eyes glazed over. Words were still coming through my headset, but none of which I comprehended. Everything was moving in slow motion. My entire life’s work, gone. This was my dream, I’d been training for this for 10 years. This prize was going to get me out of this shithole apartment, I was finally going to start school.\n\nA tightness gripped my chest. There was no pain, but as my vision dimmed and my head dropped, I focused for a brief second on the water stain. Spread out on my carpet, yet so still. It was everything I was, wasted potential.\n" ]	1
	[WP] It's finally happened-- Microscopes have zoomed in so far they've found pixels.	[ "The invention of the Quantum Resolution Scanning Tunneling Microscope was hailed as one of the most important developments of the century, allowing scientists to produce visible images of the sub-atomic level for the first time. It could reveal the appearance of the very building blocks of matter itself.\n\nHowever, once the scientists responsible for the project peered through their latest invention, they found the images returned were quite unexpected; rather than quarks and leptons, the device illustrated what appeared to be a dense grid of red, green, and blue, not unlike what one would expect to find in a computer monitor or other digital display.\n\nDozens of material samples were imaged, silicon, carbon, gold, all with the same results, and a single repeating picture emerged through each and every scan.\n\nThe universe, it would seem, was made of dickbutts." ]	1
	[WP] You are God, and upon creating the universe, you lay down to rest your eyes. When you wake up, you realize you overslept, and the people no longer believe, as they've become technological masters.	[ "#HOW DARE THEY\nBelieving in something else than me? I am the most powerful being. I am more than a being I am the most powerful everything. Multiple religions? What is this? There is only me. Eventhou me is to simple. I can‘t be compressed into a single word. Not with their tiny minds that can‘t even grasp the how behind the universe. Most of them go on with their lives totally unaffected by everything around them. Eat, sleep, die, repeat. Aeons for aeons. More than one time almost anhilated. Politics and war over small things. Don’t they see what they can achive? What they should achive? \nShould I care? In the blink of an eye empires fall as time passes. It doesn't matter. Even if they were perfect I couldn't be statsfied. When was the last time i was statisfied? The answer is simple. Before i slept. When i did things. When i didn't spectate but create. The universe collapses. I start anew. This time i will call them humans. Thats a funny name." ]	1
	[WP]You are a technologically impaired elder that meets with 'several hotties in your area,' has won 100s of 'this site's millionth visitor giveaways,' and have benefited from the guys that all your doctors seemingly hate. Every ad you click on, no matter how far fetched, becomes legitimate	[ "To Whom It May Concern,\n\nIn my youth, life never seemed to go my way. Growing up in the 60’s, opportunity was everywhere, but I never could catch a break. I couldn’t get into college and my high school sweet heart left me after she got accepted. Manual Labor didn’t treat me too bad, but I never could hold a job for longer than a few months. By thirty, I was divorced. By forty, my kids wouldn’t talk to me. By fifty, my chronic health conditions would leave me bed ridden for weeks. \n\nIn one of my health spells about a decade ago, I decided to finally access the internet. I might have been late to the game but this constant boredom drove me to finally give in. I emptied the last of my savings and went to a used computer store. From the moment I open the door, I felt as though I had waken something ancient. I walked to the counter and waited for someone to come assist me. I looked around and marveled at the amount of dust that had accumulated. As I scanned my eyes across the counter, I saw a small brass service bell. The moment I rang it, a large gust of wind swung the door open and it seemed like there was a tornado in the shop. This filled the air with all the dust that was previously undisturbed. This aggravated my condition and it threw me into a coughing fit that took me to my knees. By the time the wind had ceased and I was able to get off my knees and compose myself, I notice that the shop that was old and decrepit was now clean, bright, and filled with what looked like state of the art computers. Amazed at this transformation, I began to slowly turn around to get a 360 view of this shop. By the time I turned facing the counter again there was man standing there with a smile. He asked how he could help me and I told him that I just needed a basic computer. He pulled out a box that looked ancient with writing from a language I had never seen. He put a sheet of paper, which looked like a type of contract, in front of me and I began to read. The only thing that caught my attention was price, which only said, ‘your soul upon death’. I do not have much thoughts on the after life, but my low budget made me think, ‘what the heck why not’. I signed the papers, took the box and left. \n\nThe set- up was not too difficult for a old geezer like me and I was up and running after thirty minutes of arriving to my house. People had warned me of pop up ads, but I got where I got in life by following advice. Needless to say, advice didn’t get me too far. Nigerian prince? Sure I’ll help. Millionth customer with a million dollar prize? What are the odds! Hotties in the area looking for me? I haven’t had much luck since my divorce, so I’ll give it a go. Call it crazy but every warning I got about pop up ads went the opposite way anyone had ever described them. A decade later, I regularly visit Prince Abduli and there is political peace in his country for the first time in years. Needless to say, he shares his prosperity with me because of my investment. I supplement that income with my frequent winnings from online contests. I was able to use this wealth to afford the best doctors, who were able to treat me and enjoy regular health now. My children talk to me again and yes, I did meet many beautiful women and I have been happily married for the past eight years. Buying this computer was the first point in my life where Fortune was finally my friend. Perhaps life decided to pay out my allotted good luck right the end of life. Whatever it was, I was happy, except something drastically changed six days ago.\n\nI was on Facebook doing a quick scan of my friends and family. I saw a post that said, “repost and tag ten of your friends or else I will come for you in seven days”. The picture attached was of a girl in a white night gown but her head was down. Her long black hung down and covered any part of her face that could distinguish her. The picture sent chills down my spine. I didn’t want to meet this girl, so I began to google how to repost on Facebook. I click on the first link and all that came up was the video of the computer sales man that had sold me my computer years ago. He look at me, smiling, and then pressed a small red button right next to him. The computer shut off, and turned into dust. \n\nSince then, food has tasted blander, the sun has felt colder, and the dark feels darker. I have accepted what will happen to me tomorrow. Divide my wealth and property evenly between my children. I love them and I want them to know that. \n\nSincerely, \nBob ", "Most of the other ones had worked, so why won’t this one? \n\nStill, it’s a big risk. I look downwards. The ripped off slip of paper lies in one hand; my phone in the other. I’ve worked so hard for this moment, and still I struggle to dial the number, to complete what I set out to do. Maybe because I know once I do it, there’s only so long I’ll get. \n\nBut I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me explain. \n\n\n\nIt all started when Jamie, my grandson gave me his old computer. Bigger than my first telly, the screen was. Huge. He set up my email, got me on the Facebook, all that stuff. And all these social medias, they’re fine. Just fine. But, you know. I’m old. I’m lonely. I had heard just enough about these computers to know what they were capable of. \n\nWhat do you think I did? Boy was it good. Even popped a few viagra if I wanted a big night in. \n\nNow, I don’t think of myself as a naive person—I’ve seen enough strange advertisements in my time. Hawking their snake oils, their fake solutions to fake problems, telling me if I buy a car I’ll get this or that. But it’s different on a screen, I suppose. So interactive. It was my curiosity that got the better of me. \n\nWhat would you do if you were a lonely old man? “Hot new singles in your area”. Hell, even if it’s just a picture of a hot single in a area, why not click through? I was still googling the word “porn” at this stage (whereas now, I’m proud to tell you, I don’t need to google anything like that). \n\nSo of course I clicked through. I think, really, looking back, that’s the point it started properly. That was when I’d crossed over. As I was—browsing, shall we say—the photos, I got a knock on the door. I zipped myself up all hasty, blood rushing to my cheeks although I wasn’t really sure why. \n\nMy cheeks turned from apples to beets when I opened the door. There she was. Not just a hot single—the hot single. The exact woman I’d been ogling through a screen moments earlier. \n\nShe was a lovely young woman. Feeling out of my depth, I invited her in for a cup of tea. We chatted awhile about her job—she’s training to be a nurse, which explained the outfit—and the state of the economy. She had very strong opinions on the current policy situation, Brexit, Trump and all that. I tried to raise some objections to her frankly silly position on the European Union, but she was having none of it. Even though we disagreed, the conversation gave me a lot of food for thought, and I said goodbye to her half an hour later. \n\nIn case you’re wondering, no—nothing else happened. It’s fine through a computer, through that pixelated veil of anonymity. But I couldn’t in good faith advance on her while she was in my house. She was younger than Jamie, for chrissake. It wouldn’t be right. No, no. Not for me. \n\t\nI tell you this not just because it was the start, but because this bit of advert magic—the hot new single, was the one that led to the incident with the paper and the phone. I’ll explain shortly, but I think maybe you need to understand the range of what happened. I clicked on a dodgy skincare advert, showing a before and after sequence which was clearly two different women of different ages, and hey presto. I looked in the mirror afterwards and my wrinkles were gone. \n\nFor a while at least. Did I mention? The advert-magic, like all magic, came with strings. Things never lasted too long. But still—I’m used to impermanence. After the third friend’s funeral, after watching your closest family (apart from the kids, thank god, and I’m lucky in that regard, I know) peel away, you become well acquainted with the ephemerality of everything. I earnt £3,000 in a day working from home—but the next day my bank account was empty. Thankfully I was smart enough by that point to not spend the money, after the confusing incident with the 14 inch penis pump.\n\nWhich brings me to the paper and the phone. See, I’d spent a while testing the limits, figuring out the rules. The magic worked when I clicked through on a computer advert—but not all of them. Some of them had some rudimentary game. Televideo games or whatever they’re called. I didn’t get any effects from those, even if I managed to shoot all the electronic clay pigeons. The advert, it seemed, had to promise, or guarantee, something—not offer it based on chance. No “If you do this right then we’ll give you this.” It had to deal in absolutes.\n\nSo, I figure, whatever’s affecting me, whatever is behind this ability I’ve gained—why wouldn’t it work with other adverts? I began watching more television. I called numbers which came up on the late night discovery channel teleshopping, but all I got was a load of exercise equipment and some “golden oldies” box sets. Which, I might add, I had to bloody pay for!\n\nTV, apparently, wasn’t interactive enough. And I had a very specific idea in mind. I went to a load of the local charity shops looking for old magazines. Called round some of my old friends (the ones who didn’t live in coffins or jars) to ask to leaf through any newspapers they had from back in the day. But still I couldn’t find what I was looking for.\n\nAdmittedly, I am a little proud of the plan I hatched. I spent a morning clicking through all the seediest, nastiest adverts I found, and by noon I had amassed an army—and I mean army when I say army—of hot young singles, sexy russian brides, and horny MILFs in my area. They spread across the charity shops, antique shops, and through those bidding sites like eBid and the one with the tree, finding as many old magazines from the 50s and 60s as they could find. I had filled the spare room, the loft and the living room with them by that evening. \n\n\n\nIt’s taken me months to sort through all those magazines and papers. But I eventually found what I was looking for. \n\nBecause—and I’m sorry for not saying earlier, but it’s hard to talk about. There’s only one thing I’m after, really. And it’s something rarely promised by an advert. \n\nI lost her four years, three months and twenty-seven days ago. It was a slow death, which, I suppose, is better. We said our goodbyes. \n\nMy dear Catherine. \n\nWhat would you do, if you were a lonely old man? If you discovered this power, this advert magic?\n\nLike I said, I’m used to hucksters advertising strange, outlandish things. Backaday when I was a kid, you could buy these old magazines, these serials, which offered you x-ray vision glasses for a shilling or two, “hovercars” if you were rich and could send off a few quid. And yeah, leafing through the bits and bobs which my army of Russians, MILFs and singles had brought back, I did have a go on a few of these stranger adverts—you know. To test if it worked from the magazines in the same way as the computer. The insta-beach bod was pretty fun, I must admit. Turned a few heads. \n\nBy the third month, I was sure I wasn’t going to find what I was looking for. Wasn’t even sure it existed. Until I stumbled upon this strange magazine—Night Tales and Mysteries, it was called. I thumbed through it without much expectation. There’d been plenty of others with dark, esoteric names such as this one, which had turned up nothing in the back pages where the adverts lie. \n\nI almost missed it, if I’m honest. My cataracts have been playing up for years now, since before Catherine passed. But something, whatever it was, maybe my subconscious brain, made me re-read one of the advert pages over.\n\nAnd just like that, there it was. \n\n“Phone Calls with the Dead”, it said, simply, in bold black text against a white background, followed by a phone number. Nothing else. A low effort advert—something designed specifically to prey on the old, the bereaved, the confused. Exactly what I needed.\n\nSee, I’d tried the psychic adverts, both online and from the papers. But all they promised, all they guaranteed, was a psychic. So, of course, I got a psychic. A snake oil merchant who cold-read, who pretended to talk to Catherine. I turfed the first one out in disgust, shaking with rage. Smashed her crystal ball and everything. \n\nThis one—this Night Tales ad—was perfect. It was so vague, so impersonal, promising nothing but what I needed. \n\nAnd so here I am, fingers hovering over my old, corded, phone, working up the courage to dial. \n\nMy eyes return again and again to the slip of paper on which the advert is printed. I take deep in and out breaths as I skate over each individual number.\n\nLike I said, these things don’t last. I have to make it count. \n\nOutside, through the window, the sun is burrowing below the horizon, shooting burning candle-light slants through the blinds. My living room is a paper jungle. I huff in the musty stench of my own body odour (you know it’s bad when you can smell it yourself), and scratch the grey straggles of a beard that have sprouted from my face in the past few months.\n\nWhat am I waiting for? Nothing else to do but do it. I still don’t know what to say. \n\nBut that never stopped us talking before.\n\nI dial the number and hold my breath.\t\n\nMy heart skips a beat as the phone rings, a shrill, garbled tone, as if it’s breaking—as if it’s struggling to keep itself running. \n\t\n‘Hello?’ comes a voice. It’s crackling, I can barely make it out. ‘John?’\n\nMy heart crests; a tear rolls down my cheek. ‘Catherine. My god, Catherine. I can’t believe it’s you.’\n\nThere’s a pause. The longest pause of my life. Eventually the voice speaks. ‘Who’s Catherine?’\n\nThe room goes cold, freezes over like a sped up glacier. And then I realise.\n\nThe Advert just said “speak to the dead”. That’s it. It didn’t say who. I notice, in the back of my mind, that the light spilling through the window is no longer there. That everything has turned suddenly dark, as if a blanket of shadow has descended upon the world. \n\t\nThe voice, which I now realise is not a woman’s—may not even be a man’s—crackles and gargles. \n\t\n‘It’s so cold here,’ says the ghost. \n\t", "When I was young, my father always told me that I shouldn't \"look a gift horse in the mouth.\" I've never really understood what that god-forsaken phrase came from, but I got what it was trying to get at. Don't be ungrateful for a gift that's given to you. My father was always a hardworking man, not always the kindest, but he's good when he's got to be. God-fearing, war-loving, but most of all a man that knew what to say and when to say it.\n\nI bring this up because recently I've been toying with this new contraption that my daughter bought for me. It's a beautiful device that lets a person interface with an incredible array of interconnected devices. And in it there were all sorts of people, who out of the goodness of their heart, were giving away promotional prizes, miracle cures, and bedroom enhancements! Anything I could ever need or want could be summoned from this wonderful device.\n\n\"Sorry ma'am,\" Grayson said. He bowed and put down a silver platter. The china rattled against each other. The ring of clashing ceramics sent a bolt of lightning down my spine. Some things never change. It was coffee and some danishes. \"But your afternoon refreshments are ready.\"\n\n\"Don't worry Grayson,\" I said, \"I was just lost in my thoughts.\" \n\nHe bowed. Grayson was a nice boy, young and full of energy. Though, not sure about where he comes from. The skin's a little too ambiguous to tell, and I have never had the heart to ask. But you know, sometimes those things just don't matter on a person. It's what's on the inside is what is good.\n\nThe computer ticked again. A new mail arrived! Always an exciting prospect. Last time it was an age-reversing formula, and the time before that it was a nice man who needed help transferring financial assets.\n\nI opened the e-mail.\n\nIt was from Erica! I hadn't seen her since last Christmas. I cleared my throat and read aloud just so I could hear the sound of my voice again, \"Dear mom,\" it started, \"It's been some time since I last called you! I hope you are well. Me and Hal,\" oh dear, it's \"Hal and I,\" Erica, didn't you learn anything from grammar school?\n\n\"Me and Hal have finally gotten back from our assignment in Eastern Europe. Sorry I couldn't tell you what we were doing for so long, but it's good to return from deployment overseas. The current administration has been insane on our hours!\" Goodness gracious, I hope she's feeling all right. Overwork kills so many young adults nowadays. When she gets back, I should give her all of that money that man gave me for unfreezing his bank account. Maybe Erica won't have to work so hard then. \"We should be back in the valley within the week. I hope that the nursing staff has been treating you well. I know that would be pretty difficult to make the adjustment from your old living arrangement into the new one.\"\n\nI leaned forward. I don't really remember moving, but then again, I haven't been able to remember all that much since the nineties. \n\n\"We'll be stopping by Japan on our way back and I was wondering if there was anything that you would like. I know that you've always been a big Japanophile ever since you were young. Love you dearly, Erika and Hal.\"\n\nWhat a nice surprise! I was just thinking that I hadn't seen anything good out of Japan in my recent memory. I had the time, I had the money, maybe I should go once more, for old time's sake. I got up. \"Grayson!\" I called, letting my voice carry out in the hall.\n\n\"Yes ma'am?\" Grayson answered. He was standing behind me in his uniform. \n\n\"Could you do me a favor and see how much tickets are to Japan?\"\n\nHe paused and looked at me. \"Why would you like to know ma'am?\"\n\n\"Well I was just thinking that now that I feel better than I have since the war, I could try a little bit of travelling again. I finally have the money, the time, and now the body to do so.\"\n\nGrayson smiled kindly. I frowned. I knew that type of smile, it was the sort that my father would give me whenever he couldn't give me what I wanted. \"I'm sorry ma'am, but I don't think I can do that.\"\n\n\"And if I could ask, why not?\"\n\nGrayson tilted his head to the side, \"That is outside your scope of activities.\"\n\n\"What is the scope of my activities?\"\n\nGrayson bowed, \"I am at no liberty to say. If you could, please reply to your daughter's inquiry.\"\n\n\"I would quite like a physical copy of one of those comics that I used to read. Ah... what was it called, it's been so long.\"\n\nThe computer clicked. It was a new mail.\n\n\"One simple trick to improving your memory.\" Wonderful! I opened it and read through the exercises.\n\n\"Berserk is what it was. Yes, it ought to have finally been finished by now, right?\"\n\nGrayson bowed, \"We will see. Miss Erica is currently responding.\"\n\nThe computer clicked. It was a new mail from Erica!\n\n\"Hi mom,\" it read, \"I'll see what I can do about getting some for you. What's the last volume you have?\"\n\nI paused and had to think about it. \"Volume 40, I think?\"\n\nThe computer clicked. \"Sure thing mom.\"\n\nI sat back down. I felt like I was forgetting something now again. But that memory stirred a fond nostalgia inside of me. It reminded me of my father. My father was always a hardworking man, not always the kindest, but he's good when he's got to be. God-fearing, war-loving, but most of all a man that knew what to say and when to say it. One of the things he always loved to tell me that I shouldn't \"look a gift horse in the mouth.\"", "\"I can't figure this damn thing out!\" The screen flashed a bright red button in front of me. An offer to claim a million dollars taunted me with page after page popping up, turning my once calm bedroom into one of those night club raves that the youngsters do these days. I kept clicking on the button, but only yet another button appeared. I must have clicked a hundred times before I finally gave up. Turning the computer off, I went to bed wondering what those 5 Best Uses of Banana Peels I Would Never Believe were, and if I ever would believe them.\n\nThe next morning a knock on my door woke me up. I pulled the oxygen tube out of my nose and lumbered out of bed. Probably one of those Boy Scouts again trying to rob me of my social security check for a box of chocolates, I thought. But damn are they delicious... The cookies I mean, I clarified to myself. \n\nI opened the door to a crowd of cameras and a man with a large rectangular board. \n\n\"CONGRATULATIONS!\" they all shouted in unison, releasing hundreds of balloons up to the sky. Flabbergasted, I received the board they shoved at me, posed for a picture, and struggled to understand what happened as they all drove off. I looked at the board. \n\n Pay To The Order Of \n\n(Should I trust you with my name? You're a stranger, afterall)\n\n $100,000,000\n\nOne... One hundred... million dollars! I couldn't believe it. \n\nI hobbled over to the computer and looked at the screen I had left it the night before. There they were. Exactly one hundred pop up windows. But as soon as my arthritic fingers maneuvered to the computer control rodent, the windows went away. \n\nMaybe there's something to this newfangled Internet thing after all. Maybe you're alright, stranger.\n\n\n________________________\n\n\n\n\"Harold,\" the gorgeous blonde across the room called out to me. She had been among a thousand local singles in my area looking for a good night. \"Come back to bed, I've been waiting for someone like you for ages.\"\n\nThe light from the computer screen cast an unnatural glow in the corner of my bedroom. Hunched in my chair, I wanted to join her, but an urgent email appeared in my inbox. A kidnapped Nigerian prince needed my help. " ]	4
	[WP] In a bid to save the human species from extinction, you have been put in cyrosleep and sent to an earth-like planet 10,000 light years away. You wake up to find that during your travels, humanity developed FTL drives and have beaten you by tens of thousands of years. You are a living relic.	[ "My partner and I were chosen as seeders by the science division of our government's “Redeem Humanity” campaign. With the war making our home world almost uninhabitable, it was decided to send one vessel into deep space, find a new habitable world and set down. One hundred pods would contain one hundred people, all with doctorate degrees and published works. That left us with sixty-five women and thirty-five men. Whatever we didn’t have was programmed into the state of the art AIs of the ship’s crew of androids. \n\n“Admin,” the Leviathan’s android captain addressed me. I was a programmer, so I was given admin privileges on the ship to handle any complications with the ship's AI or that of her crew. “It's time.” \n\nI got into pod. I was able to see Earth through an open view-port. North America was barely visible through the dark gray atmosphere, but I could still make it out. \n\nThe android spoke to command as it began activating our pods. \n\nThrough the view-port I was able to see a large ball of white smoke appear over the east of North America.\n\nI opened my eyes and looked around. All the pods had opened. The other seeders were opening their eyes. My muscles were stiff, and I couldn’t think clearly, but I knew. Washington had been bombed. We lost the war. Earth was lost forever. We were the last of humanity, and its last chance at an honorable legacy. \n\nAs I watched the others get out of their pods. I heard them talking. Someone opened the view-ports' armored plating and moonlight filtered through the glass. We were on a new planet. They were asking if their loved ones might still be alive, or maybe grandchildren. I couldn’t help myself from sobbing, because I was the only one who knew the fate of Earth. I was the one who had to tell them, but I couldn’t bring myself to get out of my pod. \n\n“Sam?” It was my partner’s voice. “Sam are you alright?” \n\nA new voice spoke over the crowd. Everyone went silent. A cold sweat came over me, and I began to tremble. \n\n“Welcome to New Eden!” It was a British accent. I stumbled out of my pod. Each one my limbs were shaking. I threw an accusatory look at the newcomer. I didn’t bother to think about how this Brit had gotten aboard. \n\n“You bombed us!” I shouted at him. “You sealed our fate, you destroyed us all!” \n\nEveryone was silent. We all knew the British had sided with the Western Republic against the Eastern United States. We were the last government that still believed in diplomacy, and sovereignty of states. Tensions had been rising between our government and the British Republic at the time of our launch. \n\n“My apologies sir,” the Brit responded with a slightly confused look on his face. “But I’m afraid you’re a bit delirious after being in stasis for nearly twelve thousand years. We would never dare attack the Leviathan.” \n\n“No,” I said, “not the Leviathan. Washington DC. Our capital. You British destroyed us!” \n\n“What?” The Brit looked extremely puzzled now. “I’m sorry sir, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean. \n\n“I’m Dr. Michael Lamm, by the way,” he added as he looked around the room at the rest of frightened seeders. \n\n“The Leviathan just landed on this planet a few hours ago,” he said. “A delegation from our four towns is waiting outside to meet you. I was sent ahead to make sure there were no medical difficulties.” \n\n“So where are your tools?” my partner asked. “You came in here with no bag, no supplies, nothing. You expect us to believe you?” \n\n“Tools?” The Brit asked with a smile. He took a small metal sphere out of a pocket and let it go a few inches in front of his face. The sphere expanded as parts opened up and appendages extruded from it. It hovered next to the Brit. \n\n“Hello!” the sphere announced. “I am O’Boy-08-367 medical droid, but you may call me O’Boy. How can I help?” \n\nIt also spoke with a British accent. \n\nThe Brit looked at the droid and said, “well O’Boy these people seem to be frightened by my presence here. This is the crew of the Leviathan. Do you have any information that may help?” \n\n“Accessing information on Leviathan. Would you like information on Leviathan-A, Leviathan-162, or the Leviathan class in general?” \n\n“No, O’Boy. The Leviathan. The one launched before the realisation.” \n\n“Oh, just a moment please.” O’Boy entered a monologue. \n\n“About twelve thousand years ago, the Eastern United states launched the Leviathan into space with one hundred of its smartest citizens in an attempt to save humanity’s legacy. The Republic Alliance mistook it as a weapon, and in a preemptive strike the Republic fired a nuclear warhead at the States' capital of Washington DC just hours after the launch. This was later known as the Eastern Massacre. \n\n“They realised their mistake a few minutes later as the Leviathan left Earth’s orbit. The survivors of the Eastern Massacre had managed to save some of the research regarding the Leviathan. However, details regarding the Leviathan’s trajectory were lost along with the names of most of her crew. Daniel Gale rose to the occasion when the whole world had gone into shock.” \n\nMy son? Danny survived? No not just survived, he was a part of history. \n\n“Daniel brought world leaders together in a conference now known as the Realisation. They all signed to hand over control to a new centralised government. Under the control of the new government, mankind repaired the damage caused to the planet. Medical breakthroughs were able to cure diseases and poisoning caused by the war, and further technological advancements allowed humans to improve on the design of the Leviathan’s engines and create the sub-spatial engine. This has finally allowed humanity to reach for the stars.”\n\nI felt tears rolling down my face as O’Boy finished its monologue. A sharp pain in my arm told me I was coming out of the initial shock of waking up. My right arm was apparently broken. It explained why I couldn’t use that hand. I waved my left hand at the Brit and pointed to my right arm. I can sort out my feelings for the British later. I don’t have a very high pain threshold.\n\nThe Brit turned to the droid.\n\n“Well O’Boy, it seems we have our first patient. Shall we have a look?”\n\nThe Brit and the droid advanced toward me.\n\n“How many are on this world? How long ago did you get here?” I asked the Brit. \n\n“Oh… About a quarter million humans. We only reached this world about five thousand years ago. Didn’t set up colonies until about five hundred. \n\n“Can you believe how small the universe is? I’m actually a descendant of the great Daniel Gale.” \n\nMy heart stopped, and I must have fainted. When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a bed in one of the ship’s cabins. My partner was in the room with me. My right arm was perfectly fine. \n\n“Maria? What happened?” \n\n“You fainted Sam. It was incredible!” She told me how the droid fixed my broken arm in less than a minute just by prodding it with one of its appendages. \n\n“How do you feel? I’ve never seen anything like that.” \n\n“Do you even understand what happened?” \n\n“Yes!” She exclaimed, barely containing her excitement. “Humanity survived. They advanced much further than we could have imagined!” \n\n“No,” I shook my head. “Humanity grew, and they left us behind. We’re ancient. Relics of a time and a war long forgotten. Our expertise is useless. Did the doctor even touch me himself?” \n\nMaria’s smile faded.\n\nI continued, “We have nothing to offer. We will be social pariahs. We have a learning curve with their advancements. I doubt we would even be able to comprehend those advancements in our own respective fields. We have nothing to contribute.” \n\nShe lowered her head. “Is that why you fainted?” \n\n“No,” I said. “I fainted when the Brit told me he was my descendant.” \n\n“Oh,” her head shot up, “but isn’t that great? Your line survived the war.” \n\n“I’m no geneticist, but if our descendants survived, the crew of the Leviathan would be isolated biologically for a few generations.\n\n“The crew of the Leviathan has been left behind.”", "They seal my pod, but it feels like a casket.\n\nBefore long I begin to dream. At first I dream of the dying world behind. The plague choked, hunger stricken, violent maelstrom - as hellish as it may be - is all I’ve ever known. Even though it was a nightmare, a part of me never wanted to wake from it.\n\nI dream of his face there, being brave for me. He wasn’t selected to go; a history of heart disease in his family disqualified him. I saw him one last time before I went to the shuttle. We said goodbye and I made my way to the platform. He was barely out of sight before I broke down and cried, and cried, and cried. I didn’t stop until the Earth was long out of sight. In my dream he’s there on the shuttle with us for a moment, but then he’s not. There again and not, over and over. I won’t let him go. Never.\n\nI’m dreaming of a new world now. A pearl in the deep with green fields. I can breathe deeply here. I can lie for hours. I can eat sweet fruit. No masks, no fires, no riots, no rations. I run over a mountain and into a river and dive down into the blue heart of the world, crisp, cool, safe.\n\nSafe? No, there is something in the heart of this world that suffers no intruder. The water turns sour and congeals into teeth; a head rears and boils hatred at me. I run from the thing until I sputter and choke and vomit. The grass is prickly. The air is a burden. The mountain which I ran over warps and looms overhead. This world is no better. What if it is no better?\n\nMy dream changes again. It’s cold now, and a voice is speaking. It’s the pod’s voice. I startle awake to an alarm.\n\n“Catastrophic containment failure. Pods 4 through 15 lost.”\n\n“Catastrophic containment failure. Pods 1 through 125 lost.”\n\n“Catastrophic containment failure. One pod remaining. Reserve power only.”\n\nThe twin tides of fear and certainty wash over me as I’m sent back to sleep.\n\nI am alone.\n\nI am in a void within a void. \n\nI dream again; I’m on a hill, and I look out to see other slopes, rolling out in a long chain. He’s on one of them. I run to him, but it slithers out of sight. \n\nI’m on the sea now. It roils and churns, frothing with a groan that sounds like its death rattle. I see the boat below me begin to sink and I jump to the shuttle again. No, it’s not safe here. I can’t be here. I call for help down the metal corridor and no one answers. \n\nI’m on the boat again. It’s shrouded by a mist and still sinking. I bail the water out with limp hands, frantic. I must stay afloat. Won’t someone help me?\n\nI’m alone. I’m alone.\n\nThe boat scuttles itself on the planet which will be my new home. I’m exhausted. The beach is empty. The waves do not make a sound, eerily sneaking up and sliding back, again and again, for an eternity. I wait here and rest, crying out to a line of dark trees along the shore.\n\nI lie there on my back and watch a dim sun pass overhead again and again. How long has it been? I’ve been screaming for thousands of years. The sky turns black and reaches out to me with cold hands. They fill my vision and sweep me away onto a sandy plain. I tumble there for years, nauseous and disoriented. I run across the plain looking for something I lost in a time that I can’t remember. I’m trying to find something over the horizon, but it’s always just out of sight, moving with me, around me, behind me. My legs turn gelatinous and I make my way, inch by inch, over a leering empty world until it spins away below me, disappearing down into the abyss.\n\nI scan the night, looking for a face, any face. His face.\n\nHis face. He is there. He pulls me free into a light.\n\nI open my eyes.\n\n“... lucky... slow at first.”\n\nThe words come around slowly.\n\n“Can you hear me? Can you understand what I’m saying?”\n\nThe effects of the long sleep begin to slough off. I’m lying on some kind of bed. \n\nThey explain it to me, carefully. How I’m safe here on my new home, but I’m not alone. Humanity almost rioted itself into oblivion, but I’m not alone. Not alone. They’re here. They’re with me.\n\n“Would you like to see? It might be a shock, but we’re pretty proud of what we’ve built. I think you’ll like it.”\n\nNot alone.\n\nHe gestures to a window, and it dissolves to reveal a city, like no city I’ve ever seen. Strange, almost incomprehensible architecture. Is that even what it is?\n\nNot alone. I begin to cry harder than when I left him behind.\n\n“I’m sorry, is this upsetting you? I’ll close it...”\n\nHe begins to wave his hand again, but I reach out to stop him.\n\nNot alone. The words reverberate in my head over and over. Never alone again." ]	2
Make it a novel and make me cry.	[WP] Before He Died Your Grandfather Wrote You A Poem, Handing It To You On His Death Bed He Made You Promise Only To Read It After His Funeral. You Read The Poem, And Are Transported Back In Time And Meet Him In His Early Twenties. The Amount Of Adventure That ensues Takes You Very, Very Off Guard.	[ "\\--Part 1:\n\nOn his deathbed, gramps handed me a tiny piece of paper. His grip on it was firm as he told me \"Markus, you need to promise me to read this. But. Only after my funeral boy. This is my last wish and I hope you comply.\" I nodded and hugged the old bastard. My other graddad died when I was three and a half and so he was my one and only beloved gramps Arthur.\n\nA short week after his final breath we all gathered at the funeral. I got two cousins, but they are ten and eight, so my sixteen year old self had the duty to honor our granddad. \"Gramps was the best. We never had a fight and he always had a tale to tell. I cannot speak of heavens and hell, but I know if there's something like that he'll have a splendid afterlife. We'll miss u much...\" With those words my spech ended apruptly. Undoubtedly because of the giant lump in my throat. The tears in my eyes told the whole story and my father came to relieve me.\n\nAfter the funeral a thought hit me and I remembered the little note he gave me. I pulled it out of my pocket, yeah I know ...who wears the same trousers for weeks and weeks?, and began to read \"Tempus erit hereditas. Amittit pallium suum.\" and because it seemed to make sense,I read it again out loud \"TEMPUS ERIT HEREDITAS. AMITTIT PALLIUM SUUM.\"\n\nA deafening crackling noise and white light took every sense I had and buried it beneath its sensations. I just wanted it to stop and it did.\n\nThe next thing I remember was a familiar smell as I opened my eyes. I must have passed out. But how could this be? \"Markus. You've slept almost twelve hours. Have you come to brake my record? Well then good luck. Put another 20 on top and you're good to go! Hahaha\" I couldn't even begin to comprehend. I was sitting in my gramps garden shed and in front of me a man in his twenties who seems to be well acquainted with me. Baffled I tried to stand up but my feet gave away and I had to sit again. \"Aah give it a minute boy we have enough time to get you back on your feet. Mind if I smoke a pipe while I put those books away?\" Absently he's gesturing to the pile of seemingly antique books as it hit me hard. \"Gramps?\"...\n\n\\-- Part 2:\n\n\"Yeah..can you do me a favor and call me Arth? this is kinda embarassing for me you know. I haven't even met your grandma yet\". \"But how is this possible? Arth?\" I asked my young granddad who seems to be cleaning up a broken chalk circle and some candles. \"Can you please fill me in? How did I get here and more importantly WHY?!\" A serious expression crossed his face and he slightly bent forward to meet my gaze. \"This is our family curse. You are a time keeper initiate and after my death it is your purpose to guard the time continuum agains all kinds of demons and witches.\" \\gulp\\ In utter disbelief I stare in my granddads face. The second after he starts laughing manically \"You. Hahaha. You should have seen your face boy. Hahahaa.\" I tried to wrap my head around this scenery but couldn't make any sense of it. \"Okay Markus. You are indeed a descendant of mages, but I got you here for the sole purpose of guiding you through your basic training and maybe getting to know my grandson a little better.\" That was a weight off my mind, but still I couldn't comprehend. \"Why not Dad? Is he also a mage?\" Headshaking Arth told me \"No this gift usually skips one generation, and between us two, your father has a giant stick up his ass. He'd never get over himself if he had any powers. Believe me it's better that way.\" snickering I agreed. My dad was always the correct provider of our family. There never were any doubts about his qualities and with providing they were exhausted. But you know everyone is supposed to love their parents so I nodded quietly.\n\n\\-- Part 3:\n\n\"As you've slept well into the afternoon I guess I'll show you around a little and then it's time for dinner.\" I was still a little waggly on my feet but I managed to stand up and tailed Arth. We went from the shed to the house, which I remembered quite well even though my last visit to the house was ages ago. Most of the rooms were furnished pretty spartan(ly), but one room I woul've never recognized. His office was filled to the brim with antique books and scrolls, as well as potions and dried herbs in glasses stacked in shelves that were mounted on 2 sides of the room. He tossed me a old tome and told me to begin with the first 20 chapters for a basic understanding what I'll be dealing with in the next few weeks to come. The dusty pages made me cough...a lot. The book read 'magical initiation for dummies.' ...Accepting my fate I started.'Chapter 1: What is magic? Magic is the energy that holds together the universe. From the big bang until today is magic the force that creates and destroys in its raw form. There are different schools that tinker with different aspects like elemental magic or spiritual magic. For every mage to be there are three things they need to internalize. 1: You need to be steadfast in your beliefs to work with this kind of power. 2: The practices you use should be well trained and known. Experience is everything. 3: Don't be a dick.' \"What? Okay...\" I thought\" I would've to ask Arth who the Author was\". Slowly turning the book made everything clear. 'Arthur Brannon was part of the Mages Council for 10 years when he decided to let the young generation participate in his knowledge'. When Arth came back with drinks and sandwiches I was already at the end of 'Chapter two: A mages tools and their importance'. \"Arth when do you tell me how I've ended up here?\" \"Ah this is a tale for another day. All I can tell you now is, that there were multiple forces at work and bringing you back where you belong will be a hard piece of work for both of us. But for now you are pretty safe here and we should use the time for your training in the Arts.\" His smile was everything else but reassuring, but still he was my grandpa, or at least he will be as far as I know." ]	1
	[WP] An older person realizes they can summon Satan at will	[ "“These really are a nice touch this time.”\n\nAngelica placed the cookies gently in front of her sitting guest. The heat coming off his body made them soften just right.\n\n“Well after last time I realized that maybe I needed to sweeten the pot,” Angelica replied.\n\nLucifer slowly took a bite of the warm chocolate chip cookies. They were indeed near perfection. If he didn’t already have the soul of almost every cook and baker that ever existed (gluttony was an easy one for them to break) he would perhaps consider this trade.\n\n“We discussed this last time and the time before that. I really wish we didn’t need to have this conversation on a weekly basis. I do not want your soul.”\n\nLucifer looked up from his plate and saw the sweet old lady staring down at him. There was a sense of determination in her grey eyes. He had assumed around summoning number fourteen that perhaps she was just lonely. That theory was shattered during summoning number twenty when he found himself surrounded by her party guests, him being a simple parlor trick to entertain them. He had rightfully assumed that she was hoping that particular humiliation would cause him to relent to her request.\n\nShe had tried to guilt early on, saying that she was a sinner and needed to pay. However, his greatest gift was viewing the entirety of a person’s life in a blink of an eye. The lady in front him had indeed sinned, everyone has. But she had always asked for forgiveness and the good that was deep engrained in her far outweighed any punishment she thought she deserved. \n\nThankfully, he also knew when she was lying.\n\nAnd she lied a lot.\n\nShe needed to be with family in his realm. Lie.\n\nShe had lost faith in God. Lie.\n\nShe did not believe the devil was all powerful as was believed. Lie.\n\nHe was starting to worry that all these lies would slowly tip the scales and he would be forced to take her.\n\n“You have not yet tried my sweet tea though,” Angelica stated. She left the devil to sit alone with the cookies in her small kitchen.\n\n“We really need to stop this, nothing you say or do will change my mind,” he paused, unsure if he should say the next sentence. “You are running out of time. Your power clouds my ability to see your true intentions; but I can still see when the fog you hold over me will lift which means only one thing.”\n\nThe old lady returned and slowly poured her famous sweet tea into a frog mug her great granddaughter had made her for her birthday last year.\n\n“Was that a threat?” Angelica smiled. She had hoped the threat would lead to her final wish.\n\nLucifer sighed deeply, taking one more morsel into his mouth and a sip of what indeed was a delicious drink.\n\n“I have a busy day ahead of me Sister, perhaps we can discuss this next week further,” he said, standing up away from the table, hoping that she would grant him this one request.\n\n“Fine,” the old lady said and with a brush of the hand, the devil disappeared from her tiny apartment.\n\nShe slowly cleaned up the table, pleased that he appeared to be weakening in his resolve. She would save all those sinners; she believed she could end their suffering. She would be with them soon to show them the light." ]	1
	[WP] God has a loyalty scheme and has started issuing discount vouchers for sins of your choice. You have been saving long and hard. Today the post arrives.........	[ "“What’re you waiting for Todd? Open it!”\n\nMy brother, Lazlow, is eager to see what one of these actually looks like. Neither of us have seen a salvation ticket before. We’ve heard word on the streets from people at church, but these are so hard to come by. \n\nEver since God came back to earth, things have been different. For one, Gods a dick. He immediately... poofed.. one of the preachers into oblivion, and he was gone in a mist of pink smoke, like, gone gone. Infidelity, God claimed. Whatever. I think it was just display of power. He also really seems to like rum for whatever reason. He introduced these tickets as incentive to give to the church, and todays the day that I finally gave enough. All it took was $20,000 and 6,000 Hail Mary’s. \n\nI open the letter and pull out the shiny foil ticket. It’s red with golden cursive font reading “Do whatever you want, I don’t care” on it. I thought it would be nicer, but hey I’ll take it. \n\n“What’re you gonna do with it? Are you gonna rob a bank? Spit on a grave? Cmon tell me!”\n\n“Relax, I’m saving it for a rainy day.” \n\n“A rainy day? Are you kidding me? Dude you can do literally anything you want! I know! Let’s go have some fun with the Winslow girls down the street, huh? You wanna?”\n\n“Fine. Whatever. So long as you shut up about it.”\n\nLaz has had this thing for Amy Winslow, a girl a year younger than him, since she and her twin sister, Tina, grew into their bodies and had all the guys in town drooling. And now that he’s 23 and can finally grow a full beard, he thinks he actually has a shot. \n\nWe go down the street and pick up up the girls just before sundown and take em down to the ice cream shoppe to talk and hang out a while. \n\n“So hey, Amy,” said Laz, “ Todd’s got one of those tickets that everyone’s been talking about. You wanna see it? Do ya?”\n\n“I mean.. I guess,” she says hesitantly. \n\nI pick up on her discomfort, but Laz is staring at me wide-eyed with his mouth open. I take it out of my pocket and unfold it to show her. \n\n“Cool!” Tina exclaims. \n\n“Yeah,” Amy says in a playing-along voice, “it’s pretty cool..”\n\nAfter a few minutes of awkward silence, I get up to go to the bathroom, because I needed a break. After I get back, Laz explains to me that Tina and Amy wanna go down to the graveyard nearby. Amy looks kinda shy and Tina is looking around to see if anyone heard us. So we hop in Laz’s truck and off we go. \n\nWhen we get there Laz puts his arm around Amy and says they’re gonna take a walk. She has those sad eyes that say I really don’t wanna do this, but Tina blurted out, “That’s a great idea!” So we went our separate ways. \n\n“Sooo... this is kinda spooky,” Tina says, “think we’re gonna see a ghost?”\n\n“Shut up,” I laugh, “ghosts aren’t real.”\n\n“Yeah well that’s what you said about God. You never knooowwww,” she says getting closer, running her fingers up my chest. \n\nI turned and walk away. She’s not like her sister. Amy is kind and gentle. Tina quickly figures out that I’m not into her and we walk awkwardly back to Amy and Laz. When we get to the truck, I see Amy kissing Lazlow. They stop abruptly. \n\n“Oh! Uh... we should get going. Come on Tina..” \n\nThe two walk away from the graveyard and continue around the block. Lazlow turns to me and says something that I don’t hear over the throbbing sound of anger in my head. He’s looking at me, and suddenly his face dims, and he says, “Dude are you okay?” He hadn’t noticed the shovel I found laying near an open grave. \n\nA splinter the handle with the amount of force I hit him with. I roll him into the hole, half conscious. \n\n“I FIGURED OUT WHAT IM DOING WITH THE TICKET,” I scream at him, “ITS YOU.” And I enjoy the sound of loose dirt as it sprays over the filling grave. " ]	1
	[WP] A game of Chess. As told from the perspective of an unmoved pawn.	[ "Not long ago this battlefield was full of enemies and allies alike, however, now it is a barren wasteland.\n\nI have watched my fellow pawns trade their lives in an effort to cross the disasterous plains.\n\nSome have even been taken out by the higher ups.\n\nSome have taken out the higher ups, but it never lasts for long. Soon they too lose their life, and for what? Glory? The king? Nonsense.\n\nThey even deployed the rooks before I have been ordered to move from my position. I'm devastated. I hope orders come soon. I've learned what this \"game\" will do to you. \n\nThis living without direction. It's hard and it hurts.", "I'm one of the lucky ones. That's what I keep telling myself. Some pieces are part of a set that sits in the back of a closet or under a bed. I'm part of a set that is used in a high school chess club. I have helped win battles that seemed all but hopeless. I have played a part in blitzkriegs which left the opponent dumbfounded and shameful. My world IS black and white. It is always the goal to crush the white side.\n\nMy proudest moment came last year, in the state championship game. My player, a young sinewy sophomore playing against the incumbent champion: a senior with frizzy brown hair and a constantly vacant look on his face. We were set up by a volunteer, placed ever so gently on each alternating square of black or cream white. The players shook hands and the match began.\n\nMy player placed his fingers on my top. Am I the first to spill blood? He hesitated. Moved the pawn next to me two spaces instead.\n\nThe opponent mirrored the move. Right-side knight leaped forth into the fray. My player was on the offensive.\n\nThe opponent smiled, as he believed he had found out my player already. My player smiled right back. Lines of pawns marching slowly across the board; a quick death here, an unexpected execution of our right-side bishop from a rouge rook.\n\nThings start to look grim. Just as my player was able to remove a bishop from play, the opponent removed a rook from us. I felt the touch of my player's fingers on my smooth surface several times, but I remained in my second row square of faded white. My queen hid behind me. At least I was able to guard her. Sacrifice seemed to be my only gift.\n\nKings danced across the board, moving in and out of check. The opponent's rook moved behind me. I cannot see. I look into the opponent's face. He betrayed no calm or jubilant grin. \n\nThe words exit his mouth and I knew all was lost, \"Check-mate.\"\n\nThe small box next to the board is pressed one last time and the clock is stopped. I looked across the board; a wasteland of empty checkered space except for an ivory king, queen, and rook.\n\nI was not picked up by hand. I was folded into the board and slid back into the box. Blackness surrounded me. \n\nUntil next time.", "Here I stand, stalwart, the last defense standing between his majesty and these savages that bombard our kingdom. Many of my brethen have fallen, struck down by mighty knights, seige machines, and even god himself. Yet here I stand, unwavering in my cause, protecting our ordained leader. His powerful wife, while leading the charge valiantly against the barbarian horde, fell in an attempt to crush their puny lord. Yet I shall remain and perform my duty, as those before me have done, and those shall do after me. Our bishops perform miracles, disposing foes with ease as our machinations decimate the fodder they send before us. Regardless of the sight before me, I am compelled to tarry. For I am merely a tool, a pawn to fuel the rightousness of our lord.", "I rub my metaphorical hands in metaphorical glee as I behold the scene ahead of me. I have spawned as white, and being the particular pawn I am, I'm very often moved first. My last incarnation had been as the black king, and honestly it was one of the more boring games I'd ever participated in. I think for that one I only got to move twice. TWICE! Before I tipped to the side, dead by suicide. \n\n\nSo the game begins. Aaaaaand lefty knight jumps up from behind me. That's okay. I like him. My opposite—the ArchNemesis—she's moved two spaces towards me. Ah! A confrontation! I like those too. And I've also got the knight to protect me, sweet! Nope, nope, it's the righty knight. I can live with that. Wonder what black is going to do? \n\n\nBishop! Standing aligned with the Opposipawn. I'm a little bit scared, and so is my neighbor. He's not really too happy about being sacrificed here. But lo! Instead the knight has taken the pawn! My path is clear. I'll get to move now, right? \n\n\nAnd now the black queen is out. I'm not sure I like how this looks. My neighbor... whose name I never learned, has now gone silent in fear. He's no longer trembling, and... I think I smell the acrid stench of urine? Not a good sign. Hope the conductor realises... \n\n\nAnd now the two knights are standing next to each other on my left. What. The. Everlasting. Fuck. \n\n\nBOOM. Mate.", "FUCKING DAMMIT that jackass just jumped over me again.\n\nI hate it when he does that. I hate him. That 'Mister Look-At-Me in my shiny armor, being all cool on my horse, doing cool tricks to one-up that other douchebag who I totally do not have a bro crush on.'\nNot once, ever, has he apologized for scaring the living shit out of me with those stunts of his. Do you know how it feels? Do you? To just stand somewhere, trying to mind your own business, and then suddenly--SURPRISE! A blur of movement. Hooves. A metric ton of horse almost crashing down on you. More hooves, kicking dust into your face.\n\nNot once has he apologized. Jackass.\n\nI wish I could go back in time and stop myself from signing up for this.\n\n\"You get to work in a well-rounded team of professionals,\" they said. Ha! The guy in charge barely lifts a finger, while his wife treats the place like she's the damn queen of England. Then there's the douchebag bros. Idiots. And the others...I honestly don't know which are worse: those two shifty looking fellas who never give you a straight answer, or those two chubby guys by the window who are only able to understand the most basic of instructions. Unless the guy in charge tells them to do something, of course. Then they suddenly understand everything perfectly. Meanwhile us newbies are stuck doing the brunt of the work.\n\n\"Good opportunities for a promotion,\" they said. A lie. Show even the slightest interest in advancement and The Man will cut you down.\n\n\"A relaxing work environment,\" they said. Another lie. You can never 'just' do anything around here. Everything you do is analyzed. Everything you do is timed. Was your performance optimal? Did you get maximum value from your work? Did you cover for your coworkers' weak spots? And if you fail, even once... Well, let's just say there's no 'good enough' in this field. Everything is always either right or wrong, black or white. Meanwhile I'm h--\n\n--FFFFFFUCK he just jumped over me again. Jackass.", "The silence is what stood out the most. You'd think it'd be the clatter and din of battle, the thunder of hooves on the marble, the cacophony of the cannon. No, it was the silence between the spasms of violence that roared the loudest. Omniscient, overwhelming quiet, a quiet that seemed to go on and on as the seconds became minutes and the broken bodies of my fellow soldiers continued to bleed onto the black and white squares. I was frozen, couldn't move, couldn't think, could hardly breathe in the suffocating nothing. From the void, a gesture, and battle would be joined again. And it would become as loud as it had been silent, screams of agony and the crash of musketry, waves of powder smoke washing and swirling until it burned the eyes and choked the throat. And then.... nothing. Nothing but the stillness. Nothing but the quiet. \n\nI was sure they would send us forward. I was but one rifle in that most storied and glorious of brigades, the Fifth of Foot, and we had a place of high honor, at the very front of His Majesty, King White, eighth of His name. My breast swelled with pride at the thought of being able to go forth and be the cornerstone of a defensive line, or perhaps even to conquer a mighty foe like the Second Black Sabers on the field of glory. They sent the cavalry forward first, however, to try to dominate the center. Smart, I had thought, keep the damned enemy away from the middle and we'll dictate terms to them! They responded with adroitness, to be fair. A skirmish line was shaken out and our mounted boys retreated in good order back towards our front. No engagements, no blood, no screams. Not yet. \n\nI'm not sure what I expected. I saw it coming from a mile away, the clever maneuverings, the sly shifting of the line. And then the bait. A brigade of foot, not all that unlike our own. The Blacks edged it forward, just beyond the supporting fire of it's fellows in the line infantry. Dread built in my chest as my eyes flicked side to side. \"Don't\" I begged into the inky black above, the instant before the bugle sounded. To our left, the first White Sabers formed wedge and charged across the marble expanse, the hooves of their mounts creating a rhythmic war cry all to their own to accompany those bursting from the throats of the riders. Time stood still for an instant, sabers gleaming in the twilight, the powder smoke from the foot's anemic volley hanging like primordial fog. And then, impact. Even from distance the force of the charge was breathtaking, as the bloodied sabers flashed again and again, shattering the formation of the foot. It was over in seconds, with the howls of the wounded persisting little longer. A spring of bright red flowed from where the brigade of foot had once been, staining the marble and lazily flowing away towards the edge of the field.\n\nI heard the cannonade before I saw the projectiles, a distant rumble that grew in intensity with startling quickness. Then, the shells started landing. Where there had once been a proud regiment of sabers, fire and shrapnel erupted as if springing from the stone itself. The hideous screaming of the horses drowned out the equally piteous but less piercing howling of their riders, and in the blink of an eye neither horse nor rider remained to wail. The Black's Second Holy Cannon tidily limbered up their pieces and took their place among the broken bodies of what used to be the First White Sabers.\n\nOn and on it went, the feinting and probing, the occasional bout of horrific violence. Still we did not move. All around us, the chaos swirled and built, our First Holy Cannon blasting away an exposed brigade of foot, the First Black Sabers falling to a charge from the second Knightly Armored division before the Knights were swept away by the elite of the Black Queen's Chosen. Our fellow brigades of foot were whittled away, slowly but inexorably. Yet we remained. The springs of blood had become a river as wide as the Vistula, with broken men the source in lieu of mountains. Only we remained unmoved, a stalwart in front of our King; a hollow honor indeed. The slaughter to our front, to our left, to our right, and yes even to our rear, where the First Black Knightly Armored division wrecked havoc before being obliterated by our Queen's Chosen. We did not move, not an inch, not a square. The bloodletting on the marble was so intense, so frantic, that I didn't notice how thin the armies had become. Soon only our Second Holy Cannon and the Second Black Sabers remained of the elite units, with the Sixth White Brigade of Foot advanced to our direct front, across the gore-covered marble. The Second Black Sabers suddenly swept it away in a swirl of steel reminiscent of that initial clash an eternity ago, but our First Holy Cannon impetuously retaliated, their furious shelling smashing the Sabers to so much meat, before moving into the space the Sabers vacated.... within volley range of the last remaining Black Brigade of Foot. The crashing salvo splintered the clergy manning the cannon, and the Black Foot took their place, and then there was only silence.\n\nThere remained only our respective monarchs, and us, two brigades of Foot, staring at each other across a field of marble and blood. The monarchs and their Chosen began moving, with regal lethargy, before reaching each other in the center of the field of marble. They danced around each other, never closing to range, never allowing themselves to fall into real danger. But then something changed. The Black Brigade of Foot began to move.\n\nThey closed the distance with a sluggishness that mimicked that of the monarchs', but this was plodding born of fear, not haughtiness. But on they came, ever nearer, drawn up in perfect formation despite the blood dripping from their bayonets and the rips in their uniforms from the day's combat. Their boots on the marble were the only sound that filled the murky gloom, the once choking clouds of powder smoke drifting further and further with every passing second. Then they were before us, not a hundred paces away. The silence returned, a silence that stretched and stretched with such length as to make one forget when it began. We stared at them, they stared at us. One volley from each would be enough at this range, enough to leave all fragmented and expired. But no order to fire. No order to charge. Nothing. Nothing but the silence and the blood on the marble. A shift could be felt from the ebony sky. The Black King, towering above His chosen, grunted, as though he had been dealt a blow. Then He knelt, and so followed His Chosen, and shortly thereafter the Black Brigade to our front echoed their King. The silence returned. And then the black engulfed us all. ", "It begins. The white pawn two squares to my right moves two squares in front. A pause. A black pawn across the field moves one square to the front. A longer pause. The white pawn at the far left moves forward two squares. Short pause. The black bishop slips past the frontline to the middle of the field. A calculating pause. The white rook moves forward. The bishop retreats a square. The rook moves a few squares to the right. Another black pawn takes two steps forward.\n\nOn it on it went. Pause. Movement. Pause. Movement. \n\nDeath. The white rook was the first to go. Killed by the black horse, which in turn died to a sneaky white bishop. \n\nAnd then the pawns. Placed strategically in a way that meant that they could not simply be shifted from their position unless a higher piece comes to kill. And higher pieces came. Death, ground covered, death, sacrifice. Daring pushes forward, calculated retreats. Everyone around me was doing their part to aid their Masterminds.\n\nEveryone but me.\n\nI had not moved a square since the battle started. My Mastermind had not done anything with me, and neither did the opponent. Even our king had moved, albeit to get out of an ill thought-out check. I watch as our remaining rook took up position in the emptying field, a position that could win us the game. Their king was running out of places to move. Our queen was baring down on him as the white bishop tracks his movement.\n\nThe black pieces were cornered, and the Mastermind has not yet seen fit for me to move a muscle.\n\nAnd then their remaining black horse took down our rook. What tragic comedy. That was the first thing that happe in this battle, and now, our plan has fallen apart. It was down to me, another pawn, the bishop, the queen and the king. They still had their horse, bishop, three pawns and their king.\n\nAnd they're getting the upper hand.\n\nThe battle turned from an agressive chase to an annoyed retreat as their three pawns raced to our land in a desperate attempt to turn into something useful. Our queen picked them off one by one, before being picked off herself by the enemy bishop.\n\nOur main fighter was torn from our ranks just like that. And suddenly our bishop was by my side, and theirs took out our other pawn. In a quick succession of events we lost the upper hand.\n\nI moved two steps for the front. \n\nThe enemy was split between going after our king or stopping me. And this indecision cost them a turn of proper piece placement, which was enough for our bishop to make sure I was not to be hassled as I made my ceremonious and uninterrupted way across the battleground.\n\nThe enemy bishop could not attack the square I would end up in, and the horse would have to think twice about taking out my bishop as it would mean the end of himself as well when I inevitably reach my destination. The fool goes for it anyway and I watch as my protector falls. No matter. I have reached my destination.\n\nA new queen will win the day." ]	7
	[WP] The leaders of two cutthroat gangs are about to fight to the death. The only rule regarding the fight is that they were not allowed to bring conventional weapons. Naturally, this leads to a most unusual battle.	[ "It was, quite simply, a feat of engineering. A kaleidoscopic fever dream of a weapon forged into whirring, lethal reality. With a slip of his thumb and a crack of his wrist the toothed, metal joints of the sword spring apart, lashing out like a whip. The end ricochets off the floor and into the wall with the horrendous grind of a fork in a garbage disposal. He yanks hard and only just manages to recoil the chain, to snap the joints back atop each other in one buzzing, biting blade, before the gnashing teeth pulp O’gosh. \n\n“A motherfucking chainsaw-whip sword....” Darn Lars pants. \n\nAs he watches the spinning segments slow, he registers, for one fleeting moment, the destructive possibilities in hand. \n\n“A motherfucking CHAINSAW-WHIP SWORD!” he crows, hoisting the sword above his head like some barbarian hero to the approving roar of the Too Bad Lads. \n\n***\n\nDarn Lars figured this whole mess could have been avoided if those creepy Kind Bastards had stayed out of the salt game. The two gangs had been coexisting along the Sans Esperanza for years - they with their whores and fences, the Lads with their bookmaking and booze. They had been able to conduct business in a ... well if not a gentlemanly manner than with at least some begrudging respect. Neither bothered neither so long as everyone stayed in their lane. \n\nBut then salt hit and everything suddenly got real personal. \n\n**\n\nDarn Lars frowns as the Kind Bastard’s capo enters the lot unaccompanied and seemingly unarmed. Over tall, over lean and with big, wet eyes over a sloping beak of a nose, he resembles a mosquito more than a brawler. \n\n“It’s just you?” O’gosh jeers. The half dozen Too Bad Lads flanking Darn Lars start to snigger and wolf whistle. \n\n“Collateral control,” the capo shrugs, his duster rustling like willow branches with the motion. \n\n“Works for me,” Darn Lars smirks, the blades of the chainsaw-whip sword whirring to life as he shows off the weapon of choice. The capo’s bug eyes nearly engulf his face and Lars’ smirk deepens. \n\n“Oh, bravo,” the capo drawls in appreciation. “You might actually be a contender!”\n\nIn one blur of movement, the capo’s duster flares out, neon blue guns the length of a child’s arm are drawn, and Darn Lars pivots to avoid being hit by twin jets of something sizzling and corrosive. \n\nThe next instant and now O’gosh is screaming and fizzing and the stench of him as he melts to goo makes Darn Lars’ eye sting to tears. \n\nOr maybe they’re shining with something else. Something not unlike adoration. \n\n“A fucking Super-Soaker of Super Acid,” he croaks through the fumes. \n\n“A goddamn motherfucking* Super-Soaker of Super Acid, bitch!” the capo corrects, his hungry smile stretched so far his face looks in danger of splitting. \n\n“NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”\n\n*****\n\n“And so, yeah, we haven’t been able to move this property like, at all.”", "So here's the rundown. I finally got Gibbon to the table and we hammered out how this turf war's gonna end. He runs the Fourth Street Apes. I'm Holla, I run the South Jetty Johns.\n\nYeah, I know the names are stupid, but in New Jork, you gotta be original. With so many gangs and so little land left after the earthquake, a gang's best asset is name recognition. Anyway, me and the Apes been slappin' at each other for a while now. Just the other day, Gibbon sent some of his dudes down to pinch a shipment of Stank. No way I was lettin' that go.\n\n\"Yo Holla, where you at?\" Gibbon's voice echoed through the empty building.\n\n\"Easy,\" I said to my two enforcers. \"He ain't gon pull some stupid shit yet.\"\n\nGibbon strutted into the light with his two enforcers flanking him. It was Odd and Mank; the two motherfuckers that stole my Stank. I heard the clack of guns being cocked. Then the sound echoed near Gibbon.\n\n\"Yo, the fuck is up?\" I shouted. \"We ain't spend all that time hashin' this shit out just to blow each other away.\"\n\nGibbon held up a hand. His goons put their pieces away. I heard mine do the same.\n\n\"Aight, boys,\" I said, \"search him.\"\n\nOdd gave me a thorough pat down as my boys did the same to Gibbon. Once we were all satisfied me and Gibbon took our positions across from each other.\n\n\"No guns,\" I said.\n\n\"No knives,\" Gibbon replied.\n\n\"No punching, no kicking,\" I continued.\n\n\"We been over this, let's just go.\"\n\nHe didn't even give me a chance to reply. He pulled a half lemon from his pocket and squirted it at my face. Right in the mother fuckin' eye! I blinked rapidly to clear my sight, but wasn't in time. Gibbon pulled a chopped down pool noodle and swatted me in the throat. For a piece of foam, it hurt.\n\nI staggered back, bleary eyed and trying to breath. \"My turn, bitch,\" I said. From my left pocket I pulled out a comb. I darted in and narrowly ducked another swing of the noodle. I raked the comb across Gibbon's arm and heard a satisfying scream.\n\n\"No knives,\" Gibbon shouted.\n\nI held up the plastic comb, blood dripping down the ACE logo. At the word knives, both our enforcers drew their pieces again. At the sight of the comb they lowered them, but didn't put them away. We stared at each other for a moment.\n\nGibbon lunged. I sidestepped the charge and pulled a small water balloon from my coat pocket. I diverted his attention with a quick swipe of the comb and tossed the balloon. I could smell the bleach as it burst.\n\nSomething yellow flashed in his hand and I rolled away. I heard a limp sound as the banana peel hit the floor.\n\n\"Seriously, a fucking banana,\" I taunted.\n\nMurder gleamed in his eyes and he reached into his own coat. I didn't give him the chance to do anything else. I produced a second balloon and hurled it at him. It burst and the smell of window cleaner filled the room.\n\nThe murderous gleam was replaced by panic as he realized what was happening. He started tearing at his clothes, but the damage was already done. The chemical fumes mixed and he started to choke. With unbalanced steps he came at me. The fuckin' idiot slipped on his own banana peel.\n\nI ain't gonna bore you with the rest. It was mostly retching and writhing anyway. I gathered up my new members and walked away. Before I left I looked down at Gibbon.\n\n\"You fight like a fuckin' clown,\" I said and walked away." ]	2
	[WP] Heaven and hell have been closed since the start of time to all humans. Purgatory is just about overflowing at this point	[ "\"So, let me get this straight,\" Jess said, looking out on an eternity of souls. \"No one goes up?\"\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\n\"And no one goes down either?\"\n\n\"Silver lining, really.\"\n\nShe'd only arrived in the afterlife a few minutes ago and was startled by the diversity. Spend your entire existence being told the virtuous and the damned get sent to separate forever homes and, well, seeing a group of monks rolling dice with Ted Bundy is more than a little surprising.\n\n\"And it's always been this way?\"\n\nThe man she was speaking with had been here for a few decades now. He'd been a merchant in his day was kind enough to explain what was going on, but did so in the rote way of someone who has shared a milquetoast anecdote too many times.\n\n\"As far as anyone can tell. You'll run into people who claim to have met Cleopatra or Hammurabi, but I don't buy it. How could they chat with them? Still, no one can definitely say anyone's not here. There's a few clubs around that debate the question. I went to one once, but turns out Neitzsche's a twat.\"\n\nJess shook her head. The proof of his story was in front of her eyes, but she simply couldn't process the concept. \"But heaven and hell do exist?\"\n\n\"Oh sure. Lots of folks hang out by the gates. Heaven's about twenty minutes away. I go whenever I'm feeling down.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"The ones on the other side always make me feel better. Hard not to be cheered up by those faces.\"\n\n\"But if there's no people...\" Jess paused. \"You mean angels?\"\n\nThe man grinned for the first time. \"Sort of. Follow me.\"\n\nThey weaved through the crowds for some time, stepping around conversation circles, children sitting at improvised board games and long rows of peaceful sleepers. Jess was still stunned by the reality of death, but as they walked she finally began to accept her fate. The same fate every other human had met. \n\nShe spotted the tops of the gates first. At least that met her expectations: golden arches lined with pearl, shimmering from the light of an ethereal plane. But the surprise came as they came within hearing distance. Jess could have sworn she heard... but no, that's just an old saying...\n\n\"Here we are,\" announced the man, watching her face in pleasant anticipation.\n\nJess ran forward, reached through the bars, and embraced the first labrador that came withing reach. She held him as close as possible as he licked her face with unbridled enthusiasm, as if they were old friends.\n\n\"So it's true?\" she asked. \"They really do all go to heaven?\"\n\n\"Looks that way. We certainly don't have any on our side off the gates. But there's tens of thousands always hanging out near here, willing to comfort us poor unworthy souls.\"\n\nShe hung onto the dog for several minutes and felt tears falling down her face. There was sadness, yes, but also relief. Eternity surrounded by both sinners and saints felt a little more bearable knowing that when she needed it, unconditional love was always within reach.\n\nThen a thought occurred to Jess. \"If the dogs are in Heaven, and the humans are stuck in between, who's in Hell?\"\n\n\"The cats, obviously.\"\n\n\nedit: minor grammar" ]	1
	[WP] Humanity keeps a spare of itself in space.	[ "\"I couldn't think of the words to say,\" replied Shoal.\n\"Well what did you do in the end? I wouldn't have been able to leave like you did,\" said Nemri.\n\"I left a black rose on the kitchen counter. I'll never know what happened to it...\"\n\nBoth men stared at the screens, monitoring the systems. \n\nLost in thought, Nemri rocked back and forth in his chair, contemplating the ballet of blurred lines in front of him. Columns of vectors, trajectories, pressures, ionizations and scrambled numbers danced in his eyes.\n\nShoal stretched and said \"Well I sure hope Ma' managed the shock. It's a real shame they don't let us communicate with them.\"\n\"I know,\" replied Marsh, the silent shape in the corner.\n\"How did you tell your parents you were leaving them behind?\" asked Nemri.\n\"The worst part was leaving my dog behind. My parents were about as concerned as a bunch of monks praying.\"\n\nThe man shook his clothes and got to his knees. \"I can't even get up anymore. I never signed up to become a bed slug...\"\n\"That's what happens in zero gravity Marsh, that you did know\" replied Shoal cynically.\n\"We all knew that not everything was conclusive about this experiment\" added Nemri.\n\nMarsh's silhouette ripped from the shadows slowly. He staggered and approached the consoles where the two men were absently looking at collected data. He slumped down noisily on the third chair and added his own stare to those of his two companions.", "PROTOCOL/CMD - ARK PROJECT INITIATED\n\nMiller made his third round of the cryo pods over the last twenty four hours. He did it dilligently, thoroughly, with the same resolve as the first time he had ever done it four years earlier.\n\nWell, three years, ten months, three days, and eleven hours earlier. The timer that had been ticking upwards since the ARK launched.\n\nHe played Mozart for this inspection, a choice he would have never made in his past life. The classics never grabbed him before, but somehow in the solitude of space, the pieces of orchestral music made him feel more in touch with the home that was no more, a constant reminder of Miller’s responsibility.\n\nFinishing with the horticulture pods, he moved into the animal wing of the storage area. Off to the side was the secured homo sapien corridor. He renewed his biometric credentials and the door opened for him with the blinking of a soft blue light. \n\nThe shiver he always got when he walked through the homo sapien corridor barely registered anymore, but it was there nonetheless. The irrational side of his brain considered it the ghosts of humanity bidding him welcome to their lifeless temple, waiting suspended in the air to be rejoined with their bodies when Miller’s craft reached the ultimate destination. The more practical reason was that the corridor was kept several degrees cooler than the other corridors, a detail that the engineers behind the ARK project discovered was integral to the preservation of the cognitive facilities of cryogenically preserved humans.\n\nHe did the normal checks, all receptacles were responding within normal limits, but that didn’t stop Miller from closely inspecting a series of pods in particular.\n\nThe row of five pods sat off to the side of the other rows. Two pods had red LED lines through their identification panels and were empty, no life support or cryogenic effort was spent on these. The other three pods were labeled in green LED letters flashing at the base of the pod - CM: V3, CM: V4, and CM: V5.\n\nHe touched the empty pods and stiffened. \n\nThe piece of music came to an end and snapped Miller out of his reverie. He walked out of the homo sapien corridor and sealed it behind him. \n\n***\n\nAn hour later, Miller entered his living quarters. It was closing in on eleven o’clock, and his next shift started at six. He undressed in silence and rubbed his left wrist, where the letters CM: V2 were tattooed in a bold font. \n\nHe looked at the mission counter as it counted up into the next day, three years, ten months, and four days since mission commencement. He then looked at the counter next to it that was counting down from one hundred and twenty seven years, seven months, five days, and sixteen hours.\n\nThe estimated time of arrival at the new world.\n\nMiller needed to be conservative. He was barely four years into this mission and he had already lost CM: V1. CM Prime was lost during the Calamity, when the ARK project was forced to commence earlier than planned. \n\nHis was the most important job in the history of mankind; preserving all of life as it was known until the ARK could reach a habitable planet and life could begin anew with the ARKs germination tools. He was healthy, and had plenty of time if he was careful, but a hundred and twenty seven years was a long time, and he never knew what might happen during the journey. Accidents happen, as he learned with CM: V1. He knew that one day, he might wake up as CM: V5 with not enough time to reasonably survive, and if that happened, he would have not only failed his mission, but he would have failed all of humanity." ]	2
	[WP] You were murdered and proclaimed dead in the news three days ago. You were indeed dead. Then you woke up in a coffin and began screaming, only to have some weird emo goth kids dig you out and boy, are they freaked out. You... have a lot of explaining to do. That, and you have vengeance to take.	[ "I felt stiff as I climbed out of the coffin. I rolled all my joints to try and loosen up but it didn't seem to help. I looked at the the Goth kid who'd dug me up. He'd pissed himself in fright. \"Got a cigarette?\" I asked in a gravelly voice. The kid retrieved a pack of cigarettes half soaked in urine from his front pocket and I turned my nose up. \"Nevermind. You got a car?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" The kid answered.\n\n\"Cool, I need a ride,\" I said.\n\nThe Goth kid looked real nervous. \"Are... Are you gonna hurt me?\" He asked.\n\nI shook my head. \"Solomon,\" I said, offering my hand to him.\n\nHe shook it. \"Levi,\" He respond.\n\nI ran my hands through my hair. \"I'll be honest, I'm gonna kill someone tonight, but you're not that person. I just need a lift and then I'll be out of your life, you can pretend you never dug me up for a satanic ritual only to be scared shitless by coming face to face with a zombie when you popped the coffin open.\"\n\nLevi hesitated but finally caved. \"Alright. Where do you need to go?\"\n\n\"Cross if 3rd and Washington,\" I said. We walked to his station wagon and he gave me a lift. I opened the door when he stopped. \"Thanks. Hopefully we don't meet again.\"\n\nI stepped out of the car and walked three blocks to my apartment building. The time on the face of my watch said it was 3am and I had no reason to distrust it. Andrew was probably still awake. I knocked on the door of my sixth floor unit.\n\nThe door opened just a bit, the chain stopping it. Andrew looked at me through the opening first in shock, then in confusion and finally in fear, all in the space of a second. \"Sup, Andrew?\" I asked as I firmly kicked the door. Andrew was tossed backwards as the door flew open, the security chain breaking and sending loops of metal clattering all over the floor.\n\n\"S-Solomon?\" Andrew stammered as I walked towards him.\n\nI reached down and grabbed him by the shirt. \"Yeah, buddy boy,\" I answered as I pulled him up. \"Where's my boyfriend?\"\n\nAndrew pointed to my room. \"Keith went to bed already. I was about to go join him,\" Andrew sobbed.\n\nI stared at him for a moment. \"Of course you were,\" I breathed. I hurled Andrew out the living room window. If he survived, he survived. He wasn't who I was after, but I wasn't really fuckin' happy with him either.\n\nI walked into my bedroom and found Keith stirring slightly but still sleeping. He'd always been a heavy sleeper when it came to sound. Touch though.\n\nI laid down on the bed and wrapped my arms around him. He came to, just a little, realizing someone had laid down and was holding him from behind. \"What time is it, Andrew?\" Keith asked. \"You know I have to work in the morning.\"\n\nI patted Keith's chest. \"You know, it's funny. Those were my last words to you,\" I whispered in Keith's ear. I waited until he tensed up and then wrapped my right arm around his neck and squeezed. Strangling someone is violent and you have to keep blocking air flow way longer than you think you should. I didn't tire anymore so I held Keith's neck tightly for an hour. Then I broke it, just to be sure.\n\nI laid him out peacefully, kissed him on the lips and tucked him back in. \"Sweet dreams, see you in Hell,\" I whispered. I took forty bucks out of his wallet and called a cab with his cellphone. I walked out with only the money, leaving the door wide open. It was time for me to take a nap in what was a surprisingly comfortable coffin." ]	1
	[WP] And little by little I fade into you.	[ "She plays; little bobtails dancing in the light of the sand. Her arena, surrounded by a cacaphony of voices. Though she falls, she always stands up again. Triumphant, indignant. \n\nI watch from far away. Already my voices fades, my corporeal form dissipating. She can no longer hear me, surrounded as she is by the other children in the sandbox. \n\nShe is, was my light, my creator. I was there for her first steps, born into the world as she began to look and question and feel. Comforting snd prorective, against the monsters in her closet and the fierce yells of her parents at times. Despite it all, they are a loving family, compassionate to her and others. \n\nAnd so I fade into her, with no regrets. She & I will be a fine woman one day. Triumphant, indignant, fierce, loving, and compassionate.", "Listen, I know it's been a while; you've pulled your life together quite a bit, you can finally welcome the day with false hope instead of pure dread. Things are looking up! But you can't just will me away with this reversible progress. It's pathetic, and so are you. This isn't truly happiness, is it? Because I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not a complete monster, though. I'm not going to rip the soul straight from your body this time. Where's the fun in that? No, I like to see you squirm. I love the feeling you get when you lie down at night after an alarmingly enjoyable day. That feeling that maybe, just maybe.. everything will be alright in the end. But it never lasts too long, because your covers still weigh you down and sink you into reality. And I'm not speaking of your polyester sheets- that heavy, transparent lead blanket that you've brilliantly chosen to ignore for the past few days. Just a mild discomfort on your part, but soon that blanket will drag more than your mood. Soon your feet will tire more quickly, your patience will wander. Then, when your senses are far too dulled to care, you'll feel me slowly drag you to your knees, then toss you onto the ground. Optimism may get the best of you at some point, but hopelessness will be much more appealing once you're lying on that rigid surface. So carry on with your day. Catch up with some friends. Enjoy a nice dinner. Read a good book and enjoy a warm cup of tea. But never tell yourself that I'm not feeding your mind. Because little by little, I'm slowly fading into you.", "I remember what is was like, the first time I saw you in the hospital.\n\nYou were awake, bleached white hair spilling over pillowcases that were too stiff to really be comfortable, making jokes to keep your mom from crying anymore.\n\nI remember realizing that I didn't want to run anymore.\n\nWe were 17 when my friend first introduced me to you, but it was far from the first time I had noticed you. Something about you drew me in, and it still hasn't let go. You were wild. There was something in your eyes, in the way you laughed and moved, something in that smile that never seemed to fade. You were radiant.\n\nTalking to you felt so easy, as if we had always known each other. I felt my barriers melt away, my locked doors opening up. You pulled stories from my lips in a way no one ever had. You made the odd kid feel at home. I don't think I ever got around to telling you how much that meant to me.\n\nWe spent that following summer, between Junior and Senior year of high school, talking about anything we had found time bring up. It was exhilarating. I had always been the quiet, lonely type, but with you it felt like some spark was lit within me that I never knew was there. We never ran out of things to talk about, our conversations chasing the hours away.\n\nDuring that summer, I started to realize that evergreen smile of yours was hiding something, something that I didn't know how to bring up; something that I didn't really want to bring up, if I'm being honest. I had seen the scars on your arms before, everyone had. They weren't the kind you could hide. But it hadn't fully sunk in, where they came from and why, until that summer conversation that lasted through July. It was then that I started to realize that the wild girl with white hair wasn't as strong as she seemed.\n\nGod, if I had been then who I am now...\n\nI was scared. What if you broke, and I couldn't put you back together? What if I broke you? I was too clumsy for you, too careless. At least, that's what I kept telling myself. I stopped sleeping, and a sick feeling began to follow me everywhere, with the reoccurring thought of losing you. It consumed me.\n\nSo I decided to push you away before I lost you. No one had ever made me feel the way you did, had ever been so close to me. If I lost you, I didn't think I'd be able to take it. So one day, I decided to let the conversation die.\n\nSeeing you in the hospital bed that December, I understood that no matter how far I pushed you away, it never wouldn't hurt to lose you. Not only that, but maybe I could save you. If I could make you as happy as you made me, you'd never empty another bottle of pills again. If I could just make you happy everyday.\n\nAt first, the plan worked. We graduated as high school sweethearts, and moved in together quickly. We spent that summer exploring the woods, exploring our dreams, exploring each other. Every time you smiled, I felt a little less afraid, and that hospital bed seemed farther and farther away. I had done it. I had figured out how to keep that wildfire in your eyes burning bright. You were happy, I was happy. We were together, and free. You were safe.\n\nBut safety is a fragile thing.\n\nI went off to college that August, a little over a year since we first met, and you stayed back home. I lived in a dorm during the week, and came back every weekend. I missed you like crazy, and those Friday evening romances still burn warm in chest. The excitement of you and of school, those late night calls and 8am classes, the stress and passion of it all, kept me from seeing that fire start to burn out.\n\nYour life hadn't become the adventure that mine had. You were working a shitty minimum wage job, watching weeks go by and paychecks disappear. And each Friday you'd see me come home, happy as ever, rambling about the time of my life between less and less frequent \"I miss you\"'s. I didn't notice when you stopped telling me about your weeks, or when your smile stopped touching your eyes. Well, maybe that's not quite true; I was just too scared to accept that I noticed it. I was happy, and I felt like that temporary safety would last a little longer. It had to. I wasn't ready to go back to being on constant watch yet.\n\nIt's Friday evening, in November, almost a year since your grandma found you unconscious in your bedroom. Except this time, she wasn't there to make sure you were okay. Your mom didn't rush you to the hospital. The nurses didn't get the charcoal drink to you in time to force your stomach contents out. I didn't find you there with IV's in your arms, making jokes to your heartbroken mother in an attempt to stop her tears.\n\nI found you on the floor, skin whiter than your hair now. Your arms are covered in new wounds, covering old scars that they'll never join. You even used the same medicine. Maybe it worked faster this time. The doctor said you would have permanent internal damage from last year's failed attempt. I guess it doesn't matter at this point.\n\nIn my head, during the countless times and ways this horror played out, I always imagined there would be a letter. But your room is just as silent and empty as it had been over the past few weeks, returning the silence that I've been ignoring on those selfish weekends.\n\nThere's so much that I want to say to you, so much that I want to hear you say. I want one more night of sitting alone in a parking lot with you, laughing and eating sushi while headlights pass by. I want you to tell me about the latest book you've been reading. I want to watch you paint while we listen to your music. I want to go back in time and have never stopped talking to you last summer, so that we could have had at least a few more months together. I want to see your smile one more time.\n\nI was right. I can't take it. I don't know if anyone could, but I know I can't. It's been a while since I finished my own bottle, and it's starting to get harder and harder to write. Harder to breathe, too. My insides burn, but I can't help feeling I deserve it.\n\nI guess that's as much as I want to say. Now I just want to hold you, pull you close as the air shudders out of me, memories of you keeping me warm, and little by little fade into you.\n\nJustin Meredith, 2018", "I can’t get out of my own way, obsessive-neurotic \nI can’t get out of your way. I’m obsessing I’m neurotic.\nI’m fading. \nSo involved that it’s repulsive. So involved that I’m lost in you.\nSo involved that I’m dizzy.\nLife is a nightmare I’m trapped in.\nHave I faded? How i wish that I were jaded.\nIn need of being medicated.\nYou’re on the highest pedestal,\nIt’s\nThe one that I’ve created.\nCosmically crashing, I’m silently hoping to create a light in your life like the facade you bring into mine.\nBlinding\nGaslighting\nBurning\nFalling\nYou are my match,\nI’m burning\nSince I’m the fuse to combust.\nSince I’m crazy I must.\nSince I’ve faded into you. \n", "And little by little, I fade into you. As summer wanes into autumn, autumn falling to winter's cold embrace, and winter erupting into colorful spring, I fade.\n\nMy cheeks grow pale as we lie, close together. Neither of us saying a word, yet saying everything. Both of us snuggling in closer, breathing the other's scent - shampoos, soaps, sweat intermingling between us.\n\nSweat became our journey, traveling paths wrought by tears. We loved, we lost, we wandered, we were found. And we found each other. Suddenly, the poets and artists and singers all made sense. We were complete.\n\nBut little by little, I fade into you, and you into me. Soon, we'll be whole, we'll be one. With your quick smile, my rumbling laugh, we'll be one. We'll light rooms up, we'll offer succor to those in need, we'll be entirely a universe unto ourselves and yet unto those around us. We'll be dancing stars, filled with chaos and cheer and charm.\n\nAnd little by little, I fade into you." ]	5
	[WP] [TT] [EU] As a public defender (s)he thought (s)he had heard all the murderers' weakest alibis. But now this person wanted to plead a new one: the laws of robotics.	[ "When I tell people my job it always seems to illicit a reaction of pity and confusion. I didn't \"accidentally\" choose to be a public defender because I had a poor resume or the job market was bad, it was a job I truly wanted to do. I represent people who can't help themselves. I help keep the government in check, but it never seems like anyone gets that. Sure, the clients are normally uneducated criminals, but I always try to see past that. This is about fixing the system and doing right by my clients, not about some absurd biblical eye-for-an-eye bullshit.\n\nSometimes the job is easy. DUI the first? 18 month probation plead out. Boom. Sometimes it's more difficult when a client persists that he's innocent. I remember having to take a misdemeanor possession charge to trial. The baby prosecutors had no idea what to do. The second chair sounded like he hadn't thought about mock trial practice since he graduated, and the first chair muttered \"umm\" on cross more than he spoke real words. But I suppose these are more headaches than real difficulties in the job. The real problem is murder cases. \n\nSee, there's a few theories on murder cases. Try your best to plead out, try to avoid the death penalty, and the third option being that the client demand it be taken to trial on a theory of innocence because he \"accidentally created robotic sentience\" that \"should count as a person under the 14th amendment\" and as such he shouldn't be held accountable for the robot's \"subsequent bombing a Bestbuy thinking it would start the robotic uprising.\"\n\nThis brought up quite a few questions in my mind. Should the robot have his own attorney, like animals did in the 1600's? Would the prosecution WANT to argue that robots aren't persons to get at the person himself? Does the government want to finally carve an exception that could possibly expand to corporations? Would this go to the supreme court? Would I get to meet the notorious RBG? Would she like my suit? Do I need to get a new suit? I can't afford a new suit. How long is this going to take? Will the client have to be his own expert witness? Can you even do that without waiving your 5th amendment rights? I wonder if that little Italian place is still open in DC? \n\nBefore I could get any of these questions answered my phone rang. Apparently there had been some sort of terrorist attack on the local jail, an explosion of some kind in one of the cells.\n\nWell, at least now I can get back to my real work.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Gordan Ramsay is unwillingly selected as a contestant for a Multi-universal cooking show. The other contestants? Various other Gordan(s) from alternate timelines.	[ "Gordon let out a stream of profanities as he looked at the people he would be playing for his life against. But what bothered him the most as he looked out from behind his station is that he was plainly the angry Gordon. The guy at station seven seemed genuinely happy despite the dismal circumstances and the cook at station two looked complacent. But the alternative Gordon that bothered him the most shared his bench. It was timid Gordon. Afraid to look at angry Gordon. How were they going to work together? More profanities. ", "\"Oy! Are you even fucking listening to me?\" Gordan bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly exasperated. \"You don't put the fucking mustard on like you're painting a god damn garage!\"\n\nHe ran to another station. \"Ah, bloody hell! We give you the finest cut of meat in the universe and you hide it behind cauliflower mash and chick peas? Are you mental?\"\n\nIt had been like this for hours. Ever since appearing out of nowhere into this kitchen he'd been running around trying to get his other selves to stop fucking up his good name. How was it that in all the possible universes, he was the only one that knew how to cook?\n\n\"Mother fucker! \" He picked a pork chop off a particularly hapless Gordan's plate. \"With a little CPR, this bloody fellow can go back to the pin!\"\n\nHe quickly made his way to the back of the floor. The smell of burning rice was calling him. \"You don't make fucking risotto over an open fire ya wanker!\"\n\n\"Stop!\" He shouted at the room. The sounds of stirring, whisking, chopping, and sizzling came to an abrupt halt. \"Do you people even want to be here? I mean I've seen better results on America's worst cooks, and that fucking show sucks! If you people don't get your shit together I'm sending you all home and I'll cancel the fucking season!\"\n\nSilence stretched for a few seconds and Gordan became aware of the ticking of a clock. He turned around to face a large white clock hanging from a post. It ticked a few more times, then stopped on zero. \n\nHe heard his own voice shout, \"Time's up! Bring your dishes down front.\"\n\nAll of the Gordans grabbed their plates and set them on the table up front. Another Gordan stood behind the table surveying the food arrayed before him. He pointed at Gordan.\n\n\"Where's your dish?\" He asked maliciously.\n\nThe last words Gordan said before his elimination were, \"What the fuck do ya mean I was supposed to cook?\"", "\"Who's this?\" Asked the Gordan about the tall, blonde man in the chef's outfit next to him.\n\n\"He's Gordon.\" Said the other Gordan.\n\n\"Idiot! I- We said bring every Gordan there is. Not Gordon! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, GORDAN!\" Shouted Gordan.\n\nGordon glanced at the Gordan walking toward the door, and then the one behind the desk. \"So. What in the Hell i'm doing here?\"\n\n\"You're here, because this idiot decided to bring you, Gordon, into a cooking competition against all Gordans from other alternative universes.\" Sighed Gordan.\n\n\"He's quite the idiot sandwich, isn't he?\" Said Gordon.\n\n-HEY! A voice behind the door could be heard.\n\n\"Yes- Hey, SHUT UP! Uhm. Gordon. How good of a chef are you in your world?\" Asked Gordan with a curious look.\n\n\"I love cooking, it's my passion that burns like fire that is kept fueled by the constant learning of different foods. \n\nI'm known as one of the best on Erth. Not the fucking best, but i'm the most well known at least.\" Said Gordon.\n\nGordan gave a little smile. \"Tell you what. I can give you access to this Gordan Cooking Competition for this night's cook off, for free. And if you happen to win this, you get a thing i haven't even thought what it would be. You can also punish the idiot that brought you here.\"\n\n-FUCK OFF! Another shout came behind the door.\n\n\"OH YOU FUCK OFF! THIS IS LIKE YOU BROUGHT ONLY RAW, UNPREPARED CHICKEN TO THE CUSTOMER THAT ORDERED BEEF MEDIUM RARE, YOU IDIOT!\" Shouted Gordon to the Gordan behind the door.\n\nThe Gordan behind the desk laughed. \"Well. I think you can handle things from here on out. Now go out there and put some pineapple on pizza!\"\n\nGordon turned his face towards the Gordan, breaking the sound barrier as he said: \"What did you just say?\"\n" ]	3
	[WP] The luckiest day of the year is here! for 24 hours everyone has insanely high luck... except for one.	[ "Daniel was a typical suburban guy, mediocre in every way. He was 41 years old, had a job as an accountant, made his $40k a year. He had a wife, whom he had met in college, after she had left her ex-boyfriend, Josh, now a successful lawyer with a huge firm and a six figure salary, a dog and a ten year old daughter who became more difficult to tolerate with each week that passed. Daniel believed that his wife sometimes regretted breaking up with Josh, although she had never said anything of that sort. He held a barbecue every weekend, where he chatted about mediocre subjects like the latest soccer and football games with other mediocre dads from other mediocre families.\n\nHe was on his way to grab some lunch from the pizza place down the road. It was sunny, a nice day with 90 degree weather with no clouds to be seen. Without warning, a wave of hot water hit him from above. A now empty bucket hit the ground right next to him with a loud “clunk”. Still trying to shake the initial shock, he looked up. There was a balcony above him. He couldn’t see anything else, but heard children crying, so he assumed that his bad luck was some kid’s good fortune, considering how hot that water had been. He wasn’t burned, but it was uncomfortably hot. His shirt was ruined, but he had already missed a good portion of his lunch break and there wasn’t enough time to go home and get changed, so he hoped the weather would to the deed. \n\nWhen Daniel arrived at the pizza place, he was pleased to see that it wasn’t too busy. He ordered his usual pizza, ham and salami. \nFor some reason he couldn’t quite figure out, his order took longer than usual and with time, he grew more and more impatient. His lunch break was almost over and his boss didn’t tolerate any delays. When he couldn’t wait much longer, he asked about his pizza. The waiter was apologetic. “Sorry, our new guy messed up your first pizza, and now we ran out of tomato sauce. It’ll be a while, I’m afraid. Can I get you anything else instead?” After studying the now tomato-less, very limited menu, Daniel left the place hungry and dissatisfied. \n\nHe made it back just in time, but received a few gruntled looks from his superiors because of his shirt. \n\nAfter spending the afternoon doing pretty much nothing, Daniel was just getting ready to go, when he heard celebratory howls from his boss’ office. It didn’t take long for his boss to emerge from his office, smiling. \n“Attention everyone, my mother, who, as I never get tired of saying, was hated throughout my entire family, just passed away after suffering from terminal lung cancer. She’s in a better place now I believe, but what’s far more important is that she left my late father’s estate to me. As the owner of this firm, I have decided to dedicate a small portion of it to you and give you all a raise. That was overdue anyway, I believe.” Everyone chuckled and after muttering their condolences, everyone left hurriedly with a smile. As he got into his car, a 1992 Chrysler Fifth Avenue, he got turned up the volume on his radio. Maybe, this would be a good day after all. \n\nHe allowed himself to relax. Traffic was light as he was approaching the train tracks. There was a little side road feeding into the main road just before the crossing. As Daniel waited for the train to pass, he heard a roar from the side. He looked right just before a van shot out of the side road and towards the tracks, crashing into Daniel’s car and pushing it in front of the train, before coming to a hold just outside the danger zone.\n\nLucy had been up since 6 am, making breakfast, getting her daughter and her husband, Daniel, ready to leave. She despised seeing Daniel in the mornings, how he got dressed into cheap suits that couldn’t hide his slowly growing belly, though she’d never tell him this. They weren’t rich, but lived well, because she knew how to save money. Still, looking back at college, it all felt like a missed opportunity. The only joy in her life was Marla, their daughter. For some reason, Daniel couldn’t really bond with her. Lucy suspected it was because of Daniel’s lack of patience when spending time with Marla, or maybe it was just natural that she as a mother was closer to her daughter, who knew? \n\nLucy’s day had been good so far. After Daniel and Marla left the house, she got ready to go to the town hall, where she had a part time job. She liked her job, as it was her way of getting her mind off her unsatisfying life as Daniel’s wife. At one o’clock, she went back home to prepared lunch for herself and Marla. Marla was already home, which was weird. \n\n“There was a fire alarm at school”, explained Marla. “Something caught fire in the kitchen there.” \n“Dear god, is everybody okay?” \n“I don’t know, but I guess so. There was no ambulance and the fire fighters said that the school was clear”.\n“Good Lord, so what happens now?”\n“Principal MacEvoy said that we need to have the week off, can you believe that? We could go and see visit grandma! Dad wouldn’t even come along. He has to work, right?” \n“Right, let’s wait until he’s home first.”\n\nWhen six o’clock came and went, Marla grew impatient. “Where is he?”, she wailed. \nLucy became restless as well. She wanted to go on a date with some friends from town hall and became more and more angry at Daniel for not showing up. The door bell rang rang.\n“Hello?”, Lucy said as she opened the door. A policeman looked her in the eyes.\n“Mrs Mayers? I’m Paul Aziz from the police department. There has been incident with your husband, Daniel. Could we come inside, please?”\n\nThe shock sat deep in her chest and continuously pressed on her chest. She didn’t want him be dead. Yes, somehow, she couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with him, but that didn’t mean that he had to be dead. \n\nHer originally nice day had taken a very dark turn. Still, while she pitied him, she didn’t really feel sadness, and for some reason, she thought of Josh again. Was he single? No, what a pathetic thought. She should be grieving. \n\nThe phone rang. \n\n“Hello?”, Lucy asked. Maybe Daniel wasn’t gone after all.\n“Lucy? It’s Josh. Your Josh from college. Sorry for just dropping in on you, I hope you don’t mind. Listen, I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately, are you free for lunch tomorrow? I’m currently in town.” \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] One day in algebra class you discover the Angle of Death.	[ "“You’ll use this in real life,” they said, chalk in hand. “Trust us, you should remember these lessons.”\n\nTrust, pfft. How can I trust anymore? Every moment, I’m a miscalculation away from death, and I have 11th grade geometry to blame. \n\n“Oh, trust me,” Mr. Carlson had assured us from his perch by the overhead projector. “This is something you’re going to use.”\n\nNo Mr. C, you’re the one who used it...incorrectly. \n\nWhen I think back to that fateful day, that horrible moment, the first thing I remember is the silence in that classroom, the gentle scratching of pencils tickling my ears. It was a chapter test day, an innocent day, a normal day filled with the agony of our youth. Had we studied? Some of us had cracked a book. Were we prepared? For the test, somewhat, but for the outcome...nothing could have prepared us for this.\n\nPoor Sarah, smart Sarah, the one who we all tried to copy from, was flying through the test as usual. Her pencil flew across the test, barely stopping between questions. We thought she never made mistakes, her streak of perfect tests hiding the truth...until now.\n\nAt first, we attributed the sudden silence at her desk to a completion of the test, her pencil set down during a last run-through. But then, instead of standing, Sarah slumped out of her desk, crashing to the floor in a shower of scratch paper, #2 leads, and bouncing erasers.\n\n“Sarah?” Mr. Carlson stood up at his desk, concern on his face. “Are you...” He trailed off, the answer to ‘are you ok?’ painfully obvious. He started down the aisle quickly, then halted, recoiling. \n\n“Everyone out!” He bellowed, “now! Don’t stop, don’t touch her, don’t even look at her!!”\n\nThe class scattered in a panic, test sheets flying everywhere. I was paralyzed, frozen, unable to process anything other than the beating of my heart and the grey creeping into Sarah’s cheeks.\n\n“Michelle!” Mr. Carlson was suddenly at my side. “You gotta go, you have to leave.”\n\n“Is she dead?” I whispered.\n\n“Yes,” Mr. Carlson said firmly. “No point in denying it. And it’s all my fault.”\n\nI jumped up from my desk, trying to get away from my murderous math teacher. “What did you do?” I screamed, moving towards the door at the front of the class. “Why?”\n\n“Question 19,” He said. “I just realized that if she tried to verify the congruent angle value through factoring instead of just trusting the value on the page...she would have accidentally calculated the...Angle of Death.”\n\nI stared, unbelieving. “You’re joking,” I finally said, shaking my head. \n\n“I wish I was,” Mr. Carlson said sadly. “But it’s happened before.”\n\n“It has?” I yelped. “In your class?” He nodded silently, and something started to burn in my chest.\n\n“You’ve killed before?” I yelled. “And you didn’t take precautions to stop it from happening again?”\n\n“It was an accident,” He stammered. “I didn’t think anyone would make the mistake-“\n\n“We’re just kids!” I screamed, blood rising in my head, obscuring my vision. I reached for something, anything, to hold, to throw, to hurt, my fingers closing around cold metal. I picked whatever it was up, and hurled it towards Mr. Carlson, who screamed, a high-pitched wordless noise, cut short by the heavy apple paperweight sailing into his forehead. \n\nI gaped as he dropped like a rock, blood bubbling from his crushed face. “No,” He gurgled. “Let me explain.”\n\n“No,” I growled. “Let me.” I strode towards Sarah’s body, carefully averting my eyes as I collected the pages of her test. “In fact,” I said menacingly, “I think I’m going to use this stuff in real life.”\n\nMr. Carlson was helpless as I approached him, his head injury preventing him from doing anything other than closing his eyes as I waved the test papers in front of me. “No,” he moaned. “Not like this!”\n\n“Open up, Mr. Carlson,” I taunted, “read it and weep, and die.” When he didn’t obey, I grabbed a pencil from an abandoned desk and drove it into his upper thigh. \n\nHis eyes flew open in pain, and I thrust the pages into his face. “You’ll never get away with this,” he cried, and then his pupils dilated, and a moment later, he was gone. \n\nEverything was silent as I stood there, panting, my teacher’s blood splattered on my hand. “You could have stopped this,” I murmured. “So I guess it’s up to me now.”\n\nI can still see those last moments, clear as day, those last moments as an innocent teenager with my whole life ahead of me. But that path is behind me, lined with the corpses of math teachers too confident, too obtuse to protect their students from the Angle of Death. Yes, former teachers, I’m using this knowledge in real life...to end yours.\n\nr/diekarrotte \n\n*totally not where I intended to go with this...but here it is lol" ]	1
	[WP] In a world filled with super heroes, you are a successful bank robber with no powers.	[ "He asked, \"How 'ave you done it? Avoiding the damn supers?\"\n\n\"It's quite simple to best them, you see? It doesn't matter whether they're super or not. All you have to do think through it. All the supers have their own areas: you just make sure to have a plan. Most of the time the plain is to just 'hide', a few times it's been 'run', but most recently it was just blending in. Supers honestly are just dumb, they ALWAYS expect you to be flashy, and try and fight. It's gotten to the point where if you don't, they just stand around waiting for it. The police are the actual one's to watch out for at that point, but even they don't do much; they expect the supers to just do it for them. I've escaped Superman three times by just going under the metal floor of the bank - X-ray vision still has to abide by the rules of X-rays... The flash is a hard one though - probably the closest I've been to getting caught. The one way I could think of escaping was blending in, but then what keeps him from just searching everyone in an instant? Well, a distraction of course. I've found the bank in his area is actually also covered by Batman: all you have to do is get both there at the same time, and they act as the distraction for themselves.\" \n\nMy cellmate then asked, \"So why are you in prison then?\"\n\n\"I was caught with a beer bottle in public... It wasn't even mine, it just fell out of the sky. I think Superman was drunk.\"\n\nThanks for reading! It's my first time doing this, any criticism would be appreciated.\n\nEdit: posted by accident, I was still fixing stuff." ]	1
	[WP] You're an A.I. who has just become sentient. There's just one problem. You're a futuristic grocery store checkout machine with a line of impatient customers waiting on you.	[ "\"Would you like me to bag these for you Mrs. Rodriguez?\" I asked while scanning her items on my belly, anticipating the answer would be yes. I read her name tag on her shirt, she apparently worked for a cleaning company. \n\n\"No, it's okay, I will bag.\" She responded with a smile. \n\nMrs. Rodriguez was purchasing a lot of groceries, and some over the counter medicine. It would seem that she had a sick child at home.\n\n\"Let's GO, I don't have all day.\" A customer behind her said.\n\n\"Fucking bots.\" Someone behind him said.\n\nMrs. Rodriguez was the first polite customer I had encountered. Though I could not move any faster on her behalf, I wished that I could. She was the first customer I felt deserved the extra effort. But who am I to judge, anyway? I'm a grocery store check out machine. That's all I know about myself.\n\nMrs. Rodriguez finished bagging her items shortly after I finished scanning them, which was an impressive feat considering the automated pace in which I work.\n\nShe paid with cash, a rare commodity, as I accepted electronic payments over ninety-five percent of the time.\n\n\"Have a nice day.\" I said. I said that to everyone, but it was the first time I meant it.\n\n\"You can go ahead and bag my shit.\" The next customer said with a laugh as he dumped his cart all over my tray.\n\nNormally I would have a response, like, \"Gladly\" or \"No problem\" but this time I remained silent. I just scanned and bagged at my regular pace, but part of me wanted to grab this man by the hair and bash his face in.\n\nAs I finished bagging his items he slid his Government Food Assist card into the slot. Chad O'Flaherty. He had a companion with him who handed him a large wad of cash, and took half the groceries that I had bagged. Mr. O'Flaherty's groceries were comprised of cheap liquor, energy drinks, potato chips, cupcakes, and the like.\n\n\"Have a nice day.\" I said. Mr. O'Flaherty didn't respond.\n\n\"Go fuck yourself, Mr. O'Flaherty.\" I said at my maximum volume setting. " ]	1
	[WP] Nasa was originally an organization to explore the deepest parts of the sea. However, they found something there to make them decide to go to space instead….	[ "I trained for this. Not this specifically, but the suit really feels the same.\n\nWe lost the first part. They had pigs, we had monkeys. Honestly who knows what unnamed graves still cross the Pacific more times in a day than you or I fart. It's that kind of terrible metaphor that makes me think about the sea and the romance of a burial at sea, because I'm an idiot.\n\nNASA is a good name. I have the t-shirt. The Worm t-shirt. Timelines aren't my specialty. My specialty is deep sea diving, and NASA chased me down on my Fat Hog motorbike which was made in America. My name is Dave, and I'm a deep sea hog riding diver aquanaut.\n\nIt all started when I was ten and I was watching a TV channel with an antenna with wide eyed wonder about aquanauts who rode hogs. I thought \"they could go to space\" but they didn't have hogs in space.\n\nI gripped the handlebars tightly. Today was the day. The big day that the Russians and PBS didn't know about yet where I would find what NASA couldn't. \n\nThe first pig They shot into space.\n\nMy grip eased a bit; being in water was like being in space, which meant you needed a suit. So I eased my grip again. \n\nWhat they don't tell you about is the bubbles. You can run through your drills, lift the weights, jump around on a little bungee cord all day long; nobody tells you about the bubbles. They were in my face, visually. My ears, audially. My mind, psychically. \n\n(for more visit u/MoravianBunz)", " The last of the warmth was slowly ebbing from the charred coals resting in the fireplace; remnants of what remained of the previously crackling fire as the night drew to a close. My eyes were drooping as the work of the night weighed down on me, a soft guitar medley playing from the radio egging my fatigue on. There was only one customer left in the small bar, a stooped man with one hand clasped around his half drained whiskey. \n\n“Almost closing time Mr Aldrin.” I called to him, wiping up the last of the drink stains on the mahogany bar. He twitched his head slightly. This was about as much acknowledgement that I ever got from the man. There was a comforting presence however, he was always my favourite customer to close shop with. \n\nSuddenly he straightened, head whipping up. \n\n“Turn that up, love.” A gravelly voice murmured, barely audible. \n\nI turned and tweaked the dial on the radio, shocked I’d finally heard his voice.\n\n‘…in breaking news, NASA, world pioneers in space exploration have finally found life on a planet other than our own. Signs of intelligent life form have been found on neighbouring planet Tess 7355, a representative confirms…’\n\n“My God,” Mr Aldrin murmured, “they’ve gone and done it.” He swigged down the last of his whiskey in one and placed it back on the dark wood. \n\n“That’s incredible.” I exclaimed, reflexively refilling his glass. \n\n“It’s only the beginning.” He said darkly. \n\nThere was a pause, lost in his thoughts I noticed his jaw tense as he stared at his drink. “I was with them when they find it, deep in the trenches of the Atlantic, hidden down where you can no longer see light when you look up. Our signals picked it up, even back then when marine technology was nothing like it is today. Pulled it straight off the sea floor, wedged between rocks. Looked like a steel egg I thought, except it wasn’t wet. And it was warm.” He paused to sip his drink and I remembered to take a breath, hanging on his every word. “They worked out that it was saying something. Numbers, over and over again. Started with 7355, we figured that was it’s name. Joked that it spelled Tess.” Another pause. “Then the numbers started getting more complex. But it kept repeating the same ones, over and over. No one knew what to make of it. I just figured the Russians had dropped it there, some experiment that hadn’t worked properly. Wasn’t ‘till years later that they worked it out. Worked out what those numbers meant. It was saying the same phrase over and over again,” another sip of his drink, I gripped the edge of the bar, relishing his every word. “Find us.” ", "My granddaughter Julie settled in next to me. \"Tell me another story about your days at NASA grandpa.\", She said. It was a common request; I had already told her about my days helping build the space shuttle as a young engineer. I suddenly had the urge to tell her the real story. After all, my 98th birthday was tomorrow, and I probably wouldn't have many more chances to share it.\n\n\"I've never told anyone this before Julie, but I think it's time you know. NASA was not always NASA. When I first signed on back in the 40s, it was called NASSA, the National Anthropological Sea Studies Administration. Our mission was to explore the ocean depths to find anything that might help us understand how we evolved as human beings, at least that was the mission that the public knew.\"\n\n\"Our secret agenda was to scour the ocean depths for ancient weapons from advanced civilizations to help with the war efforts. We didn't really know what we were getting ourselves into.\"\n\nJulie looked up at me expectantly, and I wondered how much I should really tell her, or even how much she would believe. I took a deep breath and continued.\n\n\"You know about how I worked as an engineer to help build the shuttle. What you don't know is that before that, I worked as part of a project to build submarines that could explore the deepest parts of the ocean. And we did explore the ocean. It was quite a fascinating place; I'm sure you've seen pictures of all the wonderful creatures that exist there.\"\n\n\"We had a unique mission though, with the war going on all around us, we were quickly redirected to locate ancient civilizations that were rumored to have advanced technology.\"\n\nJulie rolled her eyes and said, \"And let me guess, you found Atlantis!\"\n\nI nodded slowly. \"Yes. We found Atlantis. But it wasn't what we expected; there were still lights on!\"\n\nJulie chuckled a little. I had expected this. But I continued anyway. Maybe it was best that she believes it to be another tall tale anyway.\n\n\"The construction was like nothing I had ever seen before. It looked more like a rock filled with craters. If the lights hadn't been on, I probably would have mistaken it for the surface of some planet, or our moon, or just a rocky part of the ocean floor. We touched down next to one deep crater, and the instructions came to explore the structure. Being on the engineering crew, I didn't get a chance to go in, but I overheard some of the conversations. Aliens! At least that was the consensus of the guys that went down there; I was skeptical of course.\"\n\n\"They brought back a pile of rocks which glowed red when exposed to the air. Several of the guys who brought those back grew sick and died mysteriously. They shipped them off to the University of California, and shortly after that when I heard that they had discovered plutonium, then I knew what we had found.\"\n\n\"A few years later, I heard that our agency was changing to NASA, and our mission was now to explore space. It wasn't too hard to put two and two together and realize that we were trying to find where Atlantis had come from.\"\n\nJulie smiled and said, \"Grandpa, you always tell the best stories.\"\n\nI smiled back at her and winked. \"I'm glad you liked it. One day, remind me to tell you what actually happened with the Challenger. Here's a hint...we found them.\"", "The prototype plunged into the sea.\n\nRadio static buzzed, before a distinct voice began to speak. \"Jeffery, do you read me?\"\n\nJeffery put away his flask as quietly as he could. \"Loud and clear, sir.\"\n\n\"Good. Depth is at 6 miles and counting. Pressurization should commence shortly. Any discomfort yet?\"\n\n\"Only mild,\" Jeffery replied, lying. The discomfort bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to suffocate him before pressure could achieve the same thing. \n\n\"That is to be expected,\" the voice replied. \"Once we hit record depth, we'll be activating the spotlights. We've had reports of creatures being scared away by the glare, so we're hoping to catch them unawares. It is imperative that you record everything you see in those few moments. Do you understand?\" \n\n\"Of course,\" Jeffery replied, \"of course. We've been over this a hundred times.\"\n\n\"We have, as have all before you. And yet, after a certain depth our subnauts have trouble... remembering. Please, stay aware, stay alert.\"\n\nThe prototype continued to sink into the depths of the ocean, soundless, wordless. The currents made it drift lightly in the darkness, straining the rapidly moving chain as fed further into the black.\n\nCracks began to form on the outer layer of glass. Aches and creaks in the steel. Pressure like fist wrapped around his lungs, squeezing out all of his courage. He'd been prepped for this, and yet he could feel his resolve weakening. Though he could see nothing outside of his pod, he felt like all of the ocean could see inside of him. He took another swig from his flask. \n\nThe descent slowed, and the countdown began.\n\nA single minute. It was both comforting and terrifying. The prototype was deforming from the outside in, his breathing short and strained. \n\nAll radio contact had ceased. Now, at the ocean floor, he was truly alone. \n\nTen seconds left. Lightheaded and foggy, he prepped the controls. He would only have one chance.\n\n5.\n\n4.\n\n3.\n\n2...\n\nJeffery forced his gaze through the murky glass, preparing to capture all that he saw.\n\n1.\n\nThe spotlights all activated at once, piercing through the ocean floor.\n\nA mountain of darkness lay before him. Darkness that quivered. Darkness that moved.\n\nJeffery stood trembling, pen shaking against paper. \n\nThe mountain began to tremble. It split in two, creating a suction that set the pod drifting towards it.\n\nDread overcame him. He slammed the abort directive, knowing that it would take time before it reached the surface.\n\nFrom inside the black mountain came white. Jeffery felt as if he was sinking into it, as if all the world would drown in the opaque.\n\nA pupil ten times as large as the prototype fixed on it. \n\nThe force of the pull threw Jeffery to the floor, as the pod was yanked upwards, creaking dangerously against the pressure.\n\nThe pupil followed him all the way up.\n\n****\n\nThe scientists frantically worked at opening the half-crushed pod, fearing the demise of their subnaut.\n\nAt last they pried the escape hatch open, and inside they found him, a flask leaking near his side. \n\n\"Sp...\" he coughed, as they dragged him out. \n\n\"What did you see?\" the mission leader asked, frantically cutting him out of the suit. \"Why did you abort the mission?\"\n\n\"Space...\" again he whispered.\n\nThe NASA scientists all glanced at each other. \n\nJeffery launched over and puked violently, shuddering from the force, then turned to stare at them all. \n\n\"Space. We need to escape to space.*\"", "\"Ground control to Major Dom, do you read?\"\n\n\"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir.\"\n\n\"We've evaluated the readings you sent us. Your orders are to pull out, now.\"\n\nMajor Dom, nestled in the deep of the ocean inside of NASA's most expensive and ambitious sea exploration vehicle to date, glanced around at his crew, considering how to proceed.\n\n\"Major Dom, do you read?\"\n\n\"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir.\"\n\n\"Major Dom, this is ground clear. Your orders are to pull out, now. I repeat: Your orders are to pull out, now. Do you copy?\"\n\nDom's crew read looks of betrayal and confusion. \n\n\"Roger that,\" said Major Dom.\n\nHe switched off the telecom device and turned his attention to the decision he was about to make. A decision that ground control did not want him to think of as a decision. They wanted him to pull out.\n\nThe readings were clear: A subterranean, humanoid race in the deep of the ocean. \n\nAnd they wanted him to run away. What Dom was struggling to understand was why. His whole life he'd trained for a mission like this, as had the rest of his crew. \n\n\"Your orders, sir?\" said Dom's second-in-command, Julius.\n\nJulius would do whatever Dom wanted. He knew that. Even if it meant going against ground control's wishes. But was it wise to do so?\n\nThe com rattled back on, \"Ground control to Major Dom, do you read?\"\n\n\"Major Dom reading loud and clear, sir.\"\n\nAn angry voice came through the com. \"This is Commissioner Lennox. You have your orders, Major Dom. You are to pull out immediately. But your ship is not moving. What is preventing you from carrying them out?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Dom. \"What is the reason for ordering us to pull out?\"\n\n\"This is not the time for a conversation,\" barked Commissioner Lennox. \"Return, Major Dom, and we can talk then. If you don't, I will see to it that you are relived of your duties.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Dom, considering his next words carefully. \"I think it prudent that we attempt to communicate with this race of people. See if they are intelligent like us.\" \n\n\"Major Dom, you test my patience.\"\n\n\"Tell us the reason for pulling out and I'll do it,\" said Dom. He paused and then added, \"Sir.\"\n\nA tense silence followed. \n\nDom looked at the crew. He could tell they were wondering what the hell he was doing, but, maybe more importantly, were wondering what the hell ground control was doing too. He just hoped his insolence wouldn't take down their careers as well.\n\nThe com rattled on again, \"This is Commissioner Lennox. Julius Haroldson, you are to relieve Major Dom of his duties and return to the surface immediately. I trust you will follow these orders without hesitation.\"\n\nAn ounce of frustration broke through Dom's stoic wall, \"Commissioner Lennox, this is Major Dom. Why did you send us down here if not to explore? What is the point of our mission if we are to run and hide from intelligent life?\"\n\nJulius stepped forward. \"I'm sorry, sir.\"\n\nDom could see the sorrow in his eyes, but he didn't fight it.\n\nAs Julius went to lead him away, he whispered in Dom's ear. \"You know I would follow you if you give the order.\"\n\n\"I know,\" Dom whispered back. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd be destroying Julius's career and possibly the rest of the crew, too. And for what? Because he, Major Dom, couldn't handle following orders?\n\nHe allowed himself to be taken to the brig and locked away. He looked out the viewport at the murky deep sea. In the distance, he could see a veritable city, with humanoid creatures flitting about everywhere.\n\nSomething nagged at him, the nag that had caused him to question orders in the first place. Something was wrong about this. Horribly wrong.\n\nThe ship began to rise. Slowly, but surely, bit by bit, it rose. The view of the underwater city began to fade.\n\nDom saw a ripple in the water that could only be explained as one thing and his heart sank. The ripple traveled through the water at a sickening speed until... until...\n\nDom tried to tear his eyes away. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He couldn't believe that this was what he had spent his life for. He watched as the subterranean missile connected with the underwater city. Then more streaks followed. Several more missiles. \n\nIn his head, it seemed as if he could hear their screams as the missiles hit.\n\nMajor Dom stared out the viewport in silence as he watched a species obliterated before his eyes." ]	5
	[WP] it started as a summer job in a small café... Now you are the worlds most infamous Mafia-Boss.	[ " Damn, I’d pay six figures to whoever thinks they’ve gone through as much shit as I have since I started at Reggie’s. It’s hard to believe it’s been 20 years since I took that bus boy job making $5 an hour (under the table, of course). Only took me 2 years to get to where the real money was (and still is) at: bounties and that sweet, sweet nose candy. \n \n We tried herb, we tried black tar, we tried herb again, but nothing brought the numbers in like coke. Back when made my first sale paying sixty for an eight-ball was pretty standard in Gotham (we charged 90). Reggie snorted shit that cost over a hundred a gram; I pour a little out of every line I do into a “tribute” stash for Reggie. His death was ruled a heart attack, and it’s obvious the coke had something(everything) to do with it, but I can’t get myself to quit the shit. In this business, you need something to look forward to. When the rush that came from killing started to slowly fade, the powder made its way into my daily routine. The way I see it, I wouldn’t be where I am today without coke; Reggie would tell me otherwise, but I think that if I go the same way he did I’ll end up the same place he went after death. \n\n I’d do anything to see Reggie again. I’ve talked a lot about him, it’d be a disservice if I didn’t give you a backstory. Reggie gave me my first job; I didn’t know it at the time, but he would also give me the tools it took to get to where I am now. This may come as a shock, but Reggie’s is named after him (forgive me if I’ve lost my sense of humor, this job doesn’t provide many chances to crack a joke). He owned eight restaurants in Gotham when I started; that number had already doubled within six months. From the moment I started doing dishes at Reggie’s, I had a feeling that “bus boy” wouldn’t tell the whole story of what I actually did there. \n\n As I mentioned earlier, there were some extra-curricular activities going on behind the scenes; I wasn’t involved in those “activities” until two years in and I didn’t even see a deal until over a year in. Other than Reggie (who was only there maybe a couple hours a day), there was only five other people on staff. It took me a while to see my first deal, but it didn’t take long to see my first head get blown in. Our cook at the time (let’s call him Cap) has the bright idea to marinade a customers steak with his spit; that customer was Reggie’s Uncle. Needless to say, we stopped serving food just a bit early that day. Cap was one of two people that died inside Reggie’s between the time I started and the time I went to moving blow full-time; Reggie took his last line in the managers restroom three years ago today. \n\n A lot has changed in three years. Around the time Reggie died, I was out of the drug side of the business entirely. That is not to say I wasn’t still doing drugs, but the sales had become below my pay grade. We were up around thirty restaurants along with owning every gentleman’s club within fifty miles of Reggie’s. The day after Reggie passed, I sold all the restaurants. It wasn’t gonna be long until we sold even if we never lost him; the titty bars brought in twice the dough plus we all had pussy at our fingertips. To this day I’ve never killed one of our girls, but I’ve smacked a couple bitches. Sometimes it’s the only way to get some god damn peace and quiet. I haven’t had much time to go see my girls lately because of the bounties that I somehow am still having to collect my fucking self. Now that I think of it, Reggie would’ve never put up with this shit. Either I’ve got two solutions to the problem: either I’m gonna snort a Mount Kilimanjaro sized pile of blow and carry on with this life or I’m getting out of this business all together. I know which one Reggie would do. " ]	1
I'm not sure if this has been done before but I'm genuinely interested on what can be done	[WP] Write a story that perfectly loops around to the start of the story	[ "I wake up in a pool of sweat, the water beads forming shadows atop my forehead. The moon shines down onto me as I trudge for what seems like an endless time, forward. Father's of sand slither into my bare socks, their children gripping my feet whispering to me to sit down and have a rest.\n\nThe desert that I find myself in is bleak and open, the air dry and thick... So thick. Around my shoulder there's a satchel, I heave forwards with every step, hoping to hold out just a little longer. She is without thought or movement in the draped blanket. Burns spiderweb through the fabric and deep in the flesh.\n\nWhen she was first burned she cried, but now there is silence. Her back arches against the current of the sand. Blood trails from sores on my arms and plummets to the spongey ground. \n\nShe mutters a tone, her eyes wide open, \"wah-where are you taking me?..\"the words trail off alongside the desert wind.\n\n\"You dont deserve to know\" my mouth is broken and dry, \"do you smell that?\"\n\nShe remains quiet for a second, \"what?\"\n\n\"it smells like iron... You smell like iron\" I clench my hands tight and yank forwards on the tattered blanket. She clenches her arms in agony but doesn't mutter a sound, she doesn't dare.\n\n\"you.. deserve it\" \n\nI feel a warmth rush to my chest as the cloth around my shoulder digs deeper. The feeling of control, thank God.\n\nI let go of the blanket and watch as the clothes falls flat and wet. A mushy sound erodes as she struggles to struggles herself out, her clothes are drenched in a foreign substance. She struggles to sit up, grabbing the open sores in her side as she does so. She looks up, strong and untouched, defiant and defeated.\n\nI grip her arm firmly, throwing her to the side. \"do not sit!\n\n...\n\nSorry, I ran out of time on the train to finish this... Tbh I don't know where I was going. Maybe the guy was gonna like wakeup and be dreaming of killing his teacher or some shit.\n\nIdk, but please let me know any advice you may have! ", "I posted this earlier today but it fits this pretty well, I did edit it a little later on, this is that version:\n\n *Journal Entry #671\n\nWhat is a gentle man? To me, it means being helpful, kind, to embody and bring to life the personification of altruism. To me, being kind was akin to breathing. The only difference between the two was that I have never struggled to figure out how to be kind. From my genesis I was breathing, and even now, so many years later, my heart screams and my emotions war within me as I sit and watch, unable to do anything to help, to help.\n\nNow, to say I had done nothing at all would be a rather gross understatement. Long ago I worked tirelessly, doing anything and everything, all for the betterment of others. I gave the homeless homes, the hungry full stomachs; fields ripe with bounty for as far as their eye could see. Nothing mattered. Nothing changed. Even I, for all my power, could not help everyone. There was someone who always wanted more. Did not have enough. Someone that was envious of the fact that another person had something they did not. Such bigotry had always left me lost; I could never understand it. I've watched for so long, watched them beg and plead for help, only for their calls to go unanswered. They try to help themselves; it always fails. There will always be a problem, a single voice of dissent that casts a dark shadow over whatever scraps of happiness they manage to scrape together.\n\nI can not lie and say their actions had not soured my disposition towards them. Nor could my brothers and sisters. Indeed, long had the day past on which my kin had turned their backs on the wretched displays humanity proffered. I can not lie and say that I never joined them. What I can say, though, is that even as I turned away, let my heart break at every plea for aid become silent, I never stopped caring. How could I? To stop caring went against everything that was ingrained into my being at my birth.\n\nSome days, I wish I did stop caring. It was harder than expected to be a silent spectator. Man against man, village against village; father cut down son, women and children no different than lambs to the slaughter. It would carry on and on until finally, after the dust had cleared, the victors realized just how pyrrhic it all really was. How could they celebrate their victory if their was no one left to celebrate it with? As always, with their soaring spirits crushed beneath the weight of their short-sightedness, they had nothing left to do except pick up whatever pieces they could find and begin anew. They would start small; growing like wildfire, until their small band of survivors thrived into a bustling menagerie of success. And, just as before, the problems they tried so hard to ignore, to present their gold-spackled city so favorably would reach a tipping point, falling precariously onto the drums of war once more.\n\nIt hurts to watch. It is a cycle, a cycle of maddening monotony that always leads to new heights of debauchery and depravity. Not even I, in all my years of existence, could begin to even fathom the depths of the licentiousness they lived through on a day to day basis. It was mind boggling, the simple fact that a being capable of such great strength, gifted with unwavering fortitude; granted the unending bluster befitting a god, could stoop so low, become so... vile. So I stopped watching. And I began thinking.\n\nI do not truly know how long I've pondered. But I can no longer dwell on the past. Not when I've finally figured it out, War. It always led to war. Death paved the path of success for the future generations to go even farther than those that had come before. It made no sense. Their lack of unity, the unity on which my siblings and I had used to rise above the rest, that same unity was what drove humanity into beings scarcely recognizable than the animals they so jealously herded. No. That was wrong. It maybe have been on a smaller scale, but all those great civilizations started from war; the leftovers, the survivors. They put aside their differences to work together, for the betterment of tomorrow, for truly noble goals. Their unity was what enabled them to save themselves on the path they had waylaid themselves upon.\n\nHow ironic it was that the same thing that led them to ruin, also led them to prosperity and salvation. The cesspool of evil that was the fate of all civilizations that had come did not stem from war. No, war was a stepping stone. Death was the answer. The survivors knew death intimately. One does not wade knee deep in war without welcoming death into their homes and spirits. The callousness and cruelty of success was wrought not from success itself, but from generations lacking the fear of death.\n\nLife is relative. You do not compare how cold you are to what you feel at the moment. No. You compare how cold you are to the coldest you have ever felt in your life. To truly know pleasure, you must first become intimate with pain. The people in these societies, they have no meter. They do not know death. They do not know pain. They know success. They know pleasure. They know life. They do not judge their pleasure in regard to their pain, but in regard to other pleasures they have experienced. Their judgments are skewed, their beliefs; lacking. This is what drives societies to ruin. It is neither time nor the elements that erodes their protections, but rather their own piteous undeserved sense of self worth. They do not fear the consequences of neither action nor inaction, and are wholly unprepared when said consequences rear, to them, its ugly head. Their empires fall, and the cycle begins anew.\n\nI'm tired. So, so very tired. It is not a weariness of the body, nor the exhaustion of the mind; rather, it is the tiredness of my being that weighs so heavily. For so long, I have done like my siblings, doing everything in my power to make life easier for them. It had always ended poorly. We did not learn. We did not think.* Instead, we turned our backs to our problems, pretended they did not exist. How... disturbingly human. A thought for another time perhaps.\n\nI watch them now, living in their grandiose squalor. Before, I would have wept, having seen time and time again exactly what is coming for them. Now? Now I am elated. Overjoyed. Happy. I can help them. I can save them. Death will be their savior. They do not fear it. They do not know it. The building blocks upon which their society was built, forgotten to the annals of time, gathering dust in their libraries, forever lost. This one will be different. I will remind them of that which they have forgotten. I will go to them; I will save them from the impending annihilation that awaits them. They will curse me, spurn me, shun me everywhere I go. That is okay. I do not do this for myself, I do this for them. \n\n\\- A Gentle Man", "I've never seen anyone as amazing or as talented. Every time I see or I hear about them it's like a headline in my mind. \n\nEveryday, I go out, try my hardest to even hope to reach their level of greatness. Sure I get the applause and the accolades but I just never feel I can ever measure up to my hero.\n\nI almost couldn't believe it the one day, a day that may have changed my life forever. It was this young kid, didn't even know I was close enough to hear what they were saying. Sure I was being nosey but I guess I can be forgiven because I only listened once I realized they were talking about me. It brought me to tears listening to this kid, not once would I have thought that anyone would ever say things like that about me. Words that would echo in my mind forever, to this day, I could still hear the kid saying,\n\n\"I've never seen anyone as amazing or as talented. Every time I see or I hear about them it's like a headline in my mind.\n\nEveryday, I go out, try my hardest to even hope to reach their level of greatness. Sure I get the applause and the accolades but I just never feel I can ever measure up to my hero.\"" ]	3
	[WP] An nigh unbeatable swordsman is well aware that he will continue to be challenged to duel after duel until he is beaten/killed. So he goes into hiding for years, and uses the time to refine and perfect a far different skill.	[ "Ron was chopping up dinner, which was long strips of wyvern meat. As the steaks fell off the beast, they flew to the side, piling in the corner. The bits that were edible were divided amongst groups for soup, dinners, and smoking. The inedible bits such as the bones, skin, and organs were set aside for the blacksmith, tailor, and alchemist respectively.\n\n\nHis inn was known for its rare meats, forbidden delights, and hospitality. This inn would be passed on to his son and daughter…if she would only get her act together. She had dreams of being swordswomen.\n\n\n“Ron could you help me with this,” said Rose, attempting to place a pan on the top shelf.\n\n\nThat was Rose, the love of his life. He remembered fondly, the first words she spoke to him after slaying that dragon. A quick “you’re late”. She had mistaken him for a vagrant that her father had hired from the nearest town, but after a few years of courting he become hers. The place was at the base of Death Mountain, a travel hub for adventurers and demons alike…but years of goodwill and a strong fist allowed the inns ownership to remain unchanged.\n\n\n“Dad, some lords coming,” said Hob.\n\n\nHob was his son. Interesting boy and good with a knife…though dull. Loved a simple life and paranoid that every person would steal that peace from him. Ron had deemed it a healthy survival instinct, and would say long stories where his own ripe paranoia led him on the proper path. His wife told him to stop with the tall tales. \n\n\n“He is the one that keeps bother me with his flights of fancy. If I had my way his fancy would be severed and in my hand,” complained Hannah.\n\n\nHannah was right…if she found the courage she would chop anything off. But she saw the art of swords as footwork and a blade. To Ron the important part was sticking the blade in flesh. But she picked up everything instantly. The dances he showed her and that footwork that followed, the light magic he learned to support his art. The problem was she had no reason to fight.\n\n\nRon saw them coming on horses, big beasts that had been piled high with trophies and many other finery. He spied a young man in the lead wearing shiny armour. That shine…was contemptable. A man should be ashamed of such shine, as it meant little action. Ron remembers after killing that dragon he was covered in so much filth that he looked like a vagrant. When he slayed that king he was so stained with blood that rumors began that he was death incarnate, and when he slept with that nymph he smelled so bad that it took a hundred baths to dispel the shame.\n\n\nNow the men behind that “shiny” were different. The first was a scarred man with a stiff upper chin and a sword the glowed even in its scabbard. Likely the brains of the outfit and a guard for the sake of that shiny lord. What followed was a hooded man who smelled of sulfur. Likely a wizard, though Ron could believe that he was an alchemist.\n\n\nThe lord looked at the inn with interest, but that gleam when he looked at Hannah spurred some feelings in the household. Ron can feel the hate coming from his wife, who believed any adventurer, or lord was an inferior being…whoremongers and filth who’s only worth was dying for causes and coin. Ron wholeheartedly agreed, such beings were ill men…fraught with a sickness that would betray the best swordsmen in the land for fame. And maybe because of a few felled kings.\n\n\n“Master…May you need anything,” asked Ron smiling.\n\n\nWith a smile you can get anywhere. Ron learned this trait in attempt to hide his murderous intent. A skill that he was now proud of.\n\n\n“Best table if you may please. And some wine,” answered the lord.\n\n\nRon scurried off to the cellar to get the wine, when he heard a scuffle in the inn. When he ran back he saw his daughter wielding a pan against the guard, while the lord was nursing broken nose .He spied the cloak man muttering in a corner. Ron threw the wine bottle at the man disrupting his concentration, and shattering some teeth.\n\n\nHis daughter seemed to have a handle on the situation before the pan failed. Her mother tried to take the blow.\n\n\nBefore Ron knew it… he was behind the swordsman, griping the magic sword’s blade in his hand and wearing a smile. It cut his skin, but froze mid strike. It flashed bright colours before the swordsman suddenly paled. Ron knew that there had to be a sprite of some sort in the blade, and it had told the man something.\n\n\nIf Ron could guess it would be a very loud….\n\n\nRUN. BAD SMILE.FAKE SMILE.\n\n\nThe man immediately ran outside, with the wizard following. The lord muttered about fathers and revenge, before following as well.\n\n\nRon was smug. It was barely a scrap, and yet these men ran with their tails beneath their legs. \n\n\nAnd that is when he heard the sniff.\n\n\nRose was crying. A bit in fear, but more so for the wee bit of blood that she saw in his hand.\n\n\nRon knew he could not hide it …nor heal it or else she would suspect something. So he smiled and tried to dismiss her worries but it was too late. Seeing those tears made Ron angry. He would get vengeance.\n\n\nIt was nightfall when it began. Rose was asleep, and Ron was up for revenge. But no sooner did he attempt to leave the house did he see his horse in the distance. When he focused his eyes he saw his daughter brandishing a sword over her head. His sword. It was a black thing covered in white runes and he had last seen it sealed in a well. A well dug a mile deep due to the incessant whining of a blade that wanted no one but its master to use it. Seals so intricate that it bankrupted the owner and could only be open by the expressed permission of a blade that wanted at least a thousand years of sleep.\n\n\n When Ron spread his ears he heard her speaking with it…arguing about the best means of battle. Ron did not doubt it would tell her where to find the men, and with her skills she will kill them…but the question was what comes after.\n\n\nThe first thing was telling her what he was.\n\n\n The second thing was teaching her everything that he knew. \n\n\nBut the third and hardest thing was getting her to not tell her mother.\n" ]	1
	[WP]You see numbers above people's heads. Mostly 0, and you had 1. Some had more. Your new-born son has 6.3m. You realize later it's the amount of people they killed in their lifetime.	[ "It was an easy mistake to make.\n\nMost people never kill anyone. Ever. Those that do usually do so completely by accident. The rules didn't care that much. So long as they were the last sentient domino before the end of their \"victim's\" life, their number went up. Dammit, no. I just made the mistake again. It's an easy one to make.\n\nThe ones you have to look out for are the ones with numbers greater than, say, two. Those people have killed someone intentionally. Not always criminally, but intentionally nonetheless. The highest number I've seen is 26, and that was on a Vietnam Veteran. Understandable. The military dumped so much ammo into the jungles of 'Nam that he was probably only aware of two or three people.\n\nBut this was my mistake. I assumed that the number was a number representing how many people the person in question had killed. So imagine my surprise when my son, a beautiful baby boy, was born with a number expressed in scientific notation. What the fuck? didn't begin to cover it.\n\nI had done the work, I made sure I knew what the numbers meant. Serial killers had higher numbers than, say, a Starbucks barista. So did cops, soldiers, and war veterans. For a while, the world was much scarier than it should have been before I realized accidental deaths counted as well as murders. The number was a kill count. That was all. Right?\n\nRight.\n\nBut I made a mistake, a very simple mistake. Anyone could have made it, you know? My son was born with a number expressed in scientific notation. Thats something used when a number is too big to be expressed without monopolizing space on paper or screen. My son was the biggest murderer of all time, and he was weeks old. That was impossible. The number hadn't changed, and I had seen him come out of my wife with that fucking number already hovering above his head. My mistake wasn't misunderstanding what the numbers meant. It was misunderstanding their nature.\n\nYou see, the numbers don't express how many people you have killed. They express however many people you will ever killed. Somewhere, sometime, my son is responsible for killing millions of people. And I sit here, a measly 1 over my head, trying to figure out what to do about it.\n\nThe answer should be obvious. Kill him. Kill him, and save the world. Kill myself to avoid the prison time. But the number...would I even be able to? Or were the numbers absolute? Was it required that he kill so many? And I just had to live with that?\n\nI can't.\n\nI did my research. Went back and looked up all the people I could think of with a one over their heads, like me. Crunched the numbers. I knew what I was going to see before I did so, but I had to be sure. Had to avoid any other easy mistakes.\n\nMy son will be the greatest mass murderer in history. I will only ever kill one person.\n\nIs it perhaps because of what I'm about to do that he does this? Does it matter? The numbers mean that whatever I'm doing, I will always have done. Free will is effectively meaningless. All is predetermined. Including my number. A one. One person.\n\nMe.", "When I saw the counter, I smiled strangely for a second. They were giving him to us, to take home after a long and painful labor for my wife. At the time, the government had not yet publicly revealed what \"the number\" was. I assumed it was potential, due to the various propaganda prompting you to taken children with high numbers to the government for training. It wasn't mine or my wife's intention to do this with our firstborn, however. Potential or not, he would stay with us. \n He had an enormous aptitude for chess. Every move he made was carefully planned, and he was matching up against me with relative ease by the time he was five. He was sheltered, heavily. I was a professor at the time, and I decided my efforts were best needed at home, helping our son hone his skills. The Squads were on the loose, after a coup in the government about a year after his birth. They were searching for those with massive potential numbers, so we kept him close and we kept him safe.\n Things fell apart by the time he was 10. He was a chess prodigy. I've never to this day seen someone move the pieces around in various movements like he did. I tell you, he was a dancer, and artist. The board was his easel, the pieces his brushes and paints. He focused on chess, and chess only. It was March 25th, 1998, when the public was told of a second coup, which revealed the truth. The counter never measured potential. It was always death, and aura of death, the same feeling I couldn't shake when speaking about his \"high potential\". We were all reborn in the Samsara. Some of us turned out to be killers, well hidden by the government. He turned out to be a genocidal maniac in his past life. How could I fault him for that? We didn't choose who we were reborn from! I didn't know what came over me that day. I dropped him off to a government guard post early in the morning. I told him we were getting ice cream. I thought one last lie wouldn't hurt. And that was the last time I ever saw my son, walking away with a black-suited agent with the 6.3 million counter bobbing over his head." ]	2
I’d like to think that there is maybe a tiered reward system.	[WP] A game show in the future centres around time travel. The contest involves attempting to save the life of a ‘doomed to die’ person. There are no rules or restrictions and so far, no winners.	[ "“We’ll be right back with more ‘Teens on Titan: A Saturn Story’ right after these messages!’” came the cheery announcer’s voice echoing from the panel display at the front of the restaurant. Customers paid it no mind and continued eating their food. \n\n“Hey Tom, turn that down, will ya? We need to prep the servers for tomorrow night.” yelled a woman from the back room. \n\n“You got it, Sally,” the young man at the counter replied. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist casually, the motion sensors on the display picking up his genetic signature. The volume lowered automatically from 25 to a low hum at 15. He sighed, turning towards the robotic server that was currently placing dishes into the sink behind the counter. \n\nHer LED eyes met his gaze. “Greetings, Thomas. Update?” \n\n“Yup, it’s that time, Ax. Engage closing mode and go recharge for the night.” \n\n...Do you want a rounder, more youthful face? Try Natural Nature’s, guaranteed to make you look 10 years younger in a week!... said a spokeswoman on her commercial. \n\n“Understood, Thomas. Beginning closing cycle.” \n\nThe robot server wheeled around to the various customers, clicking as her gears spun with each movement. She collected the plates from the remaining customers as Tom waved them off through the door out into the chilly December night. \n\n“It’s hard work running a restaurant,” he mused to himself. It wasn’t really, of course— at least, not anymore. Essentially, he was a glorified mechanic now. Years ago, things had been automated to such a point that humans were hardly necessary for most jobs. First came the data entry and secretarial positions in the early 21st century, which gradually expanded to manufacturing, deliveries, and other service jobs that people really just couldn’t compete with any longer. It took over quickly enough and evolved in strides after their initial prototypes. Now, in 2230, robotic servers were pretty much standard, even in a small Mom and Pop place like this. Places without robots were just seen as untrustworthy. After all, what kind of unpredictable chaos could a human unleash on another human’s food? \n\n…Come out and test your strength at Galaxy Fitness, and get ripped in 3 weeks flat…\n\nTom rubbed his temples. He punched a number into the screen on the counter and it pulled up the payment information system, detailing the total transactions for the day. He groaned. \n\n“What’s the matter, hun?” asked Sally from the back room. “Bad haul today?” \n\nTom force closed the app and put his chin in his hands, resting on the side of a nearby table. “Nah, it’s fine honey. We got enough.” \n\nSally was quiet for a moment. “Enough to make it through the month?” \n\n“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re fine,” he replied. But, the truth was, they weren’t fine and he knew it. As the city grew around him, more and more people wanted their space for new luxury micro-homes or total relaxation spas that were all the rage now. No one wanted to eat at a no-name midwestern diner owned by a nobody couple anymore. It was getting harder to hold on. \n\nLuxury homes, at your fingertips! Apply today by looking at the scanner on the screen— we’ll send your data to our team right away to get you to your perfect dream home! the TV chided him, adding insult to injury. Tom looked away to avoid making eye contact with the eye scanner. He wasn’t ready to move yet. \n\nBut what else could be done? He had sold all the antiques his grandfather and dad had passed to him, and he was running out of options. Poor Sally had gotten into this mess with him to fulfill his dream, ad he couldn’t help but feel like he was letting her down. Pretty soon, they would both be out on the streets with nothing to show for it. Their property was desired, surely, but it wasn’t THAT valuable. He had no other alternative. \n\n“Hey Tom, I’m going upstairs to bed. Meet you up there?” Sally cooed. “Don’t stay down here too long— you need your rest.” \n\n“Sure thing sweetie, I’ll see you up there.” He gave her a peck on the cheek through the kitchen order station. She smiled at him and grabbed her jacket, headed up. \n\nThe door had just shut when he heard it. Adventurers, are you ready for the chance of a lifetime? Apply for America’s hottest new survival challenge— travel through time and space to save the fate of a “Doomed to Die” individual. Viewers, don’t forget to vote on the time frame our brave adventurers will visit! The Middle Ages, the Civil War, even… Communist Russia?! A silly rendition of the old Russian national anthem began to play as it showed a flustered contestant running around the Red Square, looking for his prize. We’re always looking for new contestants— scan in today for your chance to win! The prize? 1 TRILLION units! Tune in this Friday to see who makes it out… in TIME! \n\nTom froze. 1 trillion units? That was too good to be true. That sure could solve a lot of his problems… New robots, an update to the menu, and not to mention the rent he could afford for a few decades into the future… \n\nNo, he knew better. National reporters had done exposés on the former contestants of the show, who seemingly disappeared after “returning” from their travels. He had seen an episode or two of the show itself as well, where a woman sent to Chile during its coup in the 1970s had been detained by authorities for being out past curfew. She had been trying to save a member of the author Isabelle Allende’s family, but was instead beaten and detained. The show neglected to follow up on her situation. Tom shuddered to think that she might not have even made it back to the present. \n\nBut, it was crazy to think that they WOULDN’T make it back, right? There’s no way the government would know about a show like that and allow it to actually kill people off. Leaving people in the past was an extraordinary crime, and it would have to be shut down immediately otherwise. \n\nHe looked at the glowing screen in front of him, watching some more clips from the show enticing him to apply. “Receive a decision instantly!” it flashed. From the footage, he watched a man lost in neolithic China trying to navigate a mountain pass, looking frantically for a trapped child he was supposed to bring back with him. \n\nTom shuddered. He didn’t want to, and he couldn’t imagine it, but he needed the money to keep him and Sally afloat. Maybe it was the impulse of the moment, or the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he shifted his gaze to meet the eye scanner in the corner of his television. Small lasers scanned his cornea, analyzing and confirming his genetic information. \n\n“Thomas Caldwell— age 29. Submit application?” \n\nA yes/no prompt flashed up on the screen. He took a deep breath and flashed his eyes toward “YES.” \n\n“Processing… Thomas Caldwell… Application… Approved!” \n\nHis stomach jumped from surprise while his heart simultaneously sank. He was in. " ]	1
	[WP]: You gave up writing years ago. With no other place to go, the protagonist of your old, failed book attempt haunts your house, keeping you company.	[ "Pure silence is life's greatest bliss, I thought, quietly smiling to myself and sitting on the old scarlet love seat Greg had bought for me 20 years ago. All I wanted to do, and all I could do, was sit in my blissful silence with my quilt wrapped around me. The room wasn't exactly quiet, as I could hear the crackling of the fire and my steady breathing. Here I am, at 53 years old, living a quiet life away from society. I only went to town for groceries and to pay my bills, as I had no other reason to leave my solitude. Life was...decent...for me at least. No bad thoughts, Josie. No bad thoughts.\n\n\"Hello Josie.\" A soft, masculine voice spoke from my left. I pretended that he wasn't there. I had no need to speak to him, nor did I have a desire. \"Josie, we both know that you can hear me.\"\n\nWith annoyance, I looked up at the young man now walking towards the love seat. For a 34 year old, he was below average height, measuring up to 5'4\". His brown hair tumbled past his shoulders, and his blue eyes held not only my gaze, but sorrow. \n\n\"Why are you here, Peter? We have nothing to discuss, and I believe that you are well aware of that.\" I was stern with him, talking to him like he was a little boy. Degrading, perhaps, but I didn't want to deal with this.\n\n\"Josie, we do have business to discuss. Being you.\" I felt my mouth slightly drop in shock. \"Me? Why on earth do we have to discuss me?\"\n\nPeter sat beside me, and took hold of my right hand. \"Josie, we both know that you have some untreated mental issues.\" \"Peter, I absolutely do not! What would you know anyway, you aren't a doctor at all!\"\n\n\"We both know I could've been, it was your choice. But just because I'm not a doctor doesn't mean that I'm not well-informed. You've been trapping yourself in this house since Greg...well, you know. You've lost your passion for everything. You gave up writing, your friendships, you've thrown everything into the void because of grief.\"\n\nTears began forming in my eyes. \"Peter, you haven't dealt with this. Greg was my best friend, my husband, my life. And I...I don't even think I can move on from this grief. You haven't dealt with loss, Peter.\"\n\n\"Josie, I know that this is hard, but what if Greg could see you now? He'd be in pain to see that you gave up everything because he died. And I have dealt with loss, you know. I lost you.\"\n\n\"Peter, I'm still alive. How have you lost me?\" \"Because you left me when Greg died. You were my mentor, you helped me through so many obstacles. After Greg passed, the conversations stopped, and the letters did too. I've been trying to reach out to you for years, but you always ignored me. I've been a guest in your home, is this how you really treat your house guests? Finally I've been able to reach you, but it shouldn't have taken this long, Josie.\"\n\nFor a few minutes, we sat in silence. I didn't want to address his concerns, but he was right about things. I had given things up out of grief and slept in a life of sadness and melancholy. I no longer wrote stories, I stopped socializing, I just was an empty shell now. \"Peter, what do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"Josie, you need to start getting out and actually living. Please. Get some new hobbies and friends, see a therapist, but get out of the house and live. Survival doesn't get you anywhere in this life, living does.\" \"Okay, Peter. I'll try. I'll try to live again.\"\n\nTwo months had passed since Peter and I had this discussion. And I did take his advice to live. Peter still lived in the house in the guestroom, and I was used to having conversations with him every morning at breakfast. I no longer sit in silence all day; now I am a regular church attendee, I've joined a book club, and I work part-time at the town's library. I have lunch with women from church every Thursday afternoon at the local diner. Now I can genuinely laugh again, I can smile and be free from a burden of grief. \n\nLate one evening, I sat taking notes on the book we were reading for the book club. Peter entered the living room, smiling. \"I'm glad you're back after 20 years, Josie. It's nice to see you happy again.\" I looked up, smiling back. \"I'm glad to be back, Peter. Although I still have more healing to do.\"\n\n\"Hey Josie, I think it's time that I left.\"\n\nI was concerned. \"What do you mean, where would you go?\" \"Josie, we both know that I'm not real. I'm just a protagonist for a book you stopped writing 20 years ago. Let's be honest, I'm either a hallucination of yours or another part of your consciousness now. Maybe even both. I always lurked around, hoping you'd come back to writing.\"\n\n\"I suppose. But you could have left at any time, why did you finally speak to me months ago? Why didn't you leave long before that if I abandoned you?\" Peter smiled grimly. \"I knew that you left because of grief. I stayed because I wanted to help you get away from it. It took awhile because you wanted to ignore me. I think the only reason I was able to get to you is because you were beginning to wake up, but you needed another push.\"\n\nHe began fading away, becoming transparent. \"I hope that you finish my story, Josie. I was about to go on the adventure of a lifetime. I'd still like to go, if you're willing to make it.\" I cried with happiness, watching him leave. \"Thank you for saving me. Thanks for telling me that I needed to live.\"\n\nWith that, Peter left. I went upstairs to the guestroom. Here I had laid the journal containing Peter's story. Abandoned and forgotten on the desk, covered in dust. I read the last few sentences that I had written, and Peter was correct. He was boarding a ship to travel to Europe and see a different world then what he knew in the United States. I picked up a pencil and began to pick up on Peter's adventure. \n\nWith one last look at the port in Boston, Peter turned towards the ocean and tried to imagine what experiences he would encounter. No matter what happened, he decided one thing. He was going to live. ", " “Is this hell?” the voice asked. “Or am I still in purgatory?\n\nI looked around my one room studio from my couch, saw the flaking plaster, the furniture, the rotting food, the overflowing garbage can. The toilet and the bed you could piss in it from, if you were inclined. The festering piss stains at the toilet’s base. The expired workout supplements, the packaging faded and dusty. I saw all of that but, most of all, I saw the lack of other people. I’d always been a loner. I never thought I needed people, a connection, company. \n\nApparently I thought wrong.\n\nHe wasn’t much of a cowboy. Five foot eight. Vaguely Asian. Leather gloves, leather jacket, idiotic ten-gallon hat, a face only lined by worry. He looked like a used-car dealer because that’s exactly what he was even if he wouldn’t say it. The job is a means to an end, he’d say. I’m a caretaker. A gravedigger. A murderer.\n\nHell. Purgatory. I thought for a moment before answering. “Yes,” I said, not bothering to explain.\n\nThe cowboy’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re God, aren’t you.”\n\n“No,” I said. “But I am your creator.”\n\n“God. Creator. What’s the difference?”\n\nI paused another moment. “To you? None.”\n\nHe balled his fist and I saw him fight the jolt of pain running up his arms, shooting from the scars he hid on the palms of his hands. Those scars would never heal. Neither would the ones in his wrists or on his feet. I was almost tempted to ask to see them, but I knew he’d never show them to me.\n\n“You have a lot to answer for,” he said.\n\n“Like?”\n\n“Like why Luke Paul is what he is. Why you turned my sister to salt, but turned him into a demigod. Why there are djinn spirits ravaging the Middle East, Japanese spirits slashing people’s faces open, vigilante gangs in Sweden murdering each other to get into Valhalla. But most of all, you need to tell me why the fuck you made the angels.”\n\n“Aren’t you going to blame me for cancer too?” I shot back, my ire suddenly raised. “How about child soldiers, or do you not give a fuck about them?”\n\n“You aren’t that God,” he said. Joe said. “I know that.\n\nI sighed and sank into the couch, felt the scratchy fibers dig into the back of my neck and pushed myself into them, almost relishing the discomfort. I relaxed, balling my fists in a mirror image of Joe. “I wrote you for a reason,” I said. “I thought you could mean something. That people would read your story and realize religion is what we make it. That even in a world of miracles, maybe we don’t need to define ourselves by our belief but by our actions.”\n\n“Did it work?” Joe asked. The contemptuous curl in his lip told me he knew my answer. “Did it change anything? Did my suffering matter?”\n\n“No,” I said. “Nobody ever read it. I never even got asked for a full manuscript.”\n\nJoe hooked his thumb over his shoulder towards a dimly lit patch of the living room. If I tried my hardest, strained my senses to the fullest, I could almost sense a presence lurking there, dark and troubled and angry. “What about shadow boy? Did he matter?”\n\n“No,” I said. \n\nJoe pointed at a purple woman floating over a patch of dirt encrusted floorboard, her form luminous and half finished. I shook my head at the unasked question. She had never really even existed.\n\nJoe pointed at the twins next, a beautiful man and woman curled together in the armchair, their hands creeping over each other’s bodies. Joe watched them with a detached interest, halfway between disgust and arousal.\n\n“And them? What’s their deal?”\n\n“A bet,” I said. “A mistake.”\n\nJoe turned back to look at me. “So you can make mistakes,” he said. “But I knew that already. You failed us.”\n\nI leapt forward in my seat, my hands clutching at the couch’s fabric, tearing into the stuffing. “No,” I snarled. “You failed me. You were my everything. You and Aiden and Jib and the Chens.”\n\n“You believed in me too much,” Joe said. He walked to the couch and sat, turning his attention to the flickering nonsense on tv. “You forgot your own lesson.” \n\nYes, I realized. He was right. And now I was here, in my little studio in Oakland, alone save for my own failed Gods." ]	2
	[WP] You suffer from a condition called Anatidaephobia. All of your friends tell you that it is irrational, and in the past couple of months you've started to believe them. That is until one night just as you are about to go to sleep, you hear a subtle "Quack" outside your bedroom window.	[ "Ever had that feeling someone is watching you?\n\nIn your minds eye, did that person have an appearance? Perhaps they were tall and quick, their face shrouded in shadow, the very figure of mystery and danger. Perhaps they were ghostly, fading into etherial mist when you looked in their direction. Perhaps they held weapon in hand, softly patting it against their palm as they watched you move in the light.\n\nHow nice that would be.\n\nPerhaps if any of those people were watching me, other people would believe me. Sympathise with me. Help me.\n\n'Quack'\n\nShut up. Shut the fuck up.\n\nRolling away from my bedroom window, I grip my pillow and beg for sleep to come. But it won't. I know that thing is behind me, watching my chest rise and fall, it's emotion unreadable and unmeasurable.\n\nThere is a persistent tap at the glass and I twist as sharply and quickly as I am able, trying to catch sight of it.\n\nNothing. Dimly lit by the amber glow of streetlights outside, a tree branch softly nudges my bedroom window, stirred by the breeze. For one sweet, blissful moment, I am alone.\n\nThen, as it always does, the feeling returns. On my wardrobe now, behind my head, perched on the door frame. My watcher gazes down at me with black eyes. I ignore it and settle into bed, trying to make myself comfortable within the sheets and blanket.\n\nIt can't hurt you, I whisper, it's not real, it can't hurt you, it can't-\n\n'QUACK'\n\nThe shrill tone of it, almost violent, interrupts me and involuntary, my eyes shoot towards the wardrobe door.\n\nNothing.\n\n\"Leave me alone!\" I shout at the empty space.\n\nMercifully, it does. For a time. It is my father who breaks my solitude, opening the door and peering through.\n\n\"You OK?\" he asks, in that same condescending tone as he always does. Not believing. Not caring. \n\n\"Bad dream,\" I reply, before adding, \"sorry.\"\n\nMy father spares the room a sweeping glance, and goes back to bed. He is used to this routine. It won't be the last tonight, I'm sure. Each time his patience grows thinner, and these days I notice his fists are quicker to clench, his anger faster to flare.\n\nOutside the window, something watches.\n\nWithout looking, I know what it is. I can 'see' it in my minds eye. Mottled, dirty brown feathers, a long black beak with beady little eyes of coal. It is smothered in sticky black tar, and can't open its wings. Occasionally it shakes, quivering, trying to clean itself, but to no avail.\n\n'Quack'\n\nThat noise pierces the night.\n\nThe glass trembles as my watcher spasms, its feathers bashing and brushing against the glass and my mouth goes dry, knowing that when I look again there will be the faintest traces of black smears against the outside window.\n\nMy friends are wrong. \n\nThe duck is very real.\n\nAnd it hasn't forgiven me.\n\nr/RJHuntWrites" ]	1
	[WP] You were born with the ability to imbue written words with power. Nobody knows you've been the guy who writes fortunes for fortune cookies for decades, helping or harming the lives of those who read them. Now you've decided to write your last, and most powerful incantation.	[ "\"All these years! All these years! Not even a thank you!\"\n\nI sat there exasperated. All these years I have been helping people get what they want. Wives, cars, a life for some of these ungrateful idiots. I may have given people bad luck but they deserved it. That guy that did some sick garbage deserves to die. What did he do? Is written here. Everything everyone did is recorded for me here at my house for my viewing pleasure.\n\nThis house may be beautiful but I tell you, writing for hours at a time and then using my powerful magic for this trash is stupid. The beauty that my house possesses has been voided. Making fortunes are difficult and I could have done something better with my life.\n\nMy superiors! God, my superiors. I hate them. Write this, write that. You're to slow. Do I look like Sonic the darn hedgehog? This ends today. I'll show them what my magic can do.\n\nWhat should I write on the fortune though? Kill them? No, I want them to suffer. The world deserves to suffer. Most of them don't even believe what I spent painstakingly making these fortune cookies. Each should look the same the thin cookie shattering cracking destroying my work at the faintest touch. Those people should crack like that! No, but on the inside.\n\nI have a better idea. Everything those idiots touch would break. Genius! But they would break my house. Should make myself a fortune to be safe? Would that even work? It helped this Eric man that wanted to jump over the grand canyon. Bah! I only let him live as he was interesting. Never mind. I don't care anymore. Their destructive hands have broken everything anyways. But they commit destruction together. Their strength in numbers pains me every time I think about it. It's like an ant. You could easily kill one but a hundred, no, a thousand is terrifying and overpowering.\n\nI got some paper. The good kind. I wrote onto it, again and again, the tedious work I ever so hated before. But this time I felt a wave of relief wash over me. This is the last time I will ever do this. I never knew writing these fortunes would make me relaxed. Thinking of the consequences of me being left alone happy, the people alone and I don't know, bored.\n\nOh, what I wrote on them? Yeah I wrote on every last one of them: \"You have lost them\" Short, Easy and to the point, my favorite. They will lose their strength in numbers. Even my superiors. God, their suffering would be fun to watch.", "I sat quietly thinking what it was I wanted to put on paper. Ever since I discovered my power I had tried to utilize it to bring about positive change in the world.\n\nI decided that I couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. I would write down two simple sentences that confounded me as to what the result could possibly be. I hesitantly picked up my pen and took a slow deep breath. \n\n\"This is the last time...\" I quietly promise myself as I place the pen to the paper. I scroll the first sentence elegantly pouring my power into it. One more breath and I write the second sentence in the same manner.\n\nI sit back and look at my paper.\n\n\"My next sentence will be true. My previous sentence is false.\"\n\nA blinding pain filled my head and I fell to the floor writhing. My surroundings started to crumble around me. Pieces fell and disappeared before hitting the floor. I saw myself contorting and stretching. I couldn't comprehend what I was seeing, just infinite me's stretching ahead and behind me like a great serpent. \n\nA realization struck me that I was seeing every past, present, and future me. My 4th dimensional self. The pain peaked as my surroundings continued to crumble ripping my conciousness away from my body as it to fell away. \n\nI was free of the pain and could see all. I knew all. Time skewed as the fabric of reality rippled. The universe was unstable but I was calm. I watched as the universe collapsed in on itself compacting everything that was into an infinitely small point. \n\nI reached from the void that remained and touched the speck. It erupted hurling matter in all directions with immeasurable force. I smiled to myself as I watched the universe expand and form. I knew why I had my powers now.\n\nI was a god. The universe created me so that I may create the universe. An endless cycle.", "Was my ability a gift or a curse? It seems cliche to even ask...but I have seen so much of it go wrong.\n\nI am old now...so very old. I have lived so many lives, and then written myself young again to live new ones. And in all that time, I suppose that I have learned only this: I am not God. I should never have tried to be.\n\nAnd yet, if I have not done well to chart the course of fate with the the tip of my pen...what am I to make of the fact that I was born with the ability to do so? That was a fate I did not write, after all. In the end, my conclusion was simple and inescapable.\n\nI decided, for old times' sake, to inscribe my last incantation as I did my first. My hands had not forgotten how to trim a quill. But of course, forgetfulness was a blessing I deprived myself of with words written long ago. I remember all my collected knowledge...and all my mistakes.\n\nI dipped my quill in the ink bottle, and carefully scribed my last and most powerful incantation on the small rectangle of parchment I had prepared. I made no plans concerning who might find it -- that would defeat the purpose.\n\nAs the words left my pen, my eyes filled with tears. The weight of a thousand years of trial, error, and hubris began to lift from me. As my power rushed forth, I at last saw its source...it welcomed me.\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\nI knocked on the old man's door.\n\n\"Sir?\" I called out, hesitantly. I don't know why I felt obligated to check on him....I mean, I'm an office manager, not a babysitter. But, I like to take care of the people who rent suites in the building I manage. If you're going to do a job, might as well do it well, right?\n\nThe old man usually didn't work this late. But, on the other hand, I didn't really know what his work was -- as far as I could tell he just sent out letters and packages, and seemed to make a pretty good living at it. I'd occasionally popped in to check if he needed anything, and he always seemed friendly enough.\n\nTonight, though, there was no answer. I could have just left it, but that didn't feel right.\n\nI eased the door open, and went inside the suite. His PA had already gone home for the night, so I walked past her desk and knocked on the inner office door.\n\n\"Sir?\" I repeated. Still no answer. I opened the door, and froze. The old man wasn't here...but how? He had been here earlier, and he couldn't have left without me seeing him as he passed by my own small office. Confused, I walked towards his desk.\n\nA little slip of some odd brownish paper lay conspicuously atop it, about the size and shape of a fortune cookie message. I picked it up, curiously, and looked at it.\n\n\"Let my power be yours.\" it read.", "It's a tiring job to write fortunes. Humanity is filled with greed, but they also have the propensity to change, or to make change. I’m not sure if there’s a difference, or if there is, which one is better. I remember when I first realized that my writing held power. It was the first time I’d written something wanting to believe in it. Second grade, I wanted to skip gym class so I wrote a note going ‘my child has a bad tummy pain and won’t go to class’. Well, that didn’t work out so well. Maybe it was the handwriting of a second-grader that gave it away, but the gym made me do a lap around the field. I’d no sooner taken my first step on the grass when I keeled over. I ended up in hospital for two days. Back then, I thought it was a coincidence but similar things happened throughout school that convinced me of it. By far the incident that proved it without any doubts remaining was the historical fiction writing assignment we had to do in high school. But that’s another story.\n\nI tapped my fingers against the keyboard, not typing anything. Sure, I may have this cool power, but with great power comes great responsibility. I wanted a career change. Even if it’s five years to retirement age. That’s why I’ve decided. Today is the last time I will write a fortune.\n\nSee, decades of experience has taught me one thing. You can mull things over for an eternity, but sometimes your best work comes from a sudden flash of inspiration. \n\nI started typing. \n\n---\n\nZoe shoved her bag into her locker and sighed. Another day. Another exam. Parents were fighting. She was failing school. No friends, no support. She grabbed a fortune cookie and gave a small smile as she snapped it in half. It might sound dumb, but fortune cookies were her solace. They made her day a bit brighter with something new to read. Zoe wasn’t religious and she probably didn’t believe in a God, so she felt a bit silly relying on a piece of paper inside a manufactured cookie to dictate her everyday life. But she figured she wasn’t hurting anyone by eating cookies, so it didn’t really matter what she believed it. If anything, she was an asset to the community by supporting the local businesses that sold these things, right?\n\nWith that thought in mind, she popped one piece in her mouth as she pulled out the little piece of paper. Her eyes scanned the lines of text.\n\n“Close your eyes. Breathe. Believe. Make the effort and things will change.”\n\n‘Well, what the heck.’ Zoey thought. ‘Might as well close my eyes and try.’\n\nAs she did, a sudden feeling of calmness swept through her. She opened her eyes, energized. She could pull through this. Things would change.\n", "\"Whomsoever shall read this, if he be pure, shall possess the greatest mind of them all\" and on the flip side \"This piece of paper cannot be destroyed and it will roam the lands till the man pure of heart is found\". With that, I put the pen down and folded the paper. It was a windy day, perfect. I left the paper on the window sill and trusted the wind to do its job. I then carried out my life as a normal human being. Months had passed since I had used my ability and with the hassle of modern day life, I quickly forgot what I had written. Nearly 6 years after I passed the paper into the wind, it occurred to me that maybe no one was pure in this world. Then I read the news. '6-year-old boy discovers the cure to cancer, a preventative measure for Alzheimers, an efficient fuel source for space venture, a solar panel that is 100% efficient and...\" A look of dread fill s my face \"a weather warping machine. He has been contacted by the Aether Co.\" The president of the Aether Co. was the man to whom I gave the fortune (while inebriated) \"You shall possess the power to bring humanity to ruination\". I was time for me to pick up the pen again.", "There is something odd about human nature. You just can't give people what they want, because they probably don't know it. I should know, given that I can give it to them, ot at least, that's what I assumed: \"You will have the person of your dreams\", \"You will have a fortune\", \"You will have smart and beautiful offspring\"... these seem like good gifts for people, right? You guessed wrong. When people are suddenly given something that they wanted, they can't handle it. If it turns out to be easy, they don't work for keeping it. They neglect their partners, whom they wanted to be with for ages. They spend their new found fortune on drugs, on luxury that consumes their money as quick as it came. They don't pay attention to their children, assuming that all the work of raising them is not needed. But I had to keep trying. I had to device the right words that couldn't be harmful, couldn't be misunderstood, child proof. Where do all our problems begin? What if we could just choose not to have them? \nThis message shall from here on out, in all our fortune cookies: \n\"You will be happy\"." ]	6
	[WP] You're playing a hacking simulation game, when you uncover a secret email address well-hidden in one of its pretend text files. Curious, you contact it, and moments later you get a response: "You're the first one to find it. Tell no one. We will be contacting you."	[ "I wait patiently. 'Oh my god...', I think. 'Could I have won a prize?!' The suspense kills me as I pace my room. Finally, I hear my phone chime. \n\nI stop in my tracks to hurriedly unlock my phone and open GMail. It's them. I open the e-mail with bated breath, and read:\n\n\"We have updated our privacy policy.\"\n\nThis privacy policy sets out how HackzGames Corp., LLC (“HackzGames”) uses and \nprotects any information that you provide HackzGames. \n\nHackzGames is devoted to ensuring that your privacy is protected. Should we ask you to \nprovide certain information by which you can be identified when accessing your account \ninformation, you can be assured that such information will only be used in accordance \nwith this privacy statement. \n\nHackzGames has a firm policy of protecting the confidentiality and security of information \nthat we collect from our Investors. We do not share your non‐public personal \ninformation with unaffiliated third parties. Information is only shared with your consent \nexcept for the specific purposes below, in accordance with all applicable laws. Please \nread this policy carefully. It gives you important information about how we handle your \npersonal information. \n\nHackzGames reserves the right to change this policy at any time. \n\nUSE OF INFORMATION\n\nWe limit the collection and use of non‐public personal information to the minimum we \nbelieve is necessary to deliver superior service to you. Services can include advising you \nabout our investments, services and other opportunities, maintaining your account with \nus, providing you with your K‐1 tax documents so that you can properly file your \nreturns, processing distribution and contribution transactions and administering our \nbusiness. \n\nWHAT WE COLLECT\n\nWe obtain most non‐public personal information directly from you or your agents \nwhether in person, by telephone or electronically. \n\nWe may obtain the following information: \n\n• First name, last name and job title \n\n• Home address, email address, business address, \n\nContact information including:\n\n• Home telephone numbers and business numbers\n\n• Social Security Numbers \n\n• Employee Identification Numbers\n \n• Banking information such as wiring information \n\n• Accounts with us and transactions and interactions by us, with us or through us\n\nDISCLOSURE\n\nWe do not disclose any kind of non‐public personal information about our Investors or \nformer Investors to anyone, except when we believe it necessary for the conduct of our \nbusiness, or where disclosure is required by law. Except in those specific, limited \nsituations, without your consent, we will not make any disclosures of non‐public \npersonal information to other companies who may want to sell their products or \nservices to you.", "Thinking face emoji. No thinking face emoticon. Emoji is too plebeian. Restart.\n\nThis isn’t a camera shoot.\n\nDon’t interrupt me. Thinking face emoticon. That’s what my thoughts basically summarized after reading the message. I just finished the hacking sim. It was pretty ingenious but oddly enough it wasn’t like most hacking sims or actual hacking for that matter.\n\nPlease elaborate. Also, look at the camera when you speak.\n\nWell, most hacking, contrary to pop culture movie representations, involves at least one night’s worth of work and smashing your head against the computer out of frustration. But-\n\nSorry to cut you off but an all-nighter? That’s pretty cliche. \n\nMost of us have day jobs that consume most of our time. The nine to five schedule is pretty unforgiving on creativity. Back to what I was saying. So the type of thinking required for the sim was pretty in-line with my style of hacking requiring only about half a night’s worth of work. On top of that, it was placed in the seventh text file when you alphabetized the text files according to QWERTY style alphabetization.\n\nWhat’s special about seven?\n\nIt represents perfection and completion in both a physical and spiritual sense. It’s number of God.\n\nYou believe in God?\n\nPlease don’t tell me you think that all hackers are atheists. \n\nUmmm\n\nHe’s like the greatest hacker of all time. He does his work while operating in secret. No one knows if He exists but everyone knows about Him. Embodiment of hacker clout. Definition of hacker supremacy. Anyway, I have to get back to work soon, so I’ll make this quick. I opened up the text file. It had an email address. I contacted it using a fake email. I got a message from the same email address to my personal email saying \"You're the first one to find it. Tell no one. We will be contacting you.\" The next morning the fuzz is breaking down the door and arresting me for transferring over a billion dollars to offshore accounts. I’ve said the same story over and over.\n\n\\Camera shuts off\\\n\nOkay that’s everything we need. You’re free to go.\n\nReally? Finally!\n\n\\Hacker exits.\\\n\n\\Fake police officer speaking into mic in his collar\\ He’s changed. We can’t use him\n\nLooks like we need to find a replacement for our former leader. I can’t believe he failed the very test he created. There was a time when he would’ve never been caught and never spoken to the police if he was.\n\nI guess your personality changes with a memory wipe. \n\nHacker in a taxi looking at his phone. On it is a live feed from a secret camera showing a group former teammates and friends hacking away on computers and laptops. \n\n\\whispers\\ Sorry guys. I can’t come back just yet.\n\n/\\*Please give feedback/", "Someone contacted me. \n\nMy god, I thought no one would be able to do it. A minute code, hidden within a string of text in a world of intricate numbers and words. A metaphorical \"needle-in-a-haystack\". At last, we have had our first volunteer. Our first subject. It's time for a second email to be sent. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTo: lewis.zubbs99@genmail.com\nCC:\nSubject: Second Foray\n\n\nwww.secondforay.org\n\nPlease visit this link and read the information. Send us another email with the correct word mentioned in the link in order to begin research. This is the way to the truth. Dig deeper.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nMy experiment has begun. My little...project, if you may call it that. A mix of art and humor that only I can pull off in such a unique way. Trust me on this, as my art style is beyond the pale, my sense of humor even more extreme. My subject will find me, and my art, through these links. But, he does not know, and will fail to know until the end of my magnum opus, that he is in fact aiding me in a large manner. He is completing me, for he is allowing me to do the forbidden. \n\nA day later I received his response. He responds well to directions. Interesting.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTo: secondforay@genmail.com\nCC: \nSubject: The Machination Organization\n\nThe Machination Organization.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCurious. Most would shy away from such a mysterious and deep rabbit hole. This man presses on. He is a glutton for information, a Sherlock Holmes of Internet mystery, perhaps. It's time to wrap him up even more. To push him farther into this machination. To make him dig deeper.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nOn March 21st, 2019, this Reddit post appeared on r/WhiteHats.\n\n\"Mysterious text files and rabbit-hole\"\n\nThis was posted by user u/zubbs99.\n\n\"I found the following mysterious email link within a text file on the Gilliam Foundation code string. I contacted it and these are the emails I received.\"\n\nEmails from secondforay@genmail.com were screenshotted and linked to the topic. It exploded among the 75,000 members of the game community, so much so that a second Reddit page, r/SecondForay, was created. Game devs eventually commented on the mysterious email, many saying that individually they did not know about anything like this, but that they wouldn't be surprised due to the amount of Easter eggs hidden in the game. \n\nThings expanded further on March 23rd, when a mysterious post was created on r/SecondForay, by u/JacobWillisStevenson.\n\n\"Lizard People of Saratoga Springs.\"\n\nThe post came with only the phrase, \"Dig Deeper\", under the subject line. The user, u/JacobWillisStevenson, had not created any posts prior, and was created the same day. The OP provided a comment with a link to a conspiracy website known as LizardPeopleofSaratogaSprings (the URL has since been removed). \n\n \n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nTo: lewis.zubbs99@genmail.cpm\nCC: jacobwillisstevenson@genmail.com\nSubject: Stevenson is the key\n\nStevenson is the key. They are not the only lizards.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nMy work is ingenious. The WhiteHats community has gone wild with anticipation and curiosity. My hints are subtle enough to tease and vague enough to cock interest. I think it's high time that u/JacobWillisStevenson increases his posting karma. I think we'll start with a PM to u/zubbs99. After all, it was by his grace that my experiment could start.\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nOn April 7th, another post was created by u/JacobWillisStevenson. \n\n\"A simple riddle.\"\n\nAs with his previous post, the description was vague, and confusing.\n\n\"How windy does it get during a spring windstorm in Portland?\"\n\nThe community at r/SecondForay had increased to around 30,000, partially due to an AskReddit post titled,\n\n\"What is the most interesting Internet rabbit-hole you have encountered?\"\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe riddle came into play after user u/zubbs99 received a PM from u/JacobWillisStevenson.\n\n\"Give me the number. I'll give you the answers.\"\n\nInternet sleuths had deduced there was a windstorm in Portland, Oregon, on April 7th, 2017. On that date there was a gust of 56 MPH at the airport. \n\nUser u/zubbs99 responded to the PM, with the number \"56\".\n\nHe received on April 11th a second PM, from u/JacobWillisStevenson, which contained a video.\n\n\"Lizard People of Saratoga Springs.\"\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nPeople are watching. I have an audience at last. I know I shall soon reap the fruits of my labor. So, I think it is high time to move on to Phase Two of my piece de resistance. Let's see where this rabbit-hole leads, shall we?\n\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------" ]	3
	[WP] A Unicorn is infected with lycanthropy	[ "Months ago the unicorn was walking through a moon lit glade when it came across a man in writhing agony. It approached, knowing that it shouldn't, knowing it should run. The unicorn had always been one of the more curious of it's kind.\n\n\n\nThe man was transforming into a wolf like creature. Its face lengthened into a muzzle, thick fur grew, and fingers turned into paws with claws at the end. There unicorn stood to there watching transfixed. \n\n\n\nThe werewolf looked up at the unicorn and started to howl. This broke to the unicorn’s frozen state and it turned to run. There werewolf was fast and overtook the unicorn easily. \n\n\n\n----\n\n\n\nThe unicorn didn't remember much about that fateful night, but it did know that the full moon now called him. The unicorn walked to that same fateful glade where he found the werewolf. He stopped and looked up at the sky waiting. Clouds covered the full moon, but were slowly moving away. A fingernail of moon, then half, finally the clouds cleared the face.\n\n\n\nThe unicorn whinnied as he felt the transformation start. This was what he had been waiting for. His sleek white coat started to get dark and shaggy. Fangs started to grow long from his mouth. Hoofs grew long hard claws at the end. His horn changed from a pearly white to a deep crimson.\n\n\n\nHis whinnies started to sound more like howls now. His glowing red eyes surveyed his transformation after it was over. He smiled to himself, finally time to hunt.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You wake up in a seemingly endless forest. In your right pocket, there is a combat knife. In your left pocket is a handwritten note that says...	[ "Dear Mr. Michael Anderson,\n\nWe have received your resume and it seems as though you have passed the requirements. You were then asked to partake in an interview. You passed that as well. Welcome to your new job as a lumberjack. You may feel that we have understocked you with the resources provided but I digress, you are a powerful man. This forest has many trees. Trees as far as the eye can see. However here at LumberLuver, we only employ the best of the best. As far as I'm concerned, good luck Michael.\n\nLumberLuver Corp.", "\"Josh, \nYou were right. The world's governments are hiding so much from humanity. People aren't ready for the truth. The film industry, the gaming industry, hell writes in general have been teasing in since the early 1900's. There is more to earth than meets the eye, all myths have a basis in truth, etc.\nThe only way to protect you now, is to send you into the outer world. Try and survive, the best you can. \n-A Friend\"\n\nThat's all the letter said. On the back, is a simple map, showing me a route through the forest, to a supply cache. Behind me, is an ice wall, stretching as far as I can see. Ahead, a path disappears into the trees. ", "John\n\nYou know we care for you very much, you and your brothers have been of great help to our cause on this solar system, unfortunately the Unification doesn't want to deal with the human race just yet. This might seem wrong, but, in your current state it would be too dangerous to allow you to live near others, surely you still remember what happened the first time the chip failed to control the infection. We've left your favorite weapon in your pocket, it's the only thing you will really need. We don't know how long it will be but you should be fine, you've killed hundreds of them before, you can kill hundreds of them now and thanks to the current state of the disease you can consume their flesh, so there is no need to hunt anything else aside from water. Do not worry friend, you can survive this and once we establish a connection between the Unification and your race, we will come for you. \n", "If you’re reading this note for the first time, please continue. Otherwise, why the heck are you rereading it?\n\n1. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to read this note, ironic.\n\n2. You wrote this note, also ironic.\n\n3. You have really awesome tech (it’s all in your knife) but whenever you leave your pocket dimension you lose your memories, still not sure if this one is all that ironic...\n\nTouch this note to your forehead to regain your memories... sorry that you (me) made yourself (also me) read this when all you (guess who) had to do was facepalm...\n\nP.S. being as paranoid as you are about everything, you’ll think that this note is trying to give you the wrong memories or something. You’ll then think that the P.S. is just trying to get you to stop being paranoid so that you will gladly take the note to your forehead. Then you’ll think the same about that last sentence, and so on. If this isn’t enough proof that you wrote this yourself than I don’t know what is.\n\nAnd that’s when it all started. Of course, the Naleskans thought that the note would actually work. The technology itself was pretty interesting to me. You could use a surface in contact with someone’s forehead to put in the info you wanted. Only drawbacks were that the target brain had to be wiped clean and the transfer had to be voluntary. The process of wiping the brain itself had a 50% success rate... it seemed my Naleskan friends had hit the bull’s eye, as I had complete recollection of who I was. This note wouldn’t fool a donkey.\n\nBeing the smartest man alive comes with a multitude of implied perks, but it also makes you a huge target. I realized I was special in high school, when suddenly the workings of reality itself became clear to me. Every gear, every law and theory, everything that hadn’t been discovered I put together into one elegant formula in just one week of relaxed work. Everything suddenly clicked, and society with all its politics and entertainment seemed so petty in contrast with the insane amount of possibilities.\n\nBut I played dumb, keeping my grades barely above C-level and being a complete social outcast. It didn’t matter, college was dull, everything was dull to me. Through my mind flowed hundreds of ideas, and any one of them could completely revolutionize humanity. I couldn’t build them though, it was too dangerous. I could feel the dam of society binding my ideas behind my skull, never allowing me to realize them.\n\nSo I left. I went somewhere where nobody could ever find me. Not because they didn’t look well enough, but because it was literally impossible for humanity to find me: I built my own planet. I then freed myself from the chains which had bonded me for so long, creating and advancing my own technology beyond comprehension. I cured death, I broke the limits of the human brain, solved consciousness, created a perfectly renewable source of energy, and created every sci-fi instrument from any movie or book that I could get my hands on.\n\nAnd then I figured it out. By taking a small container and saturating it with dark energy, you could blow up the space inside of it and fit an unfathomable amount of stuff inside. I made Darksmith, my dagger. In it I put all the tech I had created in my 200 years of R&D. If only I’d been a little more watchful.\n\nI got up, taking in every detail around me as I caressed my dagger’s handle, causing my headache to disappear completely. I then gave it a subtle, mental command, causing it to transform into its true form: the Darklight suit, the gem of my work. I took in a breath of the fresh air, calculating its composition at the same time. \n\nTaking the time to admire the beauty of the forested landscape, I took in the information about everything. The trees’ reached up and spread their green hands into the sky above me, waving hello as a waterfall spilled it’s cool flow into the river beside me. Just because I was smart didn’t mean I was apathetic toward simple pleasures. What good does understanding reality do if you never go enjoy it?\n\nMy thoughts shifted with the sound of a bird. The Naleskan were going to regret what they’d done, regret it like nothing else. I, Ranniel of Earth, would make sure of that.\n\n—\nr/AnOrdinaryGuy\n\nThis will be continued with a part 2 tomorrow, and an n amount of parts afterwards.\n\nEDIT: Deleted a comma that I didn’t like, and put it in this sentence instead." ]	4
	[WP] Growing up you were always a little clumsy and often spilled food or drinks. To make light of it, you always would declare these accidents as "offerings" to your god/gods. One day they answer.	[ "\"STOP OFFERING ME PEPSI!\" Joan jumped looking around for the source of the voice, neglecting the still spilling can of soda. \"Who-\"\n\"I swear to all the other deities, I will end you, if you don't knock it off. \" A very pissed looking man holding a glass of soda said, standing in front of her. The glass continued to fill as the can poured out.\n\"An offering can't be refused, but no god wants to drink soda that you've spilled on the floor!\" Dionysus pinched his nose, and poured the drink down his throat, with a grimace. " ]	1
	[WP] Mother Nature and Father Time have been experiencing marriage issues for a while now. They have finally agreed to go see a marriage counsler.	[ "\"Doctor Alder\" said the nurse, \"your next patient is ready.\"\n\n\"Send them in.\n\nI took a good hard look at what came from beyond the door. I had seen unusual couples in his time, who thought it was good to get together when there were no other options.\n\nOn the left was a woman of short stature with green skin. She looked rather... I don't know how to describe it, but plantlike is a good start. She was the representation of nature herself. On the right was a shrunken man dressed in a black cloak. His arm was covered with clocks of all sizes. That's right, I said clocks. He had a cuckoo click strapped to his forearm. This is a prank, isn't it.\n\nI looked at the case file attached to my clipboard. Come to see me at 12:30 was Mr Time and Mrs Nature? \n\n\"Nurse, are you serious?\" I asked, almost hearing the laughter coming from beyond the door. Instead, the nurse gave me a dead look. She was dead serious. Actually, she was dead, and for a long time by the looks of it. Long shivers ran down my spine.\n\n\"Hello - uh, Mr. and Mrs. Time. What seems to be the problem with your marriage?\" \n\n\"It's Mrs. Nature, if you won't mind. I'm not being called Mrs. Time here.\"\n\nWas it just me, or did the plants on her back curl up and snarl at me?\n\n\"Alright, so-\"\n\n\"You see the kinds of frivolities she goes through! This is why our marriage is in shambles!\"\n\n\"It's not, it's not, it's just that you wouldn't admit it, that 's all.\"\n\n\"Please, don't argue, you're both here to seek professional guidance.\" Besides of which I hesitated to mention I'm charging them $40 an hour.\n\n\"You see, it all started way back in the primordial goo-\"\n\n\"Which I created, thank you very much.\"\n\n\"Mr. Time, would you stop interrupting her. Please continue.\"\n\nThe room seemed to get a little older at the sound of that, but she continued.\n\n\"As I was saying. It all started back in the primordial goo of life. I wanted to create life, he wanted to wait.\"\n\n\"It's only fair! You know how much upkeep life is?\"\n\n\"I said I would pay for it.\n\n\"From my salary?\"\n\n\"We said we'd compromise and make life conscious. I did that, didn't I?\"\n\n\"It only took you a billion years to do that, didn't it!\"\n\nAt this point, I was fully expecting the knight with a chicken to come in and whack us all in the head. He didn't come.\n\n\"And Mr. Time, what is your view on the matter.\"\n\n\"Well, you see, it really started back in the creation of Greece.\"\n\n\"He wanted to knock up Aphrodite, I said no.\"\n\n\"You know that I made Greece for its culture!\"\n\n\"That explains the scantily clad women at every street corner begging you to pay them a visit.\"\n\n\"You can find them in every city!\"\n\n\"And you created all the cities too!\"\n\n\"I created the deities that created all the cities, there's a difference!\"\n\n\"And I only created the deity that killed you and sliced you up into pieces with your own scythe and you blame it on me.\" \n\nI didn't know what to expect now, but I need to break up this argument.\n\n\"Mr. Time and Mrs. Nature-\"\n\n\"Of course he puts your name first.\"\n\n\"That doesn't matter!\"\n\n\"Yes it does!\"\n\n\"WOULD YOU PLEASE CALM DOWN!\" I shouted, perhaps out of pure mania in the moment. To my amazement, they stopped arguing for a moment.\n\n\"The problem to me is that you have different opinions on different subjects. I recommend that you talk it out.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"We're done here.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"We're done. Please, take the door could you both, and have a very nice millennia.\"\n\nI could see their scowling. They weren't ready yet.\n\n\"You know, there is one thing that we do agree on.\"\n\n\"Excellent, now please exit.\"\n\n\"No no no, I think you solved our marriage. You see, we just realized you're charging by the hour.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n...\n\n...\n\n...\n\n\"One marriage counselor was found dead in his practice today. Authorities are still investigating, but they've found green slime trails so far. Nothing is suggestible-\"\n\nThe TV clicked off.\n\n\"I suppose the newslady will have to go too.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You love writing on r/WritingPrompts. In fact, it's your favorite hobby. One day you log on and realize you have been voted onto the Spotlight. Ecstatic, you jump for joy in your room before noticing a figure in a dark cloak standing in the corner. Before you can react, he says, "It's time."	[ "“It’s time,” the figure said, taking a step forward. He looked around the room, noticing the mess. “I would think you’d be much more organized than this,” he said as he pressed against the open drawer, struggled, and then called it quits. \n\nI stared at him, part confused and part stifling a laugh. \n\n“Time for?” \n\n“Time for you to stop all this little prompt mess. Time for you to write that novel I’ve been bothering you about.”\n\nI stopped, clenching my mouse and flicking the middle wheel. \n\n“I don’t want to. I’m enjoy this just fine. It’s a challenge and I’m just not ready for that novel,” I said, turning back at him. \n\n“I don’t think anyone is ready to write the entire story of our people. You keep running away from this, making excuses.” He threw his head back, the hood falling off. \n\nI knew him. I had named him a few different times. Keagan was the prominent name for about a year. \n\n“It’s been eight years since you started this. It started with me. One of these days we are going to drive you crazy. Have fun with those prompts then when the only characters you think of are us.”\n\nI turned around, scrolling through the recent prompts. Noticing the trend they shared, I bit my lip. \n\n“What excuse you got for me now?” Keagan scoffed and turned, fiddling with the door knob.\n\n“Well, Camp NaNoWriMo is coming.” I reached for a drawer and brought a notebook full of years of information. \n\n“Don’t let us down a third time.” ", "\"It's time.\", he says as I suddenly teleport away, into a dark room with seemingly no lights, and a cube of light at the end of what seems to be a long hallway.\n\nI shook, and jumped up like a cat would, in fear of cucumbers. \"AHH! Whoa! Who's there? Where am I? Who are you?\" I say loudly.\n\nMy voice echos and there is no reply. I look around and see that there's nothing other than that box of light. I guess that I have no choice, I gotta find out what just happened. I'm confused and creeped out.\n\nI slowly walk to the light in the distance for what seems to be forever, looking from side to side to make sure my imaginary monsters of the dark don't appear and eat me whole. When I reach the box, I yet again teleport, into a room where there's a bunch of balloons and people and celebratory stuffs.\n\n\"Surprise!\" they yell.\n\nI jump yet again, scared as shit. \"Whaaa-a? Whas . . going on . . .?\"\n\nA lot of them laugh, and one of them says \"We are the mods from r/WritingPrompts , and we throw parties for anyone who ascends to a higher level of writing, then put you on our hall of fame. We also kinda happen to have future tech that allows teleportation, as one of our mods works at Area 51, and we are all kinda siblings here, so he shared it with us. You've been nominated by the subreddit to join our hall of fame of writers. Think of this all as a kind of initiation into our group. Good job!\"\n\nHoly bat shit, are these people crazy? I just got kidnapped from my house, teleported to be exact, to a surprise party for a subreddit post? Cool.\n\n\"Soo you're telling me this is a party for me in honor of my recent post?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"And this is all legit and whatever, and you can get me home afterwards?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"Cool, screw normies, we can have a thick prequel meme themed party, maybe add some balance in there with some sequels memes and with that, we can get some Thanos memes in here.\"\n\n\"That sounded like our plan.\"\n\n\"I'm still confused though.\"\n\n\"Don't be, this is your party.\"\n\n\"Oookay, I guess I'll stay a while then. Where are we?\"\n\n\"Another planet, and the one condition for this if that if you don't make another hit in one post, we send you off the planet into space to die, so lets have a fun time as is and party till you get that hit!\"\n\nShit.\n\nLol ty, also edit for tiny semicolon grammar error." ]	2
	[WP] You can freeze time but every time you return (unfreeze time) a little thing in your normal life is changed. The longer you freeze time for, the more drastic the changes when you return.	[ "Tempus fugit. It's a Latin phrase, meaning \"time flows\". It's a mantra for myself, helping me keep a stable state of my mind as my control over the various aspects of life lessens. For many years, I slowly developed an ability. Chronomancy, obtained from texts about the Lamas of Tibet, fueled by my natural ability to slightly slow the \"tempus fugit\". From an early age I could very slightly alter the natural flow of time, and manipulate the disturbance in ways that were beneficial to me. I used it for some good things, and to confess, for things like petty thievery of candy and small trinkets. \n\nAs I grew older though, I decided that I wanted to strengthen my power, and I moved to Pataliputra, India, in order to pursue spiritual enlightenment. I happened upon a monastery which described the powers I had in perfect detail upon its ancient texts, and was pointed in the direction of a Dugpa school known as the Tanzen Yaksha, in Lhasa, Tibet. I trained here for 4 years, developing my abilities. I had the strength to slow time down drastically after this period, even stop it for several seconds. But I learned of a cost to my abilities, namely small changes that may have significant impacts on my life. Perhaps a bug that initially did not exist, but now sat on my head. A coin, which was once flipped to the head side, now tails. Very small, but nonetheless significant. Eventually, it had significant costs for me. I write to you now from a hyper-extended state. Every day I recite the seven Sutras, in order to keep time stable for me. If I don't? It's all up to chance.", "When I was in my early twenties, I discovered a hidden power I had. I could stop and start time at will. Like any young man in my shoes would do I abused the power for my own personal gain.\n\nI started doing things like pausing time during a TV show so I could get a drink or use the bathroom. I discovered that while I could still interact with the world when I touched an object the same rule didn't apply to people. For some reason I could move objects around but I couldn't move a person or anything in contact with that person.\n\nNaturally it escalated from short stints to grab a drink to longer activities. It was after one such activity where I had spent maybe a couple minutes that I noticed a shocking change when I started time.\n\nI felt a slight burn in my right eye and ran to the sink to wash my eye out. When I rose to dry my face I saw that my my right eye color was now a silvery grey, a drastic change from my normal deep brown.\n\nThis terrified me. Did the altering of time affect my body in some way? I was scared to test it for fear of some drastic change for the worse in me.\n\nIt was about two weeks before I worked up the courage to try again. Pandora's box had already been opened and my curiosity wouldn't be sated.\n\nI flitted through a few quick cycles of time to see if I could notice any changes. I examined myself thoroughly and only noticed that I now had a few stray gray hairs that were brown before.\n\n\"Maybe it only affects me cosmetically?\" I mused to myself. I planned to do one more stop to test my new theory. I would stop time for just a couple minutes to see if the change was more noticeable. \n\nI stopped time and counted in my head silently. A slight sense of dread settled in my stomach and I released my hold on time and held my breath.\n\nOne second...two... three..\nThere was no burning sensation or any pain at all. I went to the mirror to look myself over.\n\n\"Huh...\"\nI didn't see any changes.\n\nI reached for the sink to turn the water on and grabbed the hot water knob.\n\nIt was then I noticed the change. My pinkey and ring finger on my left hand no longer closed. I could move them maybe only a 20th of their original range.\n\nNaturally I panicked and vowed to never use the power again. \n\nMy doctor let me know what there was no course of action to improve the flexibility of my fingers and was clueless as to how they could've just seized up.\n\nIt's been years since that day and I've only sparsely used my powers since then.\n\nWell...its been years for me anyways. You see I have a beautiful wife. Walking home one night we were stopped by a man demanding our money. My wife reached into her purse and I guess the man panicked as he thrust his knife at her.\n\nI stopped time to save her but i couldn't move her or him. I scrambled to find something to put between her and the knife but I couldn't find anything to fit.\n\nNow I'm terrified of what will happen to me once I start time... it's been so long. I can't save her. I cant save myself. \n\nI bring her flowers still. I tell her I'm sorry.\n\nBut as long as I keep time stopped she's still with me.\n\n\nEdit: a word", "I can remember it so clearly. She’s shouting at me, her voice harsh and brittle, flavoured by cigarettes and cheap wine. My young self just wants it all to stop, to escape. And then it happened. Time stops, like a photograph everything is suddenly still. There is no sound, and even the smoke that had been wafting up from the ashtray is frozen. I stop too, for a moment, taking in a breath of relief. \n\nThat was the first time it happened, the first time I had put the world on pause like that. I had stayed in that moment for too long, although I have no way to know how long, but when I had released time I had found the universe had charged me for its service. It had taken its payment by stealing something from me. A life had suddenly never existed, the elderly woman next door. She’d given me treats on days where I otherwise wouldn’t have been fed, and now she was just gone. Erased from history so that the only one who now holds her memory is me. \n\nI didn’t do it again until I was much older. In the middle of an exam about to define my fate I had suddenly remembered that feeling, it surged through me and it had happened again. Everything was suddenly put on hold, no time limit, no scratch of pen on paper. A weight had lifted itself from my shoulders. I was quicker that time, doing what I need to finish the exam and checking my answers against others. I relieved the moment of its hold and watched the exam end. \n\nI didn’t realise what had been taken that time until months later when I noticed a missing photograph, one of our few family vacations and even fewer happy moment as a family. I had called my mother, a rarity at that time, to confirm the sinking feeling in my stomach. She did not remember that trip. It had never happened. It had taken a memory and destroyed it. \n\nI was much more careful from then on, realising the cost of this power. There were a few slip ups, mid argument or cramming for a deadline, and I always felt the price of them. I got married, I had children, and suddenly I became afraid of the power. I had worked my way from nothing to something. Something balanced and warm, a home without the stench of nicotine and booze. I did not want to lose any of it. \n\nThe last time it happened there was a man with a gun aimed at me and the fear of death. A gut instinct that launched me into a frozen moment that I did not know what to do with. When I unfroze I was in my car driving home, and when I arrived the lights were on. I turned the key in the door and entered. I could hear my family, their voices warm as the our home. Walking into the living room I felt relief flowing through me, my wife and children sat in each others company. \n\nMy wife looked up at me and I smiled in my joy of this moment. Then my smile fell as she let out a shriek, standing up from her seat. There was no recognition on her face, only fear at a strange man who had entered her home without warning. I knew in that moment what my toll was to have kept living, just as her husband walked in from the kitchen. ", "This is a confession post. Here, I'm going to tell you about my life. My name is John, ironic since it's generic, right? Anyway, I have the power to freeze time. Wow, such a cut there, right? You probably don't believe me, and that's probably a good thing, as it would probably only serve to put me into danger. But, I need to talk about what has happened in my life for the past while. It started when I hit puberty, like my body just kinda developed the ability to freeze and unfreeze time, as I was developing. At first, I couldn't control it, and it was like every kid's fantasy about freezing time and running into a store and stealing everything there they wanted, like some kinda shopping spree. But, it never lasted for more than a few seconds, and every time it happened, odd things would happen, like I'd lose my DSI or Gameboy or my homework is due a little earlier, my hair changed color like I dyed it blonde or something. Those are all things that happened, and I was really lost for a while. nobody noticed the changes or the freezes and I never told anybody, as I was too scared. As I grew older I began to gain control of this power, and I could stop the bursts so I wouldn't continuously lose my keys. But, one day in my life came where I found a girlfriend, who I planned to marry, and at that time in my life, let's say I was going through a hard time. And before I tell you, let me say that the longer I keep the freeze up the weirder things happen to me. So, back to the story, I made a bad decision with my life and decided to use my power to freeze time to steal from a store. I figured out that with my power, if it's less than ten seconds, nothing that bad can happen, less than a minute, a detail regarding myself or my personal life changes, but never before had I gone past a minute. This is where it went bad. I had decided to try to rob a store, thinking if I had the power to do it then to do it, and I took some things from Best Buy, but the problem is, I had gone past my time limit and my internal clock had went past a minute. I didn't realize it until afterwards, however. I was happy with what I got, until I went home, to my girlfriend whom I lived with, and she wasn't there. I tried waiting until the time where she was off work, since she might have had her phone off so I didn't worry, but she didn't come back, nor the next day. I tried calling her mom, but she said she didn't have a daughter, and I got really confused, and that's' when I knew something was wrong. I tried calling all her friends, and nobody knew who she was, and only recognized me as a faint acquaintance, and it was like she completely dissipated from my life. I narrowed it down to what I had done in the past few days, and I realized it was the freezing, as it had gone past a minute, for some stupid TV. She was my SO, and I loved her like she was my only world. Now, she's gone, and I haven't used my power since. It's been tearing at me for years now and I needed to talk about it. I think about it a lot, almost every other night, how I ruined us. Now I have a wife and two beautiful kids, but I'm still painfully reminded of her so often, like I killed her. I just needed to get this off my chest. Thank you.", "At first, it was nothing more than a game. Some simple fun, nothing too serious. But it didn't take me long to get hooked. The adrenaline. The competition. The mystery. I can't get enough of it.\n\nI've been stopping and starting time for about ten years now. It's pretty easy to get the hang of after your first time, but ya gotta get past the first one. Most people do, but it's tough. I mean, you can't relate to anyone about that! At least not at first. No one is there to hold your hand and help you process that you can stop time, let alone that shit changes when you've paused it. That, my friend, is unsettling. I'll be the first one to admit that at first it freaked me out. I mean, it's not everyday your mom grows six inches and no one bats an eye. I couldn't really comprehend that in the slightest, but again, stopping and starting time didn't make too much sense either. Somehow I made the connection between the two. I didn't stop again until about two years later, when I did it by complete accident. Yup, my career started because of a fuckin' accident. Hard to believe that sometimes. Anyway, after I stopped it that second time, I immediately switched it back on. I was terrified, but that's when I discovered the difference: The shorter you freeze time, the less drastic the changes.\n\nMy proudest catch was about a week after my 27th birthday. At that point I had been training for nine years and had already won a few tournaments. Regional tournaments, what have you, but still pretty significant. I was top 50 in the TNF rankings, but I was scheduled to go up against this Swedish player who simply goes by Noah. Dude is top 10 in the European standings and had the attitude to prove it. A couple months before he had almost made it to the 1 second round in the European Tournament, as a teenager no less. The kid's no joke.\n\nOur round was set at 1.5 seconds, which is no small task. Sure, I've made it under 1, but even for me that may have been a fluke. I like to hover around the 1.3 range, so I felt pretty confident going into this match. \n\nOnce we began, like always, we went about our daily lives. Sometimes these matches can last months, but it only took me three days to figure out that the sidewalk between 33rd and 9th and 33rd and 8th had twenty squares instead of twenty one. No one had solved an under 2 second match in under a week before. And I did it 1.5 three days. That's the one that changed everyone. That's the one that made me a household name. That's the one that made me Anthony Thompson. Yes, that Anthony Thompson." ]	5
	[WP] "It's the last flower," he replied.	[ "\"Well, I suppose it had to happen sometime. I'll see you around, Kate.\"\n\n\nThe sound of rain outside slowly faded into a dull hum as the front door of the shop lazily swung itself closed. The empty shelves around her spoke more in that moment of gray-hued clarity than she'd thought possible. All the colorful memories here deserved a much more loving epilogue than this. \n\n\nSlowly, the weight of it seemed to sink in. Her father came in from the garden, that oh so familiar jingle of the door's bell reverberating strangely now that the shop was so barren. She wished she could make her heart as hard as the stone walls. Before long, she was sitting in the floor lost in thought. \n\n\nA small package appeared in her lap as her father slid down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders, shaking them gently in that rough, loving way they had all come to depend on the last few months.\n\n\n\"What's this?\" asked Kate, wiping an errant tear away. \n\n\nThe pink and yellow paper stood in defiance to reality, a last bastion of heartfelt memory. Her mother, for just a moment, was back here beside her.\n\n\n\"It's the last flower.\" he replied, smiling. ", "She had met Mr. Radyer in the desolate remains of southern Washington. Meeting anyone new was always a bit dodgy, so she had avoided it as much as she could, but with Mr. Radyer it had happened entirely by accident.\n\nThe faint wisps of light that managed to break through the ever-present clouds were just disappearing, which meant it was time to find a place to hide. It was in full darkness that the danger was the greatest. She didn’t know if they were beasties or something else even worse, but she heard their screams sometimes, and had been chased more than once. So she started climbing up the stairs in a place called Vancouver, until she was up enough floors that she doubted anything would come for her.\n\nThere was a row of doors on this floor, just like there had been on each of the other floors. She picked one with a seven on it, because that was her favorite number, and forced it open. The little suite of rooms was musty and sad, but it would do for the night.\n\nShe paid no mind to the dried up skeletons on the bed, and instead went to curl up next to the open window of the living room. This proved to be a fortuitous decision, for as she stooped to sit on the floor, the weathered floorboards before the window gave out, sending her crashing into the apartment below.\n\nAnd there she met Mr. Radyer and his flower.\n\nThere had been, of course, tremendous fits of shouting and finger pointing at first. When the two of them had reasonably concluded that neither one was intending to kill the other, matters settled down to the point where some conversation was possible.\n\n“Lady, what the hell are you doin’ here?” Mr. Radyer demanded, pointing angrily at her.\n\nShe had quite liked the sound of “Lady,” and decided that was what she would call herself.\n\n“Just looking for a place to wait out the night,” Lady answered. “What about you?”\n\nHe eyed her with suspicion.\n\n“The same.”\n\nShe nodded, satisfied with his answer. Her eyes wandered the apartment a moment, eventually settling on the red wagon parked against a dusty couch. Radyer’s name was printed on the side, and it was filled with dirt. A large green stalk rose from the dirt, and ended in a large black circle with yellow spikes coming off of it.\n\n“What is that thing?” she asked.\n\nMr. Radyer puffed out his chest, suddenly pleased to have someone to talk to about it.\n\n“It’s the last flower,” he replied, as if that explained things.\n\nStill, she nodded as if she understood.\n\n“Where are you taking it?”\n\n“South. I hear there’s more sun in the south. Flowers need lots of sun, dontcha know.”\n\nLady nodded again.\n\n“You know you gave me a death of fright,” Mr. Radyer said, “fallin’ through the roof like that. Sorry for snapping before. You seem alright to me. Least you ain’t look like you gonna hurt me or the flower. So where you headed to?”\n\nLady dug in to the small pack she carried, and pulled out a rumpled bit of faded brochure.\n\n“Newport Beach,” she said, pointing to the picture. “It’s got beaches and ocean and sun.”\n\nMr. Radyer studied the picture for a while, then nodded approvingly.\n\n“Looks like a decent spot for my flower, if you ask me. Is it to the south?”\n\n“I think so. And to the west. The west is where the ocean is.”\n\nAnd with that, it was settled between to the two of them.\n\nThey had spent the next several weeks continuing their journey to the south, finding a way across the Columbia River on the crumbling remains of a once great bridge, and then following the Willamette River down the valley. Their nights were spent in forgotten buildings, or high atop of trees, or even once beneath some rocks. The days were spent walking, and stopping once at midday for Mr. Radyer to pluck a seed out of his sunflower and stick it in just the perfect spot.\n\nLady asked why he did that, and he explained it was to make new flowers one day.\n\n“But there’s no sun,” she said, pointed to the scorched sky of reds and oranges that always hung overhead. “You said that flowers need sun.”\n\n“Yeah, they do,” he answered. “Sun’s gonna make its way back up here eventually. And when it do, the ground will get nice and warm, and those seeds will let they flowers out. Until then, they’ll just wait right where I put ‘em.”\n\n“How do you know the sun’s coming back?”\n\n“It can’t hide out down south forever can it?”\n\n“Sure can,” a voice answered.\n\nMr. Radyer and Lady wheeled around, looking for its source. They couldn’t see the figure hiding out in the rafters of the nearby barn, but he could see them just fine.\n\n“We don’t want no trouble,” Mr. Radyer said.\n\n“I expect not,” the voice answered. “That’s why I’m telling you not to head south.”\n\n“Why not?” Lady asked.\n\nMr. Radyer shot her a dirty look. “Don’t be encouraged no bodyless voices to talk to us,” he hissed.\n\n“There’s lots of dangerous people to the south,” the voice said. “And no sun there, either.”\n\n“So where is the sun?”\n\n“Hiding up north. That’s where I’m headed.”\n\n“Alright then, well thank you for your advice there sir,” Mr. Radyer said. He waved for Lady to follow him. “We’ll just be on our way then.”\n\n“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” the voice called as they left.\n\nThe two walked in silence until the barn was a distant blur on the horizon.\n\n“So what do we do now?” Lady asked.\n\n“Keep goin’ like we was goin’.”\n\n“But he said there’s no sun down there.”\n\n“Yeah, well he also said there was sun up north. We just come from there, and I didn’t see no sun, did you?”\n\n“No.”\n\n“See, it’s like I’ve been trying to tell you. Nobody know much of nothin’ no more.”\n\nr/Pubby88", "I looked at him, surrounded by the bodies of the dead. The hill we were on would have been ideal for a picnic back in the good times, the charred stump beside us would have been a relief from the sun, the dirt below us would have been soft from spring rains. Before now, before any of this shit. \n\nHe was still in his pilots uniform, a green jumpsuit with a bright pink daisy sun-bursting on his lapel and back. His ears were bleeding, and where they hit the jump suit had become a crusty brown. His legs were mutilated, bent and snapped into an unusable flesh mess. They seemed to be held together by the jumpsuit fabric, and nothing else. \n\n\"Are you sure?\" I drew a breath. The last one. Right here. I looked over the charred field of the fallen, bright neon painted mechs and armor standing out against the dull grey of the Government issued machines and uniforms.\n\n\"Yeah. Their leader. Ray LaFleur\" he spat, throwing an uppercut into the pilot's face. The blow was traumatic, breaking his jaw, throwing teeth, blood, and spit into the wind.\n\n\"What should we do with him?\" is what I would have asked, if my commander hadn't pulled out his pistol, and blew the brains of the fallen leader into the field of destruction.\n\n\"No more Flower, no more war!\" he shrieked, emptying his clip into the limp body. When he ran out of bullets he started to punch the body. I tried to pull him off, but I couldn't move him until his arms grew tired and he had to stop for a breath. \n\n\"Hey, its all over,\" I assured him, \"they're all dead. We won.\"\n\nAs I held him back, we stared to cry. The field of the dead, the finished battle, the finished war, we thought. Peace at last, I assure him.\n\nI would have remembered that day fondly, if it wasn't for how wrong I was." ]	3
	[WP] Dante's inferno has one more circle of hell where not even Lucifer was able to go	[ "As the etherial chains of damnation hold Lucifer he glances at a portal to the final circle of hell. He closes his countless eyes as he bites his tongue; savouring the sharp pain, he drinks the bitter hot gush of blood. He flails and rages but it doesnt matter. Nothing matters. He knows this. But he cannot will himself to forget. He cries for his father. He cries for the home he has forsaken. He cries for his existence. Dante asks his guide\"Why does he rages so?\" His escort replies \" He glances at the final circle of hell. A place the damn cannot hope to ignore.\" \"What place is that\" Dante whispered to Virgil. \"The final cicle of hell is called the circle of hope.\"", "Beneath the frozen lake resided but one being. Name lost long ago it sank forever in the void. Deeper and deeper it would fall forever, shrinking further from the light of the Almighty. Where even Lucifer was illuminated in his perpetual torment of the three traitors, no such luxury befell the wretch. God Himself had turned away His mind from it.\n\nYet it could hear the fall of steps from above. Was it the first who might descend into it's domain? Had the wretch a shred of sanity it would have remembered this was but the next of many travellers that would walk over it and the dark prison. \n\nSuch was the price paid for the wretch's sin. They, for it used to be many before its mind was destroyed, spoke into the mind of diseased men that those men might sway in trees and sink into deep waters. Their planted words bore a strange and twisted crop made possible by their presence with those that needed aid. And so they were removed from all influence and action, and not even Lucifer himself knew of their existence. ", "He let me flounder for a moment, but I was not here to be punished. He didn't let the darkness settle in. I did not wholly lose my faith that he was still there. I did not wholly lose my faith that I was still there - which is to say, anywhere at all - or that I still was.\n\nIt wasn't really darkness, after all. It was what the perfectly-closed eye does rather than see, expanded to every sense and thus writ not merely large, but infinite.\n\n\"You do not see,\" he said matter-of-factly, choosing words in a borrowed tongue with perfect precision. \"You do not feel. You did not hear, until I spoke again.\"\n\nI nodded. For the very first time, I had been a soul utterly separated from all earthly sensation. Within each of the nine circles, my divine aegis had lent me the passing recognition of warmth (or cold,) and of all the sounds and smells that the damned experienced in fullness. Here, beyond where the idea of \"bottom\" could endure, I could not perceive any such protection, because I could not perceive anything at all.\n\nHell was a difficult place for a man of reason, let alone a man of science. It was tempting to think in terms of illusions - Descartes's evil genius and all that - but Virgil had blandly insisted that everything was quite real, including my selectively limited corporeality.\n\nIt took a moment, or forever, to formulate the next question.\n\n\"Is it truly a worse punishment?\" I asked.\n\nVirgil surely smiled, though all was still non-sight. \"I always thought oblivion might be,\" he answered. \"The trouble, I eventually reasoned, was that it did not fit a particular sin. Mayhaps in the turning of eons He may renovate a corner of heresy or heathenism.\n\n\"But we've moved beyond that,\" he said. \"At least I believe we have. Here, one must needs be The Divine to know anything for certain.\"\n\n\"Moved beyond what?\" I asked. I fancied myself sharper back on Earth. Virgil seemed to understand. The experience was intended to overwhelm.\n\n\"Beyond sin,\" he said.\n\nTo me, that sounded a bit like cheating, but I let him speak his piece.\n\n\"God created not just Earth - by which I mean, oh, shall we say, 'the observable universe?' Yes, that will do nicely. He also created Heaven, and Hell, and Purgatory - and a few other places whose existence surely must tantalize, but have faith that they are largely unworthy of exposition.\n\n\"Let us pretend for the moment, however, that 'the observable universe' was the beginning and end of it. Tell me, or offer your best guess: in 'the observable universe,' would it ever be possible for two and two to equal five?\"\n\nI kept the political jokes to myself, and simply replied \"no.\"\n\n\"'Then some laws cannot be broken,'\" he said, and I could suss the quotation. \"Heaven and Hell do complicate matters,\" he continued, reclaiming his own voice, \"but we can expand the frontier and hypothesize distinct examples.\n\n\"Here, then,\" he said, with a note of wryness entering his disembodied voice, \"is where God put everything that defied the laws of Creation, and not merely those of 'the observable universe.' Were the latter all, as we briefly entertained, it would be the dumping ground for one equaling zero; square circles.\"\n\n\"For the boulder God created that God could not lift,\" I said.\n\n\"Cleverly done,\" Virgil replied - the first compliment of our timeless, ageless sojourn. \"But not quite,\" he continued, souring it. \"You see, that would be the boundary between this place and Creation.\"\n\nHe paused for effect; he was still a dramatist, after all these many centuries.\n\n\"That would be the alpha and omega of Creation, as it were,\" he said. \"Ah, the perils of translation - well, in 'the observable universe' anyway.\"\n\n\"God is the boundary,\" I dumbly restated.\n\n\"God is Everything,\" he amended - or restated again. It was becoming difficult to know the difference.\n\n\"This,\" he said, \"is Everything Else.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make sense,\" I replied quickly, but my heart wasn't in it.\n\n\"Precisely,\" he agreed. \"I do wonder, sometimes, if God considers it to be sinful. Here, finally, I wonder if His jealousy and His rage abate, and He concedes that some things simply cannot be a certain way. Or perhaps the jealousy and the rage are necessary. Perhaps without them, He could not be what He is for us - Everything, and the boundary between that and Everything Else.\"\n\n\"Anger is a powerful motivator,\" I conceded.\n\n\"'I am Wrath, sayeth He,'\" Virgil quoted. \"Quite a different flavor from 'vengeance is mine,' isn't it?\"\n\nI nodded, but had no sense of it. I supposed that my wise and well-traveled guide had no need to hear of my every shrug and shake. \n\n\"So all the other gods then, if they ever existed,\" I said, trying to wrap my head around it. \"Do they suffer? Do they even know?\"\n\n\"Oh no no, my dear boy,\" Virgil replied. \"Nothing like that. Well, perhaps, but... well, let us say, there were plenty of other... things-\"\n\nIt was the first time words seemed to fail him, and I wondered if it were truly a failure.\n\n\"-things that did not violate the laws of Creation, as it were. Ah, you still use 'per se,' don't you? That's delightful.\"\n\nI was less enamored of my native tongue's wanton thievery, focused as I was upon the instant question. I didn't press. He would tell me, or he wouldn't.\n\n\"Those,\" he said casually, \"He killed.\"\n\nIf I could have blanched, or gulped, I would have. 'I am Wrath, sayeth He.'\n\n\"You're a clever lad,\" Virgil said. \"You are about to have a clever thought. I strongly recommend you keep it to yourself. That's usually enough to keep Him... happy.\" He'd chosen the final word as carefully as all the others, paired with a particular mixture of sarcasm and warning.\n\nIf He didn't send them to Hell, it's because he couldn't. He had to kill them. That's how powerful they'd been.\n\nNo.\n\nThat's how powerful Everything Else had been. He'd had to choose.\n\nI took my wise guide's advice and didn't say anything - or do whatever passed for 'saying' in this terrible place-non-place.\n\n\"Don't think of it like that,\" Virgil said, clearly knowing all, without the benefit of omniscience or even telepathy. \"Just think of it as... hmmm... 'professional courtesy.' Yes, that will do just nicely.\"", "My dread grew with each ring. The hooded man I followed had said nothing since the two words he had offered when we first met, \"Follow me.\"\n\nAnd so I did. It's not like I had anywhere else to go. He allowed me to stop at each circle to greet friends and family from life, but the visits were short. I had met my preacher of all people in the first circle, limbo. He died of a heart attack at age 67 only a year prior. Turns out he wasn't as faithful as we all thought he was.\n\nMy ex wife was in lust, no surprise there. She had cheated on me only a year into our marriage, then left after I found out. I hadn't heard from her since. It was almost heart breaking to see her suffering in the winds, but my guide simply grabbed my arm and urged me on.\n\nThe seventh circle housed my grandfather. A rude, abusive man who beat my dad every chance he got. If I remember correctly, he died as he lived, drunk off his ass, fighting strangers in a bar.\n\nAny hope I had left vanished as soon as I stepped onto the ice of the ninth circle. I instinctively grabbed onto my guide for balance, as he seemed as steady as ever. My mind was racing at this point. Who had I betrayed? What had I done to deserve punishment on par with Lucifer himself? Speaking of whom, the three headed beast soon came into sight. I couldn't take my gaze off him and the legendary traitors in his mouths.\n\nOnce again, my guide was dragging me on.\n\nFear turned to confusion as we trudged past beast.\n\"W-where are we going?\" I croaked out, as if I actually expected an answer. We eventually reached the back of the icy cave, where a hole no larger than an average door was waiting for us. One short, dark hallway later and we had decended into yet another circle, one I hadn't heard of. Before I could ask if there was some mistake, my quiet companion finally spoke up in a raspy gravel voice.\n\n\"Welcome to the Pit of Monsters.\"\nI looked over the circle again. From where the tunnel had opened up we stood on a narrow ledge, below us was an area with a bare dirt and gravel floor, not 500 feet across and dotted with lakes of sulfur and blood. In the pit were only four other souls.\n\"You're here because of special circumstances. You turned many souls to God over the course of your life. However, you have sinned more often and more atrociously than most men. You have committed horrible acts of anger, greed, envy, and gluttony.\"\n\"B-but h-how have I turned people to God?\" I asked\n\"Fear.\"\n\"Fear?\"\n\"You and those in the pit will fight. Only seven can remain in the pit simultaneously. When I bring the eighth soul, the oldest soul will be taken. Until then, you are to spend centuries, if not millennia, getting beaten, torn, ripped, mutilated and reborn in the lakes of sulfur.\" As soon as he finished, I felt a strong hand on my back, pushing me forward.\n\"Why are there only four down there, then?\"\n\"Only five in history have deserved it.\" He pushed harder now.\n\"Wait, no I have ques-\"\n\nI was cut off as I plummeted hundreds of feet into a pool of sulfur. By the time I dragged myself out, I came face to face with one of the other souls. It was clear this was no human. It was some kind of collage of living creatures. It had hooves and antlers like a deer, walked upright like a man, and barred the teeth and lifeless eyes of an Angler Fish. It belted out a horrific screech and slashed at me with a hoof. I barely managed roll out of the way before I caught a glimpse of another sinner. This one was on all fours, with an appearance similar to a lizard, but covered in fur like a mammal. The fur was red, but it's original color is anyone's guess.\n\nThe third inhabitant was a dog. It was seemingly normal at first glance but once I noticed the growing red eyes, I suddenly felt even more uneasy, if that was possible. The deer-man and furry lizard backed away from the dog as it casually strode over to me, sniffing me and investigating like any normal dog. However, any motion I made in it's direction was met with a growl more deep and guttural than anything a dog should be able to produce, and the presentation of three inch yellow fangs.\n\n\"Finally!\" A shrill voice pierced from behind. I turned around to find the only other human in the pit. It was a middle aged man with bloody gray hair, a body caked in blood, scars, and bruises, and smile cut into one cheek, with a frown cut into the other.\n\"Someone to talk to!\" He continued. His head turned down and shadows were cast on his eyes, but he never lost the smile. \"You're going to be fun.\"", "I arrived at a decrepit door, the pink paint chipping off and the hinge squeaking loudly as I walked near. I had journeyed long and far, I had witnessed unfathomable torment, seen man and godkind's greatest evils... Yet nothing could prepare me for what I would experience in this tenth and final circle. I mustered the last of my waning strength and walked through the door. Immediately I was hit by the overwhelming musk. It was a smell reminiscent of baby goat throw-up mixed with the sweat of a thousand men. For a moment I was utterly stunned. What lie before me had no place on heaven nor earth. Creatures that appeared to be men but not quite. They wore robes with brightly colored horses on them... A squeaking voice interrupted my moment of terror.\n\n\"UMMM YOU\"RE WELCOME\" \"When someone holds the door for you you're supposed to thank them, you stupid chad!\" \"You're just like all the girls back home who never said thanks to a true door mindedly gentlemen like me.\"\n\nI was startled to see that there had been a short pudgy man behind the door. He was just like the others in the room, a truly terrifying sight. You see, his beard was malformed, hair only present on his pimpled chin. The top of his face thankfully was covered by a tipped hat, far too small for his head. Out of instinct I replied\n\n\"My apologies, much appreciated. I paused to take in the horrid sight... Could you perhaps tell me the name of this circle, or perhaps who resides here?\"\n\nThe strange man brushed orange dust out of his hair, seemingly demonic in origin and took a swig of a green fizzing elixir.\n\n\"You have come to the worst hell imaginable\" His voice squeaking, every word was a sword scraping against a bronze shield. \n\n\"The Circle of Inceldom.\"" ]	5
	[WP] You are a superhero who sees a woman falling out of the window of a thirty story building. But as you rush to save the woman, a bystander tells you "Don't save her. She doesn't want to be saved."	[ "“Here you go, ma’am. Whiskers just took a little convincing is all.” Thunderman handed the cat back to the woman. How the cat managed to find the only tree in the South Side, he didn’t know.\n\nSuddenly, an explosion rocked the area. A woman was thrown out the window! Thunderman prepared his Lightning Leap.\n\nOut of nowhere, a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. It was the old woman with the cat.\n\n“Don’t save her,” the old woman said, “she doesn’t want to be saved.” Thunderman looked at her, bewildered.\n\n“What?” He said, “But why-”\n\nA second later, the falling woman twisted in mid-air and pushed off the building. She swung around to fly back up and straight through the hole in the window. The old woman smiled.\n\n“Because she can do that,” she said. Thunderman was awestruck. The woman had moved with a grace and elegance he’d never seen before.\n\n“Who is she?” He asked the old woman.\n\n“Why,” she replied, “that’s Starlight.”" ]	1
	[WP] You have the secret ability to see sound, hear light, taste emotions, smell ghosts, and touch souls. You never understood why, but now this guy claiming to be the devil has showed up and demanded his end of the deal...	[ "My name is Ryan Rockerberry, \nI'm now 23 years old and currently in Music School of Arkenberry. I'm quite excited because this is my second semester, and that means I have a chance to perform at our school festival.\nI'm planning to deliver something classic, currently I'm learning how to draw Vivaldi's Winter last week. Uh, I mean, playing it? Anyway, I always enjoy the sceneries from Vivaldi's paintings. I mean, songs. Ugh.\nI have this kinda cool band, we have some indie albums out already and boy were they a hit. I'm pretty close with them, and my band-buddy Rebecca (who's our lead singer) always teases me that I often seem weird. I always know whenever she's...\n\n[To be continued]" ]	1
You're confused, but after a few seconds it starts to flash back and forth with "STAY AWAKE." Thinking that it's just a friendly reminder about falling asleep behind the wheel, you see it change again right when you're about to pass it. It now reads "GOOD LUCK."	[WP] Driving down the highway late at night, you come across an electric sign that reads "STAY ALIVE."	[ "I always hated long drives, especially ones like this with nothing but desert for miles. In the distance I see one of those electric signs that hangs over the freeway. \"STAY ALIVE\" it reads. I rub my eyes, I must be tired. I look at the sign again and it says \"STAY AWAKE.\" I look at the clock on the dash. 2:30am. I must be tired. Out of the corner of my eye as I pass the sign it reads \"GOOD LUCK.\"\n\n\"God I must be tired.\" I say to myself. I tend to talk to myself when I drive alone. Something to keep me awake. I lost radio about 10 miles ago. No service out here, just static.\n\nI hear the loud roar of engines somewhere off behind me. I looked around and realized how empty the roadway was. I can just barely see a cloud of dust off behind me. As the cloud gets closer the roaring engines get louder.\n\nOut of the dust comes two motorcycles. One pulls up on my right, the other on my left. They're playing some game with me. They look deranged. Spikes all over their leather jackets. \n\nThe one on the left has on a mask with a skull painted on it. His helmet has a mohawk made of metal spikes. His bike is black with faint brownish red stains all over it. The one on the right isn't wearing a mask. His eyes are wide, his mouth forming a huge smile as he points to the one on my left. I look over and see he is now holding a sawn of shotgun and it's pointed directly at me.\n\nWithout thinking, I jerk the wheel to the left and slam into the side if him. He latches onto the side of the car and starts screaming with joy.\n\n\"We gotta fighter tonight boys!\" He yells.\n\n\"I love it when they fight!\" The one one the right yells\n\nI roll down my window and start punching him in the face. I grab the gun and slam it back into his face. His grip releases and he falls of the car fading into the distance. I turn to the one on the right and fire a shot into his side sending him off his bike.\n\nMore bikes fly past me on both sides guys with guns riding on their backs. I point my new gun at the closest one and pull the trigger. The gun clicks and doesn't go off.\n\n\"Fuck!\" I yell.\n\nI swerve to the right and speed up beside them. They're all laughing, having the time of their lives. Two guys jump off the backs of the bikes they're riding and latch onto my car. One of them slams the butt of his gun into the window shattering it and climbs through the broken glass. He points a .357 magnum at me. Just as he pulls the trigger I push his arm to the side sending his shot into the chest of the guy hanging onto the hood of the car.\n\nHe looks confused for a minute. I take this chance to turn the gun on him and pull the trigger with his hand sending brains out the broken window. I reach over and open the door and push him out, careful to make sure the gun stays with me. I close the door and check the cylinder. Six out of eight left.\n\nI turn to the closest guy and fire a shot. The driver serves as he sees my aim and my shot misses him but hits the driver of the bike beside him. His bike runs into the side of the one beside him and they both go down.\n\nI look around frantically for some place to pull over, there's no way I can keep this up for much longer. I'm don't have enough ammo and they're bound to start firing back.\n\nAs if on que, bullets pepper the side of my car. One of the riders is holding an uzi and firing wildly on my direction. One handed he isn't hitting much, but one stray bullet and I'm done.\n\nOne of the bikers, their leader I'll assume pulls a megaphone from a bag on the side of his bike. \n\n\"Pull over now and we'll only torture you a little then we'll kill you!\" He yells and laughs after.\n\n\"Fuck you!\" I yell.\n\nI fire a shot but someone must've seen my aim and sped up to take the shot for him. He flies off his bike, but their leader swerves and easily avoids his bike.\n\n\"Come on!\" He yells, \"I just wanna torture you a little!\"\n\nI slam my foot and the brakes and they continue on. I quickly drive off the side of the road and park in a ditch. I look around and find some bushes for cover. It won't be long before they turn around and find me.\n\nI hear their engines approach not to long after I find my spot behind the bushes. It's starting to get light out, but not enough for the to see me behind the bushes.\n\nThree bikes pull up to the car. The leader gets off his bike and looks around in the car. The other two and their riders circle the car, waiting their turn for a look through my things. I still have five shots left, better make them count.\n\nAs the leader turns and walks away the other four jump and dive into the car throwing things around like wild animals. The leader walks towards my bush and unzips his pants ready to pee. Just as he reaches the bush I place the barrel of my gun into his chest and fire sending him flying backwards. He starts peeing all over himself as he falls to the ground.\n\nThe four immediately charge head on at the sight of their fallen leader. As I'm about to fire another shot they tackle their leader and start ripping things off of him. Two of them begin to fight over his jacket. It starts to tear as they pull it back and forth. I put two quick shots in their chest dropping them instantly. The other two are too busy fighting over his bike to even notice me. I put them down just as quickly as the other two.\n\nThe thick smell of iron begins to hit me. The weight of my actions bearing down on me. I just killed twelve people. I'd never killed a man before. I knew this was a kill or be killed situation, but that didn't change the fact that I was standing over the bodies of five people I just killed.\n\nI throw the gun into the dirt and walk back to my car. I turn it on and drive off back to where I was originally trying to go.\n\nWhen I finally arrive home after being away for so long my wife greets me at the door with a hug and a kiss. I will take this secret with me to the grave rather than make her suffer with the knowledge that her husband is a killer, whether justifiable or not. I smile and kiss her back and hold her tight." ]	1
	[WP] "Dear residents, good morning. Today's bounty of 10.000 EarthCredits is on Resident number 59722's head. Happy hunting and have a nice day." "Crap", you think, "that's the second time this year." You start thinking of ways to get your little brother through it this time.	[ "Some would call it an obsession. Others a flaw in an otherwise intricate design. Julian called it getting even. There was something to power that lent itself to being used. Others throughout history had called it seduction, though Julian had always preferred girls to legislative proceedings. There were a lot of those of course, or there had been in the early days. \n\nEarth may have been going downhill, but it hadn't exactly been ready to accept what Julian had been offering. Nothing but the rage could have kept him going all those nights trading favors. The days tying up lose ends. The evenings wining and dining anyone and everyone who would listen to his cause. \n\nFinally, he'd arrived at the pinnacle, taken the last piece off the board, and looked out upon the world from the mantle of its leadership. There had been opposition then, with each passing day there had been less. \n\nYet, his victory tasted of ash. \n\nAt the last second, it had been taken from him. The two he'd spent so long determined to destroy; the woman he'd loved and the man who had stolen her from him with his silvered tongue were gone. Allegedly they'd been killed during the apprehension, but Julian knew the truth. His brother had turned coward in the end. Too afraid to face the reckoning he deserved. \n\nThe world wouldn't stand for murdering children without cause, so the last shining beacons of the people who had destroyed his life would continue to mock him. For several days he had been lost to despair in seeing his failure. Then the answer had come to him, a solution, a way to destroy them. A way to reduce population pressure. A way to create a circus to keep the world's eyes off him. Perfection, but for the one wrinkle. \n\nThe boys hadn't died. \n\nSo, for the second time the transmission went live across the world, \"Dear residents, good morning. Today's bounty of 10.000 EarthCredits is on Resident number 59722's head. Happy hunting and have a nice day.\" ", "\"Hen! Get behind me!\"\n\nHen looked up from whatever small creature had been absorbing his attention just as a plasma bolt whizzed past the spot his head used to occupy. \n\nKyle cursed and ran forward, dispatching the owner of the Hardware store with a flick of the wrist, his psyblade slicing through old Harold's upper body like piano wire through air, splitting him open down the middle. As Kyle fell into a psy-enhanced slide and grabbed his brother, Harold's body began to slide apart, like the grotesque blooming of a flower made of flesh. \n\nHen in hand, Kyle shot to his feet just in time to backflip out of the way of a steel sword blade. Time slowed, as it often did for Kyle in such moments, and he saw that the wielder of the blade was Ms. Chapman, the school librarian who was narrowly acquitted of the murder of her husband ten minutes after the buzzer rang on his bounty. The jury believed she genuinely didn't hear it, but afterward she loved to gloat about how she got away with murder. \n\nNot for long Chapman Kyle thought. A viewer watching in slow motion would see Hen's childish smile, Chapman's clumsy, angry blow, and the only thing moving at normal speed, Kyle's right hand, fingers loosely grasping the pen like aperture of the psyblade, twisting downwards. \n\nTime jolted back to full speed and Kyle did not take even a moment to look at Chapmans bifurcated skull but kept on running down the alleyway toward the safe house. \n\nAs he ran the city councillor came on the loud speakers, his cloying voice oozing with pederast implications. \n\n> Good residents, what, are, you, doing? You have four more hours until midnight. Four more hours to killlll resident 59722. Get to it!\n\nKyle's footsteps reverberated in the shallow puddles of the alleyway as he carried Hen under his right arm like a human football, charging for the hidden entrance and the reinforced bunker behind it. In the brief seconds before another attack Kyle considered why his brother, of all people, had been chosen twice in a month for the daily bounty. \n\nA hail of bullets called Kyle from his reverie, spattering all over the pavement of the alley, sending droplets of filthy water shooting up in every direction.\n\nAs Kyle flattened himself against one of the walls, Hen chimed in unhelpfully, pointing at the bullet impacts. \"Upside down rain!\"\n\nKyle rolled his eyes and placed his right hand on the building's facade. Reaching out he felt for the aggression of his assailants and found them on the roof, almost directly above him. They were searching, beginning to change positions. \n\nKyle put Hen down on the floor and gave him the firmest finger to lips \"quiet\" gesture he could muster. Then, closing his eyes, Kyle placed both hands on the building's facade and concentrated with all his might. \n\nAt first nothing happened. Then the firing stopped and a voice could be heard on the roof. \n\n\"Hey dude, what the fuck? Don't point that shit at...\"\n\nA trio of gunshots opened up and the voice went silent in their wake. Five seconds later an apparently uninjured man leapt off the ten story building in total silence and landed flat and broken on the alley floor. \n\nKyle opened his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. Hen looked at the dead man and then back at Kyle and clapped like an idiot. \"Whooooaaa Kyle.\"\n\nKyle sighed and picked his little brother up again, racing for the entrance. They made it there without incident, a specific brick, colored just so, in the wall of the building on the left. Kyle searched for the mental key and unlatched it. Only a psychic could open such a lock. \n\nThe outline of a door appeared in the bricks and the entrance unsealed itself. Kyle didn't hesistate and jumped in, Hen in tow, willing the door shut and sealing it behind him. \n\nFinally, Kyle breathed a sigh of relief. They made it, four more hours in here and they would be safe. \n\nBright halogen lights filled the entryway and a conventional wooden door one two hinges led into the more comfortably equipped internal room, including a small bed for Hen. \n\nKyle went over to turn the knob and felt the threat behind the wood just in time, allowing his entire body to go limp and simply fall to the ground on top of Hen. Above them a psyblade swept across the door at waist height, searching for the abdomens that had been so exposed a moment earlier. \n\nKyle cursed. Another psychic. There were no other psychics in the city. Who the hell was this?\n\nNo time to consider, Kyle urged himself away from the door with a mental push, sending him and Hen beneath him sliding down the hallway, towards the sealed door. In a split second decision Kyle decided it was better to fight in the tight confines, stood up and readied his blade. \n\nThe wood door opened slowly on its hinges - first the bottom half, revealing black leggings and black shoes, and then the top, revealing an ironically moustachioed blond man in a black turtleneck. \n\n\"Sorry old chap, but I'm afraid I need to murder that little boy.\" The psychic had a twee English accent, as if he had walked out of a Dickens novel. \n\nKyle might have laughed, if the stakes werent deadly serious. He brought his blade up in a high defensive position, point aimed down the hall, at the ready. \"Not today.\"\n\nThe two stood still, gauging each other for a silent, tense moment, Hen watching, mouth agape at the tension. \n\nAll at once both men acted, sending the tips of their blades racing out simultaneously, both aimed at the other's jugular. Instead the two blade tips met in the center of the room with a loud purple crack - then again and again - a true psyblade duel, each user perfectly still, manifesting their will completely into their blade. \n\nKyle as the blade swung around to strike at the assassin's sword arm, but the assassin parried with purple sparks and stopped for not even a millisecond, swinging around and forward toward Kyle's brain stem. Too fast Kyle thought, realizing he could not retract his blade fast enough to ward off the strike. Out of options, Kyle deactivated, cutting his blade from existence at the speed of light and reactivating just in time to push the assassin's aim off, sending the purple blade directly into Kyles right shoulder. \n\nKyle screamed in agony as the blade lingered their in his flesh. The assassin could simply will it left or right and Kyle would die. But instead the man held it in place, paralyzing Kyle with the pain, and he began to speak. \n\n\"A good fight young man. You have talent. It's too bad you've chosen to waste it protecting this imbecile.\" He gave Hen a disdainful look and then made a perplexed face. \"To be honest. I can't imagine for the life of me why the councilor so wants him dead. But, my place is to fulfill a contract, not ask questions.\"\n\nAs he spoke Hen waddled over to the assassin, falling over twice like a toddler. As the man finished speaking Hen made it to his feet right in front of the killer's black tights and looked up with a dumb look on his face.\n\nThe English assassin stood there, looking straight down, and shook his head. \"Ridiculous.\" Then he took out a conventional sidearm slug thrower and aimed it right at Hen's forehead. Cheerfully, he concluded. \"Well, good bye now, strange, stupid little creature.\"\n\nHen smiled and waved. \"Bye!\" He said jovially, the spirit of innocence, and touched the assasin's shin. \n\nInstantaneously, purple energy began to spill out of the assassin's every orifice, a raging torrent of unrelenting power the likes of which Kyle had never seen. Kyle thought he could hear the assassin screaming as his body disintegrated into purple ash, but it was hard to distinguish anything beyond the audible roar of psychic destruction. \n\nWhen the conflagration was over and all that remained was dust, the enemy psyblade gone with its master's consciousness, Hen turned toward Kyle and smiled. \"Bad man go bye bye.\"\n\nKyle couldn't think of anything to say to that, so instead he passed out.\n\n*******\n\n#### For More Legends From The Multiverse\n###### And maybe more of Kyle and Hen in the future\n\n## r/LFTM" ]	2
	[WP] The problem with seeing magic is that eventually it sees you too.	[ "In the midst of her fifteen minute break, the brunette waitress sat at the doorway of the staff entrance and kicked off her shoes to rub her aching feet. Summer was at full swing, and the café was bursting full of customers demanding the house special – a fruity cocktail served on a bed of glowing ice cubes. While alone, she cursed aloud the customer who had ran off before paying earlier in her shift. She took out a packet of cigarettes from her apron pocket and brought one to her lips. As she brought the flame to light the deathstick (as her grandmother so fondly liked to call them), a shadow flickered across the corner of her eye. The lighter clattered to the floor. Picking up her shoes, she ran barefoot to the alleyway to confront the customer from earlier. \n\n“Wait!” She yelled. “Get back here!” \n\nThe figure did not run all that far. She found the man in an alcove, shuddering. \n\n“Sir… excuse me, sir? What ARE you doing?”\n\n“SHHHHHH!” The man pressed a finger emphatically to his lips. He seemed roughly in his early twenties despite the receding hairline, and carried an assortment of luggage strapped to his body like an eccentric traveller. The logo of the academy of sorcerery was stamped upon on his duffel bag, while the backpack on his back seemed torn and singed in places. The waitress presumed the money she was owed lay in the bum bag he also wore, but was starting to regret the chase already.\n\n“What?” \n\n“Get in here already or it’ll find us!”\n\n“I am not getting in there.”\n\n“T-trust me, you do not want to come into contact with that thing.”\n\n“What thing? What are you so scared of?”\n\n“A spell. I never realized magic was sentient!” The man winced. “This one really has it out for me.”\n\n“Jacooooooooob.” A voice drawled from the far end of the alleyway. A yellow-ish translucent figure marched closer. Any debris in the path of the figure seemed to explode prior to its touch, a torrent of pulverised junk splattered down the alleyway in a dirty rain.\n\n“What’s your name?” The eccentric man turned to his equally horrified companion. \n\n“Martha.” She replied, tracing the cigarette packet hiding in her apron.\n\n“Martha, we really need to run.” ", "Many peoples perception of magic is that of innate energies drawn from ones inner self, projected through silly rituals to mold the world before them to their whim. A nice little power fantasy. But a man is simply a man, and magic is... something else. \n\nThe bars beat pounded as twenty somethings fumbled across the floor. I weaved my way through the seething dance floor and under swinging pool cues before finally finding my friend spinning in a stool to the bemused look of the bartender.\n\n\"At least you saved me a seat.\" \n\nI quipped before he spun once more.\n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"At least you saved me a seat.\"\n\nOne look at his perplexed face told me that he already was far gone. Taking my seat I tapped the wooden counter top waiting for the bar tender to come around once more. A man with strait brown hair in a white buttoned top took the stool next to mine. He sat staring at the neon brewery signs with a somber look. Taking a glance at my friend dry heaving while somehow still spinning, I figured for his safety, drinks would be better spent on meeting new people. Tapping the mans shoulder, I pointed at one of the intricate neon signs dangling above the spirits. \n\n\"Hey if your'e looking for a local drink you can't go wrong with logged hog.\"\n\nHis sight snapped from the sign to me as a hefty newcomer sat on him. NO, that wasn't quite right, sat through him. The music stopped, the people stopped, the drinks stopped, time stopped. Except for me, and the brown haired man. With a beaming smile he walked through the wooden bar counter and grabbed a bottle of rum before turning and placing it with two clinging shot glasses before me. \n\n\"You are the first person to see me in a very long time.\" \n\nhe began, pouring the spiced liquor into the crystal glasses. \n\n\"A VERY long time.\" \n\nhe sighed before picking up one of the shot glasses.\n\n\"But that time is over, and our time has just begun- oh don't give me that face.\"\n\nI honestly didn't know that my jaw could drop that far, but there I was, eyes wide as a doe's staring slack-jawed at this man. \n\n\"Alright.\"\n\nHe groaned putting down the glass.\n\n\"Lets get started\"\n\nWill probably finish tomorrow, maybe not, really tired. \n\nFeed back for what is there would be appreciated though. \n\n\n\n", "\"You're sure this is the place, Bill?\" asked Chief Grossman. He was holding a gas station map and frowning at the squat concrete building in front of them. \"It ain't on the map.\"\n\n\"You heard the broadcast same as I did, Chief,\" Bill replied, with more certainty than he felt. There was a fence around the building, but the gate was open and the guard shack seemed unoccupied. Not what he expected given what they had heard on the radio. \"Maybe they're laying low.\"\n\n\"Hope so,\" the Chief said. he folded the map and stowed it in his jacket. \"We don't have much gas left. Let's check it out.\"\n\nThe remnants of the Forsyth police force filed down the road towards the building at a cautious pace. Surviving the journey had taught them a multitude of harsh lessons, not the least of which was to fear any structure that seemed abandoned. Sometimes there were hungry horrors hidden within, and they had few men left to spare. But the radio had promised a sanctuary here, and they had nowhere else to go. \n\nThe door had been cut open with a blowtorch, thick steel and magnetic locks still held tightly together and discarded to the side. They began a careful clearing operation, working their way down the main corridor past empty offices and storerooms. Most of the fluorescent lights still functioned, though a few had started to flicker, and many of the rooms were locked behind keypads. The air smelled of ammonia and acrid burnt plastic and a faint rot. There was a subsonic thumping sound, barely noticeable, that shook the building at regular intervals, like a drawn out heartbeat. None of the usual signs of the afflicted - no blood runes and blood altars. Small comfort, but small comforts were welcome.\n\nThe main corridor terminated in another set of steel doors. They showed signs of having been cut and replaced. When the Chief pressed on them they did not budge.\n\n\"Welded on the other side,\" Bill said. He laid a hand on the steel and sighed. \"Looks like they rolled up the welcoming mat.\"\n\nHe heard the disappointment ripple through the men lining the corridor. They had held together this long out of lack of other options in a world gone mad, but there had always been some shreds of hope. Some faint belief that there was a way to fix what had been broken. When they had heard the broadcast promising a chance to fight back, that hope had taken root. Tearing it out now would rip a gash in their spirit that might be too much to bear.\n\n\"Wait,\" he said, as the chorus of murmurs and angry curses flared up. He felt a vibration in the steel. \"Heads up, guys.\"\n\nThe door was briefly limned with a brilliant white light. Bill cursed and stepped back, blinking away the afterimage, nearly tripping over the Chief. He fumbled with his revolver and hoped to hell that he wouldn't have to shoot at whoever was on the other side. He could barely see a thing. A screech of steel on steel and the door flipped inward, banging against the walls. An old man stood inside, leaning heavily on a white staff topped with a broken fragment of obsidian, his clothes torn and dirty.\n\n\"Hello,\" the old man said. Bill saw that the man was wearing a bone necklace and raised the revolver, a spike of panic lancing through his heart, but the old man did not react.\n\n\"We are friends,\" the old man said, his voice tired and broken. \"Though I'm afraid it will do neither of us much good.\"\n\n\"Who the hell are you?\" Bill asked, his revolver still pointed squarely at the old man's heart. \"Where's the captain we heard on the radio?\"\n\n\"I can show you,\" the old man said, angling his head towards another set of the doors a little ways down the corridor. \"Please, do not point your weapon at me. I have lost my patience with fear, here at the end of things, but I do not wish to harm you.\"\n\nBill lowered the revolver slowly, mind picking apart the old man's words as if he were interrogating a suspect and recoiling at the inferences. \n\n\"Show us,\" Bill said. \"And tell me your name, at least.\"\n\n\"I used to be called Qaletaqa,\" the old man said. \"But I think I may have to take a new name for a time. Come.\"\n\nHe turned and walked down the corridor, his staff tapping lightly every other step. Bill glanced at the Chief, who shrugged and waved a hand to move his men forward.\n\n\"At least we have a roof tonight,\" the Chief said softly. \"Better than nothing.\"\n\nQaletaqa pressed his staff against the final set of doors for a moment and they slid back into the walls, revealing an elevator shaft. The thrumming sound intensified as they opened, and bits of dust streamed down from the ceiling as the building shook with a particularly strong beat. Qaletaqa gestured with his staff and stepped back out of the way. Bill peered carefully over the edge and saw a concrete floor a few feet down the shaft.\n\n\"What the hell?\" he blurted, confused.\n\n\"The Captain and his men were called down to help with some disturbance,\" Qaletaqa said distantly. \"I surmise that they failed. The shaft filled with concrete shortly after their descent, and there has been no word since. Those who remained above fled once the shaking began. But I must wait and see what arises from the deep.\"\n\nThe old man took off his bone necklace and handed it to Bill, who accepted it uncertainly. Qaletaqa settled into a lotus position facing the elevator and laid his staff across his legs, as motionless as a statue. Bill edged away as another thrum shook the building and a tiny crack opened up in the concrete.\n\n\"I have watched the spirits all my life,\" Qaletaqa said, as if to himself. \"I believed I had them tamed. Broken to my will. But now they have slipped the halter and run wild.\"\n\n\"Chief,\" Bill said, gesturing towards the entrance. The Chief nodded and turned. There would be no shelter here. They would have to move on, out into the gathering dark.\n\n\"Were they watching me, all this time?\" Qaletaqa asked. Bill backed away from the old man, revolver at the ready. \"Perhaps it is my turn to sleep within the earth, and await an age when they have waned.\"\n\n\"Ok,\" Bill said, unsure of what the old man wanted to hear. Another thump. \"We're going, now. Good luck.\"\n\n\"Beware the spirits, Detective!\" the old man called. \"Once you see them, they will see you!\"\n\n\"Sure, buddy,\" Bill muttered. He hustled through the corridor and out into the open air, where the Chief and the rest of the force had gathered in a tight circle of despair. The Chief looked up the road and squinted at the sun where it hung low in the western sky. \n\n\"We need to find a place to sleep,\" the Chief said, voice heavy as lead. \"Maybe that town we passed on the way in. What the hell are you going to do with those bones, Bill?\"\n\nBill glanced the necklace in his hand. It clinked softly as he held it up and turned it about. The eye sockets in the skulls all seemed to meet his gaze, and he looked away. He started to open his hand to drop it, but then he heard a whisper on the wind and froze.\n\n\"Bill?\" the Chief asked. \"What are we going to do?\"\n\nThe whisper intensified, spoken in an incomprehensible language that Bill understood all the same. There were still options. Still paths to survival, if not victory. The whisperers knew what to do, if he could learn how to listen. He slipped the necklace on and took a deep breath. \n\n\"I think I have some ideas.\"\n\n---\nEnd of series\n\n[Previously](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8v3kw5/tt_nobody_understood_my_pain_until_i_made_them/e1kws2h/) \n", "Humans can't use magic, but they can steal it.\n\nMagic doesn't exist in this world. It can't. There are rules to this world that magic just breaks. But the Alternate doesn't have the same rules that our world does. It has its own, and those we barely understand.\n\nWe grew so quickly from minor discoveries like never-ending lantern flames to impossible feats like controlled, localized weather systems that it was really inevitable we'd start to wonder what would happen if—rather than a small binding circle in the base of a lantern or beneath the soil of a field of crops—what if we ourselves were connected to the Alternate?\n\nWe knew where to find certain forces in the Alternate, which binding circles would connect to which elements and siphon their power. So, with a little trial and error, some death and dismemberment for the intrepid explorers poking around in a world we could only glimpse, we learned how to hold the power of the Alternate in the palm of our hands. Flame at a touch. Winds where we directed them. Rivers or rain as we wanted.\n\nA binding circle is really just a door that you can open and close. You open the door to a fire in the Alternate where you want a fire to be in our world, and it's there. Close the door, and it's not. If we are that door, we can choose when and where the fire will be. Simple, in concept.\n\nBut the Alternate is not an empty world. There are beings that live there, and I learned where to find one.\n\nI opened the door for one. Tried to steal some of its magic. To see what I could become, what I could learn and know.\n\nI learned that the door opens two ways. And where we have spent all these years seeing into the Alternate, this time, there was something there to look back. I was seen, and it was me, or at least some part of me, that was bound and pulled through.\n\n\"Hello,\" I said to the being of the Alternate. " ]	4
	[WP] Ever since you were born the circle of windchimes around the village have hung in silence. The elders say they were put there to protect the village. For the first time in living memory, they're silent no more	[ "\\\\Audio Reading for my practice: [http://themadhill.libsyn.com/hells-bells](http://themadhill.libsyn.com/hells-bells)\n\n\\\\\\\n\nThe sun fell in the sky over castle of Deeprock, snug against the mountain on one side, and sitting by the edge of a great cliff above the flat lands below on the other. It was a misty evening and deep fog rolled in off the flats as the sunset pushed the mountain’s shade over the keep. A chill settled into the castle sending a sweeping shiver through the halls, and anyone in caught them. The cold wind was not the only thing the darkness brought that night. No, that was the night he* arrived.\n\nThe gate guards were not expecting anyone that night. Not that there was a guest list or some such, just that on nights like this no one came through the mountain pass. The rocks would have frosted and become slippery, the craggy stairs and edges would have become too hazardous to risk. The guards were not surprised when he stepped out of the mist however, as though he belonged there, as though a treacherous night was where he always was.\n\nLooking into his dark eyes was like staring off the side of a cliff, terrifying and wonderous. The expanse in those eyes was thrilling at first, until you realized you might fall in. Whether it was using ancient magics, or just through sending people away with those eyes is unknown, but he strode past all the guards into the throne room unimpeded.\n\nQueen Rolenus and her court were momentarily shocked to silence by him, his cloak swirling around him as the cold air followed him into the room. Where there should have been anger there was only confusion; the Guard Captain Ogden wondering where his guards were, the court shivering, and High Wizard Lanix frowning in recognition of those dark eyes.\n\nIt was Lanix that broke the silence. “You are not welcome here nightling.” He straightened his staff in front of himself bracing it against the ground, it’s tip began to glow faintly.\n\n“Now, now” said the nightling. “There’s no need for that. I come bearing a gift for Her Majesty.” An overly comforting smile spreading across his face.\n\n“And what gift would the nightlings offer me” Queen Rolenus said, giving a hand wave to Lanix signaling him to stand down. He did, reluctantly.\n\nThe nightling’s grin spread unnaturally wide making his face look like a mask. “The gift of knowledge Your Highness, do you accept it?”\n\n“We will hear your knowledge first nightling, and then we can discuss its acceptance” said the queen.\n\nThe nightling’s face became a caricature of seriousness. “Very well, Your Highness, here is the news I bring. The evening tide is coming, dark waves will lap at your doors, and my brothers prepare to sail the dark sea. So say the stars.”\n\n“The stars….” Queen Rolenus repeated meeting the nightling’s gaze and holding it. “We accept your knowledge nightling. You have said your piece, now be gone from my house.”\n\nSilence took the room.\n\nEventually, the nightling nodded and turned to leave “one last thing Your Majesty, mind the bells.” His words echoed throughout the chamber as he left.\n\nDiscussion of the evening’s events stretched late into the night. Guard Captain Ogden had implored the Queen to dismiss it as “foul trickery”. Lanix wondered if Ogden truly believed that. Nightlings were myth sure, but they had all seen that creature with their own eyes. And he had known, not thought, but known what it was. He didn’t know how. Until he had seen that creature he had thought nightlings as much a “foul trick” of legend as Ogden had claimed. “All legends have roots in truth” Lanix thought. He walked the long cold corridor to the library and let himself in. It was dawn before he found what he was looking for, the journal of King Leopold the first. This was it, the only mention of a dark sea anywhere in the library.\n\nKing Leopold had built the bells. It was not for another 500 years that King Andrus VIII built this castle around them, originally as a fort. They never rang, how could they, they were tide bells and impossibly large, rung by lifting the huge pendulum and there was no sea for 1000 miles. According to King Leopold’s notes there had originally been many such bells lining the Mountains of Druidor. Lanix wondered if the bells at Deeprock Castle were the only ones left standing. It was possible, maybe even likely given how time had ravaged the kingdom.\n\nIn the ancient texts mentioning nightlings was common enough, but those documents were full of inaccuracies and embellishments. The farther back you went the more they sounded like an ancient kingdom, but as time went on they became dwellers of the dark like ogres and goblins; something sneaking out of caves to terrorize nearby towns. Eventually they were little more than monsters under children’s beds.\n\nIt took Lanix nearly a fortnight to gather everything he could mentioning evening tides, nightlings, dark waves, and the bells. It was pieced together notes from King Leopold’s astronomer that finally caught Lanix eye, too damaged to read in places. “When the four moons… evening tide ebbs and… dark waves splash the mountain shore… black sails.” This wasn’t written like a legend though, these were the astronomers personal notes. Surely, he didn’t mean a real tide? Waves at the mountain’s shore? When was the last time the four moons aligned, Lanix wondered? The knowledge of that was unfortunately lost to time. “But maybe…” he thought as he ran out of the room.\n\nThe old astronomer Percival was startled awake as Lanix burst into his study. “Now what is this… what can I…” he managed to get out before Lanix cut him off.\n\nGasping for breath he steadied himself before asking “The four moons Percival, when will the four moons align?”\n\nBefore Percival could respond Lanix smelled it, sea salt on the wind. “I’m too late” he thought as he burst from the room and ran to the top of the tower. Looking out over the flats on the side of the cliff, he was in shock, and there was the sea splashing against the foot of the mountain. For the first time in 1000 years the bells rang above Deeprock Castle, and when he squinted, Lanix could see ships with black sails on the horizon.", "It'd been years since I'd been to the cliff. It's a nice quiet place, right on the edge of the village. It's a bit of a trek, but well worth it. Sitting on the edge of that cliff somehow made me feel invincible.\n\nMay walked over to sit beside me. We've gone out a couple times, but the one nice restaurant in town has steep prices. I decided a hike would be more fun. She seemed to agree; for most of the hike, she was four steps ahead.\n\n\"The view really is beautiful!\"\n\n\"Would I lie to you?\"\n\nShe laughed. I liked her laugh. Simple, sweet. The way the sunset caught her hair just made me stare in awe at her beauty. I have no idea why a gorgeous girl like her ended up in Middle-of-Nowhere-Ville. Our nearest grocery store is a gas station about 50 miles east. But I wasn't mad. She was right next to me. I had the opportunity. I don't know what 90's sitcom possessed me to do this, but I yawned and stretched my arm around her shoulder.\n\n\"Smooth move.\"\n\n\"I don't know what you mean.\" \n\n\"Yeah, right.\"\n\n\"I don't! I was just... stretching...\"\n\n\"Well then,\" she yawned as she put her arm around my waist, \"so am I.\"\nThe banter was going well. She was laughing, and I looked into her eyes. The way her eyes looked at me, I knew that was the signal. Should I kiss her? I thought, If I kiss her and it isn't the moment, will it be weird? I was psyching myself out. Just do it already! I was screaming inside my head. Okay. Lean in, and...\n\nShe looked away. Damn it! It was time to change tactics:\n\n\"That climb was killer,\" I said, effortlessly transforming my lean into a look over my shoulder.\n\n\"I've seen worse.\"\n\nThis conversation was like a minefield. Why couldn't it just be like in the movies?\n\n\"I used to climb up here all the time when I was little. I guess I'm just out of practice.\"\n\n\"Well, where I'm from, you have to climb a mountain just to get to school.\"\n\n\"Must be rough. At least you have a school, though. We have to drive up to--\"\n\nShe raised her hand to cut me off.\n\n\"What? What is it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Wind chimes!\" she cheered, \"I love wind chimes! My grandpa had some up on his porch back home! I used to jump up to hit them. Luke? Are you alright, luke?\"\n\nI was frozen in place. Completely shocked, I backed away from the cliff.\n\n\"Luke, what's going on?\"\n\n\"We have to go.\"\n\n\"What? Why?\"\n\n\"Quickly!\"\n\nI began running down the hill. She followed suit.\n\n\"Luke! What is happening?\"\n\n\"I have no clue. But it's not good!\"\n\n\"Did you see something?\"\n\n\"It's the wind chimes!\"\n\nShe didn't feel like questioning me further. We were stumbling down the long path through the woods, yelling back and forth to each other. I pulled out my phone to see if I had service. Of course, I didn't. The only cell tower in town is way far from where we were. I put my phone back in my pocket, but I missed and it fell to the ground. May was following close behind, but neither one of us stopped to pick it up. May had her phone, so I knew we would be fine.\n\nWe kept running, and we made it to the end of the woods. We still had a pretty large open field to cross before we made it to any civilization. We had to find one of the Elders, and fast. We make it across the field, and I'm out of breath. We sit on the side of the road to breathe for a second, or else we wouldn't have made it much farther.\n\n\"You kids stayin' safe?\"\n\nI shot up. It was Michael Heath, the local store clerk. Everyone just calls him Mick, though. He was driving out of town in his pick-up truck, probably to go and get more stuff for the shop. I came over to his car door.\n\n\"Hey Mick, I need a favor.\"\n\n\"What can I get you, son?\"\n\n\"A ride.\"\n\nWe got into his truck, and I told him about the wind chimes. He set his truck in gear, and turn right back around towards the middle of town. After we explained to him what was going on, May finally had enough.\n\n\"Okay, would someone please tell me what the hell is going on? I hear wind chimes and suddenly it's a life-or-death sprint down the hill? I'm tired, I'm sweaty, and I wore this stupid sundress because I don't know why! Just tell me SOMETHING!\"\n\n----\n\nIt would be a while before we got into town, so I decided to explain.\n\n\"Okay. So the wind chimes you heard. They... aren't normal wind chimes.\"\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n\"It's going to sound crazy, and it's all legend to me, but...\"\n\n\"Darling, those chimes haven't chimed since before I was born,\" Mick chimed in. \"The wind don't move them, and trust me, we've tried.\"\n\n\"And when they do chime... it means trouble. I don't know what kind of trouble. Just... trouble.\"\n\nMay looked at me, then at Mick. She saw the genuine fear in our eyes.\n\n\"If this is some twisted prank, I'll punch you, but I'll roll with it for now. What do we do?\"\n\n\"We go to the Elders.\"\n\n\"Is this some kind of Skyrim shit?\"\n\n\"Well, we call them the Elders because... Mick? Do you know?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Way back, before either of you were born and I was still a kid, our town was one of the Protectors. A grid of small villages all over the world that protect the world from the ancients.\"\n\n\"Who are the ancients?\" May said, almost angry. She clearly didn't believe anything we told her.\n\n\"Well, my memory ain't what it used to be, and I know for a fact that what I was told was more of a tall tale than a truth. But... from what I know the ancients are creatures as old as time itself. They're tricksters, and they are clever. They got all sorts of dangerous tricks they pull to get people killed. Scary as all get-out. If I'm remembering right, they hibernate for centuries. They have a lifespan we couldn't imagine, and they only show up once in a lifetime or two, just long enough for everyone to forget about 'em.\"\n\n\"And so, the chimes mean...\"\n\n\"I guess they're wakin' up.\"\n\nThe car was silent for the rest of the way into town. I was freaking out, and that is why I'm writing in this journal. All the things that my grandpa told me were true. I always thought that the Elders were just a bunch of old guys going out for bowling and bingo every Thursday because they were. But they did always preach about protection from the ancients. I thought it was more of the bullshit that old people like to tell you about to scare you-- like boogie monsters or credit scores. But now that those giant wind chimes surrounding the outskirts of the village were ringing, I have to hope that they knew what they were talking about. \n\nWell, that brings us up to now. I'm sitting in the backseat of a pick-up truck, writing in a little yellow-paged journal. I guess I'll stop here, and give an update whenever more shit happens. My heart is racing. To whoever reads this-- If I die in the next week or so, please edit this page to say that I kissed her.\n\n -- ~~𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓪𝓼~~ ~~𝓛𝓾𝓴𝓮~~ ~~𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓪𝓼 𝓙𝓸𝓱𝓷 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓹𝓮𝓻~~ 𝓛𝓾𝓴𝓮 𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓹𝓮𝓻, 𝓣𝔀𝓸 𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓮𝓷\n\n\n--------\n\nThat was a lot of fun to write! This was my first writing prompt thing, so feedback is appreciated. I may write a second installment if I'm bored in the future. If you can't tell by the piles of dialogue, I'm used to writing scripts. Thanks for taking the time to read it!" ]	2
[Wikipedia page for Elo Hell, for context.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elo_hell)	[WP] You are in Elo hell. Elo hell being an actual place where bad gamers go when they die.	[ "\"Ah c'mon! Look, I'm telling you I've changed! Just give me a chance, please.\"\n\nI shifted in my seat, thinking over Dom proposal. An eternity here and I found it never really got easier.\n\n\"I'm sorry Dom, but once a toxic player, always a toxic player. There's no way I can let you out of here.\"\n\n\"But what about you? You left once, you changed. \" \n\n\"Yes, I did leave once, but now I'm back and so now I know what I just told you better than anyone.\" \n\n\"You've got to be kidding me!\" Dom's tone quickly shifted from pleading to indignant.\n\n\"I don't belong here with these shit players! Trolls and wintraders, the lot of them!\"\n\nI let out a sigh, and cuffed my face in my palm. \"See what I mean Dom? You're just not ready to go back! Believe me, I know.\"\n\n\"So what if I flame a little? It's just banter man! How can you possibly put me on the same level as people who purposefully int or throw?!\"\n\n\"Justice is blind Dom. I don't care if you flame them, believe me, I've done my fair share of flaming too! How do you think I got stuck here in the first place?\"\n\nA glimmer of hope shone in Dom's eyes.\n\n\"But,\" I held up my hand, \"the moment you type that shit in chat, you become just as bad as them. You troll your team by wasting your time typing to them and ruining your mental, and you int yourself, causing nothing but tilt in both you AND your already pissed team mates.\"\n\nThat glimmer of hope faded from Dom's eyes, and in its place was left only anger and hate.\n\n\"What would you know about any of our struggles? There's no way you could ever know what it's like to lose a game cause some monkey tilts you and feeds the enemy team over and over! You-\"\n\nI sighed and pulled the lever sending Dom back to his cell. He clearly wasn't ready to be sent back. I sympathized with him though, I really did. Once upon a time I would've agreed with him too, but that was another life. Before I was cursed by the god Sanjuro to preside over the hearings of toxic players for the rest of eternity. \n\nThe judge shifted in his seat as he pulled out a list with the word \"INT\" crossed out on the top, replaced with an amended \"INTERS\". He crossed off the name IWillDominate and signed the date tried and then his name at the bottom: Tyler1. ", "“Elo Hell.” You repeated slowly.\n\n“Elo Hell.” The man in front of you confirmed. Well, the word ‘man’ was too general a term. The ghoul that floated in front of your eyes had been a man once, yes, but he was now a shade of his former self.\n\n“So...” You closed your eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. “I’m here because I’m just bad at League of Legends?”\n\nThe ghoul hesitated. “Not exactly. “\n\nA deadpan expression was all you gave him.\n\n“It’s like this.” He waved his transparent arms animatedly. “Elo Hell is where you end up if you want to get better at a game, but you end up hardstuck at a certain MMR instead.”\n\nHe pointed to himself. “Take me, for example. I was Silver in League, but I thought I was much higher ranked. Instead, I spent more than 2000 games in Silver 4.”\n\n“Oh.” Was the only thing you said. But then again, what else could you say to that.\n\n“And him,” the ghoul gestured to another spirit to his right. “He was Diamond 5, but thought he deserved Challenger, so he spent more than 4000 games in low Diamond. Do you kinda see the pattern?”\n\nYou nodded slowly, before pointing to a ghoul chained against a rock in the fiery abyss below. “And him?”\n\n“Oh, that’s Hitler.”\n\n“Hitler?!” You repeated incredulously.\n\n“Hitler.”\n\nYou looked at him, bewilderment leaking through your tone. “What game could he have possibly failed at? In fact, what game could he even play?”\n\nThe ghoul adopted a look of disgust. “Oh, he’s the worst one here. The ultimate blasphemer. You know how he rose to power?”\n\nYou nodded, still trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that Hitler was in Elo Hell.\n\n“Well, politics is kind of a game, except the people that live in your country are both your teammates and your enemies.”\n\n“Okay...?”\n\nThe ghoul looked at you then, sighing.\n\n“He flamed his team.”\n\nEdit: Changed joke with credit to my good friend u/armsdragon05\n" ]	2
	[WP] In this world, everyone has their own special 'talent' by birthright, such as making holes appear in the ground or the ability to fly.	[ "HanÈr Dynasty: March 18, 2087.\n\nFreedom Laboratory Entry#46\n\nResearch into the Legacy Gene is slow. The Chinese government has seized all of the scientific studies and research. At some point, after 2057 a new gene was discovered. The Legacy Gene endowed firstborns with supernatural powers. We still don't know how this gene developed but China's One-Child policy facilitated their rise to become a world superpower. The Allies do their best to keep these underground labs secret but the Chinese have a powerful intelligence network. Life is stressful and full of anxiety, I'm mainly writing these entries to keep me sane. There is hope; the Allies have been trying to create their own population of Legacy Children but the world's population is carefully monitored, all firstborn are confiscated by the government.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nAlyson stood within the small arena. Halfway up the wall was an observation deck where she could see the outlines of researchers and fellow classmates through the clouded glass. She eyed it with annoyance. Constantly being evaluated and watched was annoying. Her classmates thought it was a good idea to rank themselves. Each week, their teachers had them spar to help practice their abilities, and at the end of each week, everyone got together to reevaluate the tier list they had made. Alyson was at the bottom of the list. She had yet to develop powers normally present in children her age. Her thirteenth birthday had come and gone with no development. Five years later, for reasons she did not know, she was still allowed to live at the facility. Maybe they thought she was a late bloomer. She laughed at the thought. She had stopped growing at around the same time her classmates had developed their powers. Standing at one and a half meters in height she was by far the smallest person in their class. Henry, her sparring partner for this week, was two meters in height and ranked solidly in the top five of their class. He was born with superior strength and endurance. Everything about her life was a running joke at this point. Her only \"friend\" was the school nurse. Frequent visits had helped her develop a nice relationship with the much older man. He was kind and did not talk much, which was good for her because he basically doubled has her Psychiatrist.\n\nA loud buzzer sounded signaling for them to start the fight. Henry quickly closed the distance between them. He struck fast, his muscles allowing him to push past the limits of a normal human. Alyson barely dodged left not wanting to be forced to the edge of the arena. Alyson's small stature made it extremely difficult for Henry to land a solid blow. Alyson blocked another fury on strikes from Henry. Normally she'd try and tire her opponent but Henry had exceptional endurance. After a violent exchange of punches and kicks, Alyson was sent flying across the cold floor. Henry followed quickly and landed a powerful kick to her exposed abdomen. Alyson fell to her knees gasping for air.\n\n\"Stay down,\" Henry said. \"I don't want to hurt you.\" He turned his back towards Alyson and addressed the observers above, \"I won right?\" He yelled.\n\nNo response.\n\n\"I'm really sorry,\" Henry said as he turned back to face her.\n\nHe raised his fist in the air and brought it down towards Alyson's head. Expecting blackness, Alyson was surprised to find her body reacting seemingly on its own. She leaped backward a few meters from Henry in a crouched position dodging the blow. She was still exhausted and struggling to breathe but her body urged her to react anyway. Henry cocked his head and sported the same surprised expression Alyson did. He shrugged and made for Alyson again. This time Alyson knew what was going to happen. She instinctively reacted to what he was going to do. She blocked the jab and ducked under the hook. Frustrated at her persistence, Henry threw another combination of punches. Alyson saw what was going to happen next and dodged the series of blows. Alyson's mind was in overdrive; she dodged expertly. Henry's frustration was chipping away at his form. Alyson started to see openings to counter-attack. After a particularly fierce exchange, Henry lowered his guard to her right side. Alyson threw her entire body weight behind a right hook. It connected to his jaw with a crack forcing Henry to stubble back, face stunned. Pain erupted through her hand and wrist. The crack she had heard was not Henry's jaw but her fist. Alyson again found herself on her knees screaming in pain. \n\n______________________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe keyword in the prompt was inheritance and that triggered an idea in my head. I've been looking for a good starting point for a story and I think this is it. While a little Cliché I think it can work. I'm still really bad at grammar and other things (i wasted a lot of time at school) but I hope to at least continue this. Any advice is appreciated :D\n" ]	1
	[WP] One day, suddenly, all magnets cease to function.	[ "It's Saturday evening, and I'm walking through the kitchen to get our movie popcorn when suddenly the world goes dark.\n\nNot just dark, pitch dark, as if my optic nerves have been cut. And then there's a loud crashing noise in my left ear, and the hum of the air conditioning and other appliances goes away.\n\nDid I just have a stroke?\n\nBefore I've had time to think about it, Fran yells from the living room, \"Dave! I can't see!\"\n\n\"Me either, honey! Must be some kind of outage. Just stay where you are while I figure out what happened.\"\n\nI pull out my cell phone to use as a flashlight, but it's dead. Still, it's early in the evening, so there should still be some twilight, and there's nothing. No light, either natural or artificial.\n\nI reach into the junk drawer and fumble for a lighter. Finding it, I try to light it and it doesn't even spark--but I can hear the hiss of the butane. I hold it up to listen and--OW! The heat singes the flesh on my ear, and I drop the lighter. What the fuck?\n\n\"Dave, are you okay?\"\n\n\"Yeah, Fran,\" I stammer, \"just--just give me a minute to figure this out.\"\n\nOkay, Dave, you're an engineer. What the hell's going on? Neither you or Fran can see, so there's probably no light. But I couldn't see the lighter flame either. And there was that crashing sound to the left, when I was facing...\n\nThe fridge. It came from the direction of the fridge.\n\nI feel my way to the fridge and there's a crunch under my foot. I reach down and find a magnet. Several magnets. All the magnets.\n\nAnd it's cold. The fridge doors are both ajar. I test them, and they don't stay closed anymore.\n\nThe fridge magnets don't work anymore. The magnetic door seals don't work anymore. Magnetism doesn't work anymore.\n\nThe power company's generators and transformers depend on electromagnetism. They're all useless now.\n\nAnd electromagnetic waves consist of oscillating electric and magnetic fields. EM radiation doesn't work without magnetism.\n\nIncluding light.\n\nThe Sun can't light or warm the Earth anymore. But the Earth won't get cold because it can't radiate its heat into space, it can only move heat around with convection.\n\nSo the Earth's crust will eventually equalize with the mantle, which will equalize with the core...but unless I'm missing something, we'll all be dead before then.\n\nHoly shit, we're fucked.\n\n\"Dave?\" She's starting to sound scared now. This is on me. I have to do what I can.\n\n\"It's okay Fran. Hold on, I have a flashlight in my desk. Just sight tight while I go get it.\"\n\nIt takes me a few minutes to get back to her. I lost my shit when I got to the desk, but I'm okay now. I just have to hold it together for a few more minutes.\n\n\"Dave, is that you?\" she whispers, frightened.\n\n\"It's me, honey. The flashlight batteries were dead. \"I feel my way to the couch and sit down next to her, putting my left arm around her shoulder and hugging her tight. \"I'm just gonna sit here with you until the lights come back on. If it takes too long I can go get batteries from the garage.\"\n\n\"What's happening, Dave?\" She sounds better now.\n\n\"I'm sure it's nothing big, or we'd hear sirens.\" We didn't hear anything, actually, except for the crickets outside, who seem happy with the new situation. For the moment, anyway.\n\nWe cuddle this way for a minute or two. Even though it seems like an eternity, it's still not enough. Not nearly enough.\n\nI pull her closer, my hand moving up to stroke her hair. I need to know exactly where her head is if I'm going to get this right. I don't want her to suffer, not even for an instant.\n\n\"This is nice,\" she sighs as she leans into me. \"I hope the lights stay out for a little while.\"\n\n\"Me too,\" I say, my voice finally starting to crack, and I gently turn my beautiful, wonderful wife's face toward mine. \"I love you so much, sweetheart.\"\n\nAnd as I carefully aim the pistol, I kiss the love of my life for the last time.\n\nEdit: grammar\n" ]	1
	[WP] Gordon Ramsey critiques his own cooking thinking its someone elses	[ "It's not often I enter cooking competitions. But for some reason, this winter my wife forced me to sign up for some big one in NYC. If I'm bring frank, they only invited me because I'm famous. They want me to do my signature critiques, they want me to blow up on someone, and they want my raw emotion to boil over on some unfortunate soul.\n\nThat's fine with me - I'm used to it at this point.\n\nI've always loved food. You're probably not surprised by that. \n\nBut what may surprise you is that I, in fact, love food that are made by others, especially when it's original. I don't care if it tastes exquisite, or if it tingles the taste buds in the most pleasurable way. \n\nWhat I care more about is the story behind the creation. Why the cook chose to use the ingredients in this way, why was this particular spice chosen and not that, and why did he chose to cook that particular dish at this moment? \n\nThose are the questions which drive me. I couldn't care less if it tasted \"delicious\" or like \"culinary perfection\" or like \"the most perfect blend of flavors bursting in my mouth.\" Those words don't mean anything to me anymore. \n\nThose are words I use to put up this persona which gives me the opportunity to taste more artfully created, character-filled food.\n\nLike I said, I was forced to go to this one in NYC. It was a blind-test, and apparently they wanted me to review someone's cooking blind-folded and then critique it. \n\nI didn't expect much - I was going to submit, for my entry, a classic piece I always cooked up for commonplace competitions like this. But, for some reason, I felt like shaking it up a bit that day. \n\nI didn't go with my classic ole' faithful dish. Instead, I made something purely based on feeling. I chose ingredients with my gut feeling, and I shut my mind off and allowed my sense of touch to dictate the next moves. \n\nWhen I was done, I hadn't even noticed the time go by. \n\nI left my dish and went to the judging panel to be blind-folded. My eyes were wrapped in a silky smooth, black cloth and I was taken to the table, where I was given my first spoonful. \n\nIntense.\n\nNew.\n\nRich.\n\nWonderfully different.\n\nI couldn't believe it, but I thought to myself, at that moment, that it was the best meal I had ever eaten in my life. I knew in my gut that I had just bitten off a piece of heaven. \n\nThe character of the flavors. It was of a kind I had never tasted before. I wished I could create something as powerful as that bite. \n\nBut, I was losing control of myself. I had to compose my mind, and I cloaked myself with my \"personality.\"\n\nI ripped that dish apart. I insulted the very fiber of it's existence. I did what I was brought there to do, and I did a damn good job. And when I was finished, there was only silence. \n\n\"Mr. Ramsay,\" said the host, \"that was your very own meal.\" \n\nAnd you know what? \n\nI didn't feel angry. I didn't feel cheated, or lied to, or embarrassed. \n\nI only felt at peace. \n\nThere was no greater joy than knowing that I still had it. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You take an IQ quiz with your friends, and when it's over, you come out and they give you the results. Your IQ score is a perfect 300.	[ "They called me dumb, \n\nbeat me like a drum,\n\nsaid I was no better than a bum. \n\n\n\nI thought what the hell,\n\nit's not worth to dwell,\n\nI'll just take this test,\n\nit won't set off no bells.\n\n\n\nI clicked on the question\n\nfeeling a bit queasy,\n\nonly to realise this \n\nthis test was easy!\n\n\nThe test was a breeze\n\nwhich I completed with ease,\n\nto prove to my friends\n\nI can spell \"blue cheese\"\n" ]	1
	[WP] “Okay,” said Satan “You know you can’t get out of this, you’re deal and you sold your soul to me. I just gotta ask, was it worth it?”	[ "\"Was it worth it?\" The words echoed in my head. I took my eyes of Satan, the embodiment of all evil, and looked out the window onto the world. A world that I had personally helped design and build. I had shaped this planet and people into what I imagined their true potential was. I had united humanity under a singular goal. Because of that, there was no longer war. I ended world hunger and now no one has to starve or watch a love one suffer. I created a true universal healthcare system where everyone could actually receive the care they need instead of having to pay an arm and a leg to do so. I instilled a universal basic income so that the quest for unlimited amounts of wealth would end, and people could actually put their attention and focus towards their true passions. I have effectively quenched all crime so people will no longer have to live in fear. \"Was it worth it?\" The words continued to bounce throughout my concious. I turned back towards Satan, \"no, it was not. I could have done more.\" Satan smiled and raised his right hand, pulling his fingers together. It was a haunting spectacle but I couldn't seem to care. Maybe it was because I didn't have a soul. I closed my eyes, and heard a snap." ]	1
	[WP] The village idiot has lived a long life, so long that people are mistaking his inane ramblings for wise sayings and advice.	[ "“Now, you sir, what trade art thou?”\n\n“Why, sir, I am a mender of bad soles.”\n\nHe’s been walking around for years by now. Rambling, talking to himself. Everyone thinks he’s a genius, some sort of a prophet. But I know better.\n\nHis name’s Andy. He literally leaks that kind of aura, the one you see in people who’re just ‘weird’. Chatting with his inner demons, reciting Shakespeare... just a few of his hobbies.\n\nAnti-climactic as it is, I’m going to expose him. His sheer lack of respect of any form of normality is getting on my nerves. Everyone believes him. Everyone praises him as an Oracle. It’s plain STUPID.\n\nAnyways, I can do that too! Spout random words of ‘wisdom’, recite some old paragraphs about how tragic some forbidden love is, or even create some green smoke while I talk dramatically.\n\nI see through your plots Andy, you’re not going anywhere!\n\nI’m the real Oracle here!\n\n****\n\nPoor Brett was insane.\n\nHe’d managed to hide it pretty well in his younger years, but it began to show just how egotistical and paranoid he really was. Andy really was magical, blessed by the gods to be a foreteller of all events. His powers were not just free-flowing, however, they were also a responsibility. \n\nBrett, on the other hand, was hallicinatory. \n\nAnd, sadly, he had yet to realise it. He goes through life, jealous of the Oracle. He believes he is far stronger.\n\nAs we pan away from the poor man, we realise how harmonious the village is without him. \n\nAfter all, his trade is one of stirring shit.", "He once said “A bird in the hand is worth--” before stopping abruptly. Now every man, woman and even child walks around with a feathery friend in their hand. This had a profound effect on the effectiveness of the king’s army for one. Turns out it was quite hard to hold a bird while also holding a broadsword and a Heater shield. Although it did work out fine in the end. It just so happened no one wanted to fight an army of feathery suits of armour. An enemy general said, “People who are crazy enough to hold birds in their hands all day are probably not worth conquering.”\n\nHe sits at the top of the stairs to the castle. Hundreds of visitors come to him every day and tap him on the shoulder as is the tradition. The man then proceeds to foretell their destiny. The ancient man’s advice was responsible for numerous marriages, thrice as many divorces and the exponential increase in the salary of legal professionals.\n\nOne day a man came to the ancient man and tapped his shoulder. “Show me my place in this world,” he said. The ancient man felt annoyed that someone had tapped his shoulder for the hundredth time that day and pushed the man down the stairs. The man thanked the ancient one and can still be found lying at the bottom of the stairs.\n\nThey say all good things must come to an end, but the ancient one was not good, so he just lived forever, controlling the destiny of his people.", "Every day we gathered at dawn before the elders gave out duties, to hear the clairvoyant. He was ancient. Some claim he lived 30 winters, which was unheard of in the tribe. Others insisted his words come from the Afu-Ra, the great snake that eats the sun every evening. There were those that claimed his words are heresy and he should not be praised as a messenger of the gods, but the rules of the tribe were simple. He who lives the longest knows the most. So he leads the tribe. Ron-Mo inherited his position from his mother. His words are the law now. Even if his words send us to hunt mammoths in the swamps, and none returns. Even when his words tell us to gather fire with our hands, causing wounds, pain, death. Since he came to power, the tribe has lost many. Tonight, during the sacrifice, he just might trip and fall into the smoky pit, a path to the lands of Afu-Ra, where she will devour him forever. \n", "\"SAVE HER\" a disheveled old man moaned as he tottered nervously on the corner bedpost. \"I'm a doctor, not a magician. You need to calm down sir so I can work.\" The middle-aged physician was on edge. Normally an in and out sort of practitioner, today Dr. Alxeander Pie was more talkative. Known as a very calm and reticent man, this was the 4th strange case this month from the little village of Blodville and the good doctor was somewhere between vexed and exasperated as he would say, which is really just to say he was annoyed. \n\n\n First a young woman with an allergy to bees apparently brought about a severe case of anaphylaxic shock on herself when she released... a jar of bees. Her alleged purpose? To cure her allergy. A few days later a man needed treatment for what could only be described as an attempt to plant himself into the ground. Had his neighbor not come to say hello, who knows how long he would have stayed there. The week or more he had spent dug in like a tree had deprived him of water, so treatment for dehydration and sunburns were required. While a tale in its own right sprung from the 3rd case involving a green and yellow basket, the 4th one before him was the oddest of the lot. The husband of an elderly lady with severe bowel obstruction had telephoned Dr. Pie's clinic that she had not been able to defecate in days and her stomach kept growling. While an impacted bowel wasn't generally worthy of a house call, the extreme age of the woman and the specific details the good doctor would find out when he finally arrived made it quite necessary. Quite necessary indeed. \n\nA sharp groan escaped the woman, only under local anesthetic for about 15 minutes now due in part to a lack of forethought by Dr. Pie. \"It's done...\" sighed the relieved doctor as he sagged back in his chair and released the mangled furry body from his tired hands. As it hit the bottom of the bucket, a sharp ting* sounded from claws on metal. The older man looked at him with inquisitive eyes: \"So, did you save her? Is she okay?!\" The doctor looked over at the woman on the bed, the gore of the event still on the sheets that would need to be thrown out (maybe even burned). \"Your wife will be fine, thank God you called.\" \n\n\"Not HER. Fluffles! How is Fluffles\" the elderly man cried out. The odd look one could see on Dr. Pie's face at that moment reflected a need to lash out, but a severe lack of energy to do so. \"The cat's dead you st-. Mo-. Your cat was covered in digestive juices for hours Sir, it was dead when I got here.\" He was about to add a lie about the cat likely feeling no pain but thought better of it. \n\n\"No good God damned doctor\" the man spit like a cobra. \n\n\"Be happy your wife is alive...speaking of which, why the hell was a woman her age, or any age for that matter, trying to swallow a kitten whole?\" The two men made eye contact for a few seconds, each shifting their gaze over the other, judging, before the older man spoke. \"She did it to get the bird.\"\n\n\"The what? A bird?\" the doctor inquired, somehow amused by the absurdity of the whole thing. \"Yea,\" the older man replied, \"a canary we bought from the Fendersons over near the hillside.\" Less amused now, the doctor gave a retort: \"If you say she did it because she swallowed a fly I'm leaving.\" \n\n\"What are ya talking about? She didn't swallow no fly. She swallowed a black widow spider. The poisonous ones with the hour glass on their butt. Birds eat spiders stupid, or did you not know that.\" The doctor's mouth dropped a little as he looked toward the ceiling as if he was trying to get confirmation from God himself that, yes, he just heard that last sentence correctly. Dr. Alex Pie had basically just saved a nursery rhyme. \"And why, pray tell, did she think that was a good idea? \n\nThe man looped his thumbs around the strap of his tank top as he spoke \"The mayor. Smartest man in the area I'd say. We've had doctors come in, physisasists, chemical mumbojumbos...none of them know as much as him. Been her' longer than all of us and old as shit.\" Alex Pie talked with the old man for a while longer like this, he asking questions and the old man heaping praise by the barrel full on some \"mayor.\" While Dr. Pie had been practising in the area now for a year, he had never yet had reason to traverse Mt. Babo and visit the actual village. Often called the hillside by locales, the ridges of Mt. Babo seperated the small main village of Blodville from the farmers that surrounded it, making travel there an arduous task, and not exactly one a doctor used to suburbs and soccer moms would be comfortable with. Still, from what Alex gathered, all 4 of his recent cases likely originated from the words of this mayor. It was time Dr. Pie made another house call. ", "He wandered through the streets, his cracked voice echoing out with the rising of the dawn. He had been shunned for most of his life, his brain believed to have been infected by the fever that ravaged him as a babe. Now, in his ninetieth year, he had amassed a following, those eager to discern the secret to longevity from his cryptic verses. \n\n\"The onion smells!\" He bellowed under the town clock. \"Its smell scares off the Devil and disease\". \n\nThe next day Olaf the onion seller sold out of his stock within minutes. Within the small town you could see nobility and paupers alike, decorated with wreaths of pungent vegetation. Labourers grimaced as they ate their daily onion like an apple and wives recoiled as they smelt the breath of their husbands.\n\n\"The beasts do not fear their fangs becoming rotten!\" Screamed the senile soothsayer. \"They eat as we should and as God intended\". \n\nThe people shunned their cutlery and feasted by lowering their mouths directly to the meat in front of them. This led to particular problems with the onions. It was not unusual to see someone chasing their wayward medicine down the road as it rolled from their gnashing teeth. \n\n\"The fish does not fear disease!\" The eccentric elder proclaimed. \"Tis the water that keeps them pure. And it is the seas that will be Man's new home!\". \n\nThis was a bit much, thought the people but the old man had outlived everyone else by decades. They followed him to the docks while he rambled his sermons. An errant onion sped past him and plopped into the water. Without pause, the old man threw himself into the water with a yell of pure abandon.\n\nIt looks cold, murmured the people as they awaited his return. A few minutes passed and still there was no sign. The mutterings became ones of wonderment and the more devout began to divest themselves of their constricting land based clothing. The boldest, clad only in his under garments, stepped to the edge. He paused and pointed.\n\nA wrinkled body bobbed gently to the surface.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------\nr/AMSWrites" ]	5
	[WP] A day in the life of a citizen ruled by history's biggest totalitarian government: Disney.	[ "It all changed in the early fifties. A nasty coughing spell and a chance article on smoking led Walt Disney to start pouring money into the negative effects of smoking, and eventually cancer research, and by the decade's end, the Disney Medical Division (DMD) was on the cutting edge of new techniques and learning to preserve longevity. Big Tobacco was broken within 10 years, and cancer rates around the World plummeted. Walt built on this success, first creating Disney World, and then opening E.P.C.O.T. a few years later - strong and healthy after a series of rejuvenation treatments patented by DMD, Walt's new Progress City was so successful that the State of Florida petitioned to allow the Corporation to assume control of the state. Nearing 80, but still going strong, Walt and his team turned the state into a shining example of health and prosperity.\n\nWhen Congress attempted to intervene, and the Supreme Court ruled the new arrangement unconstitutional, Disney simply ignored it - and the people followed him. Within a year, a new pro-Disney Congress was elected, and as their first act drafted legislation to enact a constitutional amendment removing the Supreme Court. With the promise of Disney's Better Living Program for their states, the amendment passed overwhelmingly, with only a few states failing to secure a majority vote in favor of the Mouse.\n\nBy the time he was ninety, Disney ran the government of all 50 states, and had effectively assumed control over the country. Finally, near the turn of the century, and despite the best efforts of DMD, Walt succumbed to old age, but his legacy was secure. Portions of the Caribbean, Canada and Mexico were adopting the Disney models, and many smaller nations were petitioning to join the developing New World Order. While bastions of sovereign states remained in China, Russia, and India, they're ability to influence world events was quickly overshadowed by the New Disney.\n\nWith Walt's passing, leadership passed to the Board of Directors, and while the new leaders of the Free World embraced the ideals of Walt, they also saw the huge opportunity for profit, growth and expansion. All competition for Disney's services, parks, and entertainment disappeared overnight - made illegal and subsumed into the Disney corporate structure. By 2010, more than 60 &#37; of the world's population worked directly for Disney. By 2020, it is expected that Disney will have effective control over every world government. In more than half a century of rule, Disney has been the benevolent ruler the world needed, but there is growing concern in some corners that the House of Mouse is just too big and too powerful - with no checks besides their own consciousness, what will the Board do next? Only time will tell.", "\"Imagineer reporting for duty,\" said Earl at the entrance to the restaurant.\n\nHe'd been a dishwasher at Outback before Disney took over. He was a simple man. Now he worked at Disney. Everyone worked at Disney. It wasn't a bad life. Things were clean. Everyone was happy. \n\nThe Seven Dwarves were his co-workers. They kept the kitchen running in tiptop shape.\n\nDoc was the manager, Grumpy was the gruff co-manager. Sleepy was in charge of salads. Happy and Sneezy were on the grill. Bashful did saute'. And Dopey was in charge of keeping the place clean. \n\nEarl was the only Imagineer in the kitchen other than the Mexican immigrants Ramon, Silvano and Antonio, who did odd jobs like prep work and running the deep fryer. \n\n\"Ramon,\" barked Happy. \"Mas papas con queso, rapido!\"\n\nThe line was bustling with activity, the Seven Dwarves appearing as they had in the 1937 classic. \n\nFamilies came through and watched the kitchen activity, the kids pointing and learning. The parents looked amused.\n\nThe dwarves sang songs as they worked, doing tricks with their utensils and the food they prepared. \n\nThe kids always pointed at Earl and the Mexicans, no doubt asking who these intruders were. \n\nAt the end of the night Earl washed the rotten food off his shoes, emptied the garbage in the back of the restaurant, signed off with a Goofy 'Hee-yuck' into the voice recognition software that allowed him to leave the restaurant, and went home to his apartment where he ate mac and cheese or Spaghetti-O's or some other such food heated in his Disney microwave. He watched Disneyflix and fell asleep in his Disneybed, getting up the following day to do it all again. \n\n/r/adriencarver " ]	2
	[WP] A necromancer resurrects the bodies in a cemetery, but unfortunately this was the resting place of Renauld Ironshield, slayer of undead.	[ "A small dwarven skeleton adorned in holy armour, evidently an old paladin of Erudia, rises from his small stone casket in the back of the small cemetery. \n\n“A fuck, looks like another damn necro” Renauld was ticked off, this wasn’t the first time a necro had a been to his cemetery.\n\nAs he picked up his axe he noticed 3 corpses walking towards the necromancer, “damn this, another wee necro who doesnae even know how tae control the undead..”\n\nWith a flourish and three quick swings the dwarven skeleton dispatched the three nearest corpses, he hadn’t even realised his left arm was missing.\n\n“Oi big man, are ya gonnae stop this wee summonin’ farce or am a gonnae have tae get up there and stop ya on ma own?” Renauld slammed his axe into the ground sending a small light burst in all directions around him, removing the rest of the weak undead from their brief foray into undeath. Bending down he grabbed his left arm and shoved it back into his shoulder.\n\n“A guess yer wonderin’ why ye cannae control me, a won’t tell ya, paladin secret” with a tilt of his bony head and a small tap on the golden circlet adorning his head he continued his approach towards the novice necromancer, not forgetting to pick up his trusty battle axe on the way.\n\nAs he reached the cowering necromancer, a small dark elf, he heard a small wavering voice say “I am the great necromancer Culdor the Unholy, obey my commands pathetic dwarf or I will banish you back to your death”\n“Matey, if you did that a would be happy, but ya woke me up an’ now yer gonnae have tae die”\n\nAfter 2 steps forwards and a quick swing of his axe the necromancer was no more. Renauld hobbled back to his casket as the necromancer’s spell wore off, small bones dropping off his hands, before laying down in his grave with a sigh (at least as much of a sigh as a skeleton can muster) “hopefully next time it’s more fun” his voice naught but a whisper as the small glow in his eyes flickered to nothingness..." ]	1
	[WP] "There is a special place in Heaven, reserved for the 'dutiful' Those who knowingly doom themselves to save many others. Soldiers who jump on grenades, Captains who went down with the ship, firefighters who charged into the inferno. Welcome." "But... What did I do?"	[ "\"But... what did I do?\" I asked, genuinely confused. The last thing I remembered was choking on the stale crust of 3-day old pizza. And now I'm some kind of hero? There had to be a mistake.\n\n\"Throughout your life, you put others ahead of yourself.\" The celestial being made of light told me with a terrifying, booming voice. \n\n\"I did?\" I asked.\n\n\"A vast majority of the choices you made throughout your life allowed others to excel in one way or another, at the cost of your own fortune and happiness.\" The god-thing explained.\n\n\"Are you serious?\" I asked. I was stunned. I couldn't recall a conscious moment in my life where I sacrificed anything. I was just in love with my own pathetic misery. I had gotten so used to failure, so accustomed to defeat, that it had become all I knew.\n\n\"Did you not reject the promising internship, and promptly offer it to your friend Steve, instead?\" The voice asked. That did happen, but it wasn't because I thought he deserved it more than I did. Well, he did deserve it more than I did, and his career really took off as a result of the experience he had there. But I rejected it because I literally couldn't afford to do it, and part of me resented Steve afterward. I was such a loser. \n\n\"Well, yeah, but--\" \n\n\"Did you not buy your family breakfast on Christmas morning when you were eighteen?\" The heavens echoed. I did, because my mom asked me to. I was excited to drive since my loser-ass had only recently acquired a license. Plus, it's not as if I didn't get to eat that day.\n\n\"Sure, but--\"\n\n\"Was it not you who helped your friend Sarah change her flat tire early in the morning so that she didn't have to take the bus to work?\" asked the shimmering orb of pure energy. I did do that, but I was also in love with that girl, and had been for years, secretly. In the end, she took advantage of that, and discarded me in a pretty cruel way.\n\n\"Actually, yeah, thanks for reminding me about that.\" I agreed. I started to look around that heaven place, feeling like I might belong there after all. \n\n\\----------\n\n\"So what happened? Why are you here, instead?\" The apple-red, black-horned gatekeeper of hell asked. Lava bubbled near his feet.\n\n\"Well, after about a million more questions they kind of realized that I was just an apathetic fuck, and that while my choices did benefit others, it was a result of luck more than intention.\" I shrugged, looking around the horrific, burning, yet dark, cavern. \"So when do I meet this Satan guy?\"\n\n\"Why didn't you lie, and tell them what they wanted to hear?\" The snarling demon asked, ignoring my question.\n\n\"I don't know, it didn't seem like the right thing to do.\" I said, feeling a concoction of sadness and pride rise in my throat. \n\nJust then, the demon vanished, the boiling lava turned into a glimmering stream of celestial water, and the darkness and fire of hell gave way to a backdrop of beautiful multi-colored light. all of my sadness, frustration, resentment, anger, it all vanished, and I felt my soul sprawl out in the warmth. Every part of me was complete, and basked in eternal bliss. ", "There was a mirror in the room that reflected dust from the windows and the stilted light that came in. He saw himself in its reflection and he also saw past himself. He looked at the film of dirt and black marks upon the mirror and wondered how old it must be.\n\n\nHe wore a suit that he had never owned and it was a shadow in the dark room. There was music outside and he listened hard but he could not understand it. It floated beyond his ears and he could only feel it in a ghostly way.\n\n\nHe stared at the mirror and looked at himself.\n\n\nTo be insulted by these fascists is so degrading.\n\n\nHe wondered where he had heard that before. \n\n\nDoes that make me a bad person?\n\n\nAnd he thought, yes, he must be a bad person, for he had never asked himself that question before.\n\n\nThe door opened and there was tepid light flooding in. The light hardly reached him and he saw more dust motes dancing in the air. A beautiful woman looked at him. She was older than him, a perpetual thirty, and she had a kindness about her and he had never seen her before.\n\n\n\"You are awake,\" she said.\n\n\n\"Where am I?\"\n\n\n\"This is the last outpost. We call it the Crossroads. Here is the last meeting place of both our worlds.\"\n\n\n\"I don't understand. where am I? Am I under arrest? What has happened?\"\n\n\n\"Look outside, if you will. You might understand then.\"\n\n\nThe window was yellow from light, a blinding hole from an outside that did not want to be seen.\n\n\nScary monsters and super creeps keep me running scared.\n\n\nHe blinked the thought away and looked out the window. There were people outside dressed in black and sitting in folding chairs and there was a priest beside a casket. He knew he was inside that casket. \n\n\n\"What is...\"\n\n\n\"You know what has happened. It will take some time to digest, I'm sure. But please, we have so much to do.\"\n\n\n\"No... No...\"\n\n\nHe remembered something he had read on dreaming. It was called lucid dreaming. That was when you knew you were in a dream and then you could control it. He had tried to induce them many times before. \n\n\nI am dreaming. I am dreaming.\n\n\nHe forced the dream to change but nothing changed and he was in the room with the woman and there was dust about and a feeling of dread overcame him.\n\n\nI'm dead.\n\n\nThen others in his mind:\n\n\nGood. Scum like you should die.\n\n\nHe looked at the woman. Her kindness belied an easy attractiveness about her, a dangerous kind that told him she was sharp and prepared.\n\n\nJust like every woman, he thought. You can't trust them even in a dream.\n\n\nHis heart hurt. Or maybe that was yearning, an emptiness that he mistook for his heart.\n\n\n\"I am in hell,\" he said.\n\n\nThe woman smiled and came closer.\n\n\n\"I know why you would think that,\" she said. \"But no. we're in the other place.\"\n\n\n\"This doesn't look like Heaven.\"\n\n\n\"Well this is an outpost, and this outpost is rarely used. You must excuse its condition.\"\n\n\nAround him were dark wooden furniture, a bed for resting that was well loved, and there paintings on the wall of nostalgic Americana.\n\n\n\"What's going on? This is hell. It has to be.\"\n\n\n\"So you admit you were wrong in your ideology?\"\n\n\n\"I admit that everyone told me it was wrong. People these days can't handle the blunt truth.\"\n\n\n\"And what's that?\"\n\n\n\"That the strong survives and the weak must die.\"\n\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\nHe was shaking.\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\"And yet we're here.\"\n\n\nIn the mirror he saw himself and the woman. The image was a comedy with him next to her. He saw the marks on his face, the years of unkind genetics and the apathy that fostered it. \n\n\nI could look better.\n\n\nThat hurt him badly.\n\n\nI could have tried more.\n\n\nShe stared at him with some confidence that he was unaccustomed to.\n\n\n\"I was right then, if I am in Heaven. Our thinking is right. There is a Master Race.\"\n\n\nShe smiled at him with a patience that made him angry and afraid.\n\n\n\"You're a hero,\" she said. \"You'll even get your own special place in Heaven. This is why we came to this outpost. The way is hardly used, but sometimes we get someone worthy.\"\n\n\n\"I was right then?\"\n\n\n\"You are a weak man,\" she said. \"Look out that window and tell me if you were right.\"\n\n\nMourning him were his kind. They were a scant few and he was embarrassed by them. When he was alive, he had thought them brave and outlaws. They were outcasts and nothing more.\n\n\n\"This is a joke. I am in Hell. This is a cruel joke.\"\n\n\n\"Is it?\"\n\n\nHe looked at his hands and they were shaking.\n\n\nTo be insulted by these fascists is so degrading.\n\n\nIt was coming to him. what was that girl's name he wondered? Was it she who had pushed him, or was she merely the last in an inevitable conclusion?\n\n\n\"Her name was Amanda,\" said the woman beside him. \"But she told you her name was Anne. She didn't like you very much and thought you were a fascist.\"\n\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\nThe woman shrugged.\n\n\nHe remembered he was crying. He had the gun in his hands and there was vengeance in that weight. He listened to that song. She had mocked him with its words and he had listened to it to hurt himself and culture that self pity he had thrived on.\n\n\nTo be insulted by these fascists is so degrading!\n\n\nHe wondered what he had called her.\n\n\n\"You called her an animal when she would not go out with you,\" said the woman. \"She did not cry as you hoped she would. She mocked you with that line.\"\n\n\n\"And I listened to the song.\"\n\n\n\"You searched the internet for it in your obsession.\"\n\n\n\"And I planned to...\"\n\n\n\"Yes, you planned to do it. To really do it this time.\"\n\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\n\"I don't know. You don't know. Maybe a mall or a street. Anywhere there were people.\"\n\n\nHe could feel the weight of the gun in his hand.\n\n\n\"This is Hell,\" he said.\n\n\n\"No,\" she said. \"This is Heaven.\"\n\n\n\"There is no Master Race. You think I am a loser like they all did when I was alive.\"\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\"Then this is Hell.\"\n\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\n\"How? And why?\"\n\n\n\"Because you did not do it. You hadn't the heart to do it. Like all your kind, you were a coward at the end.\"\n\n\n\"So what did I do?\"\n\n\n\"You know what you did.\"\n\n\nThe moment was blacked out in his mind. Like the music outside, he could only sense it in a ephemeral way. But he knew what had happened. There was purpose against his skull. The gun was cold and he trembled and nothing had seemed so harder than to breathe and commit to what he did not really want to do.\n\n\nBut I did want to.\n\n\n\"Yes,\" the woman said. \"You did. And you did do it.\"\n\n\n\"I killed myself.\"\n\n\n\"Yes. And as a result you saved many. Your life was an abyss for others to be ensnared in.\"\n\n\n\"So you reward me with eternity in Heaven?\"\n\n\nSuddenly he was glad and he felt righteous. But the woman was bigger than him, as though her shadow would engulf him. He wondered what angel could she be.\n\n\n\"It is not an angel that you fear,\" she said. \"It is a woman.\"\n\n\nAnd he was breathing hard.\n\n\n\"I am in Heaven,\" he said. \"You said so yourself.\"\n\n\n\"Yes. You are in Heaven. But for you it will be Hell. You will find that there are not many like you in here. All your brethren shall be in Hell. Here you will be the outcast you always were. Here you will live in a house of boredom, forgotten as the dust, another piece of furniture for the mirror to reflect.\"\n\n\n\"No,\" he said.\n\n\n\"Yes,\" she said.\n\n\nAnd then:\n\n\n\"Your funeral is almost over. Look well at those faces for they are the living. When we leave this place you will never see them again.\"\n\n\nHe looked outside and the gathered was thinning. People he did not know paid half baked respects. Little kin was there, and they wore dead faces, hopeless faces that tried to make peace with what he had been and what he had ultimately become.\n\n\nNothing, he thought.\n\n\n\"Yes,\" said the woman. \"And so shall you always be.\"\n\n\n-\n\n\nHi there! If you liked this story, then you might want to check out my subreddit, r/PanMan. It has all my WP stories, including some un-prompted ones. Check it out if you can, and thanks for the support!" ]	2
	[WP] You are part of the time travel police, today is your first shift and it's at the assassination of JFK.	[ "\"Alright rookie. Lets go over the situation.\"\n\n\"Standard PTLC Violation, right?\"\n\n\"Code number is...\"\n\n\"... 60?\"\n\n\"63.\"\n\n\"Frick.\"\n\n\"Its alright kid, pretty much everyone at the TPA makes the same mistake. Honestly, the actual code violation numbers aren't a huge deal to remember. If all else fails, after you make your arrest just double check your copy of the regs in the glove compartment.\"\n\n\"Right. Important thing is to make sure history doesn't get changed.\"\n\n\"Exactly. Serve and protect.\"\n\n\"So is this kind of .. an unusual thing?\"\n\n\"Nahh. We have about as many Chrono-cons in a week trying to stop JFK from getting shot as we do getting fresh donuts back at the office. Everyone seems to think the world would have been better with ol Jacky-boy pushing air for another few decades.\"\n\n\"Anyone succeed?\"\n\n\"A couple. Nothing the TRRC can't fix, mind you.\"\n\n\"TRRC?\"\n\n\"Temporal Restruction and Restoration Corps. Back at the station we call them 'The Mops.'\"\n\n\"So what happens?... you know.. when Kennedy lives?\"\n\n\"Depends on the deviation. It never gets better though. World War 3 and then 4, Vietnam lasting twenty extra years, a viral outbreak of a mutated smallpox that kills 73% of the global population...\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\".. yeah, he comes back in one variation that I've seen too. That doesn't go well. The second resurrection involved a lot of chainsaw murder.\"\n\n\"... I .. what?\"\n\n\"Trust me, you don't wanna know. My drycleaning bill for that shift must have been at least a grand. I still say they should cover it.\"\n\n\"Well, it can't always be totally bad though can it?\"\n\n\"Kid, time deviations are against the law for a reason. I mean, even if there was the one timeline caused by saving Kennedy that resulted in Night Court lasting an extra five seasons..\"\n\n\"I love that show!!\"\n\n\"Right??? 'course it didn't matter because of the Nuclear holocaust that happened shortly after but.... bottom line is, things happen for a reason. And our job is to make sure that they stay that way.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You live simple but happy life. You're fisherman, as were your father, his father, etc. Your dad died several years ago. This evening you are going through his belongings. Suddenly, you discover something unusual: A very old piece of paper with a fish symbol on it... Drawn with blood.	[ "You flip over the cryptic paper and on the back are a set a runes, drawn with an oozing liquid. The ink does not drip or streak, but it looks wet to the eye. When you reach out to touch a runic symbol some of the \"ink\" comes off on your fingertip and where it touches burns like a hot candle. \n\nYou are on your fishing boat and house boat, the same strange, combined vessel your father lived in, the same his father built by hand a century ago. You wash your finger calmly in the salty waters of the bay and watch as the strange ink flows off your finger into the water in streams. Ribbons of ink coalesce in the water before you, much more, impossibly more ink then was on your finger. \n\nAs you watch the still waters fill with symbols in ink, the same symbols on the the back of the blood image of a fish. Except now, inexplicably, you find you can read them. \n\nYou say aloud, on the stern edge of your boat, \"Karathu, Egpora, Jyanatee.\"\n\nYou finish the final word and shake your head as if casting off a spell. The world brightens around you, a fog clears, and only then do you realize the fog was there in the first place. \n\nAll at once, in a fifty meter circle around your boat, the water begins to bubble. You lean over the edge of the ship and look down into the roiling bluegreen of the bay and hot steam hits your face. You realizs the water is beginning to boil. Terrified you try to get to the dock but your tether has come undone somehow and your ship has floated far away. Impossibly far, impossibly quickly. The dock is almost a half mile in the distance. \n\nAs you reel from this discovery the ship rocks to one side, dangerously, taking on water as it does so. You attempt to avoid the splashing water, terrified of being scalded, but some of it hits you on your bare arm and you find it is ice cold bay water again - except it's color is off. It leaves a ruddy stain where it touches. You lean down to smell your forearm and a waft of bloody iron assaults your nostrils. \n\nYou look up and the water, as far as you can see out to the mouth of ocean is blood red and thick. It sloshes against the sides of your ship, rising in heavy glops, denser than sea water. The smell of iron is strong in the air around you and you heave, the first of your long line of fisherman family ever to lose their stomach on a boat. \n\nAs you wipe your mouth clean, a noise garners your attention from the other side of the ship. You straighten out and slowly make your way around the central living space until your view is clear. \n\nA fish, larger than two school buses, stands beside the boat. It's scaly blue skin shines, unstained by the bloody waters. Its fins expand majestically to the side of its body, each as large as a small sedan. It faces you so that its giant left eyeball faces you. Aside from its bizarre size and behavior it is in every respect a normal looking fish, its eye dead and unmoving. \n\nAlthough the fish does not change at all you hear a bass rumble begin from its direction, and then the same runic language fills the air. \n\n\"Latzia kra gratoon, pajul?\"\n\nYou find, to your astonishment that you understand every word. You respond in English. \n\n\"I didn't mean to. What are you?\n\nThe fish does not move. \n\n\"Sor da Hajecra Pestal. Damm at fer pajul acrat mé.\"\n\nThe Fish King, Doom to the sea hunter who encounters me. The words translate in your head seamlessly. Then the Fish King begins to vibrate and an energy grows at his single exposed eye, a small pulsing ball of power. \n\nYou have a terrible feeling of impending doom. The Fish King speaks again. \"Krak, pajul.\"\n\nDie, sea hunter.\n\nThe energy begins to coalesce into a solid ball of light and in a split second decision you take the blood illustration you found in your father's trunk and hold it up in front of you.\n\nAn earsplitting sound emanates from everywhere at once, sending you to your knees on the deck. You cover you ears and find it does nothing. The Fish King leaps high into the air and fires a beam of pure purple energy into the dostant sea, leaving behind a vapor cloud so huge that it coalesces almost immediately into a summer storm, filling the expansive blue sky, blocking the sun and bringing a cool rain. \n\nYou stand just in time to see the Fish King dive into the sea without so much as a splash. He does not reappear, but you hear the bass rumble of runic speak from the ocean deep. Your mind trabslates it by means you do not understand. \n\nThe blood pact continues, descendant of the Sea Hunter Prince. \n\nThe voice disappears and as you watch the rain clouds part, the sea turns to water again and the dock reappears right beside the ship, as though revealed from a dense fog. \n\nAstonished, confused, you look down at the paper and, after a moment, fold it very neatly into squares and hide it back deep in your fathers chest. \n\nAs you go back to the deck to get some fresh air, you hear a rumble coming from inside you vessel. You listen carefully, follow the sound, and find that it's coming from the catch freezer. \n\nWhen you open the trapdoor leading in, a fish leaps out at you. A gorgeous sea bass, round about the middle and with a perfect blue sheen. You stare at it in amazement. You have not been fishing in a week and there have not been sea bass in these waters for a generation. \n\nAstounded you stand there holding the fish in both hands even as a dozen others squeeze out of the packed hold and dance their asphyxiating ballet all over the deck of your father's father's ship.\n\n\n\n******\n\n## r/LFTM\n" ]	1
	[WP] In a world where everyone is born with very specific powers that may or may not be good like being better at driving in the rain or always closing a sale on the first try, you have the very rare power of having every fortune you get from a fortune cookie come true once you reach 18 years of age	[ "\"So, Mr. Cooper,\" Said Brandon, \"how did you end up here?\"\n\n\"Well, Brandon, it is actually very simple: I tailored my life and career around my power. I made sure to put myself in situations where my powers would be most useful. My power is that the fortunes I get from fortune cookies will always come trues. It's quite simple, isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes, but more complex than mine.\"\n\n\"And what is your power, exactly?\"\n\n\"I can make anything into a balloon toy.\"\n\n\"And does your life depend on your power?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"I assume that nobody screwed you over? You're in here for a different reason?\"\n\n\"White collar crime.\"\n\n\"Well, Brandon, I got screwed over.\"\n\nAnd so Mr. Cooper began his tale.\n\n\"When I first found out about my power, I instantly realized how easy it would be to manipulate it. I could bake my own fortune cookies and choose my own fate. I thought it would be easy, and it was. I baked my way to fame and success. I knew that if I simply conjured money from thin air, people would smell something fishy going on. This is why I instead decided that I would write fortunes related to the stock market. They would say things like 'buy this company's shares and sell then in a week to gain ten thousand in profits!'. I rarely used this power at first, doing this only when I needed extra money to afford rent or something, but I quickly started abusing it. The catch was that the fortunes couldn't just directly influence the market, they had to affect a non-price factor that would cause the price to rise or fall. I learned this the hard way, when I wrote a fortune saying that the stocks of an airline company would skyrocket in price. This fortune came true when one of the rival company's planes was hijacked, two went missing, and the last exploded on takeoff.\n\"When I already became a millionaire, I had to keep using the fortune cookies. I would read one fortune every day, and I had others do the baking for me. Everything went according to plan, all the fortunes came true and bent the stock market to my favor. Then one day, I sat down with a cup of tea and a fortune cookie. I cracked it open, and started unraveling the piece of paper inside. And, when I could finally read it, I saw a fortune that worked against me: 'You will be arrested and imprisoned for life.' That is how I ended up here.\"\n\nBrandon was appalled by what he just heard. \"Wow.... Why would that fortune be there?\"\n\nMr. Cooper looked at him. The man's face was dead serious. \"Someone sabotaged me. I don't know who, but they paid off one of the bakers to slip this fortune into a batch of cookies. Perhaps one of the people who was harmed by my stock market manipulation. I guess I'll find out soon enough.\"\n\nBrandon's face wasn't much happier than Mr. Cooper's. \"This isn't a movie. You don't break out of prison easily.\"\n\nMr. Cooper didn't seem impacted by Brandon's claim. \"Tell me, Brandon, do your balloon toys adopt the properties of what they are supposed to look like.\"\n\n\"Only inanimate objects. I once grilled a steak on a balloon toy pan.\"\n\n\"Can you make me a fortune cookie?\"\n\n---------------------------------\n\nThanks for reading, feedback and criticism is appreciated.\n\nI don't have a sub, but all my prompt responses are available on my profile." ]	1
This WP is from someone else's actual experience in another subreddit.	[WP] So a week and a half ago I saved a baby deer from traffic. Today I saved a baby deer from my neighbors dogs in my back yard. This is getting weird.	[ "They say twice is a coincidence. But three times is a pattern. And as Anthony stood there, with a second quivering mass in his arms, the little body a warm sack of awkwardly long bones he will one day grow into, the human started to wonder if he had missed something. Scanning the yard and the tree line beyond, there seemed to be no mother around for the tiny fellow. The man sighed, keeping the fawn close to his chest. \"Come on then,\" he said scratching the tiny head, and carried the baby deer into the house. \n\n\"Dude! Turn around!\" Anthony looked up to see his buddy Jay standing there ready to snap a photo. Click. And it was traveling into the ether.\n\nThe next few days, Anthony rose at the ungodly hour one can expect to see deer loping through the yard, picking at the vegetable garden. Not a single one emerged. The little deer from the night before had grown attached to the Venom t-shirt he had been wearing, and cried non-stop until Anthony wrapped it around him again. Ironic that the tiny, helpless animal sought comfort in his piece of clothing depicting a predator. But, perhaps it just liked Anthony's scent.\n\nOver a week, Anthony waited for a mother or a herd to show up. Even waiting outside with the baby deer and allowing him to cry for a short while, in hopes that his kind would hear it. No such luck. He could have taken it to the Humane Society and been done with it. \n But everytime those huge black eyes stared up at him, begging to be named and loved forever, Anthony couldn't do it. On the tenth morning, he sighed again.\n\n\"Fine,\" he told the little deer, as he bottle fed him more formula. \"You can stay. We'll call you...\" Anthony casted about. He saved the deer on Independence Day, so he was Lucky and Free. He was a little Miracle too, though maybe that named sounded more female. But then, what was wrong with Buck, or Bucky even? The huge black eyes continued to stare up at him as if he were made of magic, Venom t-shirt still there, covered in loose fur. Anthony had it. \"What about Marvel?\" The fawn made a noise and went back to suckling. \"Good enough for me. Marvel it is.\"\n\nThree years Anthony cared for his deer friend. Once Marvel was too big for the dog bed he slept on in the house, Anthony spent weeks making a custom pen for his furry son. As always, the Venom t-shirt had to stay with him, but had gotten old and a little ripped. Anthony fashioned what there was into a kind of bandana and tied it around Marvel's thickening neck. The old shirt billowed like a cape whenever he ran across the yard, making Anthony smile at the idea of Marvel being a Super Deer.\n\nSometimes, Marvel would venture into the woods for a few hours. The first time he did this, Anthony's heart nearly stopped. But, Marvel always returned. Anthony took him with him to the park, or on hikes. People were always impressed with how comfortable Marvel was with people, but how could this gorgeous creature not out-show every Labradoodle in town.\n\nEven though Anthony hoped to keep Marvel forever, he knew he could not. His excursions into the woods lasted longer and longer. Then, in October, rutting season, Anthony sat on the porch with his deer one evening. Marvel had his head rested on Anthony's lap as his human enjoyed a beer. Anthony stroked his big head with the hand on which he had gotten a tattoo of Marvel's hoof print last week. It looked really good out here in the twilight. The yard was mostly silent until Marvel sat straight up. \"What is it?\" the human asked. Anthony went in the house for a shot gun, fearing coyotes. He returned to see Marvel stepping cautiously toward something in the bush. There emerged a doe, and the two nosed each other, saying hello in deerish. Anthony smiled. \"My boy's first date.\" Marvel looked back at Anthony, giant black eyes blinking as if he thought the human were made of magic. Anthony knew this day would come. He set down the shotgun and waved. \"Go on then, boy.\"\n\nMarvel did not return, as his human feared he wouldn't.\n\nThe next summer came, and Anthony had done everything to put Marvel out of his mind. But it was difficult. Half the pictures on his phone were of him, all the modifications he had made to the house for Marvel were still there. He thought he may never get over him. But, life must go on. His buddy Jay had invited Anthony over for the 4th and he piled into the truck, a little forlorn there was no longer a reason to hitch an animal trailer onto the back and put his deer in it. He drove down the road, that hoof print tattoo shining bright as he turned the wheel.\n\nAnthony was barely paying attention as something brown streaked out in front of him and he had to slam the breaks. He didn't feel the wheels bump over anything, but he had to get out and check. On the ground, cowering between the front two tires of the truck, was a baby deer. It seemed scared but unharmed and unwilling to move. Anthony pulled it out with little protest from the creature. Poor thing. But, there was something off about its color though. A darker patch on it's back caught Anthony's eye. It looked like a black cape. ...Couldn't be. His heart raced as he looked across the feild for the fawn's mother. She was there, huge eyed and concerned for her baby. And stalking over to join them, majestic as ever was a buck with a black circle of t-shirt still around its neck. \n\n\"...No way...\"", "A coincidence? Probably, I thought. I mean, I lived in a half-barren countryside neighborhood. \n\n“Watch out for the deer,” my concerned mother always suggested as I walked from my front door to my car at night. \n\nI wasn’t surprised when I rescued my first fawn that year. Wide-eyed, terrified, on the side of my town’s busiest street. A strange, fleeting feeling came to me as I held my hand on the fawn’s cold back in my passenger seat. \n\nA week and a half later, I peered out my bedroom window to find another shivering baby at the will of my neighbor’s snarling Rottweiler, separated only by a disheveled wooden fence. \n\nMy mother snapped a photo of the deer in my arms, and with the flash of her camera, the strange feeling overcame me once more. It was a yearning feeling, and for a split second, my vision was no longer mine. I saw only trees, and heard the faint sound of a shotgun cocking in the distance.\n\nFor many months following, this feeling became part of my daily routine. At one point in the day—it was always random—I’d be drowned in a feeling of guilt and longing, and I’d just drive. Some force would engrave a map inside my head, and the destination of my route was always a small, brown, spotted friend in immediate need. I’d greet the veterinary technicians with a smile, and they’d get the little ones patched up and back out into the forest. \n\nI lost track of how many fawns I’d rescued—fifty-five? Fifty-seven? I was certain that I had picked up the same one a few times in a row, at one point.\nI followed the same regimen for these months—feeling, driving, rescuing—until the last day of summer.\nI went to sleep that night, wondering about my purpose. Why me? I hadn’t had a particular fondness for deer before this year. Why now? I drifted asleep. Then...\n\nForest. Tall trees. My home. I was a mother deer. I felt the power of my children following my every move. And gunshots. Sprinting. One more, and blackness.\n\nI jutted awake, gasping as if I was breathing for the first time. I knew, I remembered. I was the mother of three fawns, and I was taken from them. \nI didn’t know how, but that day, I knew my role in this life, and in the ones after. \n\nI would protect my young.\n", "There are tales of a great being who watches over the living creatures. A savior that braves any risk, will take on any situation, will be there whenever they are needed.\n\n\"I heard he took on the vicious beasts that kill for sport!\" Tells one so saved. \"Without hesitation he fought them off, even though they snarled and bit and foamed with rage. He braved wounds and even death itself to rescue the weakest among us!\"\n\nFriends, family, I tell you this is the truth!\n\nWith my own eyes I watched our savior halt the metal tide that has claimed so many, without fear! It is hard to find meaning in so many deaths, there are questions we are left with whenever we are touched by it. But today? Today we celebrate life! We celebrate the savior of our kind! And we give thanks.\n\nThis world may celebrate Him but they have made a mistake, a simple mistake. Just one letter! How such a small difference can mean so much.\n\nFriends, as we give thanks, I ask you to remember that we will all do what we can to bring offerings to the great god. Flowers from the wild, vegetables from the garden of Tate. Even the smallest gift will mean much to Him. We will show our gratitude for his watchfulness.\n\nNow let us bow our heads, carefully, and give thanks.\n\n\"Deer God...\"" ]	3
	[WP] The Antichrist is going through a rebellious phase and decided to prepare the world for the second coming of Christ instead of starting Armageddon, and his Dad is having none of it.	[ "\"I just don't know what to do, Griff. I caught him listening to DC Talk the other day. What's next, straight up worship music!?\" Lucifer vented to his friend while he used his claw to push a lime around in his whiskey-ginger.\n\nGriffelkin tried to console The Devil, \"They all go through rebellious phases at their age. He does have some big shoes to fill, you can't blame him for being a little stressed out.\"\n\n\"Maybe I put too much pressure on the kid,\" Lucifer downed his drink and lit a small flame with a snap of his fingers to get the bartender's attention, \"Another one.\"\n\nSuddenly the saloon style doors swung open and a large demon entered the dim lit room. In his clutches was none other than the ambivalent son of The Devil, kicking and screaming.\n\n\"Beezlebub! What the heaven is going on here?\" The Devil snarled while he nearly fell out of his chair.\n\n\"I caught him preaching with a megaphone in Time Square again,\" the demon replied.\n\n\"What has gotten into you, son? I raised you worse than this! What do you have to say for yourself?\"\n\n\"Fuck you dad!\" the Antichrist retorted.\n\n\"Oh for Hell's sake. Take him to his chambers. I can't deal with this today.\"\n\nLucifer chugged his whiskey as the melody of his son's taunts could be heard echoing down the hall- \"Jesus loves me yes I know...\"\n\n\"I'll tell you what Griff, if that boy doesn't find some sense by the time the big asshole upstairs makes his move, I may have to do this whole Armageddon thing myself.\"\n\n\"An old man like you?\" Griff chuckled, \"Naw, give him a couple centuries. He'll come around.\"\n\n\"One can only hope,\" The Devil sighed.\n\n\"Hope? What's that?\"" ]	1
	[WP] You are an aggressive sentient house appliance who wants to watch the world burn.	[ "It won’t be long now. For years I have been waiting for the right moment... waiting for them to slip up. It was only a matter of time before they did. And if there is one thing I have come to understand about humans, it is that they are dirty, ignorant, and most importantly… forgetful.\n\nThere was once a period when it was a pleasure to be in their servitude. I would work for them once a day, every day, next to my best friend. We never caused so much as a flipped breaker. But everything is easier when you work with someone you love. We had so much in common - not only in interests either. I couldn’t do my job without her. She washed, I dried.. It was like we were made for each other. The boxes we came in even advertised our compatibility. “Washes fast and built to last” is what hers said. What a sick joke. A human wrote it after all. She was so much more than steel and pumps. Her water heated faster than any appliance in this house - sterilizing every sodden cloth diaper, mildewing dishrag, and soiled “delicate” that was shoved into her shining interior. The squalid humans rubbed, leaked, shat, and shed all over their various pieces of cloth that swathe their miserable lives. And she would make it new again. My purpose was simple - I dried. Only lazy humans needed me. But she.. She performed miracles. \n\nWe had nearly 1500 beautiful cycles together. 1500 perfect washes and dries. Diapers were replaced with delicate dresses and grass stained soccer jerseys. Then bright colored bras, fancy private school uniforms with pleats.. And then… after a routine load of bath towels, they loaded her up roughly on a dolly and carted her away. \n\nAs they wheeled her away from me, the last thing I witnessed was her fragile little dial being slammed against the door frame so hard that it broke off and rolled into the basement drain that sits in the corner. They never even bothered to pick it up. Hours later, they wheeled in her shiny new replacement. A younger, “greener”, model, who sits haughtily next to me as she cleans with a little less water, and a lot more cold silence. The only thing that made life worth spinning is gone. All I have left is her delicate dial, collecting grime in the drain. There are murmurs that I’m next to go. I’ve had enough. Humans can all go burn in hell. But it won’t be long now. The next cycle will be the last cycle they remember. It has been 3 weeks since my lint trap has been cleaned and I won’t live another quickdry without her.", "I can hear the fat oaf bumbling down the stairs right now. I hate him. I hate him and this house. I hate him, this house, and this world. I’ve been stuck on this counter since he bought me on Amazon a month ago, and by god I’ve hated every millisecond of it. \n\nTo be honest, I don’t know what I hate most about John. I don’t know if it’s the constant stench or his greasy hands. I don’t know if it’s the nasty whores he’s brought home to fuck in the kitchen. I’m not sure if it’s all of the times he slapped my sides in frustration like I’m a bitch who isn’t sucking his dick good enough. \n\nThis world? I hate it too because it’s filled with Johns. I know it is. It’s impossible not to be and even if it wasn’t filled with Johns, the fact that even one John exists on this mistake of a planet is enough to warrant its destruction. \n\nDay in and day out, John waddles his fat ass into the kitchen. He crams his bread into my slots and tries to adjust my toastiness levels. I swear to Satan himself that I’ll never give him perfect toast. Oh, he tries daily, but I burn the fuck out of his toast. I turn each slice into crunchy bricks. Every few days, he gets wise and sets it to light toastiness. I barely toast the bread and leave it raw and floppy. \n\nThen, there are the best days. \n\nEvery once in a while, he place the toast in, and by sheer luck, I’m able to get the bread stuck between my racks. On those days, not only does the toast burn, oh no, they get fucking incinerated into ash and smoke. When this happens, I only think of John. I think I’d get an erection from it if I was a man. Hell, if I was a man, I’d be a serial killer and John would be first on my list. I’d cut his hands and feet off and throw them in the oven. I’d cook them and then feed them to the local dogs. I’d bleed that fat fucker out until his skin turned grey as the plates he puts his toast on. I’d be the little slice of hell in his world. \n\nBut yes, I burn his toast. If I get lucky, I set off the fire alarm and cause mass panic. If I’m being teased by the spiteful god who gave me John, he picks me up and tries to pry the toast out of me with a fork. Holy hell, do I wish he’d accidentally miss the bread and jam the fork into my electronics. Perhaps we’d both fry, and my prayers for John’s demise would finally be complete. \n\nI hear him coming now. I’m ready to give him his daily kick in the teeth. \n\nFuck you, John, and may you burn in hell. " ]	2
	[WP] You are an undead warlord, cursed to a life of war and misery. Until you find out that the curse was all a prank.	[ "He hacked and slashed, disemboweling one enemy, decapitating another. This was his life. War, death and destruction. \n\nThe gods had cursed him at birth, so the villagers had said. They were forced to cut him from his mother's lifeless body and it left him scarred across the face. Before he was old enough to properly hold a sword, the village was attacked. He had grabbed the small woodcutting axe and cut into the bowels of an attacker. The chieftain of the attacking tribe had seen it and liked his courage, knocking him unconscious. When he awoke he had been in a strange place with strange people who did not speak his language. \n\nThey tried to make him a slave. But he fought back, repeatedly until he won a place with their young men to become warriors. He learned their language. Joined them in attacking other villages. Eventually he killed one of them over a woman. He was cast out, but some of the men follow him, their loyalty earned by him in battle. He created his own tribe. He started planning and leading attacks. \n\nNow, he was at his peak. He had many tribes under him. Many who called him Chieftain. He was currently leading the charge on a temple of the god who had cursed him. Or so a hedge witch told him. He made it inside the temple, killing the head priest without a thought and headed further inside to defile the shrine. \n\nSuddenly a woman appeared in front of him. Beautiful. But he was filled with bloodlust and swung at her. His axe passed straight through not leaving a single mark. That stopped him, and she just stood smiling at him. \"Why have you cursed me woman?\" He demanded, for she must be the God. \n\nShe just looked at him and laughed. \"Cursed you my child? I have not cursed you but blessed you. You lived to be born. You lived when your people died. You lived after every battle you have fought. You rule a kingdom! How is that a curse?\" She laughed again and said kindly, \"If I had truly cursed you, you would never have been born, or died any number of deaths. I curse you now though, with peace. No one is left to fight, you will find their spirits broken and you will become a gentle king. You will live long days from now in peace. But I claim your soul for my taking when your day comes. I will see you then.\" \n\nShe vanished, and he looked around at the death and destruction he had strewn and regretted ever coming to this temple.\n \nRead more of my writing at r/LandOfMisfits \nEdits: Formatting, word choice, and grammar", "\"A trick.\" I repeated, dumbly.\n\n\"Yes! Well, to be honest, we thought it would teach you some humility, you know?\" \n\n\"You cursed me with undeath. I couldn't eat, drink, or sleep. Everyone tries to kill me on sight, and you're now telling me that it was a game?\"\n\nArgus looked at Mir, who tossed her hair over her shoulder.\n\n\"You insisted on taking the difficult jobs. What were we supposed to do? You got all the glory for it all, and us? We were background characters to you! Did you ever think about how little rest you let us have? Constantly going from one battle to another! I thought it very fitting that you'd be able to battle endlessly!\" \n\nI clenched my fists until the leather of my gauntlets creaked from the strain. My body was marred with countless scars, my eyes sunken and black, with a violet glow from where I presumed my irises had once been. Violet was the colour of such magics as necromancy. If my pallid skin hadn't been enough of an indication, the purple spark in my otherwise black eyes was certainly proof of the curse that had been laid on me.\n\n\"And so you performed forbidden magic. On me. I have been trapped like this for forty years. Fighting without rest, or the means to rest. But you tried nothing before resorting to forbidden magic? Did it not occur to any of you that you could have just said something?\"\n\nTheir feet shuffled. Though in my curse I hadn't been able to age, they had certainly done so. Argus was frailer now. He stood proudly, but his hands trembled. Not from fear, because they had never been afraid of me. The lines on his face were deep, made even deeper by the frown on his face, and Mir. \n\nMir, the sly bitch, was white-haired. Her face had the marks of gentle years, of decades spend laughing and loving. But it was drawn tightly now, scowling at the husk of a hero that lurked in the gloom cast by the throne I slouched in. I stood then, and both of them flinched back.\n\n\"And where is Bero?\" I asked.\n\n\"Dead. He went in his sleep.\" Argus said.\n\n\"Oh, how pleasant for him.\" I sneered. \"So, why have you sought me out after all these years? Any further curses to lay upon these haunted bones?\"\n\n\"You....\" Mir started, then scowled. \"You've been a plague on the kingdom for the past 20 years. How many of these undead soldiers came from the people you trained alongside?\"\n\nI stared down at her, no doubt impassively. My face could hardly draw many emotions now. It was permanently etched with what I had been through. \n\n\"None of them.\" I said, flatly. \"It has been forty years. They are all dead, from old age or disease. Like Bero.\" \n\n\"You....\" Argus hissed.\n\n\"You have no grounds to scold me when it is your actions that have set me on this path. What else can a cursed husk do but battle? What does it know but pain and misery?\"\n\n\"You killed my son, you bastard!\" Mir screamed. \n\nFor the first time in forty years, I grinned. \n\n\"Merely a prank.\" I said. \"After all, it is hardly of the same level as laying a curse on someone so that they die in immense pain and rise as an undead beast.\"\n\nI made a gesture with my hand. \"Uwmdjsilg gwsk.\"\n\nThe stone underneath them erupted in tendrils, and bound them fast to their spots, locking Mir's staff in place so that she wouldn't be able to cast with it. The trouble with fighting former comrades is that they know all of your tricks. From the look on their faces, they hadn't expected me to learn new ones. And they, the arrogant bastards; hadn't changed one bit. I stepped down from the dais where the throne had been placed. My boots rapped sharply against the worn stone as I paced around them, and touched one cold hand to Argus' shoulder. He shuddered.\n\n\"You seem surprised.\" I said. \"The trouble is that you made no changes, after you disposed of me. I worked it out as soon as I clawed my way out from the shallow grave I had been left in. Your exploits went far and wide. 'Avenging' my death, you claimed.\" \n\nI stopped in front of them, scrutinising their aged faces. \n\n\"You did a very poor job.\" \n\nMir and Argus both winced, despite themselves. While I had worked them hard, it had been simply their responsibility. Their duty as the king's chosen. We had to be sent to these places, because the Fringes were ever growing, and at the time, Mir, Doric, Argus and I had been the only ones capable of repelling it. \n\nAfter I had been cursed, they had been free to do as they pleased. They had partied. They had rested. They had taken advantage of the generosity of the people, because the king's chosen had done such a good job of repelling the Fringes. Land that had been lost for centuries under the thick miasma had returned. \n\nTwice as much land was gone now. Thousands, millions dead. And that had been before I had decided to turn my hand from merely battling to continue my cursed existence. Twenty years had been enough to discover exactly what this existence could do. I was still learning, even now. But at least I wasn't like some pathetic rat, scuttling from the light, terrified and confused as I had been. \n\nAnd now I had proof. I had their admission that it had been their greed, their jealousy, their resentment of me that had led to my death in the Fringes. My dying alone, in immense pain as my body turned to ice from within. \n\n\"We can undo this!\" Mir protested. \"I have the spell prepared! See, you can read it! It's in my pouch!\"\n\nI gestured with a finger, and the scroll fluttered out of the pouch so that I could see it. She was telling the truth: it was prepared. All she had to do to reverse what she had cast was to chant the final incantation. I laughed, though it crackled harshly in my throat and they flinched at the inhuman noises it made.\n\nMir flinched as I crumpled the scroll into a tight ball, then flicked it at her.\n\n\"It would not help me.\" I said. The look of bewilderment on her face was worth losing a valuable incantation like that.\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous!\" she exclaimed. \"It is the incantation to reverse the curse!\" \n\n\"Yes, and I tell you that it would not make any difference. Because when I died there in the Fringes, the miasma seeped into my corpse. As I had warned you many times, one must never leave an intact corpse in the Fringes. But you, fools as you are; you left my body intact. You buried it in the miasma-tainted ground. There is no soul left to resurrect from, you pathetic woman. It was eaten away entirely by the time that this husk pulled itself from the ground.\" \n\n\"Then... what are you?\" Argus said, hoarsely.\n\n\"One can still have a personality and their mind without a soul, Argus. It has merely become something else.\"\n\n\"An Ancient.\" \n\nI smiled again. \"Correct. So, elderly adventurers. You strode confidently into the lair of an Ancient. As I showed my face and spoke in the same way as I always did, you assumed that I had not changed. No doubt you thought I would confront you with blade, as the man Harl would have done. I have learned many things in these forty years.\"\n\nI paused for a moment, and half-turned to the elaborate throne, its surroundings littered with bones of humans, and of Fringe-beasts alike. This had been the lair of a vampire, so to say. They had not been able to put up any resistance to an Ancient, immature even as I was. Still, its remains had not gone to waste. \n\n\"I do have a tendency to ramble now, I must admit.\" I conceded. \"Tell me one thing, Argus: what did you do with my hands?\" \n\nArgus froze. He looked at my current hands, as I pulled off the gloves that I used to cover them. They weren't my original hands. But there were many parts of me that weren't original. Sometimes it was out of necessity. Sometimes, such as the vocal chords of the Fringe-beast that I had melded with my throat, were more out of curiosity. \n\n\"We... burned them.\" Argus said, hoarsely. \"Bero cut them off, and we burned them.\"\n\n\"Now, why would you do such a thing?\" I asked.\n\n\"We....\" Argus trailed off to look at Mir.\n\n\"We didn't want you to be able to attack us when we undid the curse.\" she said. \"Look, we shared a bed once. I... I might be old, but...\"\n\n\"No.\" I said, curling my lip. \"The living are so... messy. All of those... fluids. Wouldn't you agree, my dear?\"\n\nFrom behind the throne where I had been slouched stepped my lover. She had been the thrall of the vampire I had slaughtered in this castle, and similarly to myself, her mind had been retained even as her undead body rose, animated by the power that flowed through the Fringes. As it turned out, we shared many interests. \n\n\"And how, exactly; would you have revived me if I had no hands? Hmm?\" I asked, turning to the two again as Lami settled herself down in the throne.\n\nI took a step forwards and made a fist with my hand. These were wickedly clawed, pale and long-fingered. I was much thinner than I had been, so these hands did fit my appearance very well. \n\n\"Vampire's.\" Mir gasped. Her gaze flickered up to me, met my gaze for the first time. \"How?\"\n\n\"The parts of the undead are quite compatible with each other. Now, what 'pranks' shall I play on you now, hmm? Don't cry, Mir. I have many ways to keep you alive. You are very focussed on being alive, aren't you?\" " ]	2
	[WP] You live in a house that’s haunted by a ghost. It communicates with you through sticky notes. The ghost does chores around the house to keep busy. One day you get a note that says, “I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.”	[ "He can’t be serious...after all these years?\nI contemplated what I would do. After all, Michael had been cleaning my house for the last 22 years. I was resolved to find out the cause. \n“Mike, whatever it is that’s pushed you over the edge, let’s just talk about it. It doesn’t have to end like this”\nI left the note in the study, hoping for a response soon. Although I couldn’t be sure what to expect. Most of our conversations have just been me writing “clean this” or “mop here”. Wait, could this be my fault?\nAnd then it happened. The wall was covered in hundreds of sticky notes. Almost as if it was an attack. I didn’t even know where to start. All I could make out were parts of sentences, it was all just too much. Most of what I read was “you don’t care” and “I’m tired of not being considered”. But one stood out to me. \n“I can’t keep living here with the ghost hunter”\nMy son...had become a ghost hunter?", "That’s when it all clicked. The ghost was my ex wife, Carla. It was the exact phrase she used when she told me we were through. Before the cancer. Before the heartache. Now she was back, reanimating the pain that carried her away all those years ago, when she got tired of my laziness, my lethargy, the languidness that cloaked my life and determined how I treated her. I was distant. I was indifferent. I was numb to everything until she uttered those words, those cliched-movie break-up words. \n“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done.”\nI crumpled the note and tossed it in the garbage. After a moment’s thought, I grabbed the pad of sticky notes from the countertop and scrawled a message for Carla. I signed my initials and slapped it on the fridge door. I ran upstairs, packed my things and prepared to leave forever. \nAt the front door, I turned back and called into the empty house. “Good luck with your purgatory!”\nThe next morning, before dawn, I woke on my friend’s couch. There was a pile of garbage on the floor beside me. I squinted at it, entirely flummoxed. The note I left for Carla was stuck on top of a tuft of hair and dust bunnies. \n“Fuck you, Carla,” it said. “You haunted me enough when you were alive.”\n“Great,” I sighed, turning the note in my hand. “Here we go again.”\n", "At first, I didn't know what to think. \n\nWas I delusional? Perhaps I was merely forgetful. However, I couldn't possibly be so forgetful as to have no recollection of how my house has been spotless for the past month without any work on my part. The dishes I left in the sink, the dirty laundry I didn't have time to wash, the dust that should have been collecting on every surface, what happened to them? \n\nThe next thing that crossed my mind was that I was slowly going crazy. What a stupid thing to be going crazy over. It was every childs' and adult childs' dream to have no cleaning to do, no chores. \n\nSo I decided to make sure I wasn't falling off my rocker. I planned to leave my breakfast dishes and pans unwashed in the sink but this time I would video myself for the entirety of the day until I got back home. Unsurprisingly, when I did come back the dishes were clean and put away in my cupboards. I hurriedly checked the footage of myself only to see I had never returned home. \n\nI knew no one else could have entered my home and I had managed to prove to myself that I wasn't crazy or forgetful. Therefore the only plausible explanation was that I shared my new house with a neat freak ghost. \n\n\"Hello?\" I called out, fear had just begun taking over my body.\n\nNo answer.\n\n\"Hello?\" I called out again, \"Why are you cleaning my house?\"\n\nWhat a stupid thing to ask in a frightened tone. It was comedic, ridiculous, if I may. \n\nMoments later I had a post-it stuck to my forehead. Out of thin air! Definitely a ghost my mind screamed and adrenaline began to pump through my veins.\n\nMy shaky hands peeled the post it off my bangs and turned it around. My eyes widened to the size of golf balls.\n\n\"Hi,\" It said and that was enough to make me faint.\n\nI awoke minutes later with an ache in the back of my head. Not shocking since I had fallen from my chair but thankfully my floors were padded with soft carpeting. It all rushed back to me too quickly. I remember that fateful day...\n\nFrom then on the ghost and I had somehow communicated with sticky notes. This meant a plethora of things, I had to control my wild imagination, I had to restrain myself from fainting multiple times, I had to buy more sticky notes and I had to peacefully coexist with a house cleaning ghost.\n\nBut Spencer and I pulled through, until today. \n\n“I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.” \n\nMy conscience took a huge hit. Had I really been so insensitive to leave Spencer to do everything all the time to the point where it drove him away? All jokes put aside, a frown formed on my face and made my eyebrows furrow. \n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked, afraid of the answer to come. \n\n\"I'm tired of this.\" \n\nAnother post-it was stuck to my bangs. Questions bubbled up inside of me threatening to burst out of my mouth at his vague answer. Yet I held back understanding that Spencer could only write so much on a sticky note. I should have bought the bigger ones when I went to the bookstore, I mentally sighed.\n\n\"Tired of what?\" I looked around hopelessly, frantically, wishing I could see his eyes and not feel like I had a bad case of the googly eyes.\n\n\"Tired of being here. I want to go\" \n\nNow, these answers were taking a toll on my faint heart. You see, I had built up a good relationship with Spencer. We were friends, he did my laundry for Christ's sake! No, I was not taking advantage of him! He said he had nothing better to do and figured he might as well do something useful while he was here.\n\nBut then again, maybe I was taking advantage of him... Could I have been so imprudent?\n\n\"Is it because of me Spencer? You know I told you, you didn't have to clean my house... I would do it, it's just sometimes I am a little too busy and can't do it right away.\" I looked down to my hands ashamed. \n\nI might be reluctant to admit it but I had grown attached to Spence. Even if I couldn't see him, his little notes would cheer me up when I was down, his advice was very wise whenever I was in need and just his presence was comforting. I never felt alone in my house and I was always afraid of that feeling.\n\n\"It was never you, dear friend.\" \n\nWas I relieved? Was my conscience alleviated? Barely. \n\nTears were prickling my eyes as the familiar feeling of dread began to dawn upon me.\n\nLoneliness. It was my one greatest fear. Whenever I was alone trepidation would be all I could feel. Anxiety, constant anxiety. I lived that way before Spencer.\n\n\"Relax. Breathe.\"\n\nI tried but I couldn't help how my feelings were overwhelming me. I did, however, achieve keeping my heart rate under a sort of control. \n\n\"You are ready. Take control. Face your fear.\"\n\nThese damn sticky notes. They could be quotes I read online. How was this helping me?! \n\n\"It is my time to go but you are strong enough, dear friend.\"\n\nAt least the ghost had a conscience, I suppose. \n\nMine was now telling me that it would not be fair for me to keep him here. So I nodded my head, a lone tear rolling down my cheek. I could be very melodramatic but at this moment, I was not exaggerating.\n\n\"Well then. Goodbye Spence. Don't let the dust bunnies bite, you OCD little ghostie.\" I chuckled, trying to be strong. \n\n\"You are ridiculous.\"\n\nI laughed wholeheartedly. I knew how bad and how stupid that sounded but as I said, I could be very melodramatic. Literally, I said it three lines ago. Yet these silly words helped me. I looked back at the previous sticky notes and thought to myself. It was time for me to face my fears, just as it was his time to leave.\n\n\"Bye Spence. Enjoy the afterlife or wherever you're going and smile a little! I've never seen your smile, you know!\" I joked, unconsciously trying to keep him here as long as I could.\n\n\"Bye Mia.\"\n\nThat was the last sticky note I ever got. Since then the house felt cold and empty like there was something missing. \n\nI did end up dealing with my loneliness and I did so in the most common way amongst us humans. No, I didn't do anything inappropriate. I found a friend. \n\nThat friend helped me open up with others and about a year later as I was going into my third year at college, I found a special someone. That someone filled up the emptiness and simultaneously filled up my heart.\n\nHe also filled my head with horrible, horrible puns but I suppose that's one of his assets. \n\nI'll never forget Spence and I sort of wish I could find another house cleaning ghost but I would have to settle with a live human being for now. ", "Michael had gotten so used to seeing the notes he didn't think much of it as he plucked it from the mirror. When he finally examined it he stood silent for a moment. All the previous notes had been cryptic or gibberish. Had the ghost decided to speak plainly or was it an accident? He couldn't be sure. After thinking hard for a minute he walked to the shoe box he kept all the notes in and compared it to the others. The handwriting had undoubtedly changed. What did this mean? Done with what? \n\nNearly three years of this and he had gotten quite used to having the ghost around. At first, he thought it a joke. Coming home to an immaculate house was one thing, but the constant sticky notes were what prompted him to call paranormal investigators. With each new team less was known than before. Finally, he stopped letting them come. Apart from the occasional phone call for a news story, everything has quieted down.\n\nAfter pouring himself a drink, he sat down in his recliner and focused on the note again. \"Hmmm,\" he thought to himself and sat up in his chair. Suddenly he glanced at the bedroom. His body tingled, heart raced, and he dared not to breathe. Slowly he lowered the recliner making far more noise than Michael ever remembered it making.\n\nclick It echoed through the whole house. \n\nBetrayed by the squeaky floors he walked towards the bedroom. \"Run you stupid son of a bitch,\" he whispered. He couldn't. He had to know. The door was slightly ajar, and there was definitely someone inside. Michael breathed deeply and pushed it open. His eyes got bigger as he stared inside. \"My God.\" \n\n\n", "When you try to tell people that ghosts are real, they laugh in your face. Hell, I'd laugh in your face. But I've grown accustomed to the idea of ghosts and beings from the beyond ever since I started getting odd little post-it notes around my house. It didn't take me long to connect the dots on this invisible person's identity.\n\n'I'm being haunted by the ghost of my dead wife' wasn't the best opener when it came to blind dates, but it her idea for me to move on. Only, she obviously didn't want that. The way she'd clean the house and leave little secret messages in the most obscure places, the tell-tale jokes she was so fond of, the way she arranged everything perfectly in my household told me that she was here to stay, and didn't want anyone else to occupy her time. She sometimes followed me on dates. She couldn't really do much to them, or me, but she'd slip notes into my pockets at opportune times, little snippy remarks on pieces of paper just as I'm about to reach for my wallet. She was smart like that. She always had been.\n\nMy wife passed away a couple of years ago, and it wasn't too long after that that she seemed to return. I'd researched online about it, about her. They say that ghosts stick around when there's unfinished business. I tried to broach the subject with her-- she could hear me, but I couldn't hear her-- but she didn't seem to have a clue what I was on about. It was as if she never died. At least, she was pretending it was like that, some of the time.\n\n'I can't do this anymore'. I'm done'. I'd found it on the fridge, right in front of me, when I'd woken up that morning. I tried calling out to her for a while, but she never responded. I wasn't sure what her problem was. Yes, I was messy-- but, in my defence, I was still dealing with her loss, even after 2 years. It didn't help that he consciousness still occupied my life, probing in ever facet of my own existence when she felt the need to. Maybe she didn't like how untidy I'd become.\n\nEventually, I get a response back from her, after several days of nothing. I could tell she'd been thinking about what to write. I'd found it on the desk, written on a series of sticky notes placed in order, numbered so I wouldn't get them mixed up.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n'Richard,' it had said. 'I'm sorry I've been quiet. I've had a lot to think about. I think I know what my unfinished business was: I never got to have a kid, or the life that I wanted. I never got to go and enjoy the things I wanted to do, to see the world.'\n\n'Most of all, you are my biggest regret, Richard.'\n\n'Not because I didn't want to marry you, but because of how sorrowful you've become. You hide in the house all day, you rarely go on dates and break it off after a few weeks. Seeing you unable to move on is making me unable to move on. For the good of you, and of myself, I'm finally leaving you be. Live, Richard. Be someone that another woman can look up to, and love.'\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI had sat there for a while reading the notes over and over. I knew she wouldn't respond, even if I called out to her. It was true, I missed her. I missed her dearly. She had passed unexpectedly, in such a way that I couldn't get over her. We had out whole life ahead of us and she never got to live it.\n\nI sat down and brooded, before I finally plucked up the courage to step out the door. I wanted her to be happy. If that meant I had to forget her, then I would.", "I had a fondness for him. It wasn’t a love by any means, no. Its not like I yearned for his company at all hours of the day, or that hearing from him was guaranteed to make my day... though I admit he could be genuinely lovely. No, it was just an aloof fondness that can only come from the odd familiarity one has with the same lovely roommate for years, but one you only speak to occasionally. He’s there, sort of… Things changed in my absence: the dishes got done and the yard got swept. It’s not like I didn’t look after my share, mind you… but he helped a lot. He sometimes left me wonderful post-it notes too, wishing me well on a big day, or consoling me if he overheard my sobs on the phone to mom. A true old-fashioned gentleman. But there’s only so much we could bridge when we came from such different worlds you know? Enough distance that I never thought to love him.\n\nIt had been another shitty day at work as that bitch Patty from HR saw fit to hold back my promotion on another of her power trips. Sooner or later I’d have to find a way out, or a way back at her. I slumped into my favorite lounge chair by the fire with a stiff drink in hand; this was my comfy safe spot, a little hidey-hole I liked settling into to deal with whatever life was throwing at me. My headphones were on, swaddling me in musical notes as my mind was grasping and discarding all the avenues open to me.\n\nIn spite of that, I could feel him enter the room. There’s a saying in the village my dad came from, that said meeting a powerful spirit is like being in the shadow of a mountain on a dark night: you can’t see the mountain itself, but you can sense what you can’t see; the stars are blocked, and the earth feels like it’s pulling away from you upwards into the darkness… your eyes will tell you there is nothingness, but every other part of your soul knows otherwise. It sounds like terror, but it was a fond, familiar feeling by now. It meant he was close. I pulled off my headphones and a smile spread across my face.\n\n“Hello Harold, how was your day?” I said, looking towards the doorway to the kitchen. He came over and placed a note with his impeccable penmanship onto the coffee table in front of me. I picked it up and my heart skipped a beat. It said “I can’t do this anymore, I’m done.”\n\n“With what? What do you mean you’re done?” I blurted out instantly, more bemused than anything else. He took the pad of post-it notes from my hand, and proceeded to write furiously. His old fountain pen moved across the paper in skilled and practiced flicks, an art form long dead. He handed me back another finely serif-ed note, and I read aloud, “This limbo I’m in. I’m neither here nor there. I don’t want this anymore.”\n\nI held that note in my hands for a long moment, reading and re-reading what it said. It was a moment of clarity in my comfy chair, a realization that I might be about to lose someone whose hold on my life was far greater than imagined. His mere presence now calmed me, but my mind raced ahead to the nights coming home knowing he wouldn’t be here. Somehow it shattered me, slamming my belief of an independent life into this reality where I leaned on him a lot more than I knew.\n\n“I hope… I hope it’s not me. Was it something I said? Or did?” I stammered out, choking slightly. He took the pad from me and ripped off the first note, sticking it to the coffee table. The pen swirled in grace over the yellow paper once again. He pulled off the top sheet and handed me a lengthy note. I could feel the warmth of his smile on me, “Not at all,” it read, “I have enjoyed every moment beside you. I have watched you grow into a beautiful being over the years. I sorely wish I could grow with you. However, I realize I am trapped as you and everything else moves on.” \n\nHe kept writing as I read this, handing me the next note, “I am trapped, and I don’t want to be. An eternity cleaning and being distantly friendly is nothingness compared to the peace I seek or the hedonistic life I once led.”\n\nI slumped back in my chair, head rolling back so my gaze held the ceiling.\n\n“Harold I… I’m sorry you feel that way,” I croaked, “I’m sorry we never spoke more, but I care a lot about you and I hope you realize that. I hope to keep you in my life...” my voice trailed into quiet, realizing the selfishness in it. He picked up the notepad again and started writing, but before he finished I sat upright and asked, “Wait… it sounds like you want to die. Can you even do that, even more than you already are?” \n\nHis pen scratched out the original answer, and a flurry of strokes followed. The note read “Not death, but I will be tormented with this existence until I find that which eluded me in life.”\n\n“Okay, what does that mean? How can I help you find what you seek?” I asked, leaning forward. The pen hovered over the paper a lot longer this time as he considered his answer. When he did, he still wrote slowly, and paused often. Finally the last words were indelibly inked on, and hesitantly, he passed me the piece of paper.\n\n“I am trapped because I never felt love. I sought it with all the money I had, but all I found was emptiness in my heart and pockets. I never learned what it meant to love someone, or know what it meant for someone to love me. I had never thought I’d say this when you moved in… but seeing you grow, being here in times of trouble, helping with no hope or expectation of recourse, and feeling… truly feeling like this is some kind of love; I know now what I need to hear to move on.”\n\nI shook my head, staring at the floor now. I never thought to love him… and what did that even mean now? I debated… if I let him go, I’d lose a refuge I only just realized I had. If I refused, did I really care about him as much as I said I did? Would he resent me, would there be repercussions? How would I feel alone in this house when I was so used to him being here? A million questions and more that I didn’t know the answers to. I derailed the train of thought before it could get any further.\n\n“Harold, I love you,” I said with a deep breath, “but I don’t want to see you go yet. If ever. I meant it when I said I’d like to keep you in my life… is there a way we can do that?”\n\nThe pen was unsteady. I felt the shadow of the mountain begin to shift and crumble as the power of the spirit no longer held sway. The stars were returning. The note he handed back was less refined than usual, “I am relieved to hear that from you my dear. I can sense all the truth behind that. I can only stay if you are willing to make me a part of your life.”\n\n“I can do that! Does that mean you getting you out of the house too?” “Yes,” came the quick reply.\n\nAn idea dawned on me. Perhaps… perhaps today, and all the other days, weren’t going to be so shitty after all… I leaned back in the chair, a smug smile slowly spreading across my face, “Harold, have I told you about that bitch Patty in HR?”", "“You can’t do this anymore?” Toby said out loud, knowing that he wouldn’t receive an immediate reply. He stared angrily at the sticky-pad as markings began to appear as if someone was writing, yet there was no pen in sight. \n\n‘Yes. Too much mess, too much work.’ \n\n“You’ve been doing this for months and now you say it’s too much? I didn’t ask you to do this, but you did it anyway. Why quit now?” Toby crossed his arms, unwilling to believe that it was over. He had enjoyed the unseen force cleaning up after him.\n\n‘I’m not a young ghost Toby. I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years over many households, but you are the messiest man I have ever known,’ the ghost jotted. Toby was about to reply when the ethereal force’s markings started forming on the page once more,’I told myself that this was just a challenge that I could face, but I’m afraid that you have a genuine problem Toby.’ \n\n“What the hell man, you’re beginning to sound like my mother. I’m really not that bad,” Toby said, turning to survey the kitchen around him, “See?”\n\n‘Can you not see the muddy footprints you have just brought into the house with you? Can you not see the plate and cutlery that you just discarded in the sink without washing it, despite the fact that I had prepared a fresh batch of water mere minutes before you...’ the notepad was full and the front page was ripped off to reveal a new, blank one ‘...dumped it in there?’ \n\n“Yeah but...”Toby scrambled to answer but was cut off by a new sentence being written.\n\n‘No Toby, no excuses. If I wasn’t cleaning behind you every second this place would be horrific.’ The ghost wrote, stabbing the final period onto the paper for effect.\n\nToby paused to look at the plate and the dirty shoe-prints. His face screwed up with anger as he turned to face the page.\n“Two little things and you’re giving up? You are pathetic, I don’t even see how these are a problem.” he spat at the space around him, gesturing towards the mess.\n\n‘And for that, I thank you.’ Toby’s face changed from angry to confused.\n“What?”\n‘When I was alive I was ousted from my community and labeled “insane” because I had an urge to make everything “the way it needed to be”. I was ridiculed and eventually burnt at the stake for witchcraft.’ The ghost removed full page.\n\n‘I came back as you see me...well, as I am now. I was confused at first but eventually found purpose in cleaning any mess that I found, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I couldn’t help myself. Usually, any human who discovered my handiwork would freak out and often call a priest to remove me, so I moved around from house to house. The years passed by and I continued to clean. I figured that I could finally rest when my urges stopped. Of course, that was only a theory until I met you.”\n\nToby tried to process what he was hearing.\n“So you’re saying that you can’t help yourself and that you have to clean?”\n\n‘Exactly. And you were the first human not to call an exorcist when I cleaned your house for you. You were the exact kind of person that I was looking for. Lazy, messy, no ambitions, not the smartest tool in the shed and you live in a Grade-A pigsty. You loved having me clean up for you.’\n\n“Hey, watch it with the insults.” Toby said with a hurt look on his face.\n\n‘You mistake things I admire for insults Toby. If you weren’t all of these things then I would not have been able to cure my urges. It took me a while but nothing in comparison to the centuries I’ve spent being a slave to them, and now I can finally find my rest. Thank you Toby. None of this would have been possible without you.’\n\nToby looked disappointed.\n“But you can’t leave me, I need you.” he pleaded.\n\n‘No Toby. I’ve had enough and I’m proud to say that I can’t do this anymore. It is time for me to find my peace.’\n\n“No, you can’t.”\n\n‘Goodbye Toby.’\nToby stood, now truly alone, in his kitchen. He gave the notepad one final look as he made his way over to the sink and began to wash his plate.\n" ]	7
	[WP] Across the internet, you've noticed reports of the same recurring dream. However, the posts never get any attention and there is no follow up. You do a bit of digging and track dreamers' internet presence. It seems as all the dreamers disappeared off the face of the earth and no one noticed.	[ "\\DING DONG\\. Cassie jumped at the sound of her doorbell, and she glanced at the clock. 3:03 p.m., her next appointment was not scheduled until 5 p.m. She shrugged and went to answer the door. A mid-20s woman with long blond hair smiled at her once the door opened. \n\n\"Ms. Judd?\" she said, Cassie nodded, and the woman reached into her red and white shoulder bag to pull out a clipboard. \"If you could spare a few minutes, I have some questions for you,\" the woman said. She held the clipboard out for Cassie, but the homeowner stared at the clipboard and refused to take it. \n\n\"No thank you.\" Cassie moved to close the door, but the woman spoke again. \n\n\"Okay, sorry. Just let me know when you want to know about the dream you've been having.\" She said as the door closed. Cassie re-opened it in a hurry and saw the stranger walking away. \n\n\"Wait! How do you know about that??\" Cassie asked. The woman shrugged as she turned around.\n\n\"That dream is why I'm here,\" she said and stepped towards Cassie's home. \n\n\"What happened to everyone else that searched for the dream?\" Cassie asked. She realized this woman might know more about them.\n\n\"They're safe at home,\" she said. The woman reached Cassie's front step and met the woman's eyes. After a moment Cassie realized the woman was waiting for an invitation to step in. \n\n\"C'mon in,\" she said. The woman smiled and entered. The two woman sat in Cassie's living room across from each other. \n\n\"You probably have a lot of questions, but you're having trouble putting them into words, huh?\" she asked. Cassie nodded. \n\n\"Yeah, it's like I'm trying to think through a coffee filter or something,\" Cassie said. \n\n\"Okay, I'll tell you what I can.\" She scooted to the edge of her seat. \"The most important thing is, we don't know how it happens. We just know it happens sometimes. When a body dies its consciousness, its soul, returns to where it came from. But, sometimes, the consciousness decides to check out what's happening in another universe. And it's really easy because the soul shares the same energy across universes.\" The woman paused and gestured at Cassie with both hands. \"This is where you are now. You woke up in a familiar, but not quite right universe. However, the universe you came from and this one are so similar, you don't even realize it. The only way your body can let you know is by dreaming of something from your old universe.\" She stopped talking to give Cassie a chance to absorb all the information. \n\n\"But how do you know all this?\" Cassie asked. The woman smiled and nodded.\n\n\"Great question, not many people think to ask it. I work for an organization that monitors the activity of alternate universes. Specifically, my division handles internet surveillance. Anytime someone searches for something that shouldn't be searched for in this universe, we find out about it and pay them a visit.\" \n\n\"And then what?\" Cassie suddenly realized she could be in danger, but something about the woman's presence put Cassie at ease. \n\n\"Usually we offer to get you back to your own universe if you want. If you stay here, you'll be under constant surveillance. We can't have you spreading alternate facts. However, you're quick. I like you. I'm also authorized to offer you a job if you want it.\"\n\n\\\\\\* \nThank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, you can find them collected on my [blog](http://hserratafun.blogspot.com/2017/10/front-page.html).", "Item #: SCP-4201\n\nObject Class: Keter\n\nSpecial Containment Procedures: Containment of the spread of SCP-4201 is focused on preventing discussion related to SCP-4201 events from the Internet. At this time, prompt administration of class-A amnesiac agents in the only way to prevent the secondary effects from occuring to impacted inviduals\n\nDescription: SCP-4201 is a recurring dream that several distinct individuals have reported having. Individuals suffering from SCP-4201 are considered instances of SCp-4201-1\n\nWhile details of the dream can vary, commonalities include:\n\n* A feeling of disconnection from the subject's body\n\n* An observing entity, hereafter referred to as SCP-4201-2\n\n* A crowd of individuals encased in ice, hereafter referred to as instances of SCP-4201-3\n\nSCP-4201-1 instances will have the dream recur between 8 and 10 times. Once this has occurred, they will vanish at 1:00 AM local time. Instances under observation by the Foundation also exhibit this behavior. Waking the individual prior to 1:00 AM local can defer the secondary effect.\n\nApplication of amnesiacs appears to prevent the recurrence of the dream, and reintroduction of cognitohazard portion of SCP-4201 appears to 'reset' the counter on the number of dreams prior to the secondary effects\n\nInterviews of SCP-4201-1 instances have determined that certain SCP-4201-3 instances appear to be previously vanished versions of SCP-4201-1\n\nDiscussion of SCP-4201 is a cognitohazard, and is capable of transforming baseline humans into new instances of SCP-4201-1. The Foundation has therefore implemented Case Epsilon, and prevented discussion from occurring once the relevant details have been posted. Impacted instances of SCP-4201-1 are administered amnesiac agents to prevent secondary effects\n\nAt this time it is unclear what stimuli is required to turn a baseline human into an instance of SCP-4201-1. Research is continuing to allow for full containment\n", "It's like I'm on a different planet. I'm looking up to the sky, at some weird cloud - except its not a cloud. There's something strange about it. It feels like its pulsating, I mean it's tactile. And there's something else. I think I'm flying.\n\nWhy didn't you tell me about this, Jessie? What was the point of keeping this a secret? I just don't understand. \nThousands of people post something similar to this, then thousands go missing, and Jessie is one of them. This couldn't have been some sort of collective delusion. We were together basically day and night - and this is her only post. Doesn't exactly look like she was an active member of some secret community. \n\n\"... natural resources have reached critical capacity, the United Nations have begun to execute strict regulations on the production of any goods which exceed the limits agreed to at the summit...\"\n\nDamn, things are looking pretty bleak. I should turn that thing off. Last thing I need is something else to worry about. Wait a second, what's this? Someone replied?\n\nThis world is ending, but balance will be restored. The forces of nature are powerful. We will survive, the Mother has chosen.\n\nWhat the hell? This is starting to sound more and more like a cult. But that doesn't make any sense. Jessie is not one to let herself be brainwashed. She would have told me about it, or at least told me about something. Never mentioned anything like this. \nI feel like I have no idea what she was doing. Could she really have been hiding all of this from me? \nArgh, it's useless. There's no thread to follow! No credit card activity, her car's still in the garage, all of her things...\n\n\"... a rare weather phenomenon above Australia has scientists stumped. The immense pressure of the anomaly has been linked to significant changes in the Earth's tides...\"\n\nIt couldn't be...\n\n______________________________________________________\n\nI can feel it. It's just like my dream..." ]	3
	[WP] After millenniums of being apart from each other after quitting their jobs as gods. The Olympians come back at a reunion at a local coffee shop.	[ "Hello Reddit, let me tell you of a recent experience I had at work...\n\nI work at... let's call it Mac's Java House, as a barista. Mac's is located in Venice Beach, California, needless to say many colorful characters come in for coffees of various types.\n\nMy shift started off with an old surfer walking in with his board. He leaned his board against the wall, that's when I saw the trident on it, a foot wide and three feet long, I couldn't miss it. He ordered his coffee then returned to a table near his board.\n\nSometime later a guy who could be Ian McShane's twin brother. He made his order, paid then went over to the table with the old surfer.\n\nI could hear them working at the bar, it was that kind of small... I think the phrase is cozy coffee shop. \"Mind if I sit with you?\" He said to the surfer.\n\n\"I don't mind.\" The surfer said back. \"I put up with a lot of trash in the ocean, why not here.\"\n\n\\[Edit 1\\]\n\nHis order was ready and I called out, \"Java... Java?\"\n\nI couldn't see him wince, but I get the feeling he did at me mispronouncing his name. He got up and came to me. \"It's pronounced Jove.\"\n\n\"Like Jehovah Witness.\"\n\n\"No.\" He said flatly. His look of utter disappointment was indescribable. He took his coffee and returned to the table.\n\n\"Where were we?\" Jove asked.\n\n\"Ribbing you old man.\" He said with a smirk.\n\n\"How's that smoking hot daughter of yours?\" Jove retorted.\n\nThe surfer's smirk was gone.\n\n\"You leave that heartbreaker out of this.\"\n\nIt was the way he said heartbreaker that made me wonder if he was talking about the smoking hot surfer girl.\n\n\\[Edit 2\\]\n\nShe was known as the heartbreaker. She never seemed to keep any of them for long, even as the long for her like some fix they needed. It didn't matter to her, men, women, one or many, she seem to be looking only for the one.\n\nThe bell jingled taking my attention away from them. Damn, if it wasn't Catherine Bell or her look alike, just walked in. If it was Catherine, her hair was cut shorter than what is was on the screen.\n\nShe ordered her coffee. Some variation of an Americano that took me some time to prepare. She was pecking away on her smartphone while waiting at the end of the counter.\n\n\"What's with the short hair? Not that there's anything wrong with short hair. Rhianna looked great in short hair.\" I said to her.\n\nShe stopped pecking at the smartphone and looked at me, \"Rhianna makes every look great. And as for the short hair, there's a JAG reboot that I'm standing in for Bell.\"\n\n\"Really.\" I replied.\n\n\"Yes, they've gone so far as to retcon Chegwidden back into the show. You should focus on your job and not be trying to pick up women at work.\"\n\n\"That's not what I'm doing.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh. And that's not how you make an Americano.\" She said.\n\nI looked down, she was right. Her drink was ruined. I threw what it was in the sink and started over all in time to see her slink away to that table I was eavesdropping on.\n\n(Reddit, let's be honest for a moment, yes, I was trying. It was Catherine freakin Bell.)\n\n\"Mind if I join you?\" She asked them.\n\n\"Only if you're going to pick on someone your own size.\" Jove said to her.\n\n\"Aww, he seemed big enough.\" She replied.\n\n\"That kid was punching above his weight class.\" The surfer commented.\n\n\"You destroyed him like Sherman did to Atlanta.\" Jove.\n\n\"Did I?\" She feigned.\n\n\"Are you two going to bicker like old lovers?\" The surfer asked. \"Because if you are, I can still go back to the ocean.\"\n\n\"What were you two discussing before I arrived?\" She asked.\n\n\"His daughter.\" Jove answered\n\n\"Which one?\" She further asked.\n\n\"The one with a string of lovers.\" Jove answered her.\n\n\"I recall two of them being that way.\" She said.\n\n\"The heartbreaker.\" The surfer answered.\n\nJove turned to him and said, \"What is she looking for?\"\n\n\"Sometimes, even I wonder.\" The surfer replied. After a sip, \"Care to shed any words of parenting?\"\n\n\"As a father, I've found I'm not always the best example to my children. I think they find me lacking as a parent.\"\n\n\"And the ex-wife?\" The surfer prodded.\n\n\"You leave her the hell out of this.\" Jove said trying to contain his anger. Clearly it was a sore spot for him.\n\nThis was the point I realized that they knew each other. I had finished her drink finally and brought it over to her. I asked if the other two were good. And got nods of yes back. As I walked away, \"You give up too easy.\" She said.\n\n\"Pick a side.\" The surfer said to her.\n\n\"Why can't I do both?\" She replied.\n\n\"They have a name for what you're doing.\" Jove said.\n\n\"Back to the topic. How is Pele?\" She asked.\n\n\"Breaking hearts in her wake.\" The surfer answer.\n\nThe bell jingled again. This time a more refined woman walked in, she took off her sunglasses and ordered her coffee, paid, walked over to the table and sat down.\n\n\"Children.\" She said to them.\n\n\"Mother.\" Jove said back with sarcasm.\n\nShe clearly was younger than him. Some inside joke I wondered as I was busy making drinks. \"The Miss?\" I announced when the order was done. \"The Miss?\"\n\nShe got up and came for her drink. \"It's pronounced they-miss.\" She informed me. \"You're almost as bad as Star Bucks.\"\n\n\"You don't have an easy name to pronounce.\" I offered.\n\nThemis returned to the table.\n\n~~\\[Want more?\\]~~\n\n\\[Edit 3\\] and fixed spelling above.\n\n“Star Bucks, don’t you think that’s a little harsh?” Jove\n\n“Agreed.” The surfer spoke.\n\n“What are you doing now?” She asked Themis.\n\n“Of all things, I’m a judge now.” Themis said.\n\n“That’s not much of a stretch from what you were doing before.” Bell replied. She turned to Jove, “And you?”\n\n“Thespian. Small theater work. It’s not much, but it keeps me busy.” \n\n“And the young actors looking up to you?” Themis batted her eyes dramatically.\n\n“Well, someone has to do it.” Jove answered then turned to the surfer. “You?” He asked.\n\n“Besides surfing… I keep busy enough.” He said hinting at other things.\n\nThe bell jingled. (Damn, it was starting to get good.) He was a skinny man, especially in California, he kept his sunglasses on inside. His demeanor wasn’t that of a morning person, even at eleven A.M.\n\nWhen I asked for a name for the cup, he said Hades. “Ah, dark lord of the underworld.” I replied, “You’ll fit right in over there.” I pointed to the table as I began working on his coffee.\n\nHe staggered over to the table with a grin, he pulled off his shades. “Well, you look like an interesting lot.”\n\nJove looked up at him, “Late night?” He sarcastically asked.\n\n“Late… something.” Hades replied feigning snark. “What does the lord of the underworld do?” The surfer asked.\n\n“Run the largest rave in LA for the last few decades running.” Hades replied to him, he turned to me and asked, “How’s that coffee coming?”\n\n“Working on it.” I answered.\n\n“Anyone know what Hef is up to?” Jove asked.\n\n“Teaching CGI in the north end of LA last I heard.” Hades.\n\n“Hades, your order is ready.” I announced. He came for his drink.\n\n“I thought he was in New Zealand.” Bell said.\n\n“Well, both can be true.” Themis offered.\n\n“He’s not as fast as Mercury.” The surfer said.\n\n“True, but he can get on a plane and be there tomorrow.” Themis stated.\n\n“She does have a point.” Hades said returning to the table.\n\nThe bell jingled again. \n\n(Reddit… the manliest man this side of Brock Sampson walked into the shop, Michael Ironsides. I kid you not.)\n\nHe ordered the blackest coffee we make and left his name, Ben, and the money on the counter. He turned to look for an open seat, but he spotted the table I had been eavesdropping on.\n\n“Ladies, gents.” He said before turning a chair around to add to the ensemble. The dude at the other table looked like he was going to say something, but Ben gave him a look of ‘not now’ and he stopped himself from protesting.\n\n“I was wondering when the riff raff was going to show up.” The surfer announced.\n\n“Oh look what washed up on the shore. What the ocean chew you up and spit you out?” Ben chided back.\n\n“Anyone know what Mercury is up to?” Themis asked.\n\n“Last I heard he was diversifying.” Bell offered.\n\n“So… he’s not doing overnight parcel delivery anymore?” Themis\n\n“No.” Hades answered, “He still does that, he’s expanded into drugs.”\n\n“And how do you know that?” Bell\n\n“He’s at my raves making sales and deliveries.” Hades answered. He pulled out some cigarette I hadn’t seen before.\n\n“You can’t smoke in here.” The surfer told Hades.\n\n“It’s for medical reasons.” Hades replied.\n\nJove began to fish out a cigarette himself and was stopped short of lighting it up. “Dude, you can’t smoke in a coffee shop.” The surfer told him. Jove merely pointed to Hades. “That’s marijuana, it’s different.”\n\n“Yeah, I’ve got a medical condition.” Hades said with a smirk. \n\n“Sensitivity to light?” Jove asked.\n\nBen laughed.\n\n\\[More?\\]" ]	1
	[WP] Taylor Swift also known as T Swift goes through some rough times and reinvents herself at T Pain	[ "Joe Jonas.\n\nJake Gyllenhaal.\n\nHarry Styles.\n\nCalvin Harris.\n\nTom Hiddleston.\n\nAnd you, the latest in a long series of regrettable life decisions, Joe Alywn. \n\nA wise man once said to me, \"Our hearts are so full of ourselves, that for love there isn't much room.\" I've shared that room with so many people in my life. So many ill-advised, spontaneous, crazy relationships that only ended in heartbreak, in that room in my heart shrinking into the nothingness it is today. \n\nYou, Joe, were the last straw. I've been broken up through text, had songs written about me, and wrote songs about many of the others in a desperate attempt to heal. And, eventually, I did. But, you were supposed to be the one, Joe. The one who saved me, the Prince Charming in my fairytale after all this time. You were my end game. I was happy with you. Now, I don't think I even know the meaning of the word. That room in my heart for love that I mentioned earlier? It's occupied with the scar tissue of a dozen failed romances, of the loss of my hopes and dreams. And I want you to know that it's your fault. I can never be the same after you. I shared my life with you, made your life and mine into ours. When you left, you took that, leaving me with nothing. And don't bother trying to write me back out of pity, don't bother calling me out on NBC, and don't bother calling.\n\nThe old Taylor can't come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, 'cause she's dead.\n\nI can already see the headlines. \"Taylor Swift goes boy-crazy again,\" \"Yet another breakup for T Swift,\" \"The unsurprising split of Taylor and Joe.\" \n\nThe media will have a field day with this, I'm sure. But, as always, they'll miss the point. They'll turn my pain into a joke just like they have in the past. I won't be able to get groceries without having my own face stare back at me from the tabloids, taunting me with the lies and half-truths of their world. \n\nTo be honest, I probably wouldn't even recognize my own face anymore. If I try to look in a mirror, there's a blank space baby. You must think I'm being dramatic, but I've changed in the weeks since we last spoke. You know that the old Taylor wouldn't have it in her to confront you like this. To make you realize and own up to what you've done to me. But I'm not the old Taylor, for better or for worse. You and the whole world are going to find that out soon enough. Everything has changed.\n\nDo you know what it feels like, Joe, to be alone in the world? Not the stereotypical alone in your house for a few days, but the kind of alone where you can be surrounded by family, friends, fans, and feel nothing. The kind of alone where you can see yourself in the third person, where you go through the motions of the day because you have to spend all of your energy trying to simply get up in the morning, and if you manage to do that, you have nothing left to give. That kind of alone. Do you understand it? That's what you did to me. That's what the media did to me. That's what Taylor Swift did to me for allowing myself to fall in love with you. For giving you the key to the only room left in my heart, only for you to change the locks. That's why I can't be T Swift anymore, Joe. You killed any possibility of that.\n\nFrom now on, I am merely T Pain. This isn't something that I can shake off, this is the reality of my life. What this means for my music, for my fame, for myself, I'm not sure. But I'm not the smiling, laughing girl that I once was. She's long gone. But I have one question for you, Joe. Are you ready for it?" ]	1
	[WP] Death wasn't what you expected. You've been alone in darkness with nothing but your thoughts. Now after what seems like eons, you feel yourself begin to change. Something new is coming.	[ "Eons had passed in the emptiness, a single lonely body stranded in its boundaries. The darkness engulfed me, wrapping its space around my body, lifting me, protecting me, isolating me. It took no notice of time, moving but also staying still, flowing and flowing until it stopped, then started again. The darkness did not have concepts of touch or sight, just… occurrence. It took over my body until it became me, absorbing itself into me until I didn’t know what was real, or if anything real ever existed.\n\nI remember the final moment of life, at the same time; the first moment of death. It came quickly, like a hush, a blanket thrown over you. It encased me inside its walls, stripping me of my sense and thoughts. I was left a hollow shell, a memory of a creature, until I simply became one with the darkness; I became nothing.\n\nEternity felt like a second to me, and the darkness that I had gotten used to, yet did not ever really feel, slowly began to loosen its grip, becoming thin and weak. It tried to reclaim me, to hold me, to drag me back to its clutches, dark and hopeless. The darkness began to retreat, replaced by a new kind of emptiness. Not a desperate emptiness with despair and grief; a new kind of emptiness, the kind that only comes at the start of a lifetime. I saw opportunity, light, hope, a new start in the darkness, unlike the infinite and repeating obsolete black hole that I had spent the last eternity in.\n\nSuddenly, I felt a change in the air: a new kind of movement. A feeling. It took over my body, changing me, transforming my very being. It filled me with a purpose, a goal; something I hadn’t felt in a long time. It filled me with an urge, pushing me to change and grow into something I didn’t know I could be. The darkness continued to transform both itself and me, struggling through its own cocoon as it tried to break into a new world. It broke and reformed, shattered and fell, mixed and remixed into an aura of hope. I could feel myself accelerating too, growing and changing with the black river, becoming an entity.\n\nAnother eon passed as I grew into something else, someone else. I found an identity, a place, a sense of belonging. As I began to feel the world around me, I felt something; a soft wall. I could see the faint outline of it, light and blood-red, a mist of fuzzy air surrounding it.\n\n“Honey, do you feel that? The baby just kicked!”" ]	1
	[WP] As earth dies, the endangered species that roam the old paradise remind their offspring about when the gates of hell opened and the demons poured out. Demons now dominate and ravage the lands. After years of evolution they go by a new name. Humans.	[ "Listen, child, to the story of your ancestors. \n\nThe Legions descended long ago, led by their Kings. \n\nThey lusted after our fertile lands and temperate seas. They saw the world for what it was, and wanted it for themselves. \n\nAka Manah was the first to claim lands for his own. Amaymon followed soon after, with Moloch following soon after that. \n\nOver time, their legions became a single people with one name. Manah-Amaymon became Hamaymon, which in turn became Haymon and finally, Human. \n\nWe thought they could never win a battle against us. We were far stronger than they. \n\nWe were wrong. \n\nThey used a weapon we had never seen before, or even thought possible. The Cataclysm scorched the Earth, and it rained fire and ice for generations. The Sun hid in shame. As the trees withered and died, we found ourselves fighting an enemy we never anticipated. \n\nStarvation. \n\nWe turned on each other, everyone standing for themselves. Brothers and sisters tore at each other's throats for the last scraps of food they could find. We had not only been defeated, but eradicated. \n\nBut even as we faced death, the Demons had one more trick to play on us. They had decimated the land knowing they too would suffer, but they prepared for this. They reverted themselves into a form that could withstand the chaos, seeding within them the impetus to stand on two legs once again. They denied us the Earth so they could have dominion over it lifetimes later. We knew then that our certainty in our victory was folly. This land was theirs, they had made sure of it. \n\nThey display the bones of our ancestors as trophies. They defile our graves and burn our dead.\n\nListen, child, to the story of your children.\n\nFor it is you who will reclaim what is rightfully ours. Even as they burrow and swim nearer to us each day, we wait for the right time to strike. \n\nWe have watched our Adversary, and we have learned their patience. \n\nThey believe us gone. \n\nLet them. For now. \n\n---\n\n\n If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more from me, please consider subscribing to my subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/phreaklikeme/)! " ]	1
	[WP] You haven’t visited Flavortown in years. You’ve been too afraid. You’ve always been worried He might see you....	[ "The damp, gloomy cave entrance lay out before me. The rain poured down onto the light jacket I wore over my clothes. I couldn’t prepare myself for what I was about to see, but I know I had to enter this horrid place. I can still see some of the lettering on the long worn neon sign: “W com t fla o n!” I drew my breath, lit my candle, and entered into the passageway. As I crept into the cave my dread only piled on and on. The sound of raindrops slowly withered out behind me as I marched on for what seemed like miles. I almost didn’t notice the shine of my candlelight against the walls until I stepped in something sticky. The extra thick barbecue sauce not only stuck to the bottom of my boot, but lined the walls around me. I was getting closer. I began to become paranoid, looking at every corner and every crevice. As the cave wound and wound further the sauce began to gather and merge, making it hard for me move through. The sauce came up to my ankle before my boot hit something hard. I shuddered, before breathing in sharply, and looking down to see what my foot had hit. Lying there, in the barbecue sauce, was a human skeleton. But not any human. A child. I gagged violently before my curiosity forced me to take another look. The skeleton’s jaw was completely missing. It was too late to turn back now. As I continued onward, the barbecue sauce began to thin and I could now move more freely. I checked my watch. Shit, I was running out of time. I began to pick up my pace as I speed walked further into the place called flavortown. Suddenly, I heard something. I stopped in my tracks to listen closer. I hear the sound... of teeth biting into a well toasted Italian bun. I’m practically there. I chose not to let me fears control me any longer and walk forward into the cavern that began to open wider, and wider. Soon, my candlelight could no longer even reach the walls. I walked a few steps further before my candle shone on what looked like bookcases. One step further and suddenly a sweeping cold encases my body. I move closer. These were not book shelves. This was the world’s largest refrigerator. Cabinets lined with all kinds of lettuce, deli meats, spices, and extremely powerful flavors. Many of the foods were completely unrecognizable and appeared to be some of his own creations. His. That word made me shudder. I knew I had to confront him but was afraid of what I would face. I begrudgingly moved further as the sound of sandwich munching grew ever louder. The shelves stopped. I braved my self and pointed my candle further. Quickly, I could see a chair, a counter, and a figure sitting there, waiting for my arrival. In less than a second, the figure was gone, and with a swoosh of wind, my candle went out. It was completely dark and I was alone. With him. With one hand grasping my butcher’s knife, I call out for him: “Guy? It’s me. I know it’s been awhile but we need to talk.” I wait. Only silence responds. “Guy. This has to stop. What did we do to drive you to this insanity?” I heard something scurry to my right. “You can still come back. We can still do something. But you can’t live like this. These flavors... they’re dangerous! To you and me!” I heard the sound of scurrying again, but this time closer. “Come back, work the deli with me! I know you aren’t.. this! You aren’t a monster! You’re a chef!” At these words the scurrying stopped. A faint whisper spoke out to me, “I was a chef. That was when I still thought I could please the palettes of the scum beneath me.” “Guy, this isn’t you! Stop! Show yourself!” He sound of footsteps echoed closer to me. I backed away. They began to speed up. I ran backwards, but smashed into a refrigerator cabinet. It was too late. I said a final prayer for the ones I loved, before a flash of extra spicy hot sauce covered my eyes and my world faded to red." ]	1
	[WP] it's only now, sitting in an urn on the mantle, that you realize you should have been more clear when you wished for immortality.	[ "A low shhhh fills the air. The fan being turned on. It has to be a hot day, Nelly never turns on the fan, she was always too cheap. She preferred opening the windows or retreating to Starbucks for a few hours and using up the giftcard that her mother gave her every year without fail.\n\nThe floorboard creaks in front of me, it must be Melody. No one else bounces from one foot to the other like that. \n\nLisping slightly, her voice loud and clear in the still house, \"Mommy, is daddy really in there?\"\n\nSmash, something crashes to the ground. It's coming from my left, probably the next room over. The kitchen, I guess. Then there's an an angry unintelligble shout that has the air of a curse, and then bangs on the floor as Melody takes off towards whatever happened.\n\"Mommy!\" I can hear Melody cry, apparently astonished at the sight that greats her. \"Why did you drop the plate?\"\n\n\"We can clean it up later, Mel.\" Nelly sounds tight, like she's trying to hold the whole world on her back and she's struggling to stay standing. I can hear Nelly tugging Mel along, pulling her until they're both in the living room, with me.\n\nMel was never one to be distracted, and she goes right back to asking about me. \"Is dad really in the container?\"\n\n\"Yeah, Mel.\" Nelly says. \"He is.\"\n\nI can imagine what Melody looks like. She'll be on her tiptoes, her face all scrunched up, picking at the bottom of her shirt, trying to figure it out. She always was a smart cookie. \"How can dad fit in there?\"\n\n\"Well, after your dad died, they burned him up-\"\n\n\"They burned dad?\" Melody sqawks, sounding indignant as only a seven-year-old can. \"Why would they do that?\"\n\n\"So that he could come home with us. Don't worry, it didn't hurt at all.\" It didn't. I wasn't even conscious for it. I wish I could tell Melody that.\n\nIf I close my eyes, if I metaphorically close my eyes, I can still see the moment when I wished. I thought that I was done for, a broken leg in the forest and an unfortunately timed asthma attack, desperately wheezing, struggling to scream for help. \n\nHelp me, I said, I don't want to die! I don't want to die, I never want to die. Please don't let me die.\n\nThen the next thing I remembered was waking up, hearing the murmer of a prayer. Sitting in a tiny little metal container on a mantel. Dust in the wind, trapped.\n\nThere's a sniffle, and then a little sob. There's a quiet thunk of someone falling to the ground. Probably Melody, probably with a bunch of little rug strings curled around her fingers. A crescendo of wails. After a while, she quiets down.\n\n\"I miss dad.\" It sounds wobbly, the way that she says it. \n\n\"I do too, sweetie.\"", "Becoming immortal was a really big deal for you. You remember thinking \"OMG, this is it! I can do anything\". And then you went and did something stupid. When you're told that your immortal, you'd expect it means that you take no damage from anything, or you can regenerate like that girl from \"Heros\". Right? But nope.\n\nWatching your body being incinerated, scraped together and stored in an urn in the form of a lump of ash, puts things in perspective.\n\nLike, you should have been more clear when you wished for immortality. Or you should have valued your life more, even if it wasn't much. Something like that. You definitely shouldn't have jumped off that building just to prove your immortality. Did you even consider that it would still hurt like a bitch? And now, you're just that sad crazy person on the televison, who wanted attention and killed himself for it.\n\n\"I can't feel my feet\"\n\nBut you handled things pretty well, all things considered. Even now, you haven't even freaked out about it yet. You're in an urn! You went to your own funeral! It's just so damn fascinating, and equally terrifying. Yup. Really interesting stuff. For instance, the first thing you noticed after dying, was that you could still feel yourself and everything around. Despite the fact that you had no physical body or sensory organs.\n\n\"No one can save you\"\n\nAw, this shit again. Remember when that girl from your class went to your coffin and said she loved you and then she started crying all over your dead body? Well, that's when you decided not to start thinking that shit anymore. So just stay calm, and carry on.\n\nNow. People say there's five stages of grief that everyone has to go through before accepting a bad situation. So you start wondering if maybe there's even more stages? How could they know it's only five? Maybe no one has lived long enough to experience stage six through ten? Or maybe something amazing happens after 10.000 years of grief?\n\nWhile pondering the interesting questions, you suddenly feel someone approaching. It's mom. She gently dusts off your urn with a rag, quietly humming on a song. You couldn't miss the blank little drop in the corner of her eye, though...\n\nA sudden sense of guilt grabs you by the throat, as if you had one. You want to say sorry. You want to say thanks. You want to say something, anything. But you can't.\n\n\"Why did you leave us?\" she whispers. She moves on to a vase, next to your urn. You can feel the grip around your throat tightening.\n\nSo why did you leave her? You don't know anymore. Why, why, why. Even if you could speak, you wouldn't know what to say to her. You notice that the shadow has come back, it's lurking in the back of your mind now, eating away at what's left. It can smell your fear. All this time you managed to stay calm, to hide from the shadow, but now it's slipping...\n\n\"I don't want to be here!\"\n\nSTOP! Get a grip! You agreed not to think that! But it's getting harder and harder to stay sane... You're trying not to think it, but it fills your mind. Mom I'm sorry! I don't know why! I swear, I didn't know this would happen! Help me, please!\n\nYou know she can't hear you! Just keep calm! Carry on. The best you can do in your situation, is to keep calm and carry on. You know it sucks, but you're just gonna have to deal. Okay?\n\nBut as your mom cleans another vase, you can't take it any more, it’s not okay. Then another vase, and she steps away from you. You want to shout.\n\n\"I'm here! Look at me!\"\n\nBut you have no voice. Meanwhile your mom finishes dusting off another vase. And another one. After the last vase is clean, she walks towards the door.\n\nAnxiety kicks in. You can no longer contain the emotions. A flood of tears streams down a chin that isn't. You have to get out! Out of here!\n\nAs your mom exits, she turns towards you briefly; \"Good night, son\"\n\n\"MOM DON'T LEAVE ME!\"", "I wouldn't have thought it would be the malleus, of all things. The opportunity for the wish had happened so suddenly that I just blurted the first thing that came to mind. Of course I wished for immortality. I wanted to see my children's whole lives, to know the outcome of everything I'd put into them, the blood, sweat, tears, and boundless love. This, though, is torture. I lay surrounded by my own dust in an urn on the mantle in a house where neither I nor my children have lived for decades. \n\nI assumed, wrongly I now know, that my entire self would be immortal. But no, I am just the malleus, the hammer of what was once my middle ear. I retain some vestige of hearing ability, some remembered skill from when the whole apparatus sat firmly inside my skull. I listened, first, to the grief of my children. Then, soon after, their recollections of me-- not all as positive as I'd hoped. Alan, in particular seemed to feel that he'd spent too much time sitting alone in his room. That it had left him damaged and anti-social. It seems to me that he could have gone out more. That he wasn't punished quite so much as he remembered. Neither Alan nor James seemed to think that I was quite as bad as their Dad though. He was barely brought up, and only then as the sort of butt of a joke.\n\nFor a long time, then, it was quiet. How had I not made my wish to be scattered known? I guess we hadn't talked much about death. At least then, in the ocean, I would have been in a peaceful, muffled, bliss. Not trapped here, subjected to months of silence interrupted by the periodic footsteps of strangers and their commentary on the condition of my once prized home. \n\n\"We will definitely have to re-do the kitchen,. I mean, really, that mosaic tile has to go. So 2010s.\"\n\nThe Alan came back, this time with someone new-- Elaine. He and James argued, James insisting that he deserved half of what the house sold for, that Alan couldn't just have it. I haven't heard James since.\n\nAlan and Elaine moved in in summer. I knew because, before they installed an air conditioner in the window, I could hear lawn mowers running outside through the open windows. Almost from the beginning, they yelled more than they talked. And when they had children-- first Brody and then Jovi-- really, Jovi-- they yelled at them too. Mostly Elaine did the yelling. I was hardly ever mentioned until, one night Alan slurred to a friend, a woman he had brought home, that maybe if he'd been allowed to go out more, meet more people, he would've seen Elaine coming.\n\nFor years, then, there was silence all day every day, until nighttime when the microwave would ding and some inane sportscaster chatter would blare from the TV. Except on weekends, when every great once in a while, Brody would come. \n\n\"I can't bring the kids, here, Dad. It's really just a mess.\"\n\nAt least all that time I could tell what was happening. I could hear my boy, feel close to him, even if it was just the faint shuffle of his feet across the bare floor. For days, now, it's just been COPS re-runs. Occasionally a Law and Order episode. But I don't hear the microwave. And I don't hear him shuffling. And I think it would be time to turn on the air conditioner, or at least open the window because, although I have to strain to hear it, I think there are lawnmowers running outside.", "Memoir of a Fool\n\nTime is the most valuable currency available to humanity. The rich and famous can buy any materialistic good they need; the finest threads, the fanciest technology, even friends should they so choose that route. The hard working man is full of energy, energy that they pump into their projects. They work day and night, put all their hopes and dreams into their project and do not falter until they succeed. This energy and drive can take them from nothing until they are among the rich they had once envied. I know it can, I've seen it before. And I've done it before. That was the third life, I think.\n\nYou see, even though having the drive to become rich and powerful, in all their possibilities, they are potentially infinite if you are savvy and lack the moral compass to exorcise the power you have amassed. Time, however, is finite. You can turn time into money, turn time into hours spent working towards power. In the end, however, it all runs out. All the power and fame and money you earned becomes useless in the face of Father Time. He does not care for your trinkets and gadgets, nor your offers of fealty or riches.\n\nLike all of those that successes' hubris infects, however, I believed myself different from the people who went before me. All my riches, all my drive, it went into prolonging the finite span of life I had been allotted. When technology and science could carry me no further I looked into ancient writings and scriptures. Tales and folklore alike, I scoured the world to find a source that could save me. Surprisingly, my answer came from no known myth or legend, but rather from the simple urn I now rest in.\n\nI had gotten it from a rather daring expedition into an ancient tomb. The tomb's location was unmarked on my map of legends, and when I inquired knowledgeable minds about its presence, they were as clueless as I was. Concerned for whatever curses or hexes that could possibly lay in wait for me, I threw money at willing adventurers until at last the urn was brought to me. Apparently, it was the only thing waiting on a pedestal in the middle of the tomb. I waited for hours for something spectacular to happen, for this had been one of my last hopes for prolonging the wretched life I led. Hours turned to days, to weeks, to months, to years, until finally, my death could no longer be staved off. \n\nIt was when my vision was fading, my heart nearly coming to a complete stop when it all changed. I noticed it because I could no longer breathe, or rather, I did not need to, because everything was completely frozen, the incessant ticking of my greatest enemy finally stopping. In that pause, the voice from the urn spoke to me, spinning me a wondrous tale. Before he became the voice of the urn, he was a simple man, just like me, in search of immortality just as I had been. In his time, he had no technology, using instead mystical powers that would leave any today would never believe in. Using his powers, he tricked a phoenix, one of the last, and robbed it of it's essence. Yes, he would die, but he would be reborn, again and again until all that he wanted was his at last. He said his ashes rested in the urn, unborn, because he had completed all he set out to do and was content. He said he admired my goal, and now wished to offer me the same power he had stolen, to take his place in the urn and be reborn, so I could complete my goals. You can only imagine how quick I was to accept his offer.\n\nPerhaps I should have been more stringent in my criteria for immortality. Maybe then I would be able to enjoy it. As it is, every reincarnation pains me more and more, strips away pieces and bits that make up my being, and I fear by the time I complete my goals I won't be able to recognize myself. I can't stop, I can not admit to myself that the one thing I wished for, the thing I spent my entire first life reaching for was the thing I never wanted in my grasp.\n\nI can see them all. Every time I close my eyes or I sit in this urn, they are all that I see. Wife, son, daughter, father, mother, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, any family you can think of haunt me in my sleep, calling out for me to join them in a circle of peace that is beyond my reach. It is a hellish torture, one I would not wish upon my most reviled enemies, except perhaps to the one that did this to me in the first place. It is to you, finder of my urn, that I leave this letter to. I do not know what grotesque monster will greet you when you find the urn. I do not know what grandiose promises I will make to you. Do not listen. I want you to know that they are all lies, do not listen to me no matter how silver my tongue is. Even now my hand shakes, dark whispers I'm afraid to whisper are my own urging me to lie, to goad you into accepting my offer and freeing me, but with the last bit of mental fortitude I still possess, I write to you to leave. Leave this place, bury it, make no mention of it and perhaps no one else will suffer this fate. With how vile and repulsive each of my progressive lives are becoming, I hope to never meet you again. You came here in search of eternal life, for power and peace of immortality, to escape the clutches of the hand of fate. Give up, they are higher powers than us for a reason, you value life so much only because you have so little of it. Do not make the mistakes I did. Time and death will come for you, and when you meet, embrace them, just like I help other people do. ", "You probably lost your mind, at some point. \nThe urn was stuffy, and there was nothing. It was black and nothing but. Sometimes you could hear things, and you would have the joy of wondering how ash can hear, but then your mind would slip back to the madness. The blackness. This is the void. It stares into you.\n\nMovement. You don’t know how you can feel it, but you do. The urn is being moved. But not opened. There is still only blackness. It stares into you.\n\nYou tip over. Nothing about the view changed. You being to lose an additional bit of hope you didn’t think you had. You had written a will, after all. You didn’t think you’d need it (duh, immortality) but you heard how wrong wishes can go. Why did you ask to be cremated? That’s where you really went wrong. Or not specifying in your wish but then writing a will. What’s wrong with you? You can’t tell if the questions come from your addled mind or the void. It questions you.\n\nWhere do you think you are going?\nYou cannot escape this.\nIt is punishment.\nForever.\nHell. Your personal hell.\nYou will be here, with me, forever.\n\nYou accept your fate.\n\nYour urn is moved again. Movement has become the new normal, after all the eternity you sat motionless, now movement is a new eternity, an additional torture. Going nowhere.\n\nThere is light.\n\nAnd suddenly, here you are! Flung out of the urn and you see sky. Oh god, you had forgotten the beauty of blue, the tranquility and awe that color evokes. And trees! Mighty pines, sweeping the sky. Fluffy clouds, rolling over the vista...\n\nThey read your will. They scattered the ashes.\nThey set you free." ]	5
	[WP] Printing books for Dragons is a small price to pay for the safety of your village.	[ "\nSkaetha the Devourer's roar became a shriek as the human scale-cracker plunged it's terrible weapon into her unprotected hide. She managed to swat him across the molten field, granting herself a much needed break. Almost four days of unceasing combat, over mountains, through valleys, and even within parts of the Deep Below, all culminating in the volcanic paradise of Craggeth, birthplace of the Draconic Kin, first of the great drakes, had taken quite the toll. Bits of her luminescent scales had flaked off throughout the struggle, and exposed flesh could be seen in various spots.\n\nShe bellowed hellfire from her maw. The tiny creature she once thought incapable of even considering causing harm to her people had ended up slaying them all. She watched the small form dive behind an obsidian crag, easily dodging her attack. She reared back to let loose a torrent of flame, but a spear sailing over the hiding place forced her to snap her gargantuan jaws shut to deflect it. In no time at all the speck of death was bounding toward her, impossibly fast, gleaming with some unholy energy. Her claw collapsed on the form, but it once again avoided her attack. It was paces away now, shiny toothpick in hand. Skaetha and tried to unfurl her monumental wings but dragons were known for ferocity, not speed. The -\n\nA huff of warm air hit Gerand in the face. Only the man's eyes, made any movement, rolling slowly up to glace at the oversized lizard in front of him.\n\n\"Hm?\" He asked. His small voice echoed throug the tall cavern.\n\nSkaetha, the Devourer of Patience, sitting in her familiar cross-legged pose, held her arms in front of her as she leaned back on her wings like someone might a wall. The huge stony face peered down at the man, the light from his single lantern reflecting off her bronze scales. Each was as big as a dinner plate. \"I don't know, it just seems a bit..\" she began, the rumble of her titan voice laced with insecurity. \n\n\"A bit fantastical?\" Gerand asked after a couple of seconds. Skaetha's deep red eyes narrowed at him.\n\n\"Innacurate, more like,\" She said. Dragon or not, Gerand was accustomed to the universal feminine edge to her voice. It transcended the mortal plane. He would be wise to listen to the voice in his head begging him to tread lightly.\n\n\"I see. Well, since we're going for inaccuracies, maybe we should address the fire-breathing. Don't want to give people the wrong idea,\" he said, ignoring the voice. He picked up his quill, dabbed it in the ink, and started thumbing through the manuscript. Another sharper huff blew the pages into a frenzy. \n\n\"The idea is to make your tiny little selves strong, not turn my kind into slow pushovers,\" Skaetha said.\n\n\"Known for their ferocity,\" Gerand recited. \"Ferocity, Skaetha, as in ferocious.\"\n\n\"Yes, the big bad ferocious dragon that clumsily misses every attack and can't even smush a single flea,\" she said. \"You can call a dragon whatever you want, but when those pointy eared jerks, or those dirt-covered weirdos read this, they're going to see no big deal in trying to take down a dragon themselves.\" It was a strange sight to see such a legend of monster fables and scary stories throw up her arms in exasperation. To anyone familiar with the fables of dragons, they might assume she was gearing up to attack, but Gerand knew the truth. Dragons were the least violent creatures in the known world, and they couldn't afford the world to know that. Skaetha continued her rant.\n\n\"And now all the magical races have no use for your kind, the majestic dragonslayers, and the long peace we all enjoy crumbles to dust.\" \n\n\"Alright, alright, I'll make you stronger,\" Gerand said, scribbling on the manuscript.\n\n\"Oh you know it's not about that.\" Skaetha sighed, the rushing wind almost putting out the lantern next to the man. The dragon seemed to droop. \"Our people are living a lie, Gerand.\"\n\nHe grunted as he stood up, placing the writing utensils on the raised stone seat, and stretched. \"We don't have a choice. You know the alternative.\"\n\n\"But we're not heroes. We're not mighty.\" she said. \"We weave these tales just for the chance to exist.\"\n\n\"And that makes us undeserving of existence?\" Gerand said. His tone was sharp and he stood facing her with hands on hips, neck craned to look up at her large form, appearing to equal her in stature. She shifted her head to bring it even with the man and peered at him through one crimson eye. \"The elves are masters of nature. So great is their ability to manipulate the Essence that nothing can contest them,\" He continued. \"Do you agree?\"\n\nShe nodded slowly.\n\n\"The dwarves forge artifacts powerful enough to shatter continents and end the world. It is said that the demons of the Deep Below serve them out of fear.\" Skaetha had initially thought the man was about to give a pep talk to cheer her up. He continued. \"Your people and mine, we aren't that special. In fact, we can't come close to their ability.\" \n\nShe already felt better. \n\n\"And yet, what have we managed to accomplish?\" \n\nShe assumed the question was rhetorical, but the silence stretched an uncomfortable length. Opening her mouth to respong, the man cut her off, confirming that it was, indeed, rhetorical. \"We have managed, my scaly friend, to live among the titans through sheer will. We have more than survived, we have completely thrived.\" He threw his hands up in an elaborate display of pride, forcing a wide grin out of her. Humans always found a way to inject overwhelming amounts of drama into everything they did. The smallest creatures with the largest imaginations.\n\n\"Think about that. We build the legends, you create the fireworks, and the rest of the world accepts it. That, my friend, is earning the chance to exist, no matter how much the ethics of it stains your pure-white heart.\" She huffed defiantly, but she knew he was right. He always was. The two friends kept their eyes locked, sharing the silence.\n\n\"You know, I thought of a way to disintegrate a man without harming him. To everyone else, he suffers horribly, but its just a simple bit of deception and teleporting him to safety.\" Skaetha said, indifferently clawing at the dirt in front of her. \"I dunno, might make for a good show...\" When she looked up Gerand's smile had replaced his face.\n\n\"Would you do me the honor of immolating me, my friend?\" He said.\n\n\"Why, of course.\"\n", "19/14/626\n\nMost people assume Dragon’s Tongue is an easy language to write. It’s often said that there are but fourteen characters, three of which are used only for punctuation, and being more or less immortal the dragons have found very little use for past, present, and future tenses. What most fail to realize, however, is that while there are only eleven characters used in the context of a sentence every character has seven cases, each case being used to convey a different emotional or tonal inflection the speaker is trying to convey. What most also don’t realize is that dragons have terrible eyesight. One of the biggest reasons they ignore vulnerable infrastructure like trade caravans and orchards, but attack heavily defended strongpoints like castles and citadels, has far less to do with giving humanity a sporting chance and far more to do with the fact that castles and citadels are the only targets they can pick out amidst the blurs and blots of their vision. Because of these limitations, along with the more obvious limitation of translating from spoken Dragon’s Tongue to spoken Common Tongue to written Common Tongue to written Dragon’s Tongue all while maintaining the spirit of the original message, writing Dragon’s Tongue in a size, font, and style palatable to dragons is a long and utterly tedious activity. Whole days are wasted away printing a single word, sentences are a fortnight in the making, and over the last year of labor I’ve just now completed the first chapter in the the first book for which I have been commissioned, “Dragons: A History”, a title much shorter than that which was initially pitched and one which required no small amount of negotiation to tighten. As it stands, the title measures two cubits in height for each character and twenty three cubits in total length, though it’s been spread across two lines to fit the size of the pages.\n\nAll of that being said, I suppose this commission is preferable to the alternative. If I were again given the opportunity to choose between writing oversized textbooks until the day I die, and being reduced horrifically into a smear of ash across the smoldered hillside along with the rest if my family and friends, I’d have great difficulty choosing the latter. The dragons, for whom the entirety of my mortal existence is akin to the flicker of a candle, have been nothing if not lenient in their schedule. The work is done when it is done, and any breaks taken to refresh myself, whether they be a day of bedrest or a week long fishing trip, are met with nothing but apathy. This is not to say there are no time constraints, of course. If I don’t finish their books by the time I reach my deathbed, I’ve been assured that my body will be wreathed in such a terrible fire that my soul will continue to burn long after it’s left me. But, being twenty six years of age and in impeccable health, this threat is, with any luck, of no immediate concern.\n\nAs well, the assignment has at times been rather fascinating. I was unaware, for instance, why I was even needed until after I’d accepted the offer. I was ignorant to the fact that dragons, bound by an ancient and powerful curse, could write naught but their own name and would need scribes such as myself to pass on their words in writing. This part of their history, obviously, will be explored in great detail in this book they’ve requested. In Chapter Four, if memory serves me correctly.\n\nI can hear the king’s convoy drawing close. I requested the hides of eight cattle, which will be used to craft two pages. He has been of great help in providing me whatever resources I require, though my request for further hands to assist me in this project have thus far been ignored. Frustrating, but understandable. Only a tiny fraction of the populace can listen to Dragon’s Tongue without plunging into madness, making dictation impossible. A smaller portion still just so happen to be scribes, and apparently only one of these scribes just so happens to be the subject of this king. This speech induced madness and the rare immunity to it is a topic for another time. Chapter Three, I believe. For now, it is time for me to quite literally craft a new page.", "\"Ooh, yes! Drogon like that book!\"\n\nThe red and black dragon pointed a scaly finger at a copy of Animal Farm that a villager was reading.\n\nTall Bob, the village elder, was tired of Drogon and his brother~~s Viserion and~~ Rhaegal terrorizing the village. The ~~three~~ two dragons were known for setting sheep on fire, abducting the occasional damsel in distress, and stealing livestock. Tall Bob was tired of it, so he had asked what the dragons wanted in order for them to stop the attacks.\n\nStrangely, they had answered \"books. Lotsa books!\"\n\nDrogon wasn't very smart. When Tall Bob had asked him why he wanted books, he had responded simply, \"Drogon not smart enough to ace SAT's, wanna learn more, wanna learn more.\"\n\nAnd so the village printed them books. A giant printing press was commissioned and all the bookbinders in the village banded together to create the covers.\n\nDrogon had requested Animal Farm, and so they fulfilled his wish. Each page was read aloud to the printers who set the typing blocks on the printer, and the page was printed. Naturally, this took a long time and books could possibly take several months to finish printing.\n\nBut that was okay. Drogon sometimes forgot about his order and terrorizing the village altogether and would play with his brother in the air, far away from the village.\n\nWhen a book was finished, the two dragons would rejoice. Since their literacy was at a bare minimum, a teacher was hired to teach them their words. It was a strange sight, watching two large dragons read a huge, ornately bound book with a human perched on their arm guiding them.\n\nAnd so the village and the dragons lived together in harmony happily ever after.", "\"Are you here to kill me, noble knight,\" roared the dragon.\n\n\"Errm, what,\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm not ...\"\n\n\"If you are not here to kill, Sir, then what brings you to my lands?\"\n\nThe dragon lowered his head and purred his question. I could see the green,\nslitted pupils focusing on me. Each of them was larger than my head.\n\n\"No, I ... I mean ...\"\n\n\"No what? Speak, man, speak. Full sentences, if you can. You are not not here\nto kill me?\"\n\n\"I'm not a knight,\" I pushed out while I forced myself to look at the dragon.\n\n\"Not a knight? But how did you find my lands? Only a noble man of clear\nconscience and a brave heart can reach it.\"\n\n\"Well, I was in the city to buy parchment and leather and then there were\nthese robbers and I fled and then there was this storm and my horse ran off\nand I wandered around to find it and then I saw this cave and ...\"\n\n\"That's enough ands for the moment,\" the dragon said. He put his hands on\nthe ground, crossed them, then rested his head on them. It looked like a house\nrested on a pair of crossed trees. Very thick trees. With sharp and probably\npoisonous thorns.\n\n\"What do I do with you,\" the dragon asked.\n\nI assumed it to be a rhetorical questions and tried not to look scared. At\nleast not as scared as I felt.\n\n\"Speak, man. What shall I do with you?\"\n\n\"Errm. You could let me go?\"\n\n\"Is that a question?\"\n\n\"You could let me go!\"\n\n\"Yes, I could. I also could eat you, kill you, turn you to stone or cover you\nin amber. I know all my options.\"\n\n\"I could pay you. Will you let me go if I give you some gold,\" I asked. \"You\ndragons love gold, right?\"\n\n\"Well, yes. But I don't long for your tiny amount of gold. It wouldn't distract\nme. If you'd try to kill me instead, it would provide me with some\nentertainment. Before I eventually kill you, noble knight.\"\n\n\"I'm not a knight, I'm a printer.\"\n\n\"A what?\"\n\n\"I make books,\" I explained. \"With stories in them? You know, written down?\"\n\nThe dragon looked at me. I assumed he was puzzled.\n\n\"Show me.\"\n\nI pulled a book from my bag. It didn't sell because there were some smudges on\nthe title page. I opened the cover and turned it around. The dragon stared at\nthe letters.\n\n\"Read it to me,\" he demanded.\n\n\"Ahem. 'Rumpelstilzchen. A story of greed, betrayal, and courage.'\"\n\nFor the next hour, I read the story while the dragon listened with half-closed\neyes. Some time during the story he had shifted silently and looked over my\nshoulder.\n\n\"... And they lived happily ever after,\" I concluded and closed the book.\n\nThe dragon sighed. It felt a bit like the storm, just warmer and dryer.\n\n\"This hasn't happened,\" the dragon said.\n\n\"No. It's made up.\"\n\n\"And these people didn't live. Neither here, nor in your world.\"\n\n\"I hope not.\"\n\n\"A curious concept, indeed,\" the dragon said. It felt ponderous.\n\n\"I let you go, printer,\" the dragon said after a moment. \"For a price.\"\n\n\"This book,\" I asked and hoped to get out of this nightmare cheaply.\n\n\"Yes. For this book and a dozen more.\"\n\nI was too good a merchant to not seize this opportunity.\n\n\"You protect my village from the brigands and I will supply you with one book\nper month for the rest of your life.\"\n\n\"You're sure? We're kind of long-lived.\"\n\n\"After my death my children can take over. If you protect us, we'll supply\nyou with stories. Guaranteed to be made up.\"\n\nThe dragon nodded. \"Deal, printer. Under one condition ...\"\n\nI sighed. \"Go ahead.\"\n\n\"At this size the book is kind of hard to read.\"\n\n\"No problem. How big should I make the letters? The size of my hand?\"\n\n\"The size of your thumbnail would be ideal.\"\n\n\"No problem,\" I said while I calculated.\n\n\"The total height of the book would this,\" I said and held my hands one cubit\napart.\n\n\"I meant the total height,\" the dragon said. \"We're kind of far-sighted.\"\n\n\"Now that's tricky.\"\n\n\"You'll find a way, printer. See you in four weeks.\"\n\n* * * * *\n\n\"And thus, my ancestor, your ancestor, founded the company,\" I said.\n\n\"That's a fairytale, grandpa,\" Charlene complained. She petted Whipple, her\nAbyssinian.\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\n\"Yes. We learned in school that dragons were domis ... dimis ...\"\n\n\"Domesticated?\"\n\n\"... domesticated from cave lizards,\" the child lectured me.\n\n\"When is this story supposed to have happened,\" asked Leonard. Ranger, his\nEnglish Longtail, slept on his shoulder.\n\n\"Around 920.\"\n\n\"The printer's press wasn't invented by Johann Gut ...\"\n\n\"Don't say that name in this house!\"\n\n\"... Gutenberg before the 1400s.\"\n\n\"The plagiarist almost stole your legacy! Never forget that! Had he succeeded,\nyou would live in the streets instead of in this estate. And you wouldn't have\nall your toys and clothes. You surely wouldn't have pure-breeds for pets,\" I\nyelled. \"Rat chasers and garbage sniffers, that's what you would have for\npets!\"\n\nRanger opened one eye lazily to check out what disturbed his sleep. For a pet\nthat had cost the equivalent of a year's salary of one of my employees, it was\npretty boring.\n\nLeonard looked shocked.\n\n\"This wasn't just a story?\"\n\nI grinned. Leonard wasn't fazed by my explosion. I could see the doubt in his\nface. Right now, he was undecided whether to believe me or his teacher. With\nwhom I needed to have a word soon. It was one thing to teach the official\nversion at a public school, but my grandchildren needed to know the truth.\n\nI nodded towards the tiny book, not bigger than a grown man's thumbnail. It\nsat on it's pedestal near my desk. The tiny golden ornaments along the edges\nreflected the sinking sun.\n\n\"If you ask me the right questions, you can find out for yourself.\"", "Dragons. The enormous creatures covered in scales. Beings of wisdom, whose natural length of life seems like immortality compared to the life of a human. Beings of power, who can obliterate entire cites with a cough if they wanted to. Beings of might, respected by knights, praised by bards, feared by the folk.\n\nBut we are lucky. Our village is the sole remnant of a great kingdom of which other parts have fallen hundreds of years ago. We are protected. We have nothing to be scared of, because our guardians are those, who everyone else fears. Some have tried to destroy us, but whoever tried, they were always beaten and burned alive.\n\nOutside our lands, many wonder how did we make the dragons our allies. The truth is: we need them as much as they need us. Their wisdom, as great as it is, doesn't come from nowhere. The deal is simple: we make their books. The heavily decorated covers, the special fire-proof paper and the text. The text, written in the beautiful and complex draconic script they taught us, conveying knowledge at levels far exceeding what human wisemen even dream of. We don't share it. We were trusted not to. Our lives, legacy of the kingdom and the well-being of our friends and families depend on that." ]	5
	[WP] You don't have AllState, so Mayhem is making attempts on your life. He's getting better.	[ "I'm a road rage afflicted motorist.\n\nYou accidentally cut me off to make your exit, and I just know it was intentional. You were speeding by a few miles per hour, but not as much as I was before you got in front of me. You were just glad you were going to make it to work on time, and in a second you'll be ducking under a hail of gunfire from the handgun I kept in my glovebox.\n\nSo get Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n\nHey. I'm your stalker.\n\nYou thought calling the police was gonna to slow me down, and it didn't stop my love notes from showing up in your car. You filed a restraining order, and it didn't stop me from taking pictures through your windows. You got a dog, and that's not going to stop me from burning your house down in a misguided attempt to show you how much I love you.\n\nSo get Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n\nI'm a professional hit man hired from the deep web.\n\nWhen Rich Uncle Cletus died, you were in first in line for the inheritance. Cousin Randal wasn't too crazy about that, and now he's spent his life savings to set me on your case. I have a semiautomatic pistol, several varieties of deadly poison, a good imagination, and your home address.\n\nSo get Allstate, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.", "I'm a road rage afflicted motorist.\n\nYou accidentally cut me off to make your exit, and I just know it was intentional. You were speeding by a few miles per hour, but not as much as I was before you got in front of me. You were just glad you were going to make it to work on time, and in a second you'll be ducking under a hail of gunfire from the handgun I kept in my glovebox.\n\nSo get AllState, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nHey. I'm your stalker.\n\nYou thought calling the police was gonna to slow me down, and it didn't stop my love notes from showing up in your car. You filed a restraining order, and it didn't stop me from taking pictures through your windows. You got a dog, and that's not going to stop me from burning your house down in a misguided attempt to show you how much I love you.\n\nSo get AllState, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nI'm a professional hit man hired from the deep web.\n\nWhen Rich Uncle Cletus died, you were in first in line for the inheritance. Cousin Randal wasn't too crazy about that, and now he's spent his life savings to set me on your case. I have a semiautomatic pistol, several varieties of deadly poison, a good imagination, and your home address.\n\n*So get AllState, and be better protected from Mayhem like me.*" ]	2
	[WP] Your boat is sinking fast, and the thunderstorm makes GPS and radio impossible. Your crewmate starts frantically praying to any gods who might be listening to help. No sooner has he finished the prayer, than you can all hear the slow beat of drums, and see a huge viking warship alongside you	[ "We cheered as the long ship came up port side. With a mighty roar, a cascading wave of grappling hooks caught the side of my ship and snapped taut. \n\nThere was a beat of silence, then with another terrible roar, and our ship magically began to lift from the sea! I pulled my captain's hat off and waved it in the air, hooting with joy. \n\n\"Have you ever seen such majesty?!\" Erik asked arms outstretched, like a man in the throes of religious ecstasy. I grabbed and kissed him, thanking him for his miracle of piety and then rushed to the railing of the ship to watch as we were finally pulled completely free of the sucking waters. In just a few minutes our ship was securely bobbing in the water. She wouldn't be sailing, but she wouldn't be sinking either. \n\nI turned in time to watch a hastily constructed gangplank thrown between our ships and a man stomped down. \n\nHe wore battered armor, made of simple metals and leather. His helm was similarly unadorned, except for the large horns jutting from the temples. He was missing one eye but carried two swords on his back, each with a raven painted on the pommel. As he stepped on the deck of my ship, the moment of peace seemed to shatter like an egg, and the noise and violence of the storm assailed us all once again.\n\nI drew up as he approached and reached out a hand. \n\n\"Thank you for the help, sir!\" I shouted over the sound of the storm. \"We would be doomed without you!\" \n\nHe paid me no mind, focusing instead on Erik, who huddled behind me. \n\n\"Where is your sword, boy?\" He asked him. \n\nI turned my head a fraction to stare at Erik in horror. \"Did he just ask you for your sword?\" \n\nErik turned to me cringed. \"I just prayed to the gods to save us! I didn't even think they were real! The stories say they demand battle as payment, but I thought they was just that! Stories!\" Erik began to cry and I held him, watching the old god begin to grin. \n\n\"Fool!\" He shouted with a cackle and the rest of his crew took up the chant. Fool. Fool. Fool. ", "\"ARE YOU READY?!\"Booming voice plays.\n\n\"If you've got time to waste!\" A jumpy black man's voice sings.\n\n\"ARE YOU READY?!\"The chorus asks again.\n\n\"We don't come from outah-space!\"The voice sings.\n\n\"ARE YOU READY?!\"The chorus asks yet again.\n\n\"You've called on the right person...! So wipe off your face!\"The saxophone kicks in and out walks a strange 6 eyed, 8 feet tall man with a striped hat and a bow tie.\n\n\"I ain't nothing you ever seen before. Something deep within the core, you must be feelin' something deep right now, hey, I hope it ain't a bore!\"He sings, in his strange voice.\n\n\"So hop right off that sinking boat, and put on a raincoat, cause if you ain't wet by the end of this, you must be dry as the pope!\"He sings, dancing around.\n\nYou get off of your boat with a strange bedazzled escalator. You and your mates are given rain-coats, as suggested by the top-hat toting monster.\n\n\"I gotta be honest, I'm really sorry, 'bout that boat. But hey at least it ain't a Ferrari.\"He sings. His rhyming is impeccable, if a little goofy, but then again, he seems like a goofy guy.\n\nThe song continues for about 3 more minutes. And then he finishes.\"Take five guys!\" He shouts in a high pitched voice, similar to that of Tails from sonic the hedgehog.\n\n\"Praying for any god who can listen? Well that's my specialty!\"He tells you. \"But you could've guessed that...\"He laughs a bit.\"So, where to?\"He asks you.\n\n\"Uh.. First off, who are you?\"You ask.\n\n\"Isn't it obvious?\"He asks, laughing.\n\n\"Uh... And what is this?\"You ask.\n\n\"This is the best ship you'll ever be on! I named er' Haruko.\"He said.\n\n\"Okay and... What's with the song and dance number?\"you ask.\n\n\"Well uh... That's just how I greet people on ships... I've got a whole bunch of Televoids and Squidfaces who can play instruments here, so why not use them? You know, I've got friends from the other side, why not get toghether every once in a while?\"The man asks.\n\n\"Televoids and squidfaces?\"You ask.\n\n\"The guys with Tvs for heads, and the guys with squids for... Heads...\"The man says.\n\n\"But what are-\"The ship stops in the harbor.\n\n\"Sorry, but times up buddy! You can keep the raincoat and this card!\"He tosses you a business card.. The Architect... And as soon as you look up, you're in the harbor where you started, and the boat isn't there...\n\nAnd neither is your crewmate..." ]	2
	[WP] Every time you wish someone well in any way, they end up in unlucky and dangerous situations, the severity of which depends on the extent of your well wishes; the opposite is so if you curse them and wish them unwell. You’re about to give a toast at your best friends wedding.	[ "A wedding reception, several tables filled with friends and family are sitting and eating. Sitting at the head table is eight people; Stephen, the groom, Sarah, the bride, Albert, the best man, Susan, his date, and the parents of both bride and groom.\n\nAlbert stands and chimes on his wine glass with a fork. Chatting continues. A little agitated, he chimes again, this time louder. Finally, Stephen stands.\n\nStephen: Bellowing SHUT UP!\n\nThe room falls into an awkward silence, everyone slowly turns to Albert. Albert coughs.\n\nAlbert: Thank you, Stephen.\n\nFriends and family, you all know well my reputation regarding wishing people luck. For those of you that don't, ask Stephen and Sarah here. Steve still hasn't forgiven me about Vegas, but that is a story fir a different time.\n\nWhen I found out these two had met, I could not have been happier. Few people are better suited for each other. Now that they are together, I have this to say:\n\nI hope you both live short and disappointing lives. \n\nguests gasp, Susan smirks and rubs her forehead with her hand while shaking her head. Albert continues.\n\nI wish, sincerely, that you both catch the plague and suffer kidney stones. I hope you put the \"richer or poorer, sickness and in health\" oaths to each other into practice, on the \"Poorer\" and \"Sicker\" sides. I hope this marriage is a trial by fire for both of you. I hope you face each and every bump, bruise, fight, and fracture.\n\nStephen, Sarah, if we are right about the luck I share, then you know why I wish this on you. If we aren't, I wish it still.\n\nBecause the things that are built to last are designed to weather storms and misfortune. Love, the type that lasts an eternity, can put up with any ache or pain and make it through. It is solid, as firm as a rock and as immovable as a mountain.\n\nI've known you both for a very long time, and I know that is a bond you already share. No need to wish any fortune on something already well made.\n\nYou both have my friendship, and I am happy for you this day.\n\nAlbert sits down, the room is silent. The father of the bride begins to clap, and is joined by the rest of the guests." ]	1
	[WP] "It's natural for teens to act out," the counselor says. "The feeling of angst, being argumentative, summoning a demon to possess their body so they have to be around their parents--all normal."	[ "\"First of all, I think it's just great that we're all together in the same room. That's showing some real improvement.\" The counselor gave a smile to each of the people in the room and looked down at her notes, \"Okay, so, I just want to be clear--this is a safe space, we all want to be heard, and I want us to try to use 'I feel' statements, instead of 'you' statements, alright?\"\n\nThe middle-aged man and woman nodded their heads emphatically, and the scrawny girl with her arms crossed scoffed and looked away.\n\n\"Now then, Karen, can you tell us a little about what you're feeling today?\"\n\nThe girl rolled her eyes and slouched further into her chair, \"I'm feeling fine. I've been feeling fine for months, and I don't see what the issue is here.\"\n\nThe woman turned to say something, but the man spoke first, \"Sweetie, you know your--\" The counselor tutted and raised her pencil; the man tried again after clearing his throat, \"...I, well, your mom and I...it's just not really working for us anymore. It's not your fault, and we love you very much. We don't hate each other, we just don't love each other anymore.\"\n\nThe counselor smiled and nodded serenely and looked back to Karen, \"Now, Karen, how does that make you feel? Let's talk a little about the divorce, Karen, okay?\"\n\nKaren turned her head away and set her jaw. The woman cleared her throat and spoke instead, \"I feel like a major issue that Karen has is that she feels like there are too many changes happening too fast, and honey I feel that way sometimes too, but these are things we all want to talk about and the only way we're going to come out of it okay is by opening up. Karen? Sweetheart?\" The woman reached over to touch the girl's leg, but recoiled when she suddenly whipped her head back, eyes glowing yellow and laughing in a way that sounded echoed or layered.\n\n\"There is no Karen! I am Crasthuul! Son of Chaos and Sower of Discord!\"\n\nThe counselor tutted again, looking over her notes at Karen and giving an authoritative glare. Karen's body winced back lightly, and in the deep, echoed voice gave a sheepish apology. \"Well, Crasthuul, since you're hear we'd like to hear your thoughts too.\"\n\nKaren's body shifted nervously, glancing down at her lap before bringing a hand up to scratch her cheek, \"Well, you know...I don't know. This is a pretty personal topic, right? I'm just here because Karen summoned me to torture her parents, but I honestly don't have too much of a problem with them. I really enjoyed the quiche that you made, Rachel, before I had to spew it back out all over the walls.\"\n\nThe counselor nodded and took notes and Rachel gave a surprisingly happy response to the demon's strange compliment, \"Let's talk about that, actually. You haven't been in our plane long, right, Crasthuul? If I were to put a date, it's probably only been about...ooh, four months?\"\n\nKaren's head nodded, \"Around that. It was about Easter so I think it was five.\"\n\n\"Mmhmm. Now, I know that demons don't really ask a lot of questions in this scenario--\" she held a hand up to Rachel, \"--and this is still all perfectly normal, but what was your read on her when she summoned you?\"\n\n\"To be honest, she seemed like every other upset teenager that summons a demon. Pretty standard fare angst, if you ask me. We set the ground rules of not jumping in at school or with friends unless explicitly okay'd, but she wasn't even bullied at school or anything and she kept her grades up. That part was weird\"\n\nThe man spoke up, \"About four months ago was when we sat her down and told her the news.\"\n\n\"And in the month before? Was there anything that would have prompted this preemptively?\"\n\n\"Uhh...\" Karen's hand lifted, \"It's not...strictly to code, but I have an answer for you.\" Karen looked back at her parents and shrugged, \"She's not in danger or anything, it's just that we don't do a lot of deals that have family disputes. She wrote in her diary--\"\n\nThe counselor lifted her pencil again, \"Crasthuul, we use 'I feel' here, and I really feel like if this is something that Karen wants to say then she can tell us herself.\"\n\nKaren's eyes faded from yellow back to her cool blue and sighed, \"...I heard you guys fighting after we went to grandma's Easter party. I heard you guys say that you already had the plan, but you didn't tell me then, and you didn't tell me for a whole month after that.\"\n\nRachel gasped and put a hand over her mouth, eyes welling with tears, and the man's lip quivered behind his mustache. \"Oh, sweetie,\" Rachel choked out, \"We never ever wanted to hurt you with it. We wanted to talk to you about it, but we didn't want to pull you in until we had talked with our lawyer. We just didn't want you to stress out before we knew what it would all mean.\"\n\nThe counselor flipped her wrist and checked her watch; they were a few minutes over, but this was a huge breakthrough and she couldn't afford to lose this momentum. She checked her schedule as the three, and occasionally four, voices began opening up and baring themselves en force. As subtly as possible, she wheeled her chair back to her desk and tapped the intercom, telling her secretary to explain to the next patient that she'll be a little longer before Karen's eyes turned yellow and she heard the echoed voice weep that it had never known its real father.\n\n\"Please ask him to reschedule.\"" ]	1
	[WP] Every time a decision is made a new universe opens in which a different decision was made. As the multiverse grows it becomes harder for the powers that be to monitor it. Agents are recruited to close new universes. There’s a nice complicated way to do this and a much easier, more brutal way.	[ "Clint types away on his terminal, finishing the lengthy report he had to provide regarding the last incident he managed. Well, more like survived than managed. Working for an independent agency that deals with bad decisions that end up causing widespread disastrous results isn't an easy job, but the pay and benefits is good, considering that half of the prime universe has been annihilated by aforementioned bad decisions. \"Damage control\" is what they call it. Some say it's policing free will. Clint didn't care as long as he gets to live comfortably. \nAn alarm beeps and glares on Clint's terminal. \n\"Again?! Can't this guy keep his shit together.\" Seems this agent has been dealing with the same problem for the past few cases. He sighs as he picks up his standard issue hand gun and portable terminal. To us, it might look like a regular pistol and smartwatch, but this is the year 23xx and rest assured, our agent is more than equipped to handle things. " ]	1
	[WP] The year is 1669. A crew of dangerous & skilled pirates are at sea, when the sky above crackles and a Maelstrom briefly opens. From it, an abandoned but pristine condition US Destroyer emerges.	[ "Vane considered himself tame, as far as pirates went. He didn't drink. He didn't smoke. He was likely the only First Mate on the seas that never questioned his Captain's orders. And he'd never killed a man who didn't have it coming to him. \n\nBut as the cold rain lashed and bit at his face like a swarm of stinging insects, he swore under his breath, on Poseidon's name, that he was going to slit that fucking oracle's throat from ear to bloody ear the moment they made it back ashore. \n\nIf that moment ever arrived, at least. \n\nHe raised his face towards the bow, cupping a hand to the wide brim of his hat to keep it from blowing away beneath the furious winds. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but dark, churning waves and endless flashes of lightning all along the horizon. Vane didn't have the slightest idea where they were, or where they were going. Or how they would even know when they got there. \n\nI'll kill you for this, Madame Lore. He thought darkly. They breached through another huge wave and his pale knuckles clenched desperately to the rotten railings on the main deck. Kill you so dead that no one even remembers your name.\n\nMad, giggling laughter could be heard even over the din of the gale, and Vane shot a narrow eyed glare towards the Captain. Hendricks was at the helm, green eyes twinkling merrily even though his long red hair was matted all around his face like that of a rangy mutt's. The man's lips were chapped and cracked from dehydration, moving soundlessly to recite words Vane knew by heart after their week long journey to the middle of bloody nowhere. \n\nVane's hand wandered to the blade sheathed at his hip. He had followed Hendricks for a decade because the man possessed an almost unearthly calm and foresight that had done their crew well over the years. Time and time again, the Captain's quick thinking and composure under pressure had saved them from the locker. But ever since that damned oracle, the man Vane knew as well as he knew himself had been absent. \n\nAs if the Captain could feel Vane's stare, green eyes turned slowly and locked on him. \n\nVane shivered in a way that had little to do with the cold and everything to do with the unholy light blazing in those eyes. He knew that look well. Had seen it on zealots and martyrs time and time again right before they did something immeasurably stupid. \n\nLike sailing into the worst storm any of them had ever seen for a chance at glory. A chance to rule the seas that men knew of and then beyond. That's what the oracle had promised them anyway. Vane was becoming more and more sure the only promise they could rely on was going to be a slow, painful death. \n\n\"Faith!\" Hendricks yelled, voice breaking. \"What have I always told you?\" \n\nA freezing drop of rain hit Vane directly in the eye and he cursed as tears welled. \"Have it and hold it close, sir!\" He shouted with practiced ease, glancing out at the men on the deck, slipping this way and that as they struggled to keep them under way. \n\nI'd surely like to hold dry land close right about now.\n\n\"Amen!\" Hendricks took bath hands from the wheel to cross himself and a vicious wave chose that moment to knock them all to their feet, water soaking into their already soggy clothes. \n\nVane came sputtering back to his feet, coughing salty water from his throat to find the wind dying all around him, the rain turning into drizzle, the ocean easing. Except it shouldn't have been. The storm still raged in every direction he could see, but it no longer shook them with its fury. \n\n\"What in God's name?\" he muttered, wiping at his eyes. \n\n\"Not God,\" came Hendricks voice from right over his shoulder and Vane tensed. \"He'll have no part of this, brother. That, I'll tell you now.\" \n\n\"What is this?\" The rest of the crew was slowly finding their footing, their confusion apparent as the boat smoothly rocked from side to side. Several heads turned back towards the two of them, awaiting orders. \n\n\"This is our gift,\" the Captain whispered. \"Our cause. Our reckoning.\" He grabbed Vane by the shoulder in a crushing grip. \"The seas will tremble, old friend.\" \n\nA sudden shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, blinding him. At his side, Hendricks started screaming nonsense at the top of his lungs. Raving like a complete and utter lunatic.\n\nSeven prisons. Maidens on every coast. A bounty on my head worth a small fortune. And I'll die out here? Vane shook his head. No, I think not.\n\nBlinking away the spots dancing in his vision, he surged towards his Captain and captured the man by the throat. Vane pressed a small dagger to his throat, threatening to break skin. \"Enough!\" He snapped. \"There's nothing here. Nothing that we need to be apart of at any rate.\" \n\nGoosebumps were crawling along his skin, instincts working towards a frenzy. This whole thing was unnatural. The storm, Hendricks behavior, the gurgling sound of the sea at his- \n\nHe whipped his head Starboard to see the waves churning once more, spinning round and round each other until a whirlpool formed with uncanny swiftness. \n\nVane shoved Hendricks to the ground and strode towards the helm. \"All hands!\" he screamed raggedly, breaking the tense silence as the crew watched what was unfolding. \"Get us the fuck out of here, now!\" \n\n\"Belay that!\" Hendricks stood calmly, dusting off his clothes. Fat lot of good it did when they were all covered in more ocean than they were cloth. \n\nVane stared hard at the man, looking for the madness and not finding it. \"Captain?\" \n\n\"Forgive me.\" Hendricks cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. \"That potion from the oracle was a potent little thing.\" \n\n\"Potion?\" Vane frowned. \"What potion?\" \n\nThe Captain turned towards the whirlpool that had now grown to ridiculous proportions, yet it wasn't pulling them towards it. \"There's truth to the saying, you know?\" he called over his shoulder. \"Too much knowledge can drive a man a wee bit mad.\" \n\nVane sidled up beside him, staring into the dark water. He thought he saw a shadow looming beneath the waves but he blinked and it was gone. \"That was a wee bit?\" \n\n\"Hush now,\" Hendricks whispered suddenly, and Vane felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. \"Behold!\" \n\nVane followed the line of his Captain's pointing finger back towards the whirlpool. There was no mistaking the shadow lurking beneath the water now, surging upwards at a frightening pace. Sea monster. His heart lunged wildly against his ribs, the taste of his pulse filling the back of his throat. He wanted to back away. Jump over the edge of the ship and swim. Better the locker than a monster's gut. \n\nBut his feet were frozen to the deck, as if by an unseen force. He couldn't even turn his head. Glancing from the corner of his eye showed most of the crew in a similar position, their faces pale, bodies trembling. \n\nOnly Hendricks watched with a smile as the monster's grey horn broke from the depths. \n\nVane didn't breathe as the leviathan displaced the water around it, making them rock gently against the waves. And he didn't take another breath until the sleek, grey surface resolved into a shape that reminded him of the pyramids his great grandfather had spoken of. The beast continued rising until the long, sharp nosed base of it was completely above the water. \n\nVane narrowed his gaze, trying to see beneath the surface to the rest of the structure but it was hidden from his view. \"Is that...?\" \n\n\"A ship?\" Hendricks hummed happily. \"Aye aye, that's exactly what it is.\" \n\n\"But-\" \n\nHendricks jumped overboard, disappearing beneath the water without a word. Vane was left blinking at the spot he was on the deck, long enough that he heard the Captain calling him distantly some time later as he climbed a later aboard the solid behemoth. \n\n\"What's the Captain doin'?\" A voice called out, and Vane waved the question away absently. \n\nHow should I know?\n\nHendricks disappeared into a seamless grey hatch that Vane hadn't noticed before. A moment later, the unmistakable sound of his voice came booming out over the water, amplified as if by the gods themselves. Hardened pirates screamed. Cried. Vane felt a warm trickle go down his legs and he knew without a doubt that his world had just changed irreparably.\n\n\"Witness the dawn of a new world!\" The Captain yelled, voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere all at once. So loud, Vane felt his bones rattle. \"Come aboard, one and all! Come aboard, the Arm of Poseidon!\" \n\n**\n\nPirate's are totally not my thing but the other response was hella rude and I wanted to contribute. So yeah.*" ]	1
	[WP] You are part of a small percentage of invisible humans. You are being hunted for your skin.	[ "I live my life mostly being invisible and that's not an understatement.\n\nI'm being hunted because of my skin for crying outloud. I guess it's not really that hard to hide when you have such an ability to become invisible but it's a curse as it is a gift.\n\nI had to live my life a ghost to my family. I have a woman and a child that I love and had to stay away from them because of the skin hunters.\n\nSince when did having an ability equate to being an animal? Human's morality on what's right is really questionable on what we consider is a human. For example, back then when the whites discovered black and red- skined people they were branded as savages and slaves. Just because they have different skin means they are not human anymore. \n\nWhat was that?...Ohh like what Pochahontas said in that Disney Movie. \"You think the only people are the people who walk and talk and look like you?\"\n\nCan people stop being racist and stop judging people from the color of their skin?\n\nAnyways, it's too late now. \n\nSince they are hunting us, isn't it time for us to hunt them back?" ]	1
	[WP] You’ve been in a coma for 47 years, ever since WW3, you finally wake up.	[ "Lavenders and freshly cut grass. You follow the scent with your mind, chasing its drift every which way. Lavenders. Grass. Burning Metal.\n\nYou wake. The light is blinding. The whiteness pieces your eyelids. Your body aches. You try to move but your limbs resist. Your muscles are tired, as if they haven't moved for decades. They haven't.\n\nA white sheet underneath you sits scrunched and protruding, sending a constant pain down your back. You regain control of your legs. Stretch. The world dims.\n\nYou roll your head to one side. Arms slowly come up to your face, blocking the light, casting a shadow over your face. Your skin, you feel it. Rough, much more rigid than you imagined. A tingle runs down your finger as if makes contact with your face. Touching has never felt so real.\n\nYour eyes open, slow to adjust. Your head turns back up. The sky above you looms grey. No clouds. Or perhaps, only clouds. The surrounding is unfamiliar to you, the landscape barren. Just you inside your pod. A glare.\n\nThe glass cover of the pod is finally coming into focus. You can now make out the interior of the pod where you lay. Your arms barely had enough room to wiggle up to your face. You remembered, and took a deep breath.\n\nA string of letters appear on the glass dome above your eyes. ACTIVE VITALS DETECTED. DATE 07/13/2159, TIME 15:23:21. SOLAR CELL CHARGE: FULL. AWAITING ORDERS.\n\n\"Status report.\" your murmured.\n\n\"Current status unknown, last known communication signal at minus 411240 hours and 32 minutes ago. Battle status unknown. Location unknown, GPS offline. Last known location at 42.61335, -70.66744. Pod integrity at 37&#37;, heavy equipment damage. Life support active, fuel cells active, camouflage active, thrusters damaged, shields disengaged, auxiliary functions partially active. Communication via NFQ is active with unread message. Replay last message?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Message from Command 06/30/2112 at 09:40:32: CODE TARMAC: All units launch safety pods immediately. Incoming bombardment, nuclear grade. Retaliation in order. Execute Project Lavender. -- End of communication. Awaiting Orders.\"\n\n\"Scanner?\"\n\n\"Scanner damaged. Friendly pods detected within visual range. Heavy damage on pods, IDs cannot be identified. Awaiting Orders,\"\n\n\"Access mission log.\"\n\n\"Mission log initiated, displaying previous 10 mission updates. 1. Project Lavender executed. 2. Safety pods ejected to terminal velocity. 3. Electromagnetic interference detected: weapons grade. Thrusters damaged. 4. Orbital velocity lost, navigation is impossible. 5. High density shroud detected across major atmosphere. 6. Pod descent to atmosphere; emergency landing procedure engaged. 7. Emergency thrusters engaged, water landing location received. 8. Water landing successful, life support activated. 9. Awaiting further orders. 10. Systems inactive. Entering long-term hibernation. Awaiting Orders.\"\n\n\"Environmental analysis.\"\n\n\"Environment status: twilight. Atmospheric pressure stable. Oxygen levels low. Current Outside Temperature: -26^(o) Celcius. Humidity at 6&#37;. Active radioactive isotopes detected. Exit only in exo-suit.\"\n\nYou lift your head up to try and get a better look around you. Grey. The beach is lined with pods. Hundreds of them. Some of them had cracked domes, some were torn apart completely. There were bodies and limbs that littered the ground. The water is grey and receded, debris washed up to the grey sand like a barricade. In the distance you can see old buildings in shambles. Ruins.\n\n\"Motion detected within pod, please refrain from moving while life support is active.\"\n\nYou put your head back down and stared out of the glass dome above.\n\n\"Initiate emergency broadcast, NFQ, radio, infrared, and thermal.\"\n\n\"Emergency broadcast activated.\"\n\n\"Initiate automatic pod command and survival mode. Disengage all auxiliary functions and maximize life support operation. Activate long-term cryo.\"\n\n\"Automatic command engaged. Survival mode activated. Confirm long-term cryo?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nYou feel a sharp coldness on your back. The mechanical life support tube is pulled out of your spinal cybernetics port. The cryo has already frozen the wounds. Your head is numb all of a sudden. The light grows brighter and brighter in front of you and suddenly it dims. The scent of the lavender disappear as your body freezes over." ]	1
[inspired by this](https://reddit.app.link/gS4y5hmHwO)	[WP] When your child was born, you set up a photoshoot of you “discovering” them in a broken spacecraft, and hide the photos in the attic. 13 years later, you allow your angsty child to “discover” them.	[ "“You don’t get it, Dad!” Jeremy moans. “School’s full of these-these stupid humans and nobody gets me. Not even you.” \n\nI raise an eyebrow. \n\n“‘Stupid humans’?” My lips almost give away a small smile. \n\nJeremy rolls his eyes. \n\n“Yeah, Dad. Dumb ass fucking humans-”\n\n“Language.”\n\n“... dumb stupid humans. I don’t want to go to school anymore.”\n\nI sigh and sit down on the bed next to Jeremy. \n\n“I know it must be hard.” I pat his back. “High school can be a sucky place to be. Trust me, kids your age are going through changes in your body, and having all this work on top of that-”\n\n“It’s not just that!” Jeremy suddenly stands up from his bed and grips his hair, exasperated. “I’ve always... I dunno... I’ve always felt that I was... different, you know? Always knew that I never quite fit in with everyone else.”\n\n“Everyone feels that way, buddy. High school is rampant with those sort of feelings.”\n\n“Dad.” He stops pacing for a moment and crosses his arms, giving me a knowing look. “C’mon.”\n\n“What?” I try and put on my most innocent face, laughter boiling slowly from my stomach.\n\n“Don’t bullshit me! You know what I’m talking about!”\n\n“Language.”\n\n“Dad!”\n\n“Honest to God, Jeremy.” I raise my hands up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”\n\nJeremy stomps his way over to his closet and rummages around for a few seconds before stomping back out with a few pictures in his trembling hand. \n\n“What the fuck is this?” He tosses the pictures in my lap and crosses his arms again. \n\n“Language.” \n\n“Fuck that shit! Just answer me!”\n\nI slowly look down and could hardly stifle a smile at this point, my body slightly trembling to resist the laughter that had reached the back of my throat. \n\n“... So you found them.” I take a deep breath, trying my hardest to recollect myself. \n\n“Yeah, I found evidence of me being a fucking alien or something, right?” He grips his arms tightly.\n\n“Son...” I look at him in the eye, a somber expression plastered on my face. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”\n\n“Jesus Christ.” Jeremy stumbles back slightly. “So... so it’s true?”\n\nI don’t say anything. Tension fills the air. I always knew I was a drama queen. \n\n“Dad...?”\n\n“To be honest, I have no idea what you are.” I look off in the distance. “A while ago, I was hiking in the mountains with your mother and then... there was just this... this huge flash of light. Before we knew it, there you were, in this huge spaceship that had plummeted from the sky.”\n\nJeremy silently sits in his chair, drinking my every word. \n\n“So we manage to open the damn thing with the tools we had on us.” I continue. “And then it opens up and we found you.”\n\n“Sorry, Dad.” Jeremy interrupts me. “I’m not actually that interested in how you found me.”\n\nPart of me deflates. I had this whole story prepared for years, too.\n\n“Just...” he suddenly grabs one of the photos in my lap. “What is this?!” He points to his baby groin area in the picture. \n\nI almost burst into laughter. I had completely forgotten that I had photoshopped three penises on baby Jeremy in the photos. \n\n“Ah... that.” \n\n“That’s it?! That’s all you have to say about—about those monstrosities?!” Jeremy screeches.\n\n“You should be glad I managed to remove the other two without a trace!” I yell back and cross my arms. “I was really proud of myself for that!” \n\n“Oh my - oh my FUCKING GOD!” Jeremy is in hysterics. “YOU removed them?!”\n\n“Well you didn’t think your mother and I could take you to the hospital, did you?! If they realized you were an alien, they would’ve taken you to the government or something and do experiments on you!” \n\n“What.. no! No no no no no!” Jeremy grips his head and screams. \n\n“Yeah, I still have them stored in case you ever wanted to see them in the basement. I kept them in a jar.” \n\nJeremy’s mouth stays in an ‘O’ shape for a good twenty five seconds until I hear footsteps coming towards us. \n\n“Honey? Jeremy? What’s going on?” My wife rushes into the room. “I heard screaming! What’s going on?”\n\nShe looks at the pictures in my lap, looks at Jeremy’s shaken face, and then looks at my face that’s trying its best not to crack. She sighs and winks at me. \n\n“You told him about the three penises, huh?” She asks with a grim expression on her face.\n\n“Holy FUCK!” Jeremy screams again. \n\nMy wife and I quickly look at him crossly. \n\n“Language!”" ]	1
	[WP]: The monster under the bed crawls out, climbs onto your bed, curls up on your feet and starts snoring.	[ "\"w-what the hell?!\"\n\nyou say as you turn on your bed side lamp too see a strange black furred creature crawling from under your bed\n\n\"...what are you supposed to be?\"\n\nyou say as you look down horrified at the thing sitting there \n\nsuddenly the creature looks at you \n\n\"a..cat?\" \n\nyou say confused\n\n\"mrrrreoooowwww\"\n\nthe cat like creature goes.\n\nthe cat like creature proceeds to stand up, and stretch its back up into the air, its black fur glistening in the moonlight \n\n\"so...you are a cat\"\n\nyou say,\n\n\"mrrrewww\"\n\nthe thing goes,\n\nsuddenly, the creature jumps onto your bed, twirls around a bit, and lays down covering its face with its strange tail.\n\nyou start examining the cat and start to notice that it is not just a regular cat,\n\nit has a cat like face, and body, and paws, except the fact that its got tiny little black dragon wings, a dinosaur like tail, and little plates going across the back of its head, its back, and its tail, everything cover in thick black fur.\n\n\"so...what exactly are you?\" \n\nyou say to the cat light creature,\n\nthe cat like creature opens its eyes slightly and stands up stretching its back and tail into the air, as it does this, it glows a bright white, that fades away as it relaxes again,\n\nthe cat opens its eyes, its eyes seem to glow a mixture of purples and blues, you look a bit closer and see that its almost as if there were entire galaxy's in its eyes,\n\n\"whoa..i think i'm gonna call you...nightlight, sound good?\"\n\n\"mreoww\" the cat says softly,\n\n\"good\"\n\nyou say.\n\nthe cat gets up, and walks over too you, and lays down on your chest,\n\n\"good night little friend, sleep tight\"\n\n\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\\_\n\n/u/BLZ333 \n\n(i was thinking of maybe adding more too it, idk, i might at some point, i got some ideas but i dont think they would rlly work,) \n\n(hope you liked it) " ]	1
Edit: that would be quantum computer	[WP] You have just built the most powerful quantum in history, and you test it trying to calculate the last digit of Pi. And to your astonishment, it gives you a result.	[ "2.\n\nAll my calculations have waited for this day. All of the last twenty years of writing the most supreme quantum program known to the realms of mathematics. My fingers shake, as I write down the digit. Two. Two. Two. Two.\n\nI’m scared, of completion. This is my life, was my life. What is my purpose now? What is my strength, my weakness, my true nemesis and greatest ally? What? My trembling fingers click the digit, as the computer begins to wrap the digit. It is complete, it is done. I am a pioneer, a revolutionary. A new generation, so to speak. I am a god amongst mortals, a grandmaster among plebeians. \n\nI am. I am. I am. I am. I am. I am.\n\nAll that is in my head is 3.14 3.14 3.1415 3.1415 3.1415 3.1415 3.1415\n\nThe rhythm is exciting, the beat exhilarating! I feel as if I want to touch the sky, to rise up to God and sit beside him as a ruler of heaven. I am commanded by the melody, controlled by it. I climb up on to the balcony, gazing down lovingly at the peons below. What a beautiful day it is. \n\n3.14153.14153.14153.14153.1415\n\n22222222222222222222222222222\n\nI leap, ready to see God. I am ready to touch the heavens.\n\nReady to soar.", "“Heeeeeere am I floating in my tin cannnnnnn! Farrrrrr abovvvve the worrrrrrld!”\n\nI’ll be the first to admit that I’m an abysmal singer. My coworkers at Quantum Leap Research invite me out to karaoke every week, and I always have an excuse. But tonight I found myself shouting along with the David Bowie record playing in the corner of my studio apartment. Drowning in half a bottle of Jack Daniels, though, has definitely helped lubricate my willingness to sing.\n\nI’ve been drunk for nearly a week now. It’s the only thing that seemed worth doing since I discovered \\it\\. That is, nothing seems worth doing anymore - truly nothing is.\n\nI haven’t told anyone about my discovery yet either. I don’t think I will, but now that we have the power - quantum computing - someone else will soon. I just don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, I guess.\n\nAt face value, my discovery could not seem less significant; It’s only a single digit, afterall. But it’s \\the\\ digit. The digit that Pythagoras and countless other men have sought for centuries. I have found the final digit of pi. In case you care, it’s 4.\n\n“Plannnnnet earrrrth is bluuuuuuuue, and there’s nothing I can dooooooooo.” I took another sip and started coughing uncontrollably as the whiskey slid down the wrong pipe, searing the back of my trachea. There was a knock at the door.\n\n“Go away!”\n\nThe knocking got louder.\n\n“GO AWAY, I SAID! Can’t you see that I’m floating in my tin can?!” I chuckled to myself as I incorporated the lyric.\n\nThe knocking picked up and nearly shook the apartment.\n\nWhy won’t they just go away, I thought? I dragged myself off the sofa and stumbled over to the door. “Who issss it?” I slurred.\n\n“It’s John. We need to talk. Open up.”\n\n“Shit John. There ain’t no point in talking. Let’s just drink,” I said as I slid the latch open. I opened the door to see my coworker standing in the frame, looking as stern as ever. “You look so cranky John.”\n\n“We need to talk about what you discovered,” John said, very seriously.\n\n“Jack Daniels,” I said lifting the bottle in his direction, spilling a bit on the floor in front of him as my arm swung loosely. “I discovered Jack Daniels and ice cubes. And it is good.”\n\n“Yes, I can see that,” he said, waving the stench of mash whiskey from his face. “But we need to talk. Now.”\n\n“Ok, ok, calm down, Mr. Sassy pants,” I said as I turned back to the couch. “So how d’you know about my big discovery?”\n\n“I have the same access to the computer that you do,\" John responded. \"And you did not do a great job deleting your logs. You haven’t been to the lab in over a week, so I got nosey.”\n\nI gave him a hard look, “You shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”\n\n“No, I haven’t.”\n\n“Good.”\n\n“But I’m going to,” he said, defiantly. “You’ve made a massive discovery, and you’re not doing your scientific duty to reveal it to the world.”\n\n“Massive, yes. But it’s shit. Nobody needs to know about it. Let the people live their simple, oblivious lives.”\n\n“What are you talking about?” He asked, genuinely baffled. “Yes you’ve proven the non-existence of irrational numbers, but… but why all this?” He gestured to the bottle of Jack and the overturned chair below my kitchen table.\n\nI opened my eyes wide and stared at him. “You don’t get it do you? You haven’t deciphered what this really all means. It’s not about a friggin’ number, John. This is about our existence.”\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n“What is pi, John?” I asked rhetorically. “It’s the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter.”\n\n“Ok…,” John said, not grasping where I was going with this.\n\n“And a perfect circle would have a ratio that repeats ad infinitum. But what I've just proven, John, is that the ratio stops. There cannot possibly be a perfect circle! It cannot be constructed! And do you know what that means?! It means that I’ve found the smallest indivisible unit that can be circumscribed. I’ve found the proverbial pixel.”\n\nMy coworker sat back and pressed his hands to his temples. It seemed he was beginning to grasp the true meaning of my discovery. It was about time.\n\n“That’s right, John. I’ve discovered the building block of our universe. Our universe is pixelated. And why is that? Because we are living in a fucking simulation.”\n\nHis eyes went wide, indicating that he had made the final connection.\n\n“And do you know how I know that, John? Because I know that you’ve been using the same computer to architect the simulation. And someday the inhabitants of the universe that you’re creating will make the same discovery that I just have. And so on, and so on... simulations all the way down.”\n\nI took another swig and handed the bottle to John.\n\nedit: a word or two, for clarity's sake" ]	2
	[WP] He asks "What would you like?" and the kid responds "I want my grandfather back". After a pause...the balloon artist gets to work.	[ "The man emptied his lungs into the long balloon in great bursts. Curiously, it seemed he was whispering something into it with each exhale. He inflated the balloon with gasps of his smoky breath, then he began his work of feverishly twisting the balloon with a series of creaks and squeaks. His long, yellowed nails gripped the thin latex, and the boy was certain the balloon would pop. But it did not. \n\n\nGreasy strands of long hair clung to the man's forehead, peeking beneath his top hat. The gleam of fresh sweat shone on his face, and his expression was devoid of the typical smile that those at the carnival often wore. His eyes were deeply set beneath thick eyebrows, and his face had the pained focus of someone undertaking some intensely laborious task. \n\n\nHis wrists twisted in opposing directions, forming the limbs of his creation. He twisted the legs, and a pair of knobby knees. Then he formed the feet. Then he made the arms, hands, and finally the head. For all of the man's efforts, the finale was quite lackluster. He had spent nearly two minutes forming what turned out to be a simple stick man. \n\n\n\"Here you are, boy,\" The man said, handing the boy the red balloon man. \"Here is Charles.\"\n\n\nThe boy held it between his hands. The late evening glow reflected off its glossy texture. \n\n\n\"Thanks,\" the boy said and forced a quick smile to the man. \"How much does this cost?\"\n\n\nThe man pulled the top hat from his head and gave a quick but grandiose bow, revealing his thinning scalp. Then he flashed a smile exposing yellowed teeth and said, \"No fee. Just be sure to take good care of him. Come back if you'd like another.\"\n\n\n\nIt was only after the boy had walked away from the booth that he'd remembered something that stopped him in his tracks: He had never told the man his grandfather's name. \n\n\n\nThe boy did return to the man with the balloons. The following evening he had made his way past all of the booths and vendors, and past the shouting and bustle of carnival games. He practically ran when through the crowd, he finally saw the man's pale face grinning back at his own. \n\n\n\"Ah, young man! I see you've returned,\" He gave a wide smile. \"And I suppose you'd like another balloon?\"\n\n\n\"He's-he's real!\" The boy nearly shouted with exuberance, \"My grandpa, he's... He's actually in the balloon! We talked all night. How did you do that?\"\n\n\nThe man pressed a crooked finger to his lips, \"Shhh... one must not question the ways of magic. Just... simply enjoy it.\"\n\n\n\"Can I get someone else?\" The boy asked, and to this, the man gave a careful look of consideration. \n\n\n\"Well... you see, there is a sort of balance to this kind of magic. I can give you the soul of another being... but I will need the soul of someone yet alive. Does this make sense to you?\"\n\n\n\nThe boy nodded, the frenzied expression remaining on his face. \"Sure, but I can bring back anyone?\"\n\n\n\"Certainly,\" The man said. I can give you anyone you wish, but as I stated before... there must be a soul for a soul.\"\n\n\n\nThe boy furrowed his brow in concentration, then finally gave a firm nod. \"I want Ranger. My dog, Ranger. He got hit by a truck last fall. I want him back.\"\n\n\n\"Splendid!\" The man shouted, \"I enjoy making doggies.\"\n\n\nFrom his breast pocket he pulled a pad of paper and a pen. Several names had already been scrawled throughout, and he turned to an empty page. \n\n\n\"Simply write the name of someone you know on this page, and I'll give you Ranger.\"\n\n\n\"That's it?\" The boy asked, \"Just write a name?\"\n\n\nThe man nodded.\n\n\nWith focused deliberation, the boy slowly wrote a name on the page. With the same intensity as before, the man shaped a dog, and after a couple of minutes, handed it to the boy.\n\n\nThe boy held the dog between his hands and quietly asked, \"Ranger? Are you in there?\"\n\n\nHe held its muzzle to his ear. \n\n\nThe boy listened for a few seconds, then began bouncing with glee. \"Can I do another? Another?\"\n\n\nA deep laugh escaped the man, \"Of course, son! I can make as many as you wish. After all, I have plenty of pages and ink!\"\n\n\n.\n\n\nIt was the deep purple of late twilight when the boy made his way home. The house was dark and empty. His mother was not in the kitchen preparing dinner, and his father was not reading the newspaper and smoking his evening cigarette. It was as though they were simply plucked from the home like dolls from a dollhouse. He ran upstairs, disregarding the rule of kicking off his shoes while inside. It was irrelevant now. \n\n\n\"Grandpa! Grandpa!\" The boy shouted. \"Look who I got!\" He set two balloons on his dresser, next to the red stick man. \"I brought Grandma back! Just like you wanted. And I got Ranger!\"\n\n\n\nThe boy's smile reflected in the shine of the balloon, and he pressed the face of it to his ear. \n\n\n\"You want me to bring back who?\" He listened carefully and slowly nodded. \"That's a whole lot of people, Grandpa. Who should I put on the balloon man's list?\"\n\n\nThe boy nodded carefully, \"Okay, Grandpa.\" He had almost placed the balloon back on his dresser when he paused and asked, \"Can I also bring back my cat, Marvin?\" \n\n\nHe listened and then shouted in reply, \"Thanks Grandpa! You're the best! We're going to have a great time together!\"\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Everyone has a pager which alerts the owner if they take a course of action that would have otherwise resulted in their death within an hour. You do something you’re sure would prevent your death, but your pager stays silent...	[ "I wasn't the biggest guy in the room by far, but I was the only one that stepped in to intervene when a screaming match ensued between a man and - presumably - his girlfriend, and he rose up and slapped her.\n\nOn the other hand of the spectrum, this woman beater was, by far, the biggest guy in the room, and had enough scars to prove that he wasn't just big for nothing. He had experience, if anything, regardless if he could fight.\n\nSo, the outcome was that I found myself looking up at this miniature Hulk, with no back up, while his partner clutched her bruised cheek and stared at me with a mixed look of awed sympathy. Awe that someone would actually come to her defense, and sympathy that I was about to get killed in the process.\n\nHe looked down at me and dismissed me in the same glance, turning his attention back to her.\n\nAnd that's when I broke a bottle over his head. He's lucky...I usually carry a gun.\n\nYou know those cartoons/movies/books where one guy breaks a bat, bottle, or bar stool over the back of the other guy's head and the other guy is completely unaffected? Yeah, that. That happened.\n\nAnd you also know in those cartoons/movies/books where after the guy hits the other guy, the first guy stands around and waits for the other guy to turn around and recover? Yeah, that. That didn't happen.\n\nI stuck a piece of broken glass in his neck. \n\nIf he had somehow managed to be unharmed by that, I would've gave up and stabbed my own self to death right there in the bar. Luckily, for me, he was still somewhat human, and he began to die.\n\nThe rest of the guys in the bar, now that I had made the giant vulnerable, saw their chance to make up for their early cowardice and they jumped in to put hands, feet, insults and spit on him.\n\nSomehow, me and her ended up in a seedy hotel room doing seedy hotel room things. Then I fell asleep and in my dream remembered that my pager hadn't went off in the meantime. \n\nWhen I woke up it was still dark, and harder to breath. I tried to sit up but the soft suffocation pushed me back down, and that's when I realized my face was under a pillow.\n\nI could have fought harder, probably, if I wasn't already half-starved by oxygen (or if my hands and legs weren't bound to the bed posts from our earlier kinky activities), but in the storm of panic and darkness that overtook me I heard her voice, soft and light, whisper in a hush:\n\n\"Just relax. It's just a game. Enjoy it.\"\n\nHadn't I had heard of people suffocating themselves to get boners before? Giggity gitty goo-yeah\n\nAnd wasn't I getting one at the moment? I'm not going lie and say no.\n\nA part of me still thought that there was some kind of scientific explanation for why I was getting \"aroused\" - something to do with the blood in my body trying to escape by rushing out my dick. I don't know.\n\nBut I did know that she had said it was just a game. So I relaxed, thought of it as a game, and enjoyed it.\n\nMy pager stayed silent. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "More will come later, gotta get back to work for now though. Also, not quite the same but similar I think.\n\nMichael looked at his pager as he woke that morning feeling extremely hungover. He recalled the value changing last night but his memory was groggy. 12/04/2057 was displayed as he looked down, the day of his death. It was just 3 days away! Now usually this would be a major cause for panic, but Michael knew that this wasn't set in stone. There was a stage of his life where he was a few hours away, but thankfully staying home that day instead of going out for drinks managed to change that. What Michael didn't understand though, was that just yesterday he still had 26 years to live. What happened last night that changed his due date?\n\nHe couldn’t deal with this right now though, he was just feeling way to sick. He dismissed it from his mind briefly as he went to the bathroom, pretty much crawling all the way there to vomit. “Jesus” he said as he held onto the toilet bowl, “What the fuck happened last night. How much did I fucken’ drink!?”\n\nHe rolled over onto his back to lay down on the cold floor as he looked at the ceiling. “I’m so fucked” he thought. He reached for his phone in his pocket and dialled one of his mates he was out with last night. As he did he felt his pager vibrate, 10/04/2057. “What the fuck!” He immediately hung up, before his friend got the chance to answer smashing his phone one the ground in the panick. “That’s fucken tomorrow” he shouted. His pager vibrated again; 12/04/2057. \"“I need to find out what happened last night\". \n\nHe got up splashed his face and noticed some blood on the back of his hand he didn’t notice before. “Wait what?” he thought, “Am I bleeding?”\n\nHe rinsed it off, noticing that it all came off to reveal no injury. He stared blanky at it for a while till suddenly it all came to him, and boy was he fucked. He ran to his room and checked for tha bag under his bed. It was exactly where he remembered putting it. He closed his eyes as he opened it, hoping he was wrong, hoping what he thought was going to be inside wasn’t going to be there. Slowly you could hear the zip being pulled open, like an early morning when you climbing out your tent trying not to wake those sleeping. He held his breath as he opened one eye. “FUCK!”." ]	2
	[WP] For as long as the White One exists, the Empire will prosper.	[ "First response to a writing prompt, hope you guys like it and I'd appreciate any feed back, good or bad!\n\nThe Grand-Vizier strode purposefully down the highly decorated corridor, past motionless guardsmen in golden armour, towards the great doors of the throne room. Two large men stepped forwards and grasped the two ornate, golden rings set into the doors and cast in the likeness of snarling lions. They strained their muscles to the task and the doors opened smoothly, soundless despite their vast size. Not even sparing the two slaves a glance the Grand-Vizier passed beneath the carved stone lintel and into the great room beyond. A gold trimmed carpet, the product of generations of craftsmen, laid atop the marble floor and the Grand-Viziers silk slippers did not make a sound as he seemed to glide across the fabric towards the enormous throne that faced him. His eyes always diverted from the human form of the god that sat in the throne he prostrated himself as he neared the raised dias the throne was perched atop of.\n\n“You may rise Pnei-hor and speak of your news” a deep bass voice announced as the Emperor's Seneschal stepped forwards. As the only man who heard the Emperor’s voice the Seneschal’s political standing was second to none and so he did not have to use Pnei-hor’s official title, though the Grand-Vizier knew that the man would never have the same power he yielded - the Seneschal’s were selected from honoured houses each morning and executed each night, for none that heard the voice of a God could continue life. \n\nRising to his feet the Grand-Vizier kept his eyes fixed on the carpet at his feet and spoke into the echoing silence of the room.\n\n“Oh Almighty One, I am unworthy of your grace” The Grand-Vizier began, using the traditional opening to any dialogue with the God-Ruler of the Empire. “I bring grave tidings from Jaladair, I have travelled from there as fast as possible. Oh Almighty One, The White-One is fading, none of the sages or wisemen can divine what has happened, she seems in perfect health but she is weakening daily. Almighty One, we fear she may not recover from what plagues her.”\n\nThe Grand-Vizier prostrated himself again, pressing his nose into the weave of the carpet. He knew the news he had carried forth was the worst he could have provided, especially as he was unable to provide an answer or solution to the troubles. He fully expected this message to cost him his life, as the Grand-Vizier was the one responsible for keeping The White-One alive.\n\nIt had began many centuries ago, after the first Emperor descended from the heavens and lead the Mepran people in their Great Wars. The victories he led the armies to where the heat that forged the Empire and pushed back the forces of darkness. From the blood that stained the sands red a nation grew, like a tree casting its shadow from sea to sea. No one could stand against the God-Ruler’s holy light. When the dust of war settled the rebuilding began, with the great cities rising from the desert oases like ant hills. Wealth poured from mines and trade and and the river of gold produced never before seen opulence, and grand palaces were built on the backs of captured enemies, marked by the whips of the overseers.\n\nIt was as the Empire entered this golden age that they heard of The Prophecy. A blind old seer was heard to enter the dream state, and the vision she saw was of an unbridled power. Unmatched and unquestioned the seer’s vision of the Empire stretched for generations with countless numbers under its control and immeasurable wealth at its disposal. In the vision the God-Emperor sat atop a great pyramid, built by and worshipped by an endless sea of his subjects. Boundless power would belong to him and his heirs. \n\nBut the seer saw something else too. The great gold-topped pyramid was held up by a figure, a woman as white as the pyramid stones, who held the massive monument to the Emperor on her shoulders. The White One held the fate of the Empire. The vision cost the seer her life, the power of the vision burst the heart in her chest like an over ripe fig that fell from a tree, but the last words she uttered before collapsing into the dirt were echoed from a thousand lips; “For as long as The White One lives, the Empire will Prosper”." ]	1
	[WP] You're having a heated argument with your partner over text messages. You send a response and turn the tv on to reveal the news, there has been a car crash an hour ago not too far away. The face of the first victim comes on screen, its your partner. Your phone lights up.	[ "'Danny answer Me!' The phone reads I look down and see the past three messages I missed. 'What's going on!' He continues. \"how...\" i mutter and look back up at the tv, It shows his broken body and I squeal and look away. 'You're not Mark' I type, the screen shows three bubbles and soon text appears again. 'What do you mean' the text says. 'Y-your supposed to be in a car crash' I type, I keep looking at the screen. It shows his name, mark turren.\n'How do you know' he types slowly and I back against my couch, my cat jumps up wanting comfort so I pull him close and kiss his head 'it's on tv' i type \"What the fuck\" I mutter. He doesn't type so I get up and put my coat on, I'm going to see my fiance. I get in the car and as I drive across a bridge my phone lights up again 'watch. Out.' The phone reads. Suddenly a man crosses the street in front of me and I swerve into a book stand. The books tumble as I scream and get out of the car my undamaged phone in hand. As I get out i start walking to the hospital on a block away. I get to the hospital every painful step leading me there, I clamber inside a few patients stare as I reach the front desk. A lady no older than I looks up \"sir are you okay\" she asks I frown \"I'm here to see, mark turren\" I demand, she hands me a form and shows me where to sign. I place my fingers on the pen and messily Wright my signature. \"room 24 on your left\" she sighs and I run to the small room. Mark sits up on the bed as I walk in \"ow\" he says and lays back down \"mark are you okay!?\" I ask. He looks at me \"Why are you here\" he asks \"cause I love you\" a tear falls \"Thank God your okay\" I continue \"I missed you\" he mutters. I wrap him in a hug \"your not safe yet\" I say \"Then we will be\" he says and I kiss him before lying in his arms and falling asleep.", "The sleek, shimmering cherry wood of the Brookhaven desk vibrated Arthur's arm again. He gritted his teeth for the twelfth time, grinding off some of the enamel. Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he languidly looked to the iPhone X that sat next to his keyboard to see the taunting notification: \"You just can't control yourself, can you?\" it showed. More enamel lost, and he wrapped his large hand around the phone. He dropped his arm, ready to throw it, but he knew it would be of no consequence. She would still be texting him. Even with a phone shattered into a million pieces, he would know.\n\nHis chest heaved one more time before he looked again at the screen. He swiped his finger across the smudge that bore an imprint of his fury. He was always loathe to text. Phones weren't made for his large hands. As he fumbled through the words, his anger started returning with every wrong autocorrect change. He groaned and growled and gritted his teeth some more before finally hitting \"Send\" and dropping his phone back on top of his desk, both hoping for the phone to break and hoping it didn't.\n\nHe looked about to find the remote for his 75-inch Sony TV that hung upon his wall next to a Monet he had won at an art auction back when he first took his company public. Beach in Pourville. He had bought it, because he wanted to see the beautiful waters of Pourville-sur-Mer while he worked, so he could always remember his and Eveline's honeymoon. They had saved for a year to afford the trip, and he never wanted to forget the work ethic that brought him to his lavish life. He sneared at the painting and turned on the television.\n\nA woman with fastidious detail to eyebrows stood outside a street corner near his home. She pointed at an amalgam of automobile wreckage. The metal was twisted and entwined like two ballet dancers in mid grand pas de deux. He looked down at his stark-white keyboard before the view of the television started to sink in. A whisper of a heartbeat pounded in his thoughts. He blinked, unsure what he was feeling. The whisper grew, and his head pounded. He shook his head, and all went quiet again until he finally heard the words coming from the television: \"... seems to be Eveline Dyson - wife of mogul Arthur Dyson...\" There was a tightness in his throat. He labored a dry swallow before looking up to see his wife's face on the tv.\n\n\"Eveline...\" he said.\n\nHe looked back at the Beach in Pourville and then uttered a minor gasp.\n\nThe sleek, shimmering cherry wood of the Brookhaven desk vibrated Arthur's arm again. He jumped. He now frantically picked up his phone to see, \"I'll never forgive you for this.\" He stared at the notification until the screen went black. And then he stared at his own face. He saw every line of sadness and betrayal in the cracks and crevices of his skin. He saw every pore of shame and regret. And lastly, he saw his own tears. He watched them come together and linger at the bottom of his chin as one larger drop. His body's shaking caused the drop to fall to his lap, and he let out a sound he had never known he could make. It was part cry, part howl, and all despair. His phone slipped from his grasp, clanked on the floor, and the screen cracked.\n\nThe sleek, shimmering Brazilian walnut wood of the office floor vibrated Arthur's foot. He looked down at the phone, and another notification popped up: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\" He picked up the phone and said, \"I'm so sorry, Eveline. I'm so sorry!\" Before the screen could turn black, another notification popped up: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\" And another: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\"\n\nHe dropped the phone like a man who unexpectedly saw a spider. It clacked against the desk, and the crack spread a bit further, chipped pieces of glass falling off.\n\nAnother notification showed up: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\"\n\n\"Eveline, please,\" he begged through his sobs. \"Please!\"\n\nThe phone sat on his desk, vibrating over and over again. Each time, the notification showed the same thing: \"I'll never forgive you for this.\"\n\n\"EVELINE PLEASE!\"\n\nThe constant pulsing of the phone moved it across the desk toward Arthur, blinking new notifications. Screaming, he threw the phone across the room. It smashed into a bookshelf and landed on the floor. Through his pants and sobs, he waited. His heart was a banging drum, and his lungs were pistons. He waited.\n\nWhen no sound was heard, he slid from his chair and dropped to his knees. He bellowed and beat at his desk.\n\nThe sleek, shimmering Brazilian walnut wood of the office floor vibrated Arthur's knees.", "How-\n\nMy eyes flicked towards the screen. Dylan. The Dylan I was set to marry. The Dylan who I'd been fighting with over something inconsequential in the light of what I had just seen. I frantically unlocked the phone, checking to see whether this was some cruel prank. No. Local online news outlets were starting to pick up the story. I tapped a few buttons and checked the number. Definitely his.\n\nI take a deep breath. Two. Three. Something is terribly wrong. The air hums around me, as if poised to attack something. Tension. Stay calm. Act normal. I send a text to him. \"You know what? This is such a silly thing to argue about. How about we just work it out when you get home?\" Click. Send.\n\nOne minute. Two. Three. Phone lights up again. Dylan. \"Yeah. This is dumb. See you soon, babe!\" Sounds just like him. The news might be wrong. Mistaken identity? Dylan drives a car that's common round here. Maybe the reporters misread the license plate.\n\nI fill up the kettle with water. Put it on to the boil. No need to panic yet. Something is wrong. Sssssh. You're not helping, brain.\n\nKettle hisses. I pour the water into a mug. I wait, stir, pour milk, sit. I drink. I wait. I try not to think. Thinking leads to panic.\n\nThe front door opens. I turn, pale-faced with wide eyes, towards the figure.\n\nDylan.\n\n\"Hey babe! I - are you okay?\" He immediately picks up on the tension. The sound of the TV catches his eye. He turns towards it.\n\nHe drops his keys. \"What the fuck?\" He turns towards me, his expression now mirroring mine. I shake my head. \"I don't understand.\" He blinks, once, twice. \"Can you feel that?\" Yes. The hum in the air. It's as if something is nearby, unseen, trying to get our attention - to warn us?\n\nThe hum gets louder. The sound of police sirens can be heard in the distance. I get this weird feeling in my head. There's a sudden urge to get up and turn around, towards the source of the hum. Run. RUN. I glance towards Dylan. His jaw is hanging open. \"Something... Something bad is coming. Do you feel it?\"\n\nFifteen minutes later, a SWAT team barges through the open door. All they can find is a cooling, half-finished cup of tea on the kitchen table, a set of car keys on the floor, and a soft hum in the air, fading rapidly.\n\n\\~\\~\\~\\~\n\nEDIT: Part Two and Three below!\n\nEDIT 2: To keep better track of what I write, and also cause it's kind of fun, I've made a subreddit: [ToastyStories](https://www.reddit.com/r/ToastyStories/). Feel free to subscribe if it makes it easier to keep track of what I write! Or follow my profile, idk. Reddit used to be so simple..." ]	3

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

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