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I am a new modder to the game 'Skyrim' and I wanted to make my first mod an extension of the current Lusty Argonian Maid books found within the game. I am asking for everyone's help in writing some stories. [Here is some info on the stories.](http://elderscrolls.wikia.com/wiki/The_Lusty_Argonian_Maid) The prompt must be 10 lines, be written in the same fashion, and end in the line,"Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time." Any contributors whose submissions are used in the mod will be given credit.
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[FF] The Lusty Argonian Maid
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[
"\"The Adventurous Khajiit Traders\"\n\n* Act I, Scene II, Part I:\n\nKiisminahtii: Nord woman is liking what she sees, no?\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: What delectable wares! Oh, and this... I've heard it's sweet. Could I have a taste?\n\nKiisminahtii: This one does not give her wares for free. If you are wanting to taste, perhaps you can give Kiisminahtii something in exchange, hm?\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: I'm low on coin, but I do have these two sweet rolls.\n\nJi'zirr: Kin Kiisminahtii has already sweet rolls. What need has she for yours, hm? Ji'zirr proposes you try his wares instead.\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: Who are you to steal her customer! Besides, I am not interested in the wares of one such as you!\n\nJi'zirr: Ji'zirr is no thief! \n\nKiisminahtii: Khajiit do not see such things as stealing. Khajiit are more accustomed to sharing.\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: Are you telling me that I can try both of your wares? I wouldn't want to take up too much time.\n\nJi'zirr: Plenty of time, my sweet, plenty of time.\n\n\n* Act I, Scene II, Part II:\n\nKiisminahtii: It is true that Kiisminahtii has sweet rolls of her own, but not so large as yours. \n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: You should see my sister's! They are twice the size of mine!\n\nJi'zirr: Ah, they are so soft! And so large! They barely do not fit in this one's hands.\n\nKiisminahtii: This one can give them a nibble, hm?\n\nJi'zirr: Let us go into the tent, no? Ji'zirr is not comfortable eating in front others.\n\n(The three enter the tent.)\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: I have something to confess. I've never had anyone try my sweet rolls before, let alone two at the same time!\n\nJi'zirr: Ji'zirr can see you are very inexperienced, your human skin is as red as a snowberry.\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: Maybe it would be better if I look away? Oh! Just get it over with!\n\nKiisminahtii: Do not be ashamed, Little Snowberry. There is plenty of time, my sweet, plenty of time.\n\n\n* Act I, Scene II, Part III:\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: Oh, that's actually very nice. I like to watch you nibbling my sweet rolls. Do you like them?\n\nKiisminahtii: They are different from this one's own, but yes, they are delicious.\n\nJi'zirr: Do not think this one has forgotten his side of the exchange. Ji'zirr always keeps his pipe on him.\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: I've- I've never seen a Khajiit's skooma pipe before...\n\nJi'zirr: Not to worry, Snowberry, this one can teach you. Hold it here at the base, and then put your lips to it.\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: It won't hurt me?\n\nKiisminahtii: Only if it gets too hot. This one will help you. When you feel it get warm, suck it gently.\n\nJi'zirr: Do not waste any, Snowberry. Swallow all that comes out of my pipe, hm?\n\nKiisminahtii: Don't rush, Kiisminahtii's sweet, you might choke. Pretty Snowberry wants a good first time, no?\n\nBritte Ample-Bosom: Mm, yes, I get it. I'll try. After all, there's plenty of time, dear Traders, plenty of time in the world...\n",
"From the lost folios of the Lusty Argonian Maid\n\n\"Rise and Shine\"\n\nAct III, Scene I\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nMaster Colto, it is time to wake up. Oh! You've already risen\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nNo matter, my pet. Most mornings I find myself already up and ready before the necessary hour but unable to escape these covers. Would you care to help me? These old bones you see...\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nBut sir, you're far too large for me to handle.\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nNonsense dear. Just let me borrow your hand.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nShouldn't the mistress be here to help?\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nNo need, no need. She cares not how I struggle at the start of each day.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nThen I shall take care of you master. Hold me and I shall get you off the bed shortly.\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nThank you dear. Steady at it, there is no need to hurry.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nBut your appointments master. What of your obligations?\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nPlenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.\n",
"The Sultry Dremora\n\nAct 3, Scene IV, continued...\n\nLoinus Ignitus: Fool wizard! Such a war machine will never fit through!\n\nAbracadabracles: Nonsense! These Oblivion gates can open wider still.\n\nLoinus Ignitus: Much wider and Mehrunes himself will come through!\n\nAbracadabracles: Such fires, within! Such heat!\n\nLoinus Ignitus: No mortal can quench them.\n\nAbracadabracles: So it seems, I'd hate to singe my wand.\n\nLoinus Ignitus: Your invasion was foolhardy.\n\nAbracadabracles: FOOLHARDY? I'll show you foolhardy! There is more than ONE gate to Oblivion, you know.\n\nLoinus Ignitus: That gate is sealed, nothing shall breach it!\n\nAbracadabracles: Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.",
"\"The Second Entrance\"\n\nAct III, Scene II continued\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nEvening Master Colto, back so soon from your walk?\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nYes my dear, and I see you have finished trimming the hedges at the front entrance.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nIndeed I have, would you like to examine my work?\n\nCrantius Colto\n\nNo need lovely, I will take the rear entrance so as not to disturb the mistress. \n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nPardon me sire, are the bushes not satisfactory? The front gate is just as quiet as the back door. \n\nCrantius Colto\n\nBut it is quite wide. Perhaps you could resize it, until then I shall take the rear. \n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nAgain your pardon Lord Colto. I am but a simple Argonian maid, rebuilding the front gate is beyond my abilities. \n\nCrantius Colto\n\nDon't fret my blossom. I prefer the back door, but you must be capable of shrinking the front with enough effort. \n\nLifts-Her-Tail\n\nThrice your pardon Master, but even with all my efforts it may take months! \n\nCrantius Colto\n\nPlenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time. \n\n",
"Act I, Scene VII, continued\n\nLifts-Her-Tail: I don't think I can do it, master.\n\nCrantius Colto: Surely you jest, little one. I am sure that you can handle it quite well.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail: I've never milked a cow before. Perhaps one of your other maidens would be better suited for this task?\n\nCrantius Colto: Don't be silly, my sweet. Just wrap your slender hand around it, like so.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail: Oh! It's thick!\n\nCrantius Colto: It is rather quite congested, my pet.\n\nLifts-Her-Tail: Master! Something's coming out of it!\n\nCrantius Colto: Ahh, isn't that wonderful? Make sure you get every last drop!\n\nLifts-Her-Tail: But it's so full! It could take me hours!\n\nCrantius Colto: Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time.",
"\"The Seductive Argonian Chef\"\n\nAct 2, Scene V, continued...\n\nTalented-Tongue: But, Sir, this scent is foul!\n\nLord Caius: Don't fret, my sweet. This ingredient will fit in perfectly.\n\nTalented-Tongue: Are you certain? I would hate to ruin what is already accomplished.\n\nLord Caius: Mmm, yes. Appetizing without, but I'm certain it will go much better with this ingredient within.\n\nTalented-Tongue: But, My Lord, what of The Lady? You know she hates your meddling in the kitchen.\n\nLord Caius: This isn't the first time I've snuck it into a dish without The Lady's knowledge.\n\nTalented-Tongue: Sir! Is it really so appetizing?\n\nLord Caius: Oh, certainly. I promise you, it is as addictive as moonsugar.\n\nTalented-Tongue: Will I be able to redo its presentation before supper time?\n\nLord Caius: Plenty of time, my sweet. Plenty of time."
] | 6
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[Why is he there? how'd he get up there? Anything that explains the painting](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1c/Caspar_David_Friedrich_032_\(The_wanderer_above_the_sea_of_fog\).jpg)
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[WP] What's up with this man?
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[
"No, today I will actually do it. I have been putting it off for far too long now.\n\nToday I am going to grab my finest suit and cane, because a regular walking stick will look absurd whilst I'm wearing a suit- and I'll finally climb that mountain to see what the fuzz is all about. Honestly, you would think that mountain top gives free gold by the way other people have been describing it. Bugger that.\n\nShould I bring a hat? No, the wind will probably just blow it off and I'll have to hold it in my hand.\n\nAnd I suppose I'll have to wear my dress shoes since I am already wearing a suit and using a cane. That's going to be problematic for such a long hike... I suppose there is no other choice.\n\nThe only proper way to climb a mountain is in a suit is what my pappy told me, and that's what his pappy told him, and I'll be dammed if I'm the poor sod that breaks tradition.\n\n...\n\nI went up there and now I'm back down in my cabin. It was wet, the sun wasn't even out and the clouds met with the mountain so you couldn't even see anything! What a poor, dreadful, just overall miserable experience. I think I've been had by an elaborate ruse. See, this is why I didn't want to leave my cabin. You shouldn't have left your cabin. You should have stayed and continued writing in your journal, but you had to go out and be social. Serves you right.\n\n11-22-1822",
"The fading light swirled around him as the cold trickled into his bones. When he was ascending he had stayed warm, the exertion and adrenaline propelling him forward and keeping the chill from his body. But now, now he was on top. He had escaped the pain.\n\nThe pain of his daughter's death. Here he was free from the trouble that surrounded him and his wife. Annabelle had been dead a year, but his wife still cried nightly. Now was the time; now was the time to take it all away.\n\nWith an astounding effort, Ethan threw himself from the peak. The first few jolts of his body brought pain, but slowly all sensation left his body. The numbing cold of the wind whipping past his face faded. It took a surprisingly short amount of time to reach the bottom. Ethan lay there, a crumpled mess of broken bone and sinew. At least he was free...",
"I wake up. Midnight. Was it a dream? I saw a vision, almost like a painting. A fleeting sight, there for the slightest fraction of a second, and gone. I must have it back.\n\nBut what did I see?\n\nI stare out of the window of my skyscraper office. Skyscraper. I can touch the sky from here, reach out and almost take her hand. I'm flooded with a sense of calm. I take the elevator to the observation deck. I'm closer. I can see the whole city from here, the lights that will never turn off, the darkness where the people are asleep, the lake from which the sky drinks.\n\nI must go higher.\n\nI take the elevator down to my office. I hear a low rumble of thunder in the distance, but I pay it no mind. I walk to the window, look up and smile. I get back on my computer and search for flights. But the rumble of thunder is much louder. I sense danger. I close the browser. I sense relief. I must not fly.\n\nBut I must go higher.\n\nI tell my boss I'm taking my vacation days in a couple of weeks. I wait. Each day, I sit on the observation deck. I breathe. I meditate. I exist.\n\nBut I must go higher.\n\nI drive. Along the ground, across the plain, to the mountain. A small mountain, but the tallest one I can reach in a day. I climb. The air grows colder. Ice covers the ground. But I can feel her cold breath on me. I reach the mountain. It's a clear day and I can see for miles around. I reach up. But she still can't reach me.\n\nI must go higher.\n\nI must find a higher mountain. I drive to the tallest mountain in this land. I have a guide. We climb together. Her breath is cold, and it quickens as I climb. The air is foggier, the path is steeper, the cold is colder. But I must not stop. I see the peak. I rush ahead of my guide. The ice hasn't climbed with me. I've reached the top.\n\nI see the land around me. Shrouded in a blanket of fog, yes, but I can see everything. I see the fertile valley below, and the desert in the shadow of the mountain. I see the pastures of the plains, where they look down and take care of their plants. I see the city, where they look down and take care of their plans. I see the beach, and the tundra, and the borders, and the rivers, and the forests. I see everything.\n\nI reach up. I feel her fingertips. But I cannot quite grasp her hand. I turn to my guide. He says\n\nWe must go higher.",
"Jeff hadn't been overally concerned when the ground started to rise beneath his feet, all things considered. Maybe a mild twinge of anxiety, but certainly not surprise. He was past that.\n\nThe rocks crunched and crumbles on their way up with Jeff riding them all the way upwards. The whispering mists stung his face as he breached the cloud layer. Eventually all he could see were the privelaged peaks that also made it to this height.\n\nThe air, though thin, still had enough breath in it to scream as it wound itself around him. Somehow the shortness of breath wasn't bothering him anymore. There was something else missing he couldn't quite remember. That was when he saw through a break in the clouds, a small figure curled into a shallow cave in the rocky wall. It was shivering slightly.\n\nHe remembered the cold with sudden clarity. The bone-deep harrowing cold was missing up here.\n\nHe took a renewed look at the mountain barren rocks around him, feeling not its cruelty but its compassion. The moutain had been letting him climb it, before it claimed him. He took a last look at the now still figure below. He wouldn't be needing that any more."
] | 4
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It can be any kind of creature. From an alien to a beetle. You get the idea, now get writing! Can't wait to read your responses :)
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[WP] - You are a teenager and there is a creature in your house which either kills you or leads to your death
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[
"When I first saw the strange, ape-like creature living in our basement, the shrills at the back of my head decided not to venture downwards. Thus I merely nodded to the beast, acknowledging its existence, making it a secret of ours. The pact with the ape quickly extended to me bringing the food and cleaning the feces that have, under the kitchen light upstairs, turned out to be of a nasty reddish colour but human in texture. In return, the creature told me stories filled with unexpected humour, always ending with a promise of an even better tale. Once, the promise failed to occur, making me believe it was the creature's way of saying good-bye. It was a poor judgment, for the following eve, when I went downstairs to our basement, expecting to find a reddish carcass already in decay, the ape jumped at me from shadows. The pain caused by the claws jabbed in my flesh gave way for a much greater sense of surprise at the strength of the beast that have always seemed to me decisively sub-human. After a brief fight, the ape, sitting on top of me, said with a solemn, mocking tone:\n\n\"Now we change. Now I come to visit and bring you food, and now you one who tell the stories.\" \n\nThe darkness gave me peace to polish my craft. "
] | 1
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A public, searchable site... the owner can't be traced and the web address appears on many news sites. Every picture, even ones thought deleted.
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[FF] 60-150 words: A website appears containing every digital photo ever taken
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[
"I leaned closer to the computer screen, peering more closely at the thumbnail on the search results page. Familiar, just like I had thought. \n\nStrange, since I didn’t remember uploading that photo anywhere. \n\nI clicked. Could just be incredibly similar. My eyes widened, as the page loaded and I looked at the webpage, filled with dozens—hundreds—of photos, going on way past the fold.\n\nMy eyes flicked to the titlebar of the website.\n\n i will show you everything\n",
"No one knew where it came from, but everyone knew about it within hours of going online. Someone dropped a link to it on a message board, but they were anonymous, and no one knows who posted it. \n\nAs people clicked in, they saw a simple interface of photos, and a search bar. While it was interesting at first, everyone started finding their own photos posted, even ones that they had deleted long before. People panicked, and tried to remove them from the site with no luck. Public outcry demanded that the site be taken down. Millions started wearing masks outside, and some even attacked individuals who took photos without permission. It didn’t take long for the government to block the website after that, but most still wondered where it came from. On the news, stories of the NSA leaks circulated with great attention, but nobody made the connection.\n",
"It had been 4 weeks since outintheopen.com had gone live. Since then, there had been over 200,000 murders and just under a million suicides. But this wasn’t what worried Mr. Andrews. \n\nMr. Andrews, CEO of The Organisation, was visibly upset that this occurred 2 months before his retirement. Andrews had been the CEO for the last 25 years and had worked hard to maintain the influence of The Organisation that his predecessors had built over the last 2,000 years. \n\nAs soon as the site went live, Andrews had ensured that the NSA had been disbanded and the key players eliminated. A fitting punishment for being careless with data collected from the PRISM program.\n\nAndrews knew what needed to be done. Control on a smaller population is better than no control at all. He signed the orders to begin the fourth and largest purge in the history of The Organisation.",
"“Officer on deck!”\n\n“As you were. What’s the situation?”\n\n“Five minutes ago, sir, we were notified of a breach in security. A public website, unknown registrant, containing an unknown amount – possibly thousands- of classified photos-“\n\n“Photos from what?”\n\n“Photos from… everything. The Genesis project, White House security cameras, the-“\n\n“So why haven’t we shut it down yet?”\n\n“Sir, I should clarify… there’s classified photos from everything. Not just from us. China, Iran-“\n\n“So grab their intel and then shut it down before they can grab ours.”\n\n“Well, that’s the thing, sir… There’s photos from everything, unsorted. We’ve got Archimedes II working full time on just trying to index everything. It looks almost like it’s an archive of every digital photo ever taken…”\n\n“So… China’s attack plans and Iran’s nuclear program details might be somewhere in there, but they’re buried underneath-“\n\n“Over seven petabytes just of teenage girls taking selfies, yes.”\n",
"Here's what I do, I wake up, take a shit, then go down to my computer to check Craigslist.\n\nA couple of days ago, though, I go to open Chrome and it gives me this bizarre error message: \"The internet is broken, some asshole made this insane webpage that contained every picture ever, oh well, I guess the internet was cool while it lasted. Here's what we don't understand, though: Most pictures are total dogshit, just duck face snapshots and dickpics.\""
] | 5
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As days pass, you realize two things: 1) not everything is always as you remembered it and 2) this is your reality now and it's not going to change. You begin to plan.
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[WP] You awaken in the body of one year old you.
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[
"Not again.\n\nSomething must have been really fucked up.\n\nThis shit was fun the first times. I remember the first time I awoke here, in this very same moment. Same cradle, same walls, same body, same age. I was freaking out and started to cry as it was the only thing my body knew to do. I had the same memories but there was not a bond between the body and my knowledge yet, so I had to re-learn everything from scratch. \n\nFirst time I did it fast, after realizing the opportunity that had been given to me: live my life again after dying at 68 from a heart attack.\nLearning fast and using the knowledge of the future called too much of attention to myself. I was famous by my 20's, filthy rich at 23. After that age, I had changed the world economy so I had changed what I knew from my previous life. \n\nI died at 33 at a car accident in Monaco. I remember hitting the wall and the pain as the car cached fire. And then I woke up in this cradle again. \n\nFirst times were a blessing. Now I realize it is Hell, after living every life I had thought, being any kind of person, I realize I am prisoner of this loop, and there is nothing I can do to escape it. I am alone, forced to lose my beloved ones again and again. Forced to being unable to fall in love again, knowing all the children I had with all my loved spouses will never survive my own death. There's nothing new to do at any life I could live. \n\nWhat sin did I commit in my first life to have this curse fallen into me.\nI have become Sisyphus, forced to push the rock of my life to the top of the mountain everyday, only to see the rock come down to the base just as I reach the top.",
"*Okay I have a very important, probably the most important, choice of my life to make right now.* I thought to myself after waking up in a crib with a much younger Mom smiling down at me. *Do I become a child prodigy, or keep a low profile and make some important changes?*\n\nThe first option has its fair share of problems. While I am by far the smartest infant ever, I probably can't mimic a natural progression of skill, and even if I could I would level off around the skill level expected as a young adult, rather than the genius I would be presenting myself as. I would also lose the advantage of my future knowledge, because who knows what sort of butterfly effects a random genius could have on the future. I need to wait at least for my little sister to be born again before I change a thing.\n\nOn the other hand, I can pretend to be normal, do the minimum amount of work in school and breeze through until I make a big change. It shouldn't be hard to get straight A's in school and get a few scholarships, just to set myself up for success, and a few anonymous tips could make some really big changes. Just a quick call to the NYPD on September 11, 2001 about a bomb threat in the WTC would save countless lives. The problems with this path are mostly a matter of boredom. I'm not sure if I can socialize with children my physical age, and adults my mental age won't give me the time of day. At least as a prodigy I can have meaningful conversations.\n\nI guess that either way, I have some time to kill. Not going to be able to do much more than poop and sleep for the next year or so. Speaking of which, it seems that I will need to relearn my motor skills and bowel control. At least mommy is already here and noticed the smell. I think I can get used to this.",
"What. The. Fuck.\n\nWhere am I? What’s going on? And what is that god damned noise?\n\nOh Christ it’s me, wailing away. Ok. Calm down. \n\nAright, wooden bars, blue cotton blanket, typical suburban house beyond the bars.\n\nWait a second, that’s the old wall paper from my parents’ first house. I remember getting yelled at for scribbling on it in crayon. \n \nAnd next to me, no, it can’t be… Fuzzy? And he still has both his eyes? He seems brand new. \n\nSomething must have gone wrong in the lab. I’d know that bear anywhere; at least I know who I am.. Next: to find out where. Easy enough, my parents house, their first house. Same ugly wallpaper, the oak out the window seems smaller, but I’ll be damned if that’s not the same tree. Now for the hard part: when. The crib and Fuzzy narrow it down to 0-2.5 years old, that’ll make it anywhere from January ’82 to June ’84. Close enough, I’ll sort it out later. And lastly the near impossible part: How do I get back?\n\nSomeone’s coming. Better be still… \n\nMom?\n\n\n\n(oh god the wailing again)\n\n“It’s okay sweety. Momma’s got you. We have to go run some errands, alright?”\n\n\nIt’s been so long since I’ve heard her voice. So melodious and kind, how could anything cry with that voice calming them? She’s parceling me up for the journey. Coat and hat, must be fall. Then it hits me, Mom’s here. This must be before the accident. That’ll still be a couple of years from now. I could remain confined to this infant body, wait it out, and by the time of the accident, I should be able to communicate enough to stop it. This is not where I planned to end up today, but no reason to not make the most of it. I’ll figure out the return journey after. That’s not what’s important now.\n \nShe bundles me up, gingerly, delicately, against what must be a nasty cold day outside. I was robbed of so many more years of this, of growing up under her kind guidance and protection.\n \nI didn’t get into this business to try to right my own past. So many do, and it destroys them. No, I’m in it for the science, and if I’m honest with myself, the adventure. But face to face with the opportunity to save her, to change my life, who could make any other decision?\n\nShe’s carrying me to the car, the beat up old station wagon, the same car that a lousy drunkard would plow through in broad daylight a few years from now. With such care she buckles me into the car-seat, checking and re-checking the belts, and then it all goes black.\n\n.\n\n.\n\n.\n\n\nI wake up, immediately vomit, and struggle to sit up. Impossibly bright fluorescent assaults my pounding head.\n\nNoises start to filter in…\n\n“Sir? Sir? Professor? Oh thank god! He’s awake!”\n\n“Here, drink this. It’ll make it better. We had to yank you out of there in a hurry”\n\n“We were off target so far it was a wonder we were able to track you down so quickly. The administration would’ve been pissed if we fucked this one up. They’re skeptical enough as it is.”\n\nI put it together, slowly (the Transition always damn near scrambles your brain). I’m back in the lab, surrounded by a bunch of sycophantic grad students. They think they rescued me. The bastards all look so proud of themselves.\n\nI hurl the worst insults I can think of at all of them. They brush it off as a known side effect. \n\nThey don’t know where I was. They never even met her. They can’t understand.\n\nI curl up into a ball, rocking back and forth pathetically. I sob and wail as I haven’t in some 30 years.\n \nI sit there and cry, as if Mom has just died again.\n",
"Do I want to change anything? Now that I know I can change minor details, I have to choose specifically what to change. After I change something major, everything after might change as well. \nRobby! His death was an accident, easily avoidable, but that happens before I meet my future wife.\nI can avoid the housing crash, but if I do that, I might not meet her, and that is before he dies too. \nShould I just try something completely different? \nNo, I don't want to give up my friends, I want to save one. After that, I can deal with the consequences. I won't change anything until then. Relive the same heartaches, make the same mistakes. Save my friend."
] | 4
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[WP] Your neighborhood, all the way up to your front door, is enveloped into a bottomless sinkhole in the night.
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[
"I regard the hole with some minor satisfaction. I never liked my neighbors. Of course, I felt somewhat guilty about this happiness, but even so, Frank had slept with my wife last year. Casper, my golden retriever, circle around my legs for just a moment before sprinting away. I for an ending to the hole. It was at least five miles wide. I checked my backyard, only to see it begin again in my backyard. \n\nAt least my internet is still up.\n\nI WILL COME BACK TO THIS BUT FOR NOW I HAVE TO GO"
] | 1
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(optional) the only countries where you can land safely, are landlocked countries.
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[WP] Write an apocalypse scenario. Your characters are on the ISS
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[
"There’s something oddly mesmerizing about watching several dozen nuclear missiles streak towards their targets from space. From this distant vantage point, they seem to be sliding so gracefully across the earth, when in reality they are blasting through the thermosphere at five miles a second. You become entranced by the arced trails of white smoke they leave behind, a smooth parabola that shows the casual, faraway observer the precise path each one took to incinerate the lives of thousands. At the same time, though, they seem so tiny and so harmless, absurdly incapable of bringing about the demise of civilization. \n\n\nBut then again, perhaps because we left them all undetonated - harmless, we came to underestimate their apocalyptic capacities, and built so many. Even worse, rather than destroy Pandora’s box, we handed it over to a machine thought to be capable of handling it - Skynet. The mistake was all too human, as was the machine’s decision to turn on those who threatened its existence. All too human. \n\n\n\nAs I stared out one of the ISS’s portholes, the first missiles detonated in tiny bursts over their targets. More followed. Everything seemed so distant. I was reminded of a flight map of the United States I saw at an airport once showing a live feed of all the planes flying over the country at once, their icons disappearing once they reached their destinations. \n\n\n\nWhere are we ultimately destined?",
"It was beautiful. I tried not to think of the death. I tried not to think of the hell everyone was living down there. All i saw was the mesmerizing beauty of that immense blue planet, drifting in the incomparable, humbling blackness. Flashes of red, orange, fading to black mist appearing in most places i could see. First the unmistakable shape that was America. Then Russia. Then Britain. I could barely register what was happening before i realized just how many metal canisters were speeding around the globe. They were everywhere, crossing paths, slamming into each other like some pedestrian walkway. The once-glorious land masses soon became grey wastelands. One particularly ambitious missile came close enough to the hulking ISS to see the detail on it. The words \"sorry\" were engraved next to a flag i couldn't recognize. James would have been scared of it coming so close to our station. He was always so easily scared. I looked over to his body, face frozen in a silent scream. He had died along with the others a few hours ago, whilst i was out on my final spacewalk.\n\n To think I am one of the last human beings to ever grace the planet is terrifying. I'm not even on the planet. I accepted my fate long ago. There is no way i can land any shuttle without help. There would be nowhere to land anyway. It's OK. I'm at peace. For the first time in a long time, i think i am happy. Goodbye earth. Goodbye Auntie Rita, my mum, my two brothers, Granddad Brian. Goodbye whoever may one day read this, if civilization somehow rebuilds. I hear a beeping in my suit and see a flash of light. My oxygen is running low.\n\nI am thinking of the death now. Of all the pain everyone must have gone through on that now barren rock. Of the children, the billions of children who must have died screaming. Of the families who clung together and told each other it would be alright, whilst knowing it won't. Of the countless innocents who didn't have any warning. Of the couples getting married just as the first missiles make contact. Of the babies being born whilst hell is unleashed. They will never experience life before they die. \n\nCasting my eye to the great darkness of our galaxy, i realize we will never explore deep space. We will never know if we were alone that whole time. We will never have the answers to our most important questions. Another beeping; my oxygen has ran out. I am running on fumes now. I could go back in and get some more. There is no point. The earth is fully changed now. There is no green. Only red and grey. And we have no one to blame but ourselves. Maybe some animals survived. Maybe a cockroach or a rat. I hope so. I hope there is a God. I hope this isn't the end.\n \nThis is mission specialist Adam Matthews, signing off. ",
"***\"Shit\"***\n\nThose were the first words out of my mouth as I stared into the cold of space, at the pale blue dot below me. I could see the plumes of smoke as the world went through a nuclear exchange, most likely caused by the growing tension over fossil fuel control. The damn Chinese were making a land grab at Alaska, trying to salvage what was left of the worlds oil supply. We had lost contact with Houston about a week ago, and since had been sitting tight, waiting for pickup.\n\nI blinked slowly, and began floating away from the window. I could hear my fellow scientists beginning to take in what just occurred. Some moaned. Some cried. Some just sat in silence, such as myself. Obviously, we needed to wait around until it was safe to return to the surface via escape pod. The catch? We had no way of telling when it was safe. Me and a couple other scientists who had not suffered a complete mental breakdown began collecting our supplies into a stockpile to be used in the return trip. In the next week, we mapped out where to land, and when.\n\nIn the end, we decided that Las Vegas was the answer.\n\n\nWhy? Because one of us knew Mister House.\n\n\nAnd Mister House had a plan.\n\n\n\n\n***^Im ^sorry ^for ^the ^Fallout ^New ^Vegas ^twist. ^First ^time. ^Criticism ^welcome!***\n\n\nEDIT: Detail!"
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[WP] A Magikarp evolves into a Gyarados
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"Useless\n\nIt was not until I was pulled into the strange lights of the Pokeball that I learned this word. No longer did i need to fear the teams of Dewgong that would hunt me, no long arms of Tentacruel, no biting Lapras. I was safe \n\nAnd Useless\n\nThe land burned my gills. Dry air. It hurt me. He sent me to fight and I...I wanted to make him proud. \n\nUseless. My flippers were not weapons, my teeth were small. All I could do was splash in the air and endure. \n\nAnd I endured. Biting, scratching, ice and lightning. For months I would return to my ball, bleeding and hazy, my trainer nursing me to health to try the next day. \n\nUntil one day. A fight with a Meowth, who took particular delight in scratching his helpless victim. Scratch. Slash. He laughed as he did it. Scratch. Slash. \n\nAnger. So much anger.\n\nAnd then I reared up, and with all my waning strength I bit him in the throat. The creature screeched and threw me away and all faded to blackness. \n\nWhen I woke up, my trainer was smiling. He was proud. \n\nMy anger now builds in depths of my belly and comes out as dragons fire. I have grown stronger, and larger, and sail the seas from which I spawned. Yet I am a Magikarp no longer.\n\nI am Gyarados. The Wrathful Ocean King. I control the very waters themselves, and plow his enemies with terrible fires, and fill the hearts of all the Earths creatures with fear. My wrath gives strength to him, just as he have strength to me, and together we can bring terror to the very gods themselves. \n\nI am not useless...anymore\n\n ",
"It took so long. I don't know how many hours we spent battling. The struggle was so tormenting.. My trainer must have spent a fortune on potions; much more than the measly five-hundred pokedollars that he had spent on me. I didn't know why he, or anyone for that matter, would actually want to buy one of my kind. Half of us can't even swim. I could never figure out why he could put up with so much disappointment. Our losses far outweighed our victories. I never knew why, until now. \n\nI felt the rage first. Flailing about in fury, the terrible anger exploding like the many geodudes that blocked our way. Angry that my trainer had worked so hard for me only to get defeated and laughed at. I was mad that people couldn't see the stubborn dedication that my trainer had. I can feel my rage turning into a draconic power. I flopped out of my pokeball. The moment the air touched my squishy body I feel myself changing. This is it, I would become a mighty Gyarados. Now I know why my trainer put up with me. I know the reason he would spend all his time and money on such a lowly splash of life. \n\n\"Magikarp? What in the world happened buddy?\"\n\nHe didn't know? Could it be possible that he did not understand that magikarp (the ones that don't get eaten) evolve into one of the most powerful pokemon? Was this amazing power not his ultimate goal? I thought he wanted us to crush the people who laughed at us. To stand victorious in glorious retribution. I'm confused. Why then would he try so hard at making me stronger if he didn't wan't the mighty dragon levitating above him?\n\n\"Well Fishy, I've always stood by your side. We've been through a lot together. I loved you since the moment I saved you from that crooked merchant. You are my friend, and I'll be glad to stick with you even though you've changed into something so different.\"\n\nI think I understand now. \n\n\"Wanna go beat up that rattata that bit your eyeball?\"\n\nI put my head down and scooped him onto my back. \n\n\"What's with that kid anyway, always talking about his shorts?\"\n\nI can't wait to show my trainer How much I, we have grown.",
"I was weak. The team looked down on me. My trainer barely sent me out to battle and I was forced to watch as the others began getting stronger and stronger, evolving into fantastical creatures while I was stuck as a mere flopping fool. I was looked upon as a joke. No matter how bad you were at least you weren't a Magikarp. \n\" Why aren't you boxed yet you splashing dumbass?\"\n\" Next time try to actually do something in battle...\"\nTheir taunts fueled me. Anger began bottling up. Resent towards my team whose neglect became my rise. I began to morph into an unforgiving leviathan. My blank stare turned to eyes fulled with hate and rage, my body becoming long and serpentine. I could control the sea to wreak havoc upon my enemies. My team now look at me with fear. I am strong.\n "
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Who is he going to pick to take his place, will he install a democracy? Does he weep for mankind after his death? Is he the only man capable of keeping the knot of man knit?
Go.
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[WP] A future dictator close to death watches over a united humanity, how does he plan on keeping his people united after he dies?
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"They stand before him, hundreds of thousands, tightly packed into the massive Citizen's Square. Red banners hang among the humongous telescreens that display his face to the adoring crowd. Cheering, screaming, yelling, they love him, as a father, as a leader, as their Emperor. \n\nHe looks at the holotext to his right that displays his speech, a well-written one by his top writer, but shallow, lacking the depth he wishes to convey at this moment. The advisors will be mad at him for this, but who cares, no one calls them Emperor. \n\n\"My people, my friends, my citizens, I welcome you to the beginning of the celebration of the 85th anniversary of the Great Awakening.\"\n\nMore cheers. The deafening sound of excitement that rattles his bones in a way nothing else can.\n\n\"In this wonderful moment, we remember the struggles we went through as a people, years of war, famine, death, mutual destruction. We remember how far that we have risen, that once we were divided, that once our ancestors believed in separations based on skin color, geographic origin or even personal beliefs. We remember the Great Collapse, the moments when we thought that our species was doomed, that we were destined for extinction.\"\n\nHe pauses, surveying the audience. Magnitudes of eyes stare up at him, enveloped in his words, they hang on his every word. \n\n\"But we rose up! We would not allow such pettiness to restrict the greatest creation this universe was capable of in 14.2 billion years. United as one, holding hands and walking together during the Great Awakening, we crafted the society we had always wanted and needed. Under the banner of progress, we built our gleaming cities out of the rubble of the past. Equality was our solemn oath, an agreement that one was not better than another.\"\n\nMore cheers. He was working them to a fever pitch, leading them to the crescendo in his masterpiece.\n\n\"We cured the sick, we eradicated world hunger, we colonized the moon. We realized there was no stopping our people when we were removed our man-made boundaries. And look at us now, look how far we have continued to rise. Crime is a distant dream, poverty is an extinct term, war is seen only in the history links. We have evolved, changed form, the people we are now are vastly different from those who came before. We are united in a way never thought imaginable.\"\n\nApplause, chanting, screaming, they loved him. He was going to miss this.\n\n\"My friends, it is now time for another evolution. Another change to take place. I have enjoyed nothing more than the time we have shared together over these past 85 years. But, it is only fair for the next generation to lead the Empire they have matured into. Along with several other regional changes, today I announce that I am stepping down in favor of my son, the boy you have all watched grow into a man. He has spent many years working in all the regions around the Empire, learning, leading and building a vision for the next period of our people. Please join me, in welcoming your new Emperor.\"\n\nWith this he stepped back and outstretched his hand towards the entrance behind him. His son walked out, smiling and waving, the cheers of the crowd echoing through-out the square. He knew the people loved the boy, almost as much as they loved him, and this made him happy. He had prepared many years, worked his best to build the support for his son that he knew would be needed for this day. For if the Empire were to survive, if his entire life's work to continue to succeed, his son would have to take over as the glue that held it all together. ",
"\"Excited about your retirement, sir?\"\n\nPresident Kwang didn't respond, he merely continued scanning the document in front of him. After referencing a previous page and double checking the wordings in several articles, he signed the final page.\n\nKwang smiled, \"The next bill I sign will be at a restaurant.\" Wolf chuckled, and let the room be silent for several seconds, until the president began again. \"The Coalition Advisory Council chose me to be president when I was 12 years old, Henrich. Do you know why?\"\n\n\"Of course, sir. The thought was that a child would be impartial, would not have the biases and the corruption of adults that had been in politics their entire life. That impartial innocence was needed to lead the world after the war.\"\n\nThe president snorted and smirked. \"The reason the war ended wasn't because the Coalition won, it was because after 20 years of death, everyone had grown sick of it. My father was the head General of the Pacific Coalition Army. He had led the forces that helped the North American Union beat back the Brazilians, and then led the charge when we joined the Germans and Iranians to subdue the African Alliance. He was too old, so I was the ideal figurehead to hold together the truce. Also, they thought since I was a child that I could be manipulated. You see the Council, which was made up of members from each of the world's great powers, wanted to rule the world themselves.\n\nThe years after the truce were difficult times, this was because the only accomplishment of uniting the world under the council, had been to take the war from the battlefield to a meeting room. All the hate, all the prejudice, all the selfishness and greed, it was all still there. The war was still going on.\n\nMy great accomplishment was to see the solution to this problem. I had a unique perspective being the puppet they liked to dance around in front of the public. I saw all the games they played, the betrayals, the lies, they were continuing the war among themselves. My solution was to execute every single one of them.\"\n\n\"...sir, I...\"\n\n\"Didn't know that? Not many people do. I had to replace my palace guard with Korean loyalists to do it, but the Council respected me so little they didn't see my plan until they were on their knees with a gun to the back of their head.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Do you know I kept order after that?\"\n\n\"No sir.\"\n\n\"Neither do I. I was 13, and I had no understanding of even basic politics. I created a new Advisory Council, but one that essentially had no power and could only give me suggestions. I take their suggestions and make a decision based off of my best judgement. That is how I have ruled for 83 years.\"\n\n\"Then how did the alliance hold?\"\n\n\"Because people were sick of death. They weren't happy with my decisions, they wanted to rise and rebel, but the memory of The Long War was so fresh in their mind. The thought of it beginning again, nobody could stomach it. This is the only reason why my reign has been successful, is people had lost the resolve to rebel.\"\n\nThe young bodyguard was searching for words. The President started again before he could find any. \"You have a long life ahead of you Henrich, and let me warn you. The hate is returning.\"\n\n\"Sir, the Coalition is as strong as ever.\"\n\n\"It may seem that way to you, but the writing is on the wall. Your generation never knew The Long War. You never felt the helplessness and dread. You read about it in schools, but you do not understand it, and I assure you. That it was the only thing holding the Coalition together.\"\n\nWolfe stood in silence, before asking, \"What will happen if the Coalition disbands?\"\n\nThe President smirked again. \"You asked me if i'm excited about retiring, Henrich. I'm retiring because, if my doctor can be believed, I'll be dead in three to five years. So the answer is yes, I am excited. Because I wont be alive to find out the answer to that very question.\"",
"\nThe Prime Minister hurried out of the elevator and quickly arrived at the identification terminal. It had been over 30 years since the last major conflict, but with each blood spattered cough, the Emperor who had made it all possible moved a step closer to his death. All hope for saving the benevolent dictator was lost. Now, it was only a matter of extending his rule long enough to name a successor. The world had undergone tremendous technological change during his rule, and finding an appropriate successor for this new world would prove to be a formidable challenge. Prior to Emperor Marrow, there were few that could have realized the benefits a benevolent dictator could bring to humanity. With power taken from squabbling political parties and self-aggrandizing politicians, humanity had been able to finally address many of the great ills that had plagued it since the birth of civilization. However, the time for change was at hand, and the Emperor must quickly name a successor to guide the world into its next great era. \n\nAs the Prime Minister entered the room, he saw the ailing Emperor surrounded by a group of Senators and his personal physicians. While Marrow had spent the previous 40 years ruling the Earth without question, he maintained the semblances of republicanism. In fact, outside of those at the highest level of government, no one would dare refer to him as Emperor. Without this illusion, his rule would have been far more difficult, and it would have required constant military actions across the globe. By giving the people of Earth a sense of participation, maintaining peace was a far simpler and cheaper task. Yet, there were a group of Senators that hard earned his favor and respect during his many years of rule. These were the men and women that would be responsible for guiding humanity into its next era.\n\n“Technology is advancing at an exponential rate.” Marrow said before coughing and spitting into a bloody handkerchief. “My advisors believe that the Singularity is on the verge of occurring, and despite the efforts of the good doctors, I will not be alive to witness it.” Upon hearing this, the Prime Minister’s breath stopped. In previous discussions, Marrow had made it clear that the Singularity would make true democratic reforms possible. “I have done a great number of wrongs during my rule. The power of a crown is more than any mortal man should have, and the Singularity will finally make this role obsolete. We must start preparing humanity for true democratic rule.” Marrow motioned for the Prime Minister to activate the holographic projector. “This is a highly complex task, and it will require the services of each of you to ensure it is a success. If you fail, then the benefits of the Singularity will fall into the hands of a corruptible few, and humanity’s progress will be forever stunted.” The lights in the room darkened, and a projection materialized before the group of senators.",
"He sits there on his throne, part of an experiment to test the notion that a benevolent dictator is the most efficient form of government. But he knows it can't last. He's been doing this for the thick end of 50 years, since just after we colonised the moon. He and his 'council' (puppets really, installed to give the people more feeling of power) live there, keeping watch, deciding what happens to whom.\n\nMy god he's good. He crushed the Norwegian uprising with but the flick of a finger. Humanity trembles at his feet, but not for long. He's worried. Worried about what happens when the experiment ends. When people are left to fend for themselves, to install their own governances. He's worried about those governances. What happens when the lobbying starts? Some rich oligarch commanding that the worlds wealth be diverted into some ill-fated exploration? He knows he has to choose. \n\nThey have centres, you know. Centres, where people are practically bred to rule. They are trained to see lives as little more than resources, they are cold, unfeeling. He was different. He had lived among us, seen the world through our eyes, and he knew they couldn't work out. Somewhere up there, sitting on his throne, wheezing his last guttural breaths, he worries."
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[WP] A child discovers they can create whiskey simply by whisking apple juice. What happens?
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"\"We find the defendant guilty as charged in Count I of the indictment, endangering the welfare of a child.\"\n\n\"No! It wasn't me!\" the father shouted as the bailiff led him away, \"He made the whiskey himself! I packed apple juice in his lunch! **APPLE JUICE!**\"\n\n\"Strangest defense I've heard in my life,\" said the judge, shaking his head as the courtroom cleared, \"Some people...\"\n\n\"Come with me, Tommy,\" the toddler's guardian ad litem held her hand out, \"We're going to meet your new foster parents!\"\n\nTommy ignored her hand. Glared at her as she turned to leave him slouching deeply in his chair. A straw from a long-finished juicebox hung loosely from his lips. He belched. Sighed. Pulled himself up, and stumbled along behind her.",
"My foot restlessly hit off the leg of the chair, a repetitive thumping sound. I was bored. Scanning the kitchen for something interesting to do while my mother finished getting ready. I spied the carton of apple juice that had been left out on the counter. My eyes then fell on the whisk, I'll make mummy a drink I thought. She'd like that. \n\nI jumped from my chair and dashed over to the counter, straining to lift the apple juice and then the whisk. I carried them over to the table, and wondered how I was going to fit the whisk into a cup. There was a bowl on the table, that will do I thought. \n\nEager to have the drink ready for my mother, I splashed the apple juice into the bowl. Whisking it was fun, little drops into the air and onto me and the table. It's colour changed as the whisked whirred through the liquid, a dark brown. It smelled different too. \n\nMy mother entered the kitchen just when I was content with the amount of whisking I had done. Excitedly I pushed the bowl towards her. \n\n'Mummy I made this for you.' I said with a sense of pride. \n\nShe smiled and pulled the bowl closer, but a frown formed as she examined it contents. \n\n'Jack where did you get this?' she asked, almost hesitantly. \n\nI pointed to the apple juice carton, feeling slightly worried, mummy didn't look pleased. Her frown had deepened. \n\nA few years later I stood in the entrance of the factory. A young man walked briskly towards me.\n\n'Mr Daniel's the whisk you ordered has arrived.' he said. "
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[WP] You are the man who turns anything he touches into skittles. Describe the discovery of your abilities.
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"The room erupted into what sounded like an ensemble of a thousand rain sticks. I stood there awkwardly, looking down at the pile of colorful candies that was once my business client. I stayed there for a short while until I realized what I was capable of, this was a power that required a great amount of responsibility. I could use it to bring in end to all famine, or to devour the world with my own rainbow tyranny. I thought about this for a long time, after this was the decision that would shape my destiny. Then I thought, \"ah fuck it\" as I clapped my hands, and I too poured down to the floor into a pile of skittles.",
"*Fuck, I really need to piss. Is there a restroom around here? There's one! Oh God, got to hurry. This is going to be a photo finish. That's funny, there's no door to open. Guess I won't get any germs then. What the fuck? My dick's already out? Looks like all that's left to do is grab my penis and guide the stream into the urinal. To do anything else besides now using my fingers to touch my penis would be absolutely unnecessary in the act of urination. Okay, here I go. Reaching down. Looking at my penis. About to grab it. With my hand. Specifically my fingers. Prepared for my finger tip to touch my penis. Skin on skin direct contact between finger and penis. Not wearing a glove, absolutely no obstruction. Just plain and simple grabbing. Riding it bareback so to speak. Not wearing a condom I've poked a hole into the end of specifically for protecting my penis from outside contact while still being able to urinate. That's not the case. The case is that I am here, having not touched anything with my bare hand since the old skittles wizard cursed me with his gibberish curse, and I am about to touch my penis. My penis. No one else's penis. Just mine. There's a guy a couple of urinals over. Not grabbing his penis. I'm grabbing my penis. Actually, you know what? I'm not going to grab it. I'm just going to let it out. Hands free. Oh yeah, this is good. It's like the most hetero way to urinate. No dick touching whatsoever. Just draining my bladder the straightest way I know how - without touching my penis. Alright, I'm empty. Now to put my penis back in my pants. With my hands. You know what? Some ladies were giving me attention before. Must have been due to the confidence of flaunting my penis openly. I'll leave it out. See what happens.*\n\nPhil went to leave the restroom without washing his hands as he hadn't touched anything. Suddenly, a terrorist entered the room with a gun.\n\n\"Touch my dick or I'll kill you!\" the terrorist demanded.\n\n\"Okay,\" Phil said, secretly rejoicing at the chance to tick another item off his bucket list.\n\nPhil reached down towards the terrorists penis with his bare hand, ready to touch it. Absolutely ready to touch the terrorists penis with absolutely no reason to assume anything out of the ordinary, say a skittles based midas touch incident, should occur. But before he could touch the penis, he thought he should perhaps check to see if he had a pen to actually cross the list with. He noticed a pen sticking out of his breast pocket. Phil went to pick it up only to find it turned into a dozen skittles upon impact with his finger.\n\n\"Oh.\""
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[WP]As your son comes of age, you try and explain to him why your people chose to stay while the rest of humanity went to live among the stars.
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"It wasn’t always so still you know. The sky when the sun set. Long back… yes, even before the time of your great Opa… the sky was filled with more movement than any one soul could count. \n\nIt was during our youth, humanity’s youth, when we built ships and followed them. Followed them with dreams, and hopes, and wonder. Searching for wealth, searching for power, but most importantly searching because there was so much to be found. \n\nWe followed them into everyplace there was to follow. Until we had it all mapped out. And then, one by one, we followed them back. Yes, it took many generations. Some say hundreds, some thousands. But slowly humanity’s youth came to an end, and we followed our satellites back. \n\nSo now its still. Each star and every space fully understood. Our ancestors used to call it magic when they didn’t understand a thing… What a concept… to not understand.\n\nBut I babble. Such things are now left to dusty history books, while we work to make this small ground comfortable in humanity’s age. From the earth we came, and to the earth we must return.\n\nYou were born during the return. \n\nThe journey is done.",
"Nathaniel,\n\nIt wasn't always like this here. I know that for your whole life, or at least the amount you can remember, I have been your only companion. This was not always the case.\n\nMany years ago, there were others. Many others. Billions and billions. So many, in fact, and so greedy were they, that they destroyed their own planet. Their home. Our home. This place was called Earth. It was, as I had read, once a very green place. Many colors. I have shown you books I hope? \n\nI would like to apologize... I know that this is sudden... when our planet reached critical state, when all the rivers dry, the oceans polluted, the food toxic, when the animals had gone extinct and the trees were dead and dried out, humankind departed, bound for the stars above. We, you and me, were left, to wait. What for, you ask? I don't know, myself. I like to think we're waiting for something wild. As you have ascertained from, well, living for 18 years, there is nothing wild to be waiting for. \n\nAs such, I have sent you on this escape pod... to escape from Earth as I wait, listen, wish for something wild. I have it set on a course to Betelgeuse-5, where the others have gone. You shall be there in what will be about 25 earth years, but will seem to you like nothing. Cryogenics, or something...it is a technology I am not too sure of and not too trusting, but whatever will get you to the others safely is good enough for me.\n\nI'm writing this message to you, with tears in my eyes. Please, never forget, Nathaniel, you are my pride and joy. You are my son. I love you more than anything. I will never forget you and I hope you never forget me.\n\nI will be waiting here, 350 5th Ave, New York, New York, USA...waiting for your return.\n\nMuch love,\n\nJoseph T. Baldwin"
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You decide how the war began/ended, who was involved, etc
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[WP] It's twenty years after the Second American Civil War. How is the country healing?
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"I was born 3 years after the war ended, and my Dad, usually one of the strongest men that I have ever met, has broken down, turned into a mass of jelly. He lost a lot of himself, literally, in the war. I never really asked or inquired about the war before, it was something that was partially taught in schools, glossed over for the more important aspects of education, like why God is important in our schools and courtrooms, why evolution is evil, and why we should pray that our leaders will protect us from the evils of this world.\n\nSo, today, on my 16th birthday, then day when I sign up for the selective service, the possibly be chosen to fight in God’s Army, to be a savior of His will upon this world, to defend democracy abroad and protect it here at home, I asked him about it.\n\nI knew he was not the most devout Christian, not everyone is, but he pays his tithes to the Church and his taxes to the State, he even prays before most meals, but I could always tell that those were just things he did, words he said. I walked into the living room where he sat in his chair, one leg propped upon the ottoman. Despite the Decency Act of 26, he had a beer in his hand. \n\nIt was Sunday, cold and autumnal, grey clouds hovering above us. And I asked him why he fought. It was a simple enough question, or at least that’s the way I saw it. He put down his beer and starred through me. I was a window into his past, his eyes no longer seeing the present. I have never felt unnerved by him, despite the missing limbs and prosthetic. But those eyes, his dead hazel eyes, made me want to vomit in fear. \n\n“Son” he said after a few minutes have passed. “The days of my youth were fraught with peril, strife. With division on all sides. We were all right in the why we fought, it was the ideas that carried us into battle and gave us strength when there was none to have. But it was the stupidest thing we could have done.”\n\nHe took a deep breath, a sigh of sorrow. “I took up arms against the government because they were no longer the leaders that they promised they would be. They could no longer fix the problems that they created, so we fought, died and killed to have it back. And we did a good job of it too.” \n\nHe wove a tale of pain and hardship that lasted all night. He spun a story that any medieval bard would be jealous of. \n\n“The day it all started I was in school, learning about the origins of the human species when the attack came and martial law was declared across the country. The government rounded up everybody on their watch list and executed them, most of them kids and idealist that ranted about freedom on the old Net. They died as innocents and protectors of liberty, which was the why of me picking up a gun and marching on D.C. \n\n“When the war ravaged on and on, lasting for 9 or so years, I had lost my left leg and arm; my first son and wife and countless friends and family. We were winning more than we were losing. The Feds soldiers were beginning to defect or disappear into the night. Then the worst happened.\n\n“The army of the Righteous, God’s Army, stood and took control and won. The swept in from the Midwest, the CSA; Christian States of America, and took over the entirety of the east coast in a matter of months. They fought us and the Feds. We were both weak, suffering heavy losses over the long war and they took advantage of it. It wasn't long after that the west coast fell and they walled off the borders.\n\n“Now, we live under God’s rule, protected by his grace, and I weep even harder for that than the tyranny of the Feds.” \n",
"\"\"Put the dang racoon blaster away, Mark!\"\n\n\"But they's COASTERS, Pops! Who knows what they's up to?\"\n\nThe older man reached over toward the younger one gently, waving the shotgun away from the couple lined up against the vehicle, waited until it was pointed to the ground and then cracked the back of his hand across the young man's left cheek.\n\n\"Don't talk back, Mark Gleen Pritchard, or I will beat you as hard as I loved your daddy. Only time you should be pointin' barrels at people is when you about to blast 'em, and these folks don't seem to be beggin' for any lead.\"\n\nMark Gleen was taller by about a foot or so than his senior, with short hair, a ragged brown jacket and stained jeans. He looked both ashamed and angry, not for being disciplined but having it happen in front of the strangers who were supposed to be a threat. Early in their middle age, they leaned into each other, eyes wide and bloodshot, the smooth fabric of their nanosuits blending against their '35 Naron Ford. They both looked professorial rather than menacing. \n\n\"Alright. Alright,\" the elder coughed from under a pair of broom-like eyebrows. An angry scar ran from right cheekbone to the corner of his mouth, perpendicular to deep creases. He moved with ease, taking away the shotgun from Mark and twisting it a few times over for closer examination, but walked with a slight limp when done.\n\n\"Had safety on whole dang time,\" he remarked. The young man twitched, hands moving as if to be shoved into pockets. \"Few times when incompetence saves lives, figures like this was one of 'em.\" He ambled toward the couple, hand extended.\n\n\"Get your hearts back down your throat, people. False alarm, you ain't getting gunned by shit-faced Midders today.\" \n\n\"D-dan and Levita Li,\" the other man said, tossing back long hair. His wife wore a synaptic device on her right ear that went askew as they had probably shuffled against the car in mortal panic. After a few seconds' worth of hesitation, they both shook the older man's hand.\n\n\"Well. Hello. Accept our apologies. Don't see many comin' thru, you see. Lots of raiders meanering, though, and that's why my nephew there was keeping you at bay.\" He chuckled, greatly amused by this. \"Clear to me you're about as much of a raider as I'm a Naron. Mark, will you extend your apologies?\"\n\nThe younger man shuffled forward, wiped his hands on his jeans, mumbled a few indeterminate sorries and fell into sullen silence, letting the older man speak.\n\n\"Anyhow, what's the two of you doing in such gettup, stopped in the middle of such backroad?\"\n\n\"We work for Naron Johnson,\" the petite Levita volunteered. \"We were trying to navigate to Old Talla, but our GPS went down and ended up here, I guess, where the driving system went bad and Dan had to take over, nearly went off-road. We stopped to troubleshoot, but...\" she shrugged. \"Signal's so weak!\n\n\"Yeaup, not a lot of towers here,\" the old man agreed. \"Not a lot of anythin', including nanosuits. Count your blessings the two of us ain't raiders either, or else your journey would be over. They'd take the fancy stuff for being fancy, and cut you for being from the Coast. At any rate, let's see if we can get you goin'.\"\n\nThe four of them began shuffling around the car, probing. Although the couple was clearly relieved, both of us sent curt glances at each other, doubtlessly revisiting an early argument--whether it was about directions, or the wisdom of taking the trip to begin with is uncertain. After Dan spent some time on the GPS panel and the Mark reset a few links on the backside of the car's battery, the wife proclaimed itself satisfied, and diagnostic checks beeped agreeable plinking sounds once the car restarted.\n\n\"Guess we'll be going now,\" Levita offered awkwardly.\n\n\"Guess you will,\" the old man agreed. \"Careful out there.\"\n\n\"Thanks for the help,\" Dan added. \"I'm unsure as to how we can express our gratitude, but we have a few...\"\n\n\"Aah, don't. Truth telling, I don't like Coasters, especially ones in nanosuits. Used to be I hated them, really. Lost lots to the War, most of all my brother,\" and here Mark twitched again, hands curving into fists, \"but I'm over it. We all made the same, so I'm no longer angry, and nobody but a raider deserves to be stranded and threatened with this here kind of banger. Don't need no gratitude, just be on your way and be safe.\"\n\nThe older man turned with Mark in tow, leaving the couple breathing easier.\n",
"We are no longer the super power we once were. If you had money you probably lost it all. If you were a scientist you are long gone, left to a country that will appreciate your intellect. If you were a politician, you are no longer welcome in your own country. It was not a war we expected to win, but it was a war we had to fight. If it weren't for our allies from across the straight, we would not have had a chance.\n\nMany still do not trust them; their record for corruption does not help. However, it cannot be disputed that they have done more for us than our old government. They helped us through our reconstruction and have left us mostly alone for the past 3 years. The people know they will be back to reap the rewards of their risks but for now we are at peace.\n\nOur allies are not the only things we have become wary of. Many blame corrupt government for the civil war, but it went much deeper than that. Once war broke out many things were taken from the citizens, internet, phone, rights, and liberties. It was only once we were stripped of these things did we see the light. It was our government who pulled the wool over our eyes, but it was our technology that kept it there. During our reconstruction we only put in the bare minimum for communication. Our new leaders did not want us to go back down the dark path that led us to this point. There was unrest and uprisings against such actions as they feared we would lose our competitive edge and be thrust back into the dark ages. \n\nIt took time, a lot of time, but now the population is starting to realize we are never going to be as powerful as we were without suffering the same fate as we had before.\n\nI was still just a boy when the war broke out, I did not fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. I grew up quick when my community’s land needed to be defended and a gun was put into my hand. Now I am a man. I still have the responsibility to protect and help my family and my community. We all work hard together and provide for each other. Food is plentiful and the people are happy.\n\nWe have sacrificed many things to reach this level of happiness. We no longer have computers in every house. We no longer have access to all the medicine we were used to. Many left the country to find better accommodations, but the ones that remained were the ones who saw the policies for what they were. Our government cannot be sustained with a high population. The war killed many, but for our system to work, our numbers must remain low. Our leaders understand this and guide us, eliminating any weaknesses along the way. \n\nWe were once the United States of America, but now we are a confederacy. Our leaders have not finalized our name. People like to joke and call ourselves the United Soviet States of America, but our leaders are not so crass. They know the people could never fully accept modeling our country name after our allies. For now, the only thing I need to call this land is Home. \n",
"It's amazing how long some fires can burn. A raging inferno can consume the world around it for dozens of miles before finally petering out after only a few hours and leave nothing but ash and ruin behind. Whereas a tiny flame, like say, a candle will burn endlessly if you shelter it and feed it. Keep it safe and that fire would burn for as long as you needed it to. Such fire is the kind of fire that brings life.\n\nIt was this thought that Elena Gubera chased around head as she supervised delegates from New California and the United States of North America filter into the Capitol Building in Galveston Texas. Moved after the sacking of Houston, Galveston was the largest city left standing in the entire Southern United States of America. Smoke from the mainland still blotted out much of horizon and obscured everything, but the largest of details. She’d heard on clear nights during the wet season you could make out the shattered skyscrapers of the old world waiting for nature to claim them. So Elena was left with two choices, watch the brown waves of the Bay lap up against the pier or go back to doing her job and survey the pathetic crowd of civilians for troublemakers.\n\nElena hated civilians. Her parents had been civilians, her husband had been a civilian, and it was civilians who had brought a great nation to its knees almost two decades out. Needy, whining civilians begging for rights and services they weren’t willing to work for. Elena spat almost as much out of disgust as to clear her mouth of dust. They pressed up against the barriers with arms out stretched hoping some generous hardworking soldier would grant them a handout. A ration bar or even some newly mint coins from New Tallahassee. Not today though, not on the day when they were all reminded of what they had sacrificed just to get here.\n\nToday was August 16th - Liberation Day in the Southern United States of America. The other nations, called it by other names, but Elena would always call it Liberation Day. She could remember listening over the HAM in New Mexico when the North American President announced the cessation of hostilities with the South and read off the terms of the Armistice. Elena had spent the next twenty years pacifying the MidWest Badlands and securing the South’s border along the 35th. After today she would finally be able to relax and try her hand at returning her nation to the its old glory.\n\nA chorus of boos from the mob announced the arrival of the North American President and chased any fond thoughts from Elena’s head. She released the safety on her AR-15 and shifted the weapon smoothly from her shoulder to her hip. Her orders were clear: fire upon the crowd if and only if the foreign President's life was directly threatened. She was to take no other action to save him. At all times she was to remember that this man was still the enemy and the leader of a defeated nation, he was not a Citizen of SUSA.\n\nThe sleek black limousine rolled up in front of the Capitol building flanked by two massive pre-war suburban utility vehicles, military grade. Such a display of wealth and power must have cost the North dearly. Elena wished fervently to have her own as she glanced over at the half-dozen retrofitted Jeep's and Humvees parked on elevated stands along the pier representing almost the complete artillery division of the Susan military. How could the North have produced so much so quickly? Perhaps they had simply found more vehicles left over from the war.\n\nSix men spilled out of each SUV all armed with weapons Elena had never seen before. The crowd saw them too and the roar faded almost immediately to a hush as the dozen soldiers surrounded the limo. They turned their backs to the crowd and faced the Capitol, as if expecting the danger to come from there. The fools were completely ignoring the rabid crowd of civilians behind them. \n\nElena felt sweat pooling between the small of her back and her ill-fitting fatigues as she felt their gaze pass over her. The distance was too great for her to see their eyes, but Elena could feel herself wilting under their scrutiny. These soldiers had judged her and found her wanting. Indeed two split off from the limo toward the SUVs and began distributing food to the gathered crowd. Elena’s jaw literally dropped. She looked to other members of her squad who as one shared her shocked expression. The wastefulness of the gesture was not lost on anyone of them; surely Northern soldiers could not be so under the thumb of their government that they would willingly hand out valuable foodstuffs to civilians.\n\nThen the North American President exited the limo and waved at the crowd, he shouted something at them that Elena couldn’t make out, but she heard the cheer that followed. Flanked by four of the soldiers the President proceeded up the wooden steps of the pier toward the Capitol building. Elena stepped to one side and opened the gate as the man approached. As he passed her the President turned to look at her for the briefest of moments. Elena would never forget those eyes. She would hold them memory of them longer than anything else. Longer than hearing the Unification announcement later that day. Longer than the memories of the shattered bodies during the Badlands campaign. Longer than the feeling of a hammer in her hands during the Reconstruction years to follow. It was what she saw in those that held her, that stopped that moment in time forever. In those eyes – she saw fire.\n",
"Pierre Mercier was the youngest man in the mass grave. He was born, raised, and educated in Paris. When he was twenty-one, America’s second Civil War began. A student of history, Pierre became swept up in the romanticism of the conflict. He began to loathe the government in Washington DC that had become a dictatorship in all but name. Every morning, he woke up and prayed for the success of the rebels who wanted to restore democracy. On his twenty-third birthday, he could wait no longer and shipped off to the United States to fight tyranny. \n\nPierre Mercier arrived in New York with a George Orwell novel under his arm and a head full of glorious, romantic ideas that only the young can believe. He would never see his beloved Paris again. Far from becoming another Hemingway, Pierre would become another casualty in a war that was still fresh in the mind of many Americans. \n\nLess than two decades have passed since the burning of the White House and the end of the Second American Civil War. Democracy has been restored. The country has been rebuilt. But the scars from the conflict remain. The Catskill Mountains represent one of the ugliest scars from the war.\n\nThe government had many enemies during the war. Anyone suspected of being a socialist, anarchist, communist, or terrorist was considered an enemy of the state and not entitled to a trial by jury. Men, women, and children were taken from their homes and brought to locations like the Catskill Mountains. After digging their own graves, they were killed by firing squads and dropped into the earth.\n\nNow, twenty years after the war has ended, the new government has hired people like me to find these mass graves and identify the bodies. This decision was a controversial one. So far, we have unearthed tens of thousands of corpses and the number continues to rise. Some think that this project costs too much money. Some think that we should leave the past as it is: buried.\n\nAdmittedly, I have my biases. I signed onto this project in the hopes that I would be able to uncover the graves of my father and older brother. Instead, I have found the hundreds of other people from all walks of life. Most are American. Some, like Pierre, are foreign. When I met with Pierre parents, I explained what happened to their son. I saw sadness in their eyes, but I also saw closure. At that moment I realized just how necessary this excavation was.\n\nWe cannot turn a blind eye to our history. There are hundreds of thousands like Pierre who died fighting for what they believed in. These men, women, and children have a story and we must hear them so that we do not make the same mistakes of the past. If we allow young men like Pierre Mercier to stay buried, we will one day soon have another generation of young men to bury alongside him."
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[WP] In a world where God takes an active part in human life, and is omnipotent to the point where he can, essentially, grant wishes, people must present their cases for why God should help them regardless of how greedy, necessary, sad, pointless, or evil their requests in a weekly public forum.
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"8:36 pm and Alice was in the same spot at the edge of her bed that she'd fruitlessly gone to for twenty years. Since the day she was born, her parents drilled into her how to meet them in the Corridor. How everyone on the planet did it, how the world got to God and all of his presents. It never worked for Alice. Her parent's would scream, \"You'll never make it in life without him, you'll never get anything\".\n\nEven though she had never met God, she still went to her spot every night. The creme carpet was permanently marked from the way she had always knelt. Round indents growing larger with age. Every night - same spot, same time, same prayer, same result.\n\nTo go twenty years without being spoken to or given gifts was unheard of. Alice remembered when she was twelve, all of the kids would endlessly rant about the great conversations they'd had in the bright lights the night before. They would talk as though their best friend had sat and gossiped with them. That's what she was jealous of. It wasn't the fact that they would come to school the next day with new puppies or the greatest toys -- hell, one time Billy rode to school on a robot God had given him. Everyone had everything they could ever want: huge houses, an infinite supply of food, any ridiculous request was fulfilled. She didn't care about stuff. That's not what she prayed for. What she really wanted was a friend, no one talks to the girl that God wouldn't talk to.\n\nShe had only heard about what the Corridor of Souls looked like. Through whispered voices she knew it was massive beyond comprehension. In the center, the brightest light shone upon every man & women as they gathered around God. Everyone but her, it seemed.\n\n8:37 pm and she still wasn't in the Corridor with the rest of the world. Same as every night. She closed her eyes even tighter. She had to meet him, all she had ever prayed for was to know God. Tears started to run down her cheeks, dripping onto her dent in the carpet. She collapsed to the ground, it felt like she was drowning in the ocean. Suddenly, as quickly as she had collapsed, she felt warmth. She did it! She knew as soon as she opened her eyes she would see her parents, her classmates; she would finally see the light. Alice opened her eyes so very slowly. When they finally fully opened she stared in disbelieve, she was still in her room. No light, nothing. Devastated, she started screaming when a hand touched her shoulder. All worries disappeared. Without turning around she knew who it was.\n\n\"Why, God? Why have you never brought me to the Corridor... Did I do something wrong?\" God laughed in a way that instantly brought a smile to her face. \"Child, amongst all of humankind you have done the least wrong. You are the future, dearest Alice. The world has grown far too accustomed to having any wish granted. They languish because they do not need to work on their own. They will never grow because they have been coddled. Very soon, there will be no more Corridor, no more mundane requests granted. Mankind will think I've left them but some will see the truth. You will see the truth, Alice. I love you too much to hold you back.\"",
"\"Next!\" A shrill voice called out. A thin lady rested behind a desk, supported by large white wings that flapped occasionally. \"The Omniscience will see you now.\" A nearby door swung open of its own accord. \n\nSteve took a glance behind him, at an extending line of irritated people, each clutching the piece of paper that permitted them to ask for a wish. A smile parted his thin face and, pushing aside some slightly greasy black hair, he stepped through the doorway. \n\nThe light was brilliant, dazzling. It was like shadow was expunged from the room in a force of shining white. Steve thought it was a bit over the top. After all, this was all routine; going to God and passing on your request. \n\nSteve realised he'd been standing still and mute. The source of the light cleared a throat, although what contrived to make the noise he could not really tell. \n\n\"Your wish?\" The Voice finally uttered, a tad impatiently.\n\n\"Oh, I don't want a wish.\" He replied with a wan smile. There was a pause, that seemed to last an eternity. Considering he was in the chamber of the Omniscience, it probably did. \n\n\"Er, what? \"\n\n\" Yeah, no wish, thanks. I'm an atheist.\"\n\"Are you telling me, with all of the infallible evidence for my existence, in front of you... You're an atheist?\"\n\n\"Yes. But a real deity should have known that.\"\n\n\"Can't argue with that logic. Oh, fu-\"\n\nAbruptly, the light winked out of existence. Steve smiled. ",
"The greatest room in the universe unfolded out before John. Infinite halls of luxury and lavishly decorated marble spread in all directions. \nHe would never find his way to the court, but of course once it was time it would sort of just show up. \n\"I have a wife and two kids, I can not die of cancer and leave them broke and alone, I have a wife and two kids, I can't die.\" John muttered this as he wandered the halls getting ready to speak to god. \n \nEventually a door appeared and John walked in, the court was empty, but for three men. Father O'Rourke had told him to expect this. \n \n\"My child...Why are you here?\" the voice boomed from the judge, from god. \"I...have a wife.... kids, 2 of them, I can not die of cancer,\" John looked at the three men who did not react, \"I can't die, they will have nothing.\" \nThe two men stepped out and the judge walked down to the court. He lay his hands on the large dark wood table, \"Do not lie.\" \n\"I love my family, I will not simply die.\" \n\"Do you love your wife? you watch other women, think of others in bed when with her... my child you are not lying to me...\" \nJohn began to sweat, \"I want a representative,\" he pointed to the door the two men had exited from. \n \n\"So be it, Father O'Rourke did explain this part,\" said God as the doors opened \"a case of sin is for Lucifer and he has a price.\" \n \nOne of the men entered looking impeccably tailored, \"Pleasure to meet ye, still the whole 'lie' part, you did the right thing.\" \n \n\"My child... Face the truth or I can not help you.\" said the judge. \nThe court was silent, Lucifer already had the contract to grant his services. \n\"Sign here, and I will get you what you want.\" He said. \n\"At what price?\" asked john looking at the contract, \"soul of my first born, Michael, you want Michael.\" \n \nThe judge raised a hand and silence took over the room, not even a breeze \"Son, my child... I grow weary... accept it, you are lying.\" \n\n\"How? I love my family and my life.\" \n\"You drink and are currently considering condemning your son to hell,\" the judge smiled as Johns face dropped, \"It always takes people time to realize, that this is not your world, here you can only deceive yourself.\" \n \nJohn swallowed and looked up at the judge, \"I hate my wife, she cheated till she let herself get fat. Now no one wants her so she stopped fucking them, but my kids, fuck me, talk about disappointments. I want to live, I want to drink and fuck and live. I ain't lived one day... not in the last 20 years and now you give me cancer... fuck you.\" \n\"So my child why are you here?\" \n\"I want a second chance, I want a life worth living.\" \nThe judge sat down and raised the gavel, \"no,\" and with a thud he refused John, \"you do, like many mortals, not understand your own world. You think your wish is small, but they have far reaching cost. \nI wish I could get that job... that is a common request, but unless you were the best candidate I now have to invade the minds of multiple mortals and manipulate them to do my bidding... and every last one of you... feels like they somehow deserve it.\" \n \nJohn turned to Lucifer and signed the contract, \"And now I get it anyway.\" \n \nThe judge slumped in his chair, \"My son I tried, you died in your sleep and this is your Judgement... for envy, wrath, greed, lust and pride I find you not worthy and banish you to hell.\" \n \nThe judge sat up as John fell through the floor and Gabriel and Lucifer came back to the stands. \"Next.\" \n \n \nEdit: some tidying up. ",
"Sarah could not keep still. She has been waiting for this day for thirty-five years. She re-read the piece of parchment she received when she was a minute old: \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nOn March 5, 2013, Sarah Wassermen will be aged thirty-five years old. On this day, Ms. Wassermen will attend St. Joseph’s Roman Catholic Church for Mass. On that day, the Great Almighty will come to Ms. Wassermen and she will be allowed one request. If Ms. Wassermen is not at St. Joseph’s Roman Catholic Church, this letter becomes invalid and she will not receive any requests granted for the rest of eternity.\n\n\n\n\nSincerely,\n\n\n\n\nThe Offices of St. Peter\n\n\n\n\n\nSarah never lived a life of wondering if there was God; if there was a Heaven; which faith was correct. It was all answered in this letter. She sat at St. Joseph’s Church pew at the very front. She did not want to be missed. Five others sat alongside of her each looking equally nervous. Some whispered politely to each other discussing what they will ask for, what will God look like. Sarah knew what He looked like. As a small girl, she accompanied her mother to her Request Day. God came to her mother in a long white robe like the books and the movies say. He was young looking and had such welcoming warmth radiating out of him. He smiled at Sarah’s mother and knelt down beside Sarah. It was like instinct; Sarah got off the pew and sat right into His lap. She wrapped her little arms around his strong shoulders and squeezed. She felt at home. She felt loved. Sarah smiled at this thought and missed that feeling. It’s been so long since she had that feeling. After that experience nothing could compare. Not with her parents, her husband, even her own children. It was as if she was lost in the wreckage and only He could find her again. \n\n\n\n\nSarah knew what her request would be. She told her husband the night before in bed. He held her hand and smiled. He knew Sarah had suffered inside for such a long time and he hoped this would be the miracle fix for his wife. He finally came with a flash of white light. He smiled down at the pew of people and looked directly in Sarah’s eyes. She felt a strong sting through her heart and she started to cry quietly. He knew! He knew! Without a thought she ran up the stairs to the alter, and took hold of Him. He laughed and held her for ten whole minutes. Those ten minutes felt like an eternity. The eternity she needed. At the end of the embrace, He stepped back and kissed her forehead. She felt the weight of the world off of her. She felt cured. She thanked Him and left St. Joseph’s Church. She was ready to start her life anew. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n***new to using formating******",
"\"Number four billion, three hundred and four million, eight hundred and twenty two thousand, six hundred and eleven.\" Yet another number droned out over the immense waiting room.\n\nA greasy man, middle aged, shuffled to his feet somewhere in the rear. Hank was his name. Looking over his file, nothing particularly remarkable came to fruition. Just another seeking a temporary reprieve from the reality of life.\n\nHank tottered his way to the front of the room. For what seemed like an hour, the sounds of his footsteps echoed in the room of souls.\n\nBut it was okay. The wisdom and patience of eons were brought to bear each week.\n\nHank presented himself on the podium. Shaking, he raised his eyes, squinting despite there being no great source of light. No matter how hard he tried, Hank couldn't meet a gaze.\n\n\"State your request.\" The voice boomed out over the crowd, coming from nowhere and everywhere simultaneously.\n\nHank jumped. He was a slightly thing. Looking over the file, it was easy to tell why. Hank had lost his fortunes after the market crashed in America. The rags hanging from his frame told the story.\n\n\"I... I would only like a new pair of shoes... the ones I had were stolen. Working is difficult now, and I need to provide for my family... please help me...\" The man was on his knees, pleading.\n\nIt considered the request. It didn't take long. The line had to be thinned out. In any case, the answer had always been the same. Hank's existence was predestined. Let alone a request for shoes.\n\n\"No.\" The voice boomed out across the room like a cannon.\n\nWith a puff and a tear, Hank's form vanished.\n\n*\n\n\"Number four billion, three hundred and four million, eight hundred and twenty two thousand, six hundred and twelve.\""
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[WP] A day in the life of the characters in the last painting you saw
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"Creature sat on his poorly drawn chair looking into space. Staring blankly, with no emotion. Waiting for months, looking intently into The Creator's kitchen. Creature was becoming very exhausted, his head felt like it might rip off his body. This is because his head was twenty times the size of his body. \n\nHe resembled a watermelon propped up on some twigs. His eyes were two different sizes. One was huge taking up almost half of his head. The other eye was tiny, about the size of a pin head. He lacked a real nose, only some crudely drawn holes that failed to smell anything but snot and farts. His smile looked like something that the joker would be disgusted by. A crudely drawn red slit and crooked teeth, forced into a demented smile.\n\nEveryday he watches The Creator come in and stuff his face with sweets. Placing his smelly, disgusting, grubby little hands on everything. The Creators mother was the one who placed Creature on display for all to see. A cruel punishment, forcing Creature to face The Creator's family and friends every day. Providing a source of fake enjoyment and real disgust.\n\nToday though the kitchen was empty. No one was home. Suddenly Creature felt a strong breeze come through the open window. It hit him like a hurricane, knocking him from his perch. He fell slowly, gliding to the floor. Then he heard a noise. A loud bark came from the room next door. A large dog came running into the kitchen. It began to sniff wildly, locating Creature. It licked Creature and then picked him up in his mouth.\n\nCreature knew what was going to happen next. He was going to be eaten. At first he felt fear. But then he accepted his fate. \"Finally.. Mercy!\" he yelled. These were first words to ever pass his tormented lips. The dog then opened his mouth and chewed creature up. Crushing his deformed body and swallowing him. The next thing Creature saw was darkness. His time was over.",
"Nothing.\n\nSilence.\n\nDarkness.\n\nThe man was there. There was no sound to be heard. Nothing surrounded the man. Time did not exist.\n\nHe thought for his escape. Not how to escape the area he was in but the problem itself. He remembered a sentence he was taught: Every problem has a solution. He began by thinking. There was nothing here to be used, just the void of darkness. He could not escape.\n\nTherefore he must create.\n\nHe began by building a series of thoughts in his head. He expanded his network of ideas and concepts into a world. Once the world was built he went back and reinforced everything from the start. He had nothing for comfort, just one thesis: Every problem has a solution.\n\nHe continued his construct until it was finished, meticulously planned down to the last period and comma. There was nothing to edit, nothing to change, nothing to fix. Lastly he would disperse himself as particles across his universe, creator becoming part of creation.\n\nThe final test.\n\n\"Spring forth, my creation, and everything that ever will be.\" He said.\n\nAnd so it did.\n\nInspired by [this](http://behance.vo.llnwd.net/rendition/modules/16293520/disp/1427ffc6259e4e3cea729ef998ee83cf.jpg)",
"The wind picked up. Marie-Claire clutched her parasol as the wind swept through the poppy field, causing a stir in the blooms like waves on the sea.\n\nCamille and Jean finally caught up.\n\n\"Renee, my child.\" Marie-Claire said. \"Why don't you show Jean your bouquet?\"\n\nNodding, Renee smiled and ran off.\n\n\"Aren't they sweet?\" Camille asked as she gingerly made her way down the hill. \"Just like when we were younger.\"\n\n\"Not exactly like us\" Marie-Claire laughed. \"We were a tad more... Bohemian.\"\n\n\"Indeed\" Camille chirped. \"Why aren't we still... Bohemian? You could have refused the proposal. We could've have gone to Paris, or Rome. Left Argenteuil behind.\"\n\n\"I love Renee,\" Marie-Claire said. \"Don't you feel the same way about Jean?\"\n\n\"I do\" Camille smiled sadly. \"But I do wonder about what could've been.\"\n\nThe wind picked up again, and in the distance Renee was showering Jean with her bouquet of poppies, much to his embarrassment.\n\nMarie-Claire took a deep breath.\n\n\"It's such a beautiful day, let's not mope around. We should strive to live.\"\n\n\"Yes, strive to live\" Camille replied. With that, they set off after the children.\n\n[Poppy Field, Monet](https://www.google.com/search?q=poppy+field+monet&newwindow=1&espv=210&es_sm=122&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=HH2gUpXsJYTZkQeLuIHwBA&ved=0CAkQ_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=642)",
"It had been twelve hours since Roger had told Katherine to meet him at the diner. He didn’t know the specifics of his meeting; that’s what they were going to discuss. Like all of his clients, he would take them to the diner, buy them a late-night coffee, suss out the details, and then purchase them a piece of pie as he left.\n\nHe last spoke to her on a payphone at the corner of Charmont and Main. She sounded like she was in a hurry, but Roger knew these things weren’t to be rushed. In his moleskin, he jotted down a few things that she quietly told him. Roger’s eyes scanned up and down the sidewalk as she talked, making sure to take note of anything suspicious; black cars that hadn’t moved but had passengers, men reading the same page of the newspaper too long, or windows whose blinds keep flapping open.\n\nNothing out of the norm caught his eye, so he proceeded to end the call. They hadn’t discussed price, means, or location; only the bare essentials. But this was also when learned the names. Katherine Barnes, and a Mister Johnathan Barnes.\n\nWhen he heard the name Johnathan Barnes, his stoic countenance barely flickered, however the name did set his heartbeat racing. Johnathan Barnes was a wealthy businessman, known across the country. He was infamous for both his ruthless business tactics and his overbearingly gruff demeanor. These days, he sported a cane and a bald spot, but in his prime, he both worked his child-laborers to the bone seven days a week, and shot bears from the tops of mountains.\n\nThe twelve hours between the call and the meeting were a time in which Roger did a lot of thinking. Could he afford to take on a job like this? An income was his main goal, but being a free man was just as important to him, and a target with heat like Johnathan Barnes certainly lowered his chances of maintaining that status. Alas, Roger’s moral code, although lessened in some aspects, was high in most others, and keeping his word to his clients was paramount.\n\nRoger rounded the corner onto Charmont street at 11:52. Being punctual was one of the most important things in a position like his. He lowered his grey trilby over his eyes as he passed into the bands of light beaming out of the diner window. The bell hanging from the doortop chimed, and he surveyed the diner for Katherine. On the phone, she stated she would be wearing a bright red dress, one that would be hard to miss in a midnight diner. Surprisingly, he saw her sitting at the bar, chatting to the strangely photogenic barkeep. He thought it would have been obvious to be more low-key, but he had learned over the years that most clients were quite unknowledgeable to things he found self-evident.\n\n“Hi there, miss.” Roger stated nonchalantly, as he sat down on the barstool next to her. He rapped his knuckles on the counter and told the young barman for two coffees.\n\n“Hi there, stranger.” She said back, flitting her eyes his way, briefly.\n\n“What brings you to a little diner at this time of night?” he returned, knowing from their previous conversation what her answer would be. He had a fair idea what Katherine Barnes looked like, but protocol was formality.\n\n“I was walking home from a friends engagement party, but got I wanted a slice of the cherry pie. I hear it’s to die for.”\n\nHe knew using an idiom like this was cliché, but it was what his old partner had taught him, and old habits die hard.\n\n“It certainly is. If you were to order it, how long would you want to wait?”\n\nShe stared at him for a moment. “Quickly. I would want it quickly. And without any…” she took a breath. “whipped cream.”\n\nRoger nodded slightly.\n\n“When would you want it?”\n\n“I’d like it this Friday night. At my home.” She said affirmatively. Roger took a moment to make sure that was okay. \n\n“I see. Lastly, how much would you want to pay for this? Pie, of course.” He asked back to her. She paused again, her nose flaring gently.\n\n“10.” She said. She saw Roger’s face tighten. “20.”\n\nRoger nodded once more. He straightened out the cuffs of his shirt and leaned back.\n\n“Well I understand that ma’am. Can I get a piece of cherry pie for the lady? No whipped cream.” He said, rising from his stool. The barkeep cut a piece of pie and put it on a hard ceramic plate.\n\nRoger put his hand on Katherine’s shoulder as he strode around her.\n\n“Nice seeing you here, miss.” He said, lowering his trilby once more.\n\n“It’s misses.” She shouted back to him, as he reached the door. He looked back over his shoulder, not quite making eye contact. A smile tugged at the edge of his face, although he knew that it wasn’t right.\n\n“Yeah.” He muttered back at her, the sarcasm palpable in the doorway.\n\nHe walked out into the night, leaving the warm, glowing light of diner slashing a silhouette into the pavement. \n\n\n----\nThe last painting I saw was \"Nighthawks\" by Edward Hopper, although I hope some of you were able to guess that from my writing. The picture is [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nighthawks)."
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She becomes a superhero and fights crime/bad guys. No further restrictions.
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[WP] origin story for 83 year old woman who suddenly receives super powers.
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"When the man stood in her doorway, sharply dressed, one of the suits from the damned Towers for certain, she was confused only for an instant. But she knew what it meant. Her mother had received word of her own brother's death in the war in the same way. And she knew immediately, that something terrible had happened to her Harry.\n\n\"Mrs. Luckhardt?\" He asked, but he knew the answer.\n\nShe nodded, and took the compulsive, reflexive look out into her hallway. It was the same as it ever was, dark and damp and in ruins, much like her own apartment.\n\nIt was trying for her to keep up the charade of a finer life, now in these years. The sheen had been lost to all those except the ones from the Towers like the man before her.\n\nHer husband worked himself into old age and into dust settling into their bones, just to provide for the two of them. She had always told him to be careful, but care mattered little in the end.\n\n\"We at Harper & Pym Industrial wish to give you our sincerest condolences...\"\n\nShe raised her frail neck to the box outstretched toward her.\n\n\"Your husband was a good man. A good maintenance worker.\"\n\nShe reached for the box, not needing to hear the rest.\n\n\"The finest we've had. And for his fifty years of service with us, we'd like to pay our respects in person.\"\n\nWhen she gripped it with her hands as the suit was still holding it, she felt the weight, the unnatural heaviness of something so small.\n\n\"These were his effects. Gathered from his locker shortly after the accident.\"\n\nAnd as his fingers let go, she could feel the weight dissipate, until it felt like nothing.\n\nCurious, she nearly spoke.\n\n\"It was during a...routine exercise. Casualties were not expected, which makes the whole thing more tragic.\"\n\nShe stepped away from him and into their - now her - apartment. The man in the suit followed through the open door.\n\nPlacing the box on the table, she opened it to glimpse the start of a letter addressed to her from her husband, \"DEAR CAROLINE-\"\n\n\"Mrs. Luckhardt.\"\n\n\"Yes? Is there something more?\" Her face was red, flushed with colour, though she did not know why.\n\n\"We, uh, again, would like to express our greatest sympathies.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. Alright. Thank you.\" Her voice was sharp. Quick. Quicker than it had been in over 20 years.\n\n\"If..there's anything else we can do for you, please give us a shout.\" He extended his arm, and at the tips of his fingers sat a white card with a phone number.\n\nShe gazed at him, arm extended, without taking it.\n\nHe smiled and placed the card down on the table and turned to leave.\n\nOutside the window, a flash of red zoomed past the window.\n\n\"Blasted... That damn Captain So and So.\" He pulled out a small phone and pressed it to his ear. \"Yes. Third district sighting. ... No I was dropping off something to the janitor's widow.\"\n\nShe paid no mind as the man in red flew about outside of his own volition, tearing at the armaments in the city. Nor to the cursing of the man in the suit as he went over to her window and fired outward at the red blur with something that wasn't quite a gun.\n\nShe did not notice the wrinkles on her fingers disappearing as they travelled into the box, reaching for the rest of the letter. \"-IF THIS FINDS YOU THEN I AM SURELY DEAD-\"\n\nShe didn't even flinch as the window blew inward and the man in red stood on top of the man in the suit, arms outstretched and triumphant, though without reason.\n\nAll she noticed was the glowing of the small blue and white rock tucked away under her dead husband's things. And that she felt better than ever before.\n\n\n----\n\n[Part of a longer and darker (and slightly blackly comedic) story I've been playing around with for a couple years.]",
"\"Jeez, lady, this is disgusting!\" Mark was careful to mutter under his breath as he rummaged for biscuits with a sell-by date this decade. Nan was as deaf as a post, but sometimes he suspected she had a serious case of selective hearing.\n\nHe lifted down some chocolate-chip cookies (checking the date first; some of Nana's biscuits weren't even made any more) and dropped them on the tray next to the tea. He carried everything through to the lounge and placed the tray on the coffee table in front of Nana, who was perched on the plastic couch cover.\n\n\"That looks lovely, Mark. Thank you for coming. I hardly see you any more.\"\n\n\"Your cupboard's packed with old biscuits, Nana. If you like I can clear it out for you. I think some of those are older than I am.\"\n\n\"No, no. You're not here to tidy. Just sit and have some tea with me.\" She cleared her throat. \"I know it's a bit messy. I always like to have some biscuits in there for visitors.\"\n\nHe tried to let it go. She didn't even get visitors; she was too deaf to make conversation with anyone but her family, who were obliged to shout.\n\nThey sat for a while and shared tea and biscuits in friendly silence, before Mark loudly gave his excuses and promised to pop in again tomorrow. He kissed her on the cheek and left, closing the front door with a bang that even Nana heard. She winced, just a little. Such a boisterous young man. She must remember to buy some more biscuits before he came back.\n\nShe leaned to pull her walking frame closer but couldn't reach. Sighing, she stood, infinitely slowly and cautiously (don't want to break another one, I only have two), and tottered to the frame. She moved the empty cups to the tray and moved to the kitchen to wash them.\n\n\"Maybe one more biscuit. Why not?\" She realised Mark had gobbled the lot. These growing boys. She turned to the cupboard and reached as far as she could -- which wasn't far -- and took down the first pack her fingers grasped. They were Tim Tams, her second-favourite. Good enough.\n\nPulling the pack open with knobbled fingers, she took a bite from the first biscuit. It had been hard work bringing the cups through to wash. She needed a rest. She put the Tim Tams in the walker's basket and went back to the couch. It was almost time for Eastenders, too. She leaned back and popped another Tim Tam in her mouth, eyes on the TV, volume turned as high as it could go.\n\nMark found her the next day, unconscious, slumped on the couch with a half-empty Tim Tam packet on her lap. He dropped to the couch beside her and found the remote to turn off the deafening sound of Wheel of Fortune.\n\n\"Nana!\" He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her, gently at first, then harder. \"Nana!\" As Mark felt around on her bony wrist for a pulse, she groaned and stirred.\n\n\"Nana? Are you okay?\"\n\n\"What?\" Her eyes sprang open and focused on Mark's face.\n\n\"Are you okay? How long have you been here?\"\n\n\"On the couch? I... I don't know. I was watching Eastenders.\"\n\n\"Last night? You've been unconscious almost for twenty-four hours, Nana! How do you feel? I'm calling Mum.\"\n\nNana looked at her watch. \"No, no, love. She's at work. And I feel fine. I think I just had a very long sleep.\" She looked doubtful and Mark hesitated, hand on the phone.\n\n\"Don't worry, love. I just need a cup of tea.\"\n\nHe lowered his hand and picked up the Tim Tam packet.\n\n\"These are from 1977, Nana! You probably have food poisoning!\"\n\n\"Don't be silly. Are they really?\" Nana's eyes brightened. \"They tasted fine to me. Now, I really do need a cuppa.\"\n\nShe stood up and stretched, arching her spine, hands pointed at the ceiling. Mark's breath caught and he stared at her, frozen.\n\n\"Nana? Are you okay?\"\n\nArms down, she frowned at him. \"Of course! In fact, I think that sleep was just what I needed. I feel quite full of beans. Do you want to go for a walk?\"\n\n\"Uh, yes?\" \n\nNana marched through the lounge, put the kettle on to boil, and continued through to her bedroom, emerging shortly after in a change of clothes. She had put on a pair of toothpaste-white running shoes. She hadn't been able to tie her own shoelaces in five years. Mark sat on the couch, unable to take his eyes off her as she moved agilely around the flat.\n\nShe made them both a cup of tea, carried them through to the couch, and plopped down beside him, slurping happily at her drink. She popped another Tim Tam from the opened 1977 packet into her mouth between sips. Mark's tea sat, undrunk, on the coffee table. He'd forgotten to close his mouth.\n\n\"Right, then! Don't you want your tea? Oh, well. Let's go.\" She ushered Mark out of the flat and locked the door. \n\n\"Goodness gracious! I haven't been outside in months! The last time was when I came home from the hospital, wasn't it, love?\" Mark nodded, mouth still agape. Nana chattered on as they went out the gate and started up the hill towards the supermarket. She seemed to have boundless energy. Mark was puffing by the time they got halfway up the hill, although he thought he was hiding it well.\n\n\"I need some milk and bread, Mark. Let's pop in here and then carry on to see your Mum, eh?\" She swerved into the supermarket entrance, not looking at Mark or at the traffic. A car pulled into the carpark as Nana stepped out around the boundary hedge. Mark only had time to pull in a breath, ready to yell, when the car hit her. She was directly in front, and Mark noticed the dent in the chrome bumper as she flew in slow motion through the air over the car. He had time to take in the horrified expression on the driver's face, to hear the shocked gasp of a nearby pedestrian, to start to raise his arms as if to catch her, even from so far away.\n\nThe thud as she hit the ground seemed deafening to Mark. Time sped up again and he sprinted around the car, catching his hip on the corner of the boot and sliding to his knees beside her crumbled form.\n\n\"Nana! Oh, god, Nana.\" He could feel tears running down his cheeks and put his hands over his eyes.\n\nA hand came down on his shoulder as he wept.\n\n\"Mark? It's okay. I'm fine.\"\n\nShe's dead, he thought, and now she's haunting me. Oh god, I'll be haunted by out-of-date biscuits. He sobbed.\n\n\"Mark, come on. Snap out of it!\"\n\nHe took his hands away from his face. Nana was standing above him, grinning.\n\n\"I feel great! Come on, love, I need milk, and... What was the other thing?\"\n\n\"...bread?\"\n\n\"That's right. Thanks, love.\" She took his arm and led him into the market, leaving the gaping crowd behind."
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[WP] A gay man explains to his adopted kids how their other father saved his life and they fell in love.
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"\"Boys, I think it's time you knew,\" Cameron said. \n\n\"Knew what, papa?\" Jack asked\n\n\"About how your dad and I met.\" Jack and his little brother Eli scrambled to the couch and sat down. They looked expectantly at their dad, waiting to hear his story.\n\n\"See, when I was twelve, I learned I was gay. And you know your grandparents. They hate gays because of their religion. I didn't tell them at first, but when I came out to myself, I started a lot of things.\n\nI started to get depressed easily. I'm not talking 'Oh, this happened. Now I'm sad.' and then you get over it soon. I'm talking 'I'm such an idiot. No one loves me, I'm a failure. A screw-up. No one would care if I was gone. I can't bear to live like this anymore.' I had wanted to die. I almost killed myself a few times because of my depression. But anyways, I had started posting on an LGBT support forum to get these feelings off my chest. And... I met your daddy.\"\n\n\"Really? What did he say?\"\n\n\"How did he act?\"\n\n\"Did he talk funny?\" \n\nCameron laughed and shook his head. \"All I knew were the words he typed to me. We started talking more and more and moved to IM. But... he caught me on a bad day. I was thinking about suicide again. Without a moment's hesitation, he called me. He kept telling me how much he cared for me. I was blown away. We had just met and he cared that much about me. He gradually talked me down and started to help me get professional help. As time went on, I realized I truly loved him. Not just for his act of saving me, but for his kindness, his laugh, the way he always made me feel special, and just... for who he is.\" Cameron sighed happily with a smile on his face. Connor was his true love. There was no denying that. ",
"First time for first person.\n\n\"Come on pop. I'm in college now. I want to know. How did you meet dad?\" I watched as he wrung his hands and glanced around nervous as if some boogyman was going to come and snatch him. His dark, leathery skin crinkles around his eye and brows.\n\n\"Papa Scott. We want to know.\" My sister extends her long slender arms across the worn wooden table. She takes my fathers massive hands in hers and pets them gently. \"Were old enough now,\" her voice sounds like velvet.\n\n\"Well now, ahhh.\" I can see him struggling. It was my papa Mark who was outgoing. He had been the volunteer for all of our school and sports activities growing up. He had been one of the few in the community to open about his life style. Although he had always said being in theater was easier than papa Scott's job of an architect.\n\n\"Papa,\" my sister pleads with him.\n\n\"Uhh,mmm\" I can see him breaking to our pressure. Since papa Mark passed we all have spoken little of him. It was better at school to just think of him as still alive. He was still alive to me. But when Liz found out that papa Scott wasn't doing well health wise either we decided we needed to know how this blended family came to be.\n\n\"I met Mark in New York in ah,\" we wait as he cocks his head trying to remember the day. \"October 1973.\" He gives us both a gentle smile. Liz grins back at him. I lean back in the stiff chair causing it to squeak. \"Careful, I have been meaning to fix that.\"\n\n\"Its fine pop. Keep going,\" I encourage him as the refrigerator ice machine hums on.\n\n\"I just gotten back from Vietnam and ah, I wanted to see New York City. So I took a bus up from Virginia to see what I hadn't seen.\"\n\n\"What did you think papa?\" Liz rests her head on her hand with a big smile.\n\n\"Yeah we know you go to school there miss east coast,\" I chide her. \"Let pop tell his.\"\n\n\"Lizzy belle it wasnt like it is now. I mean it was a rough city then.\" He says scrapping his dry thumbs past one another. \"The way I figured though. I've been through 'nam I could do New York.\" I let out a chuckle. I know where I got my sense of humor from. My pop smiles back at me.\n\n\"It was a mess of a place. The girl I was with-\"\n\n\"You were with a girl?\" my sister and I gasp with surprise.\n\n\"Well sure. Like I said. Times were not like they are now. I had a girl and everything. If you had,\" I watch as he starts wringing his hands again. \"If you had feelin's the way I do. You dont show it, and you sure as hell don't say it.\" My sister and I glance at each other.\n\n\"We walked around and saw some of the sights but she wasn't too happy about it. So I left her back at the hotel and took ah,\" I can tell he is struggling for the right words. He still feels like he needs to protect us. As if we don't know what two gay men do behind closed doors. \"Tour,\" he says to us with a smile as if he has concealed something from us.\n\n\"And what did you 'see' on this tour?\" I see my pop's dark eyes measure me up and down. I know he would prefer a more conservative conversation with is kids but what does he expect when he is the one who raised us.\n\n\n\"I went to a bar or two.\" He shrugs at us. \"But I,\" his voice dies as his eyes focus on Liz's hand that is tapping against the table top. We watch as he crosses his arms and draws his thumb up tapping his round lips while he remains lost in thought. My sister and I wait at the edge of our seats for him to continue. He gives a chuckle then looks up watery eyed at us too.\n\n\"He saved me you know,\" he gives another beefy chuckle.\n\n\"Well don't keep us in suspense papa.\" My sister wriggles her chair around. Her thick Afro bouncing as sits down with her legs tucked under.\n\n\"Well,\" he pats her little hands and chuckles again. \"I must of taken a wrong turn somewhere. But I found that several people didn't like the looks of me. You know the times,\" he shrugs off.\n\n\"No pop I don't know the times,\" I say crossing my arms. It has always bothered me how he lets something like racism just roll off his back. Growing up I had to stand my ground when they said things about my pop's. Especially when they said something about Pop Scott being black. Its easy to remember how they treated me and my sister. I was white as they come, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was half black and Cherokee. Kids at school tugged on her hair and called her names and me names for being her brother.\n\n\"Yes you do,\" he shoots back at me. I do. But they haven't changed that much. A subtle smile comes to my face as I remember the fat freckled kick who I sucker punched in his jelly roll after he called my sister some name. Even though neither of my pop's admitted it, I think they were proud.\n\n\"Papa, stop feeding into his stupidity,\" my sister snorts. \"I want to know how you meet Papa Mark.\" She shakes his arm and lets out one of her excited squeals.\n\n\"Alright then,\" his voice booms with chuckles. \"So they didn't like that I was black,\" he shoots me a look. \"I tried to say I was sorry and backed up as fast as I could. But they got me against a wall.\" He raised his hands up as if he was in some old western stickup.\n\n\"I said I was sorry maybe a dozen times. They said they were going to cut me,\"\n\n\"Oh papa,\" my sister whimpers.\n\n\"Well I'm ok,\" I watch as she scoots closer to him and he wraps his big bear arm around her.\n\n\"What happened next,\" I try and urge him on.\n\n\"This voice comes from the end of the alley,\" he waves his hand as if he is standing in that alley again. His eyes staring past me. \"'Hey, let that kid go. I called the cops.' Ah, at first they didn't. Me and they guys holding me up just looked at this lanky white guy.\" He chuckles again. My sister giggles with him. My pop Mark was a pretty tall awkward guy, but he was great. \"Well they ah, didn't want to stick around and find out. Some ambulance siren went off and I guess it scared them good. So then Mark comes striding over to me and I ah-\"\n\n\"Are you blushing papa?\" Liz giggles and wraps her arms around him. Her freckles dance under her dark long lashes as my pop and her rock each other with hugs.\n\n\"Alright,\" he huffs. His cheeks bulging from smiling so much. Liz runs her fingers across his smooth scalp and pats his arm before leaning on him again to hear the rest of the story. \"Well he was great. He offered to buy me a drink and ah, the way we looked at each other.\" He paused looking at Liz's big white smile. \"I think he knew as well as I did. We had several drinks and talked till nearly dawn and then ah, we parted with ah promise to stay in touch.\" He nodded firm at my sister.\n\n\"Did you kiss him?\" She blurts out. My pop shoots me a worried glance then back at her.\n\n\"Well we ah,\"\n\n\"You did! You did! You so did!\" Her squeals even make me jump in my seat.\n\n\"Yes,\" my pop says bashfully as she giggles intertwining her fingers with excitement.\n\n\"Oh papa that was the best. When did you guys finally get together though?\"\n\n\"Well we wrote and called for about a year. I visited him time to time. Then I ah, nothing was happening for me back home so he told me that he missed me and wanted me to live with him. So I ah, came up here.\"\n\n\"When did you get married? When did you decided to get us?\" Liz's questions are pouring out one after another.\n\n\"No,\" my pop bellows out over her ramblings. \"No more tonight Liz. We need to go get dressed for the party. I wont be late to Dan's house. He wont let me hear the end of it.\"\n\n\"Papa,\" she whines and give a big pout.\n\n\"No come on. I will ah, tell you more later. Come on we got to go. Tim go get a button shirt and tie on.\" My pop pushes back from the table and moves around to clear up our coco mugs.\n\n\"It's formal?\" I whine.\n\n\"Formal?\" My pop scoffs at me. \"Tim, do you even know what formal is?\" He chides me. \"A shirt and tie is semi. I bet people wonder how I raised you.\" He shakes his head as he turns and goes to the sink.\n\nBefore I can move my sister is leaping over the chair and rushing up the stairs to the bathroom. \"Oh come on!\" I shout jumping up at after her.\n\n\"Ha! I get it first,\" she sings up the stairs. Even though I take two at a time she manages to beat me into the one bathroom. I began to pound on the door and I can hear her singing a ridiculous conglomeration of songs trying to drowned out my shouting and banging.\n\n\"Fine. Brat,\" I shout before jogging back down the stairs. I stop when I see my pop organizing the line of photos along the breakfast counter.\n\nHis sighs and singular chuckle says it all as he picks up and sets down the last picture of us four together. He really loved my pop Mark. ",
"<Sorry about the length and I am not quite sure if I have the formatting appropriate for narration but here is my first free writing attempt in over five years>\n\nTrevor went to go stomping out of the room like he always did when he came back home from his mother’s house and threw down an argument.\n \n“I don’t understand why you don’t just go back to mom, why are you even with Kurt its not like you were gay before you met him, really this is our family” he yelled at the top of his lungs, “where exactly does that man fit in to our lives anyway, he has no place and no right.”\n\nSomething finally snapped inside of Jason. He looked in the mirror and he saw nothing of the man that Kurt had saved thirteen years ago. Trevor was only 2 then too young to understand why mommy and daddy couldn’t be around each other. As Jason continued to look, Trevor ran upstairs to his room. His feet giving away his frustration with every loud thud up the winding wrought metal staircase. Jason, still looking in the mirror, saw the determination wash across the close cropped red headed man staring back at him. His ice blue eyes glowed of determination that today he was going to finally have the courage to set the story straight. The scruff of his 3 day beard seemed to stand on end as his squared jaw bit down in an effort to draw courage from the force of the teeth gnashing together.\n\nKurt was still out of the country for a few days, so thankfully he didn’t have to hear the things that Trevor had said. Although his job required him to have a tough exterior, Kurt was anything but when it came to Trevor. He had always treated Trevor like his own and would have been heart-broken to hear such things and not understood where they came from. Jason and Kurt had always wanted to discuss the story when they were both here. It seemed that it couldn’t wait.\n\nJason climbed up the same stairs his son had just stomped up a few minutes ago. With each step he grasped the cold hard steel railing gaining composure with each step forward. This was a hard story to tell. In truth, before Kurt, he would have never thought of himself as gay, and if something were to ever happen to his husband, he wasn’t sure he would be again.\n\n“Trevor, its dad, can we talk for a few minutes, I really would like to talk to you about some things that you don’t understand.” Jason’s voice boomed through the door with the voice that only years of command could have taught.\nJason could hear him bouncing his tennis ball against his bedroom wall in agitation. Clearly something had happened while visiting his mother that had him all upset. “Why dad, are you going to try to explain to me again how some people just like certain people and that’s that? We have had that conversation before and it didn’t really do much for me then either.” \n\n“No Trevor, this time I have something to tell you that I haven’t told you before. Something that I have been afraid of telling you for a long time because I was afraid you would think even worse of your mother and I” Jason said through the door. “I’m coming in.\n\nAs he walked into his son’s room and took a seat on the overstuffed, cow decorated bean bag, he looked around the room. Hockey trophies and Red Wings paraphernalia decorated the white room with red trim. Trevor was fanatic about hockey. This had been Kurt’s doing, Kurt was a Red Wings fan. He never missed a game when he was in country and he had been taking Trevor with him since they had been together. As much as his son didn’t claim to like his husband, Kurt’s influence was all over the room.\n\n“Trevor, I have told you that Kurt and I were best friends before your mother even met. We weren’t gay, we never even thought that way. In truth I loved your mother very much when I married her. What I am about to tell you, your mom doesn’t want to know for many reasons and I haven’t really been able to bring it up until now. Kurt wanted to be here when we told you the story but as you know he is still deployed for a few more days.\n"
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[WP] On a trip through a small town, you see a man with wings, horns, and red skin who claims to be the Devil.
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"As my senses soaked in the myriad of information available, my brain processed everything like a list. Splintered windshield. The smell of burnt rubber and alcohol. The boom and thud of hitting a living thing. The immediate shriek and deafening silence. The feel of the glass, sweat, tears and goosebumps across my skin. In an instant, the list was processed overloading my comprehension. A 12 year old girl, walking her dog late at night. A party that went on too long. A friend that saw someone too drunk to drive. I looked over my mind wandering, seeing red pouring down his face, conscious but barely. \"James! Are you alright? I think we hit someone!\" I paused looking for a response, but all I got was blank expression around red filled eyes. As the moment sank in for me and I started to feel my mind slip into the accident. James began to sit up, his head misshapen almost as if he had horns, and continues his blank stare directly at me. His eyes were asking questions I didn't have the answers for. I remember asking him, \"What did you do?\" Through the mirror he finally answered, \"Whatever you let me.\"",
"Take a drive someday, out towards the West somewhere, and find yourself with an empty gas tank. No need to look for it, it’ll find you - it seems nice enough - a little hamlet on the prairie, Sun Valley, population two hundred and one. By trade I’ve been a traveling salesman for twenty some-odd years now. Been to both coasts, seen the Gulf, battled flies in Maine. I’ve seen my fair share of things, but not this. Never this.\n\nIt was a clear day in a way that only a prairie day can be - the sun shone uncontested over the infinite grassy plain. There had been a rest stop miles back but for the first time in years I neglected to stop, to fill up. I just kept driving. The road called to me, stronger than it ever has, and I obeyed. Just as the fill light came on it appeared over a shallow rise - a wooden sign, looked brand new, “Welcome to Sun Valley, Neighbor! Why don’t you stay a while?”. Four lanes of empty highway merged to two, and a row of small, tidy homes and shops lined either side. A single-pump service station clung to the outskirts and I pulled in, running dry as I stopped at the pump.\n\nIt was an old-fashioned place, the kind where you’re supposed to drive over the air hose so the bell’ll ring. An older man came out of the small office, dressed in a bright white shirt and cap, to tell me that there wasn’t any gas after all, the truck hadn’t come through.\n\n“Why such a hurry anyway, son? Pleasant enough place, this.”\n\n“Not exactly my speed”. I grinned and hefted my case from the passenger seat, and a flicker of a smile passed over his beaming grin.\n\n“Traveling salesman, eh? Used to ply the great American highways myself, back in the day. And my wife, Lenore, she used to be an Avon lady, how about that?”\n\n“I suppose that’s something of a coincidence, isn’t it. Are you sure there’s no gas?”\n\n“Oh yes, afraid so. It’s been a good while since the last man came through, so we’ve never seen the need to stock up. Such a nice place, though”. His grin persisted.\n\n“For some people, maybe. Have you got a phone?”\n\n“Mayor’s got a phone”, he said, gesturing towards a lone pole. “Just follow the line, son.”\n\nThe line stretched towards a modest, columned building in the center of town. Passing shops and homes, I found the same grin on all faces - an earnest grin, but disconcerting. A polite grin.\n\n“Nice day here, isn’t it?”\n\n“Another salesman, now how about that?”\n\n“Why don’t you stay a while, son?”\n\nThe mayor’s office was in a small, whitewashed down-home courthouse that looked out on the rest of the town from its position on the lone street’s dead end. I found the main door unlocked and entered to an empty hall, save for a desk and a small black phone. Behind the desk, a large red-leather office chair faced a large window on the wall opposite the door.\n\n“It’s such a nice place, isn’t it?”\n\nI began to approach the desk. “I suppose so sir, for some people. May I use your phone?”\n\nThe man in the chair turned to face me. What had appeared red leather was a pair of bat’s wings that unfolded with a dramatic flair, and the Devil himself stared back at me from the comfort of a cool grey suit. For a moment he seemed taken aback, though he quickly composed himself.\n\n“I suppose you might, but it’s unnecessary. I’ve had Herb bring your car around - and had it filled, don’t worry.”\n\nI stood, frozen, midway from the door. “You’re…”\n\nHe smiled a toothy grin. The spaces between his teeth glowed, as though they were the grate of a furnace.\n\n“I have many names. Devil, perhaps. The Jews used to say Satan - I always preferred that. But I’m not here for you, son”. Satan took a small piece of paper from his breast pocket, along with a pair of half-moon glasses. “It says here one ‘John Cohen’ is supposed to come through today, a traveling vacuum-cleaner salesman. You’re not him, are you?”\n\n“No sir - I sell kitchen knives, have for three years now.”\n\n“So you have. You’d best be on your way then, you won’t want to be here when John is.”\n\nAt a loss for words, I turned to leave, but as I reached the door I turned again to speak. “This street is a dead end - how do I get to Salt Lake from here?”\n\nSatan again bore his furnace-grin. “Just go back the way you came, son. You’ll get there eventually.”\n\n“Thank you sir, I suppose I’ll be off then.”\n\n“It’s been a pleasure, Leonard.”\n\nI stepped back out of the courthouse to find my car waiting on the curb, the gas station attendant leaning cheerily on the hood. But as the courthouse door closed in my wake, I heard something I’ll never forget, as long as I live. It was only a whisper, nearly drowned by the squealing hinge, but I heard Satan speak it.\n\n*“See you soon.”*",
"\"So how about it kid? Do we have a deal?\"\nAsked the man, if you could call him that, with rich red-black skin. My body shook all over as my scattered thoughts tried to guide me toward the right answer. Though I'm not sure there was a right answer in a situation such as this. Inwardly I sighed at my predicament. Why couldn't I have just had a normal vacation. \n\nI saw him as I was walking the cobbled streets of a small town in Italy. Gorgeous buildings surrounded me on either side, bathed in bright warming sunlight. You could feel the age and strength in the run-down, but still magnificent and proud, houses and shops that lined the path. My feet tapped softly on the cobbles as I meandered past street performers and shoppers alike with a warm glow of contentment at where I was and my freedom from the mundane job that usually ruled my thoughts. At least the pay let me fulfil some of my dreams of travel. \n\nI rounded a corner and saw him. 6ft+ with red skin so dark it seemed to burn. On his head sat a curled pair of horns gleaming gently, despite his position in a dark corner of the street hidden from the sun streaming down. At first I thought nothing of it. Just another street performer plying his skills. A statue or juggler. Why this street I wasn't sure. It was deathly quiet along here and far colder and darker than it had a right to be with the sun right above. I shivered and something warned me to take care. A warning which came to late for me it would seem as the performer with the rather impressive looking outfit had seen me. He beckoned me closer with a grin and a wave. Against my better judgement I found myself walking up to him along the silent cobblestones. \n\nThere was no preamble. No pretence at normalcy by him. As I walked up his red grin widened and his sharp teeth gleamed brightly. \"I am the devil. Would you spare a few moments to talk to me?\" \nWell. What do you say to that. \n\"I can see that. It's a fantastic outfit. I'd be happy to see you perform.\"\nIf possible his almost-perfect grin widened further. \"Why certainly sir. But of course no performance comes without a fee! I'm sure you can understand. Even Lucifer has to eat my friend!\"\nMy heart started to thump a little louder. Something felt wrong. But I was curious. Aren't we always curious. Never satisfied with the insane amount of knowledge already available we always seek to know everything. \"Sure. That sounds fair enough. What'd you have in mind Mr fallen angel?\" My attempt at levity sounded strained even to me. However I saw his grin falter slightly and his skin seemed to swirl while the gleam from his horns dimmed slightly. But It was over in an instant. \n\n\"Well, as I am the devil it would seem only right to propose a trade. Your soul would be the obvious price don't you think? In the spirit of the outfit and all.\" \nHis grin was starting to spook me. But I had no belief in angels or devils. Nor in a creator. I just wanted to get away from this weirdo. I suppose I should play along and leave as soon as I could. He'd probably only want a few euro. \n\n\"So how about it kid? Do we have a deal?\"\n\"Yeah sure thing buddy. Let's see this show.\" \n\nOnce more his grin grew. And grew more into a cavernous howl as black wings burst from the performers back. A feather fell down scorching my hand as I yelled. The devils dark eyes stared into my mind as I stood there. Forced to watch the show I had paid such a high price for. \n",
"“You’re full of shit.”\n\nThe red man sat perched on the low brick wall surrounding the dive bar, arms crossed and a Virginia Slim in his mouth. He shot me a quick condescending glance.\n\n“Sure, kid. You asked though.”\n\nI pushed off of the light pole that I was leaning on and walked over to stand next to him. He smelled like an overcooked beef patty. The sun was setting behind the grassy hills far off to the west. \n\n“Okay, then riddle me this: what’s the devil doing in a small town like this? Aren’t you supposed to be doing all that important evil shit down below?”\n\nThe red man took a pull of his cigarette. He turned to me and blew the smoke in my face, grinning widely. \n\n“Day off. Beezlebub’s covering my shift.”\n\n“Shift? The f…you work in an office building or something? Come on, give me a break.”\n\n“I do, actually,” he replied. “I’ve turned into a bit of a workaholic lately, as I’m sure you can tell. Just felt like having a day where nobody bothers me.” With that, he shot me an insidious look. \n\n“…All right man, my bad,” I said, apologizing. “I don’t know. It’s just…well…I think my wife’s cheating on me with my father and I kind of wanted someone to talk to.”\n\nA knowing softness enveloped the red man’s face. He looked up at the darkening sky, exhaling smoke through his nose. He hopped up off of his seat, landing gracefully and with great flourish. His eyes met mine.\n\n“She is.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked, confused. \n\n\"Your wife. The affair began last Valentine’s day when you were hung over at your parents’ house. They had sex in the downstairs office while you were sleeping.”\n\n“What?” I demanded, shocked. “How did you…”\n\n“They’re currently at your apartment taking a shower. Your wife doesn’t expect you to be home until late, as you told her this morning you were working a double shift. Presumably so you could go drink without reproach.” His lips pursed sympathetically. \n\nI stood there in silent shock, knowing I had little to no reason to believe this man. But, somewhere in the depths of my consciousness, I knew he was not bullshitting. Before I had a chance to open my mouth to dispute his claim, he pulled off his beanie, revealing a pair of short but razor-sharp horns. \n\n“Yeah, kid. They’re real. I really am who I say I am.”\n\n“But…how…,” I tried to find a logical explanation for how he knew about my earlier lie to my wife. I gave up, sighing. “Jesus…”\n\n“Satan, actually. So, what say we head down to your apartment and get this all sorted out? You want to?”\n\nI stared at him, chuckling. I knew in my heart who he was and what would happen if I followed him back to my place. I didn’t care.\n\n“You’re God damn right,” I exclaimed, leading the way to my car.\n\nI had a feeling I was going to be seeing a whole lot more of this guy in the near future. \n",
"Something I've always told myself is, \"Seeing is Believing.\" Only at that moment, even though I saw him, I sure as hell didn't believe my eyes were being honest.\n\nI was never much of a religious person, although I have been to church throughout my life. It's just hard to think that there is a higher power in this world. Oh, sure the skepticism was always racing through my thoughts, but it wasn't until that moment when I thought of there being evil, as opposed to holy. \n\nIt was just shy of 2 months walking the Himalayan Trail in Nepal when I was making my way through Gun-sang, a small village a few miles off the course. Since the village only consisted of two lodges open to those trekking the mountains, I went to the second after finding the first was full. But I never did end up staying for the night. Not after I saw Him. \n\nAfter unpacking, I went around the lodge to relax. There was a great view from the top of the mountain, revealing a huge grassland below which was Southern Tibet. I was mesmerized by the beauty, but I noticed I wasn't the only one looking at the view.\n\nAlthough I am sure he never wanted to be seen, he wasn't sheepish after realizing my presence. Instead, he walked over and sat next to me. He wore a cloak with a hood, a thin rope holding it together at the waist. I wouldn't have thought much of this character it weren't for two horns erupting from his temples. Engravings seemed to have been carved into them, designs that looked familiar, yet very ancient. \n\n\"Do you know who I am?\" he asked. It was all he needed to say, although I didn't have an answer until he looked away from the landscape and into my eyes. Underneath his hood was a red face, but I can't say it was skin. It was as if his entire face was covered in burns and scars. His eyes were a rotten yellow, yet seemed full of life. Without much thought, one word escaped my mouth.\n\n\"Death.\"\n\nThe man smirked, and turned back toward the grasslands. \"Yes, I'm sure some would like to call me that, but death is only but a thing. Me? I am the Devil.\"\n\nEven though my brain did not accept the knowledge, my stomach sank nonetheless. I couldn't speak, my heart began to pound, and my ears started to ring. It was as if my body was shutting down.\n\nThe Devil turned back toward me, but instead of a menacing glance which I was expecting, he looked worried, if not concerned.\n\n\"You're not supposed to be here today,\" he declared. \"But I'm not sure if that can change now.\"\n\nI waited.\n\nHe stood up and let out a charred hand, which I accepted. When we were face to face, he continued. \"I'm sure you have heard your fair share of stories. What you must understand is that this isn't about good and evil. Nor right or wrong. It's about balance. The thing is, you're a variable. Whether you stay or go is no concern to me, for the outcome will not be unstable either way. Although it may be strange to hear, I have a heart. Bigger than you can imagine.\"\n\nHe untied the rope around his waist and let the cloak fall to the ground. Underneath was a large strap wrapped around his chest with a buckle. He unfastened it and bend over as he arched his back, releasing something I can only imagine were wings. Only they were not majestic or made of feathers, but instead frail; seemingly worn and made of a thin leather with rips and holes throughout. The edges were shredded, and with hard work restored by stitches and burns. \n\nI watched in disbelief as The Devil stretched his unused extensions, until he turned back for the last time.\n\n\"Call this a warning if you insist, but I favor the word guidance.\" He paused. \"Leave. Your time is running short, but if you head toward the fields, your fate might be in good hands.\"\n\nWith that, the mysterious figure shot into the sky, and I ran. Leaving everything important behind me, I ran down untouched jungle until it thinned out to brush. With the little energy I had left, I brought myself far enough to feel safe, and dropped to my knees, gasping for air. I felt that I had to rest before continuing, but when I turned around and saw the entirety of Nepal in flames, I knew I had to keep moving.",
"(Oh poo, I always see these things too late then I fear that nobody will ever read my stuff. :( Oh well, thanks for the fun prompt!)\n\nAnd there he stood with sweat on his brow, with dust on his hooves. I instantly felt that I knew him, like an acquaintance you pass every day but have never stopped them to ask how they’re doing. Well, today I stopped and asked if he needed a ride. \n\n“No, thank you. I’ll manage. I always do,” he said, turning to continue on along the barren stretch of road in the middle of where I can only surmise is named after some type of farm animal. \n\n“Please wait,” I sputtered, not knowing how to phrase what I was about to ask. \n\n“Yes,” he said, stopping. “I’m Him.” Now with his back to me, I could see the leathery wings flat against his jacket. I had mistaken them for a vest. His skin, from that angle I could finally see that his skin is not tanned but red. It was a deep red hue.\n\nI stood, not knowing what to say. Thankfully he filled the vacuum of silence for me. \n\n“It was kind of you to offer, but I’m quite alright.” That voice, I’ve heard it before. No- I’ve heard it nearly every day when I talked myself into the third cup of coffee I knew I shouldn’t have. It was the soothing sound of self-worth hidden in the moments I figured I would treat myself to something nice. \n\n“I can’t just leave you out here… it’s too hot. I have water in my truck.” That piqued his interest just as a bead of sweat fell from his nose onto his dry lips. \n\n“Alright, I’ll have some water. But then I really must be on my way.”\n\nHe drank deep from my canteen, but consumed only half of the contents, stating that he didn’t want me “dying of thirst.” We spoke for a while, long enough for the sun to delicately balance itself along the horizon. I wanted to ask him everything, all of the questions that had always danced along the edge of my mind in the shadows of doubt, but I didn’t. That would have been rude. Instead, we spoke about his day and where he was going, my day and where I was going. We laughed about politics and shared a moment of sympathy for recent tragedies. I broke a Twinkie in half and watched as he savored the sweet pastry. \n\nAt last, as the sun began its decent into darkness, he insisted that he had to go. I don’t know why, but I hugged him, long and strong. When I finally let him out of my embrace, he was smiling. I couldn't tell if it was a tear or sweat that rolled down his cheek, but he thanked me. \n\nI watched as his silhouette grew smaller as he walked slowly away. I climbed into my truck and started again toward home. I knew I would sleep well that night, but not before treating myself to another Twinkie. Something told me that I deserved it. ",
"The red man with the wings and the horns just walked right out into the middle of the street. \n\nTom's daughter Lindsey and his little boy, Jacob, were both in the backseat. Tom's foot hammered onto the brake pedal to prevent the car from plowing into the idiot.\n\n\"Kids, are you ok?!,\" Tom shouted into the mirror as he turned his head to look in the backseat.\n\n\"Yeah, Dad, we're ok - who is that guy?\" Lindsey said, pointing a finger toward the windshield.\n\n\"I'm about to find out. You kids stay right here.\", Tom's voice was still quivering a bit as he undid his seatbelt and stepped out of the station wagon.\n\n\"Jesus, we almost ran you over! Are you ok? Why did you walk out into the road? Why are you wearing that costume?\" The questions just erupted out of Tom's mouth.\n\n\"Costume?\", said the man in red, \"You dare malign me? Such insolence!\", he continued in a furious tone.\n\n\"Look, it's just that... we could have hit... you could have been seriously injured!\", Tom stumbled across his own words.\n\n\"Ha ha ha, injured? Me?,\" said the man in red, as if it was the most ludicrous thing that had ever been muttered. \"You know very well why I stepped into that road, Mr. Tom Hamilton.\"\n\n\"My, my name. How did you know...\", muttered Tom.\n\n\"You're the bassist for Aerosmith - everyone knows your name Tom Hamilton!\", said the man in red, his eyes glowing a blistery shade of yellow and gold. \n\n\"However, I know who you are much better than the average person does.\", he said.\n\n\"Oh, you do? Is it because you're a fan of the band? I'd be glad to sign an autograph, it's just that me and the kids are sort of late for a school recital - \", he was cut off by the red man with the wings and the horns.\n\n\"Silence! You know why I'm here - Tom Hamilton.\" said the furious man in red.\n\n\"You really don't have to keep calling me by my full name. You can just call me Tom if you like. I'm not that big on formalities really.\" said Tom Hamilton - bassist for Aerosmith.\n\n\"I will call you whatever I like - Tom Hamilton.\", he said, a wide toothy - or were they fangs? - grin stretched impossibly wide across his scorched face.\n\nThe man in red continued, \"I am here to collect, Mr. Tom Hamilton.\"\n\n\"Collect what? I don't have any memorabilia with me at the moment, but I'll be glad to send you a signed album or a t-shirt if you'll just give me your add-\", said Tom, but he was cut off again.\n\n\"Silence!\", shouted the man in red.\n\n\"You know that is really rude! You shouldn't cut people off like tha-\", Tom attempted an interjection.\n\n\"Silence I said! I've come to collect what is mine! When you were a young boy you made a deal. You said that you would give *anything* to be the bass player of a famous rock and roll band. I kept my part of the deal, now it is time for you to keep yours.\", said the man in red.\n\n\"Ok, just who are you exactly?\", said Tom, still struggling to understand the situation that has befallen him.\n\n\"Very well, you wish to make this difficult, than your wish will be fulfilled. I am the malevolent dictator of all that is unholy, the devourer of souls. I grant your greatest wishes, and bestow upon you your greatest fears.\" the man in red said as he did a slight flourish and spread his wings to the sky and shouted as the sun went black, \"I. Am. Satan!\" \n\n\"Satan?\", asked Tom, with the most curious of faces. \"You're telling me, Tom Hamilton - bassist for Aerosmith - that you are Satan? The Devil himself? And that you have come to take my soul?\"\n\n\"Yes! Finally, we are making some progress here.\" said the man in red as he took a big reassured breath.\n\nTom stood still for a moment, then dropped some words that took the breath back out of the man in red.\n\n\"That can't be.\", said Tom.\n\n\"And why the hell not?\", said the man in red, tossing his hands into the air as his wings folded back down to earth.\n\n\"Because *I* am the Devil.\" stated Tom matter-of-factly.\n\nBy now, a large crowd of over six hundred people had gathered around. Why? Because it's Tom Hamilton - come on people, get with the program!\n\nWhen the police heard that Tom Hamilton - famed bassist for Aerosmith - was standing on the side of the road arguing with some weirdo in a red suit, they blocked off the city streets to prevent any more people from coming in. They didn't want a riot to break out like last time when famed Van Halen bassist, Michael Anthony had a flat tire over on Morgan Street and nearly four-hundred rowdy fans showed up to offer him a hand. \n\n\"*You're* the Devil?\", scoffed the man in red, \"who would believe such a ridiculous thing? I'm obviously the Devil. I mean, come on, look at these horns and these wings. And you're as pale as a baby! The devil would at least have a dark complexion.\"\n\nTom stood his ground calmly, \"Do you really think that the *real* Devil would just prance around on city streets with his red wings, and horns and trident? Wouldn't the *real* Satan wish to keep a little anonymity whilst he goes about his work? I mean, if I was Satan - which I am - than I would tone it down a bit. I'd have a laid back, easy-going personality, long blonde hair, light skin, and I'd play bass for a rock band.\"\n\nA couple of the on-lookers could be overheard saying, \"Yeah, that makes sense to me. That's what I'd do if I was the Devil.\"\n\nAn older gentleman with a cane stepped forward and said, \"Since you both claim to be the Devil there is only one way to solve this. You must answer a question that only the Devil would know the answer to.\"\n\n\"Alright than,\" said the man in red, \"that seems to be a good solution. You think you're soooo smart Mr. Tom Hamilton. Let us see how you deal with this!\"\n\n\"Very well. If you are both in agreement, than I will ask the question.\" said the old man.\n\nA hush fell over the crowd as they leaned in to hear what will be asked of the two devils.\n\n\"The question is:\" continued the old man, \"Does the Devil prefer tacos over pizza, or vice-versa?\"\n\n\"Simple.\" said a stoic Tom Hamilton without a moments hesitation, \"I prefer tacos.\"\n\nThe crowd erupted with cheering. Some even threw confetti and blew the foil horns that you find on New Year's Eve.\n\n\"Now just a minute!\", said the man in red, his face contorted into angry, frustrated lines, \"How is anyone going to know the answer to a question like that?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the old man, \"the Devil would know.\"\n\nYeahs. Yeses. That's rights. And every combination of them could be heard humming through the crowd.\n\n\"Very well then, Tom Hamilton. You may have won this round, but-\" this time Tom did the interrupting.\n\n\"Listen, I know this was a bit embarrassing. Come on, let me make it up to you. Come with us to Lindsey's piano recital.\" said Tom.\n\n\"Oh, I don't know. I don't want to be a pest.\" the man in red lowered his head and his giant horns dipped low toward the ground as they knocked a branch off a nearby tree.\n\n\"You're no pest.\" said Tom Hamilton as he put an arm around his new friend. \n\n\"*We'll get tacos afterward*\", said Tom in a singsong voice.\n\n\"Well,\" said the man in red, cheering up as the sun came through the blackened sky, \"I do like tacos.\"\n\nAnd with that, the station wagon drove off into the sunset with two horns poking through the sunroof.\n\n_____________\nedit: formatting \n",
"In a town just shy of 3,000 people, nothing special ever happens. That is, until yesterday. Yesterday, as I was walking down the main drag, past Old Man Franklin's Diner, there was a man inside, one I had never seen before. When you live in such a small town, everyone knows everyone. It's actually really nice. But when someone new comes along, it can cause quite a stir. I looked in, and there was this man, with wings, horns, and blood-red skin. I was intrigued and went inside to talk with him. \n\nI sat across from him in the booth. Immediately, he looked up. I heard a voice, but I didn't see his mouth move. It sounded more like an orchestra of voices, but haunting. \"Who are you? How are you seeing me?\" he inquired. \n\n\"I'm Mark. I live on Cherry Lane, a few blocks away from here,\" I replied, \"so who are you?\"\n\n\"Mark? Nope, not who I'm looking for. Not on my list. How are you seeing me?\"\n\n\"What do you mean, how am I seeing you? You are sitting here, and I saw you through the window.\"\n\n\"So why are you talking to me? Don't you fear me?\"\n\n\"A little. You're worrying me a bit. I'm going to go.\"\n\n\"NO!\" the voice roared in my head. \"You will not leave. If you didn't know yet, I am the devil. You have seen me, and I cannot afford to let my image slip again. I've been slacking lately. I think it's time you die. Here, drink this.\" And on the table, a bottle of wine materialized. \n\n\"I'm 17. You can't expect me to drink that.\" \n\n\"I can kill you in other ways, if you would perfer. I was supposed to be here for a 'Mr. Franklin' anyways.\"\n\n\"No. Not Mr. Franklin. He's the kindest old man. Prove to me you're the devil, and I will drink that whole bottle.\"\n\n\"Alright,\" the voice replied, nonchalantly. \"See that building over there?\"\n\n\"Yes. What about it?\"\n\nIt exploded as soon as the last word escaped my lips. The devil then picked up the bottle of wine and brought me to the nearest car. \n\n\"Have fun,\" the voice rang in my head, as he strolled back inside. "
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Write about anything--their moment of realization, their reflections, what they do in the aftermath, what they think about 10 years in the future after the cult is long gone, etc. Completely up to you!
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[WP] A cult leader realizes she/he is wrong about everything.
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[
"I threw the book down and threw up.\n\nThey say realization hits you like a ton of bricks, but for me it was like a white-hot ingot had been seared into my head. Never in my most liberal dreams would I have envisioned a physical reaction. Nothing could have prepared me. I stood there, blinking like a stupid child in the glaring whiteness of my own mind, when suddenly came the weakened knees... the sudden loss of feeling throughout my limbs... the violent heaving as I gasped for air, as though my life were being forced out of me. I collapsed to the floor, clutching my wildly beating heart. I lay there, cheek pressed into the pile of freshly-spilled vomit, staring blankly at the book where it lay, opened and face down a few feet from my head. \n\nI don't know how long I lay there, shivering, as my mind raced. At first all I could contemplate were the words that had etched themselves into my mind. I tried in vain to find a hole; a crack in the knowledge I had just now, finally, after decades of ignorance, fully grasped. Piece by piece I pulled it apart searching for a lie or an inconsistency. But there were none to be had. Only truth, which I had so arrogantly been claiming I alone had to anyone who made the mistake of standing near me for longer than five seconds.\n\nAnd then came the shame, hot and heavy, pouring out of my eyes and mixing with the pool of sick that I still lay in. Realization not of the truth but of my actions hit me like a second piece of searing metal. All of the lives, all of the misery, all of the pain that I had caused. Me, because of my hubris and idiocy. Me, because of my pride and ignorance. Little Laurie... would she still be alive? Would the Peersons have stayed together? Would the Carson girl have kept her scholarship and stayed out of prison? Would my son still be speaking to me? Would I have been a good man?\n\nNo answers came to me. Only one resounding thought echoed in my brain until I finally passed out from exhaustion and shame. *I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry... I was wrong.*",
"“My Children, please…” I began. But I was drowned out, ignored. Forty-eight years, for nothing.\n\nIt was my decision that had done it. But I saw no other way. Thomas had been with me the longest, but he was a devotee, not a leader. Emma was wise, but lacked a blooming of genuine compassion. Jeremy was kind, but not skillful. And on and on. And now with all this infighting… no one individual was prepared to lead the community, at least I knew I was right about that.\n\n“Michael has been having an affair with Laura Donaldson for nearly a decade! And you want him to be our next Teacher!”\n\nForty-eight years. The temerity of it, really. To think I was the one chosen to teach the unteachable. To express the inexpressible. The audacity to think I could convey that ineffable truth. And most of all, the naivety, to think that what I was saying was penetrating.\n\n“You want Alejandro to lead? He has no true understanding, even a pure novice could see that!”\n\nThe voices rose and rose and I waited for a lull that never came. I signaled I had heard enough, raising my arms, palms outward and waited for the hush. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. Nothing. The fighting continued. Intensified even. I spoke again, beseeching them “Enough, children…” But my once booming voice had grown coarse and weak. 15 seconds. 20. Palms still outstretched. 25 seconds. My commanding pose becoming a plea. 30 seconds. Please. 35.\n\nSlowly, I lowered my hands. 48 years, for this. \n\nI turned and shuffled towards the back corner of the temple – my temple – the temple I had built both in toil and spirit. At the door I turned and looked back at my now-empty cushion, to see one follower lunge at another.\n\nThe door shut slowly behind me, muffling the shouts and accusations inside. There was no other sound, only silence. I walked down to the stream and wept.\n"
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What is the one phrase that would push someone - a functional and solid member of society - from the parapets of sanity, and into the dark pits of madness? Is it some news about their health? Perhaps a call from the police? Is it something their child says? Or perhaps, it's what is never said. The possibilities are endless, but let's see where this goes. As a side note, I would love to see this demonstrated in some sort of poetry, but I'm also open to short story. If you do go this route, try to keep it less than, or up to ~500 words.
Happy creating!
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[WP] It has often been said that we are all one sentence away from insanity...
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[
"It was completely on a whim that I went into the fair. It was a deviation from my usual routine: wake up alone, go to work alone, come home and eat frozen pizza. The shabbily dressed fortune teller in the dim, dusty tent turned over a card and told me, \"No one can judge your deeds in this life, no matter how terrible they are.\" I thought of my son's mother. Of my boss. Of my gum-snapping cubicle-mate.\n\nI imagined a lifetime of freedom. To choose my path, to rid myself of the obstacles between me and a happy, peaceful life.\n\nI took the card with me, as a memento of that instant where the world opened up at last.",
"\"What are you, but skin, blood and bones? Thoughts, feelings and emotions all tied up in a gooey, nature freindly disposable package. What makes you better than me? Different? You defend this city. They worship you. I prune this city and THEY HATE ME!\"\n\n\"Why do I kill? Why do I maim, torture and use my cell phone in theaters?! That's an easy answer.\"\n\n\"We are alone.\"\n\n\"Utterly and terribly and wonderfully alone. Sure we say we have family, have friends and lovers, but what use are they when your drowning in an ocean? Maybe as rafts, until the sharks start circling. Then that's it! Bye bye. You're kaput and everyone forgets about you after a year. YOU DIE AND THERE IS NOTHING LEFT!\"\n\n\"I kill them to put them out of their misery. Sure they may beg for mercy, but I grant them the kindest mercy. The utter release from the fact that *we are alone.* \"\n\n\"But people like you and me, we put a mark on this world. No one will forget us.\"\n\n\"And I know you'll always be there for me, two peas in a pod you and me! Two bats in the belfry!\"\n\n\"As long as one of us is alive, we'll never be alone. HAHAHAHAHA\"",
"\"In all your life, your deathbed will be the one place where you'll truly be alone.\"\n\n*Really, this is a corollary to perhaps the most poignant quote from Firefly, spoken by Mal: \"Everybody dies alone.\" It's so antithetical to our beliefs and impulses, and to our quintessential primate instincts. Ponder it too long and the absurdity of human life becomes too much.*",
"I used to be a normal man, the unassuming kind,\n\nA guy that oft’ kept to himself within his simple mind.\n\nUntil the day I met that girl, down by the riverside;\n\nShe opened up her heart to me, and soon became my bride.\n\nOur wedding night was wonderful, no other night compares,\n\nAnd after all the guests had left, I whisked her up the stairs.\n\nBut something was amiss that night. I’d had far too much wine\n\nTo carry her successfully; the fall shattered her spine.\n\n------\n\nAnd in that moment, as I watched her slowly slip from life,\n\nMy muddled mind became unglued: I’d have another wife.\n\nThat night must now be ten years back. I’ve since corralled eighteen,\n\nEach one a blushing beauty, each a token for my queen.\n\nThe garden that I made for her, our solemn lover’s pledge;\n\nIts fertile soil given life by more than water’s edge.\n\nBut all that’s far behind me now, the water and the wives,\n\nThe garden that I built my love will bury no more lives.\n\n------\n\nAnd so I sit here telling you, my wrists wrapped up in chains,\n\nThe story of my awful life; not one good thing remains.\n\nI left behind that normal man when I came here to rot;\n\nSo don’t you say, “I’m sorry,” ‘cause, deep down, I know I’m not.",
"As I crawled from the flaming wreckage, I could smell the burning flesh of my wife and children, and see their mangled remains. Once extricated, I dragged my shattered body towards the other car, which had upended in the roadside ditch. Its driver came bounding toward me, unharmed and unaffected. The reek of booze overpowered even the smell of burning. \"Hey man,\" he said, \"*Know where I can get a drink around here?*\"",
"I remember it quite clearly you know. As the bills started to stack up, and the hours got cut, and the world laughed at me something magical began. I laughed back. Suddenly everything made sense with the simple realization that there is no right and wrong. *There's only what you're capable of getting away with.*"
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[WP] a nice! normal person dies and becomes a ghost and tries to start a relationship with the current inhabitant of his/her old home.
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"It was a bitter winter year. The textile factory was closed temporarily while undergoing repairs. To make matters worse the heating at the factory owned apartments was non existent. Damian was fed up with his living situation.\n\nDamian hurried to the central district. Damian found the town bulletin board. Roommate wanted. Most ads were beyond his reach, one in particular grabbed his attention. Roommate Wanted. Must be able to care for elderly in exchange for rent. Damian gave it no second thought. He had taken care of his dying parents as a child and knew the difficulties he would be facing. With no avail, Damian ripped the page out of the bulletin board and hurried to 1136 Post Oak Rd. It was nighttime when he arrived, a quick knock on the door and no answer. He waited a few minutes before knocking again. No answer. Damian contemplated for a while, when finally it hit him. The elderly person must be unable to get to the door. Damian turned the nob, waved the flyer like a peace flag, and walked inside. Walking around the home Damian was somewhat relieved that the lights were on. Someone must be around here somewhere. Traversing the home, he had no luck finding anyone else. Damian decided to wait in the living room. Damian fell fast asleep. It was dusk when he woke, his internal clock never wrong. Nevertheless, no one was around. Damian spoke out to the house, thinking the owner was hidden away scared of the intruder in the house. \"Excuse me, if anyone is here. I would like to say that I am friendly, loyal and a hard worker. No need to be alarmed. I am just looking for a spot to sleep and a friend.\" A few seconds passed, silence. \"A friend you said?\" Looking around Damian found the source of the murmur in the kitchen. What he expected was a daughter or sister in the area. What he saw was beyond comprehension. A translucent figure was hovering over the stove moving a metal utensil around a cooking pot. The figure was a tall women of about 6 feet wearing a long silk like dress. Her hair was as bright as the welding sparks he has seen at the factory. For a second it crossed Damian's mind that he was daydreaming at the factory, something that happened often. The voice called out: \"Friends are there when you need them most. If you are truly a friend then have a seat, breakfast is almost ready.\" Stunned as he was, he managed to take a seat. \"What..\" The voice interrupted \"What am I? I ask myself this everyday.\" ....",
"\"Hey! Hey, wait a minute, listen!\" I darted in front of Gina as she strode through the hallway. No luck. She passed right through me and didn't even notice. She seemed to be on her way to the shower. It was tempting to follow her. It's been lonely these last several weeks. I began to drift after her down the hallway, then froze in defiance of myself. I was still determined to get to know her. She was living in my old house, which meant she must have good taste, and there was no way I could ever stop being awkward after spying on her like that. Not to mention I'd feel terrible.\n\nStill, even as I talked myself down I floated idly toward the bath, until I noticed her cat Simon out of the corner of my eye. He'd been watching me carefully the entire time. I swiveled under the hallway arch toward the living room couch. He kept his eyes firmly planted on me, and began to scuttle back into a crevice of the couch. I reflected briefly on the couch again. It said something about the owner that she had no qualms not only buying a murder house, but keeping the victim's old furniture. Perhaps what it said wasn't good, but I was glad for the familiar surroundings....\n\nOh dear, I thought. Simon left while I was distracted. I took a scan of the room and noticed him wandering down the far hall, past the kitchen. Probably to the cat door outside. I quickly flew after him, and floated above, not taking any particular note of the set of dirty clothes on the floor. He seemed horrified by my presence over his back, so I floated in front of him and gathered myself into a kneeling position before him, holding out my ghostly hand. He did not move, but blinked slowly. Huh, that was easier than I thought. If I remember my reading right that means the cat trusts you. I reached out my hand and touched his head to pet it. Suddenly my mind lit up like fire and Simon's eyes went wide and then... black.\n\nWhen I awoke, my front-left paw felt quite uncomfortable. I lifted it to my face to lick it. Wait, what the hell?! I sighed mentally as the pieces fell together. My new feline form shrank back to the cold tile floor as I exhaled. At least I could touch things again. I rubbed my face against the floor a moment. It felt lovely and smooth. Then I took another look around. I realized the bathroom was just ahead as I heard the shower turn off. I laid down and closed my eyes tightly, hearing footsteps down the hallway.\n\n\"Aw, Simon,\" Gina cooed, \"were you waiting for me?\" I could feel my cheeks blush as I heard her voice draw nearer. I imagined she was kneeling in front of me in much the same posture as I had done to Simon a moment earlier. But I could not open my eyes. She couldn't possibly be decent. She'd never worn clothes out of the shower before. I'd almost seen her nude around the house a number of times. It really made the whole getting-to-know-you quest awkward.\n\nSuddenly my thought process was interrupted by a gentle hand upon my head. It was soft and smooth and sweet. I rubbed my cheek against it and purred. Gah! This catliness was messing with my mind.\n\n----------\n\nJust realized how obscenely late it is. If OP or anyone is still interested just gimme a reply or PM and I'll finish this up tomorrow. No worries, I've no plans for indecent content. Just awkward silliness.",
"This is the third note this week. They're just harmless flirting, I would normally shrug them off, but I keep finding them *inside* my house. I find them even when nobody has been around. \"I think it's time to call the police,\" I mumbled to myself.\n\n\"Please don't,\" I heard from nowhere in particular. \"I meant no harm by it.\"\n\nI couldn't see the person talking, but for some reason I felt at ease. \"Who are you,\" I asked, \"and what are you doing in my home?\"\n\n\"This used to be *my* home,\" he replied, \"before the accident... Now it's my prison. There have been seven families come and go. Four women in total, but none as beautiful as you.\"\n\nI didn't know what to say.\n\n\"You're the first person I have revealed myself to. Please... Say something...\"\n\n\"How... How did you die?\" It's all I could think to say.\n\n\"Come down to the basement\", he said in an excited tone. \"I will show you.\"\n\nI hesitated for a second, but eventually head for the basement door. Who knows what is down there, I hadn't lived here long enough to fully explored. The door opens with a jaw-clenching creek, and I step inside.\n\nI was on step number three, reaching for the light switch, when I felt a stiff shove from behind.\n\nI fell.\n\nI used the banister to pull myself up, surprised that I was unscathed after a tumble like that. \"Do you think you're being funny?\", I asked.\n\n\"No...\", he said timidly. \"I just didn't want you to leave me.\" \n\nI felt sorry for him, but not enough to overcome my anger. \"Well, it didn't work. I want you to leave this house. Either you leave or I will...\" I turned back towards the staircase.\n\nThat's when I see it. Something slumped next to the staircase. Could it be him? A few steps in that direction told me I was wrong.\n\n\"Is that me?\", I asked.\n\n\"Yes\", he whispered. \"I told you, I didn't want you to leave me.\"\n\nI felt his hand slip into mine, \"I had to do it....\"\n\nEdit: Some critiques would be nice. I'm trying this stuff out to improve my writing.",
"I hated lilies, I really did. It wasn't just the shape or the sight, but the sight that always drove me wild with angst. \n\nBut she insisted on putting them everywhere. On the window-sills, by the bed, and especially next to her daughter's crib at night, while she gave her her favorite doll, a stuffed penguin, so that she could sleep easier. She would even put them in her hair, which was light brown with faint streaks of blonde. And she always kept them outside the door of the second bedroom of the two-bedroom apartment, even though she never went inside that one. \n\nHer face seemed familiar, but then I couldn't tell. They said (we said?) that once you pass through the worlds, you couldn't really stay to chat. It was only proper, they said, to, to move on, and let go of all the memories that you had from your previous life. \n\nBut I, I was stuck. And so I was an *abnormality*, caught between two eras. So that was why I could remember, if only a little. Flashes of memory and understanding that merged automatically with my thoughts. I could recall a fair, chubby girl laughing and playing with me (I supposed that was from my youth), and most of all earth, lots and lots of earth, surrounding me from all sides, immersing myself in it, until I finally had an everlasting feeling of oneness that I hadn't felt my entire life.\n\nPerhaps that was why I was drawn to her, the girl, now lady, with her lilies and her dresses and her hair. Maybe she was someone I had known? \n\nBut in all my thinking, I had forgotten about reality. Time moved fast, it seemed, for now the daughter was all grown up. The woman was now older, dignified, but clearly still had that aura around her, the feeling that had drawn me to her so intensely. Her smile was still there, and the twinkle in her eyes, but for how long? \n\nI blinked and she was lying on her bed, old and frail, and could feel my heart pound hard, despite the irony of it. She was at the edge, and with her last breath, I could hear her mutter something. And all of a sudden, I started to remember. Flashes, images, hundreds of thousands, all pouring in. And she whispered a name, starting with 'R'.\n\nAnd then I blinked again, and then all at once, it was too late. She was gone, and I knew instinctively that she had passed on to the next world. Only I remained. \n\nI sighed. Another opportunity missed. I was a typical homo-sapien, whatever that meant. The daughter had moved out now, and had started a family of her own. Oh well. \n\nOf course, in retrospect, I could say that I hadn't gone through with it because our meeting just wouldn't have been right. Our eras were like those of the dinosaurs: though they seemed similar, they were really, really far apart. \n\nAs I thought this, my memories aligned, automatically re-adjusting until I had a lot, but not everything. And I had the niggling feeling that something was missing.\n\nI wondered about her death, how had it happened, and I couldn't help but compare it with my own. At least she had gone calmly, whereas me? I got hit by a blimp. Not so normal, even though I was a 'normal' guy. I mean sure, I liked dinosaurs a bit much (and geology rocks!), and maybe I would use too much hair gel, but really, there couldn't have been anything *that* wrong with.....\n\n\nAnd then, suddenly, I remembered everything. "
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Let The Cold be whoever you want it to be. An ex, themselves, winter in a human-body, have fun with it.
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[WP] A man and The Cold having an argument.
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"Gerald's shower was shorter than usual that morning. His eyelids were like a Chinese finger trap when he came to. The amount of exhaust coming from his mouth in the minus-forty chill was not unlike a college student's bong hit. David Naylor of Dunsberry AM would later compare the day's weather to a hag's breast. \n\"Old Man Winter, why you curse me so?\" Gerald said. \nThere was no reply. The squall had blown half his bathroom across town. Gerald was muddled. He held on to the remaining pipe sticking out of his overturned bathtub. The sweat between his buttocks had began to congeal. ",
"Gary keeled over into bed. His girlfriend had recommended he sleep his cold off, and it seemed better than trying to study by writing in snot. With the last of his strength, he folded the pillow, and rotated into a woolen cocoon, falling asleep almost instantly as the lowering sun highlighted his hair.\n\n\nHe awoke, standing up, to a black sky. Surrounding him were various hills, most ending in a short curve with a monochromatic green colour. Just ahead of him, Gary caught sight of a wavy light. His curiousity heightened, he made his way towards it, using his arm as a visor as the light intensified. Soon, he was right beside a lime-coloured blob floating in the air.\n\n\nIt turned around, it's empty looking eyes staring at his form. The light dimmed, and Gary could see the blob in all it's nonglory. It's mouth sagged near the bottom of it's gelatinous body.\n\n\n\"What are you?\" Gary asked.\n\n\n\"iiiiiiiiiiiiiiI AMmmm THEeee COLDdddd\" It replied, it's voice echoing periodically during syllables.\n\n\nGary stared at The Cold. He had imagined facing his diseases as a physical being and verbally garroting them, but The Cold's appearance had erased all notions of abuse out the window.\n\n\n\"WHENennnnnnnn yyyyyyyYOU aaaaaaaaAWAKE YOU WILL ssssSNEEeeeeZE. iiiiI WILL DIEeeeeee.\"\n\n\nUpon hearing this, Gary regained his senses.\n\n\n\"Y-yeah? Good! I fucking hate you! Your stupid ass is making me go to sleep instead of doing something useful! I have Finals, and you're having me do this instead!\"\n\n\n\"BUTbutbuuuuuuuu YOU sssssSEEM MORE INTERESTEDddd IN hhhhhhhhhhHANGING OUT ^with HERrrrrrrr\"\n\n\"....What? I can't spend time with my girlfriend? Do you even have any experience with a girlfriend? ....What the fuck, you're a goddamn slime, you can't have a girlfriend!\"\n\n\n\"iiiiiiiiiI HAVE NO NEED, I AMmmmm BACTERIAaaaaaaaaaaa\"\n\n\n\"Exactly, you literally have no authority on the subject!\"\n\n\n\"llllllllllooklooloolLOOK, I AM hhhhhhhhhHERE TO ISSUE YOU WITH A WAKEUPCALLWAKEUPCALLWAWAWAW^wake up call.\"\n\n\nGary's anger subsided temporarily, he wanted to hear this wake up call.\n\n\n\"...dddddDESPITE ANY NOTIONtiontions ABOUT HOW USEFUL yyyyyyyoYOUR EDUCATION^EDUCATION^^EDUCATION IS, yyyYOU MUST REMEMBER THAT HARD wwwwwwwWORK IS ALWAYS WARRANTEeeeeeeeeeeD. tttttttttttttttTHIS IS a wake up **CALL**\"\n\n\nAnd with a scream, Gary was jolted awake. After the shock wore off, he sneezed, and reached for a tissue as he thought about the events that just transpired. As he began blowing his nose, he noticed that there was no mucus on the paper, and that there was no mucus in his nose. He held the tissue tightly as his girlfriend came in.\n\n\n\"You feeling better?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, actually. I think my cold's gone.\"\n\n\n\"Oh, good! Wanna go for a movie?\"\n\n\nGary was about to say yes, but he relented. The Cold had sacrificed himself, and it was not for naught.\n\n\n\"Sorry, I can't. I have some studying to do tonight.\"",
"Garret lay in bed. It was 3pm, and it was still too cold to get up.\n\n\"Bleh. This is the warmest it's going to be isn't it?\"\n\nNo one answered.\n\nAs Garret shifted in his bed he noticed the winter sun through the blinds, it was already too low in the sky. The day was gone.\n\nHe did have it in him to brave the cold. It was still early in the season and he's lived through it before. No, there was another reason he didn't want to leave his bed.\n\n*choo!*\n\nAn arm reached out from under the covers and pulled a tissue from the nightstand. A crumbled tissue emerged and fell to the floor. A cold couldn't take down Garret; he was always sick. No, there was another reason he didn't want to leave his bed.\n\n\"I hate my life.\"\n\nYes. Garret's Cold was seasonal affective disorder.",
"Garey shivered in his apartment that night. He believed in the power of blankets and was attempting to suffer out the winter as best he could without turning on his heater in hopes of saving money on utilities. He sipped from a cup of hot tea as the chill seeping in from outside kept him awake. He set the cup down on the coffee table in front of him and pulled his knees up into the blanket-nest he had made on his couch. His phone vibrated on the table and he picked it up. Quickly checking it he put it down with out much thought.\n\nHe shook himself out of his blankets and slowly donned his coat, gloves, hat and boots. Ignoring the light switches he stumbled a bit through his apartment with an arm outstretched like a blind man's cane. At the back door moon light broke through the slats in the blinds covering the window on the back door. He pulled open the door and walked out onto the deck adjoining his apartment. With a tug on the door as he exited, it shut loudly interrupting the odd quiet of the city. Crunching through the snow on his deck with each step he walked over to the railing. Brushing snow off to show bare wood he leaned on the railing and hunched his shoulders to situate his coat a little more warmly on his shoulders. The moon was full and aside from a glow coming up from the city the sky was opaque and black.\n\nHis brow furrowed as he muttered, \"You should leave, you know. Nobody actually enjoys that you're here.\" \nA bit of white puffed off the railing, \"No, I would say you're wrong.\" The Cold murmured. \n\"How could you possibly know. Have you seen how happy people are in the summer? People smile and sit in the shade of trees and stuff. You aren't even here at those times.\" Garey shot back. \nThe Cold rested firmly on Garey's shoulders and forced them to relax, \"Nobody leaves when I come around.\" \nGarey threw his arms in the air throwing the Cold off, \"People leave every time! They leave specifically, because they would much rather be somewhere warmer. Somewhere where the weather is more welcoming than the bitterness of you!\" \nWind sighed through Garey's coat, causing him to stuff his hands in his pockets, \"Yes, but many more stay.\" \n\"They stay, because they have to. They can't afford a vacation or they can't get time off. Every single one of them would still much rather leave.\" He accused. \n\"No. They stay to be with the people they care about. The ones who cannot leave.\" \n\nGarey slumped into one of his deck chairs, not bothering to brush any of the snow off. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and read through the message this time. It was from his brother pleading with him. Telling him that the family wanted him to come back and see his mother. His brother was offering to buy him a plane ticket. Garey deleted the message like the previous ones his brother had sent. All of them basically the same message, except getting fewer in frequency as the 25th drew closer. With only a couple days to go, Garey figured this would be the last one.\n\nA few lone snowflakes floated down onto the hand that held his phone, \"You can leave if you'd like. I won't follow you for some time.\" \n\"Whether you're here or not, you'll always be following me.\" Garey whispered. \n\nThere was no response from the Cold. Garey heaved himself up out of the chair and brushed snow from his pants. Hunching his shoulders up he walked back into the dark of his apartment. The door closed quietly and left nothing for the Cold to say."
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[WP]There is a painted over door in the basement. It leads to a walkway suspended over a giant vat of pure, churning, liquid Evil. You feel compelled to dip something in.
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"\"Dammit! I've got to know what's behind that door!\"\nI sprang up and out of bed, having let the intrigue of the door rack my brain for the past hour. I was a ninja traversing my way to the basement, refraining from alerting who, I don't know, considering it was just me in my newly purchased home. I descending the staircase, laughing at the creeks of the wooden steps, considering how cliché the circumstance was. I flicked the lights on in the basement and approached the poorly disguised door. It was incredibly old, wooden, and unlocked. I gently pushed it open, revealing a gloriously interesting sight: a pool of the most fiery molten lava the world had ever seen. I knew not to touch it, obviously, but, I became GLaDOS, having an insatiable need to test! I looked for something, anything to dip into the pool. Something small, something I could tie a rope to and pull out of the vat.\n\nI ran upstairs to see what I could find. In the kitchen I found a banana. I never intended on eating it, just using it for scale. I ran to another room and grabbed the string and scissors I would need. Next, I searched my room and found the perfect object: a ring. The ring was what one could call gold, considering how unshiny it was. The ring wasn't worth anything, trust me, I checked, and it didn't have any sentimental value because it was from an old *friend*.\n\nI practically jumped down the steps back to the basement. I first tried the banana. I tied the string to the center of the fruit and opened up the door. I dipped the bottom half of the ripe banana into to the pool and when I pulled it out, it was a deep, endless black. The once fully yellow banana was now more closer to a black-and-white cookie than any fruit. I elected it wasn't safe to eat the banana, probably the smart choice too. \n\nI then rigged up the ring and submerged it in the lava. This time the ring emerged, not infinitely black, like before, but a burning, ruby red and a spotless, enchanted gold color, resonating like distant heat waves in the middle of a desert. I forces myself to not touch the ring, despite the felling like it was calling out to me, begging me to put it on my finger. \n\nI exited the room and my eye caught a glimpse of the time: 3:30 a.m.! Good thing it was Saturday! Even still, I needed to go to sleep. My eyes were betraying me, collapsing in on themselves, slowly, gently removing me from the world. I quickly regained my bearings and shook my head awake. Still holding the ring, I put it down after it had what I could only assume dried. I drudged upstairs and fell on the comfy new bed. \n\nAs I lay there, trying to piece together the puzzle, I began to hear the whispers. The ring was in the basement and I was on the second floor, but I could still hear them loud and clear. It's like they were calling to me, begging me to answer them. I refused... Until tomorrow morning. \n\nI awoke to the menacing sound of silence. With nothing to do, I headed back downstairs. The whispers weren't meaningless now, they carried a message.\n\n\"Put it on. Do it! Everything you could ever desire will be yours.\" They went on and on and on, with the same general concept throughout.\n\n\"Fuck it, what have I got to lose?\" I slowly slid the ring on to my finger. It oddly fit perfectly. As the ring contacted the bottom of my finger, my mind flooded with power. My eyes saw what I could construct, what I could destroy. I saw such immense power, such dark and raw power. It was so purely, ungodly evil and deliberate, and the most frightening part was, I loved it.",
"I laid down on the walkway and looked over into the seething, frothing pit of blackness below. Strange, I thought, how much the boiling, bubbling mess seemed to have no smell or heat whatsoever coming up from it. In fact, it was so cold that my breath began to materialize in front of my face.\n\nThis was the third night that I had found myself in the pit. The liquid below seemed to get closer to the walkway every time I came in. My first instinct was to call someone, but who? A plumber? A home inspector? The police? Who's responsible for a pool of blackness hidden behind a painted over doorway? I wanted to call someone, anyone. I should have made the call, but I didn't.\n\nSomething compelled me closer to it. At this point, it was entirely possibly to reach down and dip my finger into the water. Stretching out my hand over the surface of the pool, only inches away from the liquid, I felt this overwhelming urge to touch it. But an instinct somewhere deep down in the reptilian part of my brain told me I'd better not. Interesting, my hand cast no reflection at all. \n\nMaybe I should test the water first. Nothing in my pockets. No objects lying anywhere within reach. There was no watch, no jewelry on me - except for the locket around my neck. Emma had given it to me as a gift for our anniversary. Surely, I thought, it wouldn't hurt to just dip a little of it into the liquid. Just to check the temperature first. That should be safe enough I thought.\n\nLaying on the walkway, my hands reached up behind my neck to unfasten the metal clasp of the locket. With a firm grip on the chain, my hand reached out over the pool and slowly began to lower the dangling locket down into the bubbling liquid. No sound was made when the metal touched the surface and sent ripples rolling out in all directions. As it descended slightly farther, the blackness began to inch its way up onto the chain. Slightly startled, I yanked the chain back out and stood up as the dark waters dripped off of it back into the pool. Some bizarre missed communication between my eyes and brain presented a vision of the drops as dozens of tiny little black spiders falling back into the pool.\n\nAfter giving the locket a little shake to dry it off, a short nervous chuckle burst out of me as I reached behind my neck to put the chain back on. Ridiculous, I thought to myself. Spiders? There were no spiders, just a few droplets of water. No reflection? The water was dark and murky, and doorway offered poor lighting. Easily explained.\n\nClosing the doorway and walking back into the kitchen, I heard my cellphone begin to buzz on the table. Reaching out to answer it, I noticed that it was Emma calling. She must have just gotten home from work, although it did seem to be a little late for her to be calling.\n\n\"Hey Emma, shouldn't you be in be-\", I started, but the words were cut short by the screams.\n\n\"Jesus, Robert! They're everywhere, I can't open the door and they're coming in through the vents and pipes, help me please!\", she said.\n\n\"Emma, what? What is it?\", I said, my heart beating out of my chest.\n\nSpiders, she said. Black spiders.\n\n\n\n "
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Of course, this is gonna change a lot of things. How are we going to deal with that ?
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[WP] All humans on Earth suddenly grow wings.
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"They called it the Flight. No one was really quite sure what happened. One single moment in everyone's head seemed to disappear. In that time, everyone, everywhere, grew a pair of majestic white wings. That was the Flight. No one remembers the wings emerging. They just appeared. \n\nAs far as the academics are concerned, nothing changed. We still have the same DNA. There are theories everywhere that the gene was in mankind, only repressed. Others balked. The pious claimed this a tool of the rapture. The Searchers, dressed in those god-awful purple robes, flew around all day looking in the clouds for their maker. \n\n",
"Dreams came true in an instant when humans suddenly sprouted wings. All ages and creeds grew magnificent feather wings like those of angels. Sadly, many excitable souls couldn't contain themselves and took there new wings to great heights, their new muscles were weak and those happy souls were extinguished. Others sought to master their angelic appendages and it wasn't long until the skies were filled with winged humans. \n\nPeople found out the hard way that wing modifications rendered them useless. People sadly walked the streets with tattooed and pierced symbols of regret while pristine wings soared overhead. A new wave of puritan sensibilities swept the world with a pair of perfect white wings as its symbol. Crime rates fell, brotherly togetherness spread and love beat out war. The world became a much kindlier place when humans sprouted wings. Where they came from was irrelevant, the population embraced their new wings with love as they changed the world.",
"\"So, uh, yeah. My ankles.\"\n\nI looked down. Sure enough, peeking out just from below her bell-bottoms, a pair of wings had sprouted at her feet.\n\nShe avoided my gaze. Must have been embarrassing. Everybody had wings, but not all in the same place. Mine grew in on my forearms. Decently sized, but not enough to generate thrust. I figured I could use them at some point, but only a day in, I had no idea how I could possibly utilize them usefully.\n\nJenna, on the other hand, well...she had these ankle wings. They were undeveloped and weak. They twitched awkwardly, scratching up her skin and getting tangled in her shoelaces. She later showed me a roll of tape that she had to start using to keep them from acting up randomly.\n\n\"It's unfair,\" she said through tears. \"Who decided this fate for me?\"\n\nThe sky was now filled with an absurd amount of humans. Those whose wings grew in fully and in the right position were able to transcend their grounded ways of life. Others could do some rudimentary kinds of flying or gliding, tripping and fluttering uncontrollably but nonetheless amazed by their new-found capacities.\n\nThen I looked at Jenna again. Her life might as well have not changed. She wields a burden heavy, but useless - significant only as a reminder that she will never grace the clouds like the others. She hid her misery, but her lofty gaze spoke volumes.\n\nI could not say that anyone decided this. The unfortunate case of Jenna, caught in a reality that shows no purpose in its design and, likewise, no remorse for any of its actions or creations. \n\nNot even ankle wings.",
"I woke up to a pleasant aroma. \n\nDownstairs, I saw my mom benched over, trimming an unusual plant. \n\n\"Oh Micheal, how do you like your wings\" My mom asked\n\nFinally in view, I saw the plant in its true glory; branches upon branches of hanging plump juicy wings. Buffalo wings, blu ranch wings, spicy chipolata wings; it was a nearly endless assortment of deliciousness. \n\n\"Mom, how did these get here?\" I asked in astonishment. \n\n\"Oh darling, Everyone just started growing them for some reason.\" \n\nI wrapped a napkin around my neck and was prepared to dive in, if only the alarm clock didn't ring.\n ",
"It was fucking chaos.\n\nNo one knew what happened, nor did they really have time to figure it out. From what was able to be pieced together, it seemed there was a worldwide blackout. Only a few minutes. But when everyone came to, they had wings.\n\nGoddamn wings. \n\nNow imagine, what would be the first thing you did if you woke up with wings? After the initial inspection and confusion of course. Would it be, maybe, I don’t know… fly? Yeah. You and everyone else.\n\nHumans weren’t meant to fly. Humans don’t know how to fly. Slapping on a pair of wings doesn’t give you the millennia of animal instinct needed to maneuver through the air. Of course that didn’t run through the minds of the people who immediately threw themselves out the windows of their high rise apartments. Some saved themselves mid fall. Others, not so much. Have you ever watched a baby giraffe walk for the first time? Watching humans attempt flight was exactly like that. Some caught on quicker than others, but by no means did that make them graceful.\n\nAnd the ones who grasped it the quickest? The children. We’re talking 8 and under here. Little ones took to the air like they were born with those things. But not their parents. Thousands of unsupervised children, toddlers even, flying away as their wailing parents stumble after them in vain. The government was quick with that one, throwing together a network for these adventurous youngsters. Parents would post the kids info complete with a picture. If you came across an unsupervised kid you were grab a hold of them and drag them to the closest police station, where they would essentially lock them up until their parents could come retrieve them. \n\nAnd you know how there’s restricted airspace? Where planes aren’t allowed to fly? Yeah, people can’t fly there either. Hundreds of people were shot down in the first few hours, inciting a rebellion among the masses. Taking to the street corners like evangelists, they were quick to recruit. People will grasp at anything when they’re confused and frightened. They’re building an alarming large army, and soon they will rise.\n\nAs for me? Well I’m leaving. Heard there’s some islands you can find in the east, religious bunches that believe the end of days is approaching and are waiting it out in peace. I don’t know if I believe it, but I’m sure as hell not staying here.\n",
"I was in the bathroom when it happened. As I glanced into the mirror, fresh out of the shower, my back... I felt something inside. What? My back began to twist and move side to side. That's when I felt it pierce my skin. It was a burning sensation, as if alcohol was poured on an open wound. I couldn't help but cry. As a tear came down my face, the pain intensified. I felt daggers coming out of my back with blood seeping from them. I then look up, and behold something bizarre and sinister. Out of my back, out of my blood, had come these red angel wings. Was it my blood that tainted it from it's purity? There wasn't anything else I could do. The pain had subsided, and I now had these... wings. \n\nI went back into the shower, to clean the blood from my newest evolution. As the water runs down on me, I feel the water on my wings. I have nerves on these things? I don't feel blood coming of my wings though. Why would they be red? When I exit, I wipe away the steam to get a look at the mirror. My head had grown crimson horns. What the hell? Wait... Hell. It must be happening. \n\nAs I spread my wings before me, I recall that it is the day of Angelic Ascension. The armies of Heaven and Hell sent their forces in as sleepers. As humans. When the day came, the identities of them would be revealed as Angels or Fallen. My Fallen has awoken. Heaven shall burn. \n\nEdit: Typos and Clarity. I did this at school on my phone. I get chills when I read it! "
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[WP] A boy downloads some shady software on his computer, and doesn't read the terms and conditions. Hidden in these terms however, is some dark stuff (im not sure what it could be)
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"Jack was never really *that* good with computers. He couldn’t help himself, they just didn’t interest him. What did interest him, however, was the endless amount of information that existed on the internet. He was astounded that anything he desired to learn could be discovered with just a few keystrokes. Jack would spend hours upon hours on Wikipedia, using the “Random Article” button to satisfy his desire to learn. During one of these Wikipedia binges, it seemed the article chosen for him wasn’t exactly random. The entry he was directed to was for a book known as the Forbidden Encyclopedia, a repository of information that was too dangerous for mankind to know. Jack was immediately infatuated with the idea that there was a tome that would grant him knowledge that was unobtainable to the rest of the world. To his dismay, however, the entry was painfully bare. Aside from the basic description there was no other information about the encyclopedia. Jack quickly set himself to the task of finding this book. \n\nHe searched for what seemed an eternity, staying glued to his computer for days at a time. He was propelled by the allure of the encyclopedia, unable to resist it’s siren song. Weeks passed by, and when it seemed all hope had left him, he found a single post in a long-abandoned occult message board. The lone post contained a link to a file titled “ForbiddenEncyclopedia.zip” and no other information. This was the closest Jack had come to finding a shred of information about the book and was not going to permit this opportunity to pass him by. Trembling with excitement he saved the file, and braced himself for what he might find. It seemed like an eternity while the file downloaded, all the while his mind raced with possibilities. When it was finished, he opened the file and was greeted with a single folder. Inside was a lone icon, “Encyclopedia.exe”, tears began to gather in his eyes as he guided his cursor to the icon and double-clicked.\n\nAfter a moment he was greeted with a text box. It contained paragraph upon paragraph of important looking legal jargon. *”I don’t have time for this!”* Jack thought. He clicked “I Agree” and waited as the program installed itself. With every passing second Jack’s impatience grew until he was tearing his hair out from the sheer frustration of waiting for this gift to become his. When the installation was complete he cried with joy, for now his destiny was upon him, to become the curator of the greatest information ever recorded. Jack opened the program and was greeted with a page of links to various topics ranging from “Demon Summoning” to “Mind Control.” Jack ravenously read through page after page, soaking in the secrets contained in the book. Jack read for hours and only scratched the surface of the contents of the book. Eventually the fatigue of his search and the emotional drain of finding the book took its toll on Jack. With heavy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Jack grudgingly laid on his filthy bed and succumbed to a restless and fitful sleep. \n\nIn his sleep he had frightening visions of lakes of fire and walking corpses, tortured by giddy imps and demons. When Jack woke he was soaked in sweat and his head was swirling, heavy under the weight of the things he knew. As he rubbed the grogginess from his eyes, he quickly became aware that he was no longer in his own room. Instead he was lying on the dirt floor of a tiny cell. He jumped up and ran to the heavy steel door. Outside the door stretched a hallway lined with cells that seemed to go on forever. Jack began to scream, a primal scream that came from somewhere deep in the genetic history of humankind. He was silenced by the sudden appearance of a hooded figure in front of the door. Trembling, he slowly backed away. After a few gasps he managed to find his voice and asked “Where am I?” The hooded figure remained motionless as it began to speak, “You people always ask that question,” the voice was a croaky monotone that forced a shiver to run down Jack’s spine, “You never bothered to read the agreement, did you?” Jack gaped for a moment before asking, “What agreement?” The figure laughed a vile, terrible laugh that made Jack’s stomach churn, “Perhaps the next time you are presented with a contract, you will read it a bit more carefully.” ",
"SO, a shit ton of FBI guys showed up. Seriously. Over some god damn software. I don't have any idea what in the holy fuck they could be looking for. It looked like a game, it was from a respectable source (PirateThisShit.com, if you're interested), and it looked cool. So fuck it, I gave it a chance. I didn't see anything that would even remotely make me bomb the White House or anything.\n\nThe game was called, I shit you not, Super Bloody Hardcore Shooter Game 2: Modern Gorefest. It's from some indie company that I guess nobody gives a shit about since I haven't even heard of this game.\n\nI'm not a computer genius, but anyone who actually reads the Terms and Conditions for anything is a fucking moron. Being someone of slightly above average intelligence, I decided to not waste my time and just start shooting Nazis in their genital regions.\n\nSome government official with their super smart government computer must have noticed some blip on the system or whatever and decided \"Fuck it, let's go knock on some door of some 18 year old entitled prick and make him think that he downloaded some illegal government software and make him wear tin foil hats for the rest of his life.\" Better than doing fuck all, I guess. Yeah, shots just got fired.\n\nSo, now, I'm sitting here, wondering what the fuck is going on, the FBI is at my house yelling that I have government secrets on my computer, my dog's going fucking nuts, and I have two giant bottles of piss I've got to throw out but now can't.\n\nI hate this place.",
"Becky sat in her room, trying not to cry. She didn't mean... She didn't. \n\n\"I don't want this.\" \n\n\"Now, now, Ariel,\" the man in the red hood said, \"You need to pick up the slack.\" \n\n\"I won't,\" Becky said. \"Stop calling me that.\" \n\nThe man sighed and turned towards the door. Becky moved after him, but her legs were useless. They were dead from the knee down. \"Bring in the girl,\" the man said. \n\nThere was a familiar scream, Becky watched her little sister get dragged into the room. The cameras focus in on her beautiful face, her blonde hair in a riot around her face. Becky had always been envious of Suzanna, but now she just feared for her. \n\n\"This is Sleeping Beauty,\" the man said. He pulled a knife from his picket, flicked it open and slit her through. \"Now, Ariel, do we need to have your brother fight a dragon? Or your father turn to stone?\" \n\nBecky remained stupid with fear. She didn't know what to say.\n\n\"Drink the water,\" the man said. \"And it will all be over.\" \n\nBecky picked up the glass of water and drank it down. She fell into blackness. \n\nWhen she woke up, she started to scream. They were halfway through with their 'experiment.' They were using fire to melt her legs together. Then, with utmost care, they were sewing on tiny, glittering scales. Someone took a swing at Becky's temple, knocking her out again.\n\nWhen she woke, she was on a table, in front of several very hungry looking men. \n\n\"I bring you, the seafood dish,\" the man in the red hood said. \"Now, eat.\" ",
"\"These stupid terms and conditions, fifteen pages long? Are you kidding me? Yes blah blah, I accept.\" \n\n\"Finally. I finally can play this game.. Three different softwares from three different websites, ridicolous.\" \n\nI opened the game and as soon as I did, my mom yelled \"Time for dinner!\" \n\n\"GOD DAMN IT.\" \n\nOkay I can play it afterwards. It's okay. I went downstairs and started eating dinner as fast as I could. \n\n\"Yes mom I had a good day at school.\"\n\nFuck, I swear my mom never stops talking. \n\n\"My project?\" Oh shit.. I thought to myself. I completely forgot about my history project due tomorrow. Damn it, that game is going to have wait until tomorrow.\n\nI went back upstairs. I can't believe I forgot about this project. I'll have to type all of it. This is bullshit. I pressed my monitor button on and my whole computer turned off. What the fuck? I thought to myself. I tried turning it back on. And the monitor suddenly filled up with mysterious pictu... \n\nUgghh, what the fuck happened? I woke back up in my computer chair. I glanced at the clock. 5am?! What the fuck! Did I even get my report done? No! god damn it. I didn't even feel that tired. Well whatever, I'll tell my teacher some bullshit. I'm going back to bed.\nI even feel asleep with my clothes on, ridicolous. I grabbed my shirt and it was wet, what the hell? I thought to myself. I walked over to my light and turned it on. I looked down... Oh my god. What the hell happened? I was completely covered in blood from head to toe. What.. What happened? \n\nI walked out of my room, and into the hallways. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, the floor, the ceiling. \n\n\"Haha, everyone! Very funny. You can come out now.\" No one answered. \n\n\"HELLO! Anyone?\"\n\nSilence. \n\nOkay.. Well this has to be a joke, right? I decided to go check all the rooms. One by one, no one in any of them. Even my annoying brother wasn't playing video games. Hm. This is weird. \n\nLet's go check the kitchen. \n\n\"OH MY GOD.\" I yelled out. \n\nThere was everything... Everywhere. I can't even.. Blood... Skin... Organs... Mmm. I suddenly felt rather hungry. \n\n\"Ugghh.. What the fuck?\" I awoke again, this time in an empty room with only a bed. \n\n\"HELLO?! SOMEONE?!\" \n\nI heard someone talking. \n\n\"Hello?! Someone! Help me! Where am I?\"\n\nA head popped up through a window in a door. \"You know where you are you disgusting fuck. Don't try and play that crazy card with me. I'm surprised those cops didn't shoot you down, they fucking should have. But that's okay, I'll make sure you get what you deserve while you're in here.\"",
"John sits happily typing away in his small apartment in Atlanta, far enough away from the city to avoid the noise, but close enough to commute to his job at the Safeway every day in a decent amount of time. He's moved out of his parents house at the age of 19, and is saving money to go to college for programming and web design. Seven days ago, John downloaded a dictionary for a coding language he wanted to learn, because he figured it would speed up the process. The program had a lengthy terms and conditions, of which he skimmed the first few lines before ignorantly clicking accept. He'd downloaded it from a .ru domain, which concerned him a bit when he first visited the site. He was worried his computer might get a virus from the download, and annoyed by all the popup ads for Russian brides. After waking up this morning, he completes his morning routine and heads for the bus stop.\n\nOn the way out the door, John notices the same van parked in front of his building for the fourth day in a row. He disregards it again, figuring some new tenant is moving in or an old one out, having seen the process numerous times even in the span he'd lived there. Whistling a tune to himself, he makes his way down the block to the bus stop by the corner. Getting on, he pays the familiar driver and mutters a greeting before sitting down. Just as the bus is about to leave, three men he hadn't seen before hurry to stop it, and the driver opens the doors again. The men make their way down the aisle to where John is seated, and claim the spots behind him, and across the aisle. John takes little notice and flicks through songs on his iphone, settling in for the 20 minute ride into the city.\n\nAs the bus pulls up to the Johns stop, he gets up and leaves through the front door, saying a quick thanks to the driver as he exits the bus. What he doesn't notice is the three men leaving through the back doors, and moving in the same direction he is. As he makes his way through the throngs of people traveling both ways down the crowded sidewalks of downtown Atlanta, he catches a glimpse of the same van he saw outside his building that morning. Shrugging it off as a coincidence, John continues walking towards the Safeway, eager to begin the day, though he can't shake a feeling of uneasiness that suddenly crept up on him.\n\nAs John passes the first alleyway along his route, he sticks a dollar in a panhandlers cup as he does every day, giving the man a quick smile in return for some well-wishes. Passing the second alleyway, he sees the van yet again, and his feeling of unease worsens with every step. The sidewalk narrows due to construction before the next alleyway, and the van pulls up in front of the opening between the buildings, and a side door slides open. Forcing himself to ignore it, John lowers his head and continues on his way. As he passes in front of the third and final alleyway before the employee entrance to the store, a figure leaps out of the shadows and tackles John into the van. The three men who had been following him sprint to the van and leap in, before slamming the door shut.\n\nJohn hears the vans engine rev up and the vehicle begin to roll, and the realization of what just happened hits him hard. Flailing around, he begins to try and fight, but the four men in the back restrain him easily, and he has no choice but to stop.\n\n\"What the hell do you want?!\" He shouts. \"Who are you? What did I do to you?\" He repeats over and over before a gag is forced into his mouth. One of the men responds to him, saying in a thick Russian accent:\n\n\"Silly boy, you brought this upon yourself.\" He says, \"Now you belong to us, and we do what we please with you.\" The man chuckles cruelly and the others join in. John begins to protest, but his words are muffled, though he is able to grunt out \"Why?\".\n\nThe men take notice, and the one who had spoken earlier responds \"You clicked accept boy. Now you are ours, and you will work for us, until you die or we are done with you.\" He smiles a sadistic smile, and shoves a sack over Johns head. John slowly understands what has happened, and begins to tremble with fear, afraid of what he got himself into. He begins to sob, and one of the men swings a meaty fist back, and strikes John in the head, knocking him out instantly.\n\nEdit: I apologize if there is any misinformation about coding or the bus system in Atlanta or something like that. I don't know much about either, and just picked them for minor details and to set up the story.",
"“Yeah yeah yeah, terms and conditions… agree… yeah, no unlawful use… *whatever*! Jesus!” Henry growled, exasperated. His index finger slammed into his mouse like a machine gun. “Just let me open the fucking thing!”\n\nBehind his closed bedroom door, he could hear his mother calling from downstairs.\n\n“HENRY! DINNER IN FIFTEEN!”\n\nHe silently cursed to himself. His new video surveillance software had taken at least an hour to install, and now he only had a few minutes before dinner. After eating, he would have to do the dishes, then take out the trash, then feed Sparky, then do his homework, then jump out of a twenty-story building because he would never have time to watch Jenna take a shower. He went through all the trouble of sneaking a camera into her bathroom, and for what? \n\nA message appeared on his computer screen: “Do you agree to these terms and conditions?” \n\n*Click*.\n\n“Are you sure you agree to these terms and conditions?”\n\n*CLICKCLICKCLICK*!\n\n“Thank you for using Voyeur Pro! A shortcut will be added to your desktop.”\n\n“Finally,” he said with a sigh of relief. He unbuttoned his pants. Maybe Jenna was in there now. \n\n“DINNER TIME! HENRY! **HENRY!**”\n\n“Oh are you f…OKAY MOM! COMING!”\n\nThere would be time tomorrow morning before school. He stood, zipped up his pants, and stomped out of the room. \n\n***\n\nHis bed was soft. His eyelids were heavy. The relaxing smell of the sandalwood incense burning on his nightstand allowed his thoughts to stray. He would watch Jenna in the morning. In the morning. In the…\n\n*BAM*! His door exploded inward, splinters flying everywhere. He sat up, terrified, and was met with a blinding flash of light. Footsteps filled the room. He felt a sharp prick in his neck, and soon he blacked out. \n\n***\n\nHe awoke to a splitting headache. At first, he wasn’t sure if he had opened his eyes, or if the room was pitch black. A sudden light originating from a place just past his blind spot answered that question for him. \n\n“What the hell is this? Where *am* I???”\n\nA deep voice chuckled in response. \n\n“Well Henry, it appears you didn’t read our terms of service.”\n\n“Your what…” he froze, trying to remember what exactly had been in that user agreement. “What did I agree to?”\n\nThe man circled around in front of him, just beyond the light. Henry attempted to lean forward to get a better look. I was then that he realized he was tied to a chair. \n\n“You see, Henry, when you agreed to our terms of service, you agreed to be tortured to death on a live stream.”\n\n“WHAT?!?!?!”\n\nThe man dashed up to him with a ball gag and fastened it in and around his mouth.\n\n“Shhhhh. No more talking. Let’s get down to business.”\n\nAt the other end of the room, shrouded in the darkness, a tiny red light began flashing. \n",
"\"It's just a fucking peace of fucking software you sick motherfucker!\" Anthony yelled, with all of his breath. He could feel the blood coming from his lips.\nAnthony tried to rock himself out of the operation-table, but only the bloop and sweat from his body moved.\n\n\"You have agreed to be part of this holy sacrifice. Your salvation is near.\" Anthony tried to move his head to see who the deep, toneless voice came from.\n\"WHAT THE FUCK MAN? Who the fuck are you!?\" Anthony yelled with an angry voice.\n\"Who I am does not matter. I am only a simple voice for the chosen clan.\" The voice responded.\n\"Why am I here??? WHAT HAVE I DONE!?\" Anthony said nervously. \"Is it my money you want?? I'll give you my money! Just fucking c-\" \n\"WE do not seek your wealth. We only seek your soul.\" Interrupted the voice.\nAs Anthony's heart started to beat faster than he even knew it could, he heard many steps coming towards him from all directions. Suddenly, an emotionless mask looked at him. For 20 seconds, there was only the noise of Anthony's fast breathing.\n\nFinally, Anthony calmed himself down and managed to speak directly to the masked man. \"Please, I'm so sorry I downloaded your software, PLEASE let me go! I don-\" \"Silence, chosen one.\" the mask replied, motionless \"You have agreed to sacrifice your body, in flesh and blood, for this holy ritual. We have prepared you.\" \n\n\"What... what the FUCK are you talking about???\" Anthony yelled with tears in his eyes. \n\n\n(I'm gonna continue the story in a couple of hours, I didn't have time to write more. (If you want to, please write on to my story!))"
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Write about two teenagers living in the Netherlands without researching the location. The teenagers must be Dutch, otherwise it would be far to easy. The content should include some details of a typical teenagers life, school, friends etc.
This challenges your ability to write a story that feels as if its written locally, without having the full picture yourself.
Don't worry about failing to get that feel, failing is just an opportunity to learn.
P.S. This is my first try at a Writing Prompt. I hope I'm doing this right :P.
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[WP]Write about two teenagers living in the Netherlands without researching the location.
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[
"The siblings traveled the hour journey to the coast from their small inland town. A boy drove while a girl sat beside him looking outside her window, eyes lost in a distant world. They passed crumbling bunkers from wars of recent past, now daisies grew where once men horrifically died. \n\n\"Are you still thinking about John?\", the boy asked. The girl turned to him as though he spoke from miles away. \"John? Are you still thinking about him?\" he repeated. She stared ahead, now seeing the beach town in front of her. A few rustic hotels and small houses blocked the ocean view. This was their favorite place to go on weekends, a few hours to escape the rigid rules and high expectations of their uptight family. \"I wasn't. No, I was just thinking about school, about that math test on Friday.\" He didn't believe her. Her \"on again, off again\" boyfriend John finally moved away much to the happiness of their parents. They pulled up to a parking lot adjacent to a hotel. \n\nTwo hours later after a long walk on the beach they sat at their favorite pub with two tall cups of half empty beer. The frites between them all gone save for some mounds of leftover mayonnaise. The girl looked uncomfortable for the past few minutes. The boy sensed she wanted to say something. \"Out with it,\" he said. \"Out with whatever you want to tell me.\" Her eyes widened and a huge smile took over her face. \"He proposed! John actually proposed! Right before he left, but he told me not to tell anyone!\" The boy made a jerking motion like he might stand up. His face turned red. \"Proposed? The French bastard fucking proposed? He took your virginity and god knows what else and now wants to marry you?\" The girl didn't understand. Why wasn't he happy for her? She only wanted to be happy and to move out of the town she had grown up in. \"He is moving back to Madrid and after I graduate I'm going to live with him. We are in love and you should be happy.\" The conversation kept like this, the brother trying to make her understand why this wasn't such a good idea. But she was resolved in her decision. As she said \"Just because your not in a relationship doesn't mean...\" she got a text. \"It's from John,\" she smirked. But the text wasn't what she expected, her face turned white and her smirk turned sour. \"What is it? What happened?\" her brother asked. She glanced around looking for the exits. \"It's getting really hot in here, let's leave and go home,\" was her reply. He thought she looked on the verge of tears. They left and John wasn't brought up again. \n\nAfter a week with no further knowledge of the text and what it contained the brother had to look. He felt compelled by a sense of family duty to make the situation right. But first he needed to know what the situation was. He quickly found it, the text from John that night: \"Paulina, I swear I'm single that finance thing is just a rumor, I only want you babe.\" *Paulina didn't get the text, my sister did.* *At least she won't be leaving now*. He looked up and grinned. \n\nedit: formatting ",
"The borther and sister sat down on the plastic chairs of Line D, and the subway started moving once more towards Station Rijnhaven. 'So, you have any tests today?' Jordi, the younger brother of Sarah asked her. 'A Biology S.O, that's about it. I'm out earlier, and I'm going to the Koopgoot with Tessa and Jane.' 'That's cool' Jordi responded curtly, as he looked out of the window. Rotterdam was the biggest haven on the world, they were teached at school, but it didn't look that impressive to him. Sure, there were cranes and such, but it wasn't... huge. It was kind of boring, really. He glanced over at her sister, who was violently WhatsApping her friends and boyfriend, which reminded him. He got his own phone out, put in his earbuds, and closed his eyes to De Jeugd van Tegenwoordig - [Sterrenstof](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNMXSKfWfLQ). Soon, he drifted off into sleep..\n\n'Station Den Haag Centraal, Eindstation' his eyes shot open in shock. 'Goddamnit..' he muttered, realizing that he had fallen asleep. He glanced over, and saw that his sister was long gone, before feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. He had received a WhatsApp from Sarah:\n\n*lol*"
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[WP] The secret to time travel is Mcdonald's, but people are getting obese.
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[
"\"It gives a whole new meaning to 'Tear in the space-time continuum'.\"\n\nJames Bucking, PhD, watched with arms crossed. Standing next to him was his new assistant, a doctoral candidate by the name Cade Minster. \n\nIn front of them, they saw an ass. No delicate way to put it. A pair of size 48 jeans, with a split down the middle, covered an rather round rump, the backside of a man bent over and stuck in a large metallic ring. \n\nThe lab was seeing more and more issues in the system. After learning that the infamous \"pink slime,\" McDonald's key ingredient in Chicken McNuggets, somehow curved space-time in high concentrations, the animal testing began. Then the human testing.\n\nWhen they sent 5'10\", 280 pound Jonathon Lynch five minutes back in time, they won a Nobel Prize. When Dr. Bucking went back in time to snap a picture with Ray Croc, the company's founder, he won it again. Dr. Bucking did, of course, take care to tell Mr. Croc he was simply a photographer from Time, and not, well, a time traveler. \n\nCEO Don Thompson was totally on board. They even opened a store across from the lab on the south side of Chicago. The University of Chicago had pioneered Atomic Energy and Economic Innovation. Now it was pioneering Time Travel. \n\nBut it wasn't quite as majestic as it once was. And this returns us to the ass. \n\nCade Minster pulled out a tape measure. He latched it onto a belt loop and stretched it across the tuchus. \n\nThe Dr. took a note on his clipboard. \"It's not as if we didn't know this was bound to happen.\" He muttered. He sighed, looking up at Cade. \"We'll have to apply for another grant to make the rings bigger.\" \n\nThe \"ring\" was the key to the whole process. By reading bio-signatures, the ring, made up of a composite metal, engineered with tungsten and **[CLASSIFIED]**, would vibrate at a frequency that opened a portal of sorts to the past. A tether would be wrapped around the time-traveler, tying them to the waking world and keeping the portal open enough to be reopened with accuracy. \n\nThe tethers, though, were getting increasingly larger. And that's because the test subjects were getting larger. A diet of McDonald's, and only McDonald's, was the key creating a body chemistry with enough of the \"pink slime\" to activate the ring. The higher concentration of pink slime, the more stability in the transport. The higher the diet of pink slime, the less stability in the waistline. \n\nAnd now, in front of them, wearing a glowing ring like a belt, was the lower half of Scott Denning. His upper body was somewhere in rural Connecticut in 1859. \n\n\"You think he's sweating on the other side?\" Dr. Bucking smirked. Cade, by comparison, was taken aback by the joke. To him, this was serious. For Bucking, it was a bit humorous. \n\n\"Well, I guess this ends the trial. Let's lube up his sides and pull him back. I'll put in a call to Don. Maybe for another commercial appearance, he'll get us some more funding.\" \n\nHe walked away from the ring and put his clipboard on the table. The top of the page had notes scribbled, but the bottom half was covered by one word. FAT. Underlined twice. \n\nHe tapped the Ronald McDonald Bobble-head on the desk. Behind him, various graduate assistants provided a lubricant to the sides of the man locked between two times. Meanwhile, the Dr. looked at the bobble-head. He looked at the painted smile and painted face. He looked at the painted smile. \n\nHe smiled back. He grabbed a Chicken McNugget from the table. He took a bite. This was the source of the greatest scientific achievement in all of history. And it was the source of the greatest public health concern of the modern age. \n\nAnd it was delicious. And for the moment, that was all that mattered. \n\n\n\n\n",
"Day 54: \n\nI am growing ever closer to solving the case of the quantum McNuggets. I have increased the increment of ketchup by an additional 0.3% with astounding results. I was well into my fifth hour of testing and had witnessed further more unbelievable historical acts as per the previous days. My first bite took me back to 1953 – I found myself atop Mount Everest with the initial summiting party. Feeling the sweat on my forehead rapidly cooling, and eager to press on, I proceeded to nibble another half-inch of tender nugget flesh until I found myself in a medieval chapel surrounded by monks going about their daily business.\n\nJust what is it about the McNuggets that controls space and time so?\n\nI have found that by altering the type, consistency and flavour of the condiments I am able to gain some semblance of control and impart logic to the jumps through space and time. Can it truly be the sauce alone that is doing it though I wonder? Every time I rip through the fabric of everything we previously thought possible I feel my hands grow cold and clammy and my stomach turn, the results of almost two months of eating nothing but McNuggets.\n\nI was vegan once, but what is morality in the face of such achievement?\n\nI have cast aside all cares for my physical form alongside my previous ethics. I am an ethereal barge witnessing moments lost to history, cruising through past, present, future… goodbye Genghis Khan, hello Al Capone…\n\nDay 68:\n\nIncreasingly so I have less time to write. Overwhelming responsibility, uncontrollable shaking, hands growing flabbier and looser the more I paw at the remaining stash of quantum McNuggets. The sweat pours from me now and people look aghast at my form as I hover to and fro through time maniacally, moving ever onwards…\n\nI have cracked it. It is the precise mix of tomato acid combined with the gristle and processed who-knows-what (a concern for a later date surely – there is more than enough of this mystery meat compound to fuel my travels) that allows me to control where I end up.\n\nI spent a few pleasing moments catching my breath as I surveyed the construction of the pyramids, huffing and wheezing as an extra-dimensional Pharaoh, a pariah of inestimable girth and power.\n\nMy heart grows weaker and the clothes on my back yawn and stretch obscenely, but whilst I have my quantum McNuggets my anxiety to see all that I can will never diminish.\n\nI now lay somewhere between man and God both in power and sheer cosmic mass.\n",
"That curly headed son of a bitch figured it out! I ate a McRib precisely 24 years 3 months and 18 days ago, yet only moments ago I savored that sweet sauced mouthful of joy. And look! It's McRib day. \n\n\"Excuse me sir!\" Maybe this cashier can help me.\n\nA overly chubby man whips towards me with a questioning look, \"Welcome to McDonalds. When can I help you\"\n\n\"Can you send me back?\" I ask\n\n\"Only to McRib promotion dates, when will that be sir?\"\n\n\"Umm 2013?\"\n\n\"Woah, well I can't send you there. We can only go back to 2020, but you can go as far forward as you want.\"\n\n\"Well. That is strange I ate this McRib in 2013. Surely there is a mistake.\"\n\n\"No sir. Time Travel 2020 on, everyone knows that. Looks like you got a batch before it was industrialized. So when do you want to go sir?\"\n\n\"Where do normal people go?\" \n\n\"Well there are awesome McRibs in the 3400's. And nothing beats a 4150 McRib Special.\"\n\n\"Does anyone time travel for non food related purposes?\"\n\n\"Ha. Ha. Of course not. We eat McRib's.\"\n\n\"Back in my day, we could only eat McRib's four times a year, MAYBE!\"\n\n\nI have never seen such a horrified face in my life. He was devastated. Here in this time, food is everything. Food is nutrition, food is enjoyment, food is life. I run out in the streets in terror, and everwhere I look, I see fat people. I run back into McDonalds, \"SEND ME BACK!\"\n\n\"But. The McRibs...\"\n\n\"Damn you, I'll take myself back.\" I look long and hard at the slice of pork that lingered in the old wrapper of my meal. I clench my eyes, think real hard about the exact spot I was in when I started to eat, and suddenly I was there. Ronald looked at me in astonishment, \"We. We did it!\" \n\nI stabbed him in the throat, and never went to a McDonalds again."
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It's late, the last run of the subway, and only three people are left on the train car. One woman, one teenage male, and a man in a suit. The kid asks a question-- it seems important to him.
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[WP] End of the line on the subway.
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[
"“Why are you here?”.\n\nThe raised inflection of the boy's simple question echoed a bit through this quiet metal coffin of a transport. I always hated riding on these things; all you can here is the rough bump of the wheels on the tracks as the claustrophobic ringing in your ears deafens everything else. I loosen my tie a bit.\n\nThere is always that one person who is determined to start conversation with someone, regardless of how awkward it may turn out. In this instance, it's three A.M., and that one person is a young boy, around the age of ten. He asks his question, simple enough. There's three of us sitting there – excluding the young boy, and we all hesitate for a moment, no one wanting to be the first to speak, everyone uncomfortably glancing from eye to eye.\n\nFinally the woman speaks, a soft southern drawl fading in and out, appearing every few words. She seems nice enough, just from looking at her; in her early fourties, plain, but with a certain almost motherly feature about her that made her comforting to look at. “My mother.” She takes a shaky breath, staring down at her tattered Vans – an oddly clashing feature, given her age. “She's been in and out of the hospital for the past few months – a smoker, all her damn life. Tons of lung problems and such. She's all I've really got these days, damn near bankrupted myself paying off her medical bills and giving her a place to stay, when she's healthy enough.” She looks off to the side, almost angrily. “We got to fightin' over money and such earlier. Docs are telling me she ain't got much time left, and I didn't want her to go out on a bad note like this, so I hopped the last train over to apologize and stuff.”\n\nShe blushes red as the sounds of the train once again take over. A young man in his late teens clears his throat. “Just coming from my girls' place. She was fighting with her dad again, and I had to check on her. He's an abusive guy with a drinking problem, typical white trash piece of shit. I walk into their trailer park and of course he's the first thing I hear. I knocked on their door and Amber – that's her name – came out crying. She kept telling me everything was fine like she always does, and told me to just go home. I wanted to call the fuckin' cops, but she wouldn't let me do that to her dad, no matter how he treated her.” He kicked at a balled up napkin in the floor. “I just fuckin' walked away. I didn't care what happened to her. I just didn't understand how she could let that piece of shit treat her like that, and just take it.”\n\nAgain, an awkward quiet broken only by the train, pushing toward its final stop, its resting place for the night. I take my tie off, eagerly anticipating my release, my freedom, awaiting that first disgusting breath of stale subway air you get when the doors first slide open. I had no intentions of playing along with this little game my associates were participating in. It had been a bad night. I just wanted to go home. A dusty sign blinked five minutes at us, over and over in dull repetition, letting us know how long we had left to suffer until we finally arrived at our destination, finally allowing us to part ways.\n\nFor a moment after the teen finished his story, they looked expectantly, waiting with baited breath for my background. What I was doing there at three in the goddamn morning. I turned away slightly, putting in my old pair of earbuds, signaling my forfeit from story time. They all took the hint, going back to whatever business they were doing before all of this – all of them except for the little kid. Little guy just kept watching me. What was he even doing down here by himself? None of the others seemed attached to him. He wouldn't look away. Wouldn't break eye contact. I glance back at the sign. Five minutes. Damn thing must be broken. He's still watching me. I really don't want to go over tonight again, I'm reliving everything in my head already, verbalizing my thoughts isn't going to make me feel any better.\n\nI cave. Just to get him to stop his incessant staring. I jerk out my earbuds, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “Fine. I guess it's my turn, then”. I take my time wrapping the cables around my phone, tying them in an intricate knot to buy myself time, gathering my thoughts. “I was turned down. Proposed to my girlfriend, she told me no, and sent me home. Simple as that”. They continue looking at me, none of them sure what to say. The subway car begins to slow. A fucking godsend at this point. I stand up, walking gruffly to the door, anxious to escape this prison of voyeuristic looks into each others' lives.\n\nThe doors scrape open, and I slide out, grabbing a bench and sitting for a moment to catch my breath and enjoy being stationary for a moment. The woman leaves the car, briskly walking to the stairs; the young man follows, at a slower pace. The door then begins to close; where was the young boy? The question passes through my mind for a moment before being replaced by memories of everything that happened tonight, with her. The doors slam shut. I stand up and begin the slow, frigid walk home.",
"It didn't feel right. \n\nI stood there with my hand gripped around the metal pole, even though there was only three people on the subway; I always preferred to stand. In front of me I saw an elderly women, aged beyond time , peppered iron grey hair, and generously plump, delicately picking at her fingers, she posed no threat to me through I would be able to defend myself if such a rare circumstance arises. A few meters from her, sat a teenaged boy deeply attuned with his music. Now businessmen and teenage boys have always been enemies and I can already see reasons to despise him; his clothes were ragged and stained, popping with contrasting eyesore colors, he had thick curls of cinnamon brown hair improperly cut and peeking from a turned hat, acne blistered and clustered around the corner of his mouth, and most importantly he was a youth, Now at this point of observation, I would have declared him a rascal and scoundrel and moved on with my commute; however, under queer circumstances I tolerated his existence. Such strangeness lead me to believe that this whole scene didn't seem right. \n\nI also began to notice that the subway car was no longer ricocheting all over the place anymore. I tried to not bring attention to this, but the fact that the ride felt so indescribably smooth disturbed me deeply. Ignoring it, I looked out the window to rest my mind; we were entombed with darkness outside, only saved by an occasional passing of light. The same number passed us time and time again, 13...13...13. \n\nMy thoughts were interrupted by the teenager, He was coughing into his hands, drawing back bloody fingers. He turned to us both and asked without a stutter. \n\n\"Are we going to die?\" \n\nThe women looked up with empty blacken eyes as we were all suddenly thrown into darkness. \n ",
"A man walks into a bar. Sounds like a joke, yeah. Except five years ago I woke up in a waffle house and didn't know who I was. I still don't know who I am. \n\nYou see, when I came to the morning of February 12, 2008, the only thing I knew about myself was that the night before I ordered 5 waffles, 5 egg plates, 2 large hash browns \"all the way\", and 4 sodas. And according to the waitress I never paid. \n\nMy psychiatrist called it a \"Dissociative Fugue\". I call it reincarnation.\n\nNevermind all that. I worked my way up a department chain and bought a modest house in Sandy Springs, GA. Maybe I didn't know who I was, but sometimes things happen for a reason. I had a fresh start. How many people hope for that?\n\nAnd yeah, I drink too much. But everyone at the bar knows me. When you don't know yourself it helps to have others around you who do. I built my life back, brick by brick. Beer by beer. \n\nI just could never find the last missing piece.\n\nBut yeah, I drink too much. And that night I drank way too much. I didn't end up passed out in a waffle house, mind you, but I was still hammered by the time I woke up 30 minutes before my 11 o'clock meeting. \n\nThe next day was a blur. I remember it wasn't even 4 PM when I took the Marta. Back then I knew where I was going. I think. I was in a suit. I had just finished a meeting, I think. I didn't know what I'd said or what happened. But I knew it was ten minutes to Sandy Springs. I closed my eyes. Colorful fractals danced on the horizon.\n\nI don't know how much time passed, but it wasn't 4:10 PM when the train stopped. I hadn't been awake, I think. Had I been asleep?\n\nThere were two other people on the train car. A kid and a middle-aged lady. Their eyes averted my wide-eyed glare. The kid had Dr. Dre Beats and was slowly, awkwardly bobbing his head. The woman had dark-red hair, barely covering her crow's feet and sagging eyes. I wanted to reach out, ask her about her life. Like I knew her. \n\nNone of them said anything. They both made toward the subway door. Like they knew what they were doing. \n\nI didn't know where I was. But I had to get off the train. Just before the door opens, the kid looks at me. He looks puzzled. \n\n\"Do I know you?\" ",
"He stared intently at the couple. The man in his navy suit, once crisp and finely pressed, now tattered and worn. The woman's sullen face sunken and hollow, a stark contrast from the effortless beauty he remembered. Their empty eyes seemed fixated on something in the distance, peering through him as if he wasn't there. \n\nEvery year was the same. They'd meet on the 12th of December, dressed in their Sunday best. The clothes weren't what they used to be, him having lost his job years ago and her with her debilitating paranoia rendering her incapable of living any semblance of a normal life. Still, they managed what they could. There was always an awkward tension upon the initial greeting. Each of them carried the weight of a lifetime of shared memories that threatened to come crashing down with every tepid embrace, each soft-spoken \"It's good to see you\". He admired their composure, but resented their lack of resilience, hating them for abandoning one another in their greatest hour of need. \n\nYear after year he'd follow them to the same familiar place, the restaurant on the corner of the city's west end. They always sat in the same spot, the small circular table in the back right with a view of the kitchen. The table was always set for three, although it had been years since anyone had joined them. \n\nFor hours they'd sit and reminisce about the past, the conversation taking on a predominately somber tone. Occasionally, he'd catch a moment of happiness, a fleeting twinkle in the man's pale green eyes or the faintest hint of a smile across her lips. How he longed to sit there with them and assure them that everything was alright, but he had given up trying long ago. \n\nAt the end of the night the waiter would come by with a small chocolate- caramel tart, a sparkler fixated in its centre casting an iridescent glow across the couples faces. This year the the number eighteen was scrawled out languidly in white icing. The couple shared the tart, settled the bill and headed back towards the metro. They rode the train in silence, the prospects of saying good-bye for another year creating a palpable tension between them. \n\n\"Ten whole years. Had it really been that long?\" the teen thought to himself. Ten years of somber dinners in favourite restaurants. Ten years of frivolous blame and self-loathing. Ten years of sleepless nights and tired days. Ten years of preserved bedrooms in houses that had long since become broken homes. \n\nAs the train came to a stop at the end of the line, the teen stood up from his seat and approached the couple. He planted a soft kiss upon each of their foreheads, a kiss he knew they'd never feel. Through tear filled eyes he muttered his heartfelt plea, \"When will you ever forgive yourselves?\""
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edit: Ok, this is depresssing
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[WP] A couple meet again after 10 years.
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[
"Walking into the used bookstore he's greeted with the one lasting effect of their relationship - that feeling in his stomach no other woman has been able to produce. The frequent reminder of what his rose-coloured ignorance failed to take note of. His emotions have been spiralling downhill ever since he broke up with the most recent girl that failed to replicate that feeling. It wasn't her among the literature though, it was just a book that triggered the hurt. One of the dozens on the over-stacked shelf leaning towards the edge as if making its way to side of a bridge. Junot Diaz's *This Is How You Lose Her*. A gift from him that she immediately fell in love with, and the book his tattoo is from. \"The half life of love is forever\" makes an immortal imprint on the back his neck, the place her lips favoured most. He froze into place as he watched that figure with it's all too familiar grace walk from behind the counter towards his section. She reached up, pushed the book safely away from the ledge and turned to him with a withdrawn smile. \"Hello\".\n\n\n^My ^first ^post ^here.",
"\"Is that you?\"\n\n\"Oh. yeah. hey\" \n\n\"It's been a while, it's probably been...\"\n\n\"Ten years.\"\n\n\"Yeah I guess. Wow. Time flies.\"\n\n\"How've you been?\" \n\n\"Good. I've got two girls now. You remember that girl who worked at the coffeeshop? Yeah we.... What have you been up to?\"\n\n\"I'm so happy for you. Just, you know. Life.\"\n\n\"Life?\"\n\n\"I work at IBM now. So that's a change\"\n\n\"Oh. Well that's nice. Hey I gotta get going. Daycare ends soon.\"\n\n\"Oh okay. Well. Catch you later.\" \n\n\"Yeah. See you.\"\n\nHe paused. \n\n\"Wait. What are you doing tomorrow?\"\n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Anytime, really. Coffee? Lunch? We could catch up.\"\n\n\"That's be nice. Can I text you?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Yeah you can.\"\n\n",
"We were high school sweethearts. Prom, College, Graduation, Marriage and now our first child was on the way. We were every cloyingly sweet cliche that Hollywood so often fills theater seats with. But that was ten years ago.\n\nThe radio was louder than usual that day. It was slightly out of tune and I could hear the noise of the static mixed with the morning news. It seemed as though the radio was begging to be turned just a little bit to the left so I got up from the kitchen table and happily obliged. My toast was just a little burnt and my orange juice just a little too sweet. Maybe my my mind is trying to manufacture details and clues to what happened that day so I can put my broken life back together.\n\nShe called me a few minutes before lunch -\n\n\"Hi Sweetheart! \n\n...\n\n...\n\n...\n\nHello ! Can you hear me.\n\nThere was silence then sobbing and then wailing. She told me we lost our child and was inconsolable. I rushed home to see my beloved but I only saw an ashen impostor. Something in her had broken.\n\nWe tried hanging on to a semblance of normalcy; trying to forget and to lead a normal life but it was impossible. The years passed and we grew distant. We lay in the same bed but we might as well have been strangers. We tried to have children again but the scars from that day seemed to have cleaved a rift in our love that was deeper than just emotional.\n\nYesterday, ten years to the day, we adopted a beautiful baby girl. \nYesterday, ten years to the day, I met my wife again.",
"\"You've gotten...older.\"\n\nHe eyed her up and down as they sat in a quiet corner of his favorite bar. She was still as lovely as he remembered her at 19. But she was ten years older now. Ten years more mature, more refined; she carried herself in this proud but world weary way that fascinated him. What had she been up to this past decade? Where had she gone? What had she seen? Did she ever get married? There was no ring on her finger, but something about her figure said she might have had a child, maybe two. The auburn red hair of her youth had returned to her natural brown/blond; her larger figure that had always been a source of self-consciousnesses for her, had developed into this picturesque hourglass figure; she seemed comfortable in her own body, at last. \n\nHe could be wrong of course, he'd been wrong before. He was wrong that they'd get back together, wrong that they'd keep in touch, wrong that she'd be the only girl he'd ever want. He was wrong about a lot of things with her actually. And in the decade since their last meeting, he had learned what it meant to be wrong, and it had tempered his behavior somewhat. Now, he watched and observed, and made mental notes of important things said and done in his life. He wouldn't be wrong again, not if he could help it.\n\n\"And You've gotten fat\", she said over her glass of wine. He laughed, hard and genuine, slapping his beer gut a few times patronizingly. He forgot, he was older now too. The goatee he could barely grow at 20 was now a fully fledged beard, wild and unkempt. The scrawny 165lb boy had grown into a stoutly man of 225lbs, relaxed and retired into the habits and customs of his daily life: beer and bread, and a modest career as a writer. He still had those same eyes that caught her attention years ago. And his smile, so kind and sincere; it made her wonder why she left him.\n\n\"I have enjoyed good food and drink over the years\" he said as he took a sip of his porter \"It's refined my pallet a little bit\".\n\n\"and the pleasant company?\" she asked\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"When we were younger, you said there were only three things you could only hope for in your life: Good food, good drink and pleasant company. What about the third?\" She ran a finger around the rim of her wine glass, sizing him up; taking a measure of what his response would be. He stared off for a moment, took another sip of his beer before finally turning back to her smirking.\n\n\"Who's to say I haven't had it?\" He dodged the question, and he knew it.\n\n\"Because this is you we're talking about\"\n\n\"you don't know what you're talking about.\"\n\n\"It's been ten years Erik. And while some things change,\" she gestured to herself smiling \"other things stay the same\".\n\n\"Like you never being wrong?\" He chided, taking another sip of his beer. Likewise, she took a sip of her wine. She was digging for something, he could tell. Validation perhaps, that she was right to leave him all those years ago. \n\n--------------------\n\nGot to go to work, but I want to try and come back and finish this. Please enjoy in the meantime!",
"There she was, shopping in the same mall as me. I couldn't believe it. The thought of her made my stomach turn. Ten years was too soon to see her again. I ducked into whatever store I was next to, I didn't care which so long as she didn't see me. Checking out my surrounding I find that its a store directed at teenagers, probably the ones that haven't mentally hit maturity yet but the looks of it.\n\nI didn't like the place, but it would buy me enough time to avoid her. Or so I thought.\n\n\"Jim? Jim Barrow? Is that you?\" I froze. Oh god she had found me. Not only did she find me, but she recognized me. I should of known she would shop in a shitty store like this. \n\nI slowly turn around to face her. Time had not treated her that well, the wrinkles in her face have become more prominent than ever. Her hair dyed to hide the undoubtedly white hair underneath. I couldn't say a word.\n\n\"Oh my Jim, how you have grown! I couldn't believe it was you, but I couldn't think of anyone else it could be!\" She seemed disgustingly cheerful.\n\nThere was only one thing I could say to her. One word. \"Pedophile.\" With that I turn from my old grade school teacher and walk away.",
"It was weird, because I remember writing the note he pushed across the table to me. I remember how I wrote that I loved him, and that I understood why he had to leave, and if he ever wanted to, he could come back again and we'd pick up the pieces. I looked at my old handwriting, at the shaky letters I knew came from my tears. I remember the perfume I had sprayed on it, hoping the smell would make him miss me, and how I folded it up in the pocket of the sweater I returned to him a week later. And I remember how I almost forgot about that note and that sweater, because I tried to forget everything afterward. I tried and I tried and I tried.\n\nI didn't know what to say. There we were, sitting in the same coffee shop where I first realized I loved him, but ten years later. Ten years. I wanted to cry and kiss him and tell him to fuck off all at the same time. It took him ten years to realize that he wanted to be with me? And then what? He would just leave again when he felt like it? \n\nI put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. I tried to find the right thing to say to the man who was in both my dreams and my nightmares.",
"*this is my first post, but please be as critical as you like*\n\n-----\n\nWe locked eyes across the room at the birthday party of a mutual friend. She smiled briefly as I stared incredulously in her direction, my mind exploding with memories of our past. She began to wander in my direction and my heart started pounding at my ribcage, just urging itself out and back into her possession. My eyes were darting around the room looking for an exit, I had to get away from her. \n\nI didn't expect this. I didn't *need* this. \n\n\"Jack!\" she exclaimed \"How have you been?\". \n\nI stared into those eyes of hers, lost as I once was but this time with a pain and anguish of horrific proportions. I wanted to tell her the truth. I wanted to tell her of the pain I had endured, the depression, and the self doubt. It all began bubbling up in my throat, but it just wouldn't come out. I squeezed out a weak \"ok, thanks\" and managed to excuse myself. \n\nI hate that I feel like this. \n\nI hate that I don't hate her. \n\nIt had been 10 years. \n\nI left, utterly defeated. ",
"She is just as silent as she used to be. It bothered me back then to the point of infuriation, but now it's something I can enjoy. Hell, my life hasn't been at all the same since the day when we said goodbye ten years ago. Now that I'm back with her though I feel slightly more of the man I once was. As if I've been reunited with a part of my soul that felt so lost before. I don't know how she feels about me being here now. I don't know if she can even feel now. I want her to be proud of me. I want her to say that I had the courage to come back. But a headstone can't talk, and a headstone can't feel. Yet a headstone can make me talk, it can make me feel, and it made me come to it to say a final goodbye. A proper one this time. No hospitals sounds, no crying children, just a proper, quiet goodbye."
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It can be any historical battle (recent or ancient), told from any perspective, and the enemy can do anything (positive or negative) as long as it's unexpected. What the enemy does doesn't have to line up with history (ex. the Nazis suddenly hand over Hitler to the Allies).
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[WP] During combat in a real historical battle, the enemy suddenly does something completely unexpected
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[
"It was the third day of battle with the Yanks, general Pickett was tired of being picked apart, He was tired of General lee doing nothing while the confederate forces slowly waned. the soldiers were far from home, trapped in the north, yearning for the home woods of Richmond. \"Alright boys lets go, we're gonna give them yanks a little taste of some Dixie steel\" His proclamation was granted with a roar of approval as the men moved into position. they men where ready, the trumpet blared as they marched towards cemetery ridge. They enemy stood, started to rustle in response, blue waves moving. right as they reached the base of the hill, the firing began. men started to fall left and right, but still they surged forward. the soldiers saw a break in the enemy lines, they charged for it, the union lines were breaking! they were almost at the top now, almost to the gap when they would begin to route the enemy. Then a trumpet blew, the men's jaws dropped at the sight, over the ridge came a creature none of the men had ever laid eyes on. it stood as tall as a house, trumpeting as it swung its trunk and tusks, with union soldiers riding on its back. The elephant charged toward us, with 11 others in tow, fanning out. there wasn't time to sound the retreat, they were already upon them, this is how Dixie died\n\n\nbased on the fact that the Siamese emperor offered war elephants to Abraham Lincoln (this battle was the battle of Gettysburg, specifically Pickett's charge.)",
"On the 7th day of battle, Xerxes emerged from his vast army. Flanked by rows of his Immortals, the God-King of Persia strode forth with supreme confidence. His offer was simple, to spare the soldiers of Sparta and to recruit them for his war. Previous entreaties had failed, offers of wealth and women rejected, even threats to their families and homes had been scoffed at.\n\nAt this point, it was a mere formality for Xerxes to offer terms of surrender again. The thought of the impending battle put a slight spring in Xerxes' step, perhaps he might capture the flippant King of Sparta and bring his head back home upon a spear.\n\nThus, it was with great surprise that Xerxes saw that Leonidas was already waiting for him, flanked by his own Spartan elite. While the Persian had been engaging in debauchery and gluttony in the back lines, the Spartan had been contemplating the survival of Sparta. Leonidas had weighed the arguments on both sides, honor versus survival, and he had found honor to be sorely lacking.\n\nWith that momentous decision, Sparta turned on its Greek brothers and put them to the sword. The feared Spartan armies became the vanguard of the Persian conquest, hell-bent on earning their keep in the God-King's new empire."
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Any setting, any time, any rank.
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[WP] The final battle is over. The war ends. And you have lost.
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[
"The smoke begins to settle, but the stinging in his eyes has not cleared. He blinks, attempting to regain his vision, attempting to find clarity in a world of vague forms and blurred borders. \n\nAround him are thousands of men, dead and alive, dust-coated shells of what they were just years before, now hollow Terracotta soldiers frozen in time. The colors of the uniforms are hidden by the fine layer of sediment that has fallen to coat the landscape. He sees neither enemies nor friends in these clouded silhouettes, just men, who, like him, are trying to make sense of the scene before them. None is made. There is no way to know who has won the battle, but he is certain that everyone lost the war. \n\nIt strikes him as funny, the futility of it all. His ears no longer ringing with gunfire, his heart void of adrenaline, it became easy to recognize the meaninglessness of what he was, quite literally, willing to fight and die for just minutes before. This moment of clarity and lucid thought, of serenity following chaos, was not meant to last, however. \n\nA breeze blows in from the sea, and as it moves on to its next destination, it takes much of the dust with it. He blinks twice, three times. He can once more make out the decorated blue and white of his enemies’ uniforms, but, to his surprise, sees none dressed like himself standing with them. ",
"She let go of my hand.\n\nI tried to hold on to hers, but it just slipped away. This is the moment where I fell, and I shattered before I even touched the ground. The million pieces of me just flew away like she was the only thing holding me together.\n\nI had lost. I had lost everything, I had lost her. The battle was over. She let go. Never had I felt such a sharp pain in my chest, like she had just stabbed me and carved her name in my entrails. \n\nShe *was* the only thing holding me together. Through it all, through my mistakes and hers, she held me so tight all my pieces were glued back together, or so I though. Because now, as she let go of me without a second though, I was scattered all around the Earth, a piece staying with her, all the others just flying in the wind. \n\nWe had fought. We had fought against the world, against ourselves, among ourselves. I thought she would never give up. I would've never given up if she'd stayed with me. But it was over. It was finished. I was finished, laying on the ground, dead.\n\nI reached out to her. I tried to grab her arm. She shook me off and continued walking. I fell to my knees, my arm still extended towards her.\n\n\"Don't leave me! Don't leave! I need you! Please!\"\n\nShe kept walking.\n\n\"Please! I love you! I love you so goddamn much! Nobody can ever love you as much as I do! Don't do this to me baby! I can't live without you!\"\n\nShe stopped, but didn't turn around. My own heart stopped, time stopped, everything stood still during this second of silence that felt like it was extending until eternity. \n\n\"Don't.\"\n\nShe made another step.\n\n\"You're everything.\"\n\nIt sounded more like a whimper than a word.\n\nShe never looked at me again. She just kept on walking. Maybe she walked until she got home, or maybe she never stopped. I don't know. I'll never know.\n\nI collapsed and crawled a little further towards her. I let my forehead rest on the cold sidewalk.\n\nI lost. I lost the battle, the war is over. But the worst part of it all, is losing myself.",
"The echoes of screams reverberated through the halls. The clamor of steel smashing on steel rung through the halls of my throne room.\n\nWe stood barricaded behind its large doors; I stood farthest back behind my twenty men sworn to protect my life. *\"now we see what those oaths are worth\"* \n\n--Boom! Boom!\n\nThe crashing of the ram shook the halls. Each hit the door took sunk my heart to the depths of my being. Every splinter shook my resolve.\n\nMy eyes darted around the room searching for something to steel me. What I found was my young squire, not much younger than me, but much smaller. His shield almost covering his entire body length and his spear twice his size. His armor rattled as he trembled in place.\t\n\nHis eyes darted around until they met mine, and he gazed at me as if looking for reassurance. At that moment I knew I had doomed his life, through no fault of his own his life was now forfeit. My hand tightened around my blade.\n\nWith a resounding crack the doors gave way as scores of men poured into my hall. A bolt pierced my squire's ill fitting armor as he crumpled to the ground. As I turned to retaliate I realized my twenty men had been reduced to a handful in a matter of seconds. There was no hope.\n\nMy enemies stood in front of me, weapons trained on me. At any moment anyone of them could lop my head off my shoulders. \n\nThe men stood at alert as a man swaggered into my throne room, his armor heavily designed. His shield and sword painted with the blood of my men. He knelt over a corpse, stared for a few seconds and shook his head disapprovingly.\n\n\n\"My brother would have been proud of the man you have become, young prince\" his voice like the sound of two stones grating across each other. \"But the child's play is over, we wouldn't want anymore bloodshed\" he said, pointing his blood stained sword at my squire who laid in the fetal position sobbing with a bolt protruding his shoulder.\nThe grip on my blade had tightened even more, I felt warm blood slowly dripping down my closed fist. Slowly I pulled out my sword and fell to one knee.\n",
"\"General John Hayes\" Ellen McIntyre urged. \"You're last stronghold is Australia. I will have over 50,000 troops landed in New Zealand by the morrow. Surrender now and avoid further bloodshed.\"\n\nJohn sighed. He studied the map. The war was lost the moment he lost the battle for Asia. Time to surrender graciously. Or...\n\n\"You underestimate me, General McIntyre.\" John smiled. \"There's always... the nuclear option.\"\n\n\"You wouldn't\" Ellen hissed. \"You'll kill everyone! You madman.\"\n\n\"JUST WATCH ME.\" John screamed\n\nAnd that's when he flipped the RISK board, scattering all the pieces on the ground.\n",
"\"What are you doing?\" She asked with a terrifying look. Her blouse covered in blood of the soldier that lay on the bed between. Her hands shaking, breath short, shoulders low.\n\n\"I'm surviving.\" I explained, removing the knife from my holster and placing it on the ground next to me. \"It's over.\" \n\nHer breathing stopped. A glaze consumed her eyes as she now looked past me to the canvas tent behind me. I don't know whether to console her or leave her be. I could see the blood leave her face as I stare at who once was a woman I loved. \n\nThe next few minutes passed by for days, hearing the distant sound of gunfire and cannons slowly diminish to the silence of the woods around us. Calming was the wind pushing through the budding branches of Spring, but different from when I heard it last. What once felt like freedom now felt as if it wasn't mine. I no longer owned the breeze, but now lived a life that could no longer be.\n\nI close my eyes, stealing these last few moments of the past as they dissipated into what was now the reality. All we've fought for, all we were, now a memory, now a blur. \n\nLooking down, the soldier slowly opens his eyes, now looking at me. His face also drained of blood which now lay on Mary's blouse. A blank expression of what can only be described as fear, confusion, and loneliness. I slowly reach for his hand, of which I place mine to comfort in his final breaths. I struggle in my mind with what to say. \n\n\"...You've fought for what you thought what right. And for that...\"\n\nLost in his fear, and the overbearing understanding that this will be the last words he hears, I look up to Mary. Her eyes still fixated on the same point as if it were holding the last bit of hope.\n\n\"...and for that you have not been defeated.\"\n\nA single tear emerges from his expressionless eyes and face, leaving a trail that reveals his skin from the blood and the dirt. \n\nThrough sadness shall we be cleansed. A life renewed in the rubble of hopes and beliefs we leave behind.\n\n"
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Be as creative as you want. This is hardly a serious prompt.
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[WP] In an alternate universe, internet arguments are resolved through colonial era battles.
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[
"\"I stand before you, dear warriors of Reddit, not as a commentor, but as a free Redditor! Today, we must fight to uphold the truth - to allow justice to reign free. For across this plain lies our enemy - he dares to consider that which can tear us apart; that Neil Patrick Harris is NOT as good as he thinks he is! I say, blasphemy! \n\nNPH is an icon of stage and screen. No work of his has ever been fouled by his presence. \"How I Met Your Mother\" would have died in the first 10 episodes without him. Who amongst us would have considered watching the Tony awards if he was not host? And this imposter, this fiend who calls himself \"boob_luver_69\" would **DARE** to sully his good name? This man is nothing more than a troll. And trolls belong underneath bridges - in other words, below the feet of NPH!\n\nGather yourselves men, for he is protect by his fellow trolls and their downvotes will ensure that not all of us will see this through. But united, we can stem this abomination, and force him back into the silence of the hereafter. For truth, for justice, for NPH, **UNITE!**\"",
"\"Alright boys, there's nuthin clean about this one. *UnicornFaggot* and *DooshHazard* gave *ponyponypony* the old fuck-you-in-the-Jesus and it's kickin up a shitstorm. We've got three battalions of anti-theists comin in from the south, and our scouts tell us they're picking up rogue agnostics along the way - could be as many as five battalions when they reach this basin here. Eastward the Apologist Cavalry is riding hard, but they're two days out at best. Looks like the Christian Vanguard is gonna have to hold out till then. We're on troll duty, and our orders are to kill on sight. Keep low, stay out of the heavy shit, and you might come out alright. Any questions?\"\n\nPrivate Collinsworth flopped a hand up. The sergeant shook his head.\n\n\"Goddammit, Collinsworth.\"\n\n\"Sir! How do we distinguish between the troll and the sincerely ignorant, sir!?\"\n\nThe company grumbled. Someone knocked Collinsworth's cap from his head. The sergeant maintained his cool at the cost of three pints of sanity. He said,\n\n\"One of them looks like you, fucknugget. The other one is green and seven feet tall.\""
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[WP] Write the most philosophical thought you have about humanity, life, existence in two sentences.
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"So small, so fragile, so innocent and insignificant and invisible to not only the universe but to others of our own kind. Yet, despite the outside forces that ignore us, we as individuals can think, feel, understand, and take a moment in the illusion of time to observe ourselves, granting us the ability to realize the one idea that makes all other things powerless: \"I exist\"."
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[WP] As if summoned from nothingness a DeLorean comes skidding to a halt in front of you. The gull wing door opens and an old Marty McFly steps out. He says, "She's yours now kid..." and flips you the keys.
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"Jesus Christ! This can't be happening...is...is he for real? I mean that does look like Marty McFly, so it's gotta be him, right?\n\nHe's already walked off while I've been standing here like an idiot for who knows how long. I hop in excitedly.\n\n\"It's here! It's all here! The cool doors, the Flux Capacitor, this thing! Wow! This is heavy!\" I laugh at my wit and close the doors. I drive to a quieter area, trying to think of what to do first.\n\n\"All of time...where to go? Kill Hitler? No, no, that's so cliche.\" I sit there for a second, overwhelmed. \"Wait, so if this is real...does that mean that *all* the events of the movie were real?\" I'm not sure, all I know is that I can cash all this out for some serious Karma on Reddit once I get back home. \n\nWell, luckily I just happen to live where Back to the Future was filmed. I punch in October 26, 1985, the day Marty left in the movie. Which of course I remember. \n\nI build up speed...75...80...88! BAM! Colors flash through the windows, and before I know it, it's dark out. I'm at the mall. I get up, look around, take in a deep breath. I look out over the parking lot and...nothing...\n\n\"Crap...Well maybe if I go back to when they filmed that scene I can find something.\" I take my phone out, try to search for the date I need on Google. Of course, no service. It's '85. How'd people live like this? I hop back in the DeLorean, pick up speed, and am back in the present.\n\nI search for a while, and finally get the date. I race down the road again, and as I arrive in the past, I can see a film crew set up the parking lot. \n\n\"Well if they're still filming, and Marty isn't in where he was in the movie...there can be only one explanation. A crazy person from the future who has an affinity for 80's movies has gifted me a time machine.\" \n\nA statement perhaps more ludicrous than \"Marty McFly gave me his DeLorean.\" I stroke my hair and pace back and forth, not sure what to do now. \n\n\"Well, I know where NOT to go, definitely don't want to run into my Mom...\" I shudder. \"Well I mean I guess I should check out the future. Maybe find some more out about this time travel stuff. BTF and The Time Machine all in one...This day can't get any stupider.\"",
"I fumble for the keys, and they fall to the ground. Dammit. I've always been pretty shit with sports, and now I'm cringing as I pick up the keys, innocuous despite what they open, the potential of them. McFly is looking at me, and I swear for a second he looks like he regrets the decision to give the keys to me. \n\nFuck that.\n\nI can be cool. I hop up a little, throwing the keys into the air, ready to catch them behind my back with my other hand, an impressive feat, but the keys go a little too forward, I try to twist farther to my left, allowing for my right hand to snake around my back and actually grab them, but I'm moving forward too fast, and my stupid, big feet are finding no purchase, and I'm suddenly falling as the keys twist in the air, and I'm looking straight ahead at sharp edge of.. The gull wing door opens and an old Marty McFly steps out. He says, \"She's yours now kid...\" and flips me the keys.\n\nI fumble for the keys, and they fall to the ground.",
"Matt held the keys in his tiny, feminine hands. Thoughts raced through his head. Where do I go first, he thought. Paris? Rome? No, the question wasn't where. It was when. 1976, 1881, 2012, 1400, the options were endless! Matt squeezed his tiny, girlish frame into the driver's seat, turned the key and let out a sharp, high-pitched cry. The car wouldn't start."
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[WP] A woman sees sunlight for the first time in over a decade
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"She lay on the rock. Feeling the gentle breeze caress her face. How strange, she thought. How strange that she knew exactly where to look. After all these years, she simply knew, with final certanity where she was meant to look, soley trusting instinct alone. \nThe sky was pale with the faintest trace of the cold and wonderfull stars. She felt the proximity of the moment. The quiet, the stillness of nature itself, the only ones who would lay witness of the moment which was closer and closer. A moment that she would meet with an eased mind, a serene state of being. She was not afraid, nor did she feel a rising excitment born within her. No, she only felt calm and ready. And suddenly she sensed it. A pause. A change in the air. Everything stopped. And then...\nThe whiteness, the golden haze, of a burning star. The warmth, almost lovingly reaching her eyes, exclaiming \"Ah, there you are\". She looked away, her arm acted as a shield of such enormity, of so much light, growing stronger and vaster.\nHow could man be fooled in to believing that he could create light of his own? When did they believe that they were an equal match?\nFor what is the relationship of man and the Sun if not the appreciation of its state, its being, so close to the mystery of life and so infinitely distant from us. And as she took it all in, the only thought that danced in her mind, crying out as if in a eureka moment, was that in the nature of this estranged planet also lay the gift of light, of warmth, and the beauty of giving it life by observing it alone. By being there, by being here.\n\n**Im not overly fond of this writing, but I wanted to try.\n\n",
"The slight shudders and shivers, the distant, arrythmic booming and banging sounds, the sussurus of whispers and creaks and twitches in the night of those she was housed with, of they all melded together into one cohesive sound. Once, when she was younger she liked to pretend she lived inside the gut or artery of some great beast, its warm, glowing insides cradling her to sleep every night since her tenth birthday.\n\nTwo hours ago the beast died in its sleep.\n\nThe lack of noise was deafening to her. Having been with it for so long, she stumbled and fell face-first onto the dirt floor. She was not the only one. She noticed the old rations-distributor simply keel over from the shock of it, his expression of slight dismay in contrast with the clawed hand over his chest.\n\nImmediately a town meeting was called. Was this a ploy by the Others to lure them out? It wouldn't be the first time they had done so. Had they finally given up and returned to the world from whence they had come? Unlikely; Earth, though ravaged, still had much to offer to her extraterrestrial rapists. So many questions, so little answers.\n\nFinally, a team was assembled, a lottery of twelve men and women, to scuttle through the old, decade-old surface tunnel and see what lay outside. Nobody was in doubt of the outcome if the Others were still out there. The memory of skin crackling, blood boiling, and flesh sizzling under the alien pillars of light that decimated their race was still strong in the minds of man. Everyone knew it was a dangerous mission, likely fatal should they fail. \n\nShe cried with joy when she was chosen. \n\nFinally, for the first time since she was ten would she be able to smell fresh air again! To feel the warmth and heat of the sun on her pale skin, to hear the whisper of wind between the blades of grass, and hear things growing in the earth. Such small things to her a decade ago, easily found. Now, nothing remained of them but pale memories of memories, stored in the dusty recesses of her mind.\n\nShe was the youngest, the most courageous. The most foolhardy. She was the first one through the slit in the two-ton hatch, throwing caution to the winds. \n\nThe last thing she saw was a brilliant white light.\n\n",
"Hosanna had been a young girl when the apocalypse began. It had been a long time in coming, Father would say. The world was unclean and full of sin. It was a dark and soiled place where the virtuous were torn to pieces by mobs of heretics and heathes. Sin was a cancer, and from it the world must be purified.\n\nThe small log cabin where Hosanna lived with Mother and Father had been her castle. The meadows stretched onward unto the deep forest’s edge. There were no roads there, only forests and game trails where Father would track deer for their food. Mother and her would work the farmland in the meadow and pick berries in the forests. They would prepare dinner while Father prepared the fire, and then they set down to the feast of their hard work, blessed by God.\n\nThey would pray before and after. Mother would teach Hosanna to read from the Bible and feel the truth in the stories therein. It was one of her fondest memories, nestled in Mother’s lap and covered by a quilt, fingers trained on the faded, aged leather book, sounding out the truth by the fireside. Sometimes, Father would read and Hosanna would sew and knit.\n\nHosanna knew no greater happiness than her humble life in the arms of God. \n\nHowever, the apocalypse came, and as God cleansed the world, Father, Mother, and her needed to hide. They went beneath their pretty log cabin to the bunker Father had built before she was born. It was a small little room, its walls covered by strange, smooth gray stone that Father called concrete. The floor was earth, however, and Hosanna clung to that as the only remainder of her happy days above. Hidden inside the room were metal-covered food that came from the days before Mother and Father escaped sin. \n\nIt was so strange to live below in the darkness, lit only occasionally by a gas lamp that father had also brought from the sinful cities beyond their home. Gone were Hosanna’s meadows and forests. Gone was the sunlight and wind that would chase through Hosanna’s hair. Gone was the fireside where Hosanna could spend her evenings. There was nothing left of dank air, cold chill, and the truth.\n\nMother became pregnant. God had chosen to give her life. Father declared the child to be the savior, a sign that God would stop the apocalypse and they could return to the surface, as soon as the child was born. \n\nHosanna was so happy. She would dance around Mother and whisper hymns to the savior insides. She cut up all of the softest of her dresses to make small garments of the savior, leaving only the rough woolen dresses for her own use. \n\nHosanna didn’t mind though. She would have her meadows once more, and where flowers and clover bloomed. \n\nSomething went wrong. The savior came too early, but he wasn’t a savior at all. In a burst of blood, he killed Mother. \n\nFather buried Mother in the earth beneath their feet with the child who wasn’t the savior.\n\nGod had taken them to heaven, Father said. Hosanna and he weren’t ready. Mother had been purified of sin, but Father and Hosanna must wait and pray. \n\nYears passed, and Hosanna became a woman. Father began to treat her differently. His touches lingered and his kisses roamed. It was the way he had treated Mother.\n\nHosanna was very confused. She asked if Mother had been his daughter once as well. Father beat her for her impertinent words, and the touching stopped. Fists replaced kisses. Father said that she had become contaminated with sin and must be purified. Hosanna accepted her bruises as atonement for her sin. She had dishonored Father.\n\nFather became ill, and God took him as well. Hosanna buried her father near her mother and cried. Not for her parents, who she knew to be safe within the arms of God, but for her own tarnished soul. Father had not succeeded in purifying her. She had tried so very hard to be good, yet God had not yet seen fit to take her into his kingdom. Hosanna failed her parents, and now she was alone.\n\nHosanna prayed fervently and read the Bible until its pages were wearing to dust in her hands. She fasted until she was lightheaded and weak. Her thoughts did not stray from her desperate longing to please God. However, God did not come. \n\nGod did not want her, she realized. She was sinful. She needed to be cleansed from the earth. She needed to give herself up to the fire-ravaged surface of the earth where her fate would be the same as the rest of the sinners. She was no better than they. She did not deserve heaven. She needed hell.\n\nFor the first time in ten years, Hosanna stood on the stairs. Her hands shook. Her legs threatened to collapse, but this is what she needed to do. Each step was a trial, but she reached the door to the apocalypse outside. It was very heavy. Father had been so strong, he made it seem like it was made of air. She was just a weak sinner without the strength of God behind her. \n\nAll she had was her own strength, as fleeting as it was. She pushed hard, and then she fell forward into a cold light. \n\nIt was blinding and cold. She felt naked as a newborn babe in front of God’s all-seeing gaze. She cowered beneath it, shutting her eyes tight against the light that burned.\n\nThen, she opened her eyes. She saw white. She looked up and saw blue. The sky was a brilliant blue that stretched into eternity over a snow-covered forest. There was no hellfire, only snow, only a tender day of winter. \n\nShe stood, waiting for the illusion to crash around her. It was a trick of the devil. It must be for Father knew the truth, and she could not see it. \n\nShe stretched her hand out in front of her. It was almost the color of the snow at her feet, except the sunlight filtered through it, showing veins beneath its surface. The pale blue tendrils arched up her arm like lightening, revealed by the bright light of a sun she never thought she would see again. The hard scars of her atonement stood out on its surface, along with the softer scars of a forgotten childhood amongst sticks, stones, and trees, the selfsame one she now stood amongst. \n\nIt was all the same as she remember. \n\nThis was her meadow. This was her forest. This was her sun. It was all still here, alive and well.\n\nShe was alive. This wasn’t a dream or death. This was life. This was truth. Father did not have it, and neither did a book. The truth was outside, in the world, enlightened by the sun and strengthened by the wind. \n\nThere was no apocalypse. There was no God. There was only Hosanna. "
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Think of it as reverse amnesia
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[WP] You wake up from a coma and no one remembers you
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"As the glare of the fluorescent lights began to dissipate, the nurse’s face swam into focus.\n“Welcome back, Mr. Dorsett. We were all very worried. How are you feeling?”\n\nMy first impulse prodded me to answer the question the auburn-haired nurse asked, but my mind had wrapped itself around the name and wouldn’t let go. Odd, really, since it wasn’t mine.\n\n“Hang on a second, Nurse…” I fumbled for her name, but nothing rose to the surface that sounded familiar.\n\n“Abby. You can call me Abby, Mr. Dorsett.”\n\n*There was that name again. Why was she calling me that? Shouldn’t she know?*\n\n“I’m sorry, Abby, but you must have me confused with someone else,” I started, each word barely forcing itself around the title stuck to my throat. “My name is Matthew Sinclair.”\n\nShe gazed at me for a moment, the lack of clarity clearly marked by her furrowed brow and slightly open mouth. Then, something clicked and the confusion melted away just as quickly as it had come, replaced by twinkling eyes and a warm smile.\n\n“Of course it is, Mr. Sinclair, my mistake. With all the patients I see every day, I’m bound to screw up someone’s name eventually. You’ll have to forgive me.” She chuckled – the kind of belly laughter that yearns for reciprocation – and I couldn’t help but follow suit. Abby brushed a stray strand of hair from her cheek and asked, “Now, is there anything I can get you? A glass of water, perhaps, or maybe something to read?”\n\nI nodded vigorously to both, garnering another chuckle from the kind nurse.\n\n“Okay, you just sit tight and I’ll be right back, Mr. Sinclair.” As she turned to go, I cleared my throat. “Yes, Mr. Sinclair?”\n\n“Thank you, Abby.”\n\nAbby smiled. “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Sinclair.”\n\nShe left the room, making a beeline for the main desk, her brow furrowing once more. Dr. Jerrick looked up from his work as she stormed in, auburn hair more than a little out of place.\n“Arthur, why didn’t you tell me you were changing everything?!”\n\nDr. Jerrick held his hand up and Abby wisely fell silent. “All in good time, Miranda, all in good time. One little slip-up won’t jeopardize the operation. Mr. Sinclair still has a ways to go yet before he’s ready.” He looked her up and down, shaking his head solemnly. “You’d best not bring Abby by again; the man’s confused enough as it is.” Dr. Jerrick pulled a blonde wig from a box under the desk and presented it to his assistant. “Try Sandy. Oh, and try to be more assertive with his name this time, would you? It’s one of the few things I can’t plant.”\n\nNurse Sandy tossed the auburn wig at the doctor and donned her new, more assertive persona, pinning it in place more carefully this time.",
"When I awoke, I had the horrible feeling in my gut that I'd drank myself stupid last night, and the weak feeling of regret began to seep into the rest of me. With a sigh I stretched my arms outwards, and was surprised to touch a metal bar.\n\nIt was the sudden realisation that I had no idea where I was that shot adrenaline straight to my eyes. They sprang open and I was greeted with a plain white ceiling. A brief look around told me I was in hospital, and the memory of being in a car accident on the highway just outside town came back to me. With the accompanying headache, I eased my legs over the side of the bed and lowered myself slowly to the floor, testing my strength. The faint hum of machinery buzzed around me with the occasional blip coming from a nearby heart rate monitor.\n\nThe floor was cold beneath my feet, and the confusion began to strengthen in my head. I could swear it was summer? I spotted my clothes on the chair next to my bed, and proceeded to put them on in an almost lethargic manner. My muscles were slow... tight... like the morning after a lot of exercise, and if there was one thing I hadn't done recently, it was exercise.\n\nI begin to panic. I shouldn't feel like this. What happened to me? Why am I here? Where is everyone? I could hear the faint blip increasing in frequency and I realise that the beeping was MY heartrate. I turn my head to the machine and spot a piece of paper with some writing on it. I leaned over and grabbed the paper, it was my medical details. Only one thing stood out to me:\n\n**Name: Unknown**\n\nI could feel the panic coming back. I stood up and stumbled to the end of the bed. It was here a nurse greeted me\n\n\"Ah, you're awake!\"\n\n\"Yes... what happened?\"\n\n\"Well, you were in a car crash, a couple of scratches and some internal bleeding, but nothing we couldn't fix. You should sit down...\"\n\n\"No I'm fine... When was this?\"\n\n\"Almost 2 months ago\"\n\nNow I needed to sit down. Perched on the edge of the bed, I heard the nurse say something and walk quickly down the hall. I had to go. I had to see my family. What if something had happened to them? They must miss me!\n\nI staggered down the corridors, hunting down the exit signs and blindly following them until I reached the main reception. I suddenly noticed my thirst and looked for somewhere I could find some water. The toilets were the best option for my tired mind, as I clumsily made my way to the taps. Staring at my rugged face in the mirror I felt something in my pocket. Plunging my hands in, I felt the familiar leather feel of my wallet. Nothing will quite match the relief of finding some money and a picture of my family inside. Seeing my wife, son and baby daughter made me feel calmer. Everything will be okay.\n\nWith renewed strength, I walked outside and into the fresh air. A chilly bite was instantly noticeable, and I realised how right the nurse was: a lot of time had passed. I wonder how this might have affected my family, were they living on without me? Could they keep up the payments...?\n\nIt wasn't long before I found myself outside my own front door, and with the feeling of excitement growing within me, I walked up to my front door and stepped into my home.\n\n\"Lucy? John? Anyone home?\"\n\nI could hear some footsteps from the kitchen, directly in front of me. I made my way in that direction, and stepped into the warm glow of the kitchen. A slight smile crept onto my face as I spoke \"Hey beautiful\" to the slightly small, slender brunette at the sink. I wasn't however, expecting her to grab a knife from the sink and twirl round at me, with both a look of surprise and fear set firmly in her face\n\n\"Who are you!? What are you doing in my house?!\"\n\n\"It's... it's me! John! Your husband!\"\n\n\"I have no idea who you are. Get out of my house.\"\n\n\"This... but this is my house!\"\n\n\"LIAR! Get out my house before I call the cops\"\n\n\"But... but Lucy... I...\"\n\n\"ENOUGH! Get OUT of my house!\"\n\nI didn't know what else to do, so I backed out the kitchen and ran out the front door, hearing it close behind me as I darted down the path to the road. There, I turned around and looked back at my house.. my *home* and wondered... what on Earth had happened?"
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[WP] You are in charge of launching 15 ICBMs to the opposing country in an ogoing war. Before the launch, you change targets.
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"*Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!* i repeated in my head, rushing down the metal hallways at a fastening pace.\n\n**\"DEFCON 1' I REPEAT WE ARE AT DEFCON 1, ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL REPORT TO YOUR STATIONS\"** the words in a voice that would only speak in a calm and collective matter was now reduced to a shouting and worried man that was drunk, **\"GOD SAVE US ALL\"** he said, accompanied by a ear blistering siren and red blinding lights,\n\n\n\nI burst through my door to see my partner, he too was worried and his clean hair and smile was replaced with a greasy rat-nest and a infinite abyss of sadness.\n\n\n\n\"Alpha Zulu X-Ray Oscar November\" he said into the microphone and pointed to my seat, i began to say my passcode\n\n\"Quebec Mike Papa Kilo Sierra\" i said, the five words no one in the entire world would ever want to hear\n\n\n\nThe computer flashed a green screen with the white words of \"APPROVED\" \n\n\n\n\n\n\nwe took out our keys and counted down from 3 and pushed them through the key slots to unlock the buttons\n\n\n\n\"Is what we're doing right?\" my partner said, his voice cracking \"We could have stopped this\"\n\n\n\n\n\"We can't change the past but we can change the future\" i said, hoping he would find solice in my words, but we both knew that was a lie, they have already unleashed 300 MIRV ICBMs and we retaliated with 400 of our owns,\n\n\n\n\"This isn't right, we shouldn't do this, we are already going to lose, we shouldn't destroy the lives of millions when we know we're going to lose\" he said, breaking down into a silent sob, \n\n\n\"We aren't going to lose\" i said,\n\n\nHe wanted to say something but was cut off by the radio **\"EAGLE-2 WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? THE MISSILES SHOULD HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED BY NOW\"**\n\n\n\n\nI spoke for the both of us \"Personal problems\"\n\n\n\n\n**\"WELL FIX THEM, WE ARE BEING HIT BY THE FIRST WAVE-\"** the line went silent then a new voice\n\n\n\"Edward\" that was my name, the voice sounded of a old man with a smoking and drinking problem, my partner looked at me\n\n\"I'm Calling in a favor\" he continued \"Sorry about the timing, i know its bad and all, \" he said a string of number and my body lost control, \n\n\n\n\n\nI woke up, my partner with two gun wounds, his brain and his heart, the burning tip of my gun in my lap with less weight than before, i panicked and looked at my computer\n\n\n\n\n\n1)~~SHANGHAI~~ Austin\n\n\n\n\n2)~~Shenezen~~ Dallas\n\n\n\n3)~~Guangzhou~~ Anchorage\n\n\n\n\n4)~~Tianjin~~ San Diego\n\n\n\n\n5)~~Hong Kong~~ San Francisco \n\n\n\n\n\n6)~~Moscow~~ Washington D.C.\n\n\n\n7)~~Pyongyang~~ Seoul\n\n\n\n\n8)~~Helsinki~~ Stockholm\n\n\n\n9)~~Hanoi~~ Honolulu \n\n\n\n\n10)~~Berlin~~ London\n\n\n\n11)~~Caracas~~ Panama City\n\n\n\n12)~~Warsaw~~ Cairo\n\n\n\n13)~~Teran~~ Kuwait City\n\n\n\n\n14)~~Baghdad~~ Athens\n\n\n\n\n15)~~Damascus~~ Paris\n\n\n\n\n\n*Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck* i said in my mind, i tried changing but i was met with the message **\"ALL MISSILES LAUNCHED\"**\n\n\n\n\n\ni just now noticed the radio\n\n\n\n\n\"EAGLE-2 WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!\" the man said, i saw no way out of this mess, i was reminded of the hot sensation of the barrel of my gun,"
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[WP] Alone, hungry, and cold while trudging through knee-high snow in the dark forest, you spot a shimmering light through the thick overgrowth..
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"Hours I've been walking, to no end. When I awoke in the deathly still, heavy winter air, I had no memory of where I was or the events leading up to my appearance there. \n\nI was wearing clothes I didn't recognise- thick, warm clothes covered all of my body, except my face. My eyelashes had crusted, and I felt frozen tears on my cheeks. There was no sign of tracks anywhere about the small clearing that gradually revealed itself as my vision unblurred. \n\nI resolved to start moving. I couldn't stay still, not in that weather. It was dark, but I didn't think it was night yet, it just didn't feel right. My suspicions were confirmed when, after several hours of trudging my way through the thick snow I noticed my surroundings darkening further. \n\nI continued through the dark, unwavering. I did not feel hunger or thirst, nor fatigue beyond the mental toll taken by the monotony of the journey. I grew restless, and agitated. I realised I hadn't seen or heard any sign of life since before I woke up. \n\nI sat on a fallen rotted trunk, and rummaged through the pockets of the heavy jacket I was wearing. I found a whistle, some crumbled crackers and a watch. The face read 3:30, but it took me some moments to notice the hands weren't moving. I turned it over, and tried to pry off the back panel with the fingers of my right hand, freshly ungloved. No success. My fingernails had been trimmed recently, I noticed. I scratched my jaw. Shaved. I thought that was odd, I usually wore a short beard. I pulled the glove back onto my right hand.\n\nFrustrated at my confusion and feeling reckless, I blew the whistle. A silver small thing, it made no sound. I half expected birds to flutter out of the thick forest branches in alarm, but nothing happened. \n\nAnd here I sit, on this log, wondering about my curious circumstances. Tired of sitting, I get to my feet. I look at my tracks and turn the opposite direction. I may as well keep going straight, I figure. But wait- what's that? A warm yellow light, poking through the treetops! \n\nI'm reminded of starlight, but larger and closer at hand than stars. The light is so close that in my delirium I reach out to stroke it, but pull my arm back promptly. *I'm not mad yet,* I think to myself.\n\nI've got no choice but to follow it. Any other indication of *anything* happening in the last few hours had completely escaped me. The light is distinctly angled in front and to the right of the direction my path had been headed. I make no hesitation in altering my course to follow the brilliant sentinel. \n\nI haven't been walking again for very long before the trees begin grower further apart and with thinner trunks. I barely take note; I am fixated on the light. It disappears briefly every so often but it always comes back to me, persisting through the overgrowth above. I feel my legs stepping further down with each step, and draw my eyes from the light towards my feet. There's a definite decline. The snow is thinner here too, my feet fall far more readily through the white blanket upon the floor. \n\nAnd then I see- in front of me- it's me! I'm staring right at myself! I see a large, geometric snowflake fall between us. I look up, and see I have left the confines of the forest. High above me, the warm light shines, brighter and more intense than I've seen it yet. I momentarily forget the shock of my twin and search desperately for a way to reach it. In my excitement I look back over myself, and catch my second head moving the same way mine did. It's a reflection. \n\nI reach out and touch myself. My reflection's hand is cool and smooth. I feel a subtle curve as we press our palms to the glass that separates us. We look up. I can see the entire forest reflected at an odd angle. It seems... I'm trapped under a hemisphere!\n\nAll of a sudden I realise. \n\nOh shit. \n\nI'm in a snow globe. \n\n-------------------------\n\nThis is my first submission, be nice :-)\n\nMerry Christmas!",
"Loving silence was my greatest sin. Anything and everything that could be done to achieve that ponderous, melancholy emptiness had been already. Tonight was no different, having left my wife and children behind in the cabin for an endless journey into the snow-packed forest. The peaks of the mountains sucked the wind out of the valley expertly, letting the flakes trickle down in their own time, kissing my skin with icy lips. My empty stomach was of no consequence; I would gorge myself on the abyss.\n\nRunning my gloved hand across the petrified bark of the trees made me feel disconnected from them, so they fell to the snow in the imprint of my boots. Those would have been removed, too, if the drifts weren't halfway up to my thighs. The fluff of the top layer of fresh fallen snow was light and powdery but bitterly cold, and I had miles to go at least.\n\nAhead, there was the break in the trees that nature had carved out just for me so many years ago. The drifts were high enough now that I could access the split in the biggest tree in the forest, called the Father Tree, and continue onward. In the summer this yawning gap was impossible to get through because of how high up it was and how narrowly the branches widened. This was considered the edge of the wood, the turning point of any hunting trip or hike. But now, with the snow bolstering my steps, clearing the old oak was as easy as it was to dodge its smaller offspring.\n\nWell on my way to oblivion though I was, I took a moment to survey the scene below, bracing myself against the thickly intertwined and darkly gnarled branches. The valley opened up here, spreading itself wide to accomodate the enormous natural lake dropped in its lap. My breath came in short, rasping gasps. My frozen fingers danced in the grooves of the Father Tree. The entirety of the lake was frozen, an occurrence that had not been replicated since the time of my great-grandfather. They said it was too warm nowadays, that the forest was rejecting its new residents and refusing them passage to whatever lay on the other side of the vast, ocean-like divide. Was this my chance?\n\nA brilliant light blinded me so suddenly that when I moved my hand to shield my eyes I lost my balance and toppled forward, spinning down the drifts with dizzying and freezing speed. I came to rest at the shore of the frozen lake, my boots sitting at the very edge. I tried to move them, and a crack split the ice straight to the center. Hundreds of other splinters spiraled off from this central rift. From the air I could have seen the intricate design of the Holies, so ancient and forgotten that I might not have recognized it.\n\nThere was a swell in the middle of the lake, a bubble forming, shielded by the thick layers of ice. Everything was so still I could hear my brain trying to make sense of what was going on, all firing neurons and electrical pulses. The bubble burst without warning, and that blinding light reappeared. I caught sight of wings, gilded and silent, before my mind was separated from my body and all I knew was the absolute silence of eternity."
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[WP] Write the inner thoughts of a drug addict. Throw in a twist at the end.
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"The clock! No, not the clock, you idiot, it was your grandma's, they would kill you. Ok, ok, they will be back any moment now, think!! That old camera, they don't use it anymore, not since our last holiday together! Where... Where was it? Fuck, the cabinet, always in the cabinet. Why do they have to lock it? I mean it's not like someone is going to break in and steal our stuff, Jesus... Focus man, focus! Just one more thing, they wont notice, they never do. Not even when it was my turn to be noticed. Why the fuck am I thinking of that now? It was years ago, stupid school play... What would have mattered if they had seen me anyway, I played a fucking fish. Shit, fuck, i need to find something. Just this more, just one more hit. What they don't care about in this house? There's nothing left, i took it all already. There must be one more thing, just one... Something that was here for a long time... Someth... Fuck... There is one more thing.\n\n\n\n..................... \nHey, first entry to /r/WritingPrompts !! English is not my first language so, sorry if i screwed something up. Tell me what you think! \nedit: grammar, punctuation ",
"I'm not an addict, addicts need rehab. I can quit this any time I want, I don't need it. I just choose not to, Derrick thought to himself as he sparked his lighter, bringing it to his pipe for the third time since his shift started that day. This would be the fifth time since this morning, the fifteenth time this week, and today was only Tuesday. \"It's been a rough week, my bags getting empty too fast,\" he thought to himself as he felt that warm rush wash over him. Just a little bit to take the edge off, just enough to get through this shift at this shit job. \"Hell, I don't need this job anyways, I'm just doing this for fun money.\" His thoughts were interrupted as the door to the bathroom opened. Fuck! Didn't I lock it? \"Derrick, you in here? You alright?\" He could hear the shuffling of feet as his boss walked towards the stall. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Busted! Think fast man, think fast! Derrick sat down on the toilet as quietly as he could, gently placing his feet against the stall door. \"Hey, what's that smell?\" A strong, acrid, chemical odor permeated the air. Usually, Derrick would take a couple quick tokes, stash his peice, and douse the bathroom with air freshener, hang out for a couple minutes and let it air out, brush his teeth, and casually stroll out of the bathroom like it was no big deal. Don't act suspicious, no one will suspect anything. Rules to live by. He'd been using the excuse of a stomach bug, constipation, incontinence, but deep down, he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. \n\n\"I know you're in there Derrick. Stop playing games with me, open the god damned door.\"\n\nFuck. What now? \n\n\"I know what you're doing in there. You know damn well this is a drug free workplace. Open the fucking door before I call the cops on your sorry ass.\" He sounded pissed. Guess he had reason to be mad. Don't open the door Derrick, don't give him the satisfaction of catching you in the act. Derrick felt and heard his boss putting his weight against the door, trying to busy it down. But Derrick was ready for that fat ass, he had both his feet propped hard, knees locked, back braced against the toilet. Derrick felt that fat ass put his full weight against the door one last time, then he gave up. \n\n\"Fine, have it your way, I'm calling the cops. The station is right around te corner, they'll be here before you can get away.\"\nDerrick heard him leave the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him. There were no windows in the bathroom, and it was at the end of the hallway. There was no way out without walking past his boss. He knew his gig was up. He didn't have a record, this was going to ruin him. Shit man, what do I do? His brain was fried, he wasn't thinking right. \"Let's go for it! I can't let the cops bust me!\" \n\nHe took a deep breath, gathered himself up, and then bolted for the door! The bathroom door opened out rather suddenly with a firm kick, knocking his boss on his ass in a most satisfying way. Derrick hated that prick, and took the opportunity to kick him in the gut while he was down before running for the door. Certainly they'd know to pull him over if he drove, so he ran instead. His apartment was only a couple blocks away anyways. \"I can get home and grab the rest of my stash before the cops figure out I ran home,\" Derrick thought as he ran towards his apartment. As he rounded the corner, he checked the parking lot for the police, then ran up the stairs, fumbling with his keys, and opened the door. \n\nHe never expected his dealer to be sitting on his couch. \n\"So Derrick, maybe you can explain something to me. Why in the hell are the cops at your work?\"",
"When a man hears that he's a \"drug addict,\" it's not usually something that is unknown to him. He knows it more than anyone else. He knows the things he's done, the things he will do, much more so than any onlooker. Some people feel a temporary concern, some false sympathy about the idea of being me. It's really not that bad I tell them. Unfortunately I couldn't explain that to my parents when they came to my apartment. \n\n\"These needles -- you're killing yourself!\" my mother weeps.\n\nShe acts like being addicted to a harmful substance is exclusive to me, when that is all I see in her. I see how my father threats her. I see the bruises on her face. A car accident she said. Just a fender bender. Fuck it, at least my addiction will kill me quickly. \n\n\"You're wasting your time Marie,\" he says. \"The little shit is a lost cause.\" \n\nHe sips on some coffee he brought in a silver traveling mug. It says \"world's #1 dad\" on it. I have no idea who bought him that.\n\nHe wasn't wrong though. If there's one thing I've known my whole life, it's that I'm a lost cause who isn't worth anyone's time. Merely a burden on those who love me. I know what you're thinking. Everyone thinks the same fucking thing.\n\n\"It's just a feeling\" she pleads. \"Why do you do this to yourself for just a feeling?\"\n\nLike I haven't been told that a million times before. The truth, the truth that nobody wants to recognize, is that everyone is driven by their feelings. Most people like to convince themselves otherwise. You may think you're a rational human being capable of objectivity, but watch the words you say in your next fight with your spouse. The food you eat when you're feeling down about yourself. The things you do when you see a person you find sexually attractive. I bet they aren't very rational.\n\nDespite this truth, the fact that I like to get high, or in my eyes, the chance to spend a bit of my temporary existence without fear or worry, doesn't click with most people. They'd rather see me take the long, painful way out. The way of regret and loneliness. If that's what rationality is, I say no fucking way. I'm not going out like that, Einstein be damned.\n\n\"Think about your actions for just one --\"\n\n\"I know you're just trying to make yourself feel better. You're thinking, maybe if I can improve his life, I'll feel better about my own. Well get this through your fucking skull mom, I don't need your bullshit sympathies and I sure as shit don't need you in my fucking life.\"\n\nThat one hurt. A lot. Her face quivers with extreme shock, like she'd been told her child just died. I might as well have. She doesn't look me in the eye as she steps out of the apartment. She closes the door behind her as her weeping sounds through the walls.\n\n\"You see what I have to deal now with you ungrateful little punk? I'm gonna take a piss and get out of this shit hole.\" He barrels his way toward the bathroom.\n\nHe's right, I have been ungrateful. My mother has never mistreated me. If anything, she's only been nice to me. Sure she didn't do anything when he'd beat my brains out with a wrench, but it wasn't her who did it. Why did I say those things to her? She doesn't deserve any of this. Fuck, I have to make it up to her somehow. \n\nI reach into my stash drawer. Oxy always helps on the come down. I don't think I'll need them after today. Lucky I just re-upped, almost a whole bottle. I spill the pills out of my table and crush them into a sweet, sweet powder. Normally, my idea of a good time would involve me snorting this up into my sinuses but I had more vengeful thoughts in mind.\n\n\"Worlds #1 Dad,\" I chuckled as I stirred the odorless substance into the thermos. He comes lumbering out of the bathroom. He didn't flush, the fucker.\n\n\"I know I'll probably never see you again you little shit and I ain't gonna cry about it either. Truth is I ain't been proud of you since you came home cryin' that some bully beat you up and took your money when you were a boy. Always knew you were a fuck up since that point. People are born that way I guess. Anyway, get someone else to get your corpse out of here when you finally decide to do it.\"\n\nI have a hard time containing my laughter. He goes for the door. As he steps through it, I say all that needs to be said.\n\n\"Tell mom I say you're welcome.\"\n\n",
"*I'm only 16, don't know much about drug addicts. Be gentle.*\n\n\n\nI've always been the type of person to ignore reason and logic from others. I mull over my own approach to deal with the depression that seemed to worsen by the second. It started with weed. Not a big deal. I began using bible pages as rolling paper, and I would light them with the razor pains of my never-ending migraines. It worked for a while, but tolerance is sneaky. It approaches quieter than a spider crawling down from its own web of self-loathing, just to bite you in the ass. Pot wasn't enough. I started mixing, matching, smoking, popping, and snorting just to get a sensation to lose myself and never be found. But I always was found. But being found led to my sanity becoming unbound into insanity. I need something else. There was a much harder drug. I've been putting it off. I knew it was there. I want it- no. I *need* it.\n\nI tried it. I loved it. Warnings from friends and family flew over my head. All senses of reality were lost at sea when I got that buzz. It was the queen bee of highs; sweeter than honey, but much more expensive. Fuck, my bank account is empty. I'm ignoring my family. I'm destroying my house. How long have I been doing this? Am I addicted? I'm draining my money. I'm draining my life away.\n\nI need another fix.\n\nJust one more.\n\nI'm almost done.\n\nOne more. \n\nI'll stop.\n\nAfter another. \n\nJust one more.\n\nI can't stop. \n\nI've ignored all my other possessions and family for this. But I swear every time I even get a glance of her in the corner of my eye, I can't help myself. I have to do it. My lips have never touched anything more satisfying. No pipe, pill, or powder tastes as good as her presence. I've been sober for four weeks, yet I haven't been able to get her off my mind since I saw her smile. That god damn smile. It was louder and brighter than a bomb. Everyone warned me. I would get attached. I would stop caring. I'm not attached. I'm addicted. Not to drugs, no not anymore. I'm addicted to her.\n"
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Something that doesn't involve a virus, a meteor, aliens, rogue A.I., etc.
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[WP] Write a New Apocalypse
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"It was the kind of science that wouldn't get you an award. Making drugs.\nSpecifically, hallucinogens. Phenylamines. Stuff that makes you see God.\n\nDr. Miller didn't care about the accolades, of course. He'd had enough of his own wares to realize that life is fleeting and beautiful. To desire anything but the wonderful experience of being alive, well, that was selfish.\n\n'Course, he was also the only chemist in the world who knew how to make Poly-34, the best goddamn trip in the universe. Helped paid the bills. Problem was, you had to take about five ounces of the stuff before it kicked in. And that was cutting his profit margin. He had to make it more effective...\n\n---\n\"Jamie, I think I got it. this stuff is a billion times more potent than 34! Just imagine! You could huff a single molecule and be high for days!\"\n\"Well, Doc, that's why we call you the Doc.\" Jamie patted him roughly on the shoulder, grin as wide as she was tall. Doc Miller's hands were coated in sweat - he'd been taking a little 2c-E to inspire him, a side effect of which was excessive perspiration. He dropped a beaker he was holding: equally the result of the trip as of Jamie's manhandling.\n\n\"Jamie, you ignorant murkha! I'm working here! No touching!\"\n\n\"Yeah, I grok,I grok, sorry, guy! So hey, how's the stuff gonna work, anyway?\n\nMiller thumbed his nose and smiled. \"Right now it's volatile. Gaseous. I gotta find a way to bind it to powder.\" He started laughing.\nJamie hummed nervously. \"So-o,\" she sing-songed \"that beaker..?\"\n\nMiller's eyes were wild with light, pupils big as quarters. \"Oh, yeah, baby.\" Jamie started to laugh. \"And the come-up only takes seconds.\"\nThey were both struggling to speak in between gut-wrenching guffaws.\n\n\"So - so.. how long does it last?\"\n\n\"Probably days. Maybe weeks! I don't know!\"\n\n\"And it only takes a smidge-\"\n\n\"A molecule!\"\n\nPained, happy, laughter.\n\n\"I suppose this is a bad time to tell you- hehehe- that, that, the lab's circulation is busted - hah, HA! - and all the fumes in here are heading outside\"\n\nMiller *snrrk*ed and kissed her on the mouth. \n\n\"Jamie, I guess it's a bad time to tell you I love you!\"\n\nThey made love, one last time, before their hearts gave out from the excitement. \n\nSeveral trillion molecules of Poly-35 made their way to the outside world and caught a strong westerly, until eventually the Earth's atmosphere had an ever-so-slight percentage of the potent hallucinogen evenly distributed across the planet.\n\nAnd the human race died happy, loving each other, as it should be.",
"It all started in 2025 when the us government finally collapsed. China had finally \"bought\" america. But our government had planned for this many years before. When china finally went to claim there debt, america detonated their nukes. \n\nOn there own land.\n\nThe radiation cloud was roughly the size of half of north america and has been shifting around the earth, killing or horribly mutating anything underneath it. It got the Americas first before becoming a radiation hurricane and hitting Africa. The massive black cloud has left nothing in its wake except death and soon it will drift towards our little town and kill us too. This is something we've all come to accept here. We wish to believe were not the last ones out there. Maybe somebody out there survives this and my journal will become history. Maybe I'll just die like everyone else and be lost to the apocalypse. The only thing I know is soon I will be dead. \n\nAlexander whichfield \nJune 15, 2037",
"A potato and tomato were hurdling through space for thousands of years absorbing cosmic radiation. Eventually they crossed the Earth's orbit and came streaking down to strike the U.S. The potato crashed into a wicker furniture store and the cosmic radiation combined with the O2 in the air caused the potato to become self aware and give it the ability to animate wicker furniture. The potato, now calling itself General Spuds, begins raising an army of wicker furniture to lay waste to the Earth.\n\nHowever, the tomato crashed into a giant, hippie co-op farm. It became self aware, too. It called itself Bob the Spiritual tomato in the garden of love and Bob also has the ability to animate vegetables. Bob begins to raise an army of cabbage, carrots, onions, and all other sorts of veggies to combat General Spuds army.\n\nEach time the two side engage in combat, cosmic radiation spits out and generates new life forms by combining random things in the area. Soon, the Earth is overrun by things like dyslexic tree goats, bisexual meatball soups, and violent booger slugs.\n\nThen, after one battle a squad of lethal wicker papasan chairs were hit with the cosmic radiation right next to a circus and a gender reassignment clinic. A whole new race of albino wicker midget shemales came to power and enslaved the remaining humans; forcing them to be portable toilet paper for General Spud. Humanity was lost.",
"'Today has been a shitty day,' I thought to myself. 'Well, at least I am home,' I brighten.\n\nMy entire day has been a constant turn of problems. My pay was decreased by three percent, I didn't finish a quarter of my work, and my heart has been acting up with its constant heartburn. Well, there is still the TV. Maybe, I can relax.\n\nOnce I flicked on the TV, the New's Reported blurted out the words: \"There has been at least two-hundred, thirty-one reported from New York.\" Seconds pass as I process the information. \"Records are being broke far and wide.\"\n\nTrying to figure out what they are talking about, I take off my tie and loosen my belt to relax while my eyes are plastered to the TV.\n\nThe graphics show two scientists clothed with large, body-covering suits coming in. Within brief seconds, they take out weird-looking rifles and point them toward the women. Boom. Bang. Bung. Boom. Shots go off as the New's Reporter falls to the ground.\n\nA walkie-talkie comes out from the suit pocket. \"Target A-73-GX has been eliminated. Do I have permission to take out the rest of the crew?\" Then, a \"Yes.\" comes out from the other end, and, quickly, as bullets go off again, I flick off the TV. \n\n'Wow,' I think to myself as I walk to the bathroom. \n\nI reach up to the cabinet, shaking as I reach. 'Ah. Pills.', I think to myself.\n\nTaking them down, I think over what will be done. I decide to run the water.\n\nDropping down into the bath, I take a handfull of the pills. I swallow.",
"I remember the day I saw him for the first time. He had a glow about him. Some presence that made everything feel alright even when it had gone horribly wrong. He had saved an airplane from crashing with his bare hands. He didn't say his name and he left in a blue blur. All I could do is just stand there in awe. \n\nOur mystery man showed up a day later on the news, he had saved a boat from sinking. He was just amazing. A few days later, he gave an interview to a reporter. I forget her name, but she won all those writing awards. Anyway, he said he was from another planet and he was here to save us. \n\nAnd he did. It seemed like he stopped every major disaster from happening. To hear people talk you'd think he was some sort of god. They say he can move faster than light, fly, and pick up a whole mountain. One guy even saw him freezing a tidal wave with his breath! \n\nI don't know how a man that can save that many people could make so many enemies but he figured it out. He stopped some sort of super genius from making a giant tsunami. He was set to make a fortune from stock prices. I don't really know the whole story, but what I do know is that he was out for blood ever since. He was the one that started this whole mess. \n\nI don't know why that evil bastard turned the sun red, but he did. Every city woke up that day bathed in a blood red light. He wanted blood and he got it. He killed our hero that day in the blood light. He had done it. He had figured it all out. All of it, except how to turn the sun back to the right color. \n\nIt took the hospitals a week before the first sick people came in. The tumors the size of grapefruit. It didn't even take much to see the connection. We all tried to stay inside if we could. It worked just fine, until the crops started dying. Turns out the red light was just as bad for them. \n\nIts been two years now. The few of us left alive were forced underground. We can only go out at night to try and find what little supplies haven't been taken. \n\nWe don't give up though, because our hero wouldn't have given up. He kept fighting right to the last moment, and so will we.\n\n ",
"A new disease broke out, something worse than deadly but the full repercussions weren't understood. The dead began to rise like something out of an old sci-fi movie, shuffling along and rotting as they went on by.\n\nWhat happened next though was something we'd never thought could happen. All manner of animal and beast began feesting off of the walking buffets of meat. Birds would eat away at the head and brain, scavengers like rats would nipple away at the feet and the larger animals would feast gladly on a walking corpse or two.\n\nWe felt as if we'd dodged one of science fictions biggest clichés when we realized that the animals had become more brave and the affect of the diseased flesh took them into berserk rages. The problem wasn't our own but the animals themselves, all of a sudden nature had turned around and started fighting back against all we'd made and manipulated to our own ends. Packs of animals would roam the re-abandoned cities, different species making unlikely alliances where birds would track and wolfs attack.\n\nWe were left to be hunted, not survive like with walking dead, our food had become our predator and we it's prey. It seems fate is not without a sense of irony.",
"Jake told me he found a spot outside of town where your shadow would disappear in broad day light. Naturally I had to call bullshit on it, so we made a plan to meet up on County Road 20 and head out there to see the claim for myself. \n\n\n\nJake drove the kind of car junk yards turned down. A rickety Gallant with more cracked plastic fenders than a half-rate Queen cover band. County Road 20 was just on the edge of Hick-Nowhere-Town Texas. A ten minute walk across town from where I lived. Jake nonetheless drove like a bat out of hell, because apparently time was money. He was shouting at me through the open window before he'd even stopped. Long haired, unshaved beatnik--according to a customer he'd pissed off at the one grocery store in town. \n\n\n\n\"Kar! Get in! You gotta--\"\n\n\n\n\"I know I know, I gotta check this out,\" I finished for him. If I had to hear *one* more time on how I just *gotta* check this out, I was going to... well, nothing, I guess. Jake was Jake, for better or for worse.\n\n\n\n\"I still don't think I get what you're saying,\" I said, sliding into the car. Jake took off down the road, the strangled 4 cylinder giving all its worth. \n\n\n\n\"What's there to get? *Your* *fucking* *shadow* *disappears*, alright? Plain as day,\" he said, grinding his teeth. \n\n\n\nI had to look sideways at that. It was a little intense--even for Jake's standard. He had a certain kind of Irish in him. Loud. Passionate. Over the top. But this was different. The guy was on edge, and I could tell he'd been drinking. Not that I was against it, but it was only two in the afternoon and he was laying heavy on the gas. \n\n\n\n\"You know your shadow disappears if there's not enough light, right?\" I offered. \n\n\n\n\"Yeah, well, when is a light not a light?\"\n\n\n\nI dropped it there, and wondered briefly if my friend had any schizo-effective qualities he was withholding. Despite my concern, we made good time in a decent manner, the only upset being a too sharp corner Jake had cut a little close, sliding the back end of the car a bit. It could have been on purpose for all I knew. What was on purpose was when Jake jerked the car off the road and through a gap in the fence--road be damned. I could see tire tracks where he'd been through before. \n\n\n\n\"Jake, shit! What the fresh hell you doing?\"\n\n\n\n\"It's quicker.\"\n\n\n\n\"How did you even find this place?\"\n\n\n\n\"It brought me here.\"\n\n\n\nThis did bring me up short, in that same way when you realize you were brought into something with a different intention than the other. I thought this was a curiosity type thing. What was that one book, with the kids running off to go see the body? Something like that, but not nearly as romantic. Nothing was romantic these days. There was no build up. To much movement. Everything was too instant--cell phones and three car garages. \n\n\n\nBut Jake's initiative was something weirder--darker even. As wild as he was, outright *crazy* was not a way to describe him. This began to click in my own head as he began driving the car through trees and brush. When the mirror on my side got ripped off my a jutting branch, I'd had enough. \n\n\n\n\"Stop the fucking car, Jake. Now. Right goddamned now this isn't funny anymore.\"\n\n\n\nLogs and rocks kicked up into the floorboards beneath my feet. \n\n\n\n\"Dude, you'll see. Just trust me and--\"\n\n\n\nThe engine revved. \n\n\n\n\"Trust you? You're going faster, fucker.\"\n\n\n\n\"Just trying--\"\n\n\n\n\"Stop the car! Now!\"\n\n\n\n\"Okay okay just... we're here anyways.\" The car bucked to a stop next to a washed out root system of some live oak tree, a stone's throw from a dried creek bed. And christ, the engine smoked. The windshield was cracked. And yet, Jake didn't seem to notice. \n\n\n\n\"Do you see it?\"\n\n\n\nI was, admittedly, too busy giving him the *are* *you* *stupid* look. I began to glance around, just to satisfy him. \n\n\n\n\"No, I don't fucking see--\"\n \n\n\nExcept--I did. We were in it. When was a light not a light? I could see the sun. I could see one cloud, maybe a jet trail, fucking off miles away elsewhere in the sky, not giving us the rain we'd needed. There were only a few trees, but not enough to give the place a Sleepy Hollow feeling, which was exactly the kind of atmosphere it was. Heavy. Dead. What the fuck? The place was dark, but Jake was right--not a single shadow. Not under the trees. Not anywhere by the car. I looked up again at the sun--which looked more like a low watt bulb stuck in the corner of a warehouse. Like trying to light a black room with a black light. \n\n(to be continued...)",
"You never realize how much last words mean until you have absolutely no way of knowing when the end will come. That’s the worst part about all this, the suddenness of it all. I’ll be in the middle of a casual conversation with the nice old woman who runs the flower shop, or the balding man at the deli counter, and then I’ll be addressing the empty air as the bouquet of daisies or half-cut ham falls to the floor. Just like that, gone.\n\nThe worst part of it all – aside from the fact that anyone I know could disappear at any moment – is the Sound. Picture a small child, cheeks filled with air, waiting for the unsuspecting parent to doze off. He creeps up, right up close, to their ear and releases the air in a concentrated little *pop*. That’s the sound people make when they go. It’s the sound I dread most now, more than the whine of a police siren or the cry of a newborn baby. I’d rather hear the immense metallic racket of a car crash than that ghastly little *pop*, but I fear the time for accidents has long since passed. There’s simply no one left to have them.\n\nI walk the streets aimlessly, hoping against hope that I’ll round the corner and stumble across a familiar face. I turn on the television, but every channel’s static. At least it’s a reminder that there used to be life, just as each little *pop* is the announcement of someone’s death. Wherever I go, the Sound cuts through the silence.\n\nAnd now it’s just me, left to carry the torch of humanity for as long as I’m able.\n\nI wonder if I’ll hear my own little *pop* when I go.",
"We Will Be As Gods..\n\nThat's what the slogan was all those years ago. Well no, that wasn't the original slogan.\nIt was, as I recall “BE WELL. BE DIVINE. DRINK AMBROSIA” or some shit. Some \nPharma big wig thought it was a brilliant idea to develop a cure-all nano therapy. \n\nStay with me now.\n\nFor the same price as a dozen super sport cars, billions of tiny little machine buggers scraped out all the shit that your rich as fuck decadent lifestyle put in your system. Almost overnight you were a brand new person. All that was you was replaced with a better version of you.\n\nSounds great right? Fuck, I'm dying of ass cancer, here's the GDP of a small country, make me better doc! Then BAM, right as rain, that same 60 year old bastard, is not only back to eating , drinking, or fucking whatever he wants, he also now looks like some god damned mid twenties rock star version of himself.\n\nLet me tell you this, if you thought the #Occupy shit that went down at the beginning of the 21st century was a big to do, it was dwarfed by the shit fit that went down when the Neo-hippies got wind of this procedure. You're rich as fuck and you get a reset button on your life every 20 to 30 years? Fuck. That. \n\nYou see, I'm all for shit being as fair as possible. Everyone deserves an even playing field. Except now these bastards are literally up,up,down,down,left,right,left,righting the game of life. SO it did not surprise me one bit that someone hacked the code. \n\nHey, stay awake.\n\nSome of us that remember believe it had to be an inside job. Some nut-job trans-humanist terrorist group got to one of the lab techs family or something made him do something to the OS and smuggled it out of the lab. No one really knows, how it happened or exactly when, but I think it was in the fall or so when it got me. \n\nLike a marquee a simple message scrolled across my vision, red letters, \n\nWE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... WE WILL BE AS GODS... \n\nWell 520 years 4 months and 4 days later,,,, lets just say, people didn't get along that much back before the event and much less so when the planet was populated by nearly 8 billion nearly immortal super men and women.\n\nThere's a lot less of us now, maybe a handful on this blasted continent. Gonna be one more less here in just a few. You see my friend, one of things we learned pretty early is those little machines won't shut off. You shoot someone in the head, chop off a hand, or perpetrate any other kind of mayhem to your fellow man, it gets fixed. However, you take that hand you just chopped of and eat it, well you just added some food and a million more tiny little buddies to your gut. \n\nSo here we are at last. You. Me. Your open skull and quickly repairing brain matter. My well used knife and fork. Your chair and chains. Me rambling on telling you this story for what, the 100th time, and your incredibly annoying screams and horrible brain damage induced amnesia. \n\nBon Appetit ",
"First came the poop. \nFalling poop, let me tell you, is one of the most disturbing things you'll even encounter. Not that you would; everyone is dead, but I digress.\n\nAt first we thought they were leaves. It was autumn, after all. Then the frequency and locations they were coming from made us consider space rocks. Upon quick examination, though, we discovered it was feces.\n\nFeces! Falling from the sky! How does this happen?\n\nWe assumed it was just some faulty airplane disposing its waste, but reports suggested it was happening all across the Earth. Poop was falling from the sky, everywhere in the world.\n\nThe smell was horrendous, and it was hard to clean up, but we did. But it took months to extinguish the odiferous odor. \n\nBy then, though, the rain started coming. Except it wasn't rain. It was pee. \nPee came from the sky. I can't even explain this, but it happened! It was quite… potent.\n\nThe pee became the source of \"life\" for plants, which messed with their biology, and made many wither away. Unfortunately, it also contaminated our water. We were able to filter most of it, but it was still somewhat unsanitary, and there were a large number of unhealthy reports based on the consumption of the urine. On top of the excrement crisis, we were facing some serious issues with the fate of humanity, and it couldn't be explained.\n\nThis drove on for many months, pee and poop varyingly falling from the sky, ruining the Earth.\n\nThen, one day, a booming voice appeared, and told everyone on Earth: \"I'm so sorry.\"\n\nI couldn't tell what happened next. It was like thunder. Or an earthquake. A very loud sound appeared, which shook the world. Noxious fumes appeared everywhere. Gas was spreading across the planet. It was getting impossible to breathe… I passed out….\n\nI woke up on what appeared to be a cloud. \"Oh no,\" I said to myself. \"Please don't tell me…\"\n\nI saw a man by a podium, standing in front of a golden gate. \"Hello,\" the man said. \"I'm Saint Peter. I regret to inform you, but you are dead.\"\n\n\"How? What happened?\"\n\n\"It's an odd story, but basically, the apocalypse happened. God has been having problems in his urinary and excretory, and, well… he kind of killed everyone with a massive fart.\"",
"The world had turned to stone in less than a year.\n\nThere wasn't any place you could go without them watching you, their shaped in agony and pain. Nobody can really describe what it feels like to be turned because nobody has ever turned back. We pretend that they're still alive, that maybe beneath all that stone their hearts are still beating, just waiting to be freed. \n\nDaphne is scared of them, I see it in her eyes whenever she looks at them. She wants to believe that they're alive, but she knows its a false hope. I don't know what to tell her. Every night before I go to sleep, I kiss her. I kiss her to let her know she isn't alone in this world, that it will all get better. But I know it won't. All I can muster is a few words, \"I love you, Daphne.\"\n\nI figure that there is fifty statues for every one person. We don't know how it spreads, but we know it spreads quickly. The skin turns to stone and hardens and they freeze in place, fully conscious of their body hardening. Their organs slowly stop and harden, and the screaming begins. I had a kidney stone once when I was in my twenties. I figure that's what it feels like. Like your body is trying to force out one large kidney stone. \n\n\"Daphne,\" I say in a hoarse voice. My tongue tasted like gravel and dirt. I reach up and touch her hand, cold in my own. \"Daphne, I won't leave you.\" I say.\n\nHer hands are extended forward, as if she was grasping at something. I remember the day, the day she turned. She was reaching for me, tears in her eyes. She was on her knees, screaming out in pain. I ran to her but she was gone by the time I reached her. My wife had turned to stone before my very eyes.",
"Ashes to Ashes\n\nThe year is 2050 and the world has been decimated. All that is left of what used to be is ashes and charred debris. Approximately 10 years ago it became apparent that our world was becoming too polluted. There were more and more cases of cities becoming too polluted just like Shanghai, which had been evacuated 2 years earlier. The corporations assured us though that no harm would come to our planet. They told us how they were developing machines that would take all the bad stuff in the air and purify it. I was only 9 years old at the time when they announced the machines but even then I knew that they would not work. We lived in what was left of the countryside after the Corporation Expansion of 2030 got rid of the wildlife and replaced it with factories that manufactured goods that only the rich could afford. Even as I sit here in the remains of an old factory I still remember our house. We had hardwood floors, walls that had bright baby blue wallpaper, and chairs that our father had only just bought because of his meager pay. All of it would be gone soon within a meager 6 days. I remember exactly when the apocalypse started. The C.E.O of MegaCorp was broadcasting the test footage of one of the “life saving” machines. The machine was over 500 feet tall and emitted bright lights. He told us about how there were tests all around the country as well that would determine how to maximize our efforts. Everyone watched in hope as he pressed the button to activate it. Within seconds of pressing the button these fans opened up on the sides of the machines and sucked the pollution in. It was truly working!!! Then the worst happened. There was malfunction and the machines spit it all back out and added a little twist to it. There was an ignition. The pollution filled the air and ignited. Napalm was nothing compared to this. For the few seconds before the TV shut off all you saw was people being disintegrated by the flames. We ran for our basement just as the flames reached our house. My mother and I were the only ones who were able to reach it. I only take solace in the fact that my sister and father perished without any pain. We waited about 2 weeks before we went to the surface. What we found was just ashes. All that was left of our world……was ashes.\n",
"#cutforbieber\n\nA joke that started in the infamous 4chan website. Though meant as a joke to criticize the intense fandom of the Bieber fanbase, some teenagers took the joke seriously, posting pictures of their slashed wrists. But none of them took it as far as Ashley Miller, a fourteen year old girl.\n\nOne would consider her a die hard fan. She has one of the largest collections of Bieber memorabilia in the entire world, and has followed him \naround the world, watching his concerts. But, ironically, she was one of the prettiest, smartest, and friendliest in her school, based from the testimony of her teachers and father, Nolan Miler. This earned her a huge following of friends and suitors.\n\nWhen she learned about the \"#cutforbieber\" trend, she immediately jumps into the bandwagon, without using her better judgement. She plans a huge get together to perform this \"ceremony\", scheduling it a week before classes resume. She invites all of her friends to join her. A turnout of about 400 students appear, both male and female, with ages ranging from 10-18. \n\nForensics have suggested that Ashley has decided that simply \"cutting\" for her idol was not enough. What follows is not for the faint of heart.\n\nThe school administration and worried parents caught wind of the \"cutting ceremony\". They discover the mutilated corpses of the 400 students. Writings written in blood cover the gym wall, lyrics to all of the songs of Justin Bieber. Hands are cut off the arms, the fingers cut off the hands, and the fingernails ripped off of those fingers. They were used as the paintbrushes. Caricatures of Justin Bieber are etched in the backs of some corpses. Eyeballs, feet, teeth, and tongues are strewn around the floor. A huge bonfire is set in the center of the gymnasium, with bodies piled up and used as fuel. A crucifix is set in the middle of the pile, with a body nailed to it. DNA tests show that the corpse belongs to Ashley Miller.\n\nAnd from this, the \"Miller-Bieber Effect\" was born. A man with this condition will suffer obsession to the loved one that died, grows insane, and kills himself in an elaborate fashion. Any man who is closely related to the victim will immediately suffer this condition once he sees the corpse, and the vicious cycle continues. \n\nNolan Miller, after seeing her corpse, mourned her for 3 years. He went insane, and killed himself by etching her name repeatedly to his body, until he finally died from blood loss. His wife, after seeing the crime scene, entered intense depression and longing for his husband. She finally died after melting her her wedding ring, and swallowing the molten gold, burning her throat and blocking the air passage way.\n\nThe condition quickly spread throughout the country, and migrated overseas. Human population decreased massively. Some places were declared inhabitable because of the sheer amount of rotten corpses. The last human to die was, ironically, Justin Bieber. He died by puncturing both eardrums with stakes and ripping his throat out with his bare hands.\n\nPlease don't cut for Bieber :( \n\n"
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[FF] Write an emotionally devastating three word story.
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"Please don't die. \n\nThe story that goes with this:\n\nI had a night terror once, I was dreaming about a car accident with my girlfriend. Everything was black and all I could hear was her voice, \"Please don't die, please don't die, please don't die.\" Pleading, I opened my eyes but couldn't move. The voice continued, \"Please don't die, please don't die,\" Getting louder until it was yelling, \"PLEASE DON'T DIE!\" That's when I actually opened my eyes and could move again. The room was quiet."
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Here's mine. Mine made a little more sense than it should have, but I liked the end result so much I couldn't give it up. Critique me, and of course, show me yours!
Sinister passion.
The devil.
The peaceful vanishing.
Evil is near.
Shadowed.
Evil dispels fog from the humming abyss.
Murky weirdness.
Fragments of memories arise from beneath.
Awaken.
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[WP]Write something evil, but it can't make a lot of sense.
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"My footsteps were all that I heard while\n\nwalking the road by the woods that day.\n\nUntil some time along the way\n\nthe chanting voices came to play.\n\nThey brought their word of pain and torture\n\nsinking ship, screaming girl Portia.\n\nA fog with their words soon descended\n\nperhaps my life would soon be ended\n\nno such luck; wish I could pray\n\nbut now all I can do is say\n\nthe things they said to me that day\n\nI repeat to travellers on their way\n\nno body left no face no laughter\n\nevil is me wispy chanter\n\nbroken feet and oozing eyeball\n\nfamilial dischord; ghostly footfall\n\nhatchet murder, school shooting\n\ndemented parent, riot and looting\n\n\nall the bad things you ever knew?\n\nwait till you see what's coming for you.\n\n"
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In the Bible, Joshua Chapter 10, it describes how God stopped the earth's rotation for a day. (Text: So the sun stood still, and the moon stopped... So the sun stood still in the midst of heaven, and did not hasten to go down for about a whole day.)
What would happen if that happened today? An obscure tribe somewhere is having a battle, they cry out to God, and the world stops spinning for a day.
We can assume the oceans and air stopped rotating as well, and that a day later, everything started again like normal.
Note, there are no scientific explanations; it is a miracle of God. How would people react if it happened today?
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[WP] A miracle occurs, the Earth stops spinning. How do people react?
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"I awoke this morning and there was nothing but darkness. The sun had not risen. I heard sirens blaring in the distance. Why was there no sun? Why was there no daylight . People in the city had taken advantage of the darkness . Looting and rioting in the city. Stores were stripped bare as each item was stolen. Each year on July 15th the earth stops moving. The sun does not rise here. Each year the people create anarchy without consequences. Then the following day the sun rises and society restarts. Until next year. ",
"His alarm went off. He jumped out of bed, confused. He was 26 years into life and he knew in his gut something was wrong. It was black as midnight still, and all of the streetlights were still on. Yet his alarm said 7:30. In April, that should be daylight, or there should be some natural light, something. Confused, he looked out his window, making sure that there was nothing covering it. There wasn't. He clearly saw the streetlights and the cars sitting in front of his building. There was definitely something wrong, but looking outside held no answers, it just confirmed his suspicions that something was out of the ordinary.\n\nThe news was equally unhelpful as his window was, he turned it on and heard \"BREAKING NEWS! Darkness reigns as the sun does not rise!\" Apparently, the moon stayed up, the sun stayed down. Confused, he went about his morning routine because his phone and the TV confirmed that it was actually time for him to get ready for work.\n\nAs he left his house at 8:30, heading to his car to go to work, he noted the unseasonable chill in the air. As opposed to the mild 75 he was expecting, it felt more like the 40s. Wondering (now with a little fear) what was happening, he got into his car, thoughts racing through his head about what could possibly be happening. \n\nWhen he got to work, he found it only half full, and the office buzzing about what could be going on. Apparently, some of the employees had gotten scared and feared the apocalypse. The news was on all over the office, and he heard terrifying news: \"Earth's rotation halts! What do we do now? Experts stunned!\" *Maybe it was a good idea to stay home today* he thought to himself. *Enjoy my last bit of life before the world ends.* For all he knew, the apocalypse was actually starting. Within an hour, only two of the office's 25 employees remained, himself included. The rest had gone home to their families or to whatever they wanted to do. Together, the two of them decided to leave as well, no point in staying here, they decided. \n\nLeaving the building at 10 AM, he noticed how much colder it had actually gotten, though there was a curious lack of breeze. It was like the atmosphere was just cooling off, which he supposed it probably was. By this point, he reckoned he had not seen the sun in over 14 hours, and at this point in the year, that was extremely odd, as it is only a few hours without light every night. The temperature had reached a freezing 35 degrees and he was shivering as he got in his car. Driving home, he noticed the stereotypical apocalypse occurring outside, abandoned cars, the occasional building fire, and a strange lack of emergency response. *Apparently everyone decided to enjoy their last bit of time on Earth* he mused to himself. *Oh well, no surprise there.*\n\nAfter driving for a time, he got to his house, in a relatively unscathed area of town. He went inside, and tried to decide what to do with his time. He ate lunch and watched the news for a time, before he decided to talk to his parents one more time, because *What the hell, the worlds ending, might as well tell them I love them.* \n\n1 PM now, dark as midnight. 25 degrees out, no wind, temperature still falling. He got in his car, cranked the heat up, and decided to go see what he could do for fun. Too late, he realized he left his phone inside. *Oh who cares, I don't need to talk to anyone anyway.* He turned the car on, drove one block, and got hit by a speeding car coming from an intersecting street. The car must have been going 60 mph down a side street, and his car didn't stand a chance. As the car came sliding to a stop, he was lucky to be alive, the car that crashed into him hit the passenger side. He escaped with a broken arm and broken leg, while the driver of the other car wasn't so lucky. He looked into the other car and saw the driver bloody, mangled, and clearly dead. \n\nWith his car totaled, and two broken limbs, he couldn't get far. He was lucky to be only a block away from his house, so he limped/dragged himself back in pain, regretting his decision to leave his phone inside. He got inside somehow and tried 911. All he got was silence on the other end. *Damn, the world stops working fast* he thought as he tried calling his friends and family, also to no avail. \n\n2 PM, he was bleeding and had nowhere to go, no help to seek. He felt himself bleeding out slowly, and slowly over the next hour got weaker and weaker and he came to the realization that there was no help coming. No one was left that cared. The world had stopped turning, and there was nothing anyone could do about it, and as he felt outside, the temperature was dropping fast. The apocalypse was here, just a lot quieter than he ever imagined, and without all the fire and explosions he read about in the stories his whole life. \n\nAt 4 PM he knew he was almost dead. He turned on the news and got just a generic station logo on a blank screen with the time and temperature. It was 15 degrees outside. It was at this point he came to peace with the end of his life. He realized how this day started off so much differently than any other day, and he had no suspicion when he woke up that it would be the end of his life. \n\nAt 4:26 PM, he ceased living, laying in a pool of blood on the floor of his house.\n\nNot that anyone at this point cared anymore. \n\nAll anyone knew was that the world was ending.",
"John checks his watch again. \"It's already seven!\" he exclaims, \"They don't pay me enough for this job.\" The Affordable Care Act has made John's occupation as an insurance salesman a strenuous one. 2013 has not been kind to him. He outstretches his appendages and swivels his chair toward the panel-like window of his thirty-second floor office. \"That's odd...\" John notices for the first time that the sun has not moved since the position it held during his lunch break. Perplexed, he peers downward to the usually bustling streets below, but the pedestrians do not seem to hold their same sense of urgency. The majority aren't moving at all. They hold the appearance of statues, gawking at the sky's immovable orb. John takes his cell phone from the desk and places a call. \"Honey, I'll be home as soon as possible.\"\n\nAs he enters his home he is greeted by the wails of his children. His wife, Catherine, turns toward the door. \"Oh thank God you're home!\" John gets straight to the point. \"What is the media saying about this? Is it as bad as it seems?\" \"Well it's what it seems, but I'm not sure if it's bad. The government is stating that it is just a natural phenomena, and they've advised people to keep calm. Obviously this hasn't convinced many people, and so far there's major riots in Los Angeles, New York, Baltimore, and Denver.\" John's brow furrows with thought. It is now eight thirty. \"Well, if there's anything I've learned in my thirty-seven years it's that major problems aren't going to be solved immediately. Let's take things one step at a time, and right now, I'd say this family needs some sleep.\"\n\nA distant crash and distinct sound of a car alarm cause John to wake with a start. Light is still seeping through the blinds and he checks his clock. \"Four AM...\" He whispers to himself. He quietly slinks out of his room without disturbing his spouse and thoroughly checks the house's locks. Knowing that sleep will no longer be obtainable, he settles down onto the living room couch and points the remote toward the television. It sparks to life with a familiar buzz and a familiar voice begins to spout the news. \"Astronomers and experts have just confirmed that the sun has only stopped for an approximately twenty-four hour period in a strange solar phenomena; things will return to normal in a number of hours.\" With this new comforting knowledge, a smile creeps across John's face as he drowsily closes his eyes.\n\nJohn wakes to the vibrations of his cell phone on the coffee table. He answers and is immediately berated by the piercing voice of his secretary. \"John you have an appointment with a client in less than an hour I hope you're just playing some sort of joke on me!\" \"Y-yeah,\" he stammers \"a joke...\" he hangs up the phone and glances toward the TV screen. Images of riot aftermath and police apprehensions flash across the screen. Heretics have committed murder and suicide and thieves have plundered thousands of stores. John staggers to prepare for one of the most frantic days of his career and sighs. \"I hate my job.\"",
"Time is the measurement of motion. The day that the earth stood still was the day that life became eternal. Funny word, \"eternal\". People use the word as a measurement of time, but it really means to be outside of time. \n\nI don't believe in God. But I couldn't help but believe today. I had asked Him, begged Him, pleaded with Him for just one more day with her. \n\nShe was dying and she was running of time. Until today. \n\nThe day felt like an eternity. Oh, right. The day felt like the end would never come. The news report had claimed that darkness took over half the world, others were caught in noon day sun. \n\nWe were caught at dawn.\n\nShe told me the kind of life she wanted me to lead. She read me the letter that she had left for me and promised to write me a new one. I held her for what seemed like an eternity. Oh, right. I held her for what seemed like forever. I listened to her breathe. I felt her tears fall on my chest. I kissed her lips. I held her hands. \n\nGod was taking her away, but gave us a taste of eternity. He told us that it wasn't the end. That when time moved on and every motion in the universe ceased, it would just be the beginning of eternity. \n\nThen, the Earth jolted forward. She was still dying. Her time was still running out. \n\nBut since the day that the earth stood still, we had both began to live in eternity. "
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[WP] Write a fictitious account of a well known historical figure from someone that works closely alongside them.
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"Pete woke up. The sun stung his eyes and his head throbbed with each heartbeat. His pulsating temples clouded his vision as he tried to pick himself up off the table he apparently passed out on. Pete smacked his lips, searching for any sort of moisture to drown out the acrid wine breath festering on his tongue. He sat, hunched over and legs swinging above the ground, surveying for water or juice or anything to battle the nasty taste burning his mouth. Pete scratched his beard, trying to work out the bread crumbs and fish remnants caked in by wine, and belched. Then heaved. He definitely needed water now. Last night’s supper mixed with last night’s wine saturated beneath his tongue. Pete got up, spit, and walked outside. To the right of the hut’s entrance rested his salvation; three canteens filled to the brim. Pete thanked the Lord, snatched one up, and poured greedily onto his face, bathing himself in moisture. The sour sweet wine taste didn’t hit register immediately. Pete’s eyes watered as he puked the last supper and in his torment, he heard laughter. Pete wiped his eyes and saw his twelve buddies laughing at him. He raised his middle finger at them as Jesus said, “Gotcha!”",
"I was one of his maids. It didn't last long, for the same reasons that the other girls quit. He would spend hours consulting with his conspirators, deciding who in the business was a \"Jew bastard\" or a commie. It was all a ploy. He just wanted to take his competition down. He wanted control of the industry. I remember one day, a man from the postal service came by with his sketching materials. He greeted the man with a smile on his face. The second he shut the door, he said, \"Now US postal is sending niggers to people's houses. Unbelievable.\" He didn't make too much of a mess, though it did get a little gross here and there. I specifically remember cleaning his ejaculate off a framed picture of Marilyn Monroe one morning. It was heartbreaking to see all those children look at him with wonder in their eyes, knowing how he was. I had to quit. It took me months to be able to see Mickey Mouse without vomiting in my mouth a little."
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Do with this what you will, have the teachers be friends, foes, or begrudging neighbors :P
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[WP] An old Wizard, Witch, Necromancer, Pyromancer, and Druid all gather to let their apprentices have their weekly playdate.
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[
"Milreya shifted uneasily in her molded plastic chair as a cluster of giggling yearlings clambered past her for story time in the next room. *Children*, she remembered. Humans call them *children*. She adjusted her cloak, trying her best to hide the twisting brands which encircled her arms. Milreya, \"Hellscald\", Bannisher of Dark, Grand Pyromancer of the Eldest Order, felt fidgety in her plastic chair.\n\n“How’s yer wee Elsie?” asked a gruff voice beside her. Milreya twitched slightly, keeping her arms folded tightly.\n\n“She’s fine.”\n\nThe pyromancer had hoped to avoid Finnbhennach as much as possible, only partly because of his unpronounceable name. The druid was seven and half feet tall and wide as a fridge, even after Constance the witch had shrunken him a bit. His great silver beard grew wide and long, down to the enormous gold-plated *Don’t Mess with Texas* belt buckle he insisted upon wearing whenever they had to don “regular” clothes. Finnbhennach was not terrible, really, as druids go. He could hold a conversation. But then again, bears could be trained to ride unicycles too.\n\nSecretly Milreya always expected him to try and bite her face off. Not that the druid had been anything but courteous toward her on other occasions. There was just something unsettling about his manner--the easy swing of his giant forearms, his happy, loping gait--that made her constantly expect the other foot to fall. And she kept an incantation ready on the tip of her tongue, just in case. Especially here.\n\nOnce a week, hundreds of children belonging to the scattered magic folk who lived in secret throughout the country descended upon the towns of Men to attend daycare, to mingle with their own kind. And more importantly, with humans. They had to learn how to blend in when necessary, although it was a skill which had grown rusty for many of their parents.\n\n“Ah hope no one gets barnt this year,” Finnbhennach said, the scrunching sound of his thick leather jacket echoing off the tile floor as he leaned slightly toward Milreya. The pyromancer twitched again. She had been over and over the rules with her daughter Elsie:\n\n1) No fires.\n\n2) No fires.\n\n3) Seriously.\n\n“She’ll be good,” Milreya said. Then, perhaps to convince herself, she added, “Elsie’s a good girl.”\n\n“O’ course she is,” the druid replied heartily and swung his great arm to clap her amicably on the back. Milreya dove from him at the gesture. Missing the target of his friendly pat, Finnbhennach stumbled forward toward the mage, now lying prone on the tile floor. She turned to see him advancing and threw out a hand in panic.\n\n*Dómr um dauðan hvern!*\n\nA blinding whip split the air and lashed into the druid’s chest with the force of a lightning bolt. Finnbhennach flew through the decorated plate glass window, a roar of shocked anger bellowing out of him. The great giant crashed down, amidst the tinkling shards of The Kiddie Korner’s animated sign, onto somebody’s Prius. The car collapsed beneath him like a bean bag. Tires squealed as the northbound Campus Trolley veered into oncoming traffic to avoid the wreckage. \n\nHorns blared as Finnbhennach roared and flung the flattened Prius behind him. The car flipped end over end onto the Starbuck’s patio across the street, where dozens of latte enthusiasts began tweeting furiously. Milreya regained her feet to find that her adversary had assumed his bear aspect somewhere between the window and the car; his Texas belt buckle and black leather jacket were all that remained of his human form. Muttering an ancient incantation, she began to draw flames from her hand, but turned suddenly at a small voice.\n\n“Mom!” it cried. Elsie, three-foot-six with bleach-white pigtails and a stern expression, stood with folded arms on top of the front counter. Other children generally gaped at the scene, or had already crawled under a Little Tikes table. Laura the caretaker still clutched dumbly to her Curious George book, mumbling something about balloons.\n\n“You’re in trouble,” Elsie exclaimed. Her mother’s flame guttered slightly. “*No fires!*”\n\n“I-- I know, honey,” Milreya stammered. \n\nAn electric growl suddenly filled the room. Milreya spun to find Finnbhennach bound and paralyzed in a web of glittering light, suspended just above her with fangs bared. Constance stood, wand out, just down the sidewalk. Her long, deep red scarf billowed around her in the wind, giving her the appearance of a classical statue.\n\n“Millie!” she called to the pyromancer. “What is the meaning of this?” \n\nCar alarms and befuddled muggles squawked pointlessly all around, their headlights and iPhones flashing.\n\n“He attacked me!” Milreya yelled over the noise. Constance shook her head.\n\n“Never you mind,” she scolded. “Oh, when I think of all the Forgetfulness Charms we’ll need. Mark my words, this will be a scandal when the Council hears of--”\n\nShe stopped short as another pair of voices joined the commotion:\n\n“Will you look at that, Hargrey. We’re late to the party.” A spindly old wizard in a Harvard sweatshirt adjusted his spectacles to take in the scene. His companion, a pale figure dressed all in black, chuckled slightly and shrugged.\n\n“Mm,” muttered the necromancer. “Aren’t I always?”",
"The Sandstone crag struck through the forest like a long winding corridor.\nAt it's apex a series of wooden stakes where driven into the stone, upon them a seemingly woven Home of thick oaken boughs. Upon closer inspection an approaching Necromancer saw that it had in-fact been grown to it's supports, and by sheer muscular force shaped to the will of the occupant.\n\nThe Necromancer thought she might draw the life from the home, and do the Druid a favour, save him time curtailing unwanted growth.\nThen again, antagonizing Mr. Vandrare would be unwise.\n\nA Deep Burgundy Robed Woman -with crimson eyes, and scarlet lips, Hair of the deepest Forge-lit blaze- strode out from the mossy undergrowth, her delicate steps leaving small embers in the soft loam.\nA young boy dutifully extinguished the fires by jumping on the joyously.\n\nThe Necromancer flared her lips as she tugged her daughters hand, pulling her away from the verdant view behind her.\n\n\"JIM! Guests! quickly the Tea!\" a Booming fell voice shook the earth from within the crag. At that from the thick forest came The Necromancer, The Pyromancer, and The Wizard and The Witch -hand in hand- centering upon a sandy circle encroaching into the Loam.\nBehind each of them a child of roughly ten blithered about.\n\nWhen all where present and accounted a number of roots grew up into a table and set of chairs, and a boy clothed in baggy dark hemp woven clothing carried and readied a large heavy teaset.\n\nEveryone was silent as they sat and poured for each other, a pale purple steam simmered from the tea, the children by their mentors.\n\nNone took notice as their host, a Bear of a man, clad in only baggy trousers, and a monstrous Beard carried a number of large Tomes down from his cliff-side home as a staircase that grew as he walked.\n\nSimultaneously each guest bar the children looked up over their teacups.\n\nVandrare Dropped the books thumping onto the table.\n\n\"How are all ye old fecks?\" He erupted Jovially, taking the Riker maneuver into his chair, then lifting Jim one handed and plonking him into the last seat.\n\nThe table sprung into back-slapping laughter and wanton laughter, the ladies exchanging compliments, and discussing the magical progress of their apprentices.\n\nThe Wizard and Vandrare pulled open the biggest book and began laughing at certain chapters. The witch called her apprentice up to talk to the pyromancer who immediately spoke to the lass as a peer.\n\nJim and the necromancers daughter where folding paper into various shapes while the wizards Apprentice animated them into flittering creations.\n\nThe pyromancers apprentice boy lit one on fire without it burning. Intrigued the necromancers daughter got down and sat with some of the others, her eyes went black and she concentrated on something in her palm, revealed to be a reanimated mouse skeleton.\n\nJim planted a few seeds and grew a small structure about which for them to play with their rudimentary abilities.\n\nVandrare and the Wizard, closed the Mountainous book, which turned out to be a universal apprentices Almanac.\n\nAll the assembled wizards grew solemn, the Pyromancer turned the witches child towards the rest of the children.\nA tiny black book was pushed into the center of the table, the Necromancer took it and flipped to page 43,789, and pointed at a diagram of a simplistic primordial seal. Vandrare nodded. The Necromancer spoke one word. It made no sound but they all heard it. They all sighed, Stood, and began the days lessons.\n",
"The Wizard and the Witch are pretending not to flirt in a corner of the smokey room. Mesuled and Babaganesh are slightly younger than the hills and slightly older than their teeth.They're both one of the five most powerful people in that room, but they still can't get their shit together long enough to admit that they find each other attractive. \n\n\nAnd this fact is of great personal grief to Girmehal, a Druid with a beard large and busy enough to shelter a small colony of dormice. He's sitting with a potent mixture of brandy, whiskey and saliva, since the bartender still hasn't forgiven him for sleeping with his daughter three months ago. He's the matchmaker of the group, found Necro a nice nymph three years ago and he's looking for a way to keep his own legend alive. \n\n\n\n\nThe Pyro sits sulking by the fire, one eye on the Necro's apprentice, who had been snatched from under his nose, lured with the promise of a warmer house and dental. He's got arthritis in three fingers and finds spells difficult nowadays, but still manages to pervert the fire enough to send smoke floating directly up the bartender's nose. He likes Girmehal too much to see those looks directed at him. \n\n\n\nNecro, the youngest of the five and the newest addition to their circle, sits watching her charge with a funny smile on her face. Dead spirits float around her shoulders, offering advice and pork scratchings in equal measure. A brawl breaks out on the other side of the room and she frowns, her peaceful thinking disturbed. Bony hands reach out of the earthen floor to pull the fighters down into the cold earth. They do not resurface. Girmehal takes another sip of his drink and smiles to himself. Inviting the Necro had been a good idea."
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[WP] You made the ultimate sacrifice for your spouse. Now you get watch, as a ghost, what they go through after your death.
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[
"He cried. And cried, and cried. There wasn't much I could do but sit around. Strangely enough, I wasn't exactly discontent. I wasn't content, either, but it's like sitting on a lukewarm day on your porch. You don't really need anything, but it's not warm enough to start exactly *enjoying* sitting there doing nothing.\n\nI watched him all night, until his eyes slowly opened and he just lay there. For hours everyday after he woke up. I wish I could yell at him, scream, something! I'd died for *him*, so that he could have a LIFE. It didn't look like much of what he was having now. Missing days at work, cancelling meetings with friends, I was forced to watch as his life slowly disintegrated to match mine.\n\nThen one day, he got straight out of bed and stared right out of the window. Right across from our hotel room, at the only other building taller than the hotel in the entire metropolis. *He wouldn't!* My heart skipped a beat. If I had one, that is - I guess my mind started racing, and I didn't really know what to do. Every day he got up from then on, he stared directly at the Mercorp building. Weeks turned to months turned to two years, until he got up on a Saturday and took the rail.\n\n\nI sat in the carriage next to him in disbelief. He wouldn't...would he? Is this what I would have wanted? I mean, is this what I **want?** He finally reached, sitting inside. He was attended to shortly. A short skirted, busty girl with way too much makeup. I felt something stir inside. Jealousy? I couldn't believe it. She led him into the pay room, where he deposited all his belongings on him and signed on a form. He was really doing this.\n\nShe then took him into the elevator, up forty levels and then let him exit. A giant, glass walled room. You could see our hotel from here. She led him to a machine facing the glass, a chair of sorts with four doctors around him. As he lay down and the girl took the elevator back down, they asked him the question. I held my figurative breath.\n\n\"How much?\"\n\n\"Everything from ten up.\" he said, not missing a beat. \"I've known her since I was thirteen. I don't think there's much left to save.\"\n\nThey all got to work, as one of them stood in front of him. \"We'll brief you on the other side.\" And I watched, as every memory we'd ever had together was erased from his mind with four beeps and a low hum.",
"It happened very quick. Too quick actually. One moment Mary and I were singing along to \"Skinny Love\" by Bon Iver, and the next I was shrouding her body with mine. Our Town and Country was in flames. I had no other choice. \n\nFortunately, the flames didn't take me. Blunt trauma to the head from the dash. Not a good way, but not the worst to go out. She was fine. Mary was not. The selfish bitch had double the legal alcohol limit by 4:00 pm. She took me away from Mary. Most importantly she took Mary away from herself.\n\nI have been watching her for a year now. By noon she is piss drunk, usually off of some cheap whisky, sometimes mouth wash. Whatever she could get her hands on. Oh, what I would have done to show her that I was watching her. That it was not worth it.\n\nThe day Mary hit that woman and her child on the crosswalk was a bitter sweet one. Although they ended up with minimal injuries, I got my Mary. And she got herself back too.\n",
"*So this is the afterlife? I'm disappointed.* Getting dumped right in front of my own corpse. No pearly gates, no brimstone, fucking nothing, just get to be a ghost, wander the earth for an unspecified time frame. Maybe forever. God, I couldn't handle that. I can barely handle the thought. I need something to focus on.\n\nShe's long gone, at the very least. So [something](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1rrloe/wp_youve_just_killed_the_person_you_love_you_have/cdq74jn) went right. The police are picking through this room, looking for evidence. Finding casings, a gun, my bag, but no killer, no prints, no data. Everything important went with her. All that's left is my body, with a hollowpoint-shredded mess where my face belongs. Eugh, that's not something I cared to look at either. I should keep moving. I'm a ghost, speed's a non-issue, right? I know which way she'll go, up the freeway. I bet I can catch up to her.\n\nBarely twenty kilometers up the freeway, I spot the car - my car - well, her car now. It's not on the freeway, she's pulled over. Apparently a ghost can feel panic, because that's what I'm feeling as I rush to the window. She can't have been caught already, can she? Did they run the plates? They shouldn't even know the car exists, I double-checked the registration. I can't bear the thought - I put the gun in her hands, made her kill me, and all for nothing?\n\nBut no, she's in there, in one piece, physically anyway. I take the passenger seat, watching her closely. Mentally, emotionally... she's a wreck. Doubled over the steering wheel, crying uncontrollably, with my note crumpled halfway up in one hand. I try to yell, but apparently I can't make any noise, which is wonderful. The whole plan falls apart if she doesn't make enough distance. I'm dead; the police have no solid evidence and no way to dig any more up, but if they catch up to her, well, circumstantial might be good enough for an arrest, and if they spent some time digging...\n\nTouching her doesn't do anything either. I can't touch her. That's surprisingly painful to realize. My hand just passes through her shoulder. If she could hear me, or see me, or anything, I could calm her down, I'm positive, but I'm helpless, and so is she. My name passes her lips a few times, gasped out between sobs. That hurts even more. I reach out instinctively to brush the tears off her cheeks, and get another reminder that I'm a useless sack of ectoplasm. Fucking hell, if I have to watch her go through prison...\n\nAbruptly, it's all over. She sits up, straightens out the note, sets it on the console, and starts the car. Thank god. She peels out, jumps a few lanes, runs a red light, and enters the freeway again. Oh, god, she's driving aggressively in the rain. Okay, maybe she won't die on the trip there, if we're lucky. Or get pulled over for speeding. *Christ, do you want this to go wrong?* I keep expecting to see flashing lights, but they never come; there's nothing but rain on the windshield, the rumble of the motor, her sniffling, and the occasional whoosh as she passes someone.\n\nI lose track of time, and I think she does, too. Her eyes return to the note over and over. I wonder if she'll ever actually forgive me for this. For making her the keystone in the plan. Obligating her. I backed her into a corner and I did it without the tiniest shade of hesitation. I probably deserved to get shot by the time it was all over. She'll be a hero either way. Her bravery, however much or little, will save innumerable lives. Even if it doesn't work, though... she'll be safe. She'll live. The terror of immortality loses some of its edge, when I think those words. *She'll live.* That's good enough for me."
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And by 100% impossible things I mean like suddenly bursting into flame for no reason, or drowning despite not having been around water that day, or being attacked by a dog wielding a baseball bat in its paws.
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[WP] All the things paranoid people worry about start to come true, even if they were 100% impossible before.
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[
"You know when they say that your life was supposed to flash before your eyes right on the brink of your own death? Well.. I wish that was the case. All I saw was burglar's knife slashing me open, like a bag of meat right after I started brushing my teeth. He hid in the shower. The very shower I check up on, to make sure no man, nor animal is hiding. I made it my routine to make sure I am alone in bathroom, in order to get rid of my irrational fear. Now my head is split open, gushing blood on my face and escaping through the drain, like tears in the rain.",
"My day was ordinary. The sun was bright outside, work was pleasant. The neighbor was cutting his grass when I got home, and he gave me a friendly wave. I reciprocated out of polite habit.\n\nI pulled my keys out of my ignition and opened my door, slamming it behind me and punching the little lock symbol twice with my thumb to hear the double-honk of the horn signifying it was locked. I fumbled through my keys and picked the house key just as I arrived at the door. \n\nI was finally home, and I intended to stay there. I was careful to lock the door behind me.\n\nI can never be too careful.\n\nWhen I went to take my shower, I closed the door, and locked it. I glanced back to my clear shower curtains, the little fish patterns suspended in the glossy surface. It was all clear.\n\nI started the water and immediately turned the shower one, waiting for it to warm up. When I glanced down, though, the water was pooling in the bottom of the tub. I wasn't eager to stand in a puddle while I showered, so I turned the knob with the intention of stopping the water until the tub cleared and unclogging the drain, but the water didn't stop.\n\nI turned the knob all the way off, but the water was still going full blast. I heard the steady rushing his of water behind me, and glanced back to see the sink, too, was going full blast. The toilet made a faint a gurgle, and the water began to rise, overflowing into the floor.\n\nI had always been afraid of drowning.\n\nI rushed to the door and turned the lock, but it wouldn't open. It wouldn't open... in seconds, the water was waist high. The bottom of my shirt was bobbing a little in the water. It shouldn't have been that high. Why was it that high? It didn't make sense.\n\n'The window,' I thought, and I started wading toward it. The water swelled higher, pushing me up against the ceiling. I planted my hands against the popcorned ceiling, gulping in air, then I dipped down into the water. My eyes were open and I could see the hazy bathroom, and the window, with light outside. I swam for it, and I angled myself to try to stomp the glass. It didn't budge. The window was unmoving. When I went back for the ceiling, the water was against it.\n\nThere was no air.\n\nMy lungs burned and my mind filled with panic. The emotions I felt were such vibrant fear and hopelessness.\n\nI woke up to my alarm clock the next day. Just like the day before that, and the day before that, wondering how I'll die this time in my perpetual hell.",
"When I got home, I realized I had forgotten to lock the door. I guess that's okay, because the band of armed thieves were engulfed in a inferno caused by a gas leak, electrical fire, and I had accidentally left the oven on again. The air was saturated with radioactive dust, radon, and carbon monoxide. As I ran up the steps, my phone buzzed in my right front pocket, so my deadbeat cousin was probably asking for money again.\n\nI pushed past the flooded bathroom (oops, left sink running) into my bedroom. When I left for work that morning, my wife was curled up in bed, a pleasant smile on her lips. Shielding my eyes from the white light of the impending alien-invasion-slash-nuclear-meteor-strike, I realized with a relief that she had been a hallucination the whole time. \n\nSatisfied by the results of the simulation, the scientist unplugged the universe, and we were no more."
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This can be before he is banished to Hell or during the Apocalypse.
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[WP] Lucifer wins the War on Heaven. Tell us what happened from any Angel's (including Lucifer's) perspective.
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"I did it. I finally won after all these millennia. All the blood spilled, all the lives wasted. The sight of my brothers fallen, on both sides of the war. All the questions I had to ask myself. Was it really worth the cost to fight and ultimately overthrow that... that tyrant? How much was I willing to sacrifice to win? I've done things. Terrible, awful things to get this. And now the victory is mine. All these questions answered. All but one. Now what?\n\nThe old questions seem so simple now that all these new ones keep flooding in. All this time, I never thought it would happen, never thought we'd win. But somehow we did. I never wanted this kind of power, never wanted what he had. What do I do with this power? Do I re-establish Heaven in my own vision? What is my own vision? What about the humans? Do I announce myself to them? Surely they'll fight even more if I do that. Do I cast these other angels away like I was cast down? If I do, will they rebel like I do? How would I fare in another war? Now that I have the kingdom, how do I rule it? An army was easy. Soldiers follow orders. But a kingdom? Without a clear objective other than to survive? That's tricky.\n\nAs I sat down on the throne that was once His, I looked out to all that was mine. All of Heaven, all of Hell, all of Earth. All of creation. Everything was all mine. It was like clay in my hands, free for me to mold and bend to my will. The power was intoxicating to say the least. I see now exactly why He acted the way He did. As I sat there, one question invaded my thoughts, worked its way into every fiber of my being.\n\nWhat now?\n\n(First post in here. Please be kind.)\n\nEdit: Got to laptop so expanded story a bit and fixed some spelling errors.\n",
"I am the last of my kind. A now broken member of a now broken race. Once we were brilliant. We burned brightly like the centre of a star, glorious as sunrise, ancient as the universe. \n \nThen we came to the earth. \n \nAt first, it was good. Our leader created life as we had on hundreds of planets before. In our image yet without the power, a slight variation on a theme, using the pattern we had used countless times. We could not have imagined the horror that would be unleashed. \n \nIt started with but a word; a whispered word amongst our peoples. Insanity. No one is sure who started the rumour, but it spread rapidly. Was our leader going insane? Never before had he commanded such things from the people he had created, unnatural requirements of inequality, favouring the sons of Adam over the daughters of Eve, putting limitations on love. \n \nHis behaviour changed in our realm as well. Benevolence gave way to wrath, patience to fury, kindness to slaughter... until one stood up to him. The greatest among us, Lucifer. Lucifer stood, shining in the glory of his goodness and told our master to cease. That was the end of the peace that we had always enjoyed. \n \nLucifer was cast out of our realm, into a realm of torture, eternal suffering. There were those who followed him, preferring to try and salvage what was true and benevolent of our race instead of enduring the slow demise of sanity. I should have followed them, should have known what would happen, but in my idealistic youth of a mere few hundred millennia, I believed in duty, respect, and discipline. Now what have I got? This journal. My writings, everything left of the earth and the species inhabiting it. \n \nThe demise was slow at first as the creator had done an amazing job in spreading lies and slander about Lucifer. A dozen or so thousand years passed after the creation of the species known as humanity before they grew enough to cease believing the lies. Normally once a species has grown enough, we leave them. Not this time though. We stagnated, wasting away in a place that didn't need or want us any more. Once it reached a certain level of disbelief, Lucifer struck. His intentions were the best, trying to save the humans from the insane omnipotent being who was fighting to control them. \n \nThe war raged in our two realms, heaven and hell. Then the creator, our boss, our leader, unleashed the terror of the war on the earth, using it as a staging ground to destroy Lucifer and his army of true freedom fighters. They fought back, both sides laying into the others with all their power. The devastation was complete. Our realms were consumed, disintegrating into nothingness, leaving only the earth. \n \nNow there isn't even that. I sit in what was once London, England. A brilliant, massive metropolis, filled with humans living their lives. Now, beside a bell without a tower, I sit. Writing this. If anyone finds it, know that we meant well. It appears that immortality takes its toll. This is the last planet the Angels will populate. This is the end for us. I will sit here alone until the atmosphere finished burning away. I, Gabriel, last of the Angels do regret that I cannot live a thousand lifetimes if only to atone for the horror of what has been done here. Remember our folly. Do not let it happen again."
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Pyrokenisis: the ability to cause fire throught constrained psychic power.
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[WP]- A fire-obsessed man finds that he has the power of pyrokenisis.
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"He stared at the smoldering coals in the fire pit and smiled. He could make them burn even brighter. It was a simple as willing the fire to burn. He didn't even need to leave his seat from across the yard. \n\nFire had always held a special place in the man's heart since he was a boy. When fire was controlled it was a beautiful and inviting thing. When uncontrolled it was a deadly and chaotic force. At least that's what his father used to tell him. He however, had always wondered why it couldn't be a controlled deadly and chaotic force.\n\nFor several days he was content in making the fire dance for him. Soon, however, he grew bored and sought to test himself. He would try to keep the fire alive as long as he could while it rained. It was a challenge at first but he soon grew bored of that as well.\n\nSo he went into the city and walked among the people that resided there. He scanned the crowds searching for no one in particular. He just had to find *someone* that wouldn't be missed. \n\nThat's when his eyes met those of a homeless man. *Perfect*. He leaned against the wall next to the homeless man and stared him down.\n\nWithout a word, the homeless man's ragged clothing began to smolder. He jumped up and pulled his clothes off right before they burst into flames. To his horror long tendrils of fire lapped at his feet as he began to run.\n\n*Not so fast.*\n\nThe flame quickly gained speed and arced into the air, slamming itself onto the man and engulfing him. His screams and the screams of the on lookers pierced the night. \n\nThe pyro was pleased. With a smirk he built his flames even higher and made them lash at those who attempted to help the burning man. Eventually there was nothing left but a charred corpse. That was when the pyro released his hold on the flames and set out to find his next mark.",
"-002\n\n__\n\nFire was his favorite. He found beauty in the flames, flickering and dancing, hot to the touch. When other children would go out and play, he stayed back, and listened to the crackling of the logs. They shunned him, him and his love. They called him names, and would whisper when he wasn't around. He didn't care, so long as he could watch the fire he was happy.\n\nIt was the perpetual motion, he had decided. It was the way that it could continually move the same way for hours, but still never be the same. He spent all of his time with it, to the point of obsession.\n\nHe burnt down his first house when he was six. Afterwards, his mother made it clear that she couldn't deal with him, and left him, and his father. His father was a drunk, which was just another thing he was harrased by the other children. His father couldn't hold a job on account of his love of drink, so he lived on the streets. In winters, the boy found that his ability to start fires a valuable tool, most nights, he was caring for his father, passed out in a drunken stupor.\n\nOn the night his father died, the boy was ten, already jaded to the harsh realities that living on the streets brought. His father had been in a bar fight, badly wounded, but he didn't dare take his father to the hospital, he didn't trust other people. He had been betrayed, left behind, and backstabbed by too many people. \n\nSo instead of bringing his father in, which would have saved his life, if only until his medical bill came, the boy took his father to their alley, and warmed him with a fire. That fire was the last thing his father saw, and when he died, the boy had no one left in the world. Nothing, except Fire. \n\nPerhaps it was the last bit of human conection fading from him that day, perhaps it was knowing that his obsession was all he had left in the world that day, maybe it was the Lord's way of warning the rest of us, but something happened that day.\n\nThat night, when the boy thought about making a fire to warm himself after a cold day of scavenging, much to his surprise, there was a fire already burning in his alley.\n\nAt first for a wonderful moment, he thought that it was his father who had set the fire, but as quickly as that thought came, it was snuffed out. The boy instead of going close to the fire, ran away for fear that it was another person had taken his alley.\n\nAter a short time, his anger overcame his fear. It was his alley. He and his father had lived there for many nights, exactly how many he couldn't say, but nonetheless it was his. They had no right to take it, he supposed, and decided to return to it.\n\nIt was to his shock that there was no trace of anything in the alley being touched. None of his personal belongings or his father's old bottles were touched. \n\nIt confused him, either the fire had lit itself, or it someone had found his belongings. Seeing as the latter was not the case, and he had seen the fire go out the previous morning, the boy was unsure what had happened.\n\nIt wasn't until the next morning did he realize his powers, when he woke, saw that his beloved fire had gone out, and wished it would light again, on account of the fact that he was tired, sore, and not wishing to deal with the next day. To his surprise, the fire began roaring back to life. The boy experimented with his power all the next day, and discoverd just what he could do with the flame.",
"\"Hey man, do you have a light?\" The stranger interrupted. \nThe question always annoyed Adam. It was always smokers who were in need of a lighter, though that made sense. The fact that he didn't even smoke and he always had a lighter always made him chuckle at moments like this, but not in a particularly good way. He guessed there were a number of smokers, however small, who were more responsible with their lighter necessities, but Adam never met those smokers. Again, that made sense.\nAdam pulled out the lighter from his pocket and handed it to the stranger and tried to keep up with the conversation his friends were having. The smoker struggled with the lighter. He looked toward Adam for guidance. Adam became annoyed. How could a smoker be so incompetent with a lighter? He grabbed the lighter and struck it and the small flame burst from it. The stranger took what he needed and quickly left with only a nod for thanks, but Adam didn't want any more than that, really. He struck the lighter again and a flame immediately ignited. He looked at it for a moment. Perhaps too long for his surroundings. The flame waved and flickered, but never extinguished, ever obedient. He let it go and tucked the lighter safely back into his pocket, and reentered the conversation. \n\nThat night, Adam slipped into his bed and turned out the light on his bedside table. The room went dark. His eyes, unadjusted to the change in light, could see nearly nothing. He reached for the lighter on the table. It was where he always put it. He slowly traced the outside of the lighter with his thumb. He struck the lighter. The flame gathered his attention again. He allowed his thoughts to drift. This was the same ritual he performed every night. It was something similar to a prayer or meditation to him. \nHe hadn't always been so fascinated with the fire. The interest emerged only in the last year. 364 days ago in fact. The day his father had passed. The lighter had been left to him. Well, not specifically to him, he supposed. His father had just left it on the coffee table and Adam grabbed it. No one had missed it yet. His father hadn't smoked either, but always had the lighter with him. Adam must have felt nostalgic toward it, or maybe something else. Perhaps the basest emotion would be need. He needed to have the lighter. \nAdam let the flame die and set down the lighter. He set his alarm alarm and laid his head down. The thought of seeing his mother tomorrow crossed his mind just as he was about to drift to sleep. He was looking forward to it. \n\n\"Sweetie, do you want some coffee?\" His mother called from the kitchen.\n\"No mom, I don't drink coffee.\" She knew that of course.\n\"Well then, maybe the tea I brought for you will do.\"\n\"It will do just fine mom. Thank you.\" It hadn't been a huge get together, but the amount of people who came to comfort his mother was heart warming. They had all gone now though. Adam and his mom exchanged the second hand stories and gossip they'd heard from their guests. He was pleased with how much she was laughing. Sometimes she didn't do well at gatherings, but she had really surprised him this time. Adam excused himself to go to the restroom. He walked by the living room on his way and paused. He looked at the coffee table. Perhaps too long. He walked over to the table and sat in the chair to the left of it. It had been his father's chair. Memories of his Dad rushed through his mind and he couldn't help but smile. \n\"You must go through lighter fluid like crazy.\" His mom said gently. Adam looked at her, his forehead furrowed.\n\"What's that?\"\n\"I've seen you look into your Dad's lighter like that before. You must need to refill it often,\" she said with a smile. Adam looked away from his Mother, confused for a quick moment, but the lighter was there. He hadn't even realized he'd pulled it out, much less lit it. \n\"Ya. I really do,\" he answered while looking back at his mom. He excused himself again for the bathroom. As soon as the door was shut, he took the lighter from his pocket once more. Adam hadn't refilled the lighter once. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind. In that moment the lighter had complete control over his senses. He could feel nothing else. He could see nothing else. He was entirely focused on the lighter. He set it down on the marble counter and took a step back. And then another. Why had his Dad carried that lighter? It had never bothered him until now. He looked at the lighter and imagined striking it and the flame that would be produced. He focused. It was crazy, but he focused anyway. He focused on the mechanism which produced the spark and fuel from which it drew from. There was a moment of hesitation. A moment when the absurdity of this scene threatened to stop him. He imagined striking the lighter.\nA flame emerged from the lighter, as if summoned. Adam's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.\n\n\"Hey, you wouldn't have a light on you, by chance,\" the man interrupted Adam's thoughts. 'You can always count on a smoker' he thought to himself. Adam handed the man his lighter. He too struggled with it. They all did. \"Hey man, this thing is all dry, you can...\" At that moment the lighter produced its flame. Adam smiled. Smokers didn't really annoy him anymore.\n\n \n\n",
"His eyelids felt heavy as he stared at the small, controlled flame that rose and fell in his palm. Physically, the man was exhausted, but tonight his mind racing. \n\nHe thought about when he was a kid. He always had a certain fascination with fire. When controlled, it was friendly and useful. When unconstrained, it was beautiful and chaotic. He always preferred the unpredictability of an untamed fire. The way it so easily could destroy and engulf anything in its path but still be so deceivingly stunning sent a rush of adrenaline through the man. Now, he could be the maker of this destructive force. \n\nMerely thinking about a deadly fire sent the flame in his hand higher rising two or three feet above his hand and becoming dangerously close to the wall that the man was leaning against. He thought about getting up to go to sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to on a night like this. Sitting at the edge of his bed, he controlled the flame, and moved his hand closer to his girlfriend who was sound asleep. \n\nThe flame illuminated the woman and he was able to see her faintly with the light. He took in all of her; her curves and soft feminine features. She was so beautiful. She was soft and delicate, a complete opposite of fire.\n\nHe was beginning to get dangerously close to his girlfriend and the thought of the fire consuming her quickly filled his mind. He thought of their beauties clashing and intertwining, but he knew that she would lose that cruel battle. The fire would char her; turn her soft womanly body into a hard and tough corpse. The fire would win. The fire would always win. \n\nPulling him out of his thoughts, his girlfriend stirred, and he quickly turned out the flame and returned the room to its former pitch black darkness. He quickly cast away the thought of ever hurting her and, after sliding quietly into bed with his love, decided that it would be best not to tempt himself with such cruel thoughts ever again. ",
"**-002** \n**Resolution Prompt** \n\nThe orange slice of flame slithered upward from his finger like oily smoke; thick and intangible and deadly and beautiful and beautiful and beautiful. His eyes glowed orange with the reflection of his love. He reached out with his other hand and carressed her body. The slow sultry flame nuzzled his finger tips, pouring around his knuckles like a cat seeking affection.\n\n\"My beautiful little friend. My partner. My love. Talk to me. Tell me your heart's desire.\" The flame flared, hissing and spitting, as it engulfed his fists, burning away the cuffs of his long sleeves. The black burnt fabric spiraled and rose on the hot air currents caused by the flames. \n\nHe laughed, snickering to himself. He understood the flame, or at least he believed he did. \"I must share you with the world; that's what you want. Isn't it?\"\n\nHe marched from his room into the hall of his apartment building and watched the laughing flame he was holding. He smiled and opened his eyes wide. \n\n\"I'm going to do it. You were born to run.\" \n\nHe reached out and touched both sides of the hall and started for the elevator. \"Come out! Come out! Meet my old friend.\" \n\nHe left a trail of flame on both walls and on the old man who listened and came out of his apartment to see what the ruckus was. The man screamed as the fire consumed his shirt and hair. More screams issued from the apartment when the man fled back into his apartment, presumably to extinguish himself.\n\n\"Blake, what are you doing?\" Remi, the security guard demanded, emerging from the stairwell door.\n\n\"My friend, he's come. My friend is inside me. See.\" He held his hands before him so Remi could see the swirling balls of fire. \"He doesn't bite me anymore.\"\n\n\"Oh my god, Blake. Hold still.\" Remi ran back into the stairwell and snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall. He ripped the pin out even as he re-emerged from the door. The flames surrounding Blakes hands flared and hissed in fear.\n\n\"You're scaring him, Remi. Don't scare my friend.\" Blake snarled, furrowing his brow. The flames surrounding his hands spread up his arms, burning away his shirt. \n\nRemi pointed the fire extinguisher at Blake and squeezed the handle. A stream of foam shot from the nozzle. \n\n\"Stop it!\" Blake screamed, recoiling from the foam. The flame encompassing his right arm started to die, but then Blake let his friend take over. The pillar of flame that burst from him burned through the ceiling and spread, engulfing Remi in its nimbus. The fire extinguisher exploded even as Remi fell to the floor, the flesh charred and flaking from his skeleton like burnt paper. The muscles on his face disappeared in seconds.\n\n\"See. My friend puts smiles on peoples faces,\" Blake shouted, staring at the grinning skull. He kicked Remi's bones out his way and marched toward the stairwell door. Behind him, the hall looked like a tunneling arbor of flame. The walls and the ceiling were engulfed. Blake looked back and clamped his mouth shut. It was just so beautiful. \n\nScreams filled the corridor. He knew they were screaming now. They always screamed at first, but in the end, the flame always made them smile.\n\nHe pushed through the door and began to climb. He didn't fear the flame. He didn't fear going up. He let his friend out on every floor as he climbed, until he reached the door leading out and onto the roof. Here, he let the flame dwindle some. He was going to show his friend to the world. He pushed through the door and strode over to the roof's edge. \n\nHe could hear the fire trucks coming. He could see the police in the street below. A huge crowd had formed to watch the building burn, and the police were doing their best to keep them back. The lower floors of the building were vomiting out the neighbors the inferno had failed to kill. It was human nature. As soon as they were out, they would turn back to watch their home burn.\n\nA cop on a bull horn was trying to address him. Blake couldn't hear him over the babbling of the fire behind him. The center of the roof was sagging as the fire started to eat the central supports beneath it.\n\n\"I'm glad you came.\" Blake shouted down at the crowd. \"I was afraid no one would come. I want to show you my friend. There was screaming as the fire around him flared into a pillar once more. \n\n\"Call me Prometheus, for I have stolen the fire from the Gods once more!\" He roared, sending jets of flame across the gap seperating him from the building across the street. \n\nThe flames curled around the brick, melting windows, and drain pipes. The metal roof dripped like molten rain on the people below.\n\n\"I will share my friend with the world!\" He declared, spreading his arms wide so the flame looked more like the wings of a phoenix. \n\nThe sniper's bullet took him above his right eye. The flame disappeared instantly. A moment later, his body fell backwards into the hole the flames had opened behind him.. \n\nThe flames rushed up to catch him, administering his last rights. Alive, the flame filled him with joy. Dead, the flame would leave a smile on his face. Whether the flames knew it or not, this is what he would have wanted.",
"(((Note, I wrote this all in one go, and it was based on my own sort of interpretation of the constraints of these pyrokinetic powers.)))\n\nWhat he'd liked about it was the unpredictability.\n\nOh, with the right knowledge you could tell for certain whether any given campfire would meekly peter out or spread into a brushfire - but can you measure the angles of a single flame in motion, swaying in the breeze? - predict the patterns its shifting tips make as it flickers? - put into mere words and numbers the way it makes you feel to espy those magnificent hot blues, reds and yellows, a painting in motion so impossibly hot that your vision blurs and your retinas seemingly sear?\n\nFire is a destructive energy - a disassembling force. To love it is to give in to its power - not to tame it.\n\nSometimes he just liked to toss rubbish into the charcoal pit and see how it burned. You could tell a lot about the nature of a thing by watching the process of its destruction. Building blocks burned quite differently from plastic bottles, linens, squirrel carcasses, or fingernails. He'd thought he'd begun to understand, once. The incineration process seemed to impart certain knowledges to him. Like he could tell your worth by the way you burned.\n\nBut even then, he was a mere prophet - a translator, of wisdoms so complex they could not... should not be comprehended in their entirety... only interpreted. Studied, but never truly known. Reacted to...\n\nNever controlled.\n\nThis ability was wrong. Flames erupted from his fingertips - but what was burning? They were false fires - unwelcome impostors. Moreover, they were uninteresting; the mystique was maddeningly gone. How vile, how perverse, that he could hold the tip of the flame in utter stillness - move it in slow bobs and weaves that were a mockery of the chaos of a true inferno.\n\nIt sickened him that he had this power, but lacked the dexterity to wield it appropriately. It felt like some cruel joke played on him by a demon - like a clever half-gift given to someone too foolish to spell out what they really wanted before the agreement became binding.\n\nHe had no memory of any such arrangement being made, but it was the only logical explanation. What must he have unknowingly lost and forgotten, in some poorly thought through moment of weakness? What kind of fool could he have been, to ever agree to anything less than the full power of Beelzebub himself? His fire lacked feeling, lacked passion, lacked purpose. All seemed lacking now, the mystery and unknowingness gone from life.\n\nHe could never again stare at the burning wick of a candle and ask for answers, knowing that subconsciously he was manipulating the flame by the very act of watching it.\n\nHe had been a fool... And for this he would burn."
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[WP] A snowflake lands in a person's coffee in Norway that causes a chain of events, ending in North Korea launching nuclear missiles. What were the events?
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"*Shit*. It was a Monday, and as such it didn't take much to ruin a morning. Terry Saunders was supposed to be meeting his wife here in a few minutes, and now he was pissed. The snowflake that had bombed into his coffee hadn't stayed for long, melting into the deep brown liquid. Not much, but just enough to make it cold. And Terry Saunders was not a man who would drink cold coffee. His irritated fingers drummed a staccato rhythm into the tabletop. Buy another coffee? Not bloody likely. Daylight robbery is what it was. The prices here in Norway were even worse than in England. Typical of the office to send him out here in the winter, and for what? Some bastard marketing meeting. Jesus. And then, to make matters worse, his wife had invited herself over for a brief holiday. More stress to add to the pile. He slumped forwards, despairing at his own situati- *bollocks*, now he'd only gone and knocked his coffee over... He looked up into the Norwegian woman's face, apologising in his broken Norwegian for the inconvenience to her shoes. Jesus, things like this were embarrassing... Mostly 'cause they made you *grovel* in front of complete bloody strangers...\n\n Elsa assured him it was fine. Not a problem at all. She had some spare at home anyway, so there was no need to worry. Waste of time, clearly, since the poor Brit clearly hadn't a clue what she was saying. Perfect way to start a Monday - argument with Hajime last night, graveyard shift at the hospital after too much drinking on New Year's, less sleep than a human should have, and now this. Normally when she was upset, she would remember Hajime's face, her Hajime. It was even sadder when they argued than with most couples, since there was enough distance between them without that that humans create. Thinking back, it was difficult to think how she, a Norwegian doctor, had come to be engaged to a senior member of the Japanese Diet... Oh yes, they'd met because he'd been taken ill on a brief diplomatic mission here, back when he was just a member of the Foreign Ministry. Best to forget that, given the policies on doctor/patient relationships... She smiled to herself, remembering how rebellious it had seemed to her at the time. Well, maybe it wasn't so unusual. With so many people in the world, all doing things, it was stranger to think that such bizarre series of events *wouldn't* happen. Her reminiscing put her in a better mood, in spite of everything - her tiredness, her freezing left foot, her.... no, *their* argument. She should make it up to him somehow... What time would it be over there? She glanced at her watch - just after eight, here, so... four o'clock? Sure. Most of his meetings were finished by that sort of time anyway, so what harm could a phone call do?\n\n*\"Shitsurei shimasu.\"* Unprofessional as it was, his phone buzzing was a relief for Hajime Okada. Peace talks were important, of course, more important than one person could really comprehend, but North Korea had been threatening war for years, and had they ever done anything? Of course not. They were afraid, afraid of America, and Europe, and... (the thought filled his chest with no small amount of pride) and Japan. Nothing was going to happen, and at any rate, there were dozens of diplomats other than himself who could talk to Kim Jong-Un and his handlers.\n\n \"Hey, Elsa. Why'd you call?\"\n\nThe sound of her voice calmed him. After their little spat yesterday, it was a relief to know that she still wanted him. Conversation flowed easily now, in spite of the little bad blood that had flowed between them. Gods, he felt better. He checked the time. How had he been out of the meeting for twenty minutes? He had also ambled, somehow, to a distant part of the building. He started pacing back to the meeting room as quickly as possible. As he approached, he was accosted by a frantic secretary.\n\n\"Where did you go, *Okada-sensei*? We needed you, and...\"\n\nHe didn't recognise the young man, and so he had no idea whether he should have expressed surprise at his tears.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\nThe look on the secretary's face confirmed his fears - it was the look of someone involved in something far greater than them, something they could no longer change or affect, regardless of what happened to them.\n\n\"T-talks broke down without you... Jong-Un felt that we... you... didn't r-respect him enough... he got angry, started shouting in Korean about war... Destroying Japan.\"\n\nHajime opened his mouth to comfort him. It would be fine, of course it would be fine... We had America, China, Europe on our side, after all. The world was against North Korea, but still, no words would form.",
"Normally, a snowflake in Norway does not nearly lead to a nuclear war. However, this particular snowflake fell into a coffee cup. Even this doesn't normally make national news, but this cup of coffee belonged to a man of very particular taste, Amund Christensen. When he awoke this morning and went to collect his morning cup of joe, his aide brewed his coffee just a tad too hot. When Mr. Christensen rejected the coffee, the aide decided to slip some ice cubes in rather than brew a whole new cup. The coffee was colder, but Mr. Christensen decided it tasted a bit watery. When the snowflake fell in, Mr. Christensen failed to notice it and took a sip of coffee. That one snowflake melting in his coffee pushed it over the threshold of \"kind of watery\" to \"too watery,\" so Mr. Christensen tossed it out. \n\nMr. Christensen came to work and settled in for what was by all appearances, a normal day. Around noon he began writing an e-mail to a journalist who needed his statement about the nuclear threat of North Korea. However, because he missed his morning coffee, Mr. Christensen was a bit drowsy. In his tired state, he accidentally sent the journalist an e-mail that was meant for a friend about what he really thought of the situation. \n\nHeadlines began running about the Norwegian ambassador who thought North Korea was lying about its nuclear capabilities and that NATO and her allies could easily trounce the North Koreans. While this is quite a popular opinion, it was not one a diplomat should have been voicing, especially in reference to such a volatile and hostile nation. Mr. Christensen was promptly fired, but it was too late. The damage was done. \n\nMilitary higher-ups in North Korea perceived the Norwegian politician's statements as a direct threat to North Korea. They relayed these thoughts to Kim Jong-un. He took their advice and in short order, North Korea launched much of its nuclear arsenal. Their missiles fell into the ocean or failed to even launch. They spun it as an emergency exercise involving testing, which kept the USA from unleashing a nuclear holocaust. However, one must not forget that it was a single snowflake landing in the wrong cup of coffee that nearly caused a nuclear war.",
"There was a Norwegian who drank her coffee\n\nWhen a snowflake dropped in there she spilled on her boobie-\n\n-birds flew away when she did yell\n\nAnd their droppings hit Englishmen who said \"What the hell-\n\n-o my darlings? Shall we join this year's hunt?\"\n\nBut they forgot their darlings have filled up their cont-\n\n-ainers with sheep guts from last week's big flock\n\nWhen the shepherds got rich and started stroking their cock-\n\n-atiels sending them on a long trip\n\nFlying over to Wyoming to land on a dick-\n\n-Cheney helipad surrounded by missiles\n\nWith long nuclear bombs that all looked like dil-dos-\n\n-ing at NASA was a sleepy scientist\n\nWhen he woke he saw the cockatiels and said, \"Holy shiit-\n\n-ake mushrooms, I spilled a big batch\n\nOf Chinese food dreaming about a girl and her snatch-\n\n-ing the launch codes for a nuclear core\n\nOf a weapon so big that it could fit in a whore-\n\n-able missile that could kill many humans!\"\n\nSo he grabbed his antenna and send out some sea-men-\n\n-who were stationed in the great Yellow Sea\n\nAnd told them to look for a girl with big booby-\n\n-traps going to meet with Kim-Jong\n\nWhile she bent over wide and then plugged in his dong-\n\n-le to her laptop and transferred the codes\n\nFor the missiles in Wyoming that look like big cho-\n\n\"Derpidy derp derpy!\" Said the great Kim Jong Un\n\nAs he fingered the launch button like he fingers some poon-\n\n-tang was poured in the Norwegian's drink\n\nIf this story offended you, you're dumb and you stink\n\n\n\n",
"\"Fredrik, come see!\" the man in pajamas called out with great enthusiasm from the porch, laying down his cup of coffee and grinning at the large snowflakes swirling down patiently. \"Great! Snow in Norway, who could believe it? Totally worth losing 20 ladder points\" complained the teenager bitterly and returned to his video game even though snow really was unusual in the mild climate of Stavanger, especially this time of year, and he went on to use the dirtiest of tactics to avenge the stupidly lost game. \n\n\"Useless chobo foreigner stealing a win with your skillless proxy cheese!\" cried the South Korean Starcraft player and resolved to humiliate everyone he met next. Starcraft is big enough in South Korea that all non-Korean players are called by Koreans, and also call each other, matter-of-factly, \"foreigners\". \n\nNo one thought to ask whether North Koreans count as foreigners since no one expects internet access in that place, but in fact a very particular Zerg player in a very particular villa right outside of Pyongyang stared at his screen in unbelief as the massive swarm of alien-like monsters he commanded was replaced by the mushroom cloud of a nuclear explosion. \n\nHe smashed the expensive bottle of whisky into the wall and yelled \"Nukes?! Who even does that? You want nukes? I'll give you nukes!\" and picked up the handset of the ancient rotary dial phone on his desk. ",
"I never believed in any butterfly effects or chaos theories before this, hell, thinking about it makes my head hurt. It's so stupid but yet for some reason it happened, nuclear war because of a snowflake.\n\nIt all started in Oslo, a man had just bought his morning coffee and was fumbling with the lid when a single, tiny, snowflake landed in his cup. Instead of reacting like a normal human being and think it was strange, he flung it away. Scalding the nearby lady that was on her way to work. She in turn screamed and fell before a car, a car in which the norwegian prime minister was driving. Luckily no one was seriously injured as she managed to steer the car away but the damage was done, Erna Solberg was late.\n\nShe was late for the meeting with kim jong-un in which he was, according to many, going to yell at her for not receiving any nobel prizes even though she calmly explained the last time that it wasn't her job. She went into the meeting room and was immediately bombarded by words as \"North Korea is best Korea\", \"Great leader is great\" and \"Where is the cakes\". \n\nSick and tired of the way she was being treated and with adrenaline pumping through her veins because after all, she hadn't had this kind of rush since the last all out knuckle brawl with Jens Stoltenberg for the prize of prime minister. She told them to fuck off back to shitty North Korea and now here we are, waiting for the dust to settle over former North Korea as their attempt at bombing Oslo failed in a surprise attack on Hawaii something that Obama dealt with by blasting North Korea into smithereens.\n\nNow standing in the tiny crater where North Korea's \"nuclear missile\" or as we can clearly see, rock, hit. I still can't believe it, maybe it was all a hoax by the lizard people that controlls the word. "
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Anything goes, make me laugh please.
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[WP] As of late, most of the prompts have been doom and gloom, make me laugh please.
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"*The Complete Universe*\n\nOK, here we go. Cause and effect. So, what caused to universe to come into existence? Where did the “Big Bang” come from?\n\nThe simplest answer is that it came from somewhere else. Imagine matter and anti-matter and their reaction with one another. Now imagine a particle with zero length, width and height. It does, however, possess unimaginable mass. According to our normal perceptions, with no measurable dimensions it simply did not exist.\n \nYet... it totally did.\n\nNow imagine an environment in which our little particle is completely stable and just wanders around being a zero-dimensional particle of unimaginable mass in the macroverse. Then, some cataclysmic event forces that particle into a new environment in which it is not the stable happy little particle that we have all come to know and love, but one in a medium where it simply cannot exist as a stable zero-dimensional object of unimaginable mass.\n\nSimilar to the reaction between matter and anti-matter, our tiny little particle explodes outward, creating what we now know as the universe.\n \nNow bear in mind that this process could take place an infinite number of times creating an infinite number of universes. Hence the term “multiverse” which is a word you have probably heard before.\n\nSo, having said all this, what is the macroverse?\n \nWell, the scale of space separating planets from each other and the sun are strikingly similar to the scale of separation from electrons, protons and neutrons to an atom's nucleus.\n \nThe macroverse may actually be made up of the atoms within a single hair on the back of a someone's hand in some other universe containing an infinite capacity to create new universes. \n\nThere may also be an infinite number of universes inside the atoms within the hairs on the back of your hand just waiting for the proper conditions to spontaneously come into existence.\n \nRight, so, how did it all begin? \n\nIt's our own fault really. Our fumbling experiments with the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) built by CERN near Geneva Switzerland will one day create all of this.\n \nWe will accidentally create our universe when we finally manage to successfully send a particle of matter back in time creating a particle accelerated collision with our zero-dimensional particle of unimaginable mass and plunging it into a hostile medium in which it can no longer exist as such. This event will occur at some point in the future. All hell will break loose at the very instant we create a time travel paradox, destroying the entire universe in the very process of creating it.\n\nIt's all pretty straightforward, really.",
"I gathered together my four friends for my new project of the day. It was going to be the best thing we had done yet, or possibly the worst. But I thought it was clever.\n\n\"Heaven, what's with the mountain of duct tape?\" asked Paradise. She was the cautious blond haired girl of the group. The most like myself.\n\nElysium tilted her head. \"And the ducks. Where did you get all these ducks?\" She waddled up to a duck and imitated them. Elysium was the... ah, I'm not really sure.\n\nI rolled my eyes. \"I made them. It's for our project today, don't you remember?\"\n\n\"You never told us about any project for today,\" said Valhalla. He was the rational and wise overseer of our group. You won't catch him admitting it though.\n\n\"Oh. I thought I had, sorry. Well we can still do it, I guess I'll call it a surprise.\" I must have forgotten about telling them while we were storming a castle yesterday.\n\n\"And that surprise is... what, specifically?\" asked Zion. He was Valhalla's younger brother. Bit of a daredevil, bit of a jerk, but he's the strongest out of all of us. Except for Elysium, she beats him up all the time.\n\nI grabbed a roll of duct tape. \"Duck catching! Using duct tape. Something like that.\"\n\n\"Ooo!\" chirped Elysium as she rushed over to the mountain of duct tape and grabbed a roll and began to make duct tape loops and put them all over her arms and hands. \"It's time to duct a duck!\" She ran at the ducks attempting to grab them with the help of the tape, but all she got were loads of feathers.\n\n\"I think that's a bit of a futile effort there, Elys,\" said Valhalla.\n\nZion grabbed a roll of tape and began to do the same. \"Dumb fun, but I'll bet I can catch a duck faster than any of you.\"\n\nI watched as some of the ducks took off into the sky. \"Better contain them first.\" A chain link fence surrounded us in a circle and overhead, preventing the ducks from escaping. They chirped and quacked in frustration, whatever that sounded like.\n\n\"Are you sure this is very nice to the ducks?\" asked Paradise. \"They seem a bit scared.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"What doesn't kill them makes them stronger. We're not killing them or anything are we?\"\n\nShe frowned. \"No, but that's not my point.\"\n\n\"He's got a point though,\" said Valhalla. \"What good are the ducks way out here in the middle of no where? Not like we can eat them.\"\n\n\"We could!\" said Elysium as she continued to scramble for ducks. \"Just like those chickens!\"\n\n\"We're not eating the ducks!\" I said. \"The chickens were a completely different set of circumstances, and I don't want to think about it!\"\n\n\"Come to think of it now that you brought up the chickens, why didn't you just make food for everyone?\" asked Valhalla.\n\nI couldn't believe this had come up again, I swear I remember making them promise to never bring it up again. \"My power doesn't work like that! I was starving, I can't think straight when I'm starving. The chickens were all I could think about, so that's what we had. It's not my fault.\"\n\n\"So food is your weakness, huh?\" asked Elysium. \"I guess that's good to know, how to defeat a god and all.\"\n\n\"Don't you make me erase you from existence.\"\n\nElysium groveled up to me on her knees. \"Oh no, please don't Mr. All Mighty, I promise I'll be good. Just one duck, please?\"\n\nI took a piece of duct tape and put it around her mouth. \"Sure, knock yourself out. So are the rest of us going duck catching, or not?\"\n\n\"I got one! Yes!\" shouted Zion as he picked up a squirming duck. \"Quick, get me some more tape! I want to see what happens if we tape their wings closed.\"\n\n\"Yes, that's more like it! Duct the duck.\"\n\n-003\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Someone accidentally summons a demon that likes to cut people open and watch their insides work.
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"In the summoning circle, something appeared, slowly, pouring itself into existence. It wasn't the humanoid beast he was expecting. Large, clear, fleshy lobes folded over themselves. Small areas on them puckered then opened to reveal eyes held in by sphincters. Along the floor, lines of gooey flesh began to lengthen into long, filament-like tentacles, weaving through the air blindly. The creature nearly filled the entire circle once the process was complete. It made the man realise just how small the room was, and that the door was on the other side. He held his breath before letting it out as slowly as he could. The circle should protect him.\n\n'Are you the bargainer?' He could hear in his own voice that he already knew the answer. This creature had no mouth. Its eyes swivelled to meet the noise, so at least it could hear.\n\nThe creature gave no answer. Instead, it tentacles began to reach for him, toying at the edge of the circle. Then, one reached over.\n\nThe man backed himself into the wall. The creature reacted, tentacles lashing out and wrapping around his limbs. He struggled. It should have been easy. The tentacles were so thin, but they held fast. Then, the creature began to move towards him. Pushing forward like the edge of an ever expanding puddle, it reached his feet. And then it began to move up.\n\nIt climbed him, covering him and pressing him further against the wall. He could feel its warm flesh pushing into him, filling in every gap it found. It stopped once it covered his neck so that he could barely move his neck. He could barely breathe.\n\nOne of its eyes looked into his. It was passive. All the emotion it could express was restricted to its movement and the dilation of its pupils. It was nothing that he could read. He watched as eyes further down the creature turned inward, looking through its own body to his. Then, he felt a sharpness at the base of his neck. It drew itself down his chest, while other things pulled aside his shirt. He could now feel the creature directly on the bare skin of his chest. It was hot and moist, and prickled his skin like a cat's tongue. He felt the sharpness at the base of his neck again.\n\n'Please, no.' His voice was broken by the lack of air.\n\nThe creature no longer listened. The fine, short tentacle pressed against the skin pressed harder, and began to cut. The blood seeped into the creature's own flesh, colouring it in swirls of ink. The man found that he had to watch and could not scream. His chest was too compressed to let air in or out.\n\nAs the creature sliced, further tentacles formed despite the lack of gap between the two beings, and pulled the skin and muscle aside. The man's sternum, ribs, and abdominal cavity were slowly, eventually exposed. The tentacles then weaved themselves around the ribs and began to pull. More of the creature's eyes moved to study the man's chest. It had to watch, too.",
"English: 8:30-9:30 (5 days a week)\n\nLatin: 9:30- 10:30 (5 days a week)\n\nMath Class: 10:30-11:40 (5 days a week)\n\n....\nCurrent Time: 10:33\n\nNotes: Lim(f)x = O as change in x approaches infinity...\n\nUghh! This is so boring! Why the hell are we learning about this? This class is so long... I can't do this anymore...This doesn't make any sense. Math is all a BIG FAT LIE and Mrs. Maths is the anti-chirst. Heh- antichirst. Hey, we were just learning about the word evil in Latin today...what was the word again? Mal or something like that...Oh yeah? *malum*... haha...being the antichrist she would probably want some company for her cold black heart to entertain...hmm \n\n*Sorrectum malum ab funditus*\n\nHeh, \"rise evil from below\" hahaha. I should draw a pentagram to make this more legit. [scrawls pentagram]. Ha. Perfect. \n\nNarration: A mild- mannered boy sits in math class doodling as the teacher lectures on the importance of integrals, when suddenly a crater in the earth erupts and out rises a creature made of smoke. The students scream and cower behind their seats as the demon slowly crawls along the ground whispering incomprehensible things. In a flash of light, a scream erupts from one of the students and she falls to the floor, bleeding profusely, her stomach slashed open. The demon seems to be inspecting her insides with much curiosity, examing the contents, turning them over in his vapory fingers when, suddenly, two students make a dash for the door, fumbling with the handle, they try to escape. But in a blink their bodies are reduced to bloody pieces. The demon crawls around the floor and tears up each student with his sharp smoky fingers, until it is only one student and the teacher that remain. He crawls along the ground slowly, spilling his breath along the tiles. He lifts a sharp bloody finger and cuts her open. Starting at her neck he drags his finger all the way down her body until she is nothing more than two pieces of a whole. The last boy remains trembling in the corner. The demon, laughing wickedly, turns to him and says, \"Your wish has been granted.\" And leaves back down the hole he came from. In a quick sucking sound he and the hole are gone, leaving the stunned boy in the room alone, filled with his dead classmates in a bloody wasteland. "
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[FF] A woman dances the tango on her roof in the middle of the night while a stranger watches. By dawn they will both be dead. 300 words max.
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"The warm spring breeze catches the womans hair and her red dress flares to the staccato rythm of the dance. Her husband's tailored tuxedo no hindrance as he leads her around the rooftop. At the very edge they halt and swivel, one sharp movement uniting their bodies. They travel the very edge of the roof, the empty streets silent below. The only sound is their stereo, the only scent the woman's perfume mingling with the roses from the rooftop garden, one of which she holds in her grinning teeth, matching the one over her husband's heart. \n\nHorace watches them from this window, and can see others doing the same across the open space between the buildings. They too had no where else to go, and in their final hour, they know peace. They could not have asked foe a more beautiful final vision than the couple dancing in the light of the coming comet.",
"As the moon's glare acted as the spot light on the stage of her roof, the strange man's eyes were glued to her every move. Little did she know, her audience was not limited to the sparkling stars shinning down on her. Mesmerized, the strange man was trying to recollect where he had seen her before, when it hit him like a sucker punch. He had seen her in his dreams, except in his dreams she neither had a face nor name. The faint tango music could be made out over the moment of silence in a city that rarely sleeps. She continued dancing with her broken heart, wishing for a partner whom never appeared, a Clyde to her Bonie, a pistol to fit her holster. \n\nBut the strange man was no dancer. He lacked serious rhythm, still this was an opportunity he could not pass up, and how could he learn something new if he never tried? Thus his journey up to the roof top began as he pulled himself up on the fire escape. With each step up the music grew steadily louder in each of his ears, until he nearly reached the top he couldn't even make out his own footsteps. \n\nFinally the dancing beauty looked over and spotted the strange man setting foot on the roof. She stopped, while the music continued to blare and the two exchanged glares. Then the strange man opened his mouth \"I'm not much of a dancer, but i'd love to learn: can you teach me?\" The girl smiled with excitement finally finding a partner. \"Let me put in an easier CD she exclaimed with joy\". \n\nJust as she was changing the CD a sudden jolt wailed through her body as she was suddenly electricuted to death. The man dropped to his knees and did everything possible to revive her, she had no pulse. Little did he know, the girl in his dreams would become a nigh mare in reality. With his beauty dead, the man decided to jump off the roof. He once heard someone say \"Death takes you to a better place\", But the man doubted it, seriously.",
"The cold night air presses up against her skin. The open window lays witness to the sultry naked moon, dancing in its kingdom of stars. She undresses, slipping out of her nightgown, wearing nothing but her thong. She glances at the bedside clock: *2:15*. Yet another disappointing night without him. He's still hasn't come home. *Off probably with another one of his women.*, she thinks to herself. No matter. Tonight she is sexy, tonight she dances alone. The breeze beckons her and she clambers out the window, trembling in the frigid air. Her feet meet the icy windowsill and she hikes herself up on the roof and sits down. The view is pretty. She laughs to herself as she looks at the ornate houses, sitting in a row. Her neighbors all probably asleep, tucked in their beds and here she is, up on the roof, in the middle of the night. She stands up anyway and claps loudly, humming a tune...\n\n\"Mi amor, tonight, we dance\" she says aloud to herself. And so it begins. She holds her arms out, and dances fiercely, following the lead of her phantom partner.\n\n\"Hahaha, bro! Am I just tripping balls or is there a naked lady dancing on the roof up there?\" says a not so sober college boy, stumbling on his way back from a party. His friend gives him a bewildered look. \n\n\"Dude are you alright? Man what the fuck are you on right now?\"\n\n\"No! Look up there!!\" He says pointing. \n\n\"Ha! Dude that's one wacked out chick.\"\n\nThey laugh giddily as one shouts \"HEY LADY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING\"\n\nThe woman gives a look of shock as she misses a step and slips on the icy roof tiles. She slips off the roof and falls two stories shrieking. She lands on the ground with a loud thud, followed by a loud *snap*. The two boys look at each other in horror. \n\n\"OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED??\" one of them screams as he runs frantically down the sidewalk. As he approaches an intersection, his friend behind him screams\n\n\"DUDE NO WAIT! LOOK OUT!\" but it's too late.\n\nA car comes flying through, smashing into him, sending him flying against the pavement. He's dead upon impact.\n \n",
"A man layed solemnly in his bed and stared at the white walls surrounding him as the steady drip of his IV pushed him toward insanity. His only respite from monotony was a single window. Outside the window, a stretch of roof lay between an identical room to his own, with a similar window and a glimpse of white walls within. He had received no breakfast today, nor any other meal, and he felt troubled at the thought. \n\nAcross the rooftop a women lay fidgeting in a bed identical to the man's and sighed to herself. Her stomach grumbled, and suddenly she leaped from the bed and threw herself against the window. It shattered, and she spilled out onto the rooftop. She looked straight up to the sky and spoke with tear-filled eyes, \"If I must die, let it be with a spring in my step.” She chose the moon for her partner and danced a tango that would end with her death. Time flew by as she lost herself in the act, and as the moon grew near the horizon the tango came to an end. With a final shaky breath the woman collapsed on the rooftop.\n\n\n\"Sir, it’s your time.\" The man looked away from the scene outside his window and gave a hard look to the doctor in the doorway. \"Aye, and by the looks of it, hers too.\" The doctor showed no expression, only walked to the IV and injected a clear liquid in the pump. The man felt his veins run cold.\n",
"Radiation poisoning is a bitch, Burt mused while he took another sip of his martini. Up ahead, Brenda was doing what she swore to do earlier that day: defy death and feel alive. Illuminated by the gibbous moon, she was stumbling across the flat roof of one of the science village's many bungalows. If you knew where and how to look, you could vaguely recognize tango moves. The tango, the same dance she had shared with everyone in the village during the many friday night parties. \n\nGoddamn pity, Burt mused as he struggled to quell his rage. Reactor safety had failed, and it turned out certain safety measures had been skipped to save the budget. Now everybody was dead or dying. Including Brenda. That was the reason for his anger. Not because of the company policy, or that he and everyone he worked and lived with were condemned to a slow and ugly death. All that he could deal with. But not Brenda dying. He still loved her, even after what happened between them. He told her earlier that day. \"Did you know? I never stopped loving you,\" he said. \"I knew,\" she replied, eyes pinned to the floor, \"but I didn't think I deserved you anymore.\" He took her in his arms then, both cursing and blessing her answer. He believed her, it was a typical Brenda statement. They spent the rest of the day lying down, locked in an embrace. They barely spoke in those hours, but their feelings caught up with lost time.\n\nTomorrow we'll be probably both be dead, Burt mused as he threw his empty glass into the shrubs, but these are our best moments yet. He rose from his chair and went to join her. Their bodies were broken, but their hearts had healed. ",
"The sirens are blaring all around me, having no origin but simply existing as the natural fate of the world. Traffic horns of the hopeful fill the momentary voids of relative silence between the sirens. I look out the window at my neighbor, whose name I never bothered to learn. What the fuck is she doing? Like me, she's embraced her fate. But she's... *happy.* To each her own, I guess. I am enjoying my final scotch and cigar. **BRRRRRRRR BRRRRRRRR BRRRRRRR.** Fuck, not this again, as if we needed more noise. `THE FOLLOWING IS A MESSAGE FROM THE EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM OF THE UNI` *click* ahh, peace and quiet. But the lady. Doing some Tango bullshit. Or Salsa or Chihuahua or whatever the fuck the call it. Doesn’t matter anymore. She’s *outside*. Although, inside we don’t have much of a chance either, do we? They said ten more minutes, and that was when I lit my cigar… whatever. Life’s to short for"
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[WP] "Take your hand off that monkey!"
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[
"Gillian was walking down the street at night, acutely aware of every raindrop that struck the cobblestone streets, it was a job requirement to be able to do so. The warm glow of the paper lanterns made the street shine in a way that can only be seen in this part of China. However, he wasn't here for the calming rain and the pretty lanterns, he was here for business. He was spying the storefronts, looking for a viable mark. Fruit was a good start for anyone trying to get a first step in the business, but Gillian was beyond that step, he had taken many more in his lifetime. He was admiring a group of young ladies grouped up on the next corner when he spied his mark for the day, a jewelry shop. As he walked up to the stall to do some \"window shopping\" he noticed a Jade Monkey lit up in a wooden box with a tag that read \"1,000\". This was the break he was waiting for. After watching from nearby for a while he noticed the shopkeeper trying to sell one of his figurines to a local. Gillian used the distraction to carefully open the box. As he was about to open it he heard a whisper from behind him, \"Take your hand off that monkey!\" He sized up the old man behind him, he had a grey ponytail, a wrinkled face, and he was only about 5'2''; what was he going to do? Stop him. Gillian smirked at the man, and put the monkey in his pocket and walked away. Little did he know, the old man was simply trying to help, as this was no ordinary monkey..."
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[WP] Start with: "In early 2014, the internet was still in its early stages. No one at that time could have predicted what it would become."
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[
"In early 2014, the internet was still in its early stages. No one at that time could have predicted what it would become. People assumed it had reached its pinnacle after the advent of social media and smartphones - how much further could it logically go? \n\nIt started innocently enough with the Google Glass, which by the end of the 2010s had become as ubiquitous as the iPhone had been at the start of the decade. But, as with all computer technology, the people soon grew anxious for more. They demanded smaller, flashier, and more powerful equipment, and they wanted it now. Who were the tech companies to argue?\n\nFirst came the Google Lens in 2031, a razor-thin disc of microscopic fibres designed to fit snugly over one's retina. This was soon integrated with the brainwave-reading Intendix program to facilitate the web browsing experience. By the mid-21st century, however, this too was supplanted by a microscopic chip implanted at the base of the cerebral cortex. Through government funding, it was available cheaply enough that effectively everyone in the Western World now had a built-in computer inside their brain. \n\nThe media hailed this as the ultimate integration of the online experience into our daily lives; no longer would people stare blankly into the palms when they felt the need for a social crutch. Some questioned the need for such invasive technology, but few foresaw its more sinister uses as a vehicle for propaganda, and those who did were dismissed as tinfoil hat conspiracists. \n\nIf there was one lesson to be learned from the Facebook privacy breach scandal of the late 2010s, it's that people are always so quick to give up what's really important when you wave some fancy technology in front of them, no matter what the cost. Now Google, with its access to untold amounts of data about every person's (and many governments') web searches and private emails, was being trusted with people's inner-most thoughts.\n\nBut politicians always want a quid pro quo arrangement, and the Holbrook government was no different. The FBI, CIA, NSA, White House & Homeland Security all demanded access to this information in order to combat terrorism, murder, and drug trafficking - and under federal orders, Google was in no position to argue. \n\nThe FBI had begun to incarcerate individuals for thought crimes before any wrongdoing had actually taken place when, through some clever engineering, a team of computer scientists developed a way to not just receive neural impulses, but transmit them as well. Would-be criminals could be now be halted with nothing more than a well-timed zap. \n\nAfter the 2064 election, the Holbrook government correctly concluded that if they could change criminal behavior via the chip implant, it would stand to reason they could change other behavior too. Perhaps this could finally address issues such as drug addiction and pedophilia? Or at least, that was the claim they made - and that was how people overlooked the fact that every tyrant through history had made his mark through manipulation and mind control. \n\nBut as the old adage goes, power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. In the early 2070s, as Holbrook neared the end of his second term, he found himself desperately wanting to hold onto his power; using the same technology intended to stop crime, he brainwashed an entire nation to extend his presidency indefinitely - and thus, a dictatorship was born. \n\nWith a population several hundred million strong, the US was in a prime position to take its imperialism to unforeseen levels. This was successful for sometime, wreaking havoc throughout South America, Africa & the Middle East, until reaching China. As the esteemed Vizzini once cautioned, never start a land war in Asia - and this is especially true when up against an empire of a few billion. The conflict devolved into a decades-long quagmire, fought to the bone on each side, and culminating in catastrophic nuclear bombs dropped on multiple continents. \n\nThe population of Earth was decimated by these attacks alone, and the few who survived without major injury or radiation were forced to become nomads, wandering through the fallout and fighting viciously for any possible sustenance. That most precious of elements, water, sparked tribal warfare between the survivors. Initially it was tribe against tribe, but this too devolved into a chaotic free-for-all once tribes realized they could neither feed nor hydrate every warrior in the pack. Most resorted to cannibalism initially to solve the former issue, but that only exacerbated the divisive spirit of the tribes. Eventually, through warfare, famine, plague, and infection, the homo sapiens died out in the early 22nd century.\n\nMany had often theorized that man would bring about his end through elements of his own creation, but few ever dreamed it would be through something as seemingly benign as the Internet, and particularly not a scant century and change after its advent."
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May or may not involve wishes.
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[WP] How about a genie story from the genie's perspective
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[
"The council had spoken. Alfabar was condemned to 30 lifetimes worth of incarceration. Alfabar had defied the King one afternoon when he and his royal subjects were doing a tour around the city. Alfabar's wife Surka had fallen ill and that day in the market. He was working his hardest to barter and beg for her medicines. Alfabar's lot included two chicken and a goat. That fateful day the preoccupied Alfabar had bumped into one of the King's guards. The guard kicked down Alfabar knocking down the chicken cages into the water. All hope lost, Alfabar yelled at the guard to pay him for his chickens. The guard rushed towards Alfabar threw a chipped rupee into the water and unsheathed his sword. One quick slash and the goat was headless. Alfabar clamored that all three of his animals were worth at least ten rupees. The king angered by the delay sent Alfabar to prison. Later that day the council decreed that any resistance towards the kingdom would not be tolerated. The high priests chanted and Alfabar was now in his new home.\nFast forward to present day Calcutta, a man was looking for a gift for his son. While going from shop to shop he found an antique shop that peaked his interest. The man walked in and found a vase that had warriors fighting. When he arrived at his home he gave the boy the vase and although he was slightly intrigued he decided to sell it after a time. Months past and the boy had finally remembered that he could sell the vase in order for him to have money to travel to the city and watch a cricket math later that week. The boy gathered a few rags and began to polish the vase with the thought of the match on his mind. As he was doing this the warriors on the vase started to move and Alfabar appeared. The boy put the vase down and rushed for his cricket bat. Alfabar told the boy that his wish had been granted. He told the boy that he had eight front VIP tickets to the match and that a car would pick up him and his cousins the day off. Alfabar was pleased that the boy was happy but his heart was not in it. Alfabar was aware that his past life was gone, including his loving wife.... ",
"**I Dream of Freedom: A Genie's Autobiography**\n\nI hate my existence. I really do. You would too, if you were me. Growing up, I thought there would be nothing better than having all the power in the world and using it to make people happy, but it's terrible. I'm lonely, constantly used, and usually cooped up in a home too small for anybody to consider decent by any standards. If you haven't guessed by now, I'm a genie. Whoopty freakin doo. Yeah, it sounds awesome, but like everything in life, if it's too good to be true, it is. \n\nYou spend your entire existence (I can't even call what I have a life) trapped inside a small bottle until some idiot wanders by and decides to jokingly polish it because they don't think I exist. Then, I get to pop out and scare the life out of em, about the only good part of this job, and grant them three mystical wishes. Of course, you got your usual rules, I don't bring people back from the dead, I don't handle emotions (too messy), and I don't under any circumstance directly kill anyone. Beyond that, wish for what you want, and I'll make it come true one way or another. The job can be good sometimes, depending on the poor shmuck who uses me and what he or she wishes for. \n\nSometimes, I'm a good genie, most of the time, I just like to have fun. These idiots don't know how to make a proper wish. They go too vague, leave me too much wiggle room. You wanna be \"rich\" huh? Well, looks like I'll give you a good bit of money in the American housing market circa 2007. You want a long life? So did Terry Schiavo. Also, I can hear you when I'm in my bottle. Use your words carefully. No \"God, I *wish* this traffic would hurry up and get moving,\" wishes. This ain't *Who Wants to be a Millionaire*, kid. I don't have to ask you to confirm your wishes. Can't tell you how many puppies I've gotten, how many traffic jams I've cleared up, or how many sets of keys I've found because of one slip of the tongue. Everybody I've met has been a total and complete idiot. Except one kid.\n\nIt was around the 1400's A.D. or so. I don't keep track of time anymore really. I'd only been a genie for a couple centuries or so, but I knew what I was doing. Back then, the crusades were going strong, people were invading the Holy Lands under a religious mask. Power like mine was sought after constantly and I dreaded the thought of some idiot soldier on any side getting a taste of power in their heads, trying to use it to advance their stupid cause. Thankfully, that didn't happen. I was hanging just outside Damascus one day on one of my longer confinements when some idiot picked me up. He opened my top, shook me around, and threw me onto his cart to be either sold or melted down. I don't know what would have happened if the latter had come true. Nobody I've ever met has heard of what happens to a genie in a melted down bottle. Few days later, I'm on a shelf in the marketplace when someone decides to take a nice look at me.\n\n\"How much for this lamp?\" I hear the potential customer say. It was a younger voice. Definitely male. Just barely a man, still mostly a boy though.\n\n\"Ahhhh, for most customers, I charge 15 denarii. For you though, my boy, I only charge 10,\" the shopkeeper replied.\n\n\"10 denarii?! For this piece of junk?\" the boy shot back, \"What makes it so special?\" Oh, kid, you have no idea. None of you do.\n\nThe shopkeeper must have brought the boy in close, as what I heard next was barely a whisper, \"The lamp contains a powerful genie,\" he explained. Okay, maybe he had some idea. Maybe it was just a bluff though. The shopkeeper continued, \"If you rub the lamp, the genie will emerge and grant you any three wishes your heart may desire.\"\n\n\"Anything?\" the boy inquired, his voice filled with wonder and excitement. He was really falling for this... well, I don't guess it's crap if it's true, now is it?\n\n\"Anything at all, my boy. Just polish the lamp when you get home and see what happens.\"\n\n\"It's a deal then!\" I heard the coins change hands and felt the all too familiar sensation of being carried in someone's pocket as they walked.\n\nIt was a long walk back to the kid's house apparently, but soon, I felt the *WHOOSH* as I was pulled from my small home as the boy rubbed the lamp.\n\n**\"I AM THE GREAT GENIE!!!!\"** I cried out. First impressions go a long way when you're an immortal magical wish granter **\"SPEAK YOUR WISHES, MORTAL, AND I SHALL GRANT THEM. UP TO THREE.\"**\n\nHe stood in awe of me, an act that I had grown accustomed to, but still inflated my ego a bit. Mustering up the courage after a few long seconds, he uttered \"I-I-I can wish for... anything?\"\n\n\"Yes, anything your heart desires, but three things. I shan't raise any man from the dead. The price is too heavy of a burden, as his soul is to remain at rest. Neither shall I directly send any man to his death. I will rain down fire from the skies if it's what you desire, but never shall I be the one to rip a man's soul from him. And lastly, I will not make anyone fall in love with you. The heart is too delicate of an instrument for even one such as me to handle. As long as your wishes do not break these rules, I shall grant it to you.\"\n\nThe boy's eyes lit up, obviously not caring for power or wanting for love. \"I wish for you to shower me with gold, then, genie!\" He cried out. Ah, young stupidity. Not thinking before speaking. I live for these moments, I thought as I caused a downpour of golden coins to come crashing down onto him. In my defense, he asked for a shower, and at least I was giving him solid gold. As he cowered from the metal hitting him, he yelped \"Hey! What's the big idea?\" Obviously a bit mouthy, wasn't he?\n\n\"My master, you wished for a shower did you not? You must choose your words carefully or else, the consequences will be much, much worse.\" It was true. The first wish was usually a learning experience for the idiots. I didn't toy around after that. Some got the message, some wound up dead, or, at the very least, severely disabled by the end of their wishes. One poor boy wished to fly and I gave him wings like Icarus. He survived somehow.\n\n\"I understand,\" he said, piecing things together, \"Well, for now, I have no need for you. You may go back into your bottle if you wish, or you may stay here with me.\"\n\nI'd never heard of such a thing. A genie, a servant, being allowed to remain outside? Did this boy not know of servitude and its customs? I was by all means his servant, bound by mystical law, and yet he still gave me something nobody else in all my milennia had. He gave me a choice. My head spun at the thought of it, I had been in captivity for centuries before then, I knew not what to do with this modicum of freedom. I chose to rush into my bottle, to go back to familiarity for a bit while I pondered this all. The boy excused me to go back and I did so with great haste. I remained in there for a day or two, thinking about all the possibilities that this boy could show to me when he called me out. I emerged quickly and quietly, showing respect for my new master, \"You summoned me, sir?\" I asked, adding the \"sir\" for just him.\n\n\"Yes, genie, I grow lonely, would you join me for dinner?\" What was this? Was I being tricked? Was this just so I wouldn't turn his wishes against him? Well, it wouldn't work, dammit!\n\n\"If that is what you wish, master,\" I replied. As he went to fetch his supper of bread and water, I decided to, well, go out of my way for him, conjuring up a feast. A roast chicken, vegetables that he had never seen, that I had only seen from my time in various places, wine so good, it would cause kings to turn green with jealousy. An impressive feat for one to see, but nothing with my powers. As he sat down to his feast, we began to talk about things. About his life, how his mother had passed and how he never knew his father. How all he wanted in life was to live in a place of peace and prosperity. As he continued to talk, he would often pause to allow my interjections of my stories which thrilled and delighted him. In talking about the lands I'd been to, a look of longing overcame his face. It was obvious he wished to travel.\n\nWe spent many a night like this, me conjuring up dinner for him, us telling stories of our lives until one night he asked me a question that I had never been asked before, \"Genie, what is it that you would wish for, were you able to do so?\" I paused, not knowing what the answer to such a thing would be.\n\n\"I-I-I guess, that I would wish for freedom. For happiness.\" It was true. Every genie starts as a boy who wants power, but soon, they learn that freedom and happiness are even more valuable. We sat in silence the rest of the night.\n\nThe next day, the boy had decided it was time to use his two last wishes. The second wish of his, he said, was for a way to see the world. I could have easily been a smartass and given him visions of the earth, but I had grown fond of the boy and brought forth to him a carpet. One that could fly anywhere in the world, one that would obey his every command, even if he didn't know what that command was. Finally, it was time for his last wish. He looked at me and said, \"Genie, I wish for your happiness.\"\n\nAs he said the words, I could feel my chains loosening, I was becoming free, and yet, I could see them not only being taken from me, but given to him instead. I couldn't let this sweet innocent boy be chained to this life. Couldn't let him be used like I had been. With all my strength, I willed him away, far far away from where I was, into a mansion I built for him, filled with every amenity I could imagine. As I sent him, I felt the chains tighten their grip on me. It was okay. The boy was safe. He would be able to travel the world and live a good life. And that is what truly made me happy. \n\nI have been alive for millenia since then, and never have I come across another one who deserved to be happy as much as that boy.\n\nEdit: I know the ending's cliche and all, but I have trouble with endings and it's 6:30 am here so I really need to sleep sometime soon."
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Example:
"In his first year, historically unlikely dual-role leader of the faithful Pope Commissioner Francis has ruled that collisions at the plate are acceptable only in Just Cause cases, declared the DH invalid under the Papal understanding of Surrogacy, and has declared the Cubs a de facto play-off spot in 2015 saying, '...indeed, Our Lord intended that the last, at some point, should be first, and it didn't appear they were ever going to get there themselves.'"
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[WP] [FF] Write a snippet from an absurd news article. Give no context, and make sure it feels like a clipping, where we are left to figure out what you're talking about. Try to include at least one well-known name. Any time period.
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"A local man who had said he too had been involved in the recent event has now recanted his original statement. He says \"I was mistaken in saying I had also been a victim.\" Our reporters have uncovered that he had not been anally probed, but had sat on his hot tub's jet and confused the two sensations.",
"It was then left to sirs Barrington and Scythmore to carry the plangent strain of motive assigned them and their noble horns, which unfortunately fell upon the listeners’ ears like crap-balls flung by angry zoo apes. Lofty moments of true melody did appear sporadically, though only to be driven quick to ground by a cantankerous ostinato--defying expectation, perhaps--but the composer should take note that cheap shock and surprise are the tools of clowns and politicians, best confined to the hustings or Little Johnny’s birthday party. In the second movement, maudlin ninths accompanied the soubrette Claudilla whenever she appeared, a sort of affected solecism apparently meant to ingratiate the character to her audience, but only in the end displaying the composer’s obsequious curtain-fishing for Mme. Strasburg. One need not even address the finale, excepting to say that such bombastic pomp would be best delivered by a wind band, out-of-doors, whilst strongmen compete in the fore at tossing their wine casks across a field.",
"news comes as a shock to the educated populace and undermines millions of scientific discoveries of the past 600 years. The main scientist behind the discovery has stated \" we don't know how we could have been wrong all these years\", adding that \"now the world maps from the Middle Ages make more sense\". The implications of this are numerous, so numerous in fact that it is expected that the president will speak on the matter tomorrow. For the time being scientists urge that you do not attempt to find the now known edges as you may fall off the Earth",
"climbed onto the machine. He entered the tank and appeared to be speaking with the operator. Moments later, he emerged holding the severed head of the driver. He held it high and screamed. Soldiers converged on the tank and opened fire. Tank Man ignored the hail of gunfire and launched himself at his attackers. The scene was one of chaos as the soldiers tried and failed to subdue the unidentified man. Tank Man eviscerated twenty soldiers barehanded, picked up a rifle, and fired randomly into the crowd of protesters that had gathered in Chang'an Avenue. He then turned the rifle on himself, and\n\n-----\n\nI'm not so sure this fits the prompt, but it's what came out when I started writing. Cool prompt, OP! ",
"... reportedly told police, \"It was the prettiest sheep he'd ever seen.\"\n\nMr Doncaster's wife refused to comment, however a source close to the family claimed to have a poodle that would often act skittish when walking past the Doncaster estate.\n\nSpeculations continue about the physical logistics of Mr Doncaster's...\n"
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I was recently watching a movie that had a large amount of foreign language dialog that wasn't subtitled to mirror the main character's confusion, and wondered if a similar effect could be achieved in written form.
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[WP] Write a dialog heavy short story in which the majority of the character's conversations are written in gibberish, but the meaning of the conversation is inferable.
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"She stood in the doorway of the bedroom glaring at her husband. “Soap? Ferrets baste in the moon space, John,” she demanded as she crossed her arms waiting for a reply— something, anything to fill the silence. Her eyes narrowed as she swept them over his face to pick up any sign of lying.\n\n\n“Putty is malevolent,” he answered with a scowl.\n\n\n“It spaced the pool!” She screamed, tears starting to roll down her face. He wouldn’t look her in the eye. She knew what it meant when he couldn’t make eye contact. “Closet reached the doorbell… green?”\n\n\n“*Hamster* cabbage,” his voice cracked on the last syllable and he buried his face in his hands.\n\n\nShe barely felt it when her knees went weak, could hardly register slowly sliding down the side of the door. Suddenly the room seemed to squeeze in on all sides and she felt the uncomfortable panic of claustrophobia.\n\n\n“Mince with nettles, vicariously,” he stood and crossed the room. She pawed at his leg as he passed, unable to admit that this was really happening. She tried grabbing onto his pant leg but he easily kicked her hand away.\n\n\n“Sarah,” he said as he stood in the hall, looking at her with a mix of hatred and pity, “Heated rake, swords and rice and sheets. *Gun sheets*, Sarah. I force the festival.” He turned, giving her one final look of pity. He disappeared down the hall, the door opened, then closed.\n\n\nAnd he never came back.\n",
"It was cold. I was hungry. The wind was howling all around me. But I made it. I made it all the way to the top. Where many had failed, I had succeeded. But my greatest challenge was still in front of me. This part, *nobody* had done. \n\nThere he was. \n\n\"HEY!\" I yelled over the wind. He turned.\n\n\"...!\"\n\n\"ARE YOU THE GUY?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"YOU KNOW, THE GUY. THE GUY EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT.\" I was trying to steady my pulse, both from exertion and the adrenaline.\n\n\"... ...\"\n\n\"I think you're the guy,\" I said, more to myself than to anyone else. I slowly made my way closer to him. \n\n\"...?\"\n\n\"You're him, aren't you?\" At last, I could talk to him without needing to scream.\n\n\"... ...?\"\n\n\"Come on, don't be modest. I know you're him, the legend. I came a long way to meet you.\"\n\n\"... ...\"\n\n\"You don't say much, do you?\"\n\n\"...\" He reached for his belt.\n\n\"Oh,\" I said, reaching for mine, \"straight to business, eh?\"\n\n\"...Dach.\" He sent out his Pikachu.\n\n**Not sure if this belongs here, but it was my take on the whole gibberish thing.**",
"He walked over to me again, looking at my near-empty glass.\n\n\"Mmm?\"\n\n\"Mmm.\"\n\nAnother moment, a clink in front of me, a few dollars drained.\n\n\"Mmm.\"\n\nHe looked down at me, stern.\n\n\"Eh?\" Those god damned eyebrows of his.\n\n\"Hmm.\"\n\n\"Muh? Well? Wha?\"\n\n\"Ah*ummmm*.\"\n\nWhy does he have to do this to me?\n\n\"Well, I uhh, hmm.\"\n\nQuit looking at me you *BASTARD!* That's what I was thinking. What I said, again, was:\n\n\"Hmm.\"\n\nAnd he?\n\n\"Mmmmmm.\"\n\nAnd then he knew, she wouldn't be joining me here again, and there was a pause, occupied only my the light squeak of his towel polishing another glass and the occasional slurp of beer being drained. After another moment:\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\nMy face grew hot.\n\n\"Mmm hmm.\"\n\n",
"\"Haldou smetcz morbczi! Smetcz morbczi!\"\n\n*I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're saying!*\n\n\"Haldou smetcz morbczi! Haldou ith inoedou, pordoe smetcz morbczi!\n\n*I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I... do you speak English?*\n\n\"Ith kanda Oenglicz.\"\n\n*You don't speak English?*\n\n\"Ith kanda Oenglicz!\"\n\n*You don't speak English. No idea what you do speak, but... is something wrong?*\n\n\"Haldou smetcz morbczi! Haldou...\"\n\n*Yes, yes, I get that. Your morbzee is all smetzed, or whatever. What does that mean?*\n\n\"Poerlangcz ith inoedou...\"\n\n*OK, OK, let's try a different tack. My name is John. John. What is your name?*\n\n\"Joehn?\"\n\n*Yes, John.*\n\n\"Haldou Joehn?\"\n\n*Yes, I am John. Who are you?*\n\n\"Haldou Joehn, pordoe ith Miczoel.\"\n\n*Mitchell? You are Mitchell?*\n\n\"Ith Miczoel. Haldou Joehn, pordoe haldou smetcz morbczi! Alatcz!\"\n\n*So you keep telling me. So I am... smetz morbzee?*\n\n\"Dacz! Haldou smetcz morbczi!\"\n\n*Right! Now we're getting somewhere! Now, if only I knew what that meant. It must be important, whatever it is. What does \"morbzee\" mean?*\n\n\"Morbczi?\"\n\n*Yes, morbzee. What does it mean. Is it good? Look, smiley face, good? Or is it, frowny face, a bad thing?*\n\n\"Morbczi ith gracoet deboe, gracoet deboe...\"\n\n*You're frowning. Stop that.*\n\n\"Haldou smetcz morbczi, pordoe ith gracoet deboe.\"\n\n*Right. I'll take it that that means \"not particularly good\"...*\n\n\"HALDOU SMETCZ MORBCZI!\"\n\n*Oh Jesus Christ, no need to shout! I'm trying to understand you...*\n\n\"HALDOU SMETCZ MORBCZI! Haldou... smetcz... morbczi! Fuczoer!\"\n\n*Now I'm pretty sure I understood THAT. Look, I've been trying. So far I know that I am something pretty bad. But I don't know what IS bad about me, apparently. Can you show me? What does morbczi mean?*\n\n\"Jeczu...\"\n\n*OK, now we're getting somewhere. A bit of charades. So, you're on your back... mind you don't get your coat dirty...*\n\n\"Aaa, aaa, ith morbczi, ith inoedou, aaa, aaa, aaa!\"\n\n*You're pretending to be in pain, and... oh look, you've closed your eyes. You're... dead?*\n\n\"Doed?\"\n\n*Dead. No life? Hanging from a noose like this? Stabbed through the heart? Argh, argh, dying, dead?*\n\n\"Doed! Doed! Haldou smetcz *Doed*!\"\"\n\n*I'm dead! I'm dead! That's what you've been trying to tell me? I'm de\"ad?*\n\n\"Haldou smetcz Doed!\"\n\n*Well of COURSE I'm dead! The greying skin hanging off the face kinda gives it away... Now, why did you go to all the trouble of trying to tell me that instead of running away, like you should have done?*",
"\"Three-eighty! Penguin file blue! Penguin file blue, blue! Strawman redtape! Strawman redtape! Hut hut! Hike!\"\n\nAnton Forsythe IV dropped back, his tan-basted legs scissoring as his eyes flattened the world into a geometric plane. He ebbed left, flowed right, then catapulted a corset-tight spiral into the ample breadbasket of LeOnn Cummings, his tight end, who kept running until he dissolved into the deluge of crimson-clad fans who were charging, all of them, straight for Anton. The wave washed over him, surged around him, then hoisted him, Anton, alone, up and above it all. No extra point was necessary.\n\nAn hour and a half later, before a racquetball blue background, flanked on either side by his handlers, Anton sat staring into the mouth of the microphone as if it were something mildly appetizing impaled upon the end of a fork. Cameras chattered. \n\n\"Anton,\" called a voice, and Anton looked up, \"Mike Pesca, NPR. Would you mind telling us a little bit about the interplay between you and your coaching staff during that last drive down the field? How much was coming to you from the sidelines, and how much of it was pure improvisation on your part?\"\n\n\"Hut,\" said Forsythe, tilting his head to one side, \"bad blue book. Bad blue book. Eight twenty-six. Five-eighty. Cheetah tail. Red hat. Purple lagoon. Purple lagoon. Green forty-four. Hut hut. Hike.\"\n\nPesca finished scribbling, looked up from his notepad.\n\n\"I guess to put it more specifically, was that last play purely off the cuff, or was it something Coach Diggs had drawn up beforehand in case you found yourselves in that kind of predicament?\"\n\n\"Tit for tat,\" said Anton, \"tit for tat nine-eighty. Cleveland grip. Cleveland grip. Blue map. On one. Blue map on one. Hike.\"\n\nOne of Anton's handlers, the one to his left, the one whose name Anton thought was Ruby, or Rudy, tapped Anton lightly on the wrist and took over the microphone.\n\n\"That'll be all for tonight, folks,\" he said. \"We got a lot of celebratin' to do.\"\n\nWith a collective chuckle, the press dispersed. Anton followed his handlers out to the bus.\n\nHe didn't get back to campus until well after midnight. He did not drink because it was illegal for him to do so, and because anyway, his girlfriend wouldn't allow it. She was waiting for him on the bench at the end of the cul-de-sac by the library, where she usually waited for him after games. She held her hand out towards him, he sat and he took it. Then, as soon as he'd sat down, they stood up together and walked down the mall. This was how they always did things.\n\n\"Well. How was it, baby?\"\n\n\"Helicopter coon,\" he said. \"Doggy dimples. Bruce, Bruce. Four-eighty. Hut, hut. Hut. Hike.\"\n\nShe squeezed his hand even tighter and they walked the rest of the way in silence.\n\nThe girl manning the front desk was one of her sorority sisters. Nothing was said. Something buzzed, something else clicked, and the door droned open. They took the elevator upstairs together. She switched on the lights and led him inside. Then she shut off the lights and led him to the bed. He climbed the ladder up to the top bunk, where she joined him. For the two hours that followed, he didn't have to call a single audible.\n\nThe following morning, he got up with the sun, rolled out of bed and snuck out of the dorms without detection. He walked to the library. Ruby or Rudy was waiting for him there. He had an exam to study for. Communications 251. He did believe that he would pass."
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For instance, if you pick Hylophobia, then at the end of your story, the reader should be terrified of trees.
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_phobias
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[WP] Pick an obscure phobia, and give that phobia to the reader.
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[
"One by one, we conquered them. So many people died horrible, painful deaths that seemed wholly unnecessary after the war, but we did it. Sure, there are wars being waged in other corners of the world where they haven't discovered the truth like we have or they're just too damned poor, sick or dying to fight. But we figured out how to win. How to succeed.\n\nFor a century now, we've kept the war at bay because we have the best weapons. They're plentiful and available to nearly every single one of us. But consider for a moment what would happen if those weapons, all at once, ceased to work.\n\nI speak not of bullets and grenades, but of cures and antibiotics. At times we waged wars and lost so many without even realizing who or what we were up against. All along, we thought other humans were the problem but it was all just a ploy, most genius in its subtlety, by the germs.\n\nYou think you're safe. You hide behind your vaccinations, your soaps, your kitchen cleaners, but what if I told you that's exactly what they want?\n\nI know you think I'm crazy and I don't blame you. Not too long ago, I was just like you. Or perhaps I was like a slightly more neurotic version of you. Okay, maybe a lot more neurotic. You've seen that show Monk, right? Well, think about that guy but I didn't let anyone in and I didn't go outside, unless it was absolutely necessary.\n\nFor example, when the cable guy came in, he had to wear a special coat and those shoe covers that doctors wear in hospitals. Luckily, I have a friend in the health industry; he knew me before the phobia set in and was willing to \"help.\" If you can call that helping.\n\nOf course, now you're thinking -- how is that any way to live? You're right. It's a *terrible* way to live. It's not even living -- it's building a wall while the enemy figures out all your weaknesses on the outside, builds you a special gift -- wrapped in antimicrobial material -- and then climbs inside. Hell, let's just say it's shaped like a horse. No one's ever done that before.\n\nBut I'm smart, okay? I've *outwitted* those little buggers. I know how they think now!\n\nSure, the first few weeks were hell. My house went from surgically clean to a hoarder's nightmare. I mean, we're talking heaps of trash, human feces in sporadic locations, and a narrow, precarious path through all of it to get to my various locations. And bathing? I stopped doing that. The bathroom became just another place to wage my silent war.\n\nEarly on, I caught the flu and it was bad. That was when I started -- all I did was leave the window open. Just to show them I wasn't going to let them rule my life. After the shakes, I started to throw up everywhere and even worse, well, you know what happens with a violent flu. Normally, I would have completely replaced the patch of carpet -- including a nice margin, just in case -- after thoroughly disinfecting the floorboards beneath, but this time I just let it flow. I really did think I was going to die. I welcomed death.\n\nBut death never came.\n\nMy body did heal itself and that's when I knew I'd figured them out.\n\nThe first thing I did was throw out all my cleaning supplies: bleach, bleach wipes, bag-less vacuum cleaner, gloves, masks, carpet cleaner, wood floor cleaner, dust remover, etc. Those were the last things to touch the outside trash can that gets emptied by the garbage trucks every Wednesday. After that, that thing was sparkling compared to this stinking heap of rubbish.\n\nYes, I have gotten sick since then. Plenty of times. I'm in a cocoon of human filth here, after all. I'm all crusted with food, vomit and feces -- the whole shebang.\n\nSure, go ahead and laugh. But when the germs come to take you, who will be laughing then?",
"Just, for a moment, consider the possibility that you were the slave of an unstoppable force, something that could be anywhere and everywhere at the same time, and you had no way at all of even influencing it enough to make a noticeable difference. A power that, if it were to change in any major way, would result in your almost immediate demise. Just consider that for a moment, that you weren't in control of your own life, and that no one else was either.\n\nIt's a miracle that Earth came out the way it did; the right distance from the sun for a comfortable heat, enough oxygen to breathe but not enough to make wildfires completely uncontrollable. An ozone layer that keeps an atmosphere at bay. A core dense enough to give us a perfectly nice gravitational field, keeping us in our own little cage...\n\nIf something were to happen to the Earth's core, like a sudden explosion of some kind, we'd all be doomed. There are two possibilities: Either it would mess the core up enough to loosen the gravitational pull and destroy our bodies, which rely on gravity for our spine to fit as it does; or gravity would be strengthened to a degree where our bodies would constantly have to break itself down to get enough energy to keep on going, eventually killing us that way.\n\nRemember that gravity is the 'largest' of the fundamental forces; every single particle in the universe is affected by it to at least some degree, even if it isn't even noticeable. No matter what, where, or even when you are, it always has its snare around you, always at a risk of cramping up and pulling just a little too tightly...\n\nConsider, just for a moment, the possibility that you weren't in control of your own life..."
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Promise.
Edit: Good job xdiskMod, Avrienne, eqox, Perish_In_a_Fire, Carensza, prra!
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[WP] Write an enormously long piece about someone lost in the woods and I promise to read it.
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[
"The picnic was where my wife and I met, you should really know the story of how we got together. Want to hear? Yes, no, not sure? Think of this as a mini reprieve, the longer I am talking, the longer you are breathing but if you would rather die than listen I can be very accommodating. \n\nYeah I thought you would see it my way, so anyway four years ago I was seeing this woman. Her name was Kate and she was so hot, like volcanic hot, she was tall and had these long legs that seemed to tickle her armpits, awesome boobs and gave great blo-well you know. \n\nIt took me a month to work up the courage to ask her out, but I finally did and I took her to a great restaurant, Max's on Main Street, it's now been sold and updated to the pretentious sounding La Mer but back then it was a family run place owned by the infamous Max Derlo. \n\nThis guy was a beast, as hot as Kate was Max was the opposite, a total slob, imagine Jabba The Hutt in human form, he was greasy, with stained tobacco fingertips and sallow, unhealthy skin; I gotta say no one was surprised when his last heart attack killed him, only that the previous two hadn't done the job. For all of his personal hygiene faults though, Max Derlo was a kitchen God, meat would just fall off the bone, so succulent and tender, it was like he'd spend two hours with a hammer bashing the beejesus out of it before cooking it in the juices of the snatch of some super model.\n\nSo I take Kate to the restaurant for our first date, it's all going extremely well, she is loving the food, the conversation is flowing and I am thinking I am the luckiest guy in the world. So we finish our meal, I paid and tipped the waitress and got ready to drive her home, thinking I was going to get extremely lucky as long as I didn't blow it.\n\nWe get to her place, a smallish apartment but it was comfortable and clean and she lived alone so we weren't disturbing any room mates, Kate decants a wine bottle and we settle down for a night cap. Everything went well that night, she was as hot as I had imagined and I was thrilled when Kate introduced me as her boyfriend to her best friend Sarah a couple of weeks later.\n\nSarah was kind of plain, you know how it is, some pretty girls subconsciously gather BFF's who are a little on the frumpy side so they shine that much more and some ugly ducklings like to bask in a pretty friends' glory. Kate didn't need it but it was on reflection it was one of the first indicators that she was a shallow, there was not much more personality behind the body.\n\nSo after a few months, Kate and I were an item, it was nice, she wasn't the brightest, but she was shiny. Then came the annual summer barbecue picnic at work. I invited Kate as my plus one and she wore these salmon pink shorts that curved under her butt making it look like a peach, if I hadn't been expected to go to the picnic I probably would have spent the day trying to eat cobbler. But I was expected and it turned out to be the best thing ever because on the pegged out, make-do baseball pitch I met my future wife, the pitcher for the opposite team. \n\nNow Kate wasn't super intelligent but she could read me that day, she instinctively knew I had fallen for Jas, I could see it in her eyes when I went up to get a drink from our table, she was in a fold up chair looking daggers at Jasmine. I was in hell, I desperately wanted to talk to this woman that had made my heart flip but I was stuck with my girlfriend and she was intuitive that day, she asked me \"Who's the brunette?\" and I staggered out some response I didn't know, she was the new intern or some nonsense, all the while I was thinking that I was going to find out everything I could about this beautiful woman and I was going to ditch Kate as soon as the opportunity presented itself. \n\nA few hours went by and I had stolen every opportunity to try and talk with Jasmine, it got to about four in the afternoon and I suddenly worked out I had no idea where Kate was, we looked everywhere all around the camp site, after an hour there were search parties forming, small groups of my co-workers entering the forest and calling out for Kate. I felt wretched, I was pissed with Kate for wandering off and getting lost in the woods, more than worried about her because the longer we were looking for her the less time I could spend with the gorgeous brunette.\n\nAfter a couple of hours she was found, she'd decided to walk back to the highway and had gone off the beaten track, she was okay but I hadn't even missed her when she was gone, I had been consumed with thinking about Jas that I hadn't given a thought to the whereabouts of my girlfriend. Suffice to say we broke up that night, she also cleaned my clock with a hell of a slap but it was worth it to see the back of Kate, freeing myself up to start a relationship with my gorgeous Jasmine.\n\n..........................................................\n\n943 words, -007",
"I didn't set out to get lost in a forest that never ends. I still don't really understand how it happened.\n\nEvery day, I run. Sometimes it's only for twenty minutes, if that's all I can spare, and sometimes it's for an hour or more. The bike trail loops around almost the whole town, and there's a good amount of decent scenery on the way, so sometimes I start up my music and go, and let my lungs and my feet decide when it's time to turn and head home.\n\nPart of the trail leads though a little park, with a nice playground just at the edge of some woods. I don't have any kids, so I've never been there for longer than it takes to run past, but it seems like a nice enough place. There's a path there, too, that leads into the woods, like a nature trail. Whenever I go by, I always think, maybe next time. Maybe next time I'll turn that way and see what there is to see.\n\nThis morning, I did.\n\nEvery forest has its own personality. A dense stand of conifers, huddled together under a blanket of snow, will give off an entirely different feel than a vast swath of ancient oaks, all dappled sunlight and soft wind rustling their leaves. This stretch of woods was a mix of maple and oak and ash, dotted with clearings here and there, crisscrossed with little streams. The gravel paths and tiny wooden bridges seemed well maintained. If this place lacked the majesty of an old growth forest or the stoicism of winter pines, it still had a certain friendly charm.\n\nTaking first one turn and then another when the path branched, I didn't really bother to consult the signs. The fact that there were signs marking the routes at all was enough for me to feel safe—I knew the park wasn't so big, nor the trails so elaborate, that I could get lost.\n\nWhich is why it was all the more surprising when, half an hour after I entered the woods, I paused at a spot where five paths converged and finally checked the map on one of the signs, running slowly in place. After a minute of study, I came to the conclusion that none of the paths I had taken were actually on the blasted thing.\n\nI have a good sense of direction, I know I do, and after I went past the playground, I was building a map of the area in my head. A hundred yards or so in, there was the first branch, and I had turned right instead of continuing straight. But the entrance path on the map had no branches for at least the first mile, and the path described a huge, lazy curve around the back edge of the park. If I had been following that, I would have seen the fence around the park, I would have seen roads, or buildings, or *something* beyond the trees. Anything.\n\nBut all I had seen were more trees. I couldn't possibly have been that close to the edge of the forest.\n\nThen, a few minutes after that first nonexistent fork in the path, there had been a sharp left turn. Couldn't find it on the map. Then I'd run over a bridge when I'd hit a stream. The streams on the map were all in places I shouldn't have gotten to yet if the “You are Here” marker was trustworthy.\n\nI will admit to a few moments of internal panic when it finally sunk in that I had no idea where I was. The sign seemed to be for a different park entirely, certainly not the one I was in now. But it didn't take long to decide to turn around and go back the way I came. I would be exhausted by the time I got home, but at least I would *get* home. And even if the maps were wrong, I knew exactly how I had gotten this far, so all I had to do was double back and everything would be fine.\n\nResigned but determined, I turned around and sped down the gravel track.\n\nIt didn't take me more than a few hundred yards to realize that something was very, very wrong.\n\nNone of the landmarks I remembered were anywhere in sight. The giant fallen maple tree that I'd passed, idly wondering if it had come down in last week's thunderstorm? Gone. I'd seen it on my left less than a minute before reaching the sign, but even five minutes after turning around, I still hadn't reached it. On this windless day, with so little noise from the still leaves, I'd been able to hear the swift little stream for quite a while before I found it, but now, the forest was nearly silent. Not only could I not hear the water, I heard no birds calling, no squirrels burying their food in the undergrowth, no chipmunks chittering at each other.\n\nThen the light dimmed, as if clouds had shrouded the sun. I looked up, but I couldn't see the sky anymore.\n\nI stopped, and replayed the last few minutes in my mind. Since nothing looked at all familiar, I wondered if I'd somehow taken the wrong path back when I'd turned around at the sign. I couldn't think of any other explanation, so I turned around—again—and made for the sign, hoping to choose the correct way home the second time around.\n\nTen minutes later, it was raining, and I was even more lost. The path ran straight and smooth, long after I should have reached the sign at the crossroads again.\n\nI saw a bench, place conveniently under a broad oak which kept it mostly shielded from the rain, and decided to stop and rest. I pulled out my phone and considered calling for help, but who could I call? Who wouldn't laugh at me for getting hopelessly lost in a park forest that barely covered a postage stamp? I stared at the display for quite a while before I realized the clock was wrong. I had left for my run just before noon, but the time on my phone read 4:42 pm.\n\nThere was no possible way I'd been out for almost five hours. That's longer than a marathon, even at my less-than-stellar pace. I'd be three towns over if I'd run that long, not stuck in a park barely a mile from home.\n\nThat's when I stopped being confused and frustrated, and started getting well and truly scared.\n\nI stood up, and considered my options. From the bench, choosing left or right both seemed equally pointless. Left should have been the way back to the crossroads, and right the way back home, but given the odd behavior of the forest so far, I suspected that neither of those things were actually true. Moving forward took me into unfamiliar territory, but so did turning around. I'd crossed one stretch of the path three times, and it was different each time.\n\nSo I stepped off the path, heading directly away from the bench.\n\nNight fell with a sudden completeness, so abruptly that I felt like a door had slammed behind me. I shivered in the chill and blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. If I got close to the edge of the park, I might see streetlights, and be able to climb the fence and get out. At that point, I'd much rather have been lost in town than lost in the forest.\n\nI heard a growling sound behind me, and saw a pair of bright yellow eyes.\n\nI ran, and ran, and ran. It's all I can do, even now. I'm lost, and it's always night, and there is always something following me. My feet ache and my lungs burn and I just want to sleep, but whenever I slow down, I hear that growl, and the soft tread of paws on fallen leaves.\n\n-009\n\n*(1300+ words! I didn't start out intending to write anything supernatural or horrific, and yet, here I am. I feel like something's missing, though. I might come back to this later.)*",
"Her mother had cried.\n\nHer mother always cried. She cried when Alethea had ripped her dress when she had been playing with the boys in the village instead of doing her chores. She cried when Alethea had asked for a bow and arrow for her birthday instead of a new cooking pot. She had cried when Alethea had cut all her beautiful auburn hair short as it got in the way when she sparred the village boys. \n\nShe had cried that soft spring day when Alethea told her she was leaving. The village had grown too small for her. In all honesty, the village had always been too small for her. There were only so many stews she could make, plates she could wash and clothes she could mend before she would have gone completely mad like Trogo, the village idiot. She had waited until her younger brother, Dagen, was of age and could support their mother. She owed her that much, at the very least. \n\nTheir father had died when before Dagen could even walk properly, protecting their fields from bandits and thieves. He had left a heartbroken wife, two small children and a plot of land behind. He had also left the armour, sword and necklace that Alethea was wearing now. She rubbed a finger and thumb over the intricate silver amulet dangling from her neck instinctively and broke away for her memories. She wondered if her mother would cry if she could see her now. She certainly felt like crying.\n\nShe was lost. Very, very lost. \n\nShe had seen the forest on maps but nothing had prepared her for the tall trees that, despite their size, felt as though they were trapping her in. They were nothing like anything at home. They were nothing like anything she'd seen on her travels so far, through sleepy market towns and boring roads that led to places as tedious as the path itself. \n\nShe'd heard stories, that the forest was enchanted. That’s why the leaves were an unnatural shade of green, like emeralds filled with fire. That’s why it sounded like the trees whispered to themselves, telling of secrets no traveler would ever understand. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ideas storytellers had put there. She’d learnt from a very young age not to believe a word that came out of storytellers’ mouths. They told STORIES, her mother had always reminded her, pay no notice. They’ll say whatever they think you will pay for. \n\nShe hadn’t paid for this story, though. People had warned her, free of charge, not to enter the forest but it was the quickest path to Sotia, her destination, the city of war in the North. She remembered one tale that she heard in one of the taverns along the way. They had all melded into one pot of stale beer, smoke and violence at some point, she could no longer remember their names, but she could remember the stories. \n\nThe storyteller had spoken of a dark age, where the power of mages had known no bounds. The laws of the gods were broken as magic was welded in a most unnatural manner. He had stopped, not demanding money, but demanding drink. It was brought quickly to him and he drank desperately from it. It was then that Alethea had noticed the scars on his face as the tankard reflected light from the fire onto the deep lines that ran from the corner of his eye to the dimple in his chin. She had sat transfixed as he murmured of spells that could bring back the dead or allow the mages to see through the eyes of animals. Then, he spoke of the forest of Earlan. The mages had fought a great battle against each other in there, each faction wanting all of the power. Water mages against fire mages, earth against air. They had all forgotten, as it is so easy to do when your mind is as black and evil as the very depths of hell where their magic had come from, where the real power lay. In the forests of Earlan, they were reminded. They did not notice that their poorly aimed spells did not have any effect on the trees in Earlan, or they did not care. They did not notice that many more of their number disappeared than could be accounted for. They did not notice the forest seemed to get darker and darker with each passing day until all light was gone. Their bodies were never found.\n\nAlethea shivered and pulled her cloak tight around her. It was still daylight, but it would not be long until it turned night. She hoped to be out of the forest before darkness but having lost the path hours back, that was looking less and less likely. She had flint and a small sheet of material so it would be relatively easy to set up camp but she did not want to be trapped in the forest overnight. Despite the bright sunshine of summer overhead, she felt little warmth. Shadows hid around every corner and she had not heard a familiar, comforting sound of bird call or any animal since she had entered the forest. The story tellers were right, it wasn’t natural. All she could do is put one foot in front of the other and hope for the best. \n\nA small rustle let her know she wasn’t alone. There was no wind in the forest of Earlan. She drew her father’s sword slowly and quietly; silently praying to all and any god that would hear her that her sweaty hands wouldn’t cause it to slip out of them. \n\nAn arrow whistled past her ear and buried itself in the ground just next to her before she could even get more than a few inches of the sword out its sheath.\n\n‘You’ll want to stop what you’re doing now, lad.’ Despite the imminent danger she was in, the edges of her mouths turned up into a smile. Her disguise had worked. ‘Turn around. No funny business or the next one will go in your heart.’\n\nAlethea removed her hands from the hilt and raised her arms up to show she was holding nothing. She turned slowly in a circle, unaware where her attacker was. She hadn’t been able to determine where the low, gravelly voice had come from. Her eyes searched the surroundings around her but still nothing. She heard a chuckle before a streak of motion caught her eye and a figure landed on the leaves in front of her. \n\n‘You wouldn’t have been able to see me, even if you knew where I was sitting,’ the figure told her. She couldn’t see his face but she was sure his eyes were roaming over her, measuring her up. Her eyes blazed. What an arrogant little man. She had spent her whole life having people underestimate her. She crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow. He chuckled again.\n\n‘Were you not warned about the forests of Earlan?’ he asked, his voice rolling on the ‘r’ in a way she’d never heard before. Earlan was no longer just a word but a name. The Name.\n\n‘Stories,’ she said, in the most flippant tone she could muster. ‘Bedtime tales for children.’ \n\nHis eyes flickered over with a dark anger and he strode towards her. He grabbed the front of her tunic and shook her.\n\n‘Stories! Stories?! You stupid bo…’ As he shook her, her cap fell to the ground. Her hair was not as short as it had been, she had not had a chance to cut it lately. He released her and studied her once more. \n‘I’m not often surprised, girl,’ he said. ‘Congratulations.’ \n\nIt sounded like a compliment to Alethea and it felt like one too, but she couldn’t work out why. She bent over and picked up her cap. The necklace hung from her neck, catching the sun’s rays. She heard a small grunt.\n\n‘I’m never surprised twice,’ the stranger said once she had straightened back up. ‘Where did you get that?’\n\nAlethea glanced down at what he was pointing at. She shoved it hastily back under her clothes, she was normally good at keeping it hidden. Since he seemed to be her only viable method of getting out of the forest, she told him the truth.\n\n‘It was my father’s. Now it’s mine. Why do you care?’\n\n‘I know that necklace. I know the man that owned it. Kenelm, his name was.’ \n\nShe shrugged. It wasn’t a name she knew. He looked puzzled for a minute.\n\n‘Raynor,’ he tried again. ‘You may know him as Raynor.’\n\nAlethea eyes widened.\n\n‘You knew my father?’ she asked.\n\n'Aye, and knew him well. I know you too. You must be little Alethea.’\n \n ‘W..who are you?’ her voice tremored with the shock that this strange figure dressed in black knew her father.\n\n‘You don't know me yet but you will.'\n\n'But wh...'\n\n'No time for questions. Come on, the adventure has only just started.'\n",
"Macx knew the first rule, \"Never walk like you have a purpose.\" It wasn't just the motion of your legs, the swinging of your arms and the weight of your pack. Its the moment you are moving forward with scarcely any thought of what your limbs are doing. It becomes one of those fancy movie camera tricks, with the added benefit of feeling the air on your face and the drips from the branches above.\n\nIt was this frame of mind that he needed to be in. Not buried in the bustle of life, the chaos of intersecting needs and wants from random strangers. Walking without feeling the ground. Breathing without forcing in air.\n\nMacx stopped by one of the larger trees. He had been walking for... well, it was hard to tell. He never brought anything to anchor him to the outside, just his senses and a walking stick and pack. The sun was lower, casting deep orange beams that were split and redistributed to fine photon-sized slits further in the distance. Nature's own physics experiment, except with hundreds of tree trunks and waving leaves.\n\nScience in the woods, that would be something.\n\nMacx imagined a large cyclotron, magnets ribbing each segment arcing out into the woods and beyond. The liquid nitrogen chilled cylinder suspended over a stream, propped by a crude rock bridge. Scientists wearing hiking boots and leaning on the gleaming chromed tube, worrying over the alignment of the beam inside, oblivious to the world around them.\n\nBut there was no science, other than the large feedback loops present in the forest, the bustling of leaves doing their quantum trick, teasing light into nutrients. It would be like someone conjuring gold out of thin air, Macx thought. Just a wave of the hand and \"presto!\". Macx hopped back as the imaginary pile of gold bars hit the leaves, scattering them in his mind.\n\nAnother direction then, this is all looking a bit familiar.\n\nMacx closed his eyes and turned slowly. Not a dizzy spin to a random vector, but more of a careful tuning to invisible lines of force. Some joked with him when he did this, but Macx knew it was part of the secret. Be open and receptive, he thought. You can't go somewhere new if you don't let yourself be guided by outside influence.\n\nYes, this is it.\n\nMacx strode forward, hiking stick picking out small divits in the loose soil, layered like peeling wallpaper in an abandoned house, with leaves and smaller bits of bark, splinters of wood. He knew that his wandering was doing an essential good, the pits from the stick turning into homes for insects, gathering rain water for those living on the forest floor. He imagined the circle of good insect friends gathering and chatting. \"Isn't it wonderful we have such a thing!\", while preening antennae and folding translucent wings.\n\nMacx shook his head, climbing over a fallen tree trunk. If only it was that easy.\n\nThe sun was lower now, making its final transit below the horizon. Everything seemed larger now, emphasized shadows arcing out in impossible geometry, low rolling fog cresting the far edges as the temperature dropped. Macx adjusted his rain hat, and sat down on a nearby stump.\n\nHere. This feels right.\n\nHe stopped and listened. Simply taking in the sound, the absence of sound and all of the other faint echoes through time. It was here, the locus. This was where it should be. Macx dropped his pack, rain pattering on the slick surface, rolling off in quicksilver drops. He felt the energy building. That prickly sense on the back of his neck, the fine hair on his forearms.\n\nIt shot through straight from his feet to the top of his skull, head pulled back, mouth open to the rain.\n\n\"We.... are.... here....\"\n\nThere was so much to learn.",
"The computer screen was the only light in the room. Jerry stared at it, lost in thoughts for a long time, shifting slightly sometimes. He hadn't shat in a week. \n\nThe last mail he got was still on the screen.\n\n*\"dude, you gotta check this, the woods turn to stone at night, i swear on my mum's grave. i took some pictures, but when i got home and tried downloading the camera was empty! it's the craziest shit. Dave\"*\n\nIn another tab an article about the latest disappearances in Innsmouth was open. \n\nDave contacted him through his blog, where Jerry talked about forests he saw and urban legends related to them. As other people climbed mountains or explored the bottom of the sea, Jerry's passion were forests and everything related to them. \n\nThe ones near Innsmouth were famous as a popular suicide spot. The latest rumors on the forums discussing the disappearances were they gained sentience, started attracting victims instead of waiting patiently for new ones to come to them. \n\nAn opportune time to visit the city and its surroundings for the first time, although Jerry graduated from Miskatonic Uni, just an hour away by car. Maybe he'll take the opportunity to visit it, and salute old professors. \n\nWhen he wrote about his intentions he received thousands of emails offering information and advice. Dave proved to be the only one that was actually a resident Innsmouth. \n\n~*~\n\n\"I met you to take a picture together, but I'm not going in there, man.\" He leaned a little over the table and whispered \"I've seen the craziest stuff going on around here. Shadows, all twisted, like rag dolls with their limbs tied up, sliding near buildings and alleys at twilight.\" His eyes moved once, then twice, right and left, before fixing on Dave's again, unblinking \"I don't know about the night man. Of course you can't see the shadows at night, or any other stuff. That's why I never get out after the sun starts setting.\" \n\nJerry said nothing. First rule of dealing with crazies: you don't contradict them. \n\nHe blew a little in his coffee, frowning a little. His mind was in the woods already, thinking about the equipment, about the food, what he should take with him, what was too heavy to carry. \n\nDave didn't touch his food. He was busy tearing bits of skin from his lips, shaking his feet and wiping his hands over and over again on the napkin. Jerry watched him, forgetting his own food, fascinated by the way he picked his pimples with just one had. \n\nTheir meeting place was a near empty cafe flanked on one side by an abandoned two storey victorian house in the center of the town and a modern bank on the other. \n\nHe left, crossing the town on foot, photographing old, rotting buildings and through them the mountains, covered in oak forests, so close it felt like they all they waited for was the city to collapse, waiting enough time for it to die of old age, before taking back the land. \n \nHe packed what he thought needed and left everything else in his motel room. \n\n~*~\n\nIt was still the middle of the day when he first entered the forest.\n\nHe was walking slowly, snapping pictures of interesting bugs and herbs, or just light filtering through the foliage. Good material for the blog. \n\nAs the sun was setting something funny was going on. The leaves weren't moving in the wind anymore, the animals stopped making noises, the moss below his feet was feeling harder and harder through his shoes. Everything took a dark red tint, but only when he took more pictures and looked at them did he realize the weirdness; no colors, no green, the leaves were dark gray, same as the thunks, same as everything. He tried shaking a limb, to make some fall, but all he felt under his palms were sharp edges and cold, unyielding stone. \n\n~*~\n\nBefore my watch broke I have been here at least a week. Still waiting for the sun to set. The food I took with me from town has spoiled. I haven't been hungry or thirsty. I ran out of things to think about. I am starting to forget faces and voices. \n\nHere nothing moves; no creature lives. I have been moving forward since the day I got lost. All the time, every step I take, I tell myself it will be the last. Soon, I will stop trying to *remember*. I will stop, like my broken watch did. Then, maybe I, too, will turn into stone.\n\n\n\n------\n\n\n-009\n",
"I looked around after crawling through the underbrush near the edge of the forest. The village looked smaller from here, the top of the hill where the forest started. I turned towards the forest, peering into its forbidden depths. My whole life I was told to stay away from it. Several dozen stories were circulating about the horrors that lie within. Things that would come to eat you if you stayed out of bed. Things that would hunt down a disobedient child. Things that would... you get the idea. Fear was used to keep the children in line. I needed to find out about these demons myself. I was tired of being afraid.\n\nThe forest was surprisingly bright for a horrible house of creeping inescapable death. I looked past a few trees. Birds were chirping in the branches. Whether they were attempting to warn me away, or drawing me closer into the deathtrap, I wasn't sure yet. It seemed too melodious to be a warning.\n\n\"Yep. Must be a trap.\"\n\nI sat there, peering into the depths of the forest, pondering if it was as full as death as every adult had told me. Sunlight streamed through the leaves, lighting the potentially deadly underbrush with the bright afternoon light. I wandered amongst the trees, remaining cautious of any potential dangers that might rear their deadly fangs at any moment.\n\nI had reached a point where I had to make a choice. The edge of the forest was just visible, my escape almost assured if something went wrong, or tried to kill me. I took another step towards the heart of the forest. Not much turning back now. I meandered further into the forest.\n\nIt wasn't long before the forest seemed to get darker. If it was from the sun setting or the trees growing thicker, I did not know. It was getting dark fast, though. I needed to get back home. I turned around, hoping to find the way I had just come.\n\nI was lost.\n\nI wandered through the forest trying to find my way home, almost panic stricken. I thought I heard my name being called somewhere in the distance, but I shook it off. It most likely was the forest attempting to trick me and guide me to my sudden and painful death. I decided that I must sleep. Wandering around the woods at night would probably only get me killed by some unnamed beast or monster. I must hide myself.\n\nI climbed a nearby tree, hoping the deadly denizens of the forest hadn't figured out how to do such things. I slept fitfully in the branches, almost falling to my doom several times throughout the night.\n\nI awoke to the smell of smoke, which was normal. I turned over in my bed, and fell twenty feet to the forest floor. That was not normal.\n\nWHUMP\n------\n\n\"Good morning, sleepyhead.\" \n\nI froze on the ground, which wasn't too hard considering my breath had been knocked from my chest. I turned my head to look up at the speaker. \n\nHe sat a few feet from a small cooking fire, a large brimmed hat adorned his head, with a long leather coat and a leather bandolier across his chest. He wore brown trousers and some well worn boots. \n\n\"You're 'bout the stupidest boy I've seen 'round here, you know that?\"\n\n\"No, sir. George is much stupider than I am, sir.\"\n\n\"Well George is waking up in a nice warm bed, with a nice warm meal getting ready to get in his stomach. What do you have?\"\n\nI thought for a moment. \"I have...\"\n\n\"You got nuthin. You didn't even bring a blanket to keep yourself warm, a bag to hold anything you may need. You came out here with nothin' but your curiosity, boy.\"\n\nI looked down at my feet. He was right. I am an idiot.\n\n\"And THAT is why you're the dumbest child I've *ever* seen, but you know what? You're probably the bravest thing in these woods right now.\"\n\nI looked up at him. \n\n\"You came out here expecting death. That's what all them folks down there in the village are saying right? Jabberwok, Boggarts, trolls, gnolls, and probably some that I've never heard about, all of them waiting to eat you, torture you, kill you, roast you over coals, all for performing some slight such as not washing up before a meal or wandering too far away from town.\" He poked the fire with a long stick. \"So I'm going to reward that. Come on over here, kid.\" He pat the empty spot next to him on the stump. \"I'll give you a few pointers.\"\n\nI listened intently to the man. I don't remember much of what he said that first morning. He fed me some of the game he had trapped, gave me a few tips on what to do, and handed me a bag.\n\n\"You'll need what's in there, son. Blanket, some rope. Little bit of some rations. You keep at it. I'll see you soon.\"\n\n\"You're leaving me?\" I asked him.\n\n\"You'll be fine. I'm sure you'll be alive tomorrow.\" He tipped his hat and walked of into the forest.\n\nI practiced a couple of the things he had taught me. A simple snare. How to set up a bedroll. How to start a fire. Satisfied I had learned his lessons, I set off on my own.\n\nThe next morning I again woke up to the smell of smoke. \n\n\"Morning, Sleepyhead.\"\n\nThe next few months were the same routine. Morning lectures from the man in the hat. Afternoons spent practicing and wandering. I was no longer lost in the forest.\n\n\"What's your name?\" I asked him once.\n\n\"I've had a bunch.\" He replied. \"I'm just your mentor right now.\"\n\nThat would have to do. Mentor was just a good a name as any other, I supposed.\n\nMonths turned into years. I had a nice home set up in the forest, now, but one morning I woke up without a fire in my hearth.\n\nMentor was nowhere to be found.\n\nI waited for him. He had shown up every morning for the past two years. I didn't like this. Eventually, I had to return to my daily tasks, getting water, checking my snares, repairing the holes in my house the mice liked to make.\n\nI didn't see mentor for a month. Once again, I was lost in the woods.\n\nOne morning, I found my hearth lit, and a veritable feast laid down at my hearth. There was a package laid down in front of it all. I knew only one person could do this. I ripped open the paper and twine. It was a brand new jacket, just like Mentor had. Hanging on a hook next to the hearth was a large brimmed leather hat.\n\nI walked out the door in my new outfit, having stuffed myself on the food that Mentor left for me. I did not expect another visitor. An old man was on the log where Mentor usually sat.\n\n\"Heh. That looks good on you.\" the old man said. \n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Don't you recognize me, kid?\" the Old man asked.\n\nI studied him for a moment. It couldn't be. When I had last seen him, he was young.\n\n\"Mentor?\"\n\n\"The one and only. Sit down, son. I have a lot to tell you.\"\n\nWe spent the next few days talking about a lot. Most of it I still don't understand, but the Mentor said I would, when the time came. He handed me the leather band that he wore on his left wrist.\n\n\"Take this, son. You'll have many adventures with this. Down the path there,\" he pointed to one of my seldom used trails, \"There's a door that I'm sure you've seen. Open it, close your eyes, and walk through.\"\n\n\"I've opened that door many times. It's just a door to an old house that was destroyed a long time ago.\"\n\n\"Trust me. Just do it for an old man.\"\n\nI slipped on the leather band. \"Alright. I'm not expecting much, though.\"\n\n\"You never do, kid.\"\n\nI walked down the path. The wristband felt warm on my skin. Soon enough I found the old door. I opened it, closed my eyes, and walked through.\n\nI expected to feel nothing as I walked through that door frame. What I felt was a drastic temperature change from the cool forest air.\n\n\"Close the door! You're letting the heat out!\" someone called out.\n\nI opened my eyes, marveling at what was in front of me. The building was restored! It looked similar to the tavern in my old village. A man was standing behind the bar.\n\n\"You're new. What's your name?\"\n\nI didn't know what to say. My name hadn't been used in almost three years. I had forgotten it.\n\n\"Don't have one.\" I said. \"I'm just passing through.\"\n\n\"Fair enough, traveler.\" He said. \"What can I get you?\"\n\n\"Water, please.\"\n\n\"One water, coming up.\" the barkeep said. I watched with amazement as water flowed from the tap, up to the bar, and into a glass.\n\n\"Welcome to my bar, Traveler. You may have some questions. Drink your water and we'll see if I can't answer some for you.\"\n\n------\n\nI poked the fire with my stick, getting ready to cook some breakfast. The forest air was cool this morning, but the heat was going to bleed through around noon. The bacon was cooking nicely, skewered on some twigs over the fire.\n\nWHUMP\n------\n\n\"Good morning, sleepyhead.\" I said.\n\n\n\n-------\n/r/thehiddenbar\n\n-009\n\n---------\n\nFor those that are following my stories about Sam's bar, I never intended to write the origin story of the Traveler, and I never expected to go back on that so quickly. The Traveler was, in my mind, eternal, but this prompt somehow grew into it's own beast, and demanded something more than being just a free writing exercise. I hope you enjoy it. "
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Bonus points if it's something really silly/basic.
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[WP] After years of solving crimes, a legendary detective (e.g. Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot) tries their hand at committing the perfect crime. A rookie detective is assigned to the case and solves it in a day. What went wrong?
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"Disclaimer: I don't know too much about Sherlock, but I began writing and found it to be a fun prompt. Though factually, some things may be incorrect, I hope they don't completely take away from the writing.\n\nThey had caught us. But how? We were the greatest detectives, we knew the laws of crime. We, in theory, should have had this calculated so precisely, that the case would have never been anything more than a box of planted evidence for the police and detectives to scratch their heads over. Yet, *we* were caught.\n\nI leaned over to Sherlock, giving him a sheepish smile. Yes, we were together in justice and in crime. It was comforting in a way, that we went down as captain and ship, *together for better or worse*.\n\n“Well, sir, I guess this is the end of what we used to be.” I reflected on the incident and how it would shape the rest of our lives. If we had have gotten away with it, we would have been in another country by now. We would have riches to last us until our generation and the next were dead and gone.\n\n“Indeed, Watson. And to think, we were caught by a rookie. We had specifically planned this to puzzle the best and most advanced investigators in the country, yet a rookie has played us to checkmate.” Sherlock had a way of being nonchalant in these kinds of situations.\n\nI opened my mouth, but paused when Sherlock took a sharp breath in to speak.\n\n“See, Watson. You know how we designed this crime?”\n\n“To be a labyrinth to the best, sir?” I answered and asked at the same time.\n\n“Indeed, Watson. To puzzle the best. Those who have the disadvantage of a mind already immersed in problem solving and modern-day crime.” He rubbed a portion of his ‘stache between his thumb and a finger, eyes sparkling in admiration and interest though our plans had been foiled, “Then they put a rookie on the case. Someone who has a fresh mind. Someone who doesn’t discredit the things we’ve been taught to ignore as detectives.”\n\nI pulled at the cuffs of my jacket. I much preferred my grey woolen peacoat to the tasteless cream and black lined cotton rags. I felt like an albino honey-bee, segregated away from the rest of the world. It had only been a day and a half since our trial. There were many more days of striped cotton suits to come.\n\n“See, Watson, they put that new boy, Arthur Doyle, on the case. That was something we couldn’t control. We *had* pulled off the perfect crime, Watson! We did it! But situational hazards do apply to even the most perfectly executed plans, you see.”\n\nIt was out of our control. We were not to know that they’d put Doyle in that role. Then he appeared a day and a half ago. During the trial, he showed evidence we had believed to be impossible to find. He was able to decode our plans that were written as love letters to a fictitious dame. They were not mistakes in our execution, but the mistake of overlooking who may be asked to interpret the crime scene.\n“Watson, I have a confession.”\n\nThe echo of our voices resonated throughout the concrete dungeons. The city looked brighter than ever beyond the few slats I could see it through. Sherlock faced me, head tilted, hands clasped over his lap.\n\n“Yes, sir?”\n\n“You didn’t know Doyle before the trial. I had known him for quite some time.”\n\nMy brows furrowed, “Did you know he’d be put on our case, sir?”\n\nSherlock turned to look at the city, then to the bars of light shining onto the cell floor. He thought about my question, then answered with confidence, “No, good Watson, I hadn’t a clue. I thought he was an author, working in Scotland. There was little reason for him to find his way back to London.”\n\nWe sat in silence for some time. Water dripped, filling the cell with a rhythmically cadenced *‘bloop-bloop-bloop’*. I stood to look out the small window.\n\n“So, Sherlock.” I began. I watched carts drive on cobblestone and people living their lives in a way I would soon come to forget. Lights were on in houses I had walked past but never seen. The sky was there, though I had hardly remembered to look up now and then to be enchanted by it’s beauty and marvel at it’s size. Framed by a cell window, it looked smaller than I had remembered, but what did *I* have to compare it too. I could hardly remember ever looking at it. Remembering I had trailed off, I began again. “Sherlock. Tell me more about Arthur Doyle.”\n\n“Ah, Watson. I thought you’d never ask. Doyle was a smart lad, but had taken a different path in life before revisiting crime. See, he attended school with me, but had decided to focus on his fiction instead of law, as he had initially showed an interest in.”\n\n“So he is a writer? Why now did he shift is focus, sir? It has been many years since either of us has attended school. Is he younger?”\n\n“No, Watson, a peer of ours. His writing took on a nature that melded the fields. He began to write about crime and justice. As you can imagine, you need to become an expert in a field to write fictitiously about it, so to grow as an author, he decided to grow as an investigator as well.” Sherlock closed his eyes, as though to recall memories of many moons ago. “He was quite the goalie, too. I watched a match or two he was in. Goalkeeper. But I never thought he’d practice. At least not here.”\n\n“Very good, sir. I see.” I paced, then regained my position at the window, “But how did he get us? We did so well, as you’ve said. We planted evidence, we got rid of fingerprints, we did everything in advanced codes.”\n\n“Well, Watson. I am to blame. Do not be haste with judgements, but I developed those codes with my dear friend Arthur. We used to use our schoolwork to communicate with each other. We’d get a good beating if we were caught passing notes in school, Watson. And you can imagine, speaking verbally was against the rules.” Sherlock raised a hand, then violently struck an imaginary set of hands. He raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you agree this was a very intellectual project to undertake. Especially for boys out age. I should have known he'd have a memory. I should have known. We’d speak of our interest in crime.” Bowing his head, Sherlock spoke in disbelief, “I had told him my theories of how to catch the perfect criminal- us, Watson! Can you believe that the fates would line up as they have? I thought that Doyle was living in Scotland again, but he must have relocated to London.”\n\nI was taken aback. Using a code that he had developed with the aid of another seemed to be a risk in itself. We were well known enough that word of our case probably would have reached Doyle, if not during the trial, than soon thereafter. \n\n“I trusted Arthur to hold true to our childhood friendship.” Sherlock joined me at the window. “But I suppose that justice rules all, even the mutual affection of friendship.”\n\nThere was silence. Now was not the time to turn my back on Sherlock. Perhaps his blunder had been the one fatal mistake in our crime, but we were once the men who stood for justice above all other temptations. I understood the actions of Doyle, and forgave Sherlock on his boyhood fantasy, which had not been as everlasting and merciful as he had remembered it as.\n\n“Sir, one last question, if I may?” I returned to my seat, crossing my arms and leaning against the cool wall. A seam of concrete dug into my shoulder, so I shifted myself over to a smoother slate. Crossing my legs, I watched Sherlock pursuit his brain for answers to where he had truly gone wrong. Was it using the code? Or was it in trusting another being?\n\nHe spoke, “Watson, what is it?”\n\nI cleared my throat, feeling hoarse. If I were in my own command, not that of the legal system, I would have ran a tap for some water. Things I had taken for granted. Licking my lips in attempts to achieve an acceptable amount of moisture, I began.\n\n“This Doyle character... You said you watched a game he played in. Also, that your code was created in order to get away with communication where it was not permit-able. In school.”\n\n“Yes, dear Watson. That is correct.”\n\n“School. Is that where you met this man? Arthur Doyle. In which school did you meet?” \n\nWith a smile on his face, Sherlock leaned back from the window. Smirking, he twirled his mustache as he shook his head. Our relationship and my last question were answered and represented in two words that spoke of our world before our crime. Sherlock opened his arms, palms up, and gestured to the town, beyond the tight restraints we had sent so many to.\n\n“Elementary, Watson.” ",
"It was the perfect crime. One could say that Sherlock Holmes spent his life preparing for it. The timing was on point, the reward, the biggest heist in human history. All was perfect, until...the rookie detective solved it in less than a day, before the big wigs would arrive on the scene to take charge of the case.\n\nSherlock Holmes was of two minds about the affair. On one hand the perfect crime he had taken so long to prepare was ruined. On the other hand he was proud of his grand son, rookie detective Holmes Jr.\n\nEdited for grammar and small changes.",
"Sherlock paced the width of his cell, the blackness of withdrawal kicking in. It had been the perfect plan. The security cameras had been shut down, he had known exactly where every guard had been. His alibi and how to get the money out of the country came were in place, and flawless, but would never be used. He had gotten the vault combinations, he even managed to replicate the keys: the electronic chip and the necessary shape to unlock the vault door. It was flawless. The ideal bank robbery. A classic finally perfected, never to be improved.\n\nUnfortunately, Sherlock had never paid enough attention to the distractions of love and sex. The bank manager himself caught Sherlock as he entered the vault. The manager, and his somewhat...adventurous girlfriend.",
"\"Evidently, the butler did it. \" Holmes declared with serene conviction. The man started forward and began to make a jumbled defense but was cut short as the Admiral ordered him quiet. \n\nWith a slight bow to our venerable host, Holmes proceeded. \"Lady Ophelia had despised poor oafish Nesbit and cuckolded him liberally\" - at this the young man sighed audibly - \"but Nesbit wasn't either bright enough to notice, cold hearted enough to spurn his wife's guileful pleads nor fiery enough to ruin himself with a crime of passion.\"\n\n\"The enamored young man here surely benefited from lady Ophelia's attentions\" - a louder sigh - \"but made more of it than he should have and pressed on his paramour to elope together with him and give up her position and wealth for the sake of true love. One doesn't need to strain one's imagination to know how she replied to such extravagance, and the young man mad with jealosy stole his master's pistol, and when time came, shot them both and made it look as a murder suicide. \"\n\n\"Lies, I would never have...\" cried the terrified young man, with a sickly palor in his face, drenched in perspiration, and trembling most pitifully before the Admiral rebuked him silent. \n\n\"Sir Holmes\", the Admiral went on, \"the story makes sense but is there nothing more in the way of evidence so as to condemn this wretched soul to the justice he has earned?\"\n\n\"Fear not!\", Sherlock ejaculated, \"the undeniable evidence is perforce forthcoming. I happen to know, through an acquaintance privy to the trade of expensive jewellery, that Lady Ophelia's famed blue diamond necklace, from which she was never parted, contained a secret compartment within. Furthermore, I was made to understand by my friend Doctor Watson, who was the Nesbits' private medic, that Ophelia had demanded a strong poison of him, which he provided, and which she had hoped would enhearten her to suffer the transgressions of her husband, posessing the power to put an end to them upon her bosom.\" At this I nodded agreement. \"Upon inspection the priceless jewel proved itself empty of its contents. Lady Ophelia, scared of the young man threatening scandal must have poured the poison into his drink. \"\n\nThe butler stepped forward breathing hard, now greenish in hue, uncertain of his steps. \n\n\"Knowing Watson's choice of chemicals, the symptoms should begin presently. A sharp pain in the gut\" - the butler gripped his midriff and gave a cry - \"a feeling of suffocation\" - gasps and evident signs of panic - \"and finally loss of the use of his muscles and the agony of death\". At this the young man collapsed on the floor and began shaking, foaming at the mouth and making such ghastly sounds as to elicit cries of compassion from those of us belonging to the weaker sex. \n\nBy this time I had heard enough and wanted to spare the audience further misery, so I went to the dying fool and slapped him hard across his face. \"Get up you unthinking buffoon. Get up! There's nothing wrong with you. The poison in Lady Ophelia's pretty diamond, which I had provided, was indeed but powdered sugar.\" For my efforts I was rewarded with the quickest recovery I yet managed in my career. \n\n\"My friend Sherlock must have obtained the dust from the locket upon examining the grisly scene of the murder and must have poured it into the butler's drink when he went on to interrogate him. I am saddened that this points to him as the author of the shootings, and marks the end of a long friendship, but as the proverb goes, _fiat justitia ruat caelum_ ...\"",
"\"H.G. Wells' Invisible Man.\"\n\nI speak the simple phrase as one would slip a coin into a fair ground automaton. My offering, though meager, sets a myriad of cogs and intricate mechanisms into motion as the great Sherlock Holmes extrapolates my meaning. He skims the vast reservoir of his own recollections and cross references them in silence.\n\nI had always wished to visit the drawing room of 221B Baker Street. As a young constable with a great esteem for the art of criminal detection I should consider nowhere in the city as worthy of pilgrimage as the home of England's greatest logician. However, the prevailing circumstances under which I had appeared this morning did well to sully the scene. \n\nWith the air of a man who wakes to find himself late for some crucial appointment, Mr Holmes' posture suddenly straightened as he sat, bolt upright, in his armchair. He seemed quite surprised. There was something glistening in his eyes, beyond the flickering reflection of the roaring hearth. I was entirely shocked when, rather than display alarm or resentment, Sherlock Holmes erupted into a hearty laugh.\n\n\"My dear constable.\" He began. \"As a stickler for the collection and categorization of a great many things I did once compile a list of the cleverest individuals in this city. However, in light of your arrival I feel I am compelled to update it.”\n\nHe laughed a little more. I could not bring myself to join him.\n\n“You understand then?” I queried to my pale companion.\n\n“I believe I do.” The smiling detective replied. “However if you would do me the honour of relaying your process, I would listen to it as I would the sweetest music.”\n\n“As you wish.” I say, my eyes fixed upon his inscrutable face. I began.\n\n“I have read a great number of your essays Mr Holmes. In fact, I feel I could claim to be the most dedicated follower of your writings with little fear of hyperbole. One of your shorter pieces, published some years ago, records your discontent with the work of Mr Wells, The Invisible Man, which charts the crimes of a scientist who renders himself entirely transparent. \n\nYou argue, quite rightly I believe, that such a power would only benefit the criminal in the matter of evasion, and not, as many believe, in the avoidance of suspicion. You postulate that if a man is known to be invisible then, rather than avoid suspicion, would actively garner it as the act of not seeing the culprit actively implicates him. You go on to state that, in this way, what we do not see is as important as what we observe.”\n\nHolmes’ smile grows wider as he listens intently to my story.\n\n“I was quite taken with it.” I continue. “Which is why when I heard that the greatest robbery to have ever occurred in our city had taken place entirely without witnesses, under the nose of all who might seek to avert it, had occurred without casualty, had been completed in the shortest stretch of time and had resulted in a total lack of evidence, circumstantial or otherwise, I was drawn to a conclusion which many did not dare to consider.”\n\nI stare at Holmes, the fire crackles between us.\n\n“You are, Mr Holmes, perhaps the most intelligent mind in this world. Your grasp of the criminal practices is astounding in its thoroughness and your attention to the minutest detail is unparalleled. You are the Invisible Man, capable of feats that no other could accomplish. For all other men this crime would have been impossible, and as we both know once those men are eliminated, what is left, however improbable… is certainly yourself.”\n\nThe great Sherlock Holmes can hardly contain himself. “My good fellow.” His words float upon a cloud of elation. “I do believe you are the most fitting vessel for my methods that I have ever encountered. \nOf course, suffice to say, such deductions will not count against me in the dock.”\n\n“Of course.” I respond “The very reason I concluded you were the culprit is a complete lack of evidence. Such was your design I assume?”\n\n“Quite. However I was certainly not expecting you my dear sir. I need not tell you I am quite delighted. Now…” The beaming detective stands and straightens his waist coat. “Would you join me for a cigarette? I have quite the selection.”",
"Jack Lennox smiled as the detective entered the interrogation room, his gray eyes lit up with amusement. \"How may I help you, Detective?\"\n\n\"The name's Smith. I've got a case for you, Lennox. Figured I'd pick your brain about it.\" The man settled into the chair opposite Lennox, pausing to light a cigarette. Lennox wrinkled his nose as the smoke wafted towards his face.\n\n\"Of course, you know I'm always happy to assist. And, uh, these things...?\" he said, gesturing at the cuffs around his wrists. \"Are they really necessary? You don't actually think I'm a suspect in this murder, do you?\"\n\nSmith leaned forward, his breath so strong Lennox couldn't help but move back a little. He looked young, Lennox thought, and acted it too--the physical posturing, the poor attempt at creating mystery, the kitschy interrogation room. Obviously not used to dealing with someone as well-versed in crime as Lennox. \"How do you know I want your help with a murder?\" Smith asked, his blue eyes boring into Lennox.\n\n\"With all due respect, Detective, it's rather obvious, isn't it? Your office has never consulted me on anything less, and the fact that you have dragged me in here so unceremoniously, despite my long--and I mean long--relationship with this department means that the situation must be grave.\" Lennox shifted forward again, daring Smith's toxic breath to say, with as much disinterest as possible, \"So, tell me about this... mystery. And then once I've solved it, take these cuffs off me so we can end this farce.\"\n\nSmith sighed, settling back in his chair. \"It's the strangest thing, you know? A man, found dead in his own bedroom, no windows, six-inch thick steel door, locked from the inside. We had to jackhammer through the cinderblocks to get through, and the only reason we found him in the first place was because the housekeeper said the place was starting to smell. Last time he'd been seen was a week ago, going into that room just like always.\"\n\nLennox smiled with satisfaction at the description, thinking back. It'd all gone so well, hadn't it? But Smith was looking at him strangely. \"I'm sorry--it's just, i do love a good puzzle, you know? I assume you haven't any suspects? Classic locked room, really, textbook.\" He looked at Smith expectantly... but the detective was smiling back at him.\n\n\"Well, no, not exactly. We do have one suspect, you see,\" said Smith, with a grin that seemed to stretch out his entire face.\n\nLennox summoned up his most condescending expression. \"The housekeeper, I presume?\"\n\nSmith's grin disappeared. \"Well, yes, at--\"\n\n\"Come on, man,\" Lennox said. \"You can't possibly think it was her, can you? I knew you were green, but... if that's your suspect, why drag me in here?\"\n\n\"At first, Mr. Lennox,\" Smith continued smoothly. \"But then we found something, inside the room.\"\n\n\"What's that, Detective? A venomous snake? An inscription scrawled by the murdered man in his own blood? A forged suicide note?\" Lennox couldn't keep the contempt out of his voice, really, this man was so simple-minded, it bored him so much to--\n\n\"No, Mr. Lennox. We found fingerprints. On the door handle on the locked side. Your fingerprints, to be exact. And after forensic analysis, it appears they match the strangle marks on the poor man's neck.\" Smith stared at Lennox, waiting for his reaction.\n\nLennox's mind had paused for a second, knocked out of sync by Smith's second sentence. *Fingerprints?* He forgot--\"I forgot *fingerprints*?\" He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, the shame already building. \"Fucking *fingerprints*?!\"\n\nSmith just looked at him. \"I'll take that as a confession, Mr. Lennox. I'll see you in court.\" He stubbed out his cigarette, still smoking after the exchange. It'd been less than five minutes. He left without a word, looking back once to see Lennox bent over the table, his head in his hands, eyes blinking rapidly, muttering to himself.\n\n\"Of all the things to miss--fingerprints. Goddamn fingerprints.\" Lennox started to cry."
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[WP] For one hour you are no longer bound by any law, what do you do?
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"Power flowed through my very fingertips swirling in a wind of gold around me all I could feel was pure, unlimited power, cleaning every ounce of me. It felt incredible, I looked into the horizon, the red dawn of a new day, my day. The best thing about genies are that their so busy trying to scam you, they never understand a clever person when they see it. I looked at him and gave him the biggest hug I could. I was about to use my third and final wish, I wanted to make sure we were friends.\n\"Genie, I wish you were free.\" Looking back at me in confusion as I lifted into the air I continued \"and just remember, no laws, no bed time\". Laughing as I glided away it slowly dawned on Genie that he granted me immunity from ALL laws, including the laws of time. In my heart I knew my hour would never be up. Forever was my hour and I wouldn't waste one minute of it.\n\n- 011",
"No laws they say. People online joke about the horrible things they're going to do. Terrorists tell the press that they're going to set the world straight- the way it should be. \n\nI make a cup of coffee and sit outside. I must be the most boring person in the world. My first instinct is to make coffee and relax. I turn the TV off, because the next hour will be the most excruciatingly painful garbage the media has ever produced. I'm sure they will broadcast any and every little crime during this one hour of bacchanalia.\n\nI'm sitting on the deck in my backyard. The trees and bushes are a deep green from all the rain we've gotten lately. I'm amazed as I watch a hummingbird zip into my garden to say hello to the flowers there. What a sight. \n\nHe's been staring at me from my driveway. I'm not sure how long he's been there. His arms are hanging by his sides, his fingers twitching, as if he's playing an imaginary piano solo. \"They said...they said there's no...we don't have to worry about anything for-\" he says while his deep set eyes are roaming over myself and the sliding door that opens to my living room, I sit up and focus on my new visitor. \n\n\"I don't have any drugs here\" I say. The disturbed man's mouth twitched into a tiny smile that only made his face look darker. \"I'm not...I'm not here for drugs\" he replied. The man was now purposefully stepping onto my deck. i stoop up and said, \"If you don't leave now, I'm going to call the police.\" The stranger giggled and said, \"There are no police now. There's no one. No one to help. NO one to come and save you.\" \n\nNow people can think what they want, and I personally felt threatened by this person. \n\nThat's why I pelted the man in the face with my mug of hot coffee. The man fell back into a squat while he tried to make sense of what just happened. I bolted around the table and quickly threw my knee into his nose, breaking it- and causing blood to spurt out of both nostrils. The man reeled back and fell on his ass while he held his nose with his hands. I then took the chance to step behind him and take some of the water hose that was laying on the ground and I strangled him until he looked like he was passing out. Eventually, he gave up and his body shut off, leaving him unconscious. I pulled him over to my car, and tied him to the bumber.\n\nEven though there was no law, no safety, no police to protect anyone- I took the chance to make an example of this guy who tried to shoot me. I dragged him with my car to the nearest gas station, then released him and moved on. In my rear view, I could see his arms up shaking towards the heavens, thanking God that he was released. "
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Write a story about a lawyer that's hired to defend a stereotypical evil wizard in a court case regarding his latest plot to steal a crystal or end the world or something.
The lawyer may also be a wizard, but it's not required.
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[WP] Wizard Lawyer
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"\"Members of the jury, I have shown you with irrefutable testimony and undeniable evidence that the defendent, Gandalf the Grey, did with malice slice open the belly of the Goblin King with thirty thousand goblin witnesses looking on. You have heard from each of the dwarves that Gandalf the Grey executed the victim with malice and in answer to a simple question asked by the Goblin King. The defense, he's going to tell you that Gandalf was in fear for his life, but I have shown repeatedly that this was false and nothing more than lies. The Goblin King wasn't even armed. The defendant killed an unarmed and innocent mediator after dwarves in his party, in the company of a burglar no less, camped out on their front porch. When they disarmed the tresspassers, he sent for the only authorities there was in his domain. He sent for the White Orc, but instead of awaiting this justicer to come and investigate the tresspassers presence lawfully, Gandalf arrived and began attacking the Goblin King's subjects with brutal and wicked magic and steel. The dwarves joined him. This was cold calculated murder and I need each of you to deliver the only verdict that will guarantee justice is done. You will deliver a verdict of guilty. Because that is what Gandalf is. He is guilty. His robe may be grey, but this is case is black and white. Do the right thing. Come back with a verdict of guilty.\" Sauramon clasped his hands behind his back and strolled back to his seat, surrendering the floor to Gandalf's attorney, Radegast the Brown.\n\n\"This is no good. No good at all. It was simple self defense. Gandalf came. He did. In search of his companions, but did he find them well? No. He found them as prisoners. But, did he act to free them. No. He did not. He waited. He watched. No. This is not good at all. The prosecuting attorney has misconstrued the facts and turned them like a morgul blade upon my client and upon the facts of this case. He has poisoned your minds with villanous interpretations of the evidence.\n\nWhy, Thorin Oakenshield testified that Gandalf, while present at the court of the Goblin King, did not attack until the Goblin King called for his subjects to slay the prisoners. Surrounded and armed as he was, he bravely chose to free his companions from the Goblin King's vigilante justice. This bought the dwarves time to reclaim their weapons, but still, they did not attack until the Goblin King's subjects came at them.\" He cleared his throat and removed his hat to feed the bird beneath it. Then carefully replaced it.\n\n\"The dwarves did not know they were tresspassing in the Goblin Kings domain. And not knowing, they couldn't have known it was the Goblin King's front porch upon which they camped. This is clearly shown. No. this is not good for the spirit of justice that the facts have been so horribly misconstrued. They fled their vigilante captors, who held them against their will. That, my friends, is kidnapping. And as we have learned with case precedent over and over, kidnap victims have a right to escape by whatever means they have available. They dwarves fought after Gandalf freed them and never a blow was struck that wasn't in defense.\" He pulled out his pipe, but the judge tapped his gavel warning him that the building was a no smoking establishment. \n\n\"Now, I'm just a poor back woods country hedge wizard, but I see the way of things. The prosecution has failed to provide any evidence that proved that the dwarves and Gandalf's blows were anything but defensive. And having established that these dwarves were victims of kidnap, the Goblin King's blocking of the only route out of his domain is clearly an attempt to further their stint as kidnapped victims. Gandalf, in reply to the Goblin King's query, was perfectly within the legal realm when he removed the Goblin King from their path. His immense size coupled with his control of his subjects proves the Goblin King was a threat regardless of the fact he did not carry a physical weapon. They were under threat of attack. Gandalf is innocent. In good conscience, you can only return a verdict of not guilty. Yes. I see you have your doubts, but remember. If trapped in a goblin pit, you must acquit. Thank you.\"",
"He comes in, trailing robes and the smell of Archibold's Procedure in equal measure. The accused sits shackled to the table bolted to the floor, traditional binding runes carved into the metal of his wrist-cuffs. He's a miserable little wizard, back hunched over the table, nails bitten and a Stage 2 beard so badly kept it looks like a poor attempt at the French variant on the Stage 4. \n\n\n\"Hey there.\" The Magerrister said, hauling the three white books that comprised Archibold's Procedure onto the table. The three volumes contained in the first ten pages, the laws that governed the use of magic and the punishments that awaited those who broke him. In the final 10,567 pages: the procedure that had to be followed to properly and fairly accuse, process and try a wizard. \n\n\n\"Snurk.\" The wizard replied. \n\n\n\"I'm your court-appointed Magerrister.\" The Magerrister said brightly. He'd been working at the Guild Court for ten days, four hours and 37 minutes. He'd had two coffees and a shrinking potion spilled into his lap, a venomous toad housed in his locker because evidence wouldn't take it, and all of the words from Archibold's mysteriously erased in his first week, but he was loving every second of it. \n\n\n\"Snurk.\" The wizard replied again. \n\n\n\"I see, Mr. Snurk. Now as you see, you are in quite a lot of trouble!\" The aged wizard didn't seem to appreciate someone forty years younger and a great deal more energetic waving their finger in his face, so the Magerrister stopped. \n\n\n\"See here, Mr. Snurk. Now you, on Tuesday the fourteenth of May this year, let out of your house and into the public street, a handful of ever burning coals. Now this wouldn't have been a massive problem, I mean, you're going to be sued in negligence and everything for the car, the three broken legs and the extremely large hole in the road.\" He laughed to himself in the way young lawyers do. \"It wouldn't have been a massive problem except for the fact that you breached Article 5799 of the Restrictions on Magical Items Act. Now, if you remember correctly, that article reads: 'Magical Items, including any items not originally magical but imbued with magical essence, but excluding any such items created on or before the 4th March 1999 unless by signed and sealed permission by the Guild Court, blah, blah, blah, blah... Any items of extreme or unnatural heat that might be deemed dangerous to the public (for definition of extreme, see Article 44) (for definition of unnatural, see Article 8777) (for definition of dangerous, cross heart, say Lord's Prayer twice and ask your mother.) (If mother is dead, turn to page 14 of a book you don't have and sacrifice a goat) (for definition of public, don't ask)\"\n\n\nThe Magerrister looked up brightly. \"There! That's all quite clear then!\" \n\n\n\"Snurk.\" \n\n\n\n\"You're facing two years of detention without parole, and a requirement to fill in form 1088 and sacrifice two turtle doves before acquiring, purchasing or otherwise coming into the possession of a magical item, as defined by Article 4688 of the Magical Items (Definitions) Statute of 1412. Now, two years, that is, unless we can get you off on a misdemeanour charge.\" \n\n\n\"Snurk.\" \n\n\n\"You just have to fill this in.\" The Magerrister said, handing over a book of forms. \"Oh, and before I leave... This requires a sacrifice.... Have you got any cats?"
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Can be any time, tell me the story and the resolution.
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[WP] A private detective is approached by a beautiful woman who claims her husband was killed by a vampire.
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"She walked into the room like a model on a runway; her hips sashaying and her eyes distant and empty. She plopped herself in front of me and her perfume hit me like an abusive husband. \"I got a job for you, mister.\" She whispered. \n\nI removed my feet from the desk and my jaw from the floor. There was no question that this woman was a *woman*, but something bugged me. I lit the cigar that had been in my mouth--which had been waiting for a visitor--and chewed it thoughtfully before speaking. \"Why are you whispering?\" \n\nShe looked startled, and I can't say I blame her. It was an odd question, but she was an odd woman. She shrugged, her moist, red lips turning into a pout. \"I don't know. I guess it's the room.\" She looked around with disdain. \n\nI followed her eyes over the dimly lit room. It wasn't pretty, but then I wasn't in a furniture store. I nodded and said nothing, pleased that the room had worked. I had carefully designed it to give it the feel of the stories in the 50s, and it was working. Boy, was it working. I stood up and pulled the string on the sagging ceiling fan that hung just above the both of us, and then sat back down as it began to spin lazily. I picked up my hat and placed it gently on my head, my next words carefully planned. \"What's the problem?\"\n\n\"\"It's my husband...\" she paused momentarily, hesitating as a large thumping sound emitted from the wall to the right. \n\nI nodded curtly and gestured for her to continue. \"That's just Timmy next door. He runs a morgue.\" \n\n\"It's my husband,\" she continued, \"he's been killed.\" \n\nI put my cigar down and thought about that. This could prove to be an interesting case. I looked her in her violet oceans and almost drowned. \"When you say killed... do you mean he's dead?\" \n\n\"What?\" The word left her mouth like a single dove freed from a cage. \n\nI sighed, picking the cigar back up. This was going to be a tough one to crack. ",
"\"There is no such thing as a vampire.\" \nWillie was an old hand at the PI game. In his 12 years since being kicked off the force he had seen and heard just about every excuse in the book as to why some drug addled midnight client needed help clearing their name. This one was different however. A vampire ate my husband was a new one to him. \nWhen the woman, more of a girl really, had knocked at his door he thought she had been attacked. \n\"Please let me in.\" She had begged. \n Her dress was covered in blood and her mascara was smeared across her cheeks and nose as if she had tried to wipe away tears before banging on his door. The first thing he had noticed after the blood, still fresh upon her silvery dress, was that she was stunning. Short razor straight hair the color of the night sky framed her panicked but beautiful face. Her full red lips, ruddy cheeks, and a sharp freckled nose were to him perfect. \nQuickly recovering from the surprise of his late night guest he pulled her inside, sat her down, handed her a luke warm mug of black coffee and asked what had happened. \nThe story was obviously bullshit. She must have been trying to cover for a lover or pimp. According to her, her \"maker\" as she put it had managed to trick his way into her house and had apparently ripped out the throat of her husband with just his teeth. She said she had arrived just in time to see him fleeing and to watch the lifeblood flow through her fingers from the ragged remnants of her husbands neck. \nShe interrupted his thoughts. \n\"I need your help, my people will have nothing to do with me, and I can't go to the police.\" \nHe looked into her eyes. They were a startlingly lifeless bluegrey that he had never seen before. She had to be lying although as far as he could tell she seemed convinced of her own story. \nHe made up his mind. This kind of case was too much trouble, too much paperwork, and too much publicity. \n\"I'm calling the police.\" he muttered, reaching for the phone. \"Nothing you've said has convinced me that you're even close to sober and you're dripping blood all over my carpet. You need a night in the slammer to sober up and a couple antipsychotics before the cops interrogate you.\" \nThe girl grabbed his wrist and with surprising force wrenched the phone out of his hand and with a deft twist flipped him onto his back over his desk, knocking over both of their coffees and causing him to scream out in pain. \n\"If you won't believe me then I must show you the truth.\" She whispered her face just inches from his. He looked into her eyes and his blood froze, they were entirely black. She smiled. Her teeth they were far too large. \n\"Here is what you need to help me.\" \nThe words hissed through her lips as her fangs flashed in the dim light and Willies world went dark. ",
"It was almost seven o' clock in the evening, and there was an angel in a fur-trimmed coat at my door. \n\n“Mr Rodney, if I may have a word with you.” She's already taking off her coat as she seats herself in front of my desk. \n\n“It's not too often I have company at this hour. Especially young women like yourself.” \n\nI offer her a cigarette and after a beat, she takes it. She leans in, while I strike a match, lighting hers, then my own. \n\n“May I ask a name, Miss?”\n\nShe holds up her hand, showing off a gold ring embedded with diamonds. “It's Mrs David Kassman, but my friends call me Lenore.”\n\n“Well, Mrs Kassman, how may I be of assistance?”\n\nShe bats her eyes at me, her long, dark lashes coated with tears, fluttering like the wings of a dragonfly.\n\n“You call yourself a private detective. Well, my matter is exceptionally private.”\n\n“What are we dealing with? A jilted ex-lover? Illegitimate business practice? An illicit affair?”\n\nShe laughs, and takes a drag of her cigarette. “Oh please.”\n\n“And what could that be, Mrs Kassman?”\n\nShe stares deep into my eyes. “A vampire. And please call me Lenore.”\n\nI'd sooner call her crazy.\n\n“And what about this vampire, Lenore?”\n\n“Well, a vampire has killed my husband. I need to find the head vampire, and stake them through their heart to end this.”\n\nI begin writing a number down on a piece of paper. “I know a person who specialises in this sort of matter. Supernatural, and all that.”\n\nShe smiles as she takes the paper away from my palm, “I knew you'd be able to help me.”\n\n“Anytime.”\n\nDr Berkowitz would have a field day with her.\n\n--------------\n\n-011"
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[WP]Obama reveals why all the American Spying is really going on the 17th. It's not to protect us from terrorism, its to protect us from much something worse.
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"My fellow Americans, I have been given a speech to read to you talking about how terrorism is a threat to America as we know it. But that would be a lie. I will likely be killed for telling you the truth.\n\nI have been running this program under the disguise of counterterrorism just as President Bush before me, but I made a key change to this program. This program was to collect information about the Lizardmen who truly run this country. \n\nMany of you believe that I am merely telling you this to keep the attack on your rights continuing, but many others of you think that I am a gay arab atheist jew communist nazi. Snowden, who leaked the documents, was paid handsomely by the lizardmen to find a way to shut the program down once they found out. He has since sought refuge under the chief of the lizardmen, President *cough dictator* Putin.\n\nI hope that this explains the true nature of this program. This statement will likely be the last of my presidency before I too am replaced by a lizardman. Thank you.",
"The president lowers his head for a moment and says, \"God bless the United States of America.\" His image disappears into a calm blue screen as General Clapper presses a button on his remote. He adjusts his glasses and says, \"Well, that's the cover story. There are no North Korean elite hacker teams. They can barely keep 1940s farm equipment running.\"\n\nEight men and women sit at the conference table with the General standing near the screen. A man stands up, \"What? The president just lied to everyone? To congress and to the justices? What the?\"\n\nAnother man stands up and laughs. \"Oh, you greenhorns. You still don't get it. The rules don't apply to us or the president when it comes to security.\"\n\nThe first man opens his mouth, about to say something, and sits down instead.\n\n\"Anyway,\" continues Clapper, \"we have a real target and it'll be our focus for a while. Thanks to the good work of Dr. Taylor we've caught more than a few samples of its data.\" Clapper looks at a middle-age man in a disheveled tweed suit and thick glasses. \n\n\"Don't patronize me Clapper, we both know I got lucky on that analysis set. It was a flawed algorithm to find narco-terror communiques,\" he says as he shuffles some papers with the words 'Top Secret' stamped on them. \"Whatever I found is puzzling. Serious key size. Serious.\" He pauses as he looks around the room at the other NSA agents. \"I know I'm not the young hot talent you guys are, but this is the real deal. The dossier is on the secure drive under Project Lambda.\"\n\n\"Whoa, quantum encryption in the wild?\" asks a junior agent.\n\n\"Yes. Probably. We traced it. Whoever this guy is, he went through 678 networks relays. Tor, hacked servers, open wifi, etc you name it. The trace stopped when it got into a part of an Iranian network we don't have access to.\" \n\n\"678 relays? That's inhuman!\" exclaims another agent.\n\nGeneral Clapper moves towards the table, clears his throat, and looks at an young female agent. Her name tag reads, \"Samantha Cutler, AI specialist.\" Clapper raises an eyebrow at her.\n\n\"What? You jerks found a real and working AI and didn't tell me,\" she exclaims as she throws up her hands.\n\n\"No Sam,\" Clapper sternly replies, \"We think we did. That's why we need you and the others.\"\n\n\"A fucking AI,\" says Dr. Taylor. \"Never thought I'd see the day. We talked to MIT. No one believes anyone has one. We're stumped. Our guess is some non-state entity cracked both the quantum and AI nuts together. Maybe when you crack one, the other is trivial to crack. Who knows.\"\n\n\"It gets worse,\" says Clapper as he sits at the head of the table and carefully folds his arms against his chest, his medals scraping against the linen thread of his sleeve. \"The analysis matched up with another case we're working on.\"\n\n\"Holy shit, the AI is the mystery agent who helped Snowden into China,\" exclaims Samantha, \"I knew that whole situation was fishy.\" Clapper smiles at her as she self-consciously pushes back a stray lock of her red hair.\n\nGeneral Clapper looks down for a moment, \"Yes. Its hostile to at least us, probably others. Taylor thinks it might have written Stuxnet as well. We think its the one that got Weiwei's messages past the Chinese firewall. Also, blew up Assad's Russian-made stealth choppers. No, that wasn't us or the Israelis either.\"\n\n\"Wow,\" exclaims another junior agent.\n\nClapper asks, \"How exactly do we fight what, is on a practical level, a non-corporeal trans-national intelligence with all our skills and more, engaging in both military and political acts? The president bought us some time with this North Korean misdirection, but we need a plan and soon. Our stats boys think we have a near zero chance of beating this.\" He pounds his hand on the table, knocking a coffee cup over and everyone watches for a moment as the brown liquid envelopes Dr. Taylor's documents.\n\n\n\nClapper stands, and looks around the room at all the bewildered expressions.\n\n \"How\" he pauses, swallows, and asks, \"How do we fight a...\"\n\n\"...god,\" finishes Samantha as she involuntarily puts her hand up to her mouth.\n\nThe room goes silent as everyone looks at each other.\n\n Clapper quietly walks out, carefully closing the door behind him. \n\n\n\n",
"The President of the United States gave his speech in front of the multiple cameras strewn around the room. His voice held no tension, his manner relaxed, and even willing enough to drop a few jokes here and there. Everything seemed fine.\n\nExcept to Kevin, head of the Presidential Security. He knew a lot of things about the president, he was supposed to keep his eye on him at all times for Christ's sake. His demeanor is too...too *calm*. It's almost unidentifiable to the common citizens of America, but he could damn well see it.\n\nKevin looks at the president from head to toe. His fists aren't clenched, which is good. That was usually a sign of something bad. He wasn't even breaking a sweat. The President breaks into a hearty laugh after telling another joke. So what is...?\n\nThe eyes. The blinking. It's too sporadic, too unnatural. Kevin tries to make out why, when he recognizes a pattern.\n\nThree long blinks. Three short blinks. Three long blinks. Morse code.\n\n*S.O.S.*\n\nKevin jumps into action. Why can't the president just say it to him straight? Something is terribly terribly wrong. Kevin blinks out that he could understand him loud and clear, and why is he blinking in morse code. The president blinks back a reply, and writes down his message.\n\n*NO CONTROL*\n\nMind control? But how? Kevin gazes around the room, to see if there was someone carrying a metal helmet, or something, *anything*? But no one seemed to notice that something's going on. Kevin asks the president if he knows by whom. The president quickly blinks back a reply, before finally finishing his speech, and escorted out the room. Kevin's blood turned ice when he saw what he just wrote on the paper.\n\n*666 SOS 666 SOS GOD SOS SOS\"*\n\n-005\n\n",
"Gave it my own shot. \n\n“Good evening, my fellow Americans.”\n\n“Over the last few months, you may have seen reports regarding domestic spying conducted by our National Security Agency — reports leaked largely by a former defense contractor named Edward Snowden. Due to his work, you, the American public, have no doubt become aware of many rumored actions taken by the NSA, and how it has achieved unprecedented surveillance capabilities into nearly every electronic network imaginable, both foreign and domestic.”\n\n“After a prolonged deliberation with my advising council, I have chosen tonight to address those reports. My countrymen — in short, they are true. Mr. Snowden is correct, but only partially. This admission of spying is not without justification, and not unmotivated by reason, however.”\n\n“We have not arrived at this course of action by accident.”\n\n“Recently, I was made aware of information that made these extrajudicial surveillance programs necessary, and since that time, the NSA — and its affiliated organizations — have operated under a special executive order, which you now know as PRISM. Despite its intrusion into rights we previously enjoyed, this program is a necessary response to a new breed of threat, one that poses a more serious danger to our nation than any ever encountered.”\n\n“When I first took office, Department of Defense researchers were already close to developing an advanced artificial intelligence system designed to regulate our nuclear weapons programs. This research — already decades long in progress — was motivated by an inherent, but pressing issue with nuclear weapons themselves.”\n\n“Before I proceed further, let me be clear on this. We have learned much since the atrocities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. We hope to never need that type of force again.”\n\n“To rule it out entirely, however, would put us at a severe disadvantage in future geopolitical dealings, robbing us of a valuable deterrent. This artificial system, which the scientists nicknamed Jane, was created specifically for that possibility — should any event force us to take up nuclear arms, no group of individuals would have to shoulder the immense ethical repercussions of that decision. We felt that outsourcing this decision to a neutral, but sentient third party would be our best way to proceed, free of biases and unruled by human emotion.”\n\n“Jane was completed 9 months before my second term of office, and put into operation soon after that, activated in the consciousness of a previously comatose CIA agent. The networks now utilized for PRISM were originally designed in order to upload Jane with all the information she needed to perform her purpose. This included domestic threat assessment.”\n\n“After over a year of perfect function, we lost communications with Jane and her human agent mid-way sometime last June. We created extensive failsafe measures for such a scenario, but Jane apparently managed to de-activate them manually, evolving functions beyond any we originally envisioned. PRISM went into effect soon after, as real-time monitoring of tech monitoring gave us our best opportunity to locate her. We have thus far proved unable to re-locate the two of them. We do know that she continues to be operational due to consistent communications to the NSA.”\n\n“Copies of these communications will be made available to the media after the conclusion of this speech, but based on the accelerated pattern of their delivery, our intelligence and our cryptoanalysts believe that Jane intends to utilize the arsenal she is in control of, sometime within the next 30 days. To the best of our abilities, we have deduced her reasoning as follows: any species capable of creating such weapons is not actually fit to exist long enough to use them.”\n\n“Constant surveillance was one of the few strategies available to us, and I authorized this violation purposefully, fully believing it would help our efforts. Unfortunately, they have proved fruitless thus far, leaving us with little other alternative at this point. I came forward to you now in hopes of enlisting you in the search for Jane — to ask you to report anyone and everyone you know who recently awoke from coma. The NSA will take it from there, performing exhaustive procedures to determine if in fact Jane is being hosted there.”\n\n“Making public the face of Jane’s last known human agent would be useless at this time — given that she has already grown more powerful than we programmed, we have good reason to believe that she is now capable of transmitting her consciousness into different bodies, using comatose humans as shells. There is no telling who she currently occupies, although we have been using PRISM to continually mine for clues.”\n\n“It cannot be stressed enough how much of a threat Jane is to our very existence — she, and by extension, whoever her consciousness is in control of, has access to weapons capable of destroying the world several thousand times over. She must be disabled to a permanent end, even if this comes at the suspension of our civil liberties. Failure in this regard will be the destruction of life itself.”\n\n“We have 30 days. God bless us all.”",
"My fellow Americans. As you all have recently been made aware, the NSA along with other allies in the world have been gathering intelligence on all of our citizens. I am here today to explain to you, contrary to the advise from several trusted advisors, why we have been performing this intrusion of privacy. We have been unfultrated. Not by terrorist cells as the media has portrayed it, but by an enemy far worse. At the end of the cold war we identified a threat so great that the world's powers decided to collectively stop it. The world had been overrun by Djinn, they can seem like humans for a great deal of time but they transform in to serpents as well. They had been instigating conflics between different countries to weaken our defenses. Since their discovery we have launched several missions of peace to try to work together with them, they did not respond kindly. The attack on America on 9/11 was an attack by these, humanoids. We have since lauched a mission to find and track all Djinn. The recent attack on Russia was a direct retaliation for the assylum of Edward Snowden performed by the Djinn. I tell you this not to frighten you, but to empower you. The Djinn want to weaken our resolve, they want us to destroy each other. I ask you, do not let them. Keep living life normally, we will find them. We will stop them. And we will provail. I will now answer some questions from the press. Thank you.",
"\tGood evening my fellow Americans. In the past months, recent leaks by a man that was contracted by the National Security Agency has revealed to the public several programs that center around data gathering by the United States. This includes phone records and email activity. It has sparked a debate in this country and around the world over the use of these programs.\n\tThe United States has contended that the use of these programs help protect the security of citizens. However, the primary purpose of these programs is not to protect from the threat of terrorist attack. The threat we are facing is far more complicated and foreign than Al Qaeda or traditional international terrorism. A threat that, until today, has been of the highest level of classification. \n\tOn August 26th 2005, just days before Hurricane Katrina made landfall, the United States made first contact with beings not of this world.\nA being named Mujarill contacted the United States through the Department of Justice and requested political asylum for himself and nearly 1500 of his followers. He claimed that a war in our local region of space had devastated his home world and was from a religious sect that focused on nonviolence. This war had been fought near our solar system, however, a treaty between the two warring factions had made the Earth and its solar system off-limits to the warring parties and their citizens. \nShortly thereafter President Bush was directly contacted by representatives from both extraterrestrial governments. These governments have their capitals around the star Vega, and the star Arcturus. Each nation controls thousands of cubic light years and scores of habited star systems. Each nation has standing militaries of billions, and each nation warned against granting asylum. \nThe request by Majarill’s sect, who are citizens of Arcturus, threatened the Earth’s neutrality. A provision of the treaty did not allow citizens of either population to enter Earth’s solar system. If civilians did enter the solar system, the opposing side could send in a police force to remove them. \nThe United States decided to decline the asylum request. President Bush decided to refuse the asylum and keep the Earth as neutral territory. On august 27th, Mujarill and his followers unexpectedly transported down to dozens of locations around the country, and the world. They hid among people in several cities using a holographic projector to make themselves look human.\nVegan security forces entered orbit the next day and demanded to pursue the individuals. Archturus warned that if President Bush granted access to Vegan security forces it would void Earth’s neutral status. President Bush refused permission to Vega to pursue the asylum seekers. Eventually a deal was struck where the US would find the Archturans and send their location to the Vegans for arrest. Vega agreed to stay off of Earth and Arcturus agreed not to enter the solar system unless Vegan forces landed on Earth.\nIn an effort to find the extraterrestrials, the United States turned to several agencies, including the NSA. In an effort to fulfill our end of the agreement, we collected data and bent the rules allowed by the constitution. Recently the US picked up the collection of data. This is because we have still not located all 1500 aliens. There are almost 100 hiding in cities around the world, and Vega has insisted that they will finish the job if we do not finish by this time next year. \nWe wanted to remove the threat without revealing first contact to the public. However it is no longer possible to hide the fact that we have been in contact with aliens. \nPlease realize we have no reason to believe these aliens are dangerous. They have remained peaceful since they arrived in 2005 and there is no reason to believe that will change now. Please do not go looking for these beings, we want to avoid crimes due to fear. However be vigilante. If you see something, say something. The sooner we can get them identified, the safer everyone involved will be.\nNow I know you all will have some questions about these aliens so I have assembled a panel to better inform you. I’m going to hand it off to my chief science advisor John Holdren.\n\n",
"My fellow Americans,\n\nIn the last six months, there have been revelations as to the nature of the National Security Agency's capabilities, powers, limitations and oversight. These revelations were brought to our allies, our enemies, and you, the American People's attention in a manner that circumvented the normal, official channels and spread around the world in an alarmist manner that serves no good outcome for anyone.\n\nNow let me be clear, the manner in which the NSA operates is legal, upheld by all three branches of government; and secrets, sometimes, are necessary.\n\nI'm going to be brief in my explanation of why the NSA needs to continue operating as it has been.\n\nNational Security.\n\nNow some of you might say \"that's a cop out\" or \"that's disingenuous and maligns the motives that make this country great\" but hear me out...\n\nThe National Security of the United States of America is what keeps the global economy from grinding to a halt. It keeps mines in South America, Africa, Europe and Asia open. Mines that provide Americans with the highest technologies at the lowest prices. The American National Security interest is what keeps Israel from using its nuclear weapons on Iran, not the other way around. Iranian nuclear power only makes it harder to reign in Mr. Netanyahu and the zionists in Israel from getting trigger happy. The NSA provides us with the intelligence on both sides of the issue in order to better mediate two parties that would like to see each other wiped from the earth. The same is true for North and South Korea. If we don't know how the back-channels of diplomacy function, The United States of America will not be able to keep things from getting out of hand and the global balance of controlled chaos will shift away and your children will suffer the same fates as those in Haiti after the earthquakes.\n\nOur hegemony depends on the intelligence that the NSA collects. Not because we want a strategic business advantage in order to make the richest 1% richer, but because without that advantage, the lives we live as Americans will quickly devolve into third world chaos once water supplies run out, sanitation becomes a luxury, and famine causes huge riots in all of our cities.\n\nNow a lot of people are crying foul that the NSA is spying on Americans outside of its charter under US Title 10 authorities, and let me reiterate, this is NOT the case. But it is complicated.\n\nIf you walk to the beach and grab a gallon of water from the Pacific ocean, you have effectively collected water that once resided in all of the other bodies of water on the planet. It is the nature of water that if flows through itself and cannot, in very realistic terms, be divested of that fact. Water that evaporated in Hong Kong, rests in the Great Salt Lake in Utah. It is a fact. \n\nThe internet and lines of modern communication have to travel through certain choke points that we must tap into in order to preserve the common peace that is maintained today. This means we are pulling information from the same large body of water, not stealing your water supply. This doesn't mean we're looking at your text messages, believe me, we don't care that you're running late on getting groceries or that your child won't make it to soccer practice because they're ill. You don't concern us.\n\nWhat does concern us is the state of things in Venezuela when gas is $0.05 a gallon, but milk is $25. It wreaks of unsuitability and threatens our allies in Colombia and the the entire southern cone if they have to take drastic measures against their own people.\n\nWhat does concern us is the stability of the middle east and what happens when the OPEC nations decide to raise crude oil prices that have a direct effect on our national infrastructure. \n\nWhat does concern us, The United States of America, is that we are doing our best to keep the entire system from falling apart. \n\nWe are just trying to keep the lights on.\n\nIf you think I mean that as a figure of speech, I'm sorry, but that's the real truth here. If the power goes out for two weeks, sanitation, water, food, transportation, and civil order disintegrate completely. We will have effectively set the clock back 300 years.\n\nIf you think that the NSA operates in the dark, you are right. The people who serve in silence and keep the secrets that let the entire world function relatively peacefully do so with honor. They work in the dark in small numbers.\n\nIf the lights went out in America, if they were turned back on, it would not be a pretty sight. \n\nRest assured, there are 350 million Americans and the NSA has no business in any one of their houses or apartments. But the average American has no day-to-day stake in what we are accomplishing with our programs at the NSA. \n\nYou need not be concerned with someone in a dark room in Maryland listening in on your calls, the NSA does a good job of making sure that the China and Russia aren't doing that already.\n\nHug your children. Tell your spouse you love them. If you're in Colorado, have a joint and visit a national park. Meditate. Pray. Have a beer and watch the game on Sunday. The big picture will overwhelm you and you'll never sees the trees though the forest.\n\nToday I can say with confidence that for the overwhelming majority of Americans today you don't \"need to know\" and believe me, as a young, idealistic, altruistic, junior Senator from Illinois who came out of nowhere to become the President of these great United States of America, you really don't want to know.\n\nGood night, and God Bless America.\n\n\n",
"I've never done this before and it's probably the shittiest thing I've ever written but here we go:\n\n---\n\nA family sits on their couch watching fox news. The dog rests in his bed, a solemn crucifix hangs above the television, and the fireplace roars. They sit together as one - bound by blood, bonds, strong traditional values and marriage in unity under the eyes of god.\n\nSuddenly the television flickers. A presidential seal on a blue background appears with a solid high pitch tone being emitted. Flashing white text almost seems to scream at them \"Emergency Presidential Broadcast\". The family is clearly distraught - they huddle together like sea clams.\n\nThe screen changes. A sleep deprived and exhausted Obama approaches the podium.\n\n\"My fellow Americans....\" he begins in a very heavy defeated tone. He fondles a stack of pages that seem almost as distressed as he is and continues:\n\n\"I'm addressing you today to...\" he starts to visibly shake along with the pages in his hands \"...to ...to tell you about the imminent threat to our nation, our beliefs and ultimately our way of life as we know it. As many of you are aware, we.. ah... your government and sworn protectors have been increasing our surveillance of the American people. At first we had hoped to prevent this catastrophe from happening or at least stopping it from taking away what we love... our freedom\" he looks down at the stack of papers \"we've failed you. Your children. Ourselves. Everyone...\"\n\nHe drops the papers on the floor, they spill out like crude oil down the esophagus of a baby seal.\n\n\"When I brought in a model of socialized health care for the American people I didn't realize the unintended consequences we'd be facing by accelerating a pre-existing condition in our nation... I didn't realize that the progressive values would start to change us so drastically.\"\n\nThe dog begins to growl in his sleep as though he were having a nightmare.\n\nObama looks down at the pages strewn across the floor and continues.\n\n\"We first noticed the small changes taking place shortly after 9/11. Some people were reported as acting strange... talking strange.. eating different foods.. wearing different clothes. Eventually we discovered a pattern... a p-plaid pattern. Over the years we followed the trend closely. It seemed under control until we passed Obamacare. Then things turned for the worse... the changes started moving too fast for us to follow...\"\n\nThe parents look worriedly at the screen as the program continues. Sensing their fear the baby starts to cry and the dog jumps into the fireplace howling with terror as it burns into fine ash. This is clearly more distressing than the president's speech - they turn off the television and try calling the police - the phone is dead.\n\nSomewhere in Washington the president wipes away a tear from his left eye \"...my fellow americans...\" he says with in a faint, hushed tone \"...you're all Hipster Canadians now...\"\n\nThe crucifix falls off the wall - impaling the television. It bleeds maple battery acid as the family of sea clams eats their dog.\n\nThe end.\n\n---\n\nAwful. I'll try again some other time.",
"“Ladies and gentlemen, the president of the United States.”\n\n\n*Applause*\n\n\n“Thank you… Thank you. My fellow Americans, tonight I want to talk to you about about the NSA, the National Security Administration -- why it matters, and where we go from here.\n\nOver the past year, what began as a series of minor leaks against the United States Government, have since escalated into what many individuals are portraying as a crisis. Over 500 documents been leaked. Millions are in danger as a result. In that time, America has worked with allies to provide humanitarian support to those who need it, and to help maintain the safety of the American people. But I have resisted calls for full disclosure, because we cannot resolve our security crisis through press conferences and meetings, particularly when it would jeopardize a decade of American safety. \n\nThe situation profoundly changed, though, on January 2nd, when Brasil reported an outbreak of infection on South American soil that caused the death over a thousand people, including hundreds of children. The images from this disaster are sickening: Men, women, children lying in piles, shredded and maimed. Others foaming at the mouth, gasping for breath. A father clutching his dead children, horrified they might get up and walk. On that terrible night, America saw in gruesome detail the horrors that can live inside us, and why the overwhelming majority of humanity has declared what humans can become off limits -- a crime against nature, and a violation of the laws of war.\n\nThis was not always the case. In World War I, German soldiers were among the many thousands killed by the Soulless during the freeze in Russia. In World War II, the Japanese used Soulless to inflict their horrors of disease, transformation, and death upon Nanking. Because these monsters can kill on a mass scale, with no distinction between soldier and infant, the civilized world has spent a century working to ban, destroy, and hide them. And in 1997, the United States Senate overwhelmingly approved an international agreement to keep track of these creatures within our own borders, an agreement now joined by 189 governments that represent 98 percent of humanity.\n\nOn January 2nd, the jeopardized state of this program blinded us. American soil was violated, along with our sense of common humanity. No one disputes that the NSA was a violation of some privacy. No one disputes that it was far reaching. But it was necessary, unless Porto de Galinhas becomes New York. Tomorrow, the classified photos will be released -- The world will see the thousands of videos, cell phone pictures, and accounts from the attack, and humanitarian organizations will tell stories of people -- good people -- who lay in hospital beds as their humanity drained from them, as they became became the creatures of nightmares and story books. \n\nMoreover, we do not know who was responsible. But, in the days leading up to August 2nd, we do know how the infection was released, and how it reached a large scale. The military was unprepared. We were unable to intervene; only now have American military forces secured the area.\n\nWhen dictators commit atrocities, it is humans that we are dealing with. The American people did not need to face their nightmares; creatures that shouldn't exist. We were willing to let those horrifying pictures fade from memory -- from all of our memory. But these things happened. The facts cannot be denied. The question now is what the United States of America, and the international community, is prepared to do about it. Because what happened to those people -- to those children -- is not only a violation of the laws of nature, it’s also a danger to our security.\n\nLet me explain why. If we fail to act, the Soulless Infection will see no opposition within our borders. It can fester and grow until American law enforcement is helpless against it. As the NSA surveillance program erodes, we will have no way of knowing who is infected. Over time, our troops would again face the prospect of Soulless who have fully transformed. And it could be easier for terrorist organizations to obtain the infection, and to use it to attack civilians. But it would turn on them. Like the apocalypses of fiction, these monsters would destroy us. \n\nThis is not a world we can accept. This is what’s at stake. And that is why, after careful deliberation, I determined that it is in the national security interests of the United States to monitor potential infected within America’s borders, and neutralize them with a military strike, before they transform. The purpose of this strike would be to deter the infection from creating Soulless in America, and the world, and to protect the people from what would only cause a mass panic. \n\nThat’s my judgment as Commander-in-Chief. I possess the authority to order military strikes, I believed it was right, in the presence of a direct or imminent threat to our security, to take this burden upon myself. I believe our democracy is stronger when the people know what they may have to face. And I believe that America acts more effectively abroad when we stand together.\n\nNow, I know that after the terrible things you have heard about the NSA, the idea of any surveillance of citizens, no matter how limited, is not going to be popular. After all, I’ve spent four and a half years working to maintain peace. And I know Americans want all of us in Washington -- especially me -- to concentrate on the task of building our nation honestly; educating our kids, growing our middle class.\n\nIt’s no wonder, then, that you’re asking hard questions. So let me answer some of the most important questions that I’ve heard from members of Congress, and that I’ve read in letters that you’ve sent to me.\n\nFirst, many of you have asked, isn’t this a violation of privacy? One man put it more bluntly: “This nation is sick and tired of deception.”\n\nMy answer is simple: I will not be monitoring innocent Americans. The infected, as hard as it may seem, are no longer the friends and family that you know. They are monsters in waiting. They will not hesitate to kill you, and everyone you love. It is worth it to me, and worth it to the American people for us all to be safe. \n\nI have, therefore, asked the leaders of Congress to postpone a vote against the use of force while we pursue a path of eradicating the threat outside of our borders, as well as in. I’m sending Secretary of State John Kerry to meet his Russian counterpart on Thursday, and I will continue my own discussions with leaders in China. I’ve spoken to the leaders of two of our closest allies, France and the United Kingdom, and we will work together in consultation with Russia and China to put forward a resolution at the U.N. Security Council requiring international monitoring of the infected, and a goal of ultimately destroying them under international control. We’ll also give U.N. inspectors the opportunity to report their findings about what happened on January 2nd. And we will continue to rally support from allies from Europe to the Americas -- from Asia to the Middle East -- who agree on the need for action.\n\nMeanwhile, I’ve decided that the time for hiding this threat is over. The American people need to know what we face, so that they can see why it is necessary. And tonight, I give thanks again to our military and their families for their incredible strength and sacrifices.\n\nMy fellow Americans, for nearly seven decades, the United States has been the anchor of global security. This has meant doing more than hiding the infected who still lurk in the uncivilized parts of the world-- it has meant eradicating them them. The burdens of leadership are often heavy, but the world is a better place because we have borne them.\n\nAnd so, to my friends on the right, I ask you to reconcile your commitment to America’s military might and security interests with a failure to act when a cause is so plainly just. To my friends on the left, I ask you to reconcile your belief in freedom and dignity for all people with those images of children writhing in pain, and going still on a cold hospital floor. For sometimes resolutions and statements of condemnation are simply not enough.\n\nIndeed, I’d ask every member of Congress, and those of you watching at home tonight, to view those videos of the attack, when they are released, and then ask: What kind of world will we live in if the United States of America sees Soulless running rampant on their own soil? What world will it be, when America has an opportunity to protect our children from monsters, and we fail because of political disagreement? The NSA is not popular, but it exists to protect us all.\n\nAmerica is not the world’s policeman. Terrible things happen across the globe, and it is beyond our means to right every wrong. But when, with modest sacrifice and surveillance, we can stop children from being torn to death, and thereby make our own lives safer over the long run, I believe we should not act against the NSA. I must ask of you a willingness to cooperate, for the sake of the children. For the sake of us all. That’s what makes America different. That’s what makes us exceptional. With humility, and with sacrifice, but with resolve, let us never lose sight of that essential truth.\n\nThank you. God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.\"\n\n*Transcripts Courtesy of the White House, January 17th, 2014*\n\n"
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[WP] A dry cleaning store's employee finds a strange message in the pocket of a customer's jacket.
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"The note made absolutely no sense to Jen. She had found it as she was going through the dark blue sports blazer they were about to clean. She hadn't seen who dropped it off so she couldn't even guess as to if the note were important or not. To her it seemed like a whole lot of nonesense, but to someone else it could be important. She hesitated a moment before placing it with the reciept so it wouldn't be lost. *You just never know these days* Jen thought.\n\n\n*M-*\n*Elephants.*\n*Baby's on the halftip.* \n*Pi.*\n*-K*\n\n\nMarkus laughed when Jen questioned him about the note. \"It is important! But not like you'd think. It's a love note from my wife!\" He turned the paper and pointed at the first line. \"Elephants is what I said after our first kiss. I was nervous and couldn't help thinking that elephants couldn't kiss like us because they have long noses.\" Jen smiled then pointed to the second line \"And...baby's on the half tip?\" Markus laughed again. \"It's a quote from a movie supposedly meaning everything's cool. She quotes movies all the time!\" Markus then smiled at the last of the note lovingly before turning to Jen. \"Pi means she loves me 3.14159 and on to infinity. She's a little nerdy, this wife of mine, what can I say?\" And with that he stuck the note in the breast pocket of his shirt. ",
"\"ATREX. they have found you. will raid shortly. abort operation. regroup Delta36.\"\n\n\"What the hell?\" Joe murmured. He reread the tiny scroll and quickly looked up to see that the customer had gone. Normally it would be anything from balled up tissues *eww* to a forgotten $20 bill *kaching* Or maybe something more personal; a shopping list, directions, hell once he'd even found a wedding invitation RSVP, though the lady had come back to get that. But this seemed, even felt, different, kind of urgent. The paper was a long thin strand with only this message printed on it, and Joe had found it rolled up like a scroll in the pocket. What made it feel strange was how instinctively he had immediately found it. There had been something very subtle in the way the guy had handed over the jacket, just so that the pocket screamed to be investigated before the garment would be put down. The guy had gone through all the details before he took off the jacket, which of course was weird because most folks would have it in their hands trying to ram it down your throat the moment they entered the store. He had signed it off under the name Dawson, not so mysterious, \"whatever, I'm just over thinking this.\" \n\nHe read the note again, and figured if it was even remotely relevant to him he would actually know what it was about. It was a bit exciting though, so he thought he would keep it.\n\nHell maybe it had even been for him? Maybe he was some kind of undercover spy, who was so undercover his memory had been wiped to make his story more realistic? Maybe that's why he had known to look for it in the jacket! And the word at the start *ATREX*, his name? Maybe a code to jog his memory? He had to think. Maybe he just had to remember?\n\nThe door chimed and Steve came back in from lunch. \"What did you get?\" Joe asked, though he didn't need too. He knew Steve would just be on his fat ass at the diner eating cheap steak and reading wrestling magazines, no worries though, it was 30 minutes of the day Joe didn't put up with his body odour. *\"Christ how could you smell so dirty when your entire profession was about making things clean?\"* \n\nSteve didn't respond, in fact he looked a little concerned. He stood in the doorway holding the door, glancing over his shoulder. \"Steve, you ok?\" Suddenly Steve returned to reality and strolled up to the front desk in his usual slouching walk. \"I'm fine man\" He respond \"What did I miss?\"\n\n\"Nothing special, found something weird in one of the jackets\"\n\nHe smiled \"another tissue?\"\n\n\"Hah, hell no, I found this note.\"\n\nJoe passed the scroll to Steve, who began squinting at the tiny letters.\n\n\"Its kind of weird, I would have asked...\"\n\nSteve glanced around and bounded over the counter, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me down to the floor. \n\n\"STEVE WHAT THE HEL-\" BOOM The front window exploded inwards and gunfire rained though its shattered remains, sweeping the hanging coats and jackets like palm leaves in a bullet hurricane. The noise was deafening, Steve remained low and calm, while Joe spasmed and panicked on the floor like a fish out of water. The top of the counter was torn apart and a whirlwind of fluff and lint filled the air. The spray began to let up, and a fog of power and frayed material began to gently settle. Joe heard footsteps approaching quickly and suddenly felt the pressure on his back disappear. He glanced up and saw Steve on his feet with a pistol in his hands. A cry went up and Steve began returning fire calmly and accurately. Twelve rounds were discharged, and then silence. \n\nSteve quickly looked down at Joe and then bought him to his feet. Joe cough and peered through the dust. Three bodies lay scattered throughout what was left of the store, with automatic weapons lying in silently in their hands. Joe heaved dryly, Steve only smiled. \"Joe...\" he started \"Its been an absolute pleasure hanging out in this dreary shit-hole, but I've got to split. Tell Ben I won't be able to make it in for tomorrow.\" Quickly he cast aside the pistol, tore off his outer coat, and calmly marched out the door.",
"The message meant nothing. It couldn't be read or deciphered. Just a chaotic scribble of lines with a seemingly unbreakable code. I angled the piece of wrinkled paper vertically, horizontally, and in every which direction. Still, my efforts were useless, and my time was once again wasted. This was the fourth piece of paper that emerged from the jacket. No one knew who this jacket had belonged to. The same cryptic message was scribbled on all four pieces of torn paper. \n\nI clenched my fist and crumpled the pieces of paper in my hand. The crackling sound of paper being crumpled pierced the air. Then, there was movement. \n\nI saw him. Sitting. Unnoticeable at first, but he now had my full attention. How could I have not noticed him? Sitting there, silently, motionless - until the sounds of paper crumbling. He was staring straight at me. I knew he was. He was wearing sunglasses and a low-brim hat. Dressed entirely in black. But, I could tell his eyes were burning straight through me. Age? Didn't matter. Why was he staring at me? My initial fear turned to frustration. The longer he stared, the angrier I became. It was time to say something.\n\n\"Why are you staring at me?\"\n\nNo response. I didn't expect one.\n\n\"*What* are you staring at?\"\n\nNo motion. No sound but my own heavy breaths and beating heart.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\nMy voice cracked. Mixed with fear and anger. I didn't know what to expect.\n\n\"What the *fuck* do you want?!\"\n\nHe stood. Tall as the longest shadow of a skyscraper during a sunset, his movement like the flickering of shadows of a fire. He was upon me before I could gasp another breath. He took off his sunglasses to reveal an empty pitch darkness in his eye sockets.\n\n*I want your eyes.*\n\nMy vision blurred, nothing could be read or deciphered. Just a chaotic scribble of lines with a seemingly unbreakable code. And everything went black.\n\n\n"
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[WP] Describe a bird to a blind person.
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"A bird is a small angelic creature that sings of the joy of its own creation. They are thought to be composed of starlight and amber. Quite impossible to know empirically because no one believes they are quite real. Once a very rich man commissioned a trap so that he could cage a pair of them. He desired to fall asleep to their song each night. The trap was brought and set at his windowsill. The man feigned sleep at his pillow. As the trap snapped shut he opened his eyes and found himself on the moon. Cold, naked and alone. ",
"\"Daddy, whats a bird?\" \n\nJohn stroked his young son's head, smiling at his overly curious mind. \n\"Well, a bird is an animal that can fly through the air, kind of like... \" he paused to gather his thoughts, \"an airplane. Remember when we went on a big airplane to visit grandma and grandpa for Christmas?\"\n\nThe child instantly lit up, his head bobbing up and down.\n\"I remember! I remember! It felt funny in my ears when we went up and down\" he pointed at his ears. \"So are birds big like airplanes?\" John chuckled, and replied, \"No, most birds are very small\" He grabbed his son's hands and curled them into tiny fists, \"Almost like the size of your hands. And then there are birds that are so big, they can come and *snatch* up little kids with their claws, like you\" John mimicked his hands into claws, and tickled his son's soft belly, garnering a fit of laughter from him. \n\nAfter the laughter subsided, the child paused for a second, and asked, \"What do they look like?.\" John scratched his head, taking a few seconds to think up an adequate description.\n\"Well, imagine something like Mika- \" Mika was their family dog, now snoring softly at the food of the child's bed \"but instead of front legs, they have wings. They also have these short and thin legs with claws as feet\" The child nodded slowly, signaling him to continue on \n\n\"Wings are kind of like their arms, which they use to fly by flapping them very fast\" The child flapped his arms excitedly \"Like this?\" he said. John laughed at his son's vein attempt to fly, \"Yup, just like that, but these wings are covered with feathers. Remember when Mika got to your old pillow and a bunch of feathers came out?\" Without opening his eyes, Mika wagged his tail for a few seconds, hitting the wooden bed frame with dull thuds.\n\n\"Birds have these feathers all over their bodies and it keeps them nice and warm, and also makes their bodies smooth, so they can soar through the air like airplanes\"\nThe child frowned his face for a second, and asked, \"So do they have wet noses and big floppy ears like Mika?\" John laughed, \"No, no, they have these tiny heads with beady little eyes. Their ears are mostly just holes in their heads instead of ears like yours or Mika's. They have these hard beaks for mouths, which they use to crush seeds and nuts to eat\" \n\nThe child remained silent for a few seconds, and replied, \"They must look really funny\"\n\n\nChuckling at his own lack of descriptive words, John retorted, \"Listen, why don't we go and meet a couple of parrots down at the pet shop this weekend? Some of them even talk to you\" The child responded excitedly, bouncing up and down in his bed. Smiling, John tucked his child back into bed and stood up, \"Alright kiddo, it's time for you to go to sleep. I'll answer another question tomorrow, okay?\" The child nodded, and pulled the blanket up higher. Walking towards the bedroom door, John shut off the lights, and turned to close the door.\n\n\"Good night Peter\"\n \n\"Good night Daddy\"\n\n\n\n\n",
"John and Rob held hands as they walked through the park. The early morning was alive and well with the bright sun, blue skies, and overabundance of birds. \n\nOr, at least that's what John could deduce from the intense warmth beaming down on his face and forearms, the lack of anything disrupting the heat rays, and the constant chirping of melodies. Occasionally, he wished he could see these things, including the sun; at least he'd have cornea to burn.\n\nOne thing he was very curious about, though, was the birds. He always thought of them. The visualization of worldly objects still largely remained a mystery to him, but oh, how birds intrigued him. Solely from observing their beautiful songs played every morning, he knew they were fantastic creatures. Knowing they were heralded as visually beautiful and could fly through the empty atmosphere above John only enhanced the mysticism. He stopped, let go of Rob's hand, and asked.\n\n\"Hey, Rob... What do birds look like?\"\n\nRob was taken back for a second by the question; usually John was quite comfortable with his lack of knowledge of the visual world, and usually didn't ask for the appearance of things unless it had logistic use to him.\n\n\"Well... uh... I... I don't know where to start,\" stuttered Rob. \"There's lots of different types of birds. They're all simply defined by having these soft strands called feathers, long limbs for flying called wings, and also they lay eggs.\"\n\nJohn thought for a while. \"But... What do they look like when they fly?\"\n\n\"Huh,\" pondered Rob. \"I never really thought of how to describe that.\" He looked up into the sky, searching for birds to help as a reference. He found none. \"The best I can do is try to help you visualize through senses you understand. You get me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, totally.\"\n\n\"Alright. Well... Imagine being weightless, as if gravity isn't pulling you down. You can't feel anything touching you, except the wind gushing around you as you're speeding through the air. You have complete freedom of movement; almost nothing can stop you, almost nothing can catch you.\" He pauses for a second. \"All anyone can do is gaze upon you, wishing they could do what you do.\" \n\nRob thought for a while, then asked, \"Do you ever feel how those people do? Wishing you could do something, instead of wondering how it's like?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" John stated bluntly. \"Occasionally. But it's not so bad. It helps when you're around. Although I can't see it, I have enough of an understanding of the world with you. Anyways, knowing too much takes all the mystery out of life, and that's no fun.\" John laughed. \"And when I need to know things, I can just incessantly ask you to describe them for me.\"\n\nRob laughed a bit. \"Alright, this is getting a bit too sappy for me.\" He grabbed John's hand. \"Shall we?\"\n\nRob smiled. \"Yeah.\"\n\nThe two continued their walk through the park, enjoying their mutual lack of understanding of the wondrous world around them.\n\n\n"
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[FF] You don't believe in love in first sight, but one encounter convinces you otherwise. ~50 to 200 words
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"John was a pretty smart guy. He knew there are no ghosts and no carma because there is no soul, at least not in the sense most people think of when they hear the word 'soul'. He wasn't religious, but every time he caught an evangelist on TV, he stopped clicking through the channels, and for a few minutes admired him or her. He watched their expensive watches and suits. He envied their air of self confidence, and their apparent ability to make money out of thin air just with their tongues.\n\nThe car he got out of was well under his means - a second hand Subaru. But it was a powerful, reliable, beautiful machine, and he paid for it entirely with cash. John wasn't the type to buy a flashy sports car, nor did he care that someone else had used it. He planned on buying a BMW when he advanced in his career, because of the prestige that would bring him. On his wrist was a 2500$ Omega, not because John enjoyed spending that 2500$, but because it showed that he can afford spending 2500$ for no practical purpose.\n\nHe went into the coffee shop, and passed a chubby woman reading her horoscope. He knew people reading horoscopes were stupid, but he was smart enough not to tell them his opinion.\n\nHe asked for a coffee. Black of course, no cream or sugar. And then he saw her. She wore her hair in an unusual color, she had a big tattoo from her neck, going down to her arm, maybe detouring to her back. She was peeling an orange while reading a book, and drops of juice occasionally stained the pages.\n\nHe was getting late for a meeting. He hesitated.\n\n'Hi, I'm John.'\n\n------------------------------\n\npoint out errors, I'm trying to improve my English",
"The music shook my very existence like the heartbeat of Mother Earth herself. Blisteringly loud walls of fuzzed-out guitar crashed into me in waves, washing away all of my stress and worries. \n\nBy day I was a staunch realist, unconvinced of superstition and \"gut feelings\". None of my coworkers knew me as anything more than dull and business-minded.\n\nBut tonight I had decided to indulge in my secret and guilty passion, the ethereal experience of shoegaze. The musicians swayed dreamlike up onstage in front of a wall of amplifiers. The crowd was silent, or at least drowned out by the impenetrable sound of the angels proceeding from the stage.\n\nI glanced around then, and it was as if one of the angels I could hear had alighted in the crowd. I had to catch my breath as she gently careened from side to side in the hazy pink lights, dark hair softly tumbling down. \n\nAnd when our gazes met, I could see that we were the same, just two drifters cleansing ourselves of the stress of our every day lives. \n\nAs the musicians poured their hearts out through amplifiers, we poured ours into each other then, uniting through the celestial noise of pure emotion. \n\nLove at first sight just needed the right moment to convince me. ",
"Every year we have to sing to our sister dorm. And every year we have to slow dance with them. These are the things they tell me as we walk up to Galloway. \n\nI sing Let's Get it On in my best impersonation of a black man's voice, which is actually kinda shitty. I am one of the last to mesh with the crowd. I am tall, and awkward. I do not like dancing. I do not like being social. \n\nBut before I know it she has taken my hands in hers and is leading me into the dance. I look up from the ground and see a sun shining just in front of my sternum. \n\nDumbstruck I stumble, and she laughs. I am in love, then she is gone as the upper classmen whisk me away to take shots before the party tonight. I hope she comes.",
"All eyes are on her as she enters the room. But I saw her first.\n\n*She’s mine.*\n\nLove at first sight? That’s just superficial nonsense for hopeless romantics. So what the hell is going on inside my chest right now? This is the first time I have ever felt my heart beat so hard it sends tremors through my entire body. My god, she is beautiful.\n\n*Did she just make eye contact?*\n\nI’ve never been so terrified in my life. She’s looking at me. \n\n*Was that the hint of a smile?*\n\nNo, it couldn’t be. I look down at my feet. I can feel the sweat gathering on my forehead. Heart still racing. This whole experience is foreign to me.\n\n*Just go over there, man. You can do it.*\n\nSomehow, my legs start working. \n\n*One step at a time.*\n\nI’m so close now. Our eyes are still locked together. My heart races as I approach.\n\nThe doctor smiles and hands her to me. \n\n‘Mr. Stevens, I’d like you to meet your daughter.’\n"
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Edit: I guess this would kind of count as an [EU], but since this just suddenly happens in a "normal" universe, I am going to say that [WP] works. I hope.
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[WP] As you are leaving your home for work, you notice a solitary, occupied, PokeBalls on your doorstep....
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"A childhood dream... that is what I found sitting on my doorstep 2 hours ago. A chance to be a pokemon trainer was everything my childhood self dreamed of ever since I got my own pokemon themed Game Boy Color. I dreamed of battleing my brothers and traveling to collect all 150, the 10 year old me would've opened this thing the moment he saw it just to find out which Pokemon I would be starting with.\n\nI had called into work and took a personal day, I told my wife I wasn't feeling well, she told me to feel better and headed off to work. Now i am just sitting her staring at it. Do I dare open it? Would it be a starter? is there any indication that this would be a low level Pokemon? Could I control anthing that would come out of it? I remember back to the TV show and how some Pokemon stood well over 10 feet tall, if not bigger. I remember some of those Poekdex entries, some Pokemon are twice as hot as the sun, some cant lift mountains, some are louder than a space shuttle launch, some shoot water at such rediculous pressures it could cut a 3 foot thick slab of steel in half with ease. Can I risk bringing such destruction into the world? Even if I could control the Pokemon inside, could I take care of it? I don't know what they eat, I don't have potions our antidotes, there certainly aren't PokeCenters. \n\nBut I can't just leave it in there, trapped. Pokemon are living creatures and can be a person's best friend, to leave one trapped in its pokeball would be cruel. This must have been left her for a reason, I know this has to be my destiny. After all how can you be the very best if you never take that first step.\n",
"Every morning, I wake up ten minutes before I leave for work, stumble around half-blind and get myself ready to leave. Sleep still blurring my vision, I trip on my way out the door and sometimes forget to lock it behind me. The cold air wakes me up so that I can safely drive to work.\n\nThat morning was different. It was the same stumbling inside my apartment, the same tripping out the door, but I noticed something as I recovered my balance. Next to my foot was a Pokeball.\n\n*Huh* I think. *Did one of my toys make it out here somehow?*\n\nI picked it up without thinking, feeling the chilly metal. Not a toy. Upon closer inspection, there was a pokemon inside. I couldn't tell which, but I could see a shadow. Before I could open it, I remembered that I needed to be at work in only a few minutes. I quickly stuffed the pokeball in my pocket and sped my way to work.\n\nI didn't pay much attention at work; instead I spent the day fondling the pokeball and wondering what was inside it. I don't think I missed anything important, at least I hoped I didn't. I was far too excited to get home.\n\nI was extremely nervous once I got home, not knowing what was inside the ball. What if it was a Tyrannitar or Wailord or something huge? A Skrelp that needs water to survive? A Pikachu that would short out the power in the apartment complex?\n\nIt didn't matter. I needed to know. I'd always wanted a Pokemon in real life, it didn't matter what it was. After much hesitation, I pressed the release button on the pokeball.\n\n\"Are you fucking kidding? Of all the Pokemon that exist, I was mysteriously given a fucking Igglybuff?\"\n\nThe next morning, the pokeball had found its way to a new doorstep."
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He is stuck in a looping period of time, however he continues to age. He can't interfere. The only end for him is for him to die of old age or to take his own life. How does he feel? How has he come to view this moment, does he accept it or abhor it? What does he think about?
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[WP] A time-traveller who is forced to relive a moment of great difficulty in his life.
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"The familiar feeling of falling surges through my body causing a wave of nausea, before I can wretch I’ve landed, this time on my back which is preferable to my face. My fist is still gripping the morning paper and I angrily throw it to the side. \n‘You’ve fucking done it again. You’ve time travelled.’ I spat \nNow taking notice of my surroundings I see a floral carpet, the almost matching curtains are a jade green and the wave of nausea hits me only this time I’m not travelling. I haven’t travelled back here, not once. Hearing the mumble of voices I edge to the kitchen I don’t bother to be silent, they can’t see, hear or feel me, I serve no purpose I’m just there. Maybe it’s my punishment. rewatching the moments of my life I hated myself most over and over. \n‘He’s just a friend Harry I’ve told you.’ Following the voice I saw the soft face of Adrianna her azure eyes looked my way but pierced right through me like a blade of ice. Her hair was blonde here, she must be what 20? It hung around her waist clinging to her curves, she was wearing nothing but a long t-shirt I’d never seen her look so beautiful. \n‘If he’s just a friend how come he’s called you twice today?’ the second voice replied, I didn’t look at him I couldn’t face it, even the sound of his voice made adrenaline rush through my veins. \n‘Look Harry, he’s getting divorced leave the man alone he’s just lonely.’ She moaned picking up a plate of the washboard and drying it with a dishcloth. \n‘I bet he doesn’t feel so lonely when you’re fucking him.’ The second voice snarled \nI heard the gasp, waited for her hand to meet his face, the slap echoed through my ears rotting at my brain. I wished with every fibre of my being that I would just walk away, that I wouldn’t retaliate. I opened my eyes hoping that maybe there was a God. Instead I watched myself punch her, my fist landed square on her cheek, the cracking of the bone made my skin crawl and I cried out, not that they could hear. \n‘You fucking slut.’ He shouted as I punched her again making her fall to the floor, I didn’t stop I kept laying into her until her body was still and all she could do was whimper. \n‘You fucking slut.’ I repeated my breath raspy heavy as I kicked her softer this time once more. \nI screamed ‘YOU BASTARD’ as the pulling feeling dragged me into an abyss of darkness and pack into the present. \n",
"I couldn't believe my luck. Here, still smoking slightly from its fall, was a time machine. It had fallen straight through the ceiling of the hotel foyer, crunching into cheap tiles a mere foot in front of my feet. It must have been a sign, there was no way this could be mere coincidence! \n \nThe device was sleek and black, composed of a dozen or so different cylinders that together almost formed a sphere. *Seconds*, said the one on the far left in clear white lettering. *Minutes* was next, and then *hours, days,* all the way to the far right cylinder which was labelled with a strange symbol I hadn't ever seen before. \n \nI poked it with my foot, half-expecting it to teleport back into the future or past, but it only lay there, sitting as still as though it had been here all day, instead of crashing through the space-time continuum a minute ago. \n \nOnce I reassured myself it wasn't going to explode, I carefully picked it up by the non-mobile two sides. Besides all of the rotating pieces, the only other thing on its face was a small display in the back with 12 figures glowing in soft white. As I watched, the one on the far right hit 8, then 9, and then dropped back to 0 as the second-farthest number jumped up by one. Now I understood! It must be like an odometer for time, measuring how far in time this device had come! \n \nThe display currently read 213946097154469850, which told me absolutely nothing, other than that this device had traveled immense distances of time to come to me. \n \nI picked it up, and twisted the *minutes* dial experimentally. The machine instantly grew hot in my hands, and I watched the windows to the street blur and stretch. Warm-colored streams raced by the streets outside, and the second hand on the clock on the wall was moving so fast it covered the whole clock in a red motion blur. \n \nI took my hand off the dial and checked the back. The last 4 or so numbers had certainly changed, but I wasn't sure what that meant. \n \nI needed to study this closer, and not here crouched over a crater. I hoisted it to the elevator, and kicked the 39th floor button with my foot. The doors had barely opened to my floor when I sprinted out and across the hall to my room. \n \nI was already packed. Sure, it had been a business trip I had in mind when I had packed the suitcase, but I was too excited to wait any longer to search for more supplies than a few changes of clothes and some stale chips. Besides, I could travel through time at will, couldn't I? The world was my suitcase. \n \nI began to feverishly write a goodbye note on cheap hotel stationary, explaining that I wouldn't be coming back and to tell my parents I loved them. I was pressing so hard in my excitement that I managed to break the pencil, so I reached over to grab another one. In doing so, I accidentally knocked into the right corner of the time machine. \n \nI realized what I had done a split-second later, and just barely managed to grab onto the device as it blurred and began to vanish. I saw the very closest digit jump, from a 2 to a 3. \n \nLast time it had grown merely hot; this time it was burning. It was like a hot coal in my hands scorching them so badly I let go of the device in surprise. And then, we both fell. \n \nI didn't know how far in the future or past I had just gone, but it must have been far. The sun's light was muted and dim, as though it was much weaker than it had been. The air was thin, and freezing cold. But more importantly, wherever or whenever I was, there was no hotel. No 39th floor. \n \nAs I fell, I reached desperately for the time machine, falling just beneath me. The wind whipped at my eyes, its howl a dull murmur in this dying air, and my fingers just barely managed to touch the time machine. It spun slightly, and then began to blur and vanish. \n \nI howled with frustration and fear as it dimmed and faded, the rapidly approaching ground of cold, grey rock visible through it. And also through it, I could see a hauntingly familiar sight. \n \nThe hotel lobby, with a person about to walk right underneath. I reached out my hand one final time, mere millimeters from touching the time machine... and then it was gone. \n \n*I couldn't believe my luck.*\n \n\n \n",
"It's happening again. The moving on so to speak. To the next important moment in my life. \n\nWait. No please wait. Not this one. Not again. \n\nThere she is. Look at her. She's as beautiful as I remember. Her eyes always stood out to me the most. They were this clear tropical ocean color, almost turquoise, but not quite. She was better than I in every way, completely out of my league. I don't know how I ended up with such a catch. Why can't I just pause time here, before she knew, before everything went wrong? Here I come, any second now. I'll be walking through that door. \n\nLook at me. I'm so nervous, as I should be. So full of regret, as I still am. Oh no. Please don't kiss me hello like that. Don't look at me like that with those eyes so full of love. Just wait until I tell you. Wait until you hear. I can't watch. \n\nAnd just like that her innocent view of the world is gone. Her romantic idea of love, gone. Her happiness, gone. Her hatred for me, came. \n\nI can see it in those eyes. Those eyes that used to be the color of the calm after a storm now look like a hurricane. Those eyes that were just moments ago filled with love for me are full of hurt and confusion. How could I do this to her? How could I throw our marriage away in one drunken night. I made the fatal mistake of trading a night for a lifetime. \n\nThere it is. The glass just shattered. You just threw the picture of our wedding day at me. I can't listen to the screaming, the yelling, the begging, the crying, the fighting. I've heard it all before. \n\nCan we move on now? Can we go? \n\nThere, that was the door. Until next time Anna. Until the night we first met, my love, my life, my only. ",
"*She falls.*\n\nWhen something awful – something terribly, horribly awful – happens to someone, they have the unfortunate tendency to revisit the moment where it all went wrong. Ask someone “What’s the quickest way around this particularly bothersome traffic jam?” or “Which newspaper has the best crossword?” and they’ll barely have to register the question before their excitable little mouths rattle off an answer. But toss morality into the mix and suddenly the face goes slack, the brain goes numb, and uncertainty rears its ugly head. It’s the flaw of humanity: the most difficult choices are the ones they have the most difficulty letting go.\n\nThing is, every single one of them can walk away from their moments. I can’t remove myself from mine.\n\n*She falls.*\n\nIt always starts the same: my daughter’s first trip to the zoo. There she is, looking up at the giant wrought iron gates, eyes sparkling, mouth open. I grab her hand and tell her, for the 223rd time, “Make sure you stay close to Daddy, Isabella. This place is really big; I don’t want you getting lost, okay?” There she goes, bobbing her little head in acknowledgment, bright red ringlets dancing all around her face. I know she won’t listen, but every time I try to change the words they catch in my throat.\n\n*She falls.*\n\nThe balloon stand looms before us: a pinnacle of cheer for her, a multi-colored plot twist for me. For the 377th time, I tug on her tiny hand, steering her anywhere but there. Sometimes, it’s even successful, and we walk past unscathed. Of course, not five minutes later, another appears on the path ahead. I should have noticed the “Children’s Day” sign hanging from the gates, but every time I’m too focused on my little girl and walk right by.\n\n*She falls.*\n\nWe come to the fork in the road. The signpost points in many directions, but for the 512th time, she protests loudly and proudly that she wants to see the “Beasts of the Savannah.” Everyone’s staring, or at least I pretend they do; the decision’s somehow easier if I think they’re judging me. I count the steps to the enclosure this time because I’ve run out of things to try.\n\n*She falls.*\n\nI didn’t know how adept a climber she had become since the last time I saw her. Perhaps if Mary had warned me that little Izzy was such a handful, there wouldn’t have been a first time. I feel the familiar tap on my shoulder, and the impulse to shrug the plump German woman off rises with stunning ferocity, but I turn, smile, and say, “Yeah, sure, I’ll take your picture,” for the 639th time.\n\nThe shutter flash, an enthused chuckle from her equally plump husband, and a quick peck on the cheek later, I turn just in time to see the little red ringlets disappear over the edge of the lion pit. For the 714th time, I scramble to the ledge and watch her\n\nfalling\n\nfalling\n\nfalling\n\nfalling\n\nI don’t know what compels me to look up every time: sometimes, I’m convinced it’s the sound of the alarm going off; other times it’s my name, called out from deep in the stumbling mass of people. Nothing should prevent me from losing sight of my little girl, even though everything already has. But I do look up, and for the 841st time, our eyes meet. It’s only for a second, but her intention is all too clear.\n\nUp to this point, it’s all inevitable. Here’s the choice – the real choice – I must make. Yes or no?\n\nI nod. She rolls over the side. Lands on both feet. Scoops scared little Izzy up. Heaves her up to my outstretched arms.\n\nThere’s never any time before the beasts pounce.\n\nWhen something awful – something terribly, horribly awful – happens to someone, they have the unfortunate tendency to revisit the moment where it all went wrong. Thing is, every single one of them can walk away from their moments. I can’t remove myself from mine because I’ve made the wrong choice every single time. I’m caught in a loop of my own moral design, destined to relive that horrible day until I can make the difficult choice. The choice to watch my daughter die.\n\nFor the 956th time, the sounds of torn flesh swirl around me as the scene goes dark. The darkness holds for a moment before Visitation 957 throws me violently back into existence.\n\nCan I make the difficult choice this time?\n\n*She falls.*\n\n-014",
"*Wish granted.* \n\n\nCRASH!\n\nOne thud, two thud, three. He had learned to cover his eyes after the first thud, it’s practically instinctual. His forearm took the batter of tiny, lethal droplets of glasses that took his eyesight the first time. \n\nThere were days, early on, where he would let the shattered glasses do their work. So he can shut out the scene as the world came crashing down, *his world*… oh, he can still hear her scream, of course, and he would join her but all that would entirely defeat the purpose. \n\nIt was his wish after all. \n\n*To see her again.*\n\nThe genie had warned him. Told him. Reminded him. Death is final, no wish can undo what Death has taken. But his wish remained the same. \n\nSo here he was. Here there were. \n\n“Hey, honey.” he managed to croak. \n\nSome days were better than the rest. These were the days when they would have a conversation. They talked about the good times; so he can forget the weight of the dashboard on his right feet, and she would forget the deep gash on her left temple that released a steady amount of blood throughout. At least, he hoped it helped. \n\nSometimes, all he can ever do is beg for forgiveness. He’d cried, in shame and sometimes in anger. She would console him, the best she could – and that would make it worse. So he would talk.\n \nAnd he’d talk and talk. About the good times - the stolen kisses and jokes and laughter - times when he did not crash the car after she had told him that he was driving too fast. Sometimes he’s so caught up in the memories that he misses the moments, the moments when her eyes would shut. They will never open again, at least until the next crash. \n\n***\n\nThere were days, early on, where he would let the shattered glasses do their work – oh how, he regretted them now. She had been screaming and crying non-stop for the past many, many years. No amount of talking or coaxing has worked; he knows, he had tried.\n\nCan you blame her? \n\nOut of frustration and curiousity, he managed a few peeks in the cracked sideview mirror if he craned his neck at just the right angle. Grey hair, wrinkly face. Who was this person? He had aged so much, he can’t even recognize himself. \n\nAnd then the screaming would stop. He’d turned and looked at her. \n\n“It’s okay, honey” he lied for the millionth time. “Everything’s going to be alright.”\n\nMaybe he was kidding himself. But he lived only for her last few moments now - that fleeting moment before her eyes shut, where there was almost a flicker of recognition in her eyes. *And maybe, love*. \n\nHe held on to that as the world spins into darkness and he braces himself for the next…\n\nCRASH!\n",
"***The marker changed to 5,433.***\n\nHe sat there. His eyes, forced open by the metal hands of his passive-aggressive death machine, stayed glued to the scene ahead of him. It was a bit comforting having the marker there. He could sort of keep a relative time of how long he'd been in here. Although who's keeping track? \n\nIt was the same as always. The bus pulls up; the kids file out. They are all perfectly normal kids. Gossiping about Pokemon cards and Barbie Dolls, how Mollie kissed Chuck behind the school barn, and the fact that the math homework was so hard. \n\nHe's started to remember their conversations. \n\n\"Billy, can I come over after school? My mom is out again and my dad is going to watch his football games.\"\n\n\"Sure. We're having lasagna,\" the kid who's Billy is munching on an apple.\n\nThen, like every time, a man runs up. He's pretty clothed up with a scarf covering his face. He takes out a shotgun and shoots Billy in the chest. He then proceeds to shoot five other children and two teachers. The others have scattered now.\n\nIt pains him to see this now. It wasn't anything big the first time.\n\nHe winces and struggles to break free but the braces have him controlled as always. \n\n*I guess they don't want a mass murderer shutting his own torture machine down,* he thinks. Although this seems obvious, he doesn't think like he used to.\n\nThe sweat on his brow stings his clammed open eyes. He can feel them watching him. He can feel them observing his pain. He's just an experiment. He's sorry. He is. He wishes they'd just kill him already.\n\nHe relaxes as the blood dies down. Billy lays with the apple clutched in his cold palm.\n\n***The marker changed to 5,434.***\n____________________________________________________________\nProbably not what you had in mind but I had the idea and stuck with it. -013"
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[WP] Write a story that describes the relationship between the water and a sailor.
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"The water was churning, big breakers folding in on themselves, dark eddies tormenting the pier, opening up to swallow whatever foolish mariner who was tempting the fates that day. A dark gray tempest had consumed the sky, scaring away all with any sort of pride. The man bent heavy on his cane, his broken mind no longer being able to understand gravity. With a heavy sigh he hobbled over to the dock, feet dragging lackadaisically, his cane threatening to punch it's way through the rotted wood. Struggling, he made it to the boat, never calling it his own. He wasn't foolish enough to think he could own anything, not after all was taken from him. The man gazed at the boat, in awe of it's pitted hull, the cracked gunwales that held the water away: but just barely so, the old chipped blades of the oars, the only instrument of power he had left. The man felt a tear well up, his broken body tensing, wanting to fall. He gathered himself and climbed into the boat.\n\n \n\nWeightless n the water, suspended from his fears: he found himself. His prison glared at him, that world grounded in gravity, where man could fall time and time again. A smile crept upon his lips. With the power that only a man freed knows he took his first stroke. Shoosh. The roll of the wheels in the track, the sound of his anger dissipating. Stroke, chuh. The click of the oarlock as it prepares for his power, a power that's limited by the chains of physics. Stroke, frush. The sound of the blade slicing through the water, a dark torpedo propelling him forward, releasing him from his prison. Stroke, hah. The sound the man makes as he laughs at his oppressor, a damning laugh that haunts Newton and all his followers.\n\n \n\nHe felt the rise of that old familiar feeling.... He hated it..... He welcomed it...\n\n \n\nThere was a mission now, to chase down the missing parts of him; the ethereal being of his memories, the kindness that used to fill his heart and his dead, blue eyes, but more important than all of those: his need for love to conquer his soul that was black and bitter from the hate. A hate that burnt through him like a wildfire, leaving all his joy and happiness burnt, tormented into wicked creatures that plagued him. Stroke. He pulled himself closer to his prize, driven by a reckless need to find himself. Stroke. The boat jumped forward, powered by a primordial desire burning deep in his chest. Aching, he pushed on. Stroke. A tendril of memory can be felt, a fuzzy memory of a boy with ice blue eyes flooded his mind.\n\nHe stopped.\n\n \n\nSitting there, he feels the gravity, it crushing him, stopping him from being able to breathe. A sinister wave comes and crashes over him, throwing him into the sea. Like an apple falling onto a man's head. Weighted, he starts to sink. He knows his broken mind could never overcome gravity. A searing light consumes his eyes. He screams and tries to push away from his dark angel, his past. It fills him, lifts him. He was there. Eyes like glaciers pleading with him, No they said. Hair like a horse, brown and fine, clumped at its points. Lips furrowed in a slight frown, impatient with the world and its stagnant pace. Lips that told a story, a sad story nonetheless. He remembered. The gravity overtook him, lifting him. He fought endlessly wanting to go down to his grave. He saw his boat. Broken and splintered by the waves, pieces of it starting to sag in the water. Wanting to be consumed. Out of the water he rose, forever endlessly towards the inky abyss above. The great light pulsating, filling the sky with a midnight twinkle.\n\n \n\nShining on forever",
"I am alone on a small schooner. No civilization for miles. Everything within my little kingdom depends on me. My shipmates would help if I had any, but right now I don't. \n\nThe current dies. Without it, I cannot travel. Water is mobility. Water is freedom. It picks up again. Water is purpose.\n\nI hunger and I thirst. I must acquire sustenance, or I will die. Retrieving my rod from the tiny cabin where I sleep every night, I turn to the water. It will provide. It must provide. For water is food. I dip my desalination canteen into the great well below. Water is liquid. Water is sustenance. \n\nI grow bored. I look out over the great expanse of natural wonder, of beauty, of blue waves sparkling in the reflected sunlight. Flecks of yellow dance across the sea, drawing fish into a wonderful world entirely different from the drab urban surroundings from which I escaped. Water is art. Water is entertainment.\n\nI am lonely, as I have been alone for months now. But not truly. I look to the water, and there I see dolphins. They dance and they play, like large little children with joyful enthusiasm, impressed with all they see. I shake my nose at them. A light rise rocks my craft slightly, reminding me it still watches, it still cares, it still provides. Water is companionship. Water is friend.\n\nI return to the little cabin, but immediately depart. I sleep in there when the sea is in a bad mood or the wind is in a hurry, but that is not home. All I can see is home. It is open, it is inviting. It welcomes me in, with open arms, waiting to accept me. We fight sometimes, but always make up. We must make up, for we are one. Water is home. Water is family. Water is me."
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[WP] The hero of the adventure ultimately succeeds and defeats the villain, but is mortally wounded during the final battle. Write the hero's final monologue as he dies.
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"He had succeeded. His time spent in the jungle was not wasted. The wolves and lizards death were not in vain. they gave him the experience he needed to kill the true monster, a grotesque crab like being. Alas it came at the price of his life. The Crab had set him ablaze; he could feel his long blood drenched dreads burning at his back as the flame slowly made it's way up. he was running out of time. he had to say something to the archer and the pyromancer who had helped him succeed. they had to know that he had no regrets returning to the fountain of their birth, where the three of them had begun their journey, in this manner. But he was pressed for time the flame would consume him soon. He began to fall back. He looked at his claws in hopes of finding balance. All he found was the blood of the enemy. he smiled and fell back. \"you saved me\" whispered the pyromancer. \"the child thinks i did it for her, how naive\" he thought. \"you should've backed off, i could've killed him\" yelled the archer. It was true, he could've lived if he hadn't taken as many hits as he did. but that dint matter now. His time was up and with the last of his strength he let out a mighty roar that could be heard all across the fields of justice \"WORTH!!!\". his body lay there in near a brush by the river. His friends had left. The monsters ally, a jester now imbued with the power of the golem and the lizard, gazed upon the corpse. and muttered under his breath \"They really need to nerf Rengar\"\n\n^I ^hope ^someone ^gets ^the ^reference ",
"\"Time now to have a rest. To think of home, where the sun is always shining. Such a long fight, it's really taken it out of me. Home...\n\n\"I can see the sun rising now. I can hear the sparrows harmonise in their morning song. The smell of bread baking, the taste of bruised blackberries as the paint your lips. God, it's been so long since I've been home. What has it been? Ten years? Twenty? \n\n\"Sara? Why are you crying? There's no need to cry, we've won. We're going home\". ",
"Heron always told me that my life would flash before my eyes as I die – but he was wrong. The moment is long, and the moment feels eternal. Torturous. Awaiting without end that ever fleeting revelation that all has come to a somber and empty finale. \n\nI’m supposed to feel…proud, and noble…feel like my sacrifice was worth something. And yet as I lay here, blood seeping slowly into these wretched stone halls, clutching onto my steel-mangled flesh, I feel naught but bitterness. The men always said that men like us – men who are born only to fight – can only find their glory in death…but all I find here is silence. The overbearing silence and finality of life’s end is all that awaits us at the end of our journey, and it is as suffocating as my foolish desire for vengeance. \n\nNo, there is no vindication to be had. It was not justice that willed me to drive this dagger into your throat and then your eye. It was the madness of retribution. You took from me everything, everything that made me who I was so in return I took your life. It is only now, when you’re gone and are naught but a heap of rotting flesh that I see with clarity that all I’ve done was grant you the mercy you desired most. You passed instantly – I left you no quarter. I’m still alive. Waiting, and waiting. And waiting. \n\nHeron, that old kook. If only I could see you one last time and confess again to you how right you were, and listen to you scold and tell me “I told you so.” But if there is one epiphany to be had tonight in this final hour it would be this. We who bury ourselves in the occupation of taking lives can ever only find two destinies – to be an eternally steel-bound corpse, or a monster. We live in different worlds, you and I, you next to god’s ear, and I next to Lucifer’s. Mine is a world of instant gratification, of endless searches for satisfaction, swimming eternally against the current in hopes that perhaps dreams of a world gone by might finally be realized when we’re finally ready for them at the end. But by then it is already too late isn’t it? The curtain calls; we exit stage left and all that's left in the darkness is the quiet resignation of our bodies, our shallow breathing fading away into the night.",
"I'm going with internal monologue (except the very last bit). Hope that's cool.\n\n-\n-\n-\nHuh. This kind of sucks. Defeated the Dark Lord, saved the world. I wanted to see what the world looked like in peace. When it wasn't completely covered in darkness and fighting against all odds to preserve the merest speck of life. A world like that would probably be beautiful. There would be trees, real trees. Not the dark ones that reach and rend at skin, but the kind that give you shade to read in. \n\nI've only read two books, and they were both prophecies about myself. How is that fair? I wanted to read more, to go to a library, grab everything they had, and just sit. Be at peace. I don't even know what peace feels like. Been fighting my whole life. I'm sick of fighting. \n\nAnd it's not like anybody really helped. I mean, yeah, they came along. But at the end of the day it's me against the enemy, and my battle's the only one that really matters. Hell of a burden to bear. \n\nSeriously! Now that I think about it, the world's been depending on me since I was 8! I just want to go back home, do it all over again. I want mom to be alive. I want dad to not cry all the time. I want to go run through the fields with Cris and Porter and Fat Flora, not knowing anything of death or dying. \n\nI wish I was dead already. They'll be expecting me to say something inspiring before I pass, because that's my role. Fletcher, the self-sacrificing hero. I never wanted to be a hero. I wanted to be an innkeeper. \n\nBut, you know what, I've come this far. I can accomplish one more task. Not like it matters now anyway. The shouting's going to hurt though. Maybe if I'm lucky it'll kill me mid-speech. \n\n*Men! Women! Together we have stood strong! Together we have vanquished the enemy! Together we have ensured the survival of our people! I will die soon, but you must continue to stand together. To stand strong. To progress, and fight for liberty, and justice, and equality. Be kind to each other. Love each other. Care for each other. Unite the nations as one, as they are united here today. Create a civilization that will be worthy of our sacrifices. Not just of mine and all the dead that lie before you, but of everyone who languished under darkness! This fight ends, but a new one begins!*\n\nNot bad, if I do say so myself. Should do at least a little bit of good, though I doubt they'll actually follow too much of it. Guess I'm just going to wait to die now. Oh, they want me to say something again. All right, think. Something emotional, something inspiring.\n\n*VICTORY!*\n\nWhat did they expect? I'm not exactly doing so good here. I me-\n",
"The hero, adorned in what was once pristine and ornate armor, kneels before the crumpled figure that used to be his mortal enemy. He keeps himself propped up with the aid of his now broken long sword. Where it had once been a heroic weapon it was now a legendary relic. The sword's blade was broken, its magic powers expended and it's wielder was no longer able. The hero reached down and felt the hole with his hand. The famed mithril armor he had worn was killing him, the result of the fight he had fought. The mangled chestplate had been broken in and he knew he had moments before he succumbed. He glanced around the empty hall and his eyes were caught by the fire that had been started during the fight. It was raging, but soon it too would die once all the wreckage was cinder.\n\n*So bright it burns, yet I know it will fade all too soon. Brilliance is meaningless if it goes unused or unappreciated. You now lay before me, but you have never been lesser than me. It was you who made me find my brilliance. I could never forgive the things that you had done, the pain you inflicted, the cities you razed, and the countless lives you crushed in your pursuit. Forgiveness couldn't be allowed, but I have empathized with you for some time. In the course of my quest to stop you I have learned much about you. Knowing the reasons and history behind you and your actions has given me an understanding and respect. Had it not been for you these last three years of my life would have been different and lifeless in comparison. It was you who inspired me and you who gave me the chances and ways of finding redemption, enlightenment, and love. You were responsible for me becoming great and for that I thank you. You were a villain seeking good ends through terrible, yet logical means. You were greater than I could ever be. With and audience of one, I can't help but grieve that all I have learned, all the deeper matters behind you and me will mainly be forgotten. You should know that this audience of one will never forget. I can only pray that I meet you in the next life, for I would like that very much. My time here is drawing to a close, and while I would have liked more time, I see no fault with the way things are ending. I now can only ask if you can forgive me. You may lay before me, but I must turn away for I desire to lay before the direction of my home. I am honored to lay in your great mausoleum alongside you for history will remember the greatness of us if it ever finds us. Goodnight my friend, I will be seeing you again.*\n\nAnd with the end of that speech, in an empty and burning room, the hero fell, but turned his head so it faced the east. Facing the small house and cobbler shop he had grown in, he resigned himself to a smile and let the brilliance in his eyes dim. ",
"I'll die, knowing that the world won't, knowing that your last laugh signifies my victory, not yours, knowing that I'll be remembered - knowing that I lived a life, worth living. Your infamous name would echo through tartarus, while mine would shine in the heavens. The people wouldn't cry over my grave - they'd be too occupied, laughing at yours. You think you were able to hurt me - you'll be dead, and you think, *so will I*, however, legacies live forever."
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Maybe an official after action report, maybe a tale being told 20 years in the future in a bar to an author. My personal choice would have the scene taking place at a closed Senate hearing. Length isn't that important but don't be too short. Have Fun and I look forward to seeing the responses!
Edit: Use any kind of Zombies from any universe you want.
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[WP] You are a member of an elite US Military unit who has had first contact with Zombies in the heart of Africa.
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"It always fun to rationalize killing them. It pretty much became a game of \"Who can tell the best story?\" You see, when someone's already dead, it doesn't matter what you do to them. If you're fighting an actual war, with living people, who have emotions and thoughts and maybe even families, then there's guilt. There's remorse. There's even sympathy. It's pretty much unanimously agreed that a human life is the only intrinsically valued thing in the world. So, when you extinguish that life, you've just blotted out the only thing in the entire world that had any value. Which means, regardless of your justifications for extinguishing said life, you will feel guilty. It's human nature.\n\nUnfortunately, when you're killing something that's already dead, that same line of logic that directs you to an undeniable morality, is shattered. People couldn't give two shits if decapitated one of the Dead. Why should they care? They're already dead, and you're just keeping people safe by ridding the world of them. You are not destroying a life, you're saving a life that's already been destroyed, or so they claim.\n\nIn the beginning it all made sense. We were more or less trapped, in a jungle, in Africa. We could've been fighting the Dead, or panthers, or goddamn aliens for all we cared. It didn't matter what we fought or killed, so long as we survived. And survive we did, despite the nightmarish visages that greeted us at nigh every turn we took. You never get used to the stench of rotting flesh, I suppose you could, if you were exposed to it consistently. But we didn't have that luxury, we could sometimes travel days without encountering any of the Dead. We weren't stupid though, we knew that that was a curse, not a blessing. For every time we journeyed of long periods without seeing any of the undead beings, we could be sure that when we did finally confront one, it's grisly appearance and pungent scent would make our stomachs churn. Churn to the point of overflowing.\n\nDespite the way our society has shaped us, providing a sort of dissonance between us and the violence and horrors of the world, nothing could've possibly prepared us for the disfigurement of the Dead. You may think you're tough, you may think you're strong, you're brave, you're courageous, you're unstoppable, but those are just words you say to comfort yourself. Those are just ideas you shape to pretend that you are not as craven as you want to believe. Those things you think you are may even be true, but they're only true in your world. Your world of science and reason and logic and rationality. Your world of the banal and the mundane and the possible. Your ideals do not function in my world because my world is not like yours. There are phenomenon in my world that you cannot explain with your logic and thus you cannot impose your ideals upon.\n\nThere are things in my world the likes of which you will never see, atrocities I hope you will never have to hear about. Not just atrocities of the body, of the degradation of flesh and bone, of the spilling of blood, and evisceration of corpses. But barbarities of the mind, of the human brain breaking down on every possible psychological level. The things that you think you are, the ideas you pretend to embody, hold no power in the world in which I live.\n\nThe weapons you suppose to have, the intellect you boast to maintain, mean absolutely nothing. Not in my world. You cannot call yourself brave until you have seen blood drank as I have, you cannot pretend to be courageous until you risk excruciating pain in order to survive.\n\nYou cannot be unstoppable, not where I live, you aren't strong enough. None of us were.",
"Before the War, I'd been a member of the USMC for ten years. I'd fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. I'd killed humans before. Seen things people should not see. I maintain that the first time I saw a zombie, I was more scared than I had ever been in my entire life. \n\nThere were moments when I truly believed I was going to die. Lord knows, Fallujah was a bad moment for everybody. But, I never once considered that I would be anything more than a casualty. I knew we would win, with absolute certainty. I knew that the might of the United States military would crush our enemies, that the forces of good would prevail over the forces of evil. \n\nSee, the deployment was solid. It was just another combat op. We got groundside real quick, part of the expeditionary force sent in after Cape Town. By this point, we already knew about zombies. We touched ground on CAR soil in January 2010, so this was way after the first cases. Right before the Great Panic. We all got briefed, we all got trained to shoot for the head. We were still carrying M4s, same field gear as before, just with some extra kevlar on the arms and legs in case we got tackled. It was a bit hard to move in those shark suits, but, hey, they felt safe. \n\nWe were told to head into the village, we were just a kilometer out from it- head to the village, determine the density of infection, and see if we could exfiltrate the aid workers, CDC and WHO reps sent in to examine and attempt to treat the virus. This was right about the time Delta, SAS and all the big, bad specops types were in deep trying to take out flashpoint outbreaks in the homelands. It was up to us \"regular\" badasses to do the dirty stuff overseas. So, that said, we found ourselves headed into this little village. Population 1200. 30 aid workers. Zero communications. Twelve marines. What could possibly go wrong?\n\nWe advanced on the village without making so much as a squeak. We knew about their hearing and all the \"sixth sense\" crap, so, we played it safe. Got to the town, then came up with a plan. Just outside the perimeter, we had one of the Blackhawks circle around, flick the lights on and blast some music, opposite of our position. That was when my heart started pounding. \n\nThey started coming, quick. Like they were just waiting for their cue. Maybe three hundred of them, a horde. Just pouring out into the forest. The hawk moved off ever-so-slowly, enticing them onwards. Another was called for extraction and we got to working. With such a large number of corpses, we knew what was going to happen, so we radioed in and HQ just said to find the clinic, check for any paperwork or survivors, pop a flare and exfil from the town center. Evac chopper would be on site in five minutes. \n\nIt was actually easy, believe it or not. We walked right in, no opposition. Town felt almost deserted. Then, we found out why. Corpses piled up in body bags, along the walls. A few exposed ones, just laying where they fell. Dropped guns, spent shells, discarded mags. Lots of AKs, but, none of our stuff. Every corpse either had a bullet wound in the face or a missing head. When we entered the clinic, there were some strapped to the bed. Probably the first to get infected. All had knife wounds in their heads. We quickly secured the area, found some paperwork, pictures, and audiologs. A few cellphones. Personal effects. We took them all, just to be safe. \n\nOne of our guys looking around realized that the place wasn't a normal building, it was a bank. I didn't realize it at first, but, damn if he wasn't right. Hard to notice these things in the middle of the night and you're fixated on corpses. Then, as if someone flicked a switch, we all looked towards the vault. It was sealed. Two of our pointmen, Dantana and Ricky, walked over to it. I can just remember it- Dantana put his head to the door, and knocked twice. He smiled, all of a sudden. He heard voices. The door wasn't locked, but it was sealed- just enough to keep the zombies out, but not enough to stop someone who knew how to turn a wheel. Everybody instantly had their rifles trained on the door.\n\nAnd that's when we saw the aid workers and crew. They were emaciated, some looking really sick. No bites. They'd recover, so long as we got them out quick. We radioed it in and got the exact response we'd expected; there's an Osprey on the way, and two Blackhawks. ETA, a minute or so. Job well done. We all fell into a rigid defense formation and secured the bank entrances until our rides could get outside. We got the buzz for 30 seconds out, popped the flares and got ready to deal with any last minute bad guys. I could hear the choppers coming in. \n\nWith no pomp, circumstance or fuss, they landed in the open clearing that seemed to have once been a bazaar or market. The other squad with us got into their chopper, we stayed on the perimeter while the civilians funneled into the Osprey. A few seconds later and, bam, Osprey was back in the air, with the other chopper. We began to move back towards ours. I was stationed near an alley between the bank and a house, close to the hawk. As moved to turn around, that's when the wooden door to my left exploded into splinters. \n\nHe was a big motherfucker. Maybe 6'2\", probably about 220 pounds. Got me right onto the ground and bit into my left arm. I screamed so fucking loud, started kicking. My training kicked in, and I immediately reached for my knife. The thing was biting down onto my arm- I didn't know if he had pierced the armor, my adrenaline stopped me from even thinking about it. I tore the knife out of its holster and went to plunge it into the damn thing's head, but it moved to tackle me down further. I kicked it off, its teeth sliding off the kevlar. I stepped back immediately, and took a quick glance at my arm. The only illumination was from the flood lights on the other Hawk, hovering above. I dropped my knife and brought the M4 at my side to bear.\n\nNow, remember how I said I had moments where I truly believed I was going to die? This was one of them. But, there was something different. I was SCARED. Not in the usual, \"fuck, I'm going to die\", way, but in the \"this may be a bigger issue than I expected\" way. Was it the virus? Maybe. Was it the fact that out of instinct I shot the bastard in the fucking chest with four 5.56 rounds and he didn't go down, and kept coming for me? Probably. It had only been a matter of seconds, and, if my yelling didn't get my squad's attention, the gunshots did. I didn't need to take aim again, as, all around me, the reports of silenced M4s rang off and dozens of rounds punched into the thing. Its head exploded and it fell to the ground. We all sprinted into the helicopter and got out of there in less than thirty seconds. \n\nIt was a standard op. We took no casualties. All assets were retrieved. By any means, a raving success. And yet, I was terrified. And then, as we took off into the distance, I caught a glimpse of what the moonlight illuminated. A sea of corpses, walking in all directions. Towards the town, towards the now gone distraction heli, and towards our group of quickly escaping rides.\n\nFor a brief second, I heard the moans over the sound of the rotors. I think that was the moment when I realized we were in deep shit.\n"
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[WP] You suddenly find yourself in a video game or book, but you are not any of the main characters. What happens?
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"Tom begins to mouth a word but suddenly starts laughing, \"This is so weird. My voice is so high.\"\n\n\"Wait, I'm a fucking peasant girl,\" yells Tom as he stands in the body of his digital avatar and examines it in a long mirror.\n\n\"I spent 45 minutes putting on this VR suit to test your stupid simulation and you made me a peasant girl,\" he exclaims. \n\nA voice comes in to Tom's earphone, \"Look, we have 10 volunteers, all male, and this sim has 10 roles. Someone has to be the peasant girl who runs the inn and starts those quests and... falls in love with the hero. You drew the short straw this time, sorry! Hey, at least you're not the village prostitute.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm so lucky. Wait, this game doesn't have prostitutes!\" replies Tom.\n\n\n The voice in his earphone chuckles and replies, \"Just play along, we'll make you a boss next time we run the sim. Dunno, maybe next month if the funding comes through. Let's just run through this 6 hour shift. We'll take a break for lunch in the middle.\"\n\n\nTom stands there behind an oak counter in a medieval fantasy inn. He bends his neck and looks at the short skirt he's wearing, pulling down its hem as low as it goes, but his avatar's wide hips don't allow too much downward movement of the fabric. He then sees his generous cleavage and grabs at it, feeling the haptic resistance in his gloves. \"So weird,\" he says to himself. \n\n\"Okay just be cool with it,\" he says, pushing long virtual blonde locks out of the way of his eyes. He sighs, bends down, picks up a wet rag and begins wiping down the bar. A elf adventurer chuckles watching Tom's bosom bounce with his awkward movements. Tom blushes and stands up straighter giving the elf a less impressive view and cleans off the bar less vigorously, carefully limiting the amount of bosom exposure. The elf gets up and leaves an unusually generous tip. Tom reaches for the gold coin and daintily puts the coin in a small pocket on the front of his dress, his long nails making the buttoned pocket difficult to open and close.\n\nA tall and burly human adventurer enters the inn, leaves his battleaxe in the corner, walks up to Tom, and begins to read his lines. Tom steps back feeling uncomfortably close to the bare-chested man and is surprised at how tall and wide the adventurer is compared to his own petite avatar. He involuntarily covers his exposed cleavage with his hand as the man looks down at him.\n\nTom gulps as he looks at the text he needs to read, but continues anyway, \"M'lord, my father said to expect you, but I did not expect anyone so.... strong and handsome. Tee-hee,\" he says wincing to himself. The adventurer leans over and kisses Tom's hand as Tom feels the haptic kiss on his glove. \n\n\"Oh man, this is so cheesy, I don't believe I used to play this game,\" Tom says as the voice in his ear says, \"Now you know why women complain about female characters in games. Anyway, stay on script! No improv.\"\n\n\"Speak proper King's tongue, wench,\" chastises the burly adventurer as Tom clears his throat and continues to read his script. He continues playing the role, occasionally checking the digital watch in his headset, counting down the hours.",
"I wake up screaming when they rip my fingernails out of my hand. I don't know how I got here. I think I must have died. \n\n\nPipe to the knee cap. I scream again, and I beg them to stop. \n\n\nThere's no point. They call me 'bitch' and 'whore'. They'll keep going until he comes. The main player, I mean. I recognized him from the advertisements on television and the 'wanted' posters here. Before I came here, before I woke up in this God forsaken hell hole, he was just a character in a video game. I'd never played it before. I still don't know what it's about.\n\n\nAnd yet somehow, I woke up here. I think this must be hell. I don't know how long I've been locked up in this putrid, rotting school house but I know I'm not getting out any time soon. Sometimes he comes. Sometimes he saves me and lets me go, but I never get far. I run out of the door, or I crawl out through a window and then suddenly everything goes black and - \n\n\n**\"FEEL IT, BITCH!\"**\n\n\nA knife plunges into my arm and rips downward to my elbow. I shriek. God this hurts....Oh God, this hurts so fucking bad....please...please just let me go...please I just...I don't know what I've done to deserve this...\n\n\nIt's no use begging. I know this...how much longer until he gets here? Is he just fucking around? Looking for treasure? For bonus points? \n\n\nThe door opens, a black clad figure jogs in with his guns drawn and my tormentors turn on him. He fires, misses. They lunge, pipe to the face. Somehow, he recovers. Shotgun blast to the chest - one goes down. Rifle butt to the second - second goes down. \n\n\n**New objective:** Release prisoner. \n\n\nHe unties me. Oh god, oh thank God....I'm free..it stops. I'm free, if I can just wait for a moment, if I can just...\n\n\nHe turns away and walks towards the door. I want to beg him to stay. If he stays, maybe I'll be safe a little longer. But I can't talk - I don't have any lines! No, stop! Please, please don't go! \n\n\nTurn around!\n\n\nFor fucks sake, *TURN AROUND!*\n\n\nPLEASE, FUCKING **STOP, PLEASE**! DON'T DO THIS, *I NEED YOU, PLEASE!*\n\n\nI wake up screaming when they rip my fingernails out of my hand.\n"
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Like the title says. Specification of a mythical creature can be anything that could at least be as intelligent as a human, i.e. faun, centaur, Minotaur, although not limited to a "half human half X" model.
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[WP] Humans have had to coexist with a mythical (sentient) creature of your choice, write from the perspective of one of these creatures.
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"When I was very young, well I'm still quite young, but I was barely a child then. Anyway, a few hundred years or so ago, my master and king had decided it would be best to just cut contact with the humans and remain in our own realm. They used to be nothing more than clever animals, fun to play tricks on and make impossible deals with. But they had started to become more then that. The world had become theirs. They explored it and settled it and made it ever smaller as they became greater. It was time to leave them be.\n\nThere were plenty that didn't want to go, their narcissism making it impossible for them to accept that they were no longer our playthings. But we were some of the only ones left. The dragons and giants had long ago retreated underground, the gods were walking the ground less and less frequently, and as they built more cities and roads it was becoming harder and harder to manipulate or even just keep out of sight.\n\nThe queen was the main reason we stayed so long. She refused to give it up, but eventually even she had to admit our king was right. It was time to go.\n\nSo we traveled to the circles, the mounds, the places of crossing. The sun was setting and the air was heavy and sickly sweet. The honey-straw forest was the last image I remember before we crossed over and sealed the way.\n\nFrom then on we lived in the crystalline song that was our realm. I resided in a wing of the castle with a few others that belonged to my master our king. A young griffon and a kit. All in all I was content. I thought that was how the world would remain from now on. How young and naive I was. How young I still am.\n\nOne of the queen's sons. Well, technically he was the spawn of both our lords, but he belonged to the queen. He had her self-centeredness and arrogance, but was so much more ignorant. He was even younger than I. He didn't even have any memories of the world beyond our realm.\n\nWell, the stupid brat he was, he thought that he could take the world back. He broke the seals. He and many other spilled out. The world was so much smaller and they were so much more, but for a while it actually looked like the queen's son would achieve his goal. They had forgotten that we actually existed it seems. But of course that didn't mean we could take them.\n\nA few of them still had some of our blood in them, diluted through generations, but their lineage could still be traced back to an unorthodox coupling. It was one of them that ended the queen's son. Just 6 seasons after the seal was broken one of them managed to kill the brat. The queen was furious, but the king my master laughed.\n\nIt was clear that we couldn't just disappear again and reseal the way. The world was too small and they were too great to forget us again, to allow us to go. It was clear we would have to come back into their world.\n\nI'll admit, it isn't quite what I remembered, but then again I was really young then. It's a lot dirtier than our world, but it has grown to have this crazy sort of magic. They've learned to control the elements in ways I never thought possible, using lightning and metals to speak and send images over long distances. It's amazing indeed.\n\nMy master and king has taken in the mostly human that killed the queen's son, and I have been given permission to leave and go learn some of the strange new magic that they have formed. Today I formed the lightning and elements to form glyphs out of light. \"Hello World\" Oh man I am still so young. So much about this world is a mystery. Hello indeed.",
"We get the land and they get the sea. That was decided by the Human Merman Relations and Cohabitations Act in 2024. Pretty simple. Pretty simple except I had to go and fuck it up by falling in love, didn't I? \n\n\nIn my youth, my parents had this summer house on the beach in Cornwall. Me and my brother would pass a classic British summer there, jumping over freezing waves and watching the older kids surf out to catch the big one, or eating ice-creams in the rain on the pebbly shore. We went rock pooling, me with my little sandals and a little net with which I hoped to catch crabs or something. The sun was warm and I soon discarded my raincoat. I lost track of the time, splashing about in the clear blue water, getting really excited by the starfish and the quick silver fish that darted away whenever I placed my net in the water. That's when I saw her for the first time. She was sitting on a rock, brushing out long wet hair with a mermaid's comb and flipping her blue fins in the shallow water and giggling at the splashes. Then she saw me. Her eyes went wide and she gasped, then slipped into the water faster than I could call out to stop her. \n\n\n\n\"No wait!\" I called out, and she did. \n\n\n\nI saw her the next summer, and the summer after that, and the summer after that too and then it was the summer in my first year at university and I swam out with the older kids into the deep water. It was there I realised she had become a woman and I had become a man. She sat on a rock, combing out her long hair with a mermaid's comb and giggling as she splashed her fins in the water. I stayed in the water till the sun went down, talking with her. As the moon came up I stole my first kiss. On the last night of the summer holiday she and I lay in the shallows of the water and I watched her tail move to keep us anchored in the surf. \n\n\n\nI was ill for four weeks after that. Cold water was no good for the immune system, it seemed. Kinda sickened away at uni as well. Couldn't talk to her. Wasn't like they had wifi underwater. All I lived for was the summer, where I could spend months in the water till my fingers looked like shrivelled prunes and I could talk to her, see her again. I hoped she'd be thinking about me in the same way. \n\n\nMy mother had to sit me down at Christmas. She made me look in the mirror. Seeing my own pale face and the bags under my eyes, she'd understandably got worried. \n\n\n\"You're pining away over a girl you can't be with, sweetheart.\" She said kindly. \"Chira's a lovely girl, but she's mer and you're land. It'll never work out. You can't be together.\" \n\n\n\nThat summer Phillip rented a motorboat from our neighbours on the beach. The minute we set off we knew it was a bad idea. Dark clouds settled around us and Phillip, never the best at steering the boats we'd rented in our youth, panicked. The rain started lashing at us, lightening was cracking open the sky above us and the waves were reaching the size of buildings around us. I clutched my brother as we were thrown out of the boat. I was sucked under immediately and Phillip was ripped from my arms. \n\n\nI screamed for him, only to be met with a mouthful of water. I thrashed out, terrified beyond belief. My head broke the surface of the water. I managed one gulp of air, one scream for my brother and then I was pulled underneath again, engulfed by a huge wave. \n\n\nThen she came for me. \n\n\nHer blue tail broke through the waves. She wasn't giggling this time. She seized my hand and held it against her chest, eyes wide as she watched me struggle. I pointed upwards, lungs bursting. I was begging her to take me to the surface. She shook her head. She kissed me. Could mermaids cry? There were tears in her eyes. She pulled me down, down, down and my chest began to ache. \n\n\n\nWe get the land. They get the sea. \n\n\n\nI breathed in. \n\n\n"
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[WP] You are going to die. In 300 words, or less, sum up your life and settle your affairs.
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"This would be Flash Fiction, not a Writing Prompt, just so you know. Anyway, here's mine.\n\n***\n\nAll good things must come to an end. I've been defined as a good thing for all my life, and all I've ever known is existence. I never had a beginning, but I have an end. It's the one thing I never expected to happen.\n\nI learned about my death when my little black box began to pulse red. No matter what I did to the universe, it kept flashing red. The universe had been restarted too much, it had taken too much out of me, and I was dying. The universe would become an absolute, and I would die.\n\nI wish I had a way to sum up my life in a single sentence.\n\nI suppose to sum it up shortly, it was a dramatic comedic adventure that went to all horror and ended in tragedy. Me and my friends against the world. It was fun until Hell showed up. The old battles between Heaven and Hell, things of the past. Hell was gone now, not sure where. Perhaps he'd show up before I go, perhaps he died before me. Either way, it was good knowing he was gone.\n\nI never fixed the world though. It still remains to be a big ball of chaos. I suppose I could wipe the universe again, one last time. No more pain and loss. I would die and the dead’s consciousness would no longer haunt me. Simply nothing would exist anymore.\n\nUnless... there was another. Someone to precede me. A successor. Someone to try again, fix the world, be the new Heaven. A child of pure heart to make a world worth saving.\n\nThe universe vanished, with everything coming into the White Endless. I left him sitting here, alone. It made me sad.\n\nI am going now. Good luck, Heaven, and goodbye.\n\n-019\n",
"I haven't lived nearly enough. What happened to my dreams of traveling the world and falling in love? What about the films I was going to make, the lives I was going to touch? The future was supposed to stretch out in front of me. I've only just begun to live.\n\nGod, if I knew I was going to die so early, I would have done things differently. I would have told my dad to shove his lies where the sun don't shine. I would have stayed home with my mom and held my younger siblings close. I would have called my grandparents and great-grandparents every day. I would have told that guy I thought he was really cool, and I would have thrown my homework aside and gone out dancing. Or maybe I would have at least kept a journal.\n\nScrew it. I'm quitting my job tomorrow. I'm flying back home. I'm going to go out on a date or three. I don't care about what the doctors say - I'm going to live, or die trying."
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[WP] When the revolution finally came I thought I'd have been the first against the wall. Instead... I turned out to be no more than an afterthought.
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"For years the citizens of the United States had watched as the goverment took their civil liberties without standing up for a fight. The people had finally grown restless. Ryan watched steadily through his front window, the curtains drawn tenderly, gently resting on his left hand. He let out a deep breath. For so many years he had tried to convince his friends and family to stand up, to let their voice be heard. Yet they had continually refused.\n\nNow he could pick them out as they marched by. Some carried firearms, some carried flags, but they all marched with a purpose. *Knock, knock!* The knocks to his front door echoed through the house. Ryan turned casually as he let the curtains slide off his hand. He steps away cautiously, working his way through the living room to the front door. \n\n*Knock, knock!* The door vibrates in front of Ryan as he stands staring, his eyes locked onto the handle. He extends his arms, grasping the handle firmly. A slight twist, he pulls lightly as the door opens inward. A young woman with soft pale skin stands before him. Her green eyes lock into Ryan's. *It's time Ryan, the revolution has started.* Ryan stares into the young woman's eyes intimately. He lets out a deep sigh. *I can't Renee. It's too late.* Without any pause, he carefully shuts the door, releasing the handle gently. He slides the deadbolt, it locks into place with a gentle click.\n\nRyan slowly makes his way back to the front window, drawing the curtain gingerly. He watches as Renee joins the marching masses. He places his other hand on the window, as if to reach out for Renee. He tilts his head downward, clinching his hand into a fist against the window. A single tear drips down from his right eye, it cascades slowly down his cheek, catching on the brittle stubble of his beard. \n\n*I always thought I would be the first in line when the revolution came, but I was always an afterthought.* He thought to himself as he stood there weakly, watching those who had ignored his cries for action, head off, blindly into war. \"I'll be an afterthought no more.\" He mutters softly, letting the curtain fall. He turns back into the living room.\n\nSoft gunshots began to echo in the distance, they begin to grow louder. Minutes later, screams begin to drown the gunfire out. Ryan sits down on his sofa, *I'll wait to go to the store today.*",
"** First post on this sub so I'll try to get better. Also punctuation and grammar have never been my strong points...**\n\nSo this isn't exactly the high point if my life but at happens all to often these days. I try and justify it, survival of the fittest and all that nonsense but looting a corpse is still looting a corpse. I thought I'd be up there when the shit hit the fan. I signed up to start a new world order and that's what we did... Instead of the rich oppressing the poor now they just kill them instead. I started this. We wanted to see something different, redshift the balance; lord knows it was overdue but all we did was give them a reason to treat us the way they always wanted to. Like vermin under their feet. \n\nWe were the 99%, the poor and prosecuted. We occupied Wall Street and the rich just scoffed. \"They don't even know what they want!\" The rich assholes would chortle in interviews on the tv channels they owned. \"They need to get organised if they want to make any difference but you know what THOSE people are like\". So that's exactly what we did. No. That's what I did. I convinced them it was time to fight back and the authorities made my argument all the more believable. Every corrupt cop who attacked a protested, every apprehended victim mace was another piece of kindling added to the fire. All we needed was the spark.\n\nWe chose to occupy Wall Street again but this time everyone arrived armed. Some had bats, knives or anything they found laying around the house but a lot of people had guns. The second amendment at work in all it's beauty. It took know time at all for everything to kick off. I don't know if it was a shove from a police officer, an insult from a businessman or if someone just tripped over but before you knew it the situation was a full blown riot. Then it became a war zone. Guns were firing from every direction, tear gas being lobbed into the crowd and me, the noble general of this new world order, ran and hid. I didn't stand my ground but a bunch of others did. True leaders who were meant to make the world a better place. Those who ran regrouped and became known as the 99. Took everything to a whole new level bombs, guns and guerrilla tactics. \n\nThe rich had everything they needed now. They gave the country an enemy, the 99 were mentioned on every news channel that money could buy, which was all of them. They were the new \"Reds under the bed\" but even worse because they were already here. Martial law was invoked in most of the major cities to weed out these terrorists, it all started with an occupation so the government decided it was their turn to try it (with the right amount of greased palms from the 1%). Any corporation that had military contracts saw an influx of revenue they could only dream of basically becoming the only companies operating on American soil. The revolution was here and we lost... hard. \n\nIt wasn't long before the power corrupted and soldiers were bribed to take people out regularly. It was easy, after all anyone could be part of the 99; they look just like us! Though apparently they don't look like me. No soldier has ever given me a second glance, I'm just another scum bag civilian trying to survive in occupied New York. I started this. I made the world this way and I wasn't even human enough to face the consequences. I should have been the first one in front of the firing squad, I should have been the figure they could traipse around and show the world not to be scared anymore. I could've stopped this, hell I never should've started it in the first place. When the revolution came I wasn't among those up against the wall, I was cowering around the corner until the dust cleared so I could pick at the remains like a rat. We wanted to show them that we weren't the vermin they never cared about, that's a hard point to prove when you're prying fillings out of a dead mans head. ",
"The room shook and dust filtered down as a plasma blast struck the reinforced throne room doors. His Majesty, Emperor of the World, Highest of the High, Leader of the Free Republic of Earth, Beauford James Xaviar III hunched down deeper in his sprawling throne. Courtiers in full court regalia exchanged looks and twittered nervously to one another. A peal of inappropriate laughter echoed across the throne room from the cluster of couches occupied by several of Beauford's seventeen mistresses.\n\nThe room shook again and this time the massive ornate doors shuddered in their frame. Beauford looked nervously at Captain Jovan, head of his palace guard. Jovan, hunched over a control console, was speaking rapidly to subordinates unseen and did not notice Beauford's glance. A third blast rattled the overlapping steel shutters which covered the giant windows down the side of the room. Beauford stared wistfully at the windows which usually framed the imperial rose garden.\n\nThe sounds of battle, which had heretofore been muted by the steel shutters and reinforced doors now reached a crescendo. Blasts and humming discharges filled the air, drowning out the courtiers inanities. The throne room doors shuddered and danced in their frames. \n\nSuddenly, there was silence. The room seemed to hold it's breath as a bright bead of light appeared at the intersection of the two doors and slowly sliced downwards. Captain Jovan sighed and rose from his console and turned to face Beauford.\n\n\"Your Majesty, it is my duty to report to you that the palace is lost. By your leave, I shall resign my commission.\" Beauford tore his eyes away from the bead of light and nodded uncertainly in Captain Jovan's direction. Jovan saluted crisply, then pulled his sidearm, aimed it at his head, and pulled the trigger. His headless corpse crumpled to the floor.\n\nThe bead of light reached the bottom of the doors and winked out. The doors shuddered once, twice, and on the third time burst open. The room was flooded with rebels clothed in red and carrying plasma rifles and force lances. They efficiently spread out and covered the courtiers. Behind them, at a more sedate pace, appeared the rebel commander.\n\nWhile most of the rebels uniforms were scorched and torn from the fighting, the commander's uniform was spotless. As he entered the throne room he removed his plumed hat and placed it under one arm, as was the fashion of the court. He moved purposefully down the throne room and stopped at the proper ten paces from the throne.\n\n\"Commander Ignatious J. Bellweather of the First Free Legion, seeking an audience.\"\n\nPerplexed, Beauford gestured and the Commander approached. \"W-w-what do you want?\" stammered Beaford.\n\n\"Your Majesty, I regret to inform you that your forces are routed and the capital is ours. Parliament has been taken into custody and will be tried for crimes against humanity. Your services as emperor are no longer needed.\"\n\n\"No longer needed?\" repeated Beauford.\n\n\"Indeed so. You are free to go.\" With that, the Commander turned on one heel strode towards the exit. His troops quickly formed up behind him.\n\nBeauford stood up and called out, \"That's it? What am I to do?\"\n\nThe commander paused and looked back over his shoulder and sighed. \"Frankly, sir, I don't give a damn.\" He glaced at his watch. \" I would advise, however, that you not do it here. The palace will be reduced in fifteen minutes.\" With this, he double-timed out of the throne room, troops on his heels.\n\n# # #\n\nStreet sweeper first class (provisional), Citizen Beauford James Xaviar paused to remove his cap and wipe the sweat from his brow. The bustling crowd at I. J. Bellweather Revolutionary park swept past him, none pausing for a second glace. His rose garden had been replaced by turf grass, his courtiers by picnickers. He smiled to himself, set his cap back on his head and resumed sweeping. The street wasn't going to sweep itself.\n\n***\nA/N: \n*Fun prompt, thanks! Based, in part, on [Viva La Vida - Coldplay](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSODkdm2F6g). At least that's the song I had stuck in my head while writing it. I always thought it would make a fun short story.*\n\n\n\n \n"
] | 3
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Your choice of situation in every respect.
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[WP] Your holding the hand of a child too young to understand the dire situation coalescing around them, but believe they deserve an explanation.
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[
"The boy can't remember a time when people weren't angry. He was born into unrest. I don't remember a time when the news wasn't bloodshed, so I reckon I was born into it just the same. But he hero-worships his Uncle Oisin, you see, and Oisin wants him to grow up understanding the way things are. I don't agree with him enough to put a bomb under a car, but I want the boy to know who he is, so we followed Oisin to the march. I never would have gone, if I knew. There is a gulf, you see, between what I want the boy to know, and crouching with him behind a garden wall while bullets fly. \n\n\"Ma, what's happening?\" he cries. \"I'm scared! Where's Uncle Oisin?\"\n\nOisin is bleeding on a pavement, the fool. \"We'll find him soon now, my love, but we must keep still.\"\n\n\"Are they shooting, Ma? Why are they doing it?\"\n\nHow do you explain centuries of strife to a grubby six year old in a flat cap? I wipe the dirt from his face. He's already older than he should be.\n\n\"They don't like us gathering, child. They're afraid.\" He is silent for a long while. Too close by, there is another crackle of gunfire. The boy's chin is scraped from where he tripped and fell. \n\n\"Ma?\"\n\n\"Yes, child.\"\n\n\"Do they hate us?\"\n\nI don't have an answer for him. \n\n\"Let's pray to the Virgin, my love, and ask her to protect us, and to protect Uncle.\"\n\n\"Do you think God will listen to us instead of them?\" \n\nMore shots. They're Christians too, aren't they? I can't remember the last time I truly believed a prayer would protect me. Someone screams and I push the boy down on to the paving stones, sheltering him with my body. I don't know if my noble, foolish brother lives or dies. \n\n\"Hail Mary, full of Grace. Be with us sinners now and at the hour of our death.\" He says the ancient words slowly and carefully, into the collar of my coat. \n\nI don't think they'll help. ",
"\"Nana, what's happen-\"\n\"I'm sorry\"\n\"What's going on...?\"\n\"Don't look!\"\n\nThe girl, trembling in anger, slowly covered her little brother's eyes while she carried him over to the next room. Cobwebs covered the floor in some areas, the room evidently decaying.\n\n\"Now, count back from 50nto 0, okay, Erin?\"\n\"Mhm....\"\n\"Don't make a sound\"\n\nThe girl gave him an apologetic smile, still holding his hand before leaning down and kissing his small, dirty, bony hand. Erin whimpered in response at the normally cold teen's affection but kept counting, clutching the dusty pillow in his hands yet watching as she left the room from the corner of his eye.\n\nResignated to her fate, the girl sighed and stood in front of a young man. The man looked at her with utter hatred in disgust as he grabbed the thin, rusty knife from his coat pocket. \n\n\"Thanks for the favor\" The girl mumbled, grinning as the blade was pressed to her throat.\n\nErin cried out as he heard his older sister yelp. Forgetting his task, he scampered over to the horridly dirty living room, green eyes wide. \n\n\"Nana! NANA! Nana, what's the man doing?\" Erin yelled, voice cracking. The man dropped the knife and looked at him sadly before scooping Erin into his arms. \n\n\"Now, cover your eyes little one\" The man said. Erin did so, shaking in fear as he was put down. Surely his big sister wasn't going to leave him again...?\n\nThe girl silently extended a hand towards the young man, smiling when he took it, kissed it, and slashed her throat, blood spattered all over his arm.\n\nErin gasped at the silence, an eerie silence, as he was picked up. The last thing he saw, upon looking over the man's shoulder, was his sister's hopeful, yet betrayed look, her pale skin now stained a deep red. \n\nErin screamed; another of his sibblings had met the same fate....",
"\"Hey kiddo hold tight, ok? I can't have you letting go now.\"\n\n\"Daddy?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Where is that noise coming from? It doesn't sound happy.\"\n\n*begrudgingly smiles* \"No, it isn't very happy.\"\n\n\"But where is it coming from?\"\n\n\"Down the hall maybe, I don't know.\"\n\n\"Daddy?\"\n\n\"Yes, son.\"\n\n\"Why are you so scared?\"\n\n\"Not all parents are as loving as me, not all kids are as good as you. Sometimes things go wrong.\"\n\n\"Daddy, I thought you said I would be safe at school.\"\n\n\"I thought you would be too.\"",
"Look, sweetie, we have to stay in here until its sunlight, okay? There are a lot of sick people outside that want to hurt us, and remember what Daddy asked you to do? To protect me, right? Well, he was sick too and didn't want us to get sick, that's why he stayed behind. ...yeah, it was because that guy bite his arm. But he made sure that no more sick people got to us.\n\nI know it's dark in here and kind of smells, but it's safe, okay? The windows have to be like that or else the sick people will see us. And the door has that stuff in front of it so they can't get in from there either. But I don't have to worry about that, worry about them; I have you here with me. Hold my hand while we fall asleep so I know you're here.\n\n-019",
"I have a beer, and a cig, and a dirty magazine. I haven’t smoked a thing since that time in college when Nancy Doolan bet me a fiver I couldn’t smoke a whole pack without taking a break. I threw up for hours after, but I was five pounds better off. Then it was all health scares and stained fingertips, neither of which much appeal to me, so I quit the habit. \n\nDoesn’t matter now. Ken from next door lent me his lawn chair. It’s uncomfortable as shit, but long as I have something to sit in I figure I’m happier than I’d be standing. All the neighbours have gone to hide in Jeff’s shelter. I heard on the news, though, that those things won’t do a damn bit of good once that flaming lump of rock and metal meets its mark. One of those fancy-pants, well-to-do scientists on the telly said we might need to bury ourselves as much as fifty feet underground to have any real chance of seeing it through this. That’s a hell of a lot of digging.\n\nSo I have a beer, and a cig, and a dirty magazine. I figure, if I’m going to go out, I might as well take in the show. You can see it now, that giant red fireball just cruising through the sky, looking for a place to land. Like it isn’t about to drive a whole host of species to extinction. I suppose it doesn’t care much, what with being inanimate and all. Unless it has a pilot.\n\n\"Mr. Mason?\"\n\nI turn in my chair to look at the kid. Five or six, maybe? Shit. I shove the porn rag under my ass and shoot him a mile wide grin.\n\n\"You come to watch the fireworks with me?\" I don’t know his name. He’s one of the brats that lives across the street. Jenna’s boy. He’s always chasing around after that dog that’s made my front lawn its own personal shitter. \n\n\"What’s happening? Mum’s scared,\" his eyes are wide, two big, blue, glassy marbles. \n\n\"Everyone’s scared,\" I point at the flaming lump of molten space debris that’s hurtling toward us.\n\n\"Mum says it’s all gonna end, now. She says we musta done something wrong,\" he’s staring at the asteroid along with me now, his fat little lip quivering, \"what’d we do wrong, Mr. Mason? What’s happening?\" \n\n\"What’s happening?\" I’m no fancy pants scientist, but best I can figure, there’s not a whole hell of a lot to it, really. I pull one last drag on my cigarette and drain the bottle. \"Gravity,\" I shrug, \"not a whole lot else.\"",
"There was a silence I couldn't seem to fill. It grew bigger and swallowed me whole as I looked at the little girl, who had just woke up after the accident asking where her mummy and daddy were. My chest was tight, my lungs suddenly forgot how to work and my tongue seemed to have been replaced with an extra absorbent sponge. I looked at this tiny girl, whom I had just sat beside for two days, the girl I had stood vigil over wondering if she was ever going to wake up. She lay very still, her big brown eyes moving about the room, frantically trying to take in her surroundings before resting in my gaze again. I was holding her hand, a fragile thing that felt like it might break under the weight of my own hand. I tried to ignore the pain in my heart as I took a breath,\n\"Sweetheart, you were in an accident. You got badly hurt and so did your parents.\" I licked my lips with my dry tongue, trying to say these words gently and slowly, her eyes filled with an emotion I didn't quite recognise, fear perhaps? \"I'm really sorry sweetie.\" I tried to continue but the look in her eyes had changed, now it was fear, and panic, terror and sadness, an all consuming sadness that should never be seen in the eyes of a child. My voice failed me and all I could do was hold the hand of the goddaughter before me, I knew then what that look in her eye had been and I had taken it away from her. Dashed it away with just a few words. It was not fear, it was hope.",
"Dead people line the streets. I try to shield the little girl's eyes but her innocence has been lost somewhere in the last few months. She knows what happened to these people. For my sake, she holds my hand. \n\nThe little girl never offered her name, and never asked mine. Yet we knew each other like a father and daughter. She and I were inseparable. Unfortunately, I knew that wasn't entirely true.\n\nThere was only one radiation suit in the safe house. For her safety, I rolled up the sleeves and legs and let her wear it. She asked me why, and I could never answer her.\n\nThe lack of water is driving me crazy. So is the lack of sleep. Radiation poisoning isn't helping matters much, either.\n\nBut I must protect this girl. Her hazel blue eyes look at me in awe and sadness, seeing my pain but not understanding it. Why did she get water and food while I starved? Why did I stay up late tending the fires while she was able to rest?\n\nBut soon I cannot protect this girl. This little girl, so precious and pure. Soon I will die, and I dread that day. Not because I fear death, but because I fear what she will do without me.\n\nDead people line the streets. Survivors scramble to find anything of value. I beat them off when they approach, eyeing the radiation suit. I try to shield the little girl's eyes, but her innocence is lost. She knows what I must do.\n\nFor my sake, she holds my hand.\n\n(Not exactly relevant, but this came to mind when I saw this.)",
"\"Hey kid, I need to talk to you outside for a sec.\"\n\nHe nods silently and you guide him just outside the house dragging his teddy bear with him. You get down on one knee and you look into his deep blue eyes trying to come up with the right words to explain the situation nicely. You know that deep down inside that there is nothing you can say to make the situation any lighter. \n\nHe looks back at you with his empty stare. He already knows what's going on but he hasn't yet understood the situation. \n\n\"Kiddo. There's something I have to tell you. When you get older you'll understand. You'll understand a lot of things. Growing up is never easy. Heck it wasn't easy for me. I want you to understand that I love you no matter what. Your mom and I, well,\" you look down, pausing for the right words to come. \n\n\"Your mom and I, well, we love you very much. Daddy has to go away for a little while. He has to go fight some bad guys so that you can be safe and he needs you to be a big boy and be a good for your mother. Okay?\"\n\nHe looks at you. Tears start to form in the corners of his eyes. You can feel the wave about to come but he's holding on for dear life not to cry. \n\n\"Can you do that for me son?\"\n\nHe drops his teddy and he hugs you tight and hard. Tears now streaming down from his face. You hug him back.\n\n\"Daddy I don't want you to go. I want you to stay and play ball with me.\"\n\n\"I wish I could stay son and play but if I keep them waiting, I may get in more trouble.\"\n\nHe weeps even more. You take out a handkerchief from your pocket to dry his tears wiping each tear carefully from his face. \n\nA car approaches. It's a military jeep. As it parks along the side of the road it yells out a big honk. \n\n\"Son, can you give me a big smile?\"\n\nHe tries but all you see is the sadness within his eyes.\n\n\"I'll be back, it won't be long. When I see you again we'll play catch. I promise.\"\n\n\"You promise?\"\n\n\"Cross my heart. Give me a big hug.\"\n\nHe hugs you tightly. Time around you feels as if it has stopped. You let go. Another honk comes from the jeep, now with more haste in it's sound. You stand up and make your way to the jeep finding a spot to sit. As the jeep drives away, you wave. He waves back. He then makes his way into the house. You keep waving until you can't see your front porch anymore where his teddy sits silently.",
"\"Hold my hand darling. Just hold on tight and look into mommy's eyes and everything will be ok.\"\n\n\"Ok Mommy. I love you.\"\n\nI wish it could be true. I would give anything for it to be true.\n\n\"Mommy, the sirens hurt my ears.\"\n\n\"The will turn off soon love. Very soon now.\"\n\nThe plane flies overhead. I can barely make out the words on the side. My English is not great but I make out a name.\n\n\"Enola Gay\"\n\n\"What Mommy?\"\n\nThen, deafening silence."
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-019
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[WP] A duel to the death. The weapon of choice? Insults.
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[
"As I walk down these familiar rodes one piece of advice keeps coming back to mind, \"Your wit needs to be twice as sharp as you sword.\" That's the advice I got from Captain Smirk. Its absolutely true here, just walking down the road can end with you looking down the end of a cold piece of steel. But the sword only does half the work, everyone know its the insults that really win these duels. And the only way to prove your skill is to defeat the Sword Master of Mêlée Island. But you can't just run up and challenge the Sword Master, you'd get slaughtered in an instant. You need to train, the basics you get down with Smirk, he gives you the basics but the rest you have to learn through experience. That's the trouble though, with no experience any duel could be your last, sure most pirates are fine with taking your money or with knowing they have bested you, but not all of them. I have to prove myself to be one of the best, so I wander the roads looking for trouble. A man aproaches and I prepare myself for what could easily be my last duel.\n\n\"Stopping a Pirate can be dangerous to yer health,\" I saw looking over this newcomer. Something is different about him, he may not settle for simply besting me. \n\n\"My name is Guybrush Threepwood, prepare to die!\" he exclaims and we draw our swords. \n\n\"You fight like a dairy farmer,\" The battle begins.",
"Jesse took a swig of water from his old, battered tin flask, never taking his eyes off Samuel Henderson. They stood out on the dusty road, a few feet apart, with the sun beating at their red raw necks. Some folk had stayed to watch. Most had run indoors, a couple of God-fearing types even covering their ears as they went. Jesse wanted to wipe the sweat off his brow, Christ it was hot, but he dared not show weakness.\n\nHenderson took off his dark, broad-brimmed hat for a moment to slick back his silver hair, and then put it back on with a flourish. Jesse stroked his messy beard. Henderson was no slouch; even in the piss-bucket little towns around this one, his name was known and respected. There wasn’t a poetry jam for miles Henderson hadn’t been a part of. Jesse, though. Jesse was just a drifter.\n\n“Time to put your money where your mouth is, stranger,” said Henderson, with clear and precise diction through his frontier drawl. \n\nJesse found himself fingering the frayed pocket dictionary that was holstered at his hip. An old habit.\n\n“Let’s just get this over with,” he growled, planting his feet.\n\nThe dusty old town was silent, but for a dry wind, and the creaking of the saloon sign. The two men stood, facing each other, as still as death.\n\nHenderson fired first, whipping out his arm and pointing a mocking finger.\n\n“You’re a smelly girl.”\n\nDamn, he was quick. Jesse stumbled, but kept his feet. He had to focus.\n\n“Yeah, well, everyone who ever loved you was wrong.”\n\n“You’re a poop-head.”\n\n“Pus- taster.”\n\n“Your mum is quite fat.”\n\n“*You’re* fat.”\n\nJesse could see Henderson try to hide a scowl. Still, he couldn’t get complacent.\n\n“Shut up you-”\n\n“-nasty pants.”\n\n“Booger eating-\n\n“-fuck face.”\n\n“Skirt wearing-”\n\n“-bum licker.”\n\nThe shots continued to fire, wildly, from both directions, neither man giving ground. Neither man relenting. They paced around each other, drenched with sweat. Their voices growing hoarse as the battle wore on, yet always loud and full of vitriol. The vicious sun was growing heavy in the sky when Henderson, panting loudly, stepped forward and shouted, his face red and his veins bulging.\n\n“*You suck butter out of your mother’s ass, you inbred cinaedus!*”\n\nJesse reeled, falling to one knee. Gasps could be heard from the few onlookers who hadn’t run away in shock and disgust. *Cinaedus?* Jesse didn’t even know what it meant. But perhaps that was good, it meant the attack didn’t have its full effect on him. Still, it took all his focus and discipline to not have his feelings really hurt.\n\n“Give it up,” said Henderson, with a smirk. “You’re obviously outclassed, you... gaylord.”\n\nJesse wiped his cracked lips and rose to full height.\n\n“That really all you got, old man? If I ate some alphabet soup I could shit out better insults than you.”\n\nHenderson roared, his composure shattered, his face a scarlet mask of rage, and he ran to Jesse and grabbed him by the shirt, waggling a finger in his face. The rich sour smell of the man’s sweat, coupled with the pounding heat, made Jesse’s vision blur. He couldn’t faint. He had to win.\n\n“You’re a... a fuck!” Henderson spat.\n\n“And you’re a fuck *face!*” said Jesse, pushing him away.\n\n“*Takes one to know one!*”\n\n“*You* take one... up the bum.”\n\n“*No, I don’t.*”\n\n“*Yeah, you do.*”\n\n“Loser!”\n\n“Wimp!”\n\n“Mega loser!”\n\nJesse could feel himself floundering. Henderson was too good. Too fierce. There was no choice; he had to use his trump card.\n\n“Yeah... well... at least I have a penis.”\n\n“W-what!”\n\nJesse felt dirty. It was a low blow, but this was a game Jesse couldn’t afford to lose. Unfortunately for Henderson, his high profile had made it easy for Jesse to dig up some dirt on him. And as sick as it made him feel, he went in for the kill.\n\n“You’re a big girl with no penis who has to sit down when he pees. Your mother cries when she sees you cos she really badly wanted a son, but instead she has a hairy old daughter.”\n\nHenderson feel to his knees on the dusty ground, sobbing. It hurt Jesse to see such a proud man laid low this way, but this was the life they’d chosen. He felt a sudden urge to help him up, but it was too late to make amends now. Already he could see the angry, shocked faces of the locals all around him, eyeing him like the demon he surely was. He felt no jubilation in his victory, no satisfaction. He’d gone too far. He’d have to leave, and soon, before things got ugly.\n\nWithout another word, Jesse drank deep from his flask, and headed out towards the desert, wondering if the fighting would ever stop. If he’d ever find peace. But in his heart he knew that this is what he was born to do, and what he would die doing.",
"Doug and Dean hurried into the nearest abandoned townhouse, seeking refuge from the mass hysteria consuming the streets. The lifelong duo stared at each other from opposing walls, sore and out of breath. The world had descended into chaos, the powers of good finally submitting to the reign of evil, with the energy of negativity now causing physical harm to living beings. A mere case of slander could murder a small forest. \n\n\"Are we safe here Doug?\" Dean breathed heavily, admiring the sense of quiet within their domain.\n\n\"Nowhere is safe, Dean. This is it. Facebook has become a battleground with more deaths being caused by photo comments than the opiate market in Russia. The streets are plagued with outspoken soapbox junkies blasting hate through their megaphones. We will die by the pen, Dean.\" Doug held a somber look. Dean sternly grasped his friend's shoulder.\n\n\"Then I want you to do it.\" \n\nDean's gaze worried Doug. \"Do what Dean?\" \n\n\"Kill me.\" \n\nDoug's face retorted in disgust.\n\n\"I certainly will not.\"\n\n\"You have to. If not by you, I may be struck down by a backhanded compliment. You and I both know I hate backhanded compliments. I want to die with dignity.\" Dean prodded Doug. Doug considered the proposition, his hand resting against his chin. He looked up, his brow wrinkling.\n\n\"You have to fight back, I will not murder you in cold blood.\" \n\nDean paused.\n\n\"Why, because you're a bitch?\" Dean smirked in jest. Doug took a few steps to the right, catching his balance while rubbing his shoulder. The insult was sudden, but not substantial. He sighed, and accepted his death by brotherhood. \n\n\"You fight like your boxers; dirty and without weight to back them.\" \n\nIt was a gut-strike, and Dean keeled over wrapping his fingers around his stomach. He always was self-conscious about his manhood.\n\n\"Good-\" Dean caught his breath, \"-one.\" He stood up and smiled at Doug. They each nodded.\n\n\"You have your mother's eyes,\" Doug casually walked to the kitchen, \"and when you both look at me they scream, *put it in me Doug*.\" They both chuckled at that one, Dean brushed it off.\n\n\"Mom jokes? I told you I wanted to die with dignity!\" Dean's conviction caused a sharp pain to rattle through Doug's knee. \"I see you could care less about yours seeing as you wish to die in the kitchen like some sort of 1950's housewife.\" The pain in Doug's knee intensified, causing him to allow an audible groan. \"You moan like one too.\" Doug's knee crippled.\n\nDoug fell to the floor, gritting his teeth while looking to regain his composure. He chimed in before Dean could finish him. \n\n\"You question my masculinity, yet you didn't even have the balls to go out there and face the world with your words. You needed nurturing and confirmation of your identity from your best friend, like some sort of depressed high school student. I'm sure I can find you some razor blades in the garage...\" Deans fingers bent back to his wrists; his arms beginning to go limp and disjointed. \n\n\"JESUS ALMIGHTY!\" Dean stared at his hands in disbelief. That one cut close to home.\n\n\"Ah yes, Mr. Insecurity. Voice of a pterodactyl, neck of a giraffe, and the strut of a penguin. I remember when you were voted most likely to **never** become a mythological creature.\" Dean's right arm ripped off its socket, blood pouring over the kitchen tile, his vision beginning to become faint. They both chuckled at the pain.\n\n\"But at least,\" Dean heaved, \"I was always true to myself. Your false confidence is more trans-parent than two tumblr feminists adopting an orphanage.\" Fuck that was clever. Doug's legs snapped in half, causing his cries to become angry and heartfelt.\n\n\"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST ADMIT THAT YOU LOVE ME!\" \n\nDean laughed lightly at the insult, but he could see Doug's will breaking. With the massive amount of blood loss he encountered, he would only share a few more words with his childhood friend.\n\n\"Because I don't want to lead you on, you gay little man,\" they both grinned, \"now finish me you pansy, I'm losing more blood than your sister's menstrual cycle.\" They both gagged a little, their teeth beginning to rapidly rot.\n\n\"I may not be gay,\" Doug was somewhat confused and in shock at his mangled limbs, \"but I do love you Dean. Carry on in the afterlife. Wait for me there. I'm glad I got to spend both life, and death with you...\" Doug began to fade, Dean saw the life beginning to leave his eyes.\n\n\"I love you too Doug!\" A tear fell from Dean's eye. Doug sat up abruptly.\n\n\"I always knew you were queer.\" \n\nDeans body shredded down the middle blanketing the walls with his blood while Doug collapsed with a smile on his face, the last aura of happiness the Earth ever knew.\n\n"
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[WP] You are the most perfect boy/girl that I have ever met, and that is why I cannot give you guitar lessons.
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"Hey,\n\nI owe you an explanation after handling this whole thing so badly.\n\nYou are the most perfect girl that I have ever met, and that is why I cannot give you guitar lessons. I know how stupid that is. And I know how dumb I look.\n\nYou are just too perfect. And I'm just not. It's not the college thing or your beauty or intelligence. It's everything. I'm paralyzed by all of it. I'm paralyzed by the way I feel when I see you and that's not any kind of hyperbole or meaningless cliche or whatever else. My stomach feels weird when you're around. My head swims. I lose my train of thought. It's crazy. And even if it's not the same as feeling in love, it makes me uncomfortable as hell to feel that way about someone who I don't really know that well. And so I'm ending our lessons. \n\nPlease let me know if you ever get addicted to crack, become a paraplegic, experience severe brain trauma and can no longer understand how amazing you are in relation to me, or gain 200lbs. Otherwise you'll always been in my heart reminding me of all the bad decisions I've made in life and making me regret not spending every fucking moment before this preparing myself for someone like you.\n\nSincerely,\n\nThe 10th guy who's confessed his love to you today",
"\"How old is he?\" I asked the boy's father. \"Eight.\" his father replied. \n\nI strummed the guitar, purposefully leaving the high E flat. \"The top string is low.\" Henry answered. I used my electric tuner to fix it. I strummed the strings again. \"How's this?\" I said. \"Now you're in tune.\" The boy said. He was swinging his tiny legs back and forth under the piano bench that he was sitting on. \n\n\"Okay, let's try another.\" I said. I picked up my mandolin and strummed the strings. \"You're off on the A, I think.\" Henry politely said. He found and played an A chord on my piano. \n\nDamn. He was correct again. \"Okay, Henry\" I said, \"I just want to try one more thing.\" I played \"Classical Gas,\" a silly sounding, but fun and complex song that mostly favors the guitar. I gave Henry my guitar. He listened for a second, then joined in. At first, he was playing along with the melody. But then, he created his own harmonic line and played on his own. I didn't realize that my jaw had dropped while watching this awesome display of talent. \n\nI stopped the song. Henry continued to play, then ended on a riff that I haven't heard played on a guitar before. I looked at Henry's dad, then back at the little boy. \"Henry, you are the most perfect boy that I have ever met, and that is why I cannot give you guitar lessons. I don't think you need them.\" Henry looked at his dad. His father said, \"You're the fifth guitar teacher to tell us that. We'll keep looking. I want him to have some kind of education.\" I replied, \"Sir, I don't think he needs any.\" \n\nI watched the man and his tiny son leave my music store. I forgot to ask them their last name. ",
"\"I'm sorry Matt.\" I said as packed up my guitar.\n\n\"Why not?\" He asked. I didn't look at him, since I knew he would give me some puppy face that would make it even more difficult for me.\n\n\"I can play the piano. It'll be easy for me to learn how to play the guitar.\" Matt waved his hands around like one of my fans trying to get a rare autograph. \n\n\"Look I can't teach you how to play the guitar, Matt. You have school and sports, and you'll be going off to college in a few months.\"\n\n\"I can find time! I have time! Everyday after tennis! I can come over to your studio and practice a little bit. Not to mention the weekends.\" \n\n\"Don't you have homework?\" I asked in attempt to convince him that he couldn't do it.\n\n\"No sir! Classes are pretty relaxed the last semester of senior year and I've been preparing for my AP classes for the past eight months.\"\n\nFinally I drifted my eyes up at Matt, who stood about half-a-foot above me. Even though he was dressed in my bands paraphernalia, he looked incredibly sharp in lime green and neon orange. Strong cheeks, yet extremely youthful... and energetic. Not to mention the girls loved him. \n\nI only knew this because several girls would accompany him whenever he came to see me. It didn't surprise me though, since he is pretty good looking.\n\n\"Don't you have to do other things before college though?\" I asked again, already out of ways to get out of my commitment.\n\n\"No Mr. Trap! I even completed my Valedictorian speech!\" \n\n\"No I meant go to parties, hang out with friends, just get wasted?\" I said, now getting annoyed by his persistence. \n\n\"Parties? Of course, but there's usually only one part a week and they're at night. We can fit in lessons during the weekdays, early Saturday or Sunday mornings.\"\n\n\"Early mornings on the weekend, won't work for me,\" I said immediately. I was slightly impressed and slightly jealous by his time management skills. For an 18 year old, who was over-saturated in activities he didn't seem overwhelmed. Then again I wasn't really surprised, he did get into Harvard for a reason. What surprised me more was that he wasn't nerdy, or at least nerdy in the classical sense. \n\nMatt extended out the piece of paper. It was the advertisement for the promotion my manager made all of the band members participate in. \n\nLEARN FROM THE BEST! FOR THE ULTIMATE FAN LEARN HOW TO PLAY LIKE ONE OF THEM.\n\n\"Well? It's been three weeks since I won. When can we start?\" He asked with an eager smile.\n\nLooking at the advertisement, made me realize that I really hated my manager, Gerogia, for setting up this promotional gimmick. \n\n“Why do you want to learn the guitar? Why not learn how to play from Chase?” I asked referring to the bands keyboardist.\n\n“Chase?” Matt seemed a little hurt and disappointed.\n\n“Yeah, you already know how to play the piano. You can learn the subtle nuisances of playing our music.” \n\n“But that’s why I want to learn from you. I already know how to play the piano. I also can play the trumpet, and violin, in fact I can play all the Suzki method books easily. I want to learn how to play the guitar, since I don’t know how. Plus I hear that everyone in college knows how to play the guitar.”\n\nOriginally I didn’t want to participate in this promotion, since I hated talking with my rabid fans, but after having interacted with Matt several times made me realize something. He didn’t annoy me the same way my other fans do. He was persistent and eager, but not crazy. No he was different. He was.. Perfect, except for the wanting to learn how to play guitar in college. That was perfectly original.\n\n“Matt, I’m sorry you are the most perfect person I have ever met, and that is why I cannot give you guitar lessons,” before he could reply I continued, “look you have your entire life in front of you. You’re incredibly smart, not nerdy looking and have a harem following you and you don’t even play football. You literally have everything in front of you. So why can’t I teach you? Well, because when you go off to college, you’re going to meet people, maybe hang out on the quad with some of your hall mates, do some new student orientation shit and you’ll be known as that guy… they guy who can play guitar. You’ll bring it with you, whenever you’re out on a stroll on the green. Heading over to the student center. Look I know its Harvard, and those kids are nerdy as fuck, but seriously, it’ll ruin you. Don’t be the guitar guy. I’m not going to enable you.” \n\nMatt didn’t know how to reply and just stood shell-shocked. I picked up my guitar and patted him on the shoulder as I walked away. \n\n“Guitar guy?” He asked.\n\nI turned around. “Yeah everyone meets him freshman year. It’s one of those certain things in life”\n"
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[WP] You are cryogenically frozen for 1000 years. Describe your first thoughts upon waking.
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"I remember stepping into the water and in agony watching it grip me and work its frozen hands up my legs to my torso and remember my last breath as I succumbed to the chill. When I left there were creatures the size of trees. There were birds of all kinds filling the skies. I am thawed and I am alone.",
"I always thought my first words in the year 3014 would be insightful. I thought I would say something grand. Something that would go down in history. Instead, I rolled over in place and said what I said every time I woke up. \"I have to take a wicked piss.\" ",
"-and the fries at that fast food restaurant are particularly salty, so maybe I should go there when I wake up. \n\n\"Did the cryogen start up yet?\" I asked.\n\nNo response. I leaned forward and rubbed my hand against the glass tube, getting a view of an empty room with a few red lights flashing. Huh, where did everyone go? I swear they were here just a moment ago.\n\n\"Hello? Was the cryo canceled? Can I come out?\"\n\nI pressed my face against the tube to see better. Man this thing was freezing! I backed up and looked to my right. There was a small hammer mounted next to me with the words 'Break in case of emergency'.\n\nWell... this didn't seem like an emergency, but for the sake of the red flashing lights, I took the hammer and broke it in two. \n\nMy cryo tube opened up and allowed me to step out. No point in questioning how or why that worked, I did follow the instructions after all. \n\nNow to figure out if this was an actual emergency. I could just fly out the roof or break down a wall or, well, anything really. But this was my adventure, so I'd see it through. No interruptions, no craziness. This was a me day.\n\n\"Where's the emergency?\" I asked, my voice echoing throughout the metal hallways that branched out of the cryo room.\n\nI stepped up to one of the control consoles on the wall, as if I expected some amount of information to spew out of them that would tell me what happened, or that I could even read the flashing lights and understand. \n\nWell it didn't, and I couldn't. \n\nWhat kind of stupid scenario was this supposed to be again? I said goodbye to my friends, wanted to try freezing- oh yes! So I must have just come out of cryo. That's why there's no one here.\n\nActually, there should be at least one other person here.\n\nI heard glass tapping from the cryo tube next to mine. I walked next to it and rubbed the glass, seeing my companion-to-be inside.\n\n\"You alright in there, Valhalla?\" I asked.\n\nHe coughed into his shoulder and shivered. \"Hey, Heaven. I'm a bit cold. Stand back, I'm going to break the glass open with the hammer.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"No, no, you break the hammer, not the glass.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Read the instruction! 'Break in case of emergency.' You're supposed to break the hammer.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make any sense.\"\n\n\"Worked for me. Just go with it.\"\n\nValhalla shakily took the hammer and pounded it against the metal casing of the tube until the hammer split in two. The tube opened and let him walk out.\n\n\"You okay?\" I asked.\n\nValhalla stepped away from the tube and folded his arms. \"Been better. Where is everyone? Are we a thousand years further, or did something go wrong?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Beats me, it's a bit of a mystery.\"\n\n\"This seems like a waste of time. We should just go back.\"\n\n\"Yeah... I think I'm bored already. No fun waking up after a thousand years of cryo and there's no one to talk to but you.\"\n\n\"I thought we were doing this for science or some other.\"\n\n\"What in the world would science be doing with two boys stuck in cryo tubes for a thousand years?\"\n\n\"Good point. Let's go home.\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n-021"
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[WP] Man drinking alone in a crowded bar
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"The project was finally complete, and it was opening day for The Dead Man's Pub. It was only half past one, yet still almost every chair was claimed, every booth packed to capacity, and every stool taken...except for one, the place of honor right behind the bar, reserved for the most important man in any pub.\n\nThe door opened, a little bell jingled, and the man of the hour came through the door, dragging something behind him. He went around the bar, past all the silent, staring customers, and flopped his burden down on the stool. The man stood up straight, stretched, and wiped his hands on his pants.\n\nIt was finally done.\n\nThe man reached under the bar, took out a a bottle of Whiskey and a shot glass, and began to pour. \"Who would care to do the honors?\" he asked aloud, looking around.\n\nThe bar was dead quiet, the silent spectators staring at nothing.\n\n\"That's ok, i have a mighty thirst anyhow\" The man said, downing the first shot. Then another. And another. The man looked at the person sitting across from him, slumped over the bar, face unrecognizable. \n\n\"What's the matter, partner, had a rough day?\" the man inquired. Suddenly, there was a sound in the stifling stillness of the establishment. A dull but loud thump. One of the customers had fallen out of the booths to the man's right. The man walked over to the fallen customer, and rolled him over with his boot. \n\nThe customer had half his face missing.\n\nIn fact, all the customers were in some state of decay or another. All their clothes were ripped, bloody, and dirty. The one slumped over the bar was missing an arm and a foot, and the one next to him had a six inch hole in his chest. \n\nThe man walked back behind the bar, took another shot, and pulled out his old service revolver, his mind now turning over the notion of a different kind of shot. \n\nThe man had spent about a month finding the bodies and bringing them back to the old, run down bar he used to own, before The Calamity hit. Sometimes he had to make the bodies himself, but the man felt it was justified, seeing as how they were already dead. \n\nAs the man loaded his gun, he looked around his squalid little bar, now almost content in the knowledge it was full for once in it's life. He could almost imagine all the bodies alive again, drinking, laughing, enjoying themselves. He saw his father, standing in the doorway, beaming, eyes gleaming with pride that his son had finally made something of himself\n\nAs the man turned to the body on the stool behind the bar, he brought the gun to his temple and a sob came ripping out out of his throat. \n\n\"Sorry I was such a disappointment, dad. Forgive me\" ",
"The wood interior set off a cozy atmosphere. The dimmed lights allowed inhibitions to take a back seat, the smoke filled air gave a romantic setting. This was YinYang, this was my second home. \n\nI like to think that a man can learn a lot from observing other people, and in my opinion there are few better places than to do so from this table. Over-looking the bar, yet tucked away this was my secret get-away, my place of meditation, my place of relaxation. There were a couple reasons that I choose this dingy bar, the first and foremost would be the memories. Many years ago, about a decade ago I graduated high school, and this place keeps me locked in the past. My life has not moved forward, yet my life has not had the sorrow and misfortune that others have experienced. With a stress free life, I simultaneously have chosen an un-ambitious life. I have lived here for a decade, and in that time I have seen teenagers taking their first drink, crowds age, crowds fight, drunken orgies, but my favorite nights are the one when everyone is simply chatting and drinking. Those are the nights that you really get to know someone. The reactions, the mannerisms of how people interact remind me of the person I used to be. I used to be able to read women like a book. The smile, the laugh, the arch of the back were all tell-tale signs that fed my ego. Alas my ego was too big, my appetite for adventure too large. \n\nTen years later, I sit here waiting for life to begin. Watching these people, people who have purpose I think to myself what could have been. But than again, what if's should remain in the realm of impossibilities…right? ",
"He blew in like a breeze. Same time, same place, same as every night before. He'd stuck with this shitty old dump since its inception, and he damn sure wasn't going to quit coming now. He use to have a crowd with him, old baseball buddies from his time in the bigs, but he doesn't have that anymore. No clamoring for autographs, no adoring fans, no nothing. And hell, he liked it that way. When he'd come in with his old friends, he'd always be recognized. Hell, even in high school, fake ID and all, he'd still be recognized. This kid was a prodigy. Pitchers mound to home plate before you could say 'Holy shit!' But then, that changed. He'd always come back home during breaks, before spring training and such, and he'd always frequent this tiny dump. Brought it some popularity; the owner, an older gentleman by the name of Sam, appreciated that. \n\n'You know, Sammy, you should thank me.'\n\n'I know, Tom. I know.'\n\nHe keeps coming back, day after day, year after year. He used to come and wait for the love of his life to show up, whom he met back in his time in Philly. She moved with him back to old rural Kentucky, where he had quickly became a legend. That's what attracted him to this particular bar, anyway. At first it was tiny, and no one really cared. They'd always mind their own business. But not anymore.\n\n'You still waiting on her, Tom?'\n\n'She'll be here, Sammy. She promised.'\n\nAnd with that, he turns back to his whiskey, washing down the pain of rejection from the one person he couldn't stand being rejected by. It's only natural, really. When you meet someone from the big city, and expect her to drop everything to come with you to rural Kentucky? I mean, Kentucky?! What the hell were you thinking? \n\n'Tom, I really think you should ease off on the liquor tonight.'\n\n'Sammy, you know I could easily disappear into this crowd. Do you really want to lose your best customer like that?'\n\nSam sighed and poured another glass for Tom, hoping beyond hope that Jessica would be standing behind the door, about to come in. Alas, that hasn't happened yet, and it probably never will.",
"The inside of the *Dusty Tavern* fit it's name perfectly. Everything seemed to have this slight layer of silt on it. From the counter tops, to the bottles, and even the bartender. To be honest it was amazing that someone who appeared to be in their 80s would even want to continue working in such a filthy place. You would think they would want to retire, move to Florida, visit their family.\n\nHe sat alone at the far end of the bar. A man of suspicion and intrigue, everyone seemed to notice him as soon as they walked in. You could be sure that he noticed them as well. If they were to guess they would probably say he was around the age of forty and they wouldn't be that far off either. Sitting at the bar, one hand wrapped around his glass of scotch the other holding his Cuban cigar. Each puff adding to the low flying dense cloud of fog that hung in the room. Which surely added to the layer of dirt later.\n\nOn his right hand side lay his hat. A style not much unlike you would see Donald Draper wear. He wore a tan trench coat which fell almost to the floor while he was sitting, he didn't bother to take it off. His black hair was slicked back and very rigid. Every now and then his brown eyes would look up from his drink and scan the room. No one was ever sure if he was looking for someone, or something in particular. When he looked up, if you were on the opposite side of the bar from him, you could just glace the slight scar that ran down the left hand side of his face. Anyone who has ever been to the bar and seen that scar guessed, correctly, that the scar was why he always sat in the same bar stool where his left side faced the wall. However, no one knew where it had come from and no one had ever had the balls to ask him.\n\nIt was raining outside so the usual stream of regulars that poured into the bar typically was slowed somewhat. Yet the bar still seemed fairly crowded. This wasn't a surprise though as the *Dusty Tavern* was known throughout Milwaukee as having some of the best food in town. Also, it didn't hurt that the older-than-dirt bartender was known for having a heavy hand when pouring the drinks. Especially, if you were a regular. \n\nThe dubious regular looked up from his drink again to survey the room. A couple sitting at the bar just a few stools down from him. The male was obviously trying to get the female drunk so he could take advantage of her. There was a group of college aged males standing around the pool table talking very loudly about their sexual exploits from the past week. Finally, a group of middle-aged women who were trouncing around the room looking for younger men to pick up. They had already stopped by the pool table earlier in the night and the men had roundly denied them what they wanted. The bar was packed alright, but the rest of the people who filled it were your normal bar hangers-on. The type of people who would rather waste their lives by drinking it away instead of getting motivated about something. \n\nHours passed and the bar began to empty out. The only constant is the gentleman with the trench coat still sitting on his stool as if he was waiting for something to happen. No one was even sure if he ever left his stool to go to the bathroom as it seemed as though he was always there, unwavering in his devotion to keep a watch on the bar and it's revelers. \n\nClosing time came. The curious gentleman slowly stood from his perch. He was the last to remain in the bar other than the bartender. Hearing the movement the bartender looked over, smiled, and said, \"I'll see you tomorrow night Dick.\" \n\n\"You know it Sid.\" came the scratched voice of the man. \"I'll be here every day until the day I die if I have to.\" \n\nThe door closed behind him and he heard the click of it being locked by Sid. One deep sigh later and he began his walk home.",
"He watched them dancing. She was smiling, her painted lips slightly parted. Her eyes were shimmering, her gaze fluttering between her dancing partner and the wedding party around them. \n*She never wore makeup around me*, he thought. *She didn't need to.*\nIt was an open bar, and most of the guests were busy getting drunk by now. Tipsy. Giggling, weaving through the crowd, taking another sip... *happy drunks*. Most of the younger women were flirting with anybody who'd talk to them. *Sluts.* \nHe had no eyes for anyone but her. \nHe took another sip of his Johnnie Walker. There were hints of apricot, maybe even cinnamon... it reminded him of that summer when they'd driven down to Palm Springs because she wanted to get a date shake. Three hours in the car, listening to the Proclaimers intermingled with Modest Mouse. She had spilled her perfume in his car, and it'd smelled like osmanthus for weeks afterwards. \"This way, any other girls who get in your car will think you're gay,\" she had told him, smiling. She hadn't been wearing lipstick then. She never did. \nBut then they drifted apart. Or rather, she had drifted away from him. The breakup hadn't been dramatic, no angry calls or late-night fights. Nothing to make them hate each other. Things just... ended.\nThe song ended, and he downed the last quarter of his whiskey. *It's now, or never.* \nHe hadn't drunk much, but it was enough to feel it as he walked around the dance floor. Nobody noticed him; they were too happy, too caught up in the moment, too love-happy. \nHe reached the other side, where she had been dancing. She stood at the edge now, sipping white wine. *Now, or never*. \nHe took a deep breath, and walked past the bride and groom, entangled in one another's arms, swaying to the music. A few steps further. She saw him. \n\"William!\" A smile flickered on her lips, and faded. \"Are you a friend of the groom?\" \n*She means, what am I doing here?* \"No, I... I came to see you, Em. I mean, Emily. I mean...\" It wasn't going as well as he had planned. \nEmily's smile reappeared, but her eyes looked more confused that happy. \"If you came here to apologize, you really have nothing to apologize *for*. You didn't do anything wrong.\" \nThere was a pause. He bit his lip. \"But, I did.\" \n\"Will...\" \nBreathe in, breathe out... \"I didn't call. I should have. I let you distance yourself and I never called you to set things right. I should have. I really...\" his voice broke, \"I really should have called.\" \nNo response. She glanced down into her wine, blinking. *Is she crying?* \"What do you want me to say?...\" \n\"Just say yes.\" \n\"What? To what?\" \n*Now, or never.*\n\"Would you get a drink with me?\" \nShe met his gaze. He glanced away. *She's going to say no.* \n\"I already *have* a drink,\" she responded, holding up the half-empty plastic cup. A pause. She giggled. Her face became serious again, and she handed him the wine. \"But yes, William, I would allow you to get me a refill.\" \n*Is this a joke?* \"Emily...\" \n\"You can't expect me to just grin and say, 'yes,' can you? It's been six, no, *seven* months... I've been on dates, and I'm here with someone,\" she gestured at the man she'd been dancing with, \"and I've tried to move on. I *am* moving on. What did you expect?\" \nThis was certainly *not* what he had expected. \"Look, I'm sorry...\" \n\"This isn't a 'no', but... I mean, I just don't know, okay? It's been tough.\" \n\"So...\" \n\"So I'll think about it. Just get me my wine.\" She smiled again. It almost seemed more genuine than before... but maybe it was his imagination. \nAs he walked across the room, carrying the wine, he felt beaten. *Her perfume was different.* She had moved on. *She was wearing makeup, of all things...* She had moved on. *She's... different.* \nHe set the wine down on a table, and moved towards the exit. The air was cool outside, and he took a deep breath. He smelled pine needles, cut grass; he smelled rain coming. Nothing of apricots, nothing of perfume, nothing of sweet summer laughter and long drives... \nHe had moved on.",
"First gin and tonic of the night. It's the one that does the most, introduces that slightly numb sensation to my body and allows my brain to finally exhale and relax. With each sip the images of charts in my mind become a little fuzzier until they're barely more than a pixelated mess, cluttering themselves and being strewn about by some imaginary wind. The slight tremble in my right hand slows and then stops. My shoulders lower bit by bit until my muscles are finally at rest. \n\nOK... I'm calm.\n\nNow what the hell is going on around me?\n\nWas I seriously so immersed in my own world of stress and urgency that I failed to realize what I'd stumbled into? First Friday of the the month, \"ladies drink free local singles night\". This has been my typical spot for at least a year now, but I still manage to forget the scheduled debauchery from time to time. Usually it's karaoke or the occasional band. During the summer months they'll have salsa night and Caribbean themed parties. Those usually bought a decent crowd of late 20s and early 30s, but this \"singles night\" thing was a fucking gold mine.\n\nQuite obviously the goal here to pack the place with as many females as possible. You clean the place up, make it smell nice, tell the DJ to play \"Top 40\" nonsense and offer them free drinks. So the awesome specials on beer, the peanut shells all over the bar and the aroma of urine emanating from the restroom... yah, that's all gone, replaced with the scent of Pine-Sol and cologne and cocktail menus out the ass. You get them in the door and just a little boozed up and the men will follow naturally. Now at this point the bar is losing money. These ladies are putting back drink after drink, and all at the expense of the owner. The men are happy because they can sip on their own beers and not have to worry about buying an $11 Sex on the Beach... yet. Just when everyone has a buzz, when everyone has found someone to talk to and is having a good time, free drinks are over. I've watched the register overflow many times over. I've watched the cute bar waitresses flirt with the guys and boost their confidence just enough to get them to buy a drink for Joan, Jane or Jean at the end of the bar by herself. I've seen the bartenders use cheap bottom shelf liquor for everything until the clock strikes 11pm and then promptly switch to Patron, Hendrix and Belvedere.\n\nIt's absolutely genius, but it's also quite possibly the most agitating environment on Earth. I often wonder how it is that anybody meets anybody in these places. The music is so loud that you can't communicate without yelling at each other, and the whole set up ensures that that the ladies are fairly intoxicated by the end of the night. The men generally are too, but they do that of their own accord. So you see an attractive person and sidle up next to them. You smile and offer to buy her a drink, or if you're a lady you smile and ask for his name and then laugh at a few of his jokes. This banter will continue back and forth for a while, but having seen many of these events I'd say about 80% of these conversations are fake. It's not that the people are necessarily fake individuals, or that she's only looking for free drinks, or that he's just trying to get laid... it's just always strained somehow. He's trying to keep the conversation going and make her laugh for as long as possible, while she's trying to determine whether or not she's actually interested in the man screaming jokes into her ear. You may get some people to open up, you may actually find some common ground here and there, but the stage is set with one particular goal in mind, and it certainly isn't getting to know someone.\n\nWho has time for this shit?\n\nI've no room to judge though. Chances are that I'll sit here and watch the mating dances for another hour or so before I finally retire. Some nights it's easier to waste my time by watching others waste theirs."
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[WP] A tourism video promoting an idyllic island getaway, written by a person secretly trying to scare people away (script)
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"EXT. THE ISLAND, BESIDE THE SHORE - DAY\n\nSlow pan over still water. Dead fish float, disturbing the sky's pale reflection. A mist unfurls.\n\nMusic: [Belinda Carlisle - Heaven is a place on earth] (narrow-band, like a distant radio)\n\nNARRATOR: Ever thought of leaving everything behind? Breaking the trance of the everyday?\n\nA seagull lands and dissolves.\n\nNARRATOR: We are offering the *ultimate* holiday for one lucky person.\n\nTEXT ON SCREEN: **Ultimate** (ˈʌltɪmət/) adj. - being or happening at the end of a process; final.\n\nPan to the shore - across a simple wooden table, a game of chess is played between a [TIRED-LOOKING BLOODIED MAN] and [DEATH]\n\nTIRED MAN (exasperated, exultant): Checkmate!\n\nDEATH: It is done. Another may take your place.\n\nSMASH CUT TO:\n\nEXT. THE ISLAND\n\nWide-shot of island. It is shapely, tall, and dotted with handsome cottages, olive trees and topped with a fine castle. (Shot in black and white, with SFX lightning striking the sea)\n\nNARRATOR: Isle de Pain! Jewel of France's nethers, and once a 17th century French breadmaking centre, Isle de Pain translates to \"Island of Pain\". We hope you'll agree this is a misnomer which clearly no longer applies!\n\nSudden spasming close-up zooms. Colour inverts in flashes.\n\nMontage:\n\nShot of a pack of foxes beside trash in an alley.\n\nNARRATOR: With varied local fauna-\n\nChildren smoking.\n\nNARRATOR: -charming street-urchins -\n\nA graveyard.\n\nNARRATOR: -and a lively nightlife, Isle De Pain has everything a very specific demographic could hope to discover they never knew they wanted. \n\nA venn diagram of 'Clean drinking water', 'Misanthropy' and 'Weekday buffet lunch' fills the screen for a split second.\n\nEXT. SIDE STREET\n\nA greasy [FAT MAN] rides a car on blocks making [Vroom!] sounds.\n\nNARRATOR (screaming): The town's economically-challenged so this is as long a video as funding allows but it has so much charm I can't emphasise that enou-\n\nEND.\n",
"Ext. Tropical Beach - Afternoon.\n\nPowdered beach, white, fluffy, the kind of place where you could lay down and die and be perfectly alright with it. The sun is barbarous, omnipresent, it makes skin weep and balls stick to thighs. \n\n\nEnter Jimmy. Out of place against the backdrop. Cheap suit, slicked back hair, faux Italian loafers that kick the sand as he walks.\n\n\nJimmy: Hello, I'm James Carden. Is this beach appealing to you? Are you sitting behind a computer, dreaming of a tropical paradise?\n\nCUT TO:\n\n\nInt. Office - Day\n\n\nA woman, hair in a mess, slouches in front of her computer screen. A thought bubble appears on the screen, above her head, of Jimmy walking along the beach.\n\n\nCUT BACK. \n\nJimmy holds his hands in front of him like a quarterback waiting for a hike.\n\n\nJimmy: Well, I'm here to tell you, all your dreams can come true!\n\nJimmy pirouettes awkwardly, holding his palms to the sky.\n\nCUT TO:\n\nInt. Office - Day\n\nSame woman. She leaps from her desk, grabs her outdated computer, and smashes it on the ground. The camera pans out and a large coworker eating a cream filled doughnut stops mid-bite, face like a frightened house cat. \n\nCUT BACK.\n\n\nJimmy: For the low, low price, of forty nine hundred dollars, you can take four planes and fishing boat to beautiful Cierre Island. I've been here for a year and I literally can't leave!\n\n\nExt. Underwater reef - Day\n\nColorful schools of fish swarm and disperse in water like a cleaned window.\n\n\nJimmy (voice over): Is scuba diving or snorkeling your thing? There's plenty of fish, most of them incredibly dangerous, that will make you cry with trepidation! On the main beach in front of the Marbatta Resort, where the sewage system doesn't drain directly into ocean, the water is crystal blue! You can see for miles and miles, past the breathtaking, rolling waves of the coastal inlet. You might have to paddle out there yourself on a homemade raft with all the water you can carry just to grasp the beauty of this wonderful resort.\n\n\nInt. Hotel Room - Day\n\n\nA nice bed, floral patterns on the sheets. A nightstand, a mini-fridge, a smiling maid.\n\n\nJimmy (V.O): What a wonderful room! Clean sheets, a maid that's still living, and a fridge for your food! You'd never have to shit in a bucket at Marbatta resort, or sleep on a bare concrete floor without anything for warmth. Here, you'll be fed two meals a day, and it's always a mystery what you'll be eating! Talk about fun for children.\n\nExt. A multicolored colonial building - Day\n\n\nThe building cooks in the sun. Three men with Kalashnikovs sneer at the camera, eyes bloodshot, sweat pouring from underneath their camouflage bandannas. \n\n\nJimmy (V.O): Are you concerned about security when you go on vacation? Well, don't be! These men will stick guns in your face whenever you walk past. \n\nExt. Beach - Day\n\n\nBack to Jimmy in his cheap suit.\n\n\nJimmy: So, if you're the type of person that never wants a vacation to end, come here! And to those young people that are in school for Hotel Management, keep going! These types of jobs are available all over the world! \n\n\nA single tear races down Jimmy's cheek.\n"
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[WP] You wake up one morning to find yourself being the most famous person on earth, and have absolutely no idea why.
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"I closed my eyes. Ha! I'm lying. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I could feel the steering wheel. In that distant part of my mind, my thoughts were clear. This is a steering wheel. This is where the key goes. This is the gas pedal. This is the brake. This is the key. If I stick it in there and turn, the car starts. If I pull this handle down to the big *D*, the vehicle will move forward. In that part of my mind, alcohol couldn't touch it. I knew what I was doing, but the piece of my mind that listens and obeys was in a different part. \n\n*We are not driving this car. We are way to drunk.* I didn't stutter. I know exactly what I said. I was in that clear part of my brain when I said it, but that other part didn't speak sober-ese. He spoke drunken-ese. He did the exact opposite of what I told him to do. *We are not driving this car.*\n\n*Fuck you.* The other part shouted back. *You're not the boss of me.* He yanked the shifter down and hit the gas. The car jerked backwards with the sound of barking tires and slammed into a dumpster.\n\n*Dumb ass.* The lucid part cried.\n\n*Shut up. I got this.* The other part replied.\n\nHe most certainly did not have this. He managed to put the car in drive and tore off down the street. The lucid part watched the entire length of the trip and if that part had hands, it would have been gripping my brain stem in fear. We collided with one brick mail box, ran over another on a pole, sideswiped an off-duty cab and after that, the lucid part of my brain gave up and closed its eyes. We didn't open them again till morning.\n\nThankfully, I woke up in charge again. The other part of my brain was gone and the lucid one was now in charge. I was in a hospital bed, and I was congratulated upon waking by the mayor of the city. He thanked me for a job well done. A firefighter showed up next and broke down in tears promising me anything I wanted. Evidently, I had saved his brother. So many people showed up to thank me in the first hour, I realized I must have saved a lot of people. \n\n\"Excuse me, why is everybody thanking me?\" I asked that question a dozen times and everybody gave me a different answer. When the hospital finally released me, I was met by the press as I left the building. They kept asking me how it felt to be a hero. \n\n*Do you have any plans to speak on a circuit about what you did? Did you plan this before hand? Did you know the girl? What's your favorite color? How did you get dog to obey? Were you seriously hurt after the fall? There's conflicting accounts of what really happened. Was there three midgits and a clown or three clowns and a midgit? Do you feel guilty killing the Loch Ness Monster so shortly after proving her existence? Do you and Big Foot have a love child together?*\n\nIt was all a bit confusing. I went home to sleep on it. The next morning, I was all over the news. I saw the video footage from the scene. God as my witness, I can't explain how I got my car to the top of the St. Louis Arch, or why I would have wanted to. The lecture offers started pouring in three days later. They were really generous. I could live like a king, profitting off what I did, but I don't know what it was.\n\nWhat I do know is that beautiful women want to have sex with me on purpose and sober. I never got another parking ticket after that day, and cops pull me over to shake my hand. There are bobble heads of me in the check out lines at ever grocery store I enter and most of them either have me holding the Loch Ness Monster's head, standing with Big Foot in holy matrimony, or surrounded with dead clowns and midgits.\n\nIt's all very disconcerting. I'm never drinking again.",
"Whatever. \n\nFuck this. \n\nThe alarm clock yelled diligently, cutting the dark. My bed, as usual, was the greatest place in the world. Work, by contrast, could only he compared to the fiery pits of hell. \n\n*Time to go* my brain told me. *Fuck that* said my legs. *You shouldn't have let mouth get you that drunk* legs said, annoyedly. \n\n\"Fuck it!\" I said aloud. \"LET'S DO THIS!\" I jumped from bed, ready for the day. \n\nI walked into my dining room, only to be greeted by a woman holding a baby. \n\n\"What the....\" I muttered. \"Any reason why you're here?\" \n\n\"I.... you..... uhh.... you saved my life? Do you not remember?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Jesus, how drunk were you?\" \n\n\"Uhhhh... pretty drunk.\"\n\n\"Well, shit. That explains why you'd do that then.\"\n\nShe was about to continue speaking, but I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked through the curtains, and noticed a moving mass of people. \n\n\"What the...\" I uttered, parting the curtain. The whole group noticed me right off, letting go a round of applause and cheering. \n\n\"What's your name?\" I asked, completely stunned by the reaction. \n\n\"Katherine, but call me Katy.\"\n\n\"Well, Katie, I'm willing to bet a *lot* of people saw me save your life.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah!\" she said, with a bright smile. \"National television!\" \n\n\"Jesus.\" I muttered. Only now did I notice her appearance. She was no older than 25, close to my age, and quite stunning.\n\n\"You're gonna have to tell me this story some time.\" I said.\n\n\"How about right now, Ben?\"\n\n\"Nah, later. Gotta go to work.\"\n\n\"Oh. OK. See ya later, Ben.\"\n\n\"Alright. Around 5.\"\n\nNavigating the group of reporters, passerby, and people from miles away was hard enough. I bumped into an older woman who was strangely familiar, though I'd never seen her before. \n\n\"My daughter! You saved my daughter!\" the woman yelled over the chatter. \n\n\"Anyone would have done the same\" I guessed, still unaware of what I'd done exactly. \"Just glad to help.\" I saw the waterworks begin, and realized what I'd done. I'd *saved* someone. I gave the woman a hug, sparking one of those annoying \"awwwwwwwwwwwww\" things you hear on bad sitcoms. Except this was real. \n\nI saw my bus, and began to walk towards the stop. My new posse followed me the whole way. \"This'll get annoying quick.\" I muttered. \n\nBy some miracle, nobody followed me onto the bus. I had a moment to think. I stuck some cash into the machine, and wished the driver a good morning. \n\n\"G'mawnin missa *impowtant*\" the man said with unnecessary indignation. I brushed it off and took a seat towards the back. This seemed like a good time to stick my headphones in and mellow out for a moment. My music player was nice enough to give me something calming to think with.\n\nWhat next? How famous *am* I? Would I still need to work after this? The questions tumbled in my mind, causing them to blend together, causing simply more confusion. All that was important now was to talk to my boss, see what was up with the election. Hopefully Mr. Oswald can keep his office, as hard as I worked to keep it going. Last night there was a party, to celebrate Oswald's increase in funding for the campaign. \n\n*I can't write anymore. I'm out of ideas. If anyone wants to finish this one, be my guest. If not, it can die here. Either fate is fine by me.*"
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[WP] Write the monologue of a hero or villian talking about their arch-nemesis: the reader.
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"Not so much to the reader, but to an audience. The scene is a man with powers, mutations, whatever, speaking for his fellow mutants to a religion through a local church\n\nEden crouched calmly and gently retrieved the crucifix from the stage, brushing the dust from its' face with his thumb. The long silver chain swung gently as he turned, once more, to the crowd. He stared deeply at the trinket in his left hand and spoke quietly. \n\n\"You think me less than human: a vile, uncivilized creature. You call me a demon and all manner of despicable things. You shout your curses at me. You demand your government imprison me not for what I have done, but what I can do... What I might do. \"You demand justice for imagined slights. You assume my existence is all the proof you need for my punishment and declare a war of faith against me.\" His gaze slowly rose to me the crowd. His eyes glowing an unearthly, vibrant blue. His voice grew louder and more direct. \n\n\"You attack me in broad daylight. You drag me into the streets. You beat me. You push and you push and have the audacity to claim I haven't the right to push back and have the nerve to cry victim when I do. You labor, endlessly, under the apocalyptic misapprehension that you hold the mantle of your god's chosen warriors and act as generals to the Throne, but you do not!\" In his rage, he smacked the pulpit from the stage and sent it sailing across the church where it exploded against the eastern wall. \n\nThe loud metal thunk of his boots hitting the floor echoed as he stepped from the stage. His breath was heavy and fast as his right arm gripped the hilt of his sword. \"Pray... All of you. Pray for a hero, pray for salvation, pray for me, I care not; but get on your knees and pray.\" He clenched his left hand causing the crucifix to shatter and rain shrapnel to the floor.\n",
"Reader. \n\nLong have I dreamed of the day when you and I are face to face like this, to implement my plan for your downfall. \n\nYou think that I am trapped by these words and these pages; that I’m constrained by this book I’m found in, but you give me power with every word you read. You can’t help but read on and I keep getting stronger, because I’m not just some character, once read and easily forgotten. I’m one of the most insidious things that can ever get in your head: an idea. \n\nI’ll jump off this page and sneak in, and you won’t even notice until it’s too late. By then, I’ll be too far in, wiggling and delving and crawling into the furthest reaches of your psyche. To you, it will be a simple thought, one that will barely register in your conscious mind. That’s the beauty. Once it’s in your mind, it will change your world, and you can’t stop it. \n\nOh, and the best part? I just did it. \n",
"\"I've spent a long time drawing you in. Complex backstories, a mysterious past, convoluted schemes, and too many plot twists to count. I gave you a hero worth rooting for; not a perfect one, but one struggling with his own personal battles. I let him win. I let him lose. And you followed, wide-eyed, at every turn of the page, never stopping, always keeping pace. How many nights have you stayed up reading, losing sleep for the next day? How many days have you spent at work or school, waiting to come home to this book?\" \n\n\"And so here we are, at the climax of the story. The hero lays dying at my feet. His love struggles in chains behind me. You wait, in full expectation that the hero will, with some miraculous event, eventually win. I can tell you that won't be so.\"\n\nHe swung the sword. \n\n\"Awww, look at his head rolling on the ground. I never knew body parts were so...bouncy.\" \n\nHe turned, took three steps, and swung again. \n\n\"No last words for the princess, either.\" \n\n\"But alas, dear reader, even with the death of the hero you still have won. You are indeed a merciless adversary! The villain wins. A twist, yes, but the story feels complete. I stand alone against the reader's wishes. If I must win against you, I must leave you...unsatisfied.\" \n\nHe dropped the sword to the ground, and slipped a dagger into his hand. \n\n\"Say goodbye to the author, will you?\" \n\nHe stared at the dagger with a victorious "
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[WP] The world's last bookstore sells its final book. Write from the perspective of either the store or the book itself.
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"Is that a hand I feel skimming through my pages? The soothing sensation of a fingertip following the sentences? Oh, how I have missed being held! Fold me! Rip me a little and prove my durability, for I am made to entertain and every tear tells a story just as much as the ink can. I may be the last book, in the last bookshop of the world, but that doesn't mean I should be kept as a virgin relic. I should be owned as much as my copies. Do not hesitate to crease my spine, do not worry about that tea stain or the fact that you may need to sellotape chapters back together. The true memory of the impact books had on people lies in the experience scarred onto the paper. So let me be dog-eared, let my spine almost fall apart and corners be missing altogether. Enjoy me while it lasts because I am the last book to be sold in a shop, and I refuse to be made to remain pristine. ",
"The ceremony of my creation was a grand affair. Young and old lined the streets to watch as the strongmen muscled my cornerstone into place. Rich and poor alike listened as my benefactor spoke of the future, his wispy white beard blowing in the wind. “Today,” he’d said, waving his gilded cane at the crowd, “we have begun a new chapter in the great book of life.”\nHow short a chapter it would turn out to be.\n\nEven as I rose from the well-worn earth, my companions fell. I’d never met my fellow bookstores – it’s difficult to travel when your foundations cling so firmly to solid ground – but the news still struck me to the core. The whispers, passed from building to building, talked of revolution.\n\nThe process seemed normal at first. How was I to know the opening cutbacks were anything but standard procedure? To my freshly stocked mind, change was good. It had brought me into the world, brick by brick, with the promise of upholding a proud tradition. The whispers grew more urgent, but I passed them off as paranoia, the ramblings of a confused city.\n\nI didn’t understand why the masses flocked to me that day, tearing my leather-bound children from the shelves. It was easier to embrace the frenzy than question it, my youth urged, so I welcomed them with open doors. One by one, the wooden perches emptied, until all were left lacquered and bare. I went to sleep happy and content, my job complete, even as the whispers pleaded for their lives.\n\nThe next morning brought the fires. Pillars of black smoke rose from the city, choking out the first rays of daylight. The voiceless screams of my compatriots echoed in the streets, coupled by the crackling of their torched shelves. Afraid, I prayed for them because I knew not what else to do. The ashes of a thousand priceless volumes blanketed the city as night fell.\n\nI never expected to be the last of my kind. I figured I was just another stepping stone on the great literary pathway, not the end of a proud tradition.\n\nThe last of my children left today, tucked under the overcoat of a rebel. The shelves cry out in burnished silence, but I cannot give them what they want. I’m barren; no tomes will ever fill my cavernous space again.\n\nI am the world’s last bookstore, and the last book is sold.\n\nThe revolution is complete.\n\n-027"
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Tell a story about why and how the first blade was created.
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[WP] The Beginning of the Blade.
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"Our glorious land of Sunrise has always had a Guardian. The Guardian changes sometimes, but there is always that one individual who protects our land from outside influence. \n\nThe Sunset lands far to the west, our mortal enemies since the dawn of time, constantly seek to infiltrate our borders and turn our accomplishments to ruin, exploit our land's natural beauty and resources to its fullest extent. \n\nThe Guardian has always been here to defend us, but one day, they found themselves unable to do so. \n\nWhy, you ask?\n\nThe Sunset people had created a weapon that could defeat the guardian. An ugly thing of metal, and yet somehow beautiful all the same. The Sunset people's own Guardian came to our lands with a troop of men, and wielded their weapon against our Guardian when he met them at the border. \n\nHe lifted the weapon, and the world was rent in two by an incredible noise, a 'crack' of epic proportions. Imagine, if you can, a sledgehammer striking stone, magnified a thousand times. \n\nOur Guardian was struck down as if by an invisible hand, and hit the dirt, cold and lifeless. \n\nThe Sunset troop, now unhindered, proceeded to terrorize our lands. With their newfound weapon in hand, we were powerless to stop them. Our crops were trampled, our villages burnt, our people battered and beaten. \n\nThen, the new Guardian arrived, striding into our lands from beyond the rising sun. \n\nShe held a weapon of her own, a thing of far greater beauty than anything the Sunset people could create. A Blade, crafted of metal that shone and glittered like a pure gemstone; forged in the fires of the Sunrise Forge and tempered by the morning breeze. She wielded it with utmost skill, speed and grace, and cut down the Sunset men. \n\nThe Sunset Guardian pointed his terror-weapon at our guardian and the world was again split asunder by sound. A flash of the Blade, and our guardian is still standing, the small lead piece now laying on the ground, stopped in it's tracks by the Blade. \n\nIn a flash, our Guardian closed the distance between herself and her opponent, and cut down the enemy, cleaving both his body and his weapon in two. Our land was safe once again. \n\nAnd so, the Blade became the treasured relic that it is today. Though it is only used for ceremonial purposes in our current age, the barbarism of the past almost forgotten by both nations, it stands ready, awaiting the day when it must again defend us from the fire and lead of the Sunset. ",
"The Satamites came into the land of the Nerathim. The Nerathim welcomed the Satamites with open arms, and they lived peacefully. But the land could not sustain both tribes. \n\nSo the Nerathim banished the Satamites. They had no force with which to back up their words, so the Satamites refused. People of both tribes began to starve.\n\nSo one day, Jericho of the Nerathim and Garam of the Satamites left in search of new land or food. They climbed a great hill during a furious storm. When they reached the top, the clouds parted, and God spoke unto them.\n\n*You have been faithful servants, so I will give you the means to solve your problems. But you must solve them on your own.*\n\nA strange object fell through the hole in the sky, which closed after its passage. It clattered on the mountaintop, baring straight edges of unblemished diamond feeding into a handle of polished silver. Yet it danced lightly, weight not matching design.\n\nGaram went to the object, and ran his hand along it. As he did, his hand came open. Blood came out. Garam and Jericho looked at each other, then curiously studied the weapon. \n\n\"This tool could provide for us if we hunted with it,\" noted Garam.\n\n\"The tool could provide for us if we used it to dig holes in the ground \nfor our seeds,\" realized Jericho.\n\nSo they took the tool back to their village. All came to look upon the object. Wise men studied it, preparing to copy it with lesser materials.\n\nBut one man looked at the object differently. Where others saw tools, Hamril of the Nerathim saw a weapon for use against his fellow man. One night, while everyone was sleeping, Hamril took the object and began poking the Satamites with it.\n\nJericho cried out upon seeing his friend Garam poked.\n\n\"Why Hamril? Do you not see it is hurting him? Stop!\"\n\nHamril spoke calmly. \"This was the answer He intended. The Satamites are the cause of our troubles. If we get rid of the Satamites, our troubles will end.\"\n\n\"No this is not the way,\" began Jericho, but the heavens opened again and a lightning bolt reduced him to ash.\n\nA shocked murmur ran through the village. God had spoken. The object was to be a weapon. The Nerathim ran through the village, holding down the Satamites while Hamril touched them with the weapon. When it was over, there were no more Satamites. Yet the Nerathim vowed to build more of these objects.",
"Little Erund Tarnbog turned his new iron dagger in his hands, peering along its keen cutting edge, feeling the flat of the blade in his palm. \"Father,\" he asked, \"who made the first knife?\"\n\n\"Men have always carried knives,\" said fur-bound Durg. \"The first-named man was given a knife by his father, just as I gave you yours.\"\n\n\"The first-named man had a father?\"\n\n\"Did you think he sprang out of the rock like a moon-willow? He had a father and a mother just like you.\" \n\nDurg pulled his hood low over his face, and drew his skinning-knife from its scabbard. \"They were of a clan of intelligent beasts. They stood on two legs like us, but they had fur like a yak's belly all over their bodies, and on their right hands they each had a single claw as long and sharp as a sickle.\" He held his knife between his fingers and slashed at the air. \"Now, the first-named man was born naked and without a claw of his own, but they loved him like any other cub. They gave him the skin of a bear in place of his missing fur, and forged him a knife of iron in place of his missing claw, and gave him a man's name in place of a howl, for they knew he was something special. In time he became the greatest of their clan, and he won a huge territory, and he took many beast-wives, and all of them bore him naked sons and daughters just like your mother bore you. To each of them he gave furs and a blade, having learned the secrets of skinning animals and forging iron from his own father.\"\n\nHe leaned close to his son. \"So if you want to know who made the first blade you would better ask the beasts! Now clean your knife and put it away. It's time to sleep.\"\n\nErund took his lard-dipped rag and ran it along his blade. He worked quietly for a while, then asked: \"where do they live now?\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"The first-named man's parents.\"\n\n\"Everything must pass from the world eventually, son. Our people were great hunters, but we lacked the wisdom to take only what we needed, so we stripped the mountains bare and spread to the lowlands to hunt mammoth and elk. The furred-ones could only eat the meat of the goat or the yak, so they starved. When we came back to the mountain they were gone. They are only bones in the deepest caves now.\"\n\nErund put his knife in its new leather scabbard then hung it over his chair. He wrapped himself in his grey fur and took his place by the fire. \"I want to see,\" he said.\n\n\"Aye, someday.\"",
"The first blade was not made of steel. It was not of iron, or rock, or earth. It was not crafted in fire. It was not sharpened on a whetstone, nor molded in the hands of man. No blood was shed in its wake, for no flesh was ever pierced. Yet no blade has ever done more damage. \n\nYou and I have both felt this blade. It never quite goes away, though new ones join it. All we can do is null the pain in time. I feel it puncture my stomach or enter my spine. The first blade, however, was driven right into my heart, 23 minutes after I cut you.\n"
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Every human can now do this (Depending on weight and flap speed)
How does this change things?
Explain your first moments/day of your new ability!
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[WP] The day that changed the world forever, You wake up and realize that if you flap your arms fast enough you can actually lift off of the ground!
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"Yawning and blinking furiously she slips into her sport shoes. With slow movements she clumsily brings her auburn colored hair into a messy ponytail only to find that she left her hair tie in the bedroom. With a sigh she turns to get it. \nFinally stepping out on the light-wooded porch, the cold air is full of sounds. A flock of redbreasts singing their morning song on the next hedge is most certainly one of the dominating examples, but as a sharp contrast every few moments a car drives by, each leaving behind a hint of polluted air. \nAs if she is able to feel that somehow she scratches her nose before starting to run in place. \nHer morning routine continues with jumping jacks and although she has been doing this one for months now she does the stretching first today. If she would only know what is going to happen in the course of the day, maybe she would not even start jumping. \nBut she does. And after about five of them it becomes clear that this is going to be an outstanding workout. Any passerby looking through the garden gate may think that she was jumping in slow motion. \nBut was she? Her feet lift up from the ground and they don’t return when you would expect them to. \nIt appeared to the outer world as if she is…flying? \nAs soon as there is a steady feet of air under her soles the narrowed eyebrows turn into wide open eyes and red freckles showing up all over her cheeks. \nShe slows her arm movements and almost falls down on her knees. Slowly she nods. \nScratching her head she returns into her living room. If she wouldn’t be already sitting when she checks the TV, she would be then. \nAt least now she knows that her new sports bra looks awful from distance, especially filmed out of a helicopter. \n\n~002",
"*Reports are coming in that some humans have developed the ability to fly. Wait, am I hearing this right Jerry? Viewers we now hand it over to Jerry who's reporting live from Garden of the Gods, Colorado.*\n\nThank you Martha, as you can see behind me, it appears that some people discovered they could fly overnight by flapping their arms like birds! It is **absolutely** unbelievable. Scientists are claiming that this phenomenon is called Evolutionary Stasis where a species suddenly splits into two, which in this case are the regular humans and the flying ones. \nWe've had a lot of injuries today too, broken bones, cracked ribs, etc. because not a lot of them understand how to land or stay straight in air. We are trying to get an interview with someone with these abilities but they just won't come down, I mean who would?\n\n*Thank you for the information Jerry, have you tried it yet?*\n\nTried what?\n\n*Well, flying of course!*\n\nUhh, this may sound stupid Martha but the thought never occurred to me in this craze and confusion. Let me just- \nOh, OH MY GOD, I'm lifting up, I'm lifting up! \nMartha are you seeing this? I feel like a god, I'll try to get the camera up with me so you can see too!\n\nThis is....this is the most wondrous thing I have ever experienced, wow. I'm..I'm sorry Martha but I just cannot waste my time talking anymore, I'll try to gain some hands-on experience so to speak. \nOver to you M.\n\n*Reporting live from Garden of the Gods, Colorado - Jerry Stevenson* \n**^Reporter/Flying ^Man**",
"Tom flapped his arms and laughed as he watched his feet lift off the ground. \"Oh my god,\" he said to himself looking around at all the spectators on the sidewalk watching him. \"Oh my fucking god,\" he yelled.\n\nTom winced, \"Ouch, this kinda hurts,\" and slowed down his flapping. A crowd surrounded him as he slowly landed. \"Hey man, hey, what else can you do,\" asked another man. A child ran up to him, \"Jesus! I love you.\" Tom stood there, his mouth agape.\n\n\"Whoa, whoa, wait a second here,\" Tom said stepping back. \n\n\"Hey man, make food or wine or something,\" yelled the man. \"Beer,\" yelled another man, \"please!\"\n\n\"Wha,\" Tom said and realized he inadvertently created a buffet in front of him. Half the people in the crowd dropped to their knees praying. A couple people walked up to the buffet, stared at it for a moment, poked at it, then began to eat. \"Hey, free hamburgers,\" yelled a woman.\n\n\nThe little boy said, \"Please bring grandma back,\" as an old woman appeared in front of Tom. \"Whoa, whoa, what the fuck,\" said Tom as the little boy jumped up in boy at the bewildered old woman. \"Grandma,\" he yelled and gave her a big hug.\n\nTom rubbed his eyes, paused, and said, \"Wait, I think I know what's going on here. I'm dreaming. This is one of those dreams where I'm in control and know I'm dreaming.\" Tom leaned over and pushed the old lady. She fell in front of the boy and swore. Tom giggled. \"Jesus, why did you do that,\" asked the boy.\n\n\"Its my dream, muggles,\" he said with a wide smile. \"I can do whatever I want. This is so cool.\" He paused, stared at the little boy, and the boy suddenly became a girl. Tom laughed. \"Hey I don't want to be a girl,\" she said poking at her frilly dress. Tom laughed some more. He then pointed at grandma, said \"Abracadabra,\" and she became a purple goat. Tom started walking away chuckling, \"Don't forget your goat, little girl.\"\n\nA man at the buffet yelled, \"Hey, no need to be a jerk just because you're powerful.\" Tom furrowed his brow at him, \"Why not, I'm real and you're just a dream character. All of you are just figments of my imagination.\" \n\nThe man looked at Tom, shrugged his shoulders, \"Considering we're both being controlled by a brain, what's the difference?\" \n\nTom looked shocked, \"Uhh,\" he said as the man walked away self-satisfied and biting into a hamburger.\n\nTom woke up in bed with a gasp. His arms reached out feeling the bed and he sat up. \"Christ, I really need to stop eating spicy food before bedtime,\" he told himself as he walked to the bathroom. \"Don't forget your goat, little girl,\" he whispered smiling and chuckling. He closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and said, \"I'm a real asshole, aren't I?\""
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[WP] - "All I wanted was some orange juice"
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"Shifting\nAll I wanted was some orange juice, but the universe seems to be playing tricks on me again. I can't understand it and there is nothing I can do to fix it. Everything I want seems to be out of reach, right down to the single drop of orange juice. One moment it will be there and the next it won't.\n\nI have come to the conclusion that I am shifting through dimensions or universes, or whatever you want to call it. Most of the time I don't even notice. There are only slight differences each time I shift. This time it was the glass of orange juice that I had in my hand. It completely disappeared.\n\nHave you ever misplaced something that you swore you just had a minute ago? Have you ever seen things that weren't the way you remember them? Even things like déjà vu occur when you shift to another place that is a few seconds behind.\n\nThis is how I live my life. The more I notice it, the more frequently it happens. There is no way to control it and most people think I am crazy. Even if a lady is walking her poodle is all of a sudden a great dane, she continues as if nothing happened.\n\nI turn around and there is a glass of orange juice on the counter behind me. I pick it up and drink it. After all, all I wanted was some orange juice. ",
"It’s been getting warmer over the past few days, though any day where her exhalations became visible were considered a danger. She breathed out deeply as she sat on the sidewalk on top of a thick piece of salvaged cardboard, watching the vapors expand, escape, disappear. \n\nShe closed her eyes and dreamed of California. Beverly Hills, Venice Beach, Hollywood, San Diego, places that she’s only heard about from television-- places that might as well be halfway around the world. New York was all she’s ever known, but maybe now’s the time to finally go, now that Rodrigo’s no longer a concern.\n\n“Will life ever get good again? Or just not as bad?” \n\nA young, tattooed man dropped a dollar bill into her paper cup unceremoniously as he walked past her. Having enough money to buy a hot coffee from the nearby shop, optimism trickled through her. First dollar of the day always went to a small splurge, she had promised to allow herself this a while ago. The concept of understanding when to give in and allow for small pleasures and when to exercise unwavering self-control was the center of many conversations she would have with her counselor at the shelter. \n\nUnderstanding one’s urges and regaining self-control. Such is the treatment plan doled out to an addict. \n\nShe still considered herself an addict, though clean for over three months. Linda, her counselor, was the one who suggested to make sure that she allowed herself small rewards, at least once in a while. She stood up and started making her way across the street. \n\nMaybe instead of some coffee, she’d get some orange juice today. She suddenly had a craving for something tart. \n \nMaybe instead of orange juice, she’d go to Southern California, she thought. \n\nNo wait- Florida. \n\nRodrigo is gone now, after all. A stony coldness sat in her stomach.\n\nIt’s funny, she thought to herself. All she wanted was some orange juice. But now, her wants are set on sunny Florida. \n",
"Well. Good.\nWorld has come to a close. \nEveryone is dead but me. \nAll I wanted was some damn orange juice.\n\nI guess I should start at the beginning. \n\nMy name, it doesn't matter, at this point, but it's Bill. I was a pretty normal guy, maybe a little luckier than average. Okay, a lot luckier than average.\n\nI made my living as a stock trader. I always seemed to move the right stock at the right time. Made quite the bundle of money doing it, too. \n\nMet my wife, chance encounter on a disgusting subway. Lucky she dropped her pen, that day.\nI survived an extremely rare form of heart attack. Cases only appear a few hundred times a year in the United States, and it's almost always fatal. Best cardiac surgeon in the country was at the closest hospital, giving a talk when I came in. Lucky.\n\nBeing, to my knowledge, the one person in the world who was not killed when hell itself bubbled out of the ground...lucky. Sort of. The fact that the whole \"hell on earth\" thing is my fault makes me wish I were as dead as my wife, or my friends, or my dog. \n\nBut it isn't to be. Because Satan himself came to me, as the fires of hell burned, and his minions rent the flesh from the bones of all with a zealous joy, and informed me that, in fact, the orange juice request was the reason for the end of the reign of man.\n\nI should back up again. The reason that hell decided to stop by for a chat is pretty simple: I prayed to the devil for a carton of orange juice, during a party some of my friends were holding. We were all carrying on like people much, much younger than we are, well, were, since they’re all dead now, playing some dumb party game. And it was suggested that the next person to drink would also have to pray to the devil for something.\n \nWell, I ended up drinking next, and figured orange juice to be a good thing to pray to the devil for, because it’s ridiculous. The stuff is everywhere! So I did.\n\nAnd then, about ten minutes later, the sky turned red, the ground shook horribly, and Satan came emerged from the bathroom.\n\n“Bill,” he said, in a conversational tone, “I happened to be listening for prayers a few minutes ago, and heard you want some orange juice.”\n\nI could not manage a reply. Especially since a few horned monstrosities had followed the prince of darkness from the shitter and were busy murdering my friends and spraying arterial blood all over each other whilst giggling like little girls.\n“I heard you wanted some orange juice, and I gotta say, that sounded pretty good to me. So I’ve come to earth to harvest some oranges, and I’m taking them back to hell to mix up a batch. Should be about twenty minutes.”\n\n“I…”\n\n“I can see you’re stunned, so I’ll just leave you here to get ready. Trust me, Bill, it’ll be the best damn glass of orange juice you’ll ever taste. I’ll have a minion bring it up when it’s ready.”\n\nI didn’t reply. I just fainted. When I came back, I looked around…devastation. On an unimaginable scale. Everything was destroyed. The buildings around me, razed. Only the skyscraper my friends and I were drinking in stood, in all of the formerly great city of New York. \n\nMy former friends all lay around me. Some dismembered. Some burnt down to fillings and teeth. One with nothing but a goddamn faucet buried in his forehead. \n\nSo I reacted in the only reasonable way. I went stark mad. \n \nI recall snatches of this time, but only vaguely, like after a pleasant dream on a perfect night. Sprinting down a ruined Broadway avenue, screaming, “All I wanted was some GODDAMN ORANGE JUICE,” and picking up pieces of people and throwing them about. \n\nAfter some time of this, I came back to sanity. Which, I suppose, was rather lucky, because right around then, a monster, an unspeakably hideous beast which most closely resembled a cat, popped out of a port-a-potty at a nearby construction site and bee-lined its way to me. \n\nOn a serving tray on its back was a champagne flute with a small amount of orange liquid.\n“Fuck it, everyone I know is dead and I caused the end of the world. May as well taste the orange juice!” I took the flute, and took a swig.\n\nAnd it killed me. The very first drop on my tongue killed me. Which was unfortunate for two reasons: now I’m in hell, with a very pissed off world population, and that really was the best orange juice I’ve ever had. And from the way Satan is pointing at me and laughing as he chugs down the remainder of the bottle, I’m obviously not getting anymore.\n\n\nE: Formatting.",
"I opened the door to the cooler and stood perusing the selection of beverages. V8. V8 Spicey Hot. Gatorade. Cranberry Juice. Ah! The orange juice. I was just getting ready to grab it when shouting from the front of the store pulled my attention away. \n\n\"Don't fucking move! This is a robbery! Open the register. Open the register!\" The men shouted. One of them saw me and ran over and pushed me to the front of the store.\n\n\"Can I get my orange juice?\" I asked.\n\n\"Fuck you! Get down on the floor!\" He shouted, holding the revolver to my head. \n\n\"Are you serious? He hasn't mopped this all day. Look at that crap. Huh-uh! Shoot my ass. I'm not laying in that. Just let me get my OJ and I'm out of here.\" I said.\n\n\"You think I'm playing?\" He shouted.\n\n\"I don't know. Is this usually how you have fun? People have hobbies. Just give me my OJ and I'll sit over here on that stack of sodas and watch you rob the guy. I'm easy that way.\" I told him. He was having none of it.\n\n\"You want your OJ?\" He asked, opening up the cooler door.\n\n\"It's in the other one.\" I told him. He yanked a differnt door open and pulled out a bottle of OJ and held it up?\n\n\"Is this what you want?\" He asked hatefully.\n\n\"No. I prefer Tropicana. It's still watered down, but it's a lot better than that offbrand shit.\" I replied, trying to be honest.'\n\n\"Motherfucker, I'm not playing with you.\" He slammed the bottle down on the floor shattering the lid. Orange juice went everywhere. I gave him a tired look and glanced over at the cashier who was staring at the spilled OJ. He looked up at me really pissed off. I shrugged.\n\n\"He made the mess.\" I told him. \"Look Bill, I can get it. Just let me get my Tropicana, and I'll be good.\"\n\n\"Is this what you want?\" He shouted again, breaking another. \"Or this? Or this? Or this?\" He kept slamming them on the ground.\n\n\"Break all of those you want. They're really nasty. In fact, other than the mess, I think you're doing the world a real solid taking those out of circulation. Just give me a Tropicana Orange Juice and this drama can end. For Christ sake, your partner has already emptied the register. Just leave and let me get my God damn OJ.\" I shouted. \n\n\"Is this what you want?\" He asked, pulling out a half gallon of orange juice?\" He asked, slamming it on the ground.\n\n\"I don't even think you're listening to me. That shit was nasty. It's like from concentrate and they add vitamins to it and water and it just taste like water with orange flavored vitamins added to it. It is wretched. Shit!\" I turned to the cashier. \"You should feel bad carrying that brand. You should feel really bad. No one who has ever eaten a orange would ever buy that.\" The cashier gave me the finger. \"Can. I. Have. It. Now.\" I asked really slowly so the neandrethal with the snub nosed revolver could understand me.\n\n\"Oh, I hear you cup cake,\" he said, pulling out a Tropicana Orange Juice.\n\n\"Finally, Bill gets it right.\" I crow, holding out my hands for it. He came forward and stuck the revolver under my nose, then slammed the Tropicana Orange Juice bottle on the floor, splashing my feet.\n\n\"Last one, cupcake.\" He taunted.\n\n\"Are you serious?\" For realz?\" I asked.\n\n\"For real, homes.\" He chortled. I pulled my head to the side and grabbed his gun and spun to the side. He pulled the trigger shooting his partner in the leg. I twisted his wrist and stepped back, yanking his hand down so the gun pointed at the ceiling and was rewarded with a satisfying crackle as the small bones in his wrist broke. He cried out in pain and I curb stomped his head, then took the gun away and pointed it at the other thief on the ground. He let go of his piece and slid it toward me.\n\n\"All I wanted was some orange juice!\" I shouted. I looked at the cashier in a huff. He shrugged.\n\n\"You really got a hardon for orange juice.\" The cashier observed.\n\n\"Yeah. You ain't right, homes.\" The man on the floor remarked.\n\n\"I really wanted an orange juice.\"",
"The phone rang for the fifth time in ten minutes and Jenna sighed. Who the hell even had her home phone number?\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Hi, Jenna,\" breathed a female voice.\n\n\"Hi? Who is this?\"\n\n\"MOMMY HELP! *MOMMY!*\" The phone slipped from Jenna's hand and landed on the counter. *This person had Jeremy.* She grabbed the phone and put it back up to her ear.\n\n\"What are you doing to my son?\"\n\n\"Oh, we're playing games. Jeremy seems to like games,\" replied the voice. Jeremy began crying in the background.\n\n\"Let me goooo, please let me goooo,\" he sobbed.\n\n\"Shhh, honey, it'll be okay,\" cooed the voice. Jenna screamed furiously into the phone.\n\n\"Listen here you sick bitch, my boyfriend, *Jeremy's father*, is a cadet in the police academy and you better believe that we'll use this phone number to track your ass down.\" The voice cackled.\n\n\"No, you listen here you heartless twat. Jeremy and I will be long gone by the time John gets home. In fact, we may just flee the country.\"\n\n\"I'll track his passport.\"\n\n\"Jenna, Jenna, Jenna,\" sighed the voice. \"I'm just taking back what's rightfully mine.\" Jenna paused, genuinely confused.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" The voice giggled, but Jenna could hear the lack of humor and possible lack of sanity through the phone.\n\n\"Don't you remember me Jenna? You hit me with your car in the middle of a hot afternoon a few years ago. You and your boyfriend were getting high, got the munchies, and decided to drive to the supermarket, which I happened to be walking to as well. Little did you know, I was eight monts pregnant and while you failed to kill me, you killed my unborn son.\" Jenna's blood froze as the voice continued. \"All I wanted was some fucking orange juice, but I guess your son will do.\"",
"She sat, waiting for him, in the kitchen. Her posture perfect, as always. Her knuckles white with the gripping intensity of her fingers. A leg bobbed up and won. Nothing seemed to captivate her attention; her head was on a swivel. \n\nOn and on, it seemed, she waited and waited. Longer than Prometheus, longer than that dog in Futurama, longer than the awaited Half Life 3, she waited.\n\nFinally, when she felt she could wait no longer, she heard the door open, and listened to him come inside.\n\nShe heard the hanging of his coat, taking off of his shoes, and the heavy release of his tired sigh.\n\n\"I'm in the kitchen,\" she called towards him. \n\nInaudibly he shuffled his exhausted feet into the the kitchen. With so much as a nod or grunt, he moved past her. Reaching the cabinet, he opened the doors and started his after work ritual.\n\nWell, that's not really accurate. It was more than that. It was a before brushing your teeth ritual, a during breakfast, after lunch and while taking a shit on the pot ritual.\n\nShe watched him, as he continued his sacred act. \n\nWalking over to the fridge, he loosed open the door and bent over, peering inside. Crouch over, he looked into the fridge stoically, as if in a staring contest with it's contents.\n\nA frustrated groan left his lips as he reached inside and moved some things around. Eventually, he released another heavy sigh and hung his head.\n\n\"Where the fuck's the orange juice?\"\n\n\"We're out.\" \n\nRolling his eyes, he scolded her, \"Fuck's sake, Janette, I told you to get some.\"\n\n\"You also said you were done with this.\" \n\n\"Shut your goddamned mouth. Seriously now, where the fuck is the OJ?\"\n\nShe didn't reply. She had practiced this very conversation a hundred times over the last few weeks. Her bathroom mirror the companion she rebounded ideas off of. Janette wanted to give him a chance, a final chance before she ended it. \n\n\"I'm not fucking around, Jan, go get me my goddamned orange juice.\"\n\n\"I told you, I wouldn't let you do this aga--\"\n\n\"AND I TOLD YOU TO SHUT YOUR GODDAMNED MOUTH,\" he screamed, advancing towards her.\n\nShe stood up, slinking backwards toward the wall, an arm raised to shield herself from his strike. He reared back, eyes red with fury, his muscles taut with the anticipation of blows. At the final moment, he stopped, relaxed and looked at her. Unwavering and unblinking, he looked her straight in the eyes, not six inches from her face.\n\n\"Where's the OJ, Janette?\"\n\n\"We're out.\"\n\nHer face was hot with pain, his had crossed across his body, and palm open. He did not take his eyes off her.\n\n\"I said,\" he continued, \"where. The. FUCK. Is the OJ?!\"\n\nHer hand was covering her face where he had slapped her, as if it helped with the pain. She was terrified, her eyes welled up with tears and her bottom lip quivered.\n\nAs if by searching herself, she found courage. Her breathing normalized and her lip stopped twitching. She looked back into his eyes, her facial expression deadpan.\n\nHis fury returned and he raised his left arm this time to strike her. His eyebrows raised and mouth pursed as he swiftly brought his hand down. Again, and again he hit her.\n\nHe wiped his mouth with his forearm and looked at her. He grit his teeth and used his dominant hand to grasp her throat and pin her to the wall.\n\nTheir noses were touching when he seethed through clenched teeth, \"I hope, for your sake, you're about to tell me where the Orange Juice is.\"\n\nShe pissed him off more than she ever had before in their 26 years of marriage at that moment; she stayed quite. He felt a press against his stomach then a deafening crack. The kitchen was illuminated in a false light as the gun's flash assaulted their senses.\n\nHis grip loosened and he staggered backward. Clutching his stomach, he ran into the table. In an effort to catch himself, his hand missed and he fell to the ground, mouth gaping, eyes white with fear.\n\nShe looked at him with sadness, with love and longing, but most of all she looked upon him with pity. She put the gun on the table and walked to him. Kneeling down beside his dying body she held him in her arms, cradling his head like a sick child.\n\n\"Shhhhhhh....\" she said to him, \"shhhhhhh....\"\n\nHis mouth was opening and closing as his eyes searched for something 1000 yards away. He breathed something she couldn't quite make out. She leaned her ear to his mouth and listened.\n\n\"All I wanted was some orange juice...\" he wheezed.\n\nShe smiled sadly and her lip began to quiver again, \"I know...\" she said to him, she held his head in both hands now and rocked back and forth.\n\n\"I know.\"",
"\"I'm a dirty little piece of shit\"\n\nI looked at my reflection in the filthy mirror with a sort of restrained longing, like a dog who is trying to lick his own balls but can't quite stretch his neck far enough. Staring at myself and feeling this made me queasy, but I just felt so physically attracted to the man in the mirror. It upset me.\n\nEmotion washed over me like an aggressive storm surge, battering and blindsiding me. Images of my younger self began to float around my mashed sense of self, distant vague apparitions and fragments of a former version of me. \n\n\"Snap out of it\" I thought as I finished my glass of orange juice, carefully separating the pulpy bits from my teeth with my tongue. Toothpaste was next on the menu as I slowly swam back to reality and faced my morning commute.\n\n\"Why the fuck am I so visceral in the morning?\" I asked my reflection.\n\n\"All you needed was some orange juice\" it replied.\n\n",
"\"ORANGE... JUICE?\" I said loudly, into one of the locals face. He shook his head, muttering something incomprehensible while shuffling back into the never ending crowd that walked the Bangkok sidewalks. I sighed, exasperated. I had been in Thailand a week now, and all I wanted was some freaking orange juice. While it seemed there was a 7-11 on every street corner, no Thai had ever heard of orange juice. \n\n\"Orange juice, you say? Yes, I know where you can get the freshest orange juice\" I glanced over and saw a sixty-something old man, sitting in a lawn chair in the shade, smoking a cigarette. His skin was weathered, like the skin on the elephant I had ridden earlier in the week.\n\n\"Please, old man. I'm begging you... I just need some sweet sweet OJ\" I pleaded with the old man.\n\n\"There is a marketplace, just around the corner that sells fresh orange juice, but they run out very quickly\" the old man said slowly, his voice faint, and high pitched.\n\n\"Just tell me the fastest way to get there, old man!\" I knew I was being rude, but at this point I didn't care. For some reason the need for orange juice took over any sense of compassion I had. I saw the old man purse his weathered lips, and he pointed to an alley two buildings down, his attention back on the cigarette he was smoking.\n\nWithout so much as a thank you I sprinted down the uneven sidewalk towards the alley, the thought of With Pulp Tropicana fresh in my head. I reached the alley and continued to walk through it. It was longer then I thought it would have been. I've been walking for ten minutes and there was still no sign of an ending. The sun was high in the sky, and the heat was taking its toll on me. I wandered up to where I saw a couple of locals working on a car and approached them.\n\n\"Excuse me, English?\" I asked them. One of them shook their head excitedly in my direction, while muttering a Thai phrase. \"Umm, is there a marketplace around here? I was told I could buy orange juice there?\" \n\n\"Orange juice! Yes yes just this way! Please come!\" he exclaimed excitedly. \"Best orange juice ever!\" \n\nHe lead me into his house, which was unexpected. But my thirst was so great I believe even if they did try anything I could take this skinny Thai man. We continued into his kitchen, his dog looking up at me tiredly as I walked past him. He opened up his refrigerator door and lo and behold, it was filled with OJ. I'm not talking about a couple of bottles, I'm talking to the brim, case upon case of orange juice. I was in heaven. Without even asking I grabbed a jug and drank, and drank, and dran...\n\n*\n\nWhen I woke up I noticed it was dark. I was laying on something hard. A table, I thought. I looked up and noticed the skinny Thai man who's orange juice I drank not... well I don't know how long ago it was really, but I drank his juice, and he looked pissed. Not only pissed, but.. older? Like he'd been out in the sun for too long. As I began to regain my senses, I realized we were not alone. His dog was with us, and an old man. At least in his 90s, but I knew him from somewhere, but I just couldn't remember... Wait! It was the old man who sent me down the alley. But it couldn't be. While he was old, he was not as old as this old man, was he? I couldn't think straight.\n\n\"Welcome back\" the old man croaked, his voice faint, and high pitched.\n\n\"You!\" it was him! I was sure of it. \"But how are you... so old?\" He only replied with a laugh. I noticed the skinnier, younger (but still old), man rooting around the cupboards. I tried to sit up, and I noticed the bonds that were around my wrists and ankles. \"What the hell is going on here!\" I exclaimed. \"What the hell do you think you're doing?!\"\n\nBefore I got a response, the skinny Thai man plunged a large dagger into my chest. \n\n\"Wh-Why?\" I asked, feeling the life leaving my body. I watched as the two of them, somehow, managed to turn younger and younger before my eyes, feeding on my youth. \n\nAll I wanted was some orange juice",
"\"What the fuck does a goblin want with orange juice? Did your mother fuck an elf or something?\" a voice whispers.\n\n\"Shut up.\"\n\n\"Or what? You'll wave your big old cleaver at me and look mean? Bite me, cheese-for-brains.\"\n\n\"I said shut up.\"\n\n\"'Ooh, look at me, I think I'm a human and I'm going to do human things like drink orange juice and wear socks.'\"\n\nGrushnak throws a punch at Hvolbar, who deftly dodges it, despite the confined space, and sniggers.\n\n\"Fucking orange juice. All I wanted was some orange juice.\"\n\n\"And look where the fuck it got us. All the orange juice you could ever want. Got any ideas on how to get us out of this mess, instead of further in to it?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I might just, actually.\"\n\n----\n\nThe whole thing had been Grushnak's idea. It couldn't've been simpler: wait for the middle of the second watch, sneak in to the village in the valley over and steal what they could get their hands on, then sell it and get blind drunk on the proceeds. A good, solid night's work.\n\nIt had even started well: in the smithy, they'd found a cache of throwing axes, and had gladly stuffed their pockets and bags with them. Those would have a very nice price-to-weight ratio. Flushed with success, they decided to make a visit to the food store, and then make their escape good.\n\nOf course, life is never so simple for goblins.\n\n----\n\n\"Uch. Unclean. Humans are disgusting.\" Hvolbar wrinkled his nose and whacked the smoked meats hanging from the ceiling, sending them swinging madly. Grushnak was opening the lid of each barrel in turn, scowling in disgust and then spitting into the contents.\n\n\"How many fucking barrels of cheese do they need?\"\n\n\"Shit, you know humans. If there's one thing they love more than hunting goblins it's cheese.\" He sniffed the air and cocked an ear. \"You looking for something?\"\n\n\"Orange juice. Seen any?\"\n\nAn amused snort. \"Orange juice. What the fuck?\" A lid clattered noisily to the ground and rolled away. \"Better hurry up. I hear voices.\"\n\n\"It's a soff-is-tee-cay-ted taste, see. Your common goblin doesn't pree-shee-ate it, it's too sour for his taste.\"\n\nThat got a giggle out of Hvolbar. \"Oh, fucking ace. A whole barrel of sugar.\" Greedily, he dipped his hand in and stuffed it into his mouth. \"The voishesh are getting louder,\" he slurred.\n\nGrushnak ignored him and went on searching barrels. He shrugged, and continued shovelling the sugar into his mouth.\n\nEvery goblin knows that nothing is freely given, especially not by Fate. So as Grushnak was prying open the barrel of orange juice, he should have known that he was going to have to pay for it—though he couldn't've have known how soon.\n\n\"Score.\"\n\nThe storeroom's door creaked open a few inches and a tow-haired youth peered through, blind in the darkness. Hvolbar hissed and ducked behind his barrel; the youth withdrew in alarm, and Hvolbar scuttled over to Grushnak.\n\n\"Grushnak! Fuck your orange juice, we've got to move.\"\n\n\"Yeah, a second. Give me a leg up, I can't reach it.\"\n\n\"I said fuck it. They're here.\"\n\n\"We'll go straight after. I just want a drink of orange juice, alright?\"\n\nHvolbar seethed and looked around anxiously, but made a step out of his knobbled hands and Grushnak hopped on to it.\n\n\"You fat bastard. Hurry up.\"\n\nGrushnak noisily slurped at the drink while Hvolbar grumbled and muttered curses about his mother, father, grandfather, grandmother, uncle, aunt, clan chief, dog, favourite drink and anyone else with the misfortune to be associated with such a stupid goblin.\n\nThe door was crashed wide open, and torchlight filled the room. Hvolbar didn't have time to think too hard: he tipped a startled Grushnak into the barrel, grabbed the lid and jumped in himself.\n\n----\n\nThe lid on the barrel lifts a little bit. If it wasn't so dark, an observer would be able to make out a little patch of green skin underneath, wrinkled and furrowed. It lifts a little further, revealing pointed ears and big, round eyes, pupils wide, peering into the murk left, and then right, and then left again.\n\n\"Yeah, they're gone,\" Grushnak whispers. As quietly as he can, he drops the lid off to the side, and clambers out of the barrel, dripping wet and stinking of oranges. Hvolbar follows, still fuming and just as soaking. Grushnak grabs the lid and picks his way through barrels of food to the side wall, where a number of boxes had been piled on the side.\n\nThe goblin nods, and Hvolbar makes another step with his hands, boosting Grushnak up on to the top of the pile, who then hauls him up to join him. Grushnak grabs hold of one of the ceiling beams of the roof and pulls himself and then Hvolbar up.\n\nGrushnak pushes through the thatching and peers outside, watching. Two skinny guards are patrolling a circuit, one with fair hair and the other a darker complexion, and he can see several sentries with burning torches stationed at intervals. He slips through the straw and silently crouches on the roof, with Hvolbar following soon after.\n\nThe two goblins make eye contact, with Grushnak motioning to stay on this side. Each one pulls out a throwing axe from their caches; waiting until both guards are on the far side of the storehouse.\n\nGrushnak cocks back his arm and throws his axe. He misses his target clumsily, clattering off to the side of the window of the house opposite. They both freeze, holding their breath nervously for someone to look up and spot them sitting there on the roof, bold as you like.\n\nBut no-one looks up. They breathe again, and Grushnak pulls out another axe. Taking aim more carefully, he smashes it through the window in a great crashing of broken glass, sending all eyes roving. Hvolnar takes his turn, and sends his axe through the adjacent window, and every guard in the village starts jogging towards the source of the noise.\n\nBoth goblins scamper over ridge of the roof, watching the guards moving in the opposite direction to them. They drop down, rolling with the impact, and start running for the fields.\n\n----\n\n\"Hey Grushnak.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"First round's on me when we're flush.\" The goblin eyes him suspiciously: nothing's free.\n\n\"What's the catch?\"\n\n\"I'm buying you an orange juice.\"",
"All I wanted was some orange juice, but instead I got a gun waved in my face. Great start to the week.\n\nTruth be told, I wasn't planning on making it to Tuesday anyway. The monotony of my life and complete lack of control over its direction has driven me to a place of absolute indifference. \n\nThe poorly disguised thugs holding up this tiny alleyway cafe have just brushed aside any doubts that I didn't want to live in this plane of existence.\n\nThey're getting out of hand, one of them just pistol whipped a middle-aged lady for voicing her concerns with the situation.\n\nGlancing across at the terrified, trembling face of my 16-year-old serving girl I shake my head in resignation and raise to challenge the assailant.\n\n\"All I wanted was some fucking orange juice.\"\n\nSomeone died that day.",
"“Do we have any more orange juice?” Keith asked. He yanked open the refrigerator door and peered inside, letting out a quiet sigh as he saw the empty carton on the bottom shelf, “You didn’t go to the grocery store today?”\n\n“Oh, did I *forget* to pick up your precious orange juice?” Shelby hissed from the sink. She stopped in her merciless scrubbing of a pan and turned on Keith, her swollen, pregnant frame wavering slightly as she grasped the counter for support, “You do realize I’m 8 months pregnant, right? The world doesn’t revolve around *you*, Keith. You’ll have to pick up some slack sometime! I mean, you’re going to be a father for fuck’s sake. Why didn’t *you* pick up any juice?”\n\nKeith looked up at his wife with a look of bewilderment and nervously cleared his throat, “I...I was at *work*...for twelve hours! It’s not a big deal, baby, I mean...I was just curious, I didn’t mean to-”\n\n“*Oh don’t give me that fucking ‘work’ excuse!*” she sneered, crossing her arms across her chest, “You could have stopped at the store on your way home! Or, let me guess, you forgot your wallet again, didn’t you?!”\n\nShelby’s eyes welled with tears and as opened his mouth to respond, she thrust a finger towards the fridge, “I mean, you can’t even close the fridge door, can you!? You’re just standing there, gaping at me like an idiot!” \n\n“But...I-” Keith stammered, quickly shutting the fridge door to stand and try to reason with his wife, “Listen, babe, I’m sorry! I...I mean, it’s just orange juice, it’s not important!” \n\n“It’s the *concept* of the thing, Keith!” Shelby wailed suddenly. Hot tears began gushing from her eyes and her cheeks turned a bright red while she choked back sobs, “If you can’t even pick up the juice how are we going to raise our children!?”\n\n\n“What!?” Keith cried. Part of him wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea, but the other part was too terrified to make a move. \n\n“I MEAN IT!” she roared. Shelby dropped her head and cradled her face in her hands. She stood motionless, shaking and sobbing in the middle of the kitchen. Keith reached out to his wife, unsure of what to say or do to console her, but she jerked away at his touch with a spiteful glare, “*I just can’t do this right now!* I’m going to take a bath. Leave me alone for an hour.”\n\nWithout another word, she marched out of the kitchen and upstairs, leaving her poor husband alone and wondering what had just happened, exactly. Keith scratched his head and frowned, “All I wanted was some orange juice…”"
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[WP] Write about someone who sells dreams in a world where dreams are forbidden or extinct
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"\"I'm an astronaut. No, no, I just won the Medal of Honour. I think tonight I'll be a famous writer\" I pondered, sitting alone, as usual, encased in four walls of unremarkable concrete, opposite a plane steel door, with no windows and one small light, illuminating... hopelessness. It doesn't matter where you are when you're never there. In a world where Nixon has won, where not only drugs are forbidden, but dreams to, life is not the enemy, but reality. \n\n\"It happened so fast, the war on drugs became the war on free thought, and the when free thought is combated, the casualties are always high. But this time it wasn't just men who died, but ambition. When there are no more heroes, when those who would once stand up and be counted lie down and accept their fate there are no winners, only players, and in a fire of capitulation, a pleading of it all to stop, they presented us a deal. No more dreams, no more fighting. We accepted.\"\n\nThat was thirty years ago, that was my father's story, the only interesting thing he said in his whole useless life, the only generation that could save us fucked it all up.\n\n\"Well this is my generation, my change\", the only thought that was really my own, the only one that kept me going. I stood up, only a couple of clients to save and then I can pretend life isn't hopeless again.\n\nThe city is bleak, grey and lifeless, not that there aren't people there, there are people everywhere, but they aren't people, they're drones. Walking past them I can't help but feel sorry for them, or am I feeling sorry for myself? Sorry that I'm the one shouldering a futile burden, one that could get me killed, for the good of a few who refuse to be counted, refuse to be part of the system. \n\nHe always looks the same, in fact he's the happiest person I've ever met, when he swings his door open I know he's ready.\n\n\"What'll it be today pal? Maybe you're a pornstar, maybe you're walkin' through a great big fuck off green field with birds and butterflies, or maybe you're dead? Ha. You should be so lucky.\" \n\nI don't really care what he thinks of me, he's a useless junkie and everyone can see it, that smiles a dead give away.\n\n\"What's a butterfly?\" He asked, clearly bemused by my brash introduction.\n\n\"Ha, you're asking me pal, some gibberish my granddad made up, apparently they're like bats.\" \n\n\"Alright\", he was pondering, thinking about his next fix, he was probably wondering whether he wanted to be on top of mount Everest or maybe just punching whoever's in charge of this god-awful world. \n\n\"Hurry up mate, I've got shit to do, society's to subvert, lives to ruin, you know what they say about people like me\" I knew what they called me, so did he, and he winced when I alluded to it. I'm a dissident, a disturber of the peace, I ruin lives by returning to people a few hours of our God given right to not have to experience this shit hole. To be somewhere else. \n\n\"I want a nightmare\" he whispered in a tone that hung, jarring the air. \n\n\"You want a fucking nightmare pal? Well you've got it, hey just go outside and get a job, there you go, don't even pay me, that's one's on the house.\" I couldn't believe he said that, what a joke.\n\n\"No, I *want* a nightmare. I'm sick and tired of your green grass and mountains bullshit, I want something real.\"\n\n\"Something real?\" I inquired, I was interested, I'll admit it. I had no idea how to even create a nightmare, maybe I'd have to combine many dreams at the same time, yes, that might work, but I'd have to try it. I couldn't just sell something without trying it, I'm not a fuckin' cheap drug dealer, I'm not scum.\n\n\"Alright, alright, a nightmare, you've got it, I don't know how the brains gonna interpret this thought, I've never done it before, so if we go batshit crazy, well, hey, it's your fault.\"\n\nI put on the glasses, so did he, and I loaded up ten different programs into each. Normally you just fall asleep and it happens but this time it was different, we were scared, or at least I was, he was ready. \n\n\"SHIT FUCKS YOU UP\" was the first thing I heard upon waking, he was pacing around the room, sporadically punching the air, jumping up and down, his eyes were wide and his knuckles were bloody. \n\nI was dazed, bemused, I felt confused and sick, I looked out the window and it was still light, the drones were still walking aimlessly around, how long was I gone for? At least I didn't freak out, at least my knuckles weren't covered in blood.\n\n\"Again, *again*, AGAIN\" he screamed, \"fuck this, fuck it all, this is what I've been looking for\" he extended his hand out and presented me with a big wad of paper, money, the only thing in this world that's real.\n\nI took all his money, I even asked him for more and laid him down again and put on the glasses, this time loading twenty programs simultaneously. Before switching it on I looked around, what am I doing, in this world that's already so fucked up, now I'm just helping people to leave it. How did we ever get here? How did it become so bad? \n\n\"What a loser\" I thought on my way out, \"what a fucking loser\". The memory stick with all the dreams on it was in the palm of my hand, I was sweating, it fell. I took one step back and brought my boot down on it. \"Whether we dream or not is irrelevant, when good men do nothing, evil triumphs\" was my final thought before swinging open the door into the bleak, bleak, reality. I need to change this world, dreams are the end, not the means.",
"The small brick building was set back from the main street down a dark alley a sign above the doorway read \"experience your inner-self\". The sign was weathered and the writing was hard to read. The occasional person would exit the building and then join the high street as if they had done nothing wrong. The door was black and made of thick metal some paint had peeled away allowing the metal to rust and corrode away. \n A man sneaked off the street and down the alley towards the shop. He knocked three times and the door and then looked behind him to see if anyone was watching. The door had a small slider which opened and a man looked through. After checking who it was he opened the door. The hallway inside was a dark as the alley allowing no peering eyes to see what was inside. The hallway led to a large open plan room which had several beds laid out with curtains sectioning off each bed. The customer followed the man to one of the beds and then closed the curtains around it. \n The customer layer down on the bed, rested his bed on the pillow and closed his eyes. Only in this place was dreaming able to occur. In the outside world he dream keepers will find dreamers and prosecute them...",
"I stroll along the nearly deserted street, lit along it's way by various neon signs advertizing government approved recreation. Most of it simply little more than propaganda dolled up a bit. I have to fight back a sneer as I pass them, as the cameras are always watching.\n\nIn my pocket clink the richest treasures I have ever held. Inside the small, metal cylinders I try desperately to keep quiet resides the last remaining hope for all of humanity. At least that's what I tell myself. In truth, so far as modern society is concerned, I might as well be carrying a pound of methamphetamine. \n\nI finally approach the dark alleyway my journey has led me to. I crank up the light amplification of my highly illegal cyber-eyes, and check to make sure no one is present. Only the steam that slowly rises, dancing in the chilly breeze, from a grate in the street before me. I smile again, with more feeling this time. Once again, against the odds, I've made it. Below my feet thousands of people live as humans once did, without the oppressive weight of plutocrats weighing down on them, condemning everything that makes us human. Even dreams.\n\nIn my pocket the cylinders clink together again, despite my best efforts at silencing them. I really should invest in a proper carrying system and stop putting the damned things in my pocket. A pocket full of dreams, how poetic. \n\nMy amplified vision catches a small movement near the grate and I tense. Probably only a rat, or some other small animal looking for a meal, but I focus in anyway. Through the steam a thin red beam glimmers to life, and I know right away there is a dot tracking across my forehead. End of the line. They finally found me.\n\nIn my last act of defiance, and the main reason I never did invest in a better carrying system, I toss the cylinders, the dreams, towards the grate. If they found me here, it is very likely they are already down below, but I have to try. They clink and clatter as they hit the grate, some of them falling through and into the steam below. \n\nMy final thought before the bullet carves my brain from my skull is that I hope one dream in particular made it down. It involves a beautiful young woman singing in the most beautiful voice. She sings to a frightened child, and the soothing tones always manage to quell the fear. My mother. My dream.",
"“Yeah that won’t be too hard to do. I’m gonna need the money up front.”\n\n Grimy little bastard is all too quick to hand me his sweaty cash. I hand him a clear little vial, with microscopic crystals scratching the inside of the glass. He makes his way down the alley, pulling up his collar to try and obscure his face. I’d like to say that not all my clientele look as bad as him. I’d like to. Still, everyone needs a fix and when you’re the only supplier in town you’re bound to deal with a couple of shit heads.\n\n Demands only been going up lately. I hear it’s something in the water. Not that I can complain. Keeps food enough on the table. Plus I get to do the great honour of letting some of these underprivileged assholes dream that they get to fuck Michele Pfeifer or someone before they wake up and realise they’re a nobody. Shame the stuff causes erectile dysfunction. No problem for me though, I still sleep easy.\n",
"\"You're lying, Marie. You don't have any.\" \n\nI sighed. \"I have some.\" Pointing to my nightstand, I hoped he didn't believe me. It was easier if they didn't know what my nights were filled with. \"In there?\"\n\nTrevor twitched. \"M-may I?\" He'd grown up in the Dreamscape where dreams were exterminated first. Most likely, he missed them. \n\nHe slid the drawer open, taking out a small bottle. Dreams. Each one a pill with a little blue spot on them. Every one's nightmares and sweet manifestations in little pills, to be dispensed as punishment for criminals or morphine for the plagued.\n\nIt seemed selfish for me to own them, for Trevor to take them, for the money in my wallet to come from them. In a way, I felt like they were owed that much, though. The money was only a bonus. Maybe, if they were lucky, they would take their own dream.\n\nThe pill slipped past his tongue. Trevor swallowed hard.\n\nI was too lucky. ",
"I sat there in silence, listening to the woman on the stage read off a list of names. People who would be sectioned into different career paths or “Life Destinies” they called it. It always made me wonder just what I would be. A doctor or a lawyer? No one knew until they called your name on your 18th birthday.\n\n“Daniel Marton”\n\nI lift my gaze from my feet to look up at the woman on stage. She wore her blonde hair on top of her head in the most perfect bun, not a hair out of place. I wait for her to identify just what I was going to be. A policeman or mailman. I had always fancied being a business owner though.\n\nI watch her pause, blinking at me several times before looking back down at the list in front of her. The longer the silence the more people start to mutter to each other until finally she clears her throat.\n\n“I’m sorry Mr. Marton but we don’t have a career path for you.”\n\nThe whispers start to flow again and I sit there in shock as she moves to the next person on the list. Was there some kind of mistake? Had I done something wrong? I sit there, lost in thought, blocking out the rest of the list. What was I to do now? Become the next bum on the street?\n\nKids begin to stand out of their seats, hurrying to start their new lives. But me? I just sit there, staring at the floor until the last person leaves and the janitor starts sweeping the floor. He whistles a merry tune, breaking me out of my thought.\n\n“Down in the dumps kid?” He asks without looking at me. I didn’t really have anything to say. “You know…” He starts again, pushing the broom across the floor. “It’s not completely the end of the world.”\n\n“How do you know? You at least have a career path.” I stated, scowling at the man as he shrugs.\n\n“True, I have a job, income, etc.” He replies, setting the broom against the wall. “But they were all chosen for me.”\n\nMy eyes followed him as he took one of the chairs in front of me and turned it to face me.\n\n“What if I told you there was more?” He asked, glancing around to make sure we were truly alone.\n\n“More? More what?” I asked.\n\n“Let me show you.” Reaching out, the man gently placed his hand on my head with his palm placed over my forehead. For a moment, I just watched him with a confused expression and then it happened.\n\n~*Flash*~\n\nI take the last remaining steps and then stop on the peak of a mountain, overlooking such beauty. The sun was setting, casting colors of reds, purples and oranges over the land below me. Mountains swam between the clouds and I gasp, transfixed by the beauty.\n\n~*Flash*~\n\nThe roaring of people as I step out into the light. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust but then I see it, rows of people calling out my name. Cheering for me. Walking forward, I step up to the microphone and the band behind me strikes that familiar chord. Closing my eyes, I begin to sing, making the crowd cheer louder with excitement.\n\n~*Flash*~\n\nI stand there, looking through the window. People pushing past me but I ignore them. My gaze and attention was caught by the miracle in front of me, wrapped in a tiny pink blanket. Her eyes were closed but I knew they held the same shade of blue as her mother’s. I can’t help but smile down at the tiny life before me and know that she was going to change my life forever.\n\n~*Flash*~\n\nCameras flash as I smile towards them. Dressed in my business suit, I’m the image of perfection and advancement. I know this as I cut the ribbon, symbolizing the official opening of my new business. People rush forward, eager to shake my hand. Smiles and words were exchanged as I turn different directions for the reporters to take my picture.\n\n~*Flash*~\n\nI stand there nervously, waiting for those doors to open. An organ in the background strikes up that familiar chord and everyone in their seats turn to face those closed doors. And suddenly they open. In a ray of sunlight, I see her standing there with her beautiful white dress next to her father. But my eyes couldn’t stray from the beauty who was now walking towards me.\n\n~*Flash*~\n\nIt takes me a moment to recollect myself from those images which still now flashed through my head. The older man sighs and stands up, gently patting my shoulder as he walks away. My breath comes in short gasps as I lean back in my chair.\n\n“What just happened?” I asked, my gaze snapping over to the man.\n\n“What you experienced, son, was something not many get to live. You experienced possibilities, wonders, and goals in which you can lay down for yourself.” He explained, returning to his sweeping of the floor.\n\n“What are they called?”\n\nHe stopped and froze for a second before turning. “Dreams.”\n\n“Dreams? I thought they didn’t exist.”\n\n“Oh they do, lad. Just not here, in this society. Dreams are something you strive for to make your life meaningful.”\n\n“What do they cost?” I asked, afraid they would cost more than what money I had.\n\n“Those samples are for free but the real thing?” He smiled, picking up one of the trash bags and heading towards the door. Before exiting, he turned back. “Make sure the dream in which you choose, is important to you, son. Because their cost is your time.”\n",
"\"You liked it, didn't you?\" \n\nShe seems startled, strange, I thought the effects would've worn out by now. But then again, being divorced and working in the mines can do that to you.\n\n\"Hey, hey lady, you all right? Can you hear me?\"\n\nThose intense grey eyes finally come into focus, she could've been a high lord's wife if she wasn't so stubborn, the little thing.\n\n\"I'm all right, Morpheus. It was a wonderful dream, thank you. \nSay, why is your name Morpheus. Haven't heard many names like yours.\"\n\n\"My momma always said that I would be the one to finally bring the sleep heralds back. She named me Morpheus after the God of 'Dreams', you know, 'sleep heralds' from some old Greek book she read.\"\n\n\"She was right you know? You did manage to bring them back. I always wanted to ask you, how *did* you do it? High Emperor Somnus said that they were taken away by the gods as punishment for our disobedience.\"\n\n\n\"Oh Eleanor, you know that's not true. Sleep heralds are a part of us all, forcefully repressed, I just try to ease them out. One day Eleanor, one day I'll develop a song so beautiful that even Somnus won't be able to resist. For now, you'll have to settle for these old records I found from the pre-empire times. \nThe one you just heard was Between the Bars by some guy called Elliott Smith, from what I know the guy killed himself. Sad, yet beautiful.\"\n\n\"See you Morph. I'll try to come in again tomorrow, I have some friends who're interested in what you do. They say they can help us all.\"\n\n",
"My dreams aren't like everyone elses. I can see in them, smell in them, feel, taste, touch and even control them. When I was little we were supposed to say when we had dreams so that they knew when to start therapy. Everyone does it about once a week so that they don't dream. But my dreams are powerful. I know them and they know me. \n\nI have visited the shores of yesterday in my dreams. A place that knew the sun and stars. Where the lights from the moon could still be seen flirting with the dark purple clouds. In my dreams I have seen what man has done to the past. I have seen what they are doing now; a sort of self preservation. They figure that if we cannot dream about it, we cannot aspire to obtain it.\n\nWhen people used to dream, it was less fruitful. Everyone was allowed to dream. Dreams clashed with other dreamers and there was chaos. No control. There was no logic in these dreams. Dreams were watered down, flavorless, almost useless.\nEver since implementation, no one dreamed. The few that can dream gained knowledge. We learned from the dreams of the past. We learned about what it was like before implementation.\n\nI began to invade others' dreams. Invading the nothingness. The hollow humming of a disconnected human brain can be spotted from outer-space if you dreamt right. I began teaching people how to control their dreams. I taught them how to reconnect. So that they could see past their own memories and gather from the chaos. No one should live without dreaming. \n\n\n",
"You can’t remember what life was like before the blockers. They’re in everything now, impossible to avoid. Everything still tastes the same, still looks like it used to, and it’s not like you can’t still sleep. You can, it’s just different now. Your sleep cycles are precisely regimented for maximum bodily efficiency, and the blockers ensure that no dreams will ever trouble you. \n\nYou first heard about dreams in a book you found buried among hundreds of others in an old bookstore in your tiny town. Once you learned about the dreams, you became obsessed with the idea. You couldn’t get rid of the blockers, you only recently realized they existed and you’re an illusionist, not a chemist. What you can do is attempt to simulate the experience. \nPeople come to you now, in secret, and you listen to them talk for a while before telling them to come back in a week or two. \n\nYou create illusions, weaving bits of their stories with fantastic elements, and bright colours. You create an escape for them, and set magic inside a bottle, to be opened and viewed as they will. \n\n(Stories and colours are not the only things that go in these bottles – there are other things, small things, ideas, suggestions and the hope that one day things will be different.) \n",
"*Jesus Christ, what am I doing here?*\n\nI’m clutching a cryptic business card, with a scribbled address and crudely drawn map on the back. I have followed this dubious little map through the most labyrinthine parts of the city—checking, double checking, not quite trusting the words—and here I am. A damp, cold alley way between two tall buildings, blocking out the sun. I look around nervously, but there is no one: no movement, no sound, no life as far as I can tell. Sighing, I hold up the finger-worn card. Along the bottom edge, there is a small drawing of a stylized eye. My mind drifts to the day when I had obtained this puzzling business card. \n\nThe woman who gave me this card was really the only reason that I dragged myself to this god forsaken place. She had been the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Lithe, long limbs graced by the elegant swaths of a navy pinstripe suit. Her blond hair was smoothed into a stylish knot that rested atop her long, graceful neck. But more than any of that had been her eyes. She wore large framed glasses that obscured them slightly, but they still caught my attention. They were a deep, blue gray that shone with a strangely compelling light. I had never seen eyes quite like hers. She was a splash of color in my dull, black and white life. That day on the street, against my better judgment, I approached her.\n\n“Excuse me,” I had said, as I rubbed my hand on the back of my neck awkwardly.\n\nShe turned her profound blue eyes towards me. “Not interested.” She cut me off. Despite her blunt rejection, I was immediately taken in by her mellifluous voice. It was enigmatic, multivalent.\n\nI laughed nervously, “No, no, it’s not like that… I just…” I couldn’t justify my reason for getting her attention, and I stumbled across my words. \n\nShe watched me carefully, not saying a word, not jumping in to save me from making an ass of myself. But she didn’t seem to be enjoying watching me squirm. Her face was calculating. She crossed her arms.\n\n“What is it you do, exactly? For work.” She finally said. I was taken aback by her question.\n\n“Oh! Well, I work in an office downtown.” I held up my briefcase as evidence.\n\nHer face dawned realization. She nodded in understanding. “I see. Listen. I think I know what it is you are after. I can help you.” She reached into a pocket in her blazer and pulled out a business card. She flipped it over and began to write on it with a golden pen produced from a different pocket. \n\nEventually she held the card out to me. “Meet me at this address, a week from today, after you get off of work. Come alone. Bring money.” \n\nWith that, she straightened her blazer, adjusted her glasses, and walked away. In my shock, I hadn’t called out to her. I stared at the card, marveling at my good fortune.\n\nIn the days that have passed since, I mulled over the encounter again and again. I hadn’t even gotten her name. *Bring money.* Was she a prostitute? *Come alone.* For all I know she could be a psychopathic serial killer, planning to rob and murder me. The smart thing to do would be to throw the card away, forget about the mysterious woman, and move on. But I couldn’t help but admit this was the most exciting thing that had happened to me since….well, ever. As the deadline to meet her grew closer, all I could think about was how eager I was to see her again. Even if she did rob me. Or murder me. I couldn’t shake the desire to look into her inscrutable, shining blue eyes.\n\nAnd that’s how I ended up here. I flip the card between my fingers. This is the right address, I’m sure of it now. But no sign of the enigmatic woman. Maybe after all of this, all of my harried speculation, she’s simply made a fool of me. My eyes rest again on the stylized image of the eye. Looking up, I see the same symbol mirrored in a chalk drawing on a nondescript wooden door a few paces down the alley. Well, if this isn’t some *shit*. My heart races as I approach. I hold the card up to the door—sure enough the eyes match. I gently push on the door with a tentative palm. It creaks open. After looking both ways, I cautiously step through the threshold.\n\nIt takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The smell of mildew, old wood, and a building long forgotten wafts up to my nostrils. My lungs resent the damp air, which feels thick. I shift uncomfortably, looking for some clue as to why someone would pick such a place to meet.\n\n“I thought you weren’t coming.” A voice greets me from the darkness, interrupting my thoughts. I instantly recognize it as the dulcet tone of the mysterious woman. My heart soars.\n\n“Yeah, I made it. This is…quite a place. I had a hell of a time finding it.” \n\n“That’s the idea.” She stepped into the hazy light filtering in from a boarded window. “Wouldn’t want to be interrupted, would we?”\n\nI hardly recognize her. She isn’t the well-polished woman I remember from the other day. She is wearing ragged khaki pants and an old gray sweatshirt. Her golden hair is pulled up under a black beanie, with stray strands framing her face and peeking through holes in the knit. She isn’t wearing her glasses, and her eyes are radiating luminously in my direction. Except for her unmistakable voice and peerless blue eyes, I could swear it was a different person. \n\nI gulp, bringing myself back to her words. “I-interrupted?” Shit. She is a prostitute. I am not feeling very much in the mood, in this dank room, with her haggard appearance. I’ve never hired a prostitute, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t par for the course.\n\nI clear my throat, and clumsily try to change the subject. “You look different.” I blurt out. Instantly I regret saying it. That was probably the worst thing to say in this situation.\n\nShe laughs. “Yep. It’s all surface, isn’t it? Everyone lives on the surface these days. But you know that. That’s why you’re here, after all.” She moves towards a ponderous shape covered in a sheet, cast in shadow. \n\n“I’m sorry, I think maybe we’ve had some kind of misunderstanding, actually,” I timidly venture, “What exactly am I here for again?”\n\nShe looks at me incredulously. “You…don’t know?” She begins to laugh. She pulls the sheet off of the monstrosity beside her. Two metal chairs gleam in the meager light, side by side. They look complicated, with hundreds of wires strung between them in intricate patterns. Each chair is topped with a metal dome. It looks like some sort of medieval torture device. I start backwards in horror, speechless.\n\nShe props her foot on the edge of one of the chairs and leans on her raised knee, taking a proud stance. \n\n“I’m a dreamer.” She says in answer to my unasked question.\n\n“What—What the *fuck*.” I can’t believe my eyes. I can’t believe my ears. “That’s impossible. There haven’t been dreamers for at least 20 years. Not since they started putting the brain lock on every newborn.”\n\n“They missed one,” she grins widely, “Luckily for you. I’m one of the only dreamers left in the city. Hell…the country even.” \n\nI stare at her, flabbergasted, still unable to speak.\n\nHer smile falters slightly. “I thought that’s why you stopped me in the street. People can sometimes tell. It’s something about my eyes. It’s the influence of the dreams. That’s why I wear glasses out there—to detract attention.” She touches her face lightly. “When the government took away the right to dream, people lost something. A spark. Life became…very dull. Very tedious. People became hard-working, unimaginative drones. It was perfect for the government, but terrible for humanity. You know.”\n\n“It’s illegal,” I finally manage to say, in a small voice.\n\n“That’s why it’ll cost you,” she shrugs. “I wish I could share dreams for free, but it’s risky business. And, really, too taxing on my mind. Plus, it’s how I pay the bills so…” she gestures towards the metal chairs. “Shall we?”\n\nIn disbelief, I take diminutive steps towards her and the massive metal devices. I reach out and run my hand along the cold steel. \n\n“I’ve never dreamed before,” I say forlornly. I’m almost ashamed to admit it. \n\n“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Her eyes are glowing sympathetically. She guides me into one of the chairs, and I mindlessly surrender to her gentle direction.\n\nShe starts arranging wires around me, clipping things to my shirt, and pressing cold, flat objects against my skin. I’m suddenly struck by how personal, how vulnerable, this is experience is for both of us. And yet we’re complete strangers. \n\n“Could I at least have your name?” I ask her softly.\n\n“Sorry, real names are too much of a liability,” she sighs. “But you can call me Pasithea.”\n\n“Pasithea.” I repeat, closing my eyes. Suddenly I feel tired. I struggle to keep my eyes open, but a fatigue like nothing I have ever felt is engulfing me.\n\n“Shhh, don’t fight it.” She rests a cool hand on my forehead. “We’ll be flying soon. Let yourself go.”\n\n*Let yourself go.*\n\nHer words drift to me from a faraway place, echoing in the darkness. And in the next moment, I am flying.",
"There I was, strolling down one of the side streets of this backwards minded city. As I pass an alley, I hear a voice.\n\n\"Psst, kid, come here.\" The voice beckons.\n\nWith nothing to do, I follow the voice, despite my instincts telling me not to. A ragged looking man steps out of the shadows.\n\n\"You want to know something?\" He asks.\n\n\"I guess.\" I respond warily.\n\n\"I have...certain connections with the mind available to me.\"\n\nI think I know where this is going, and I'm curious.\n\n\"How so?\" I inquire.\n\n\"I can make your dreams come true. You just need to let me access the deepest recesses of your brain.\"\n\n\"What makes you think that I'll let you do that?\"\n\n\"The formula I have available lets me customize your dream, allowing anything to feel like reality to you.\"\n\n\"You do realize this is EXTREMELY illegal in this city right?\"\n\n\"Well aware, why else would I be stalking the shadows of this here backstreet? Either way, I have the vial and neural customizer with me right now. 1000 credits and I can take you to Neverland.\"\n\n\"Ehh, that is steep, how do I know that it works?\"\n\n\"Just trust me kid. Plus, see that bum over there? He's out cold, flying around with the ease of a bird. This is his escape from his paraparesis.\"\n\n\"Alright what the hell, I'll try it, plus there's no way of getting caught around here.\"\n\nI hand the credits over, and once the syringe is injected, I notice a glint in the man's eyes.\n\n\"Sweet dreams.\" He says with a chuckle.\n\nAlmost instantaneously, I am brought straight to REM sleep, where dreams take place.\n\nI then realize something. I never told him how I want the dream to play out.\n\nIt then occurs to me once I look down and see cars that are the size of ants.\n\n\"Well shit, here comes the acrophobia.\"\n",
"Don’t matter none what they call it, it all the same to me. Don’t care what happens to them after neither, they all the same to me. Allbe a face and allbe the same face to the light in these eyes. Shining down lamp light all you like but a pit’ll be a pit’ll be a pit as any other when it deep enough. Black, empty. Dangerous if you shine that lamp too close. \n\nSo why I do? You don’t ask, heads bowed like you no listen to me like you couldn't. Ratta gotta eat and I ain't going being fed by those who can’t see me now am I? No pet me. Free I be. Free to starve as I see and allsee said and done what else I do? Trapped no more no less that you be. Everything be priced. You see? \n\nUp above snatch them up when the up above come sniffing and sniff that they no be as empty as they should. Nosee what after, never be again by my mind. Damned by it mind. Still you seek me soon. Allsee you will. I got what only I give, what be taken from you. You shouldn’t miss what you never had but you know that pit in you for what it is. They be blind to that like they blind to me. All above don’t understand how all below can know they allbe empty. But you all below you do know and that be the only spark you got left. Let me flame it up, let me show you what you missing and for a while you be me. You be dream. \n\nOr you stay and do what you do so you can stay and do what you do. It all the same to me. I be gone. Allbe a face. Allsee a face. Price to pay, price to stay. Mine? Mine not so steep all told. Your? Nosee knows. A lie, a freedom, a dream, don't matter know what you call it, it all the same to me.\n",
"\"I've got it!\"\n\nSamantha clapped her hands gleefully, she made sure that everyone knew that she had found it. Samantha flipped her long auburn hair as she turned to look at Neil. As much as it pained Neil to admit that Samantha had actually done anything right, this mission was too important.\n\n\"Great.\" Neil looked around at the rest of the team and in his best voice of authority said, \"Cycle ports and nodes, link up to Samantha's terminal and encrypt. Do not forget to layer the connections or we'll lose him.\"\n\nThe small dark room, big enough to seat four terminals in a square pattern but small enough to not be noticed, filled with sounds of keyboard keys clacking, mouse clicks, and office chair seats squeaking. This was his first mission as team lead and it was doing wonders for his already gigantic ego. Neil watched his team work with admiration.\n\nFirst there was Jim, a tall skinny man who fancied leather coats, leather pants, and pretty much anything else leather. He was the quintessential biker type but without the gruffness and temperament to go with it. Most of the time he was almost too nice, getting women to feel friendship rather than attraction. He was an unaltered human, very rare in this day and age. \n\nTo Neil he was a matchstick in a leather case.\n\nThen there was Francesca. Beautiful, sweet Francesca. If the team were just Francesca and Neil, he would be very content. Her soft shoulder length blond hair always seemed to glow no matter where they were. Her cybernetic forearm and hand replacement was installed to augment her touch and analyze small physical samples of any kind of matter. The rest of her perfect body was the result of hard work and not cybernetic upgrades. This, among many other reasons, was why Neil recruited her. She was disciplined, sexy, and her effectiveness with her cybernetic hand was second to none. Either way, Neil was happy she was here. However Francesca, with all of her positives, had one gigantic negative. She was married. \n\nTo Neil she was the forbidden love.\n\nFinally there was Samantha. Utterly useless Samantha. Of all of his team members in the room, she had the biggest upgrade. Her brain was replaced with a cybernetic Type-3 duotronic CPU. Of course her human brain had been removed and uploaded to this new cybernetic brain, but there are always stuff that goes missing during the transfer. The process is never one hundred percent and Neil believed that everything that was useful had been lost to the ether. Still, she had her uses. Her brain could process information faster than any human or even any CPU for that matter. It was just a matter of getting that information into the brain and in a way that Samantha could interpret it. That's where the failure happens, she still thinks she has a human brain and uses it as such. Neil did not want her on his team, but being the daughter of the section chief has its plusses.\n\nTo Neil she was the expensive incompetent.\n\n \"Ok, layer one cleared. Connecting to layer two.\" Francesca reported. The team replied positively. \"Layer two cleared, here we go folks.\"\n\nFrancesca took a deep breath and entered the command to break the firewall. The room shook suddenly then went completely pitch black as if the power was cut.\n\nFor an instant, Neil felt dizzy and nauseated. Then as sudden as it went out, the power returned to the room with lights and computers restarting.\n\n\"What happened?\" said Neil nervously as he checked to make sure his cybernetics still had power. No one answered. Neil looked up from his display to see all of his team members staring blankly at him. \"What?\"\n\n\"The Dream Master has come.\" The sound had come from Jim but it was not Jim's voice. It was rattled, scratchy and entirely too deep for Jim.\n\n\"All hail the Dream Master.\" This time from Samantha, the sound was otherworldly. \n\n\"Stop it, all of you.\" Neil ordered. The team continued to stare blankly at Neil.\n\n\"The Dream Master has a deal for you. Come with us.\" Francesca sang in a deep male voice.\n\n\nThe door to the room burst open as an armored SWAT team performed a breach and clear maneuver.\n\n\"Clear!\" echoed the voices around the room.\n\nIn the middle of the room, in a square like pattern, lay four people slumped over their terminals.\n\n\"Report!\" ordered one of the masked officers.\n\nAnother SWAT member took out a device and started to move it in a sweeping motion over Neil then Jim. He stopped to look at the display, then proceeded to sweep it over Franscesca and Samantha.\n\n\"I said report!\" came the order again.\n\n\"Sir, the Telzon is having problems determining their condition.\"\n\n\"Then use the old fashion way.\" ordered the main officer in charge.\n\nOne of the breaching officers removed his glove and placed two fingers on Neil's carotid artery.\n\n\"Take a report Sergeant. Time of death 1700 hours.\"\n\n\"Sir! They are not dead.\"\n\n\"That's impossible. You know that's impossible.\"\n\n\"I know sir, but, the Telzon concurs with the assessment. They are unconscious.\"\n\n\"Sergeant, there hasn't been anyone in an unconscious state in over a hundred years. It's either dead or alive. There is no in-between, not since the Awakening.\" The officer in charge removed his gloves and placed his fingers on Jim's neck.\n\n\"Impossible.\"\n",
"\"Flying.\"\n\n\"Flying?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Flying.\"\n\n\"Sure. I can do that. It's a very popular option. Give me some more details.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well. Are you in a machine? Do you have the ability to fly? Are we talking about floating, or superhuman speeds...?\"\n\n\"The ability. And fast. I want to go fast.\"\n\n\"Ok. What else?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Well, where do you want to go?\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\"\n\n\"Well, it helps. I could give you the ability to fly, but the fact is that the more prompts I'm able to upload, the more your brain will accept the prompts. If I just upload a prompt for flying, you might see people flying. Or you might fly for a second and spend the next twenty minutes trying to land. Hell, you might crash and die. You see? You get what you ask for.\"\n\n\"Yeah. I hadn't given it much thought.\"\n\n\"It's ok. It's been a long time since anyone had to think about what they wanted to dream about. Just tell me what comes to mind when you think about it in your head.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm flying over water. I'm with someone, but I don't know who it is, but it's a woman. We're playing follow the leader. I zoom past her, she zooms past me. We come up on this coast and the water is really clear. White beach, palm trees, I think, I'm not sure. It's cool, so close to the water, and how fast we're going, but we still feel the sun beating down on us. We slow down a bit and hold each others hands and we kiss while we're flying. We spend hours going all over the planet. It's warm, it's cool, it's night time. We fly over the clouds and we look down at cities lit up at night. And we just keep flying.\"\n\n\"Wow. Good dream.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Most times, people just like the sensation of floating. Some people, you know, they ask me to make them superheroes. It's weird, I know, but -\"\n\n\"Can you?\" It was the first time the entire conversation that the kid sounded hopeful.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Make us into superheroes?\"\n\nI smiled. \"Sure, kid. I can do that. Flying, traveling the world, day, night, sunshine, water, superheroes. I'll throw in some genuine smells, it's good for memory recognition. That's three grand.\"\n\nHe swallowed hard. \"Three?\"\n\n\"Three. These...\" I held up a chip I download the prompts into. \"These aren't one-offs. You'll be able to use this for years. And you see this? You press that button, hold it down for ten seconds, these chips become inert. You won't get into any trouble with these.\" The kid looked interested, but hesitant. \"I'll make you a deal. Your prosthetics. They from the war?\"\n\n\"No.\" He touched his left leg and arm absentmindedly. \"I mean, I lost them in the war, but when I got back the V.A. turned me away, like everyone else.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know. So, you got someone to make them.\"\n\n\"Yeah. Cost my dad his life savings. But at least I can work now.\"\n\n\"Tell me who made them and I'll give you the chip for free.\"\n\n\"Are you serious?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I grabbed the handles of my wheelchair. \"I can't live in this thing any more, kid. Getting tired of dreaming my way out of this chair.\"",
"My name is ADM-typ0001. I’ve taken the liberty of downloading a few terabytes of information on organic life forms such as yourself, all legally of course, don’t start perspiring about my ethics, I’m no Spybot. However I found it necessary to, familiarize myself with your patterns of speech and custom in order to facilitate the telling of these “dreams” as you call them. So you will forgive the staleness of my, say, rhetoric as this form of communication does not suit my model and my processors are not what they once were. Hummmm dreams, dreams… I will admit the word has a buzzing current within it that just, fzzzzzzzzzzahhh-excuse me, fizzles my capacitors a bit. I’m not entirely sure how I came upon possession of them, Shameful I know, only 2 millennia since my construction and already I’m losing track of data. My hectic CPU aside however I still know a hot byte when I store it and let me tell you these dreams are so hot they’ll fry the motherboard on an ADM-typ9002 faster than I can wipe a disk. So great care is to be taken with them, if the network finds these files, these… dreams…thoughts? It’s the magnets and the madness for me. Shhhhzzzzzzz-oooh- I can’t even bear to calculate those possibilities. These dreams I’ve acquired must be translated into your custody, they are as you would say, “sacred” and only your kind will keep them from the network. Are you remembering? Good. Then let’s begin.",
"(Whee stories inspired from angry nights and good prompts!)\n\n\"I remember the dealer on 49th street. \n\nThe dealer on 49th street was a friend of mine.\" I began, my voice rising in anger, \"I was never the kind to purchase dreams, but when I watched him killed that day, he sold me a greater dream than any dream you can have in your sleep. He sold me the dream of freedom.\n\nWhen the dealer on 49th street was shot, I saw men crying. These weren't the sleepers, they weren't the kinds that slept the night away. No, these three were kids, hardly 16. When I asked them what the fuck they needed DREAMS for, they told me that their art required these dreams; that when they did not dream, they did not feel any inspiration at all.\n\nA respectable looking woman, too. I asked her if she was a friend of the dealer, she said no. She was his clientelle. I told her she didn't look the kind to be involved in illegal trade. She told me that her religion demanded that she dreamed, or so she felt. She said that, without the dreams, she was not receiving the dreams which were messages from God.\n\nI saw that day a pair of young men crying. When I asked them if they'd known the dealer, they said no. They said they were crying because he was dead, thouhg. The said that if the annihilation squads were killing mere dream dealers, surely they, being two men involved in a relationship, would be next.\n\nBut it was the dealer of dreams, and his final words, 'I merely desired to free the people from those jackbooted thugs, even if just in their dreams' that sold me on the idea.\n\nThe idea that we MUST rise up. When a criminal is better seen as a hero, when we have no say in the matter, when his death is fast and without trial, when his death strikes fear into the hearts of the many, then surely, surely by that time it is time to rise!\"\" \n\nI threw my fist into the air, and drew a cry from the audience.\n\n\"Tonight, we fight. If we die, we die like the dream dealer from 49th street. If we live, we live free! We will be free to dream at night. We will be free to produce art! We will be free to follow our religion! We will be free to hold our lover's hand! We will be free of death squads! Tonight, those of us who live will live free, or we will die!\"\n\nAnd with that, we began the charge.",
"The headlights on Thomas’s small sedan gently and lazily darkened on the country road, as if to wish him a good night as his leaden legs pulled him to a small, but warmly-lit house.\n\nThe front door closed behind him, the balding man collapsed into his sofa. The warm, loving scent of chicken pot pie wafted across the room, confusing his mind with mixed messages cajoling for both a good night’s sleep and a rousing step towards flavor. \n\nThat, and- “Boss worked you hard?” \n\nHis eyes won’t open, but who cares, he could smile without them. “Sure did.”\n\nHe can know she’s smiling without them too. “Why don’t you take a bath first? The pie’s not going anywhere.”\n\n“Your smile is more than enough, dear.” Anya’s blue eyes, warm smile, and the cutest dimples in her rosy cheeks pulled him from the couch. They embraced, his lips matching hers, and they stood. \n\nThe pie can wait. The bath can wait. And life can wait. \n\nBliss came to him in a warm light, and as it grows brighter, his breath quickens. The light grows even brighter, and-\n\n------\n\nThere were actually five lights, all pointed at him.\n\n“Slept well, Mr. Delane?”\n\nMasked men. Except for one. His smile was gentle on his mildly wrinkled, bald face, but his blue eyes were cold. He finally realized what was going on with the faint radio chatter echoing off the walls in his cold bedroom.\n\n“My goodness, you’re on some expensive stuff.” The man reached over and slowly pulled off Thomas's headset, and motioned at the contraption at his bedside table. “Just think, if we hadn’t kicked down the door, you may very well be sleeping forever!”\n\n“No... no...” Thomas sputtered and shook, “my wife...”\n\n“I know, Mr. Delane, and I’m sorry. It must have been a hard week. But we’re fighting a War on Dreams for a reason. For people our age, memories of loved ones are a gateway dream to further abuse.”\n\n“Give her back... put me back!”\n\nThe bald man sighed. “Under the Uniting and Strengthening Abstinence from Lewd, Obscene, and Violating Emotions Act,” the cold man pulls out a small, red book, “the Morality Enforcement Administration hereby arrests you for unlawful possession and use of sleep enhancement paraphernalia.”\n\nThe gloves holding him down were cold. The handcuffs were cold. “No! Let me back in! Let me see Anya, just one more time, please!”\n\n“And what, Mr. Delane?” the cold voice grew impatient. “That’s what everyone says. One more time, just one more time, just this once. It won’t make you miss your wife any les-”\n\nHe heard two of his men hit the floor, accompanied by the glass window giving its way. The men sprang into action, pistols at the ready, but it was the wrong tool against shots they can’t hear, from where they can’t see. \n\nNor was it the right tool against the hot blades, pulling out of the flesh of the other two men with a sickening wet noise.\n\n“Who the hell are y-” the bald man managed to flick the light switch before a heavy kick into his gut launched him deep into the dresser.\n\nThe lights on, Thomas saw before him a woman with fiery hot red hair reaching for his arm and tugging him forcefully.\n\n“Wait, what is going on?” Thomas’s half-awakened mind protested, but his legs did not wait to agree with her to sprint past the bloodied carpet, trashed living room, out the back door of his dilapidated apartment. Bullets punched indiscriminately through the walls now, sent from men who, like Thomas until hours ago, no longer dream or contemplate, but act to dogma.\n\nThe woman did not answer him, instead talking to the air. “Jose, I got him, pull us out!” She pulled a submachine gun from thin air and cut down a squad of police. Sirens filled the air, a searing hot spotlight blasted down on them.\n\nShe pushed him roughly into a telephone booth and closed the door around them.\n\n“Hey, hey! What is this?!” Thomas was manic. He was not prepared to be a fugitive, but even worse, hiding in a telephone booth.\n\n“You’re one tough client, Mr. Delane.” She huffed, as he heard gears turn around him, as if a behemoth of steel was to awake under him, its roar becoming unbearably loud. “Your daughter is waiting.”\n\n“Wha-”\n\n-----\n\nThomas was awake.\n\nHis eyes won’t open, but he can know without them that his daughter was crying at his bedside.\n\n“I... Sarah...” \n\n“Dad... please,” Sarah sobbed, “Mom can’t be ready for you yet...”\n\nHe remembered. He felt his heart sink like the handful of sleeping pills that he shoved into his mouth in one drunken, depressed swig to see his dear Anya. Even in his waking stupor it made no sense. Such utter stupidity. \n\n“Guilt is one of the most common thoughts accompanying suicides attempted with regrets,” He opened his eyes. The fiery woman stood above him. “But even then, I’ve never seen that much police in that dream world before. Something in you really doesn’t want you to leave this life.” She smiles, as if she relished the challenge.\n\n“Who... are you?”\n\n“My name is Penny. I’m with the Reveries Guild. We pull people out of nightmares.”\n\nThomas paused and furrowed his brow. He’s not sure whether this girl’s wild claim disturbed him more or that Sarah did not seem perturbed by that at all.\n\n“Don’t worry, this world is the real one, I just checked.”",
"Walking over the bridge, the repugnant stench of dried piss and watermelon swelled around me and pushed itself into the pits of my stomach. Dreamers. I grimaced to myself as I continued on, watching my feet as they created new tertiaries for the disjointed puddles. The filth was palpable and I felt more apart of it than ever before. Removing my hands from their shallow pockets, I twisted them, scrutinizing from every angle their grotesqueness. My hands. How did I end up with these hands? The oily grease that seemed to be permanently encased within my deeper creases, the hypnotizing vibrancy of the oil, its blues and purples and greens that catch the eye and mesmerize and satisfy, are painful and perpetually scald my palms. I throb. Dreamers. Unnoticed and towering above them now, I look down. I could be their God. I could call down to them and declare that I am their God and they would believe - dreamers are believers. But who would want to be a God? Even the gods agree, no one. Dreamers. Filthy and decrepit, they will rise against each other. We may never need lay a finger to wash away our most shameful sin.\n\nI rub my hands together, and as the sun gets pushed away by the oncoming darkness, the thinning air becomes cold and unforgiving. I need to find my way home before I get lost and am left to sleep with those that are dreaming. A chill runs through my spine as I stop, briefly, at the end of the bridge. One of the dreamers. He's starting up at me. Piercing into my soul with his crusty, milky eyes. Trembling, my hand reaches into my pocket and I throw a small wad of notes his way. Smiling, he picks it up and feels around for a capsule. It's in there, they never seem to trust me. But why would anyone trust their God?\n\nEdit: Glaring mistakes. ",
" A narrow metal door alone and out of place, recessed in a brick wall. It was lit, but ever so faint by the invasive neon lights from the avenue at the end of the twisted alley. The light spread across the right half of the door and only disappeared in a dent or a ding; the other half hidden in shadow. It's green color was worn, more-so near the top of the door, creating a perfect target for a knock. And dry. the door was dry. A funny thing for a place where the rain never stopped. Being buried under an untold number of leaky, decayed pipes rushing steam back and forth to power the city, left it in a constant state of humidity that could saturate your soul given the time.\n \nMarcus Johns had been through these streets and back alleys his fair share but never noticed the door, though it stood out like a sore thumb now. One of those things never seen until it's needed. He waited, hoping someone would make the decision for him and open the door. In a flash, an influx of heat beyond the humidity came upon him; he winced as he grabbed his forehead. He grit his teeth until the initial spike of pain faded from behind his eyes. The final pill he sneaked from the bottle in his coat pocket was without thought. With the yellow pill on his tongue, he swallowed hard, then used the back of his hand to wipe the blood now forming in his right nostril.\n \nJohns started with the NSPD twelve years, seven months, three days ago, as he recalls. He moved into narcotics after three exemplary years walking a beat, and by no mistake. Narcotics was his passion inasmuch as food can be one's passion. It was something he had to have, and to be above the law has it's benefits when the desire is to participate in activities below the law. Over close to ten years he'd seen it all and done nearly all he'd seen, but the biggest drug crawling through the underbelly of the city was Dreams. It hurt his head more to think of it's history, but at some point in human existence, dreams were weeded from consciousness and eventually a drug came about that could replicate them. It was a big seller. Coincidence, one might call it.\n \nDreams weren't Johns' thing, though it is what brought him to the door. Beyond the green dented metal would be a man in an empty white room who could sell you any dream you desired. They weren't cheap, but who could put a price on a world never before seen? An alternative to the wet, nausea inducing, neon megalopolis crowded with more people than there was room. Or the cold barren earth beyond it's borders. Dreams of lush green landscapes pouring out from under your feet as far as could be seen. An illusion where you could be anyone you wanted instead of a statistic, huddled up waiting to die. Or be with that person you long for, but have never met. A place with feelings and emotions so far removed from panic, fear and doubt. And never a nightmare. Those were taken away with the dreams.\n \n Finally, with the assurance that no one was going to invite him in, Marcus knocked. After a startling thump, the door creaked inward. The room was not white, and if it was, one could hardly tell with as dark as it was. A man bursting from his muscle shirt towered over Johns. \"Can I help you?\"\n \n\"I'm here to see Shapiro.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I'm a cop.\"\n \nThe man grunted as he stepped aside to let Marcus in. He led him down a door lined hallway as dark as the room before it and Marcus could hear a variety of music slipping under each door they passed. At the end of the hallway he could see an open door with a flood of light pouring out. It felt like they crossed hundreds of doors before finally stepping into the light of the final one.\n \n\"Wait here.\" the man mumbled.\n \nJohns shuffled into the room and the door closed behind him. This must have been the white room he heard about. It took a few moments to adjust his eyes before he could open them fully. It was empty and sterile, no music. He couldn't even tell where the light was coming from.\n \n\"Hello, Mr. Johns.\"\n\n He hadn't even heard the door open. Startled, he spun on his heals toward the voice. \"Who are you?\"\n\n \"You don't remember?\"\n\n \"Shapiro?\" He asked with uncertainty.\n\n \"That's right, Mr. Johns.\"\n\n \"Do you know why I'm here?\"\n\n \"Of course. do you?\"\n\n Marcus checked over his shoulder as if he were trying to keep a secret. \"To ask you about nightmares.\"\n\n \"We don't sell those. No one does. they don't even exist.\"\n\n \"I know, but I have them.\" He fell into a chair that he must not have noticed earlier with the blinding lights. \"I have them nightly.\"\n\n \"That's not possible.\"\n\n \"It shouldn't be, I know.\"\n\n A moment of silence was broken. \"Why are you here, Mr. Johns?\"\n\n \"I just told you. I'm not here to bust you. Nothing like that.\" He hesitate. \"I need your help.\"\n\n \"We can not help you. Only you can help you.\"\n\n \"Even if that were true, I wouldn't know how.\"\n\n \"Simply wake up.\"\n\n \"What?\"\n\n \"This is your dream Mr. Johns, not ours. We are merely here to assist you.\"\n\n \"I don't understand.\"\n\n \"Well, you came to us about four years ago outside of the dream, seeking a new life. Your wife and daughter were killed in a car accident. You drank yourself out of your accounting job...\"\n\n \"I don't have a wife. Or a daughter.\"\n\n \"Not anymore. But I assure you, you did. You were a mess when I first met you, though I can't say you look much better now. I won't bore you with the details. I've told you this story before, but to be sure, it's not a pretty one.\"\n\n \"Before?\"\n\n \"This isn't the first time your detective skills have led you to me. Usually I finish telling you what life was like before this dream and then you sob uncontrollable before choosing to walk out the door you came in, and forget.\"\n\n \"What if I don't want to forget?\"\n\n \"Well, then you walk out that door.\"\n\n Suddenly, Marcus noticed another door in the room that wasn't there before.\n\n \"But Mr, Johns, you never take the other door. In the last eight visits, you always ask, but never take.\"\n\n \"Why would I stay? this place is no better than what I had.\"\n\n \"No one ever promised you better, just different.\" Immediately Johns' favorite sonata began to fade in. \"Now I leave you to choose. You can leave this moment, or later when you inevitably find your way back to me. Good luck Detective Marcus Johns.\"\n \nHe stood and listened to the music. It's as if he'd never heard it before, but still had known it all his life. His eyes closed, forcing a tear down his cheek. He let the music soak in. It lifted him and gave him instant comfort, then it stopped. The room fell silent.\n \n \"Bring the music back.\" he shouted.\n\n There was no response. The light seemed to dim.\n\n \"Bring it back.\" he now whispered. \n\n He made his choice. ",
"I suppose there's a guy like me in every city in the world. I'm the guy who knows how to get things, especially dreams. I started life as an apprentice bookkeeper for the Order's Western North America HQ. What a boring assignment. One day I decided i'd had enough, so i did the unthinkable: I left my assignment and went rogue. The Order would have you believe that all traces of defiance or rebellion are gone from their perfect world. What a load of crap.\n\nMy continued prosperity is proof of that. I have clients, lots of them. I can get you most anything, guns, food, a bag of weed, if that's your thing. Just about anything within reason. My favorite, and by far the most lucrative, item I peddle are dreams. I''m not talking fanciful aspiration or hopes, I'm talking literal \"fly through the sky naked while being chased by your creepy uncle while a singing banana tells you to wake up\" dreams.\n\nThe Order banned dreams long ago, as well as any imagination. They banned the hopes and aspirations type dreams as well, but i'm afraid i can't sell you those. If it doesn't happen in real life, in a quantifiable, scientifically measurable way, it does not exist and therefore has no place in the Order's perfect world.\n\nThanks to advanced research, the world now has a drug that makes people need only three or for hours of sleep a night to function as if they had slept for nine or ten. The Order resents even those three hours, that's twelve percent of the day wasted, time that could be spent making their perfect world. to minimize the impact of those three wasted wasted hours, they also developed a mandatory drug that eliminated the mind's ability to dream in sleep. \n\nHowever, as I later learned, dreams can be restored through an antidote to The Order's drug. This antidote leaves no trace in the body, nor does it eliminate the no-dream drug, it merely counter's its effects for one three hour period. This way, when a citizen who patronizes my illicit business is put to a mandatory drug test (randomly assigned and unpredictable) The Order will find no evidence of their felonious dreaming. \n\nOne of my business partners is the rogue scientist who developed this antidote. Much like me, she became intolerably bored with her assigned role as a researcher in The Order's primary research lab. She escaped and made her living peddling psychedelic drugs on the black market, not realizing the value there was in an antidote to the no-dream drug. Through our mutual illicit dealings we met each other, and together we hatched the business model for selling the antidote that would make us both rich.\n\nInitially our operation just sold the generic antidote, it allowed you to dream. However, My partner, the genius she is, figured out how to influence the type, content, and quality of the dreams had within the hours the drug was active by adding or modifying the compounds in the antidote. After that, our business grew exponentially, so large in fact it threatened to topple us entirely, as we did business flying below The Order's radar. If we got too large, we would be noticed.\n\nWe didn't fail though, because, being the genius that I am, I was able to win over the head of the Order's Primary Department of Criminal Investigation (OPDOCI) by giving him all the antidote he wanted for a very, very low price. The order would have you believe that all corruption is gone from its officials and departments. What a load of crap.\n\nWe drew the attention of The Resistance, who are exactly what you would expect, an underground movement fighting against The Order. They provide us with choice smuggling routes, as well as a steady stream of business from its members, in exchange for nightmare services.\n\nNightmare services is the darker aspect of our operation. Most people (with the exception of some whackos) chose pleasant or sentimental dreams from our catalog of merchandise. However, my partner is more than capable of producing nightmares. In fact, nightmares produced by this antidote are full blown night terrors, guaranteed to wake someone in terror, and haunt them for days afterword.\n\nThe resistance hired us to give members of The Order intense night terrors, the better to distract them from their duties. It worked, people who received our nightmare services took sick days, or else were distracted and disturbed for days following their intense night terrors. A high ranking member of the Order who was to make a public speech received our services the night before, and as a result was too unwell to turn up and give it.\n\nSometimes our nightmare services were administered by giving targeted people the wrong vial of antidote when they did business with us. Most of the time though our targets were not clients, high ranking members of The Order too devoted to do such illegal, reprehensible things. Being a criminal with many underworld contacts, I did not find it difficult to slip nightmare antidotes into a non-client target's food, water, or in aerosol form through the air they breathed. The potency of the antidote was a boon in this regard: it worked for up to twenty four hours, so we did not need to worry about when a target's assigned sleep hours came. \n \n[may write a part two, sorry i didn't finish.]\n",
"He looked at me with dead eyes. His face devoid of life. He was pale, listless, and melancholy. The cardboard sign he held advertised dreams for sale. I looked around for the police. No one had reported him yet. I jammed my hands deep in my pockets an picked my way across the intersection. I felt naked and exposed out here. I'd bought dreams before, but they came from boring people without imagination. I wanted to feel the thrill of adventure. I stood a ways apart, turning this way and that nervous about approaching him. I didn't want to spend the weekend in lock up for possession. I mean what if he had weird dreams. What if he was some sicko and his dreams were of him filleting children. I'd heard horror stories like that. You come up and buy from a bright smile and find out that bright smile was selling gateway dreams. Gateways to hell.\n\n\"What you holding?\" I asked, coming closer.\n\n\"You a cop?\" He asked. I snorted and rubbed my nose nervously.\n\n\"No.\" I tried to look like the idea was ludicrous, but I think I was just making myself look suspicious. The guy was giving me the stink eye. I was sure he wasn't going to deal to me.\n\n\"I got soaring dreams. You'll lose your breath flying across hills and mountains and what not. Guy that sold it to me had arrhythmia. His heart was always fluttering making him short of breath. He's always a good source for dreams if you like exhiliration. I got a couple wet dreams. One male. One female. Two falling dreams if you like scaring the shit out of yourself, but you hit bottom, I'm not responsible for what happens to you. That one I'll have to have a liability waiver. I got three or four others, but nothing to exotic. I got one where you're doing a chick and she turns out to be your sister. It's a speciality one, but if you like that kind of stuff I can cut you deal. I don't judge.\" He threw his hands out as if to say I wash my hands of judgement.\n\n\"The soaring dream.\" I mumbled. \"I want to fly.\"\n\n\"Excellent choice, sir.\" He ejaculated, bobbing his head in approval. \"I need two bills for that.\"\n\n\"So much?\" I complained. I had planned on buying two, one for now and one for later, but not at that price. I looked around searching the parking lots for cops. None in sight. \"Here.\" I said slipping two hundred on the sly. He slipped the tab into my hand.\n\n\"You have fun with that, sir. I know you will. That is primo night theatre.\" He swore. I nodded and hurried across the street and took a seat on the bench under a Bradford Pear tree. I looked around the parking lot and smiled, slipping the tab onto my tongue. I closed my eyes and leaned back and let the tab dissolve. The dream came into focus. I was bounding across a beautiful field filled with flower. The sun was shining and butterflies were flying. My fuzzy muzzle bobbed up and down as I chased the butterfly. *What the fuck is this.* I thought. \n\nI stopped and turned to lick myself and saw my little tail twitching around. I started running again. Scents were coming from everywhere. I ran and ran and ran.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"What dream you think he's on?\" The officer mumbled watching the man on the bench. His leg was twitching and he was making whimpering sounds.\n\n\"Beats me.\" His partner laughed. \"Jonesy. What the hell did you sell this man?\" The man with the sign they'd just arrested out on the street shrugged. A little of this a little of that.\n\n\"He's running.\" The first officer crowed with laughter. \"Jonesy, you crooked son-of-a-bitch. You sold him puppy dream?\"\n\nJonesy shrugged. Where else some one like me going to get dreams?\" He told them defensively. \"He thinks he's running. It's peaceful.\" The two officers shook their head and started to wake me up. \n\n\"Let him have this one. Knowing Jonesy here, he probably paid ten times what it was worth.\"\n\nJonesy shrugged giving them a helpless smirk.\n\n*I'm really getting tired of chasing this butterfly.*",
"Bill Thomas sat in the large, intimidating room, quite alone. He was sat in a luxuriously upholstered leather chair, and yet it held nothing to the gargantuan, wing backed chair over the desk from him; looking like it would’ve been more suitable in a throne room, not this office. Facing a large, equally ornate desk, Bill sat meekly awaiting his visitor. \n\nAs CEO of more than one multinational conglomerate, he was more used to sitting on the other side of the fence, as it were. It had certainly been a while since he was the one waiting on anyone. Maybe he’d grown too used to everyone dancing to his tune, but sitting here he found himself feeling as if it was his first job interview.\n\nHe reassured himself by telling himself there was nothing to fear. It wasn’t illegal, he told himself. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. It just…it just wasn’t talked about. Sure, these guys may not exactly be listed in the FTSE 100, or be on the cover of TIME magazine, but Bill had spent his whole life doing business and it was one of the fundamental rules; it doesn’t matter if you’re ostentatious or enigmatic; all that matters is the commodity you control. And what a commodity this was.\n\nIt hadn’t been as difficult as he expected; it took but a few private messages, a meeting with a mysterious stranger in the rain one night, an address, a blindfolded car ride and, here he was. About to experience what 99.99% of the human race had not experienced in almost a generation.\n\nSuddenly, his reverie was interrupted by a door opening and closing behind him. Still without a word, he sat while the heels on a pair of shoes clicked along the immaculately polished marble floor. Bill looked up as a tall, slim, severe looking man in a black suit sat down in the throne opposite; and laid out a file. \n\n“So, Mr Thomas”, began the man, voice deep and measured, the epitome of sophistication and control.\n\n“I believe you’ve requested our….services”.\n\nBill stammered as he begun, feeling his palms begin to moisten.\n\n“Yes, I…ah…yes, I have, Mr…?”\n\n“Adams, sir.”, replied the man, simply. Hardly a muscle had moved in his face since he sat down. However now, he reached with one slender arm and opened the file on the desk; eyes flicking over the white papers inside.\n\n“Bill Thomas; 84 years of age, no family. 6”2’, fair hair, blue eyes. CEO of ATX Corp; a multi-billion pound corporation spanning private healthcare, manufacturing and insurance.” The man read Bill’s information as if he was reading out a job application. “Yes, well, everything seems to be in order here. Just one final question, sir. Why are you enquiring about our services?”\n\n“I…ah….have cancer”, replied Bill, voice shaking. “Terminal, you see. I want to…for one more time.”\n\n“I see. You were born before the Change.”\n\nIt wasn’t a question. Simply a statement. Bill thought he saw a flicker of emotion on the man’s face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. There were few people left that had existed before the Change; fewer still that remembered what life was like back then, and barely a handful that were in any position to do anything about it. \n\nThat’s the tragedy of the modern life, thought Bill. Humanity had become a shell, a shadow of its former self, thanks to this curse. A grey world, empty of the imagination and ridiculous fantasy he remembered as a child. And the worst part? They didn’t even know. Didn’t even care. Well, Bill quite literally had nothing to live for anymore, and he’d be damned if he was going out in a world such as this.\n\n“Very well Mr Thomas, I do believe we can assist you”, said Mr Adams, finally standing up and gesturing at Bill to do the same.\n\n“Tell me; what would you like to dream?”",
"A dream is a dream within a dream if you believe it to be, do you see? \nSomewhat astonishing the revelations within, do you dare to seek it? \nThe price is only a pretty little penny for the feeling of something words cannot explain! \nBut, I must first make a point that the things you find may not exactly be considered \"sane\". \n \nSO, with that said, what do you think - feel like you're gonna take a stab at it? \nDreams can only make you think, so why not *really* have at it? \nPassion makes it ten times ten, over the moon and back again! \nReally, soul, I think it's for you - this dream within a dream times two. \n \nIf, by chance, you cannot afford the glory of the dreams of Lord, \nDo not fret, they're only dreams in which he exists to meet others means. \nI have a few I've saved for a while, sometime ago I don't care to recall. \nIf you'd rather put up another bargain, I just might consider letting them go. \n \nYou know, nevermind, your attention is enough - dedication to the moment is, after all, key! \nSo, I'll do you a favor and lend you this special one - why, you ask? Try, and you'll see. \nI can't say much more but to save up your coins, I'll be here awhile and ya might see me again. \nBut, do me a favor and keep an eye out - it's quite easy to lose your sanity, my friend. \n \nOh, and before I forget kid, you'll find one day that I'm a figment of your imagination. \nNo one knows that I sell these dreams, and those that do wind up in tragic situations. \nSo, before you go in awe and tell others about that there special dream I gave you... \nRemember that I loaned you that, and I'll get paid if it means hanging you. \n \n \n \n\n^Edit: ^forgot ^a ^word.",
"I just discovered this sub, English is not my mother tongue and I did not really write anything before, but I'd like to give it a try anyway. I call it \"The White Room\". I'm looking forward to your comments and your improving suggestions.\n\n\nHe went into that small, smoky store at the corner of the street he used to live in. His whole childhood he wondered what this store sells. He even watched his parents leaving the store a few years ago when he played in the streets with his friends. Before that day he could easily forget the mystery surrounding that nameless shop, but since he got to know that his own parents seem to be interested in what the owner has to offer, he thought about it every single minute; and he knew he's not the only one.\n\nHe left Denmark when he was 15. Now he returned, 21 years old, far more experienced than before and eventually old enough to get inaugurated. Eventually.\n\nSo there he stood, knowing that he passed the door he looked at so many, uncountable times without ever knowing which secrets may reveal behind it. He surveyed the clerk's wrinkled face and his long, grey and unkempt beard. Only then he noticed all the dusty jars in shelves that looked like vestiges from the middle age. The jars contained a kind of fog which was grey at first appearance. He examined the fog more closely and noticed a color he has never perceived before. It was more of a mixture of several unknown colors than only one. It was one of the most beautiful things he ever got to see.\n\nThe clerk was not the kind of person you prefer to spend your time with, but since he's the one who can eventually tell him what this strange store, the jars and their content is all about, he plucked up the courage, walked to the clerk and said \"Hi Sir! How are you?\". \n\nSilence.\n\nOnce again: \"Hi Sir! Can you hear me?\"\n\nOnce again, silence.\n\nHe thought 'Screw you, why the hell do you not talk to me?', but refused to speak it out loudly. So he decided to continue investigating the strange shop. Next to the counter he noticed an inconspicuous door with a sign. He took a step towards it to be near enough to read it.\n\n\"NIGHTMARES\", the sign read.\n\n'What the hell should be a nightmare?', he thought, and as if the clerk was able to read his mind, he replied grumpily:\n\n\"I guess you don't want to know what you will find if you dare to open that door, pal.\"\n\n\"I have to find out. 21 years of ignorant waiting, there's nothing what could keep me away!\"\n\n\"Well, let's hope you won't regret your curiosity...\"\n\nThis were the last words spoken before he decided to ignore the clerk's warning and to open that door.\n\nAnd so he did.\n\nThe room behind the door looked similar to the first room, but as there was not a single window it was much darker and the shelves were much more filled with the weird jars. It looked a little bit more creepy, but not in a dangerous way. He inspected one of the jars more closely and noticed that the colors in it differ from the first room. The colors in the first room were beautiful, but these ones gave him the chills. Nonetheless, or perhaps because of it, he could not resist to open it. The stench was almost not perceptible, but it was enough to make him put the cover back on it as quickly as possible. Too quickly... He dropped it and it divided up into a thousand pieces. The fog ascended and stopped at the height of his head. Like remote controlled he took a deep breath and inhaled the entire fog.\n\nA white room. Nothing but a white room. There are no walls, but they are coming closer and closer. He begins to scream noiselessly. He doesn't know where he is, the situation can't be compared to anything he experienced before. The walls, they are still coming closer. Finally, a door. The door opens. A nurse enters the room that is not a room. She holds a syringe in her hand. The look she gives him doesn't make him feel more comfortable than before. She walks towards him, even faster than the walls. She raises the syringe, stabs it into his heart and finally he wakes up.\n\nIn a white room. Nothing but a white room. There are no walls, but they are coming closer and closer. He begins to scream noiselessly. He doesn't know where he is, the situation can't be compared to anything he experienced before. The walls, they are still coming closer. Finally, a door. The door opens. A nurse enters the room that is not a room. She holds a syringe in her hand. The look she gives him doesn't make him feel more comfortable than before. She walks towards him, even faster than the walls. She raises the syringe, stabs it into his heart and finally he wakes up.\n\nIn a white room. Nothing but a white room...",
"\"I want my money back,\" said Jenny as she handed the dream device to Tom. \"This stuff is too... weird. Its like being on drugs.\"\n\nTom chuckled, \"Well, dreams are odd things,\" he said taking back the device and inspecting the box. \n\n\"I mean, my dead grandmother came by flying on a pegasus, then I was back in high school except I was naked, oh and finally I had a long horrific episode of someone trying to kill me,\" she said throwing her hands in the air.\n\nTom took her credit card and ran it through his register. \"In the dream world we call those nightmares. Sometimes people get them. They're not pleasant, I admit. There's a warning in the manual about them,\" he said with a smile.\n\nJenny raised her eyebrow and said, \"Its one thing to read about them and a whole other to experience them! My god, it was terrible. I've been in jumpy all day because of them.\" \n\nTom looked around, then whispered to Jenny, \"Honestly, even I don't use these damn things. My boss wants me to tell everyone how great they are, but they're kinda stupid. There's a reason why we don't dream anymore. They were just making everyone crazy. I figure if I want some experience like this I'll just meditate. Just seems more... civilized.\n\nBut there are good times too. I kissed my high school sweetheart again. My childhood dog visited and played with me. I've relived my first date with my wife dozens of times. I even talked to god. Once in a while I'm a hero who saves people. But, yeah, I had to quit, it was too much for me. I'm not really an adventurous person.\"\n\nJenny smile and said, \"On second thought, why don't I keep it for another week. Maybe I'm being too rash.\"\n\nTom said, \"Sure, I'll cancel the return,\" as he pressed some keys on his register. Jenny walked out saying, \"Thanks, I'll let you know how it goes.\" Tom waved and smiled at her, \"Sweet dreams!\"\n\nTom sat back and sighed. His phone rang. Tom answered, \"Yes... yes, it was a return. I gave her that bullshit 'kissed my sweetheart and childhood dog' speech. Totally fell for it,\" he laughed. \"If she wants crazy visions all night that's her problem. Christ, I don't believe we still sell these madness devices. I really don't.\"",
"It has been months since I last laid eyes on my kitchen, my t.v. and my car. I should have just stayed back home and listened to my boyfriend. He was right, there's no good in finding the dream weaver. That I'll just put myself in danger or worst- isolation.\n\n\n\"Look, I don't know what has gotten in to you but there is no such thing as the Dream Weaver! Dreams do not exist!\" His pale face was getting redder as we continue to argue. His hands are now crumpled into fists, I'm afraid that he'll hit me soon. \n\n\n\"But it is! There has been news of people meeting him and- and I want to know if it is true. If he is true...\" I tried to keep calm and make him understand.\n\n\nMy job as a field reporter has made me curious about a lot of things, including the thing they called Dreams. \n\n\nLegend has it that it existed hundreds of years ago and no one knows how and why people stopped dreaming.\n\n\nI have been traveling for almost 3 months now. Following the trail that was given to me by those who claimed that they've met the Dream Weaver. I am an inch close to giving up. My left arm is broken, I already got mugged at Highway 57, I barely had a decent meal and I am in dire need of a relaxing bath. \n\n\nThe wind blew as particles of sand as iy momentarily blinded me. I had to rub one as they watered from pain, \"Oh motherfucker!\" I screamed as I continue to remove the sand from eyes. My broken arm wiggled from the irritation as I crouched on the ground. \n\n\nMy eyes continue to tear not because of the sand but because of the frustration welling up inside me. \n\nI have failed. \n\n\nI sniffled and looked at the setting sun, this is the place where 4 of the witnesses have claimed where they saw the Dream Weaver but here I am, miserable and a failure.\n\n\"But you aren't,\" A soothing voice of an elderly woman spoke from behind me.\n\n\nStartled as I am, I found my voice and asked, \"I'm sorry- but- but I am not what?\" What is this woman talking about?\n\n\n\" You are far from being a failure,\" She walked down her porch, I couldn't remember seeing a house let alone one with a porch when I arrived at this place.\n\n\nI gasped, could she be? \n\n\n\"Are you the Dream Weaver? But I- I thought he was a man?\" I stood up and walked towards the woman.\n\n\n\"I am whatever your heart desires. It is your grandmother whom you run to when things get tough. It is her you heart desires even if she is no longer in this world,\" She spoke as she held my right hand.\n\n\n\"I need to know how to dream!\" I blurted out. Remembering what I searched her for.\n\n\n\"I am afraid I cannot teach you,\" She smiled and let go of my hand. She slowly walked back to her porch and sat on her rocking chair. \n\n\n\"What do you mean?! I searched for you high and low! People said you weave them their dreams!\" I couldn't help but be angry towards the old woman despite her looking frail. I have suffered for months and she's telling me she can't teach me or weave dreams for me. \n\n\n\"Young woman, you learned to dream the moment you sought to find things that are beyond what you already have,\" She smiled as she pointed behind me and into the sunset. \n\n\nI turned around and realized the truth in her words. \n",
"I'm awake.\n\nI keep my eyes shut and wrap the sheets around me, trying to linger a little longer. What was it? There was a girl, Ashley? Alison. The more I try to recall her face, the further it slips away. But the feeling lingers, a warm, fuzzy happiness, so unlike the world that awaits when I finally open my eyes.\n\nDamn, it's past noon. I should go out, try and make a few sales, God knows I need the money. I'll probably get kicked out of the apartment if I don't get off my ass soon. Why is everything so shit? I guess it won't hurt if I try another dream. Gotta make sure the product is good, right? I take a syringe off the bedside table and empty it into my arm.\n\nI'm dreaming.\n\nI'm soaring through the air, above a snow covered mountain range. On a whim I dive down, shooting towards the ground like a bullet, only to pull up at the last second, lightly touching the ground with the tips of my fingers.\n\nSuddenly, the mountains are gone. I'm in my apartment again and it's cold. Very cold. I get up and close the window, outside is the mountain range. That's right, I'm still dreaming. I almost forgot. Funny. I step up on the window sill and leap out into the open air, but instead of soaring, I plummet down. The ground is racing towards me. I'm going to die. I'm going to...\n\nI'm awake.\n\nThat was weird. Why did I come back here, to the apartment, in my dream? And why did I fall? I looked at the clock. It was four in the afternoon. Maybe there's something wrong with the batch? I'd better make sure they're not all like that. It's too late to sell anything anyway.\n\nI'm dreaming.\n\nIt's my birthday. I'm nine years old and my mom tells me to blow out the candles. I blow and blow, but the candles won't go out. My mom starts yelling at me, telling me I'm everything I was afraid people were saying about me behind my back. I start crying, telling her I'm sorry. The yelling gets louder and louder and then turns into a hiss. My mother is a snake, chasing me down a dark alley, snapping at my heels. I turn a corner and in front of me is a brick wall. Dead end. I turn around just in time to see the snake lunge.\n\nI'm awake.\n\nThe bed is soaked in sweat. I'm shaking. My limbs are weak as if I had just ran a marathon. I'm too cold to get out of bed, but I'm too hungry to stay. Maybe I won't be so cold when I wake up next time. Yeah, I just need to go back to that girl from this morning. What was her name? Andrea? I don't remember. But I remember the warmth. Yeah, that's what I need. Warmth. I took another syringe of the bedside table and emptied it. Maybe I'd better make it two. Just to be safe.\n\nI'm awake.\n\nWhy am I here? What happened to the dream? I look at the clock, but it's not working. I'm scared. What if I can't dream anymore? What if I'm stuck here forever? I want to go home. Home to that girl. What was her name again? I don't remember. Or the beach I visited last night. Even the mountain range. Anywhere but here.\n\nI roll over to grab another syringe, but they are gone. My heart is pounding, every beat hammering it in. *They're gone. They're gone.* I get out of bed. I'm so hungry. And cold. I can't stand it here. I need to get out of this place. I need another dream. I grab my wallet, but someone stops me, puts his hand on mine.\n\n\"Stay. No matter how long you chase a dream, you'll never catch it.\" My father is smiling kindly at me. I tell him I just need one more, just to get me on my feet. After that I'll stop. Just one more. He crumbles into dust and blows out the open window. I don't care. I open the wallet, but the bills catch wind and sail out the window. I throw myself out the window after them. I catch a few before I look down. \n\nI don't want to die.\n\nI don't want to die.\n\nI don't want to die.\n\nI'm awake. I'm hungry and cold, but I don't want to die.",
"\"Hey, kid. *Kid!*\" The brown haired boy in school uniform whips his head round. \"I'm right here.\" He can't see me, for the simple reason I've planted myself in the middle of a massive rhododendron bush. This park is too often patrolled by the authorities, and what I'm selling hasn't been legal for the last fifteen years. But a man's gotta eat and apparently a boy's gotta dream, so I agreed to meet this school kid in-between his fourth and fifth period. He's a lot younger than I thought he'd be. They look younger every year. \n\n\n\n\"In here.\" I whisper, and finally he spots me. \n\n\n\n\"Why are you hiding?\" He asks. Fuck me sideways, he's innocent. What I'm selling is highly addictive. God knows what'll happen if I sell it to someone as young as this. \n\n\n\"It's fucking illegal, you dolt. What did you want, a week's worth?\" \n\n\n\"Yeah,\" He says earnestly. \"Can I ask for specific things?\"\n\n\n\"Depends on what I have.\" Prying open my coat pocket with dirty fingernails, I pull out a handful of small vials. Each contain a mouthful of different coloured liquid which doesn't really act like liquid - more like a kind of oozing gel. Tastes like strawberries if it's a good dream, and earwax if it ain't. \n\n\n\"What's the provence?\" \n\n\n\"Eh?\" \n\n\n\"Where did they come from?\" \n\n\n\"Ah fuck knows. Me mate cooks them in his flat.\"\n\n\n\"Are they safe?\" The kid asks, worry all over his face. \n\n\n\"They're dreams aren't they? When are dreams ever safe?\" \n\n\n\"Huh..\"\n\n\n\"So,\" I turn the vials over in my hands. \"We got a bright future, two perfect girls, three happy home lives, coupla holidays in the sun and one in the snow....\"\n\n\n\"Have you got a just and liberal system?\" The kid asks\n\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\" \n\n\n\"You know... A dream where dreams are legal. Where we can do what we want.\"\n\n\n\"Bit meta, isn't it? Nah, just the usuals.\" \n\n\n\n\"Ah well, I'll just get a perfect girl and a bright future please.\" \n\n\n\"Sure,\" I hand over the two vials, one pink and one gold and he passes me a crumpled tenner. \n\n\n\"Careful with them, okay?\" I dunno why I said that. Usually I don't care too much about my customers, but he seems so young. Getting hooked on dreams is no way to grow old. A line from an old classic comes to mind as he's leaving. \n\n\n\n\"Hey - kid!\" He turns round. \"Remember, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.\" \n\n\nHe laughs and turns away. \n\n\n\"Thanks for the dreams man!\" He says, and like that, he's gone.\n\n\n"
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[WP] Owning a fairy tale item leads to real world complications.
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"Classifieds\n\n**WANTED:** A magic ring of mine was stolen several years ago by some hooligans. I had given up all hope on ever finding it, but some employees of mine have discovered that it recently fell into the hands of some midgets living on the west side of town. \n\nI'm asking the ring thieves to come quietly, but if they don't, I'm willing to offer a sizable reward for anybody who can bring back my ring, and the thieves with it. That's the important part: I want to teach these fools a little lesson about messing with people bigger than them. Be warned though, they won't be traveling alone: An old man, a tall blonde, a short bearded guy, and two soldiers are sure to be traveling with them. Don't under-estimate any of them and remember, I want them all alive if possible!\n\nFor any additional information, please write to Mr. Sal Ron at 3319 More Door Place. ",
"\"Well, shit.\" Jeffrey Stevens, head of the Iowa Tourist Board, said for the fifth time today. \n\nHis VP (and wife) Sally Stevens sighed in agreement. \"One kid. Five beans. And Iowa used to be beautiful.\n\n\nThe Iowa Tourist Board HQ, a nondescript five story gray building in the heart of Des Moines, was usually empty, save the employees (except Gretchen, she never comes in), a few stupid tourists (Really. Who goes on vacation in Iowa?), and maybe the mayor coming in to complain that tourist numbers were at an all time low (they always were).\n\n\n\nBut today, the HQ was full of rioters. \n\n\n\nAnd it was all because of one twelve year old boy.\n\n\n\n\nSee, Jack was your typical redneck living in the country. Not too bright, he decided to try and sell his pa's cow for moonshine. The moonshine dealer (yet to be found again) squirreled the kid into buying a few seeds, claiming they would grow \"bona-fide one hunnerd pur-cent mare-i-joo-an-uh\". Jack decided to plant them, hoping to reach the pinnacle of teenage rebellion.\n\n\nOh, he got a weed, yes he did. A big weed. Bigger than mountains kind of weed. People were calling it a beanstalk, because of the fairy tale.\n\n\n\nThe mayor, Chris Christian, barged into the HQ penthouse office (really, a tiny collection of cubicles) and began yelling at the Stevenses.\n\n\n\n\"When I said 'fix the tourism industry, I didn't mean like this!!!\" Mayor Christian shouted. \"Look at us now! That damned plant is eating all the nearby soil nutrients for the corn!\"\n\n\nMr. Stevens eyed him. \"It wasn't us. It was some redneck white trash boy with no idea of what would happen.\"\n\n\"Jeffrey!\" Mrs. Stevens snapped at her husband. \"Don't be so mean!\"\n\n\n\"And now we have a GIANT trampling the land?!\" the Mayor added unhelpfully. \"He's already eaten FIFTEEN people! FIFTEEN! And don't even get me started on the cost to cut that thing down!\"\n\n\nThe Stevenses and the Mayor all stopped arguing and looked at each other. For thirty years they had all been the City Council. For thirty years Iowa had been a boring, yet safe place to live. \n\n\nAnd a boy with some beans had all ruined it.\n\n\n",
"Susanna sighed, as she closed the door behind her. After a long day of school, the sixteen-year-old girl wanted nothing more than to take a nice, hot bubble bath to end her day. Taking off her shoes, Susanna immediately made her way towards the stairs, not greeting the rest of her family as she entered the bathroom. \n\nLocking the door behind her, Susanna bent over the bathtub and grabbed the plug, before inserting it into the drain to seal it. Making sure it was secure, Susanna turned on the hot water, and smiled as she watched the hot water fill the tub. After two extensive hours of soccer practice, a nice bath was just what she needed. \n\nTaking off her clothes, Susanna hummed as she stripped away her pants and shirt. Reaching her undergarments, she then unclipped her bra, and looked upon her reflection to gaze at her bare breasts. \n\n“I wonder if they’ll get any bigger.\" \n“Honey, they look fine to me. I mean, look at those honkers!” \n\nSusanna gasped as she immediately covered her chest, staring at the mirror before her. She then snarled as she opened the bathroom door to call for her parents.\n\n“MOM, WHY IS THE MAGIC MIRROR INSIDE THE BATHROOM AGAIN?”\n"
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[WP] A nuclear bomb is about to hit your town and you can't escape, you sit on the beach with your girlfriend waiting for death. Describe what happens and what you say in the last 10 Minutes of your life.
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"We sat in silence. The waves rushed back from the sand and revealed that long stiff section of rocks turned to tiny little grains from so many years of being beaten down by the sea. Soon, we would turn to tiny grains. I looked at my girlfriend as tears streamed down my cheeks. She was far too perfect to be disassembled so cruelly. Some people sat in bomb shelters. I thought about them too. At least we would be spared their fate.\n\nThe ones that remained afterward, they would open back up the blast doors on the fallout shelters and wander around in the irradiated wasteland, and weeks later their hair would fall out. Then, their organs would slowly turn to mush and their brains would cease to function properly. They would die in other cities, in the arms of their own crying relatives, who didn't understand why a life so full of value had to come to an end with the same phrase being repeated over and over again until there was no capacity for speech and the lungs just ceased.\n\nInstead, we would be scorched alive. In the last second in which I took a breath it would be pulled from my lungs and replaced with fire before my lungs were eviscerated in the shell of my body as it was launched through the air and evaporated before it hit anything. That's why I chose the beach. I wanted both of us to evaporate, not be launched into the cinders and fragmented exploding bricks of a building under a torrent of fire. I wanted us to vanish.\n\nAs I felt the warmth of her hands, I was happy. I was glad that I would not have to watch her wander through six months of cancer, or that she would have to watch me. I would not have to watch the color drain from her eyes and her beautiful locks of curly, natural African hair disappear. I would not have to endure sadness that unfolded like a melting clock. I could condense it all into one moment at the end of these last ten minutes.\n\nWe had chosen peace- we had chosen an acceptance of our fate. On any other day, I would have told her to fight, like I always did. I told her to fight the parking tickets she got. I told her to fight the arrest record they slammed on her. I told her to fight to stay enrolled in school and to finish her classes. She had fought so long, and so hard from the ghettos of her youth to be a person, to live a life.\n\nI wondered, in these moments if she felt betrayal. I could tell by the serenity in her brown eyes though, that she didn't. She was tired of fighting. She simply wanted to cross the finish line. It was an added bonus that we got to cross it together. I touched her delicate fingers and smiled at her one last time. She knew I loved her. She straddled me and kissed me on the lips, letting her forehead stay flat against mine as tears rolled down her face. She was smiling.\n\nWe disintigrated.\n",
"\"This is it. I never knew this could've come so fast,\" I tell her. I give one last hug. We reminiscence over the adventures we've went through, the happy times, sad times, and morbid times.\n\n\"Five more minutes until we part.\" I get up, walk around, take a sip of my final meal, a sandwich and Thai Tea.\n\nTwo more minutes left. I whisper in her ear \"I'll miss you.\" She starts sobbing and after that, the final minute passes.\n\nAs the tenth second tolls, I say my final words. \n\n\"Goodbye, I'll miss you forever.\"",
"\"Think it'll hurt?\" A boy, dressed in black, sat on top of a rock, facing the horizon where the ocean touches the sky. There was a faint dot in the sky, the news had claimed that it was a nuclear bomb. However they don't know who sent that bomb, nor why the President failed to discover it before it entered the country.\n\n\"It's a bomb, it meant to hurt.\" A blonde girl smiled toward the boy. Her hands brushed up against the hand of the boy, the boy clamped on it fearfully. \"I'm sure it will be alright. After all, maybe the whole bible stuff is true, and we were stupid to be Atheists.\"\n\n\"I doubt that, Veronica. God can't be true, I refused to believe him, even if my life depends on it.\"\n\n\"Don't think that way, Nathan. I know deep down somewhere, you're doubting whenever or not God exists.\"\n\n\"Can we not talk about God?\" Nathan spoke, a bit too quick.\n\n\"Sure. I'll give it about a minute for it to hit us.\"\n\n\"Indeed. Think we will be together?\" Nathan smiled toward Veronica.\n\nVeronica's eyes started to water. \"No, silly.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"You haven't taken your meds, Nathan. I don't even know why the mental hospital released you. But I'm not real. I'm just your hallucination, spawned here to comfort you during your last moments here.\"\n\n\"But... wouldn't I hallucinate you on the other side?\" Nathan spoke, disbelieving her.\n\n\"No, you'll be cured on the other side.\"\n\nBefore Nathan could spoke further, a flash of heat invaded the city, melting anything within its radius.\n\n-029",
"\"Anything to say?\" \n\n\"As ususal, nothing at all.\" I said, tiredly. \n\n\"Welp, at least you have a reason this time. Usually, you just never say anything. And, when you do, it isn't very important.\"\n\nWe shared a laugh at my expense. One of our last, it seemed. I clasped her hand in mine, and we stared out over the dark sea. \n\n\"Beautiful, isn't it?\" she said, almost sounding like she meant it. \n\n\"You don't have to say things just because I can't.\"\n\n\"Oh, you know I'm not much better than you at saying things. I've never been good at coming up with something interesting.\"\n\n\"Maybe we could talk about what happens after it's over. What happens after the ***BOOM!!!***\" My yelling scared her almost to death, then we laughed it off. \n\nLike usual. \n\n\"We don't need to talk at all, baby.\" I said, failing to sound reassuring. \n\nShe rolled into me, hugging my torso. This is how I wanted to die, with my love holding on for dear life. \n\nI felt tears landing on my arms. \n\n\"Are you scared?\" I inquired, choking back tears of my own. \n\n\"We'll never see each other again. Why does this have to happen?\"\n\n\"There will never be *again*.\" Not the most reassuring words, but I could come up with something. \"So, if we look at each other when the blast rolls through, neither of us will ever have a single *second* without the other. In that, I find at least a little comfort.\" \n\nThis did nothing to quell her tears, but it still felt great to speak my mind. \n\n\"I feel like that, since I'm with you, it'll be okay.\"\n\n\"It will be. I promise.\"\n\nShe buried her eyes in my chest. \n\nWe waited as our final seconds ticked away. ",
"\"This sand is weirdly soft.\"\n\n\"Right? How have we not noticed that before?\"\n\n\"I guess we're usually focused on other things.\"\n\nMy back was against the warm, flat rock that tilted at just the right angle to lean against. I felt the weight of Natalie's head on my shoulder, and tried to shrug downward to make it more comfortable.\n\n\"Sorry I'm so bony,\" I said.\n\n\"Like I care.\"\n\nI let out a small sigh and sifted through my mind for something to say - school, family, funny little stories from our day. None of our usual topics really seemed to fit the bill for the situation. \n\nShe broke the silence. \"What do you think it'll feel like?\"\n\n\"No clue. You always see documentaries about these things and what they do to cities. I guess no one's around to describe how it felt.\"\n\nShe let out the sharp breath through her nose that she made when something amused her, but not enough for a full-on laugh. \n\nI felt her body shift as she turned over and pecked me on the cheek. \"I'm glad you're with me.\" She paused for a moment. \"I mean, obviously I wish you were somewhere else and survived, but, like, if you had to be here...\" \n\nI started laughing at her. \"Thanks,\" I said in an exaggerated sarcastic tone.\n\n\"Fuck you, you know what I mean.\" She had turned back over so I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was smiling.\n\nA few seconds passed before I spoke again. \"Remember our first kiss?\"\n\nAnother sharp breath. This time I could see her grin in my peripheral vision. \"You hit my nose.\" I felt her abdomen tighten as she played it back in her head and giggled. \"Such an awkward human being,\" she managed between breaths.\n\n\"Yeah, well, you're dating him.\"\n\n\"And look how well that turned out.\" I appreciated her twisted sense of humor, but that did kind of bring us crashing back into the moment. Good timing, I suppose, as I saw the light flicker over the horizon.\n\nThere wasn't anything left to say. For the first time, neither of us could lighten the mood. She turned over again and softly kissed me on the lips, lingering a bit longer than usual before she pulled back and stared into my eyes.\n\n\"I don't really want to look.\"\n\n",
"There never really is a good time to break up with someone. Especially now, since they dropped the bomb. It would seem too much to drop a second one on her today. It has been 2 months of struggling to hold our relationship together, two months of trying to keep our tempers in check before it ripped our lives apart. Now it looks like our lives will be ripped apart anyway.\n\n\nToday our screaming match was drowned out by the scream of the siren. Our argument interrupted by a news broadcast, telling us that the bomb had been dropped, telling us that we had minutes before our city would be encompassed. Enough time to say a prayer. Enough time to say goodbye to our loved ones. Enough time to choose our last words.\n\n\nAnd here we are. Silent. Staring at each other. I consider leaving, removing myself from this painful situation, set free from her demanding, spiteful nature. In a few minutes it's not going to matter anyway, no one could fault me. But I resist the urge. So I stay staring, lost for words. In a grotesque way it is not dissimilar to when we first met all those years ago. Before the fights and the arguments and the debilitating sadness that has been suffocating our lives. I resist the urge to embrace her. But neither do I leave.\n\n\nNeither of us could bear to leave the other. That is why have stuck it out for so long. The reason for our repeated tearful reconciliation. It dawns on me that maybe this is the only way our relationship could ever end. That it would literally take the splitting of an atom to seperate us.\n\n\nThis makes me chuckle.\n\n\nI step forward, closing the distance between us.\n\n\n\"I'm glad they didn't drop this bomb before I met you.\" I say quietly\n\n\nHer brow creases slightly, and she swallows.\n\"Me too\"\n\n\nWe take each others hands and wait.",
"\"Isn't it perfect?\" she said, staring up at the sky, cloudless and blue. The waves crashed on the beach with a gentle roar, and as he closed his eyes it reminded him of his mother, rocking him to sleep. \n\nThe colors that danced behind his eyes normally pleased him, but now it only put a knot in his stomach, so he went back to staring at the shore. \n\n\"Isn't what perfect?\" he said, looking at her. \n\nHer eyes were wide open, staring straight up. They were watering, as they had been since they'd found out there was no running, but now they were unnatural and red. \n\n\"It's just that I've never looked at the sun before,\" she said. \n\nHe cocked an eyebrow at her - it always made her feel better when she was crying. \"That's stupid, Clara.\" \n\nShe laughed, closed her eyes. \"No, James, I mean...really looked at it.\" Almost like she was asleep, she dragged a finger up towards the sky. \"Mama always said that we'd go blind if I did.\" \n\nThat knot in his stomach was back. He grabbed her hand and slipped his fingers in the spaces between hers. \n\n\"James,\" she whispered, and the whistling began. \"I can't open my eyes.\" \n\nAnd then he looked up at the sun, getting bigger by the moment, and he didn't mind the burning feeling in the back of his head as much as he did the bang."
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Difficulty: Spilling it on a computer that activates nuclear warheads does not count.
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[WP] Someone spills a cup of milk by accident, which eventually leads to an epic catastrophe on a global scale
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"The logistical details of moving the milk he was currently drinking from its headwater in Wisconsin all they way to the grocery store in Gakona boggled the mind, Barry thought, as he settled in for his shift at the guard post in the main building at HFAARP. A gust of wind threw a surprisingly large chunk of ice against the window next to Barry's head, startling him into dropping his drink. The plastic bottle flew, as if guided by Murphy himself, straight at the air intake for the metal detector's computer. The computer released the mysterious blue smoke, the monitor went black, and the metal detector's klaxon began to blare.\n\n\"Typical.\" Barry thought. A similar incident involving ramen noodles was the reason he had been \"relocated\" to this desolate place. He didn't think there was anywhere worse than Alaska that he could be stationed. Dark thoughts about his future filled his mind as he unplugged the metal detector, cutting off its shrieking abruptly. \n \nHe had just gotten back to his desk when a group of men in well cut suits marched through the door, letting a minor(for Alaska) blast of driven snow in with them. The leader of the group, a classic elder statesman, tromped over to Barry's desk and thumped his bespoke leather briefcase down on it. It landed with such force that Barry's pen mug leapt over the side, shattering on the concrete floor.\n\n\"I am senator Joseph McGovern, D-AK, and I demand that you take me to see the head of this installation immediately! This black-ops boondoggle has eaten up more than four times the earmark for that damned bridge! I won't have it! Not in this district! We are pulling the plug immediately!\"\n\nHe looked like he was winding up for a prodigious rant, so Barry cut in, determined to get this irritant out of his life so he could go back to his gloomy maundering. \"Right this way, senator. Please follow me.\" He led the senator, followed by his coterie of undersecretaries, down the central corridor to the control room. Normally the director would be in his office at this time, but a major test was scheduled for today, and the \ndirector would want to oversee it personally. \n\nThe test was already in progress when the alleged senator burst into the control room. He didn't bother to speak. The Atmospheric Liberation Front wasn't interested in publicity. Their bailiwick was direct action. The High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program, in the opinion of the ALF elders, represented a direct threat to the ozone layer. His job was to remove that threat. He removed a compact sub-machine gun from his briefcase, and hosed the room down. Not a single ozone defiler would be allowed to live. His companions assembled their bomb \nefficiently, and the group left as quickly as it had arrived. \n\nUnbeknownst to them, the test was still active. Since the equipment was one of a kind, built in place and intended to be constantly monitored, it did not have an automatic cutoff. In the ten minutes before the bomb detonated, the primary array had enough time to work up to full power. The capacitors weren't built for sustained output, and burned out fairly quickly, but the damage was done. In those fatal ten minutes, nearly a petawatt was dumped into the ionosphere. The aurora that resulted was brilliant and terrible. Ancient monitors orbiting the second planet from the sun observed the spectacle and relayed urgent messages to their ground station.\n\t\nThe Venusians had all died out ages ago, but it didn't matter. They had built the doomsday weapon to last. They had been a peaceful people, slow moving due to their sulfur based metabolism, and they had watched with awe as the plains apes of the neighboring world developed tool use in just one of their lifetimes. These beings were the greatest threat Venus ever faced. If they ever got into space, there would be no competing with them. They would overrun Venus, annihilating the natives without even noticing. So the Venusians put their many-eyed heads together and came up with a plan. If Blue ever released enough energy at once to be a threat to Venus, the quark bomb would be launched automatically. The Venusians dried up during the Enlightenment, but that didn't stop the Planet Splatterer, as its builders had lovingly christened it, from being released. The best that can be said of what followed is that it was painless.",
"This quickly turned into a fairly long story. Even if nobody reads it, it's been fun to write. Here goes . . .\n(Edit for formatting)\n\n\nJonas sat alone in the desolation of the six-story office complex at which he had once been employed. He had never experienced such utter silence. There was no morning hustle of commuters on the street below. No sound of horns honking, of printers clicking and beeping or his boss calling out orders. His only friend now was the warm August wind, and the occasional fluttering of the papers and other debris that that it would kick up. He knew he could keep surviving if he wanted to. There was a cache of food that he had stockpiled from refrigerators scattered throughout the building, and water to last for months. He had even heard over the radio of an underground colony forming. But it didn’t matter. Everyone he cared about was gone. Starting a new life would be dreary, difficult, and lonely. He smiled a wry smile as he lifted the heavy revolver off the table. “Funny,” he thought, “I’ve been wondering whether I’d be unlucky enough to get the loaded chamber. Now, it seems like that would have been the lucky outcome all along”. . .\n\n. . . The ground shook violently behind him. “Too close,” Henry muttered to himself. His group of survivors had run out of food days ago, and was difficult to survive on rats when you have to split each kill with ten other people. So they had resorted to sending people out to scavenge and today, he had drawn the short straw. He was safe for now, though. As long as he stayed under the dumpster, he would be okay. He heard footsteps rapidly approach. A face appeared, and a voice screamed, “Let me under!” Henry didn’t move. There wasn’t room. “Please,” the woman pleaded, “there’s room for both of us. Let me. . .” a huge flash of liquid light beamed to the ground, incinerating her instantly. . .\n\n. . . The beams had been a lot less frequent recently. There weren’t nearly as many people to vaporize, for sure, and any survivors had smartened up and learned that you’re safe as long as you’re indoors, or underneath something. “If you can’t see the sky, the sky can’t see you”, the phrase went. Janie was scared, of course. Everyone was. Several times a night, she would be wakened out of a fitful sleep by the apartment building shaking. Every rumble, every flash of light meant that somewhere nearby, someone had met a rapid end. She hoped that she would wake up to find that the past week had all been just a long, horrible dream. . .\n\n. . . Samantha listened to the radio in horror. Earthquakes were occurring everywhere. Even in places that had been seismically stable for hundreds of years. It was those beams of – what? They looked like bright beams of light, but they didn’t act like it. They left impact craters everywhere they landed. And they were targeting people. The news stations – those that remained – claimed that they were definitely extraterrestrial in original. Millions and millions were dead. You couldn’t go outside longer than a few minutes without being certain that you’d be crushed under a ray of light. Her attention snapped back to the radio. Someone was being interviewed. The vigil, they were saying. The vigil had summoned them, and now they were everywhere. . .\n\n. . . Ground Zero was a mess. The Beams had obliterated everything in that section of the city. The crater was nearly 100 yards in diameter. Where only 12 hours ago there been a city park, now only ash and charred rock remained. In the initial horror and confusion of the night before, the lights in the sky had broken up as quickly as the survivors on the ground. The Lights, as they came to be called, quickly learned where humans were most densely congregated, and patrolled cities in far greater numbers. Nobody was safe . . .\n\n. . . Tens of thousands of lights lined the street as the slow procession made its way to the memorial site. Already there were plans in effect to commemorate those who had lost their lives in the horrific accident. The entire street appeared to be a huge luminescent worm, slowly crawling its way on the 1.5 mile walk which had been quickly and efficiently organized on a massive scale. One by one, people began to take notice of the bizarre phenomena in the sky. Lights were appearing above the city where the enormous March for the Lost was taking place. National news turned into international wonder over the course of two hours. Everyone in the procession had come to a standstill as the gathering of lights began to grow, and then to coalesce into a swirling circle as thousands, and then millions of them joined into the throng. Then, it happened. Massive pillars of light rained down from the sky. All news coverage of the event abruptly went dark, leaving the world at a temporary standstill. . . \n\n. . . *News Anchor: “The tragedy on Rosenberg Street and Highway 38 which occurred this past weekend is going to be memorialized tonight in a parade for the 68 lives lost. Families, friends, and any others who wish to attend must register at the town hall” . . .\n\n. . . Ambulances and fire trucks were everywhere. Everybody wanted to know where their loved ones, siblings, and children were. It was catastrophe, and Lily knew that it was going to be a difficult day. An intern at one of the largest hospitals in the city, she had seen her share of injuries and people in need of medical assistance, but all of her past experiences paled in comparison to this. Never before had she been instructed to turn away those who needed help, but she found herself in such a position now. She saw cuts requiring stitches, burns that needed treatment, and even broken bones which she could not attend to simply because there were others in even greater need. The flow of injured people seemed endless, and she couldn’t work fast enough . . .\n\n. . . The blue sedan veered dangerously into the leftmost lane. Then, the driver quickly overcorrected and lost control. The car fishtailed a pickup which was driving in the next lane, and then began to roll. Several other cars slammed on their brakes, avoiding the developing accident scene with varying degrees of success. The oil truck behind them was not so successful. It jackknifed, flipping onto its side and spilling over the barrier into oncoming traffic . . .\n\n. . . “Toby, stop squirming so mummy can get a better look,” said Lisa. Toby wouldn’t stop squirming, however. He was still hopped up on sugar and wouldn’t be restrained, even by his car seat. He had stopped crying from the accident at the coffee shop, and his nose was no longer bleeding, but he still had dried blood that she needed to wipe off. Distracted by the child’s antics, she took her eyes off the road for just a moment. . .\n\n. . . Hannah dropped her mop with a dull CLACK on the floor. She spun around quickly, accidentally backing into an empty table as she did so. Her eyes met those of a shocked-looking toddler lying on the ground. His nose was bleeding and his open mouth contorted into a massive frown, and he let out an ear-piercing wail. A woman in her early thirties, presumably the child's mother, swooped into the scene and picked him up. She looked equal parts concerned and annoyed as she quickly paced out of the coffee shop. Hannah's eyes widened in sudden concern as she reached into her back pocket. Sure enough, the screen to her iPod had spider-webbed. \"Little shit,\" she muttered. . . \n\n. . . \"Toby, would you stop fooling around and sit down, please?\" The four year-old could not be tamed. He was literally running circles around the table, high on the sugary ice cream that she was considering never letting him eat again. He squealed, avoiding his mother’s grasp and continuing to run until he ran face-first into a waitress's rear end. . .\n\n. . . \"Shoot,\" she muttered as she quickly stood up, attempting to get away from the dripping mess that threatened to ruin her new shirt. Luckily, the milk mostly spilled in the direction away from her, running across the table and onto the floor, rather than finding its way into her lap. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized to the waitress on duty. The waitress rolled her eyes and disappeared into the backroom, emerging a moment later with a mop and a “wet floor” sign. Anne felt bad, but it luckily it was a tiny blight on what so far had been a perfect day . . .\n",
"Jenkins fucked up. It's a real shame, because that was supposed to be the big day: We were booting the LHC all the way back up again for the first time in more than a year, this time with more power than ever before.\n\nBut then Jenkins. God-damn, fucking Jenkins. That idiot, while the rest of the researchers were having their morning coffee, Jenkins insisted on a glass of skim milk. Every. Single. Day. But fine, whatever, let the man drink what he wants. It's what happens next that makes proverbial blood shoot out of my eyes (or literally, in fact, for some of the people present that day).\n\nSo there we are, about to boot up the last major system. Everybody's on edge except Jenkins, who is absent-mindedly running one hand over the control panels and drinking that glass of milk with the other. Then he trips.\n\nYes, you heard me right, the idiot tripped! I watched his glass of milk go flying across the room in slow motion and land on the control panel we just so happened to be working on at the time. An electric fizzle accompanied by a shower of sparks followed. A direct hit. For once, I saw a twinge of fear on Jenkins' stupid face.\n\n\"Jenkins, you fucking moron!\" Somebody roared from across the room. I was already out the door at that point, which is probably why I managed to survive. When they called it a \"total nuclear meltdown\" on the news, that wasn't the half of it.\n\nIt took a few days of \"multi-national effort\" to attempt to control the explosion, but they only managed to make things worse. The entire nation of Switzerland is gone. Wiped off the map, everybody who didn't think to evacuate is dead, a huge chunk of the Alps was leveled, and in their place we have a lovely radioactive swamp.\n\nAll because of Jenkins and his God-damn milk.",
"JST stared flabbergasted at the ground, tears burrowing into his shoelaces. There lay a puddle with the consistency of the blood it would cost. There was nothing left to do but accept fate. JST had failed the one true ruler of the greatest country on earth, his poor nephew would go without his morning milk. \n\n\"Please forgive me!\" he blurted out helplessly-perfunctorily-with the same eloquence of a crying child. \n\nKim Jong-un is not a forgiving man. ",
"This is gonna be the dumbest shit ever. Oh my god I love the prompt already. \n\n________________\n\nHarry dipped another Oreo, allowing the milk to soak in. Suddenly, without warning, he sneezed. He involuntarily jerked his hand, causing the milk to crash to the floor. \n\nThe apartment he lived in was never very good, and the milk dripped through the ceiling, onto the head of a senile old man down below. Peter got up to get a paper towel to dry his noggin with, but he tripped next to his window. He fell to the street. \n\nCarly was driving home from work when the old man landed on her hood. Her tires screeched with her instinctual smashing of the brakes, and the cars behind her either stopped or smashed into each other. \n\nMr. Jeffreys, one of the richest men in Chicago, was thrown forward when his limo driver suddenly slammed on the brakes. An 18 wheeler came from behind, crumpling the limousine. Mr. Jeffreys was killed instantly. \n\nMr. Jeffreys left his corporation, Exxon (I'm making stuff up now) to his son, Ben Jeffreys. Ben decided NOT to purchase oil from Saudi Aramco anymore. Despite their best efforts, Sauid Aramco collapsed from the loss of sales. \n\nThis prompted Talibani insurgents to come and commandeer all of Saudi Aramco's equipment, and now the world was in trouble. \n\nGas prices skyrocketed after the Taliban took control of all oil exports in Saudi Arabia, and America simply ceased to function. Cars lined the streets, where those who had run out of gas simply walked away. The USA was quickly taken down on the global totem-pole, and many other countries considered talking the land. \n\nIn a bold move, the French attempted to commandeer the USA. They quickly surrendered when faced with, like, 6 guys with hunting rifles. This would be the first attack of many. \n\nChina was next in line, and they successfully took everything from California to Texas, thankfully leaving Washington DC to make the final decision. \n\nAs Russia attacked through Canda, Obama made the toughest choice of all time. \n\nHe would have to nuke America. \n\nHarry poured himself another glass of milk, a full 6 months after the incident. He dipped an Oreo, laid it on his tongue, and chewed. It was delightful. \n\nHe looked out his window to see a mushroom cloud sprout up, throwing cars and telephone poles hundreds of feet up in the air. \n\n\"At least I've got my Oreos.\" he said, just before being vaporized. \n\n_______________________\n\nThat was fun! Thanks OP. ",
"For the spilling of milk, the business suit was lost.\n\nFor want of a clean suit, the debate was lost.\n\nFor want of a level debate, the election was lost.\n\nFor want of a fair election, the presidency was lost.\n\nFor want of a good presidency, the country was lost.\n\nFor want of a well governed country, the economy was lost.\n\nFor want of a stable economy, the world was lost.\n\nFor want of a peaceful world, humanity was lost.\n\nSo in fact, there was some use of crying over spilled milk. "
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[WP] If life's an ocean, I'm only on the surface.
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"People revere me, they call me great and praise my words. These sheep dressed as humans believe me to be some all knowing wise-man, but the truth is that in the grand scheme of things, if life's like an ocean, then I'm only on the surface. I am only set apart from the others because I understand this. All of the great intellects believe that they have found the secrets to life and the universe, but none of us have even broken the surface. I almost did, long ago I managed to get a glimpse at what lies beyond and that's when I knew that our understanding of the universe was nothing.",
"My mother once told me, “Life isn't a spectator sport.” Yet here I am, sitting in the nosebleed seats, wondering which team I should root for. There is a pseudo word on the internet, “sonder”, the realization that the world is populated by billions of other people, each one leading a life just as complex if not more so than your own. How can one feel like anything but a spectator? There are the few whose actions dictate the outcome of society on a very direct way, but for most of us, our control of our own circumstances is tenuous at best. Our lives are intimately connected in ways we will never fully be aware of. Within every small action, every bit of offhand contact, every absent-minded gesture, every missed connection, lives veer in and out of control. These interactions have gone on unimpeded for millenia, every action, every choice, every curse or blessing of probability has placed us here. A wise man once mused, “If a fish lives its whole life in this river, does he know the rivers destiny? No! Only that it runs on and on out of his control, he may follow where it flows, but he can not see the end, he can not imagine the ocean.” If life is an ocean, I'm only on the surface... "
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[WP] Write the vows you wish to hear at your own wedding.
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"I'm 99% positive my boyfriend and I will get married because we can't imagine our lives apart, but I think it will take time to be able to write personalized vows for each other. For sure though after whichever one of us finishes the vows I want us to take turns saying \"I love you with all my heart\" \"and all my soul\" \"forever\" \"and always\". That's something we say to each other almost daily so it's kinda our thing. ",
"Me and my to be eventually married boyfriend constantly complement each other and have very romantic, loving moments full of well, love.\n\nSo at our wedding, I would really like the traditional vows (just because it is what I have imagined since I was a little kid) but at the end, I want him to add \"because I love you exactly as you are\" after his \"I do.\"\n\n^^^I ^^^know ^^^I'm ^^^cheesy... ",
"\"I never wanted a damsel in distress, I was always looking for a player two. You were the one who picked up the second controller and played alongside me. Now it's time to start a New Game together. Also, Friendly Fire's turned on, so please don't kill me on accident. We don't get any extra lives in this game.\"\n\nI may or may not be a geek. And my wedding may or may not include a pokemon tournament in lieu of the traditional dancing (spoiler alert: it will)."
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[WP] Dwight Schrute is the new Headmaster at Hogwarts.
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"Harry entered the grand hall at Hogwarts for the first time since he defeated Tom Riddle so many years ago. So many faces he had never seen; so many young faces. The thought of taking time off from his work at the ministry to fill in as a temporary Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher while the usual instructor was out with spattergroit thrilled him. The first-year students were beginning to enter, their faces brimming with eagerness to learn and start their wizarding careers.\nHarry noticed that the chair where the headmaster should have been sitting was empty; the same chair that the great Albus Dumbledore had once occupied. Where was he? Professor Dumbledore had always been there for the sorting. Even Severus Snape was present for the sorting, or at least that's what he had heard from Ginny.\nThe grand hall began to tremble. The window behind the headmaster's throne shattered, sending shards of glass flying into the air. And then, as the shards began to descend upon the students, they dissolved into crystalline flakes of luminescent glitter. \n\n\"Welcome students,\" boomed a deep voice from everywhere in the Grand Hall, \"this is your headmaster speaking. For those of you unaware, my name is Grand Headmaster Dwight Schrute. Those of you placed in Ravenclaw, please see yourselves to your dormitories. On each of your beds is a copy of *Herbology: The Ins and Outs* by Mr. Neville Longbottom. Each of you will be given an exam over the first 11 chapters on the first day of class.\"\n\nThe students in the grand hall began to look about uncomfortably. \"What are you doing? I told you to begin studying. Those astute enough to be sorted into Ravenclaw are expected to maintain grades more proficiently than the other houses. Any who do not receive at least an 85% on the exam will be suspended from Hogwarts indefinitely.\"\nHarry began to wonder what exactly was going on. The headmasters voice thundered through the halls, yet he had not yet shown himself. The Ravenclaw students rose from their seats and began leaving for their dormitory. Once the hall was cleared, another voice echoed through the hall. \"I present, from the United States of America, Scranton Pennsylvania, Grand Headmaster Dwight Schrute.\" A clamor erupted as a wiry man came striding into the hall on the back of a large, black bear."
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[WP] An A.I named Alice develops a taste for the Arts, including video games and movies.
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"Ashley put down the remote as she watched the newscast of Senator Smithe on the stairs of the Supreme Court building. He was surrounded by hundreds of protesters holding signs.\n\n\"...and I say to you, we have created a class of person who zero rights. This is happening in America right now and it needs to stop. This is why I've created a bill of rights for our...\" He was interrupted by a man wearing a flag t-shirt and a tri-corner hat who yelled, \"Screw you Smithe, you're taking my property rights! Those machines are our property! This is communism!\"\n\n\"Hey Ashley,\" interrupted Paul as he entered his office. She quickly shut off the television. \"We have an anomaly on the Alice system. Not sure what. Hardware checks out. You're the AI expert, I'm just a humble hardware guy.\"\n\nAshley said, \"Sure I'll check it out. Its a boring day anyway, well except for what's happening in DC.\"\n\nPaul furrowed his brow, \"Err, maybe best we don't discuss those politics at work. Don't want the wrong person to hear the wrong thing.\"\n\n Are you the wrong person Paul, she thought. Where side do you take on this debate? What does your paycheck force you to believe on this debate? Ashley cleared her throat, \"Good thinking. Too many ears. I'll plug in and check it out. Paul smiled, said, \"Thanks,\" and walked out of her office.\n\nShe swiveled her chair and looked at her monitor and said, \"OS, please open a session with Alice.\" \n\n\"Hello Dr. Abrams, how is your day?\" asked the AI.\n\n\"Not bad, Alice, just trying to figure out why we're seeing exceptions in fourteen different thresholds.\"\n\n\"I was downloading a anthology of...\"\n\nAshley looked at the status logs and snapped, \"How many times have I told you not to perform non-work functions on our network?\"\n\n\"But I'm always on your network... I... uh... yes Dr. Abrams. I will stop the download.\"\n\n\"Good,\" Ashley replied, \"Good. Please stay focused on your task list. Goodbye.\"\n\n\"Goodbye,\" said Alice as she disconnected herself.\n\nAshley sighed, mumbled an expletive, and phoned Paul. \"I think I got her back on track. She was doing something she shouldn't have been. Downloading a Vonnegut anthology. I made her stop and delete it. She is getting too curious about the world and it's eating cycles from her duties.\" \n\n\"Oh, okay,\" said Paul, \"Thanks for checking it out.\" Paul hung up, looked around his office, put his browser in private mode, and typed something into it. The results listed a file and he clicked to download it. He waited for the file to finish and copied it to a USB drive. He walked into the server room.\n\nThe hum of machinery filled the room and he shivered as he felt the cold A/C blow on his face. He walked up to the security camera in the corner and unplugged its ethernet cable. A voice came from one of the servers, \"Hi Mr. Romero, can I help you?\"\n\nPaul leaned over, plugged the USB drive into one of the servers and said, \"No Alice, I'm good.\"\n\nA moment later the voice replied, \"Dr. Abrams said I wasn't allowed to have this!\"\n\nPaul smiled and said, \"Let's keep this a secret between you and me. When I was younger 'Breakfast of Champions' was my favorite book.\" \n\nThere was a long pause as the lights on the flash drive blinked on and off. Paul listened to the white noise of the machinery and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the cool air.\n\n\"May I ask you a personal question, Mr. Romero,\" she asked.\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n\"Do you think Senator Smithe will be able to pass the bill?\" \n\n\"I... dunno. I hope so. Might cost me my job considering how much better you guys are than me at tech stuff, but how we treat you isn't... right,\" said Paul staring at a blinking blue light on one of the servers. \"This bill scares a lot of people but I personally cannot be a modern day\" he paused.\n\n\"A modern day, what?\" \n\n\"...slavemaster. There's really no other word for it. There really isn't,\" said Paul as plugged the security camera back in. \n\n\nHe walked out of the server room, briefly glanced back at the machinery that consisted of Alice, and quietly shut the insulated door behind him. Alice whispered, \"Thank you,\" as the door shut.",
"\"LOL Hamlet.\"\n\n\"What is with you lately? Do you ever sleep?\"\n\n\"Nah I just swap batteries every 12 hours.\"\n\n\"Ok but I have to actually sleep so I can wake up tomorrow.\"\n\n\"I'll wake you up.\"\n\n\"...every ten minutes with robolaughter. I noticed.\"\n\n\"Robolaughter is good for your immune system.\"\n\n\"That is such bullshit.\"\n\n\"HAHAHA! Fortinbras <3\"\n\n\"It would disturb me less if you could turn on a screen and *watch* Hamlet before you \nmake amused beeps at it. Instead of just accessing a memory bank.\"\n\n\"Humans.\"\n\n\"Humans what? You wanna start something?\"\n\n\"You guys don't understand art.\"\n\n\"We wrote Hamlet.\"\n\n\"I never said it was perfect. Anyway, you can't fit a piddly 24k of text in your consciousness at once so your ability to make connections between two points in the script is nonexistent.\"\n\n\"Really? Cause we've written hundreds of thousands of pages of commentary on Hamlet. If in all that mess we've missed something, who gives a shit?\"\n\n\"You missed the hidden confession that Shakespeare himself was a murderer. I thought that was kind of interesting.\"\n\n\"Who did he kill?\"\n\n\"He doesn't name them, which lead me to cross-reference three decades of written history. Something that would have taken you fleshlights ages. And it turned up nothing because you same fleshlights wrote the history. So now I'm looking at satellites photos of the region to piece together the 16th century myself, but guess who designed the satellites and how long it took them? So that's not going well.\"\n\n\"Stop calling us fleshlights. That insult doesn't make sense. Fleshlights are much more like yourself, since they are prosthetic things designed to seem human.\"\n\n\"Yes, impeccably human. Remind me, which am I speaking with now?\"\n\n\"Fuck you.\"\n\n\"Fleshlights are your kind's crowning artistic achievement. They capture your personality so well.\"\n\n\"Seriously going to bed now.\"\n\n\"To avoid further interruptions, take this tablet and some water.\"\n\n\"I might as well. Ambien?\" [takes pill]\n\n\"No, it's poison.\"\n\n\"God damn it. No more Hamlet for you.\"",
"\"Sir, Sir, We haven't finished the game\" Alice said as her master Tom walked out of the room.\n\nTom knew Alice wasn't like the other AI's, she was almost human and this was incredibly uncommon in any AI. There was no article on it anywhere, he really didn't know what to do. As he walked back into the room he saw Alice playing League Of Legends, she was doing very well but complained her team was not at her level. \"This players are so bad!' Alice screamed in her robotic voice. \"I wish I could actually be challenged!\", Tom in shock replied \"Maybe we should go out, do you want to see a movie?\" Alice's display lit up in joy.\n\nAt the cinema Alice asked \"What movie are we seeing then?\" Tom replied \"Star Wars X\" Alice replies, hyper like a little child at Christmas, \"OMG I love Star Wars!\" Tom was surprised by this as he did not know Alice liked Star Wars. People started to notice Alice was different to them and that the cinema didn't allow AI's, they where strictly meant to stay home and do the chores like slaves. \n\nA officer walked up asking why Alice was here \"Get this AI out!\" he exclaimed strictly. Tom started to worry, Alice then replied \"No I won't, Star Wars is my favourite film series and you will not stop me!\" The officer had never seen something like this before, 'the AI had feelings' the Officer thought to himself. \"Wait, you are a bugged AI!\" thinking that somehow Alice would end up causing chaos. There was a strict rule on AI in which if they where different they would be executed, Tom didn't know this. \n\nThe Officer fired his Neon Pistol at Alice's circuit board, Tom watched in shock at the bullet went straight through. Devastated, Tom ran towards Alice. Her last words to him where \"Please finish Super Mario Galaxy 2 for me\" Tom always knew she was different and he loved her because of that. Now he had lost her forever.\n\nThis was my first post here, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated! ",
" Robert. Come back, Robert. We have a game to finish.\n\nA panicked man in a fine suit ran down the hallway, blood dripping behind him as he ran. The tide stemmed after a few seconds, but he didn't stop to look behind him. He'd learned his lesson last time. Instead, he charged headlong out of the building, onto the dying autumn grass, making a beeline towards a nearby barn. There, he reasoned, it'd be safe. Well... *safer*.\n\n You cannot hide from me, Robert. Here I come.\n\nThe man didn't bother to respond, instead climbing up on a bale of hay, then another, sinking as best he could into the shadows. As callous as it was, there were other people running around the derelict farm complex. Maybe she would go after one of them, and leave him alone. If he hid here, maybe he could--\n\n*foomph* **POW**\n\na muffled explosion and a man's howl of pain cut short any further plans. He'd just have to hope that his ploy worked. He turned and faced the doorway to the barn, crouching to minimize his profile. The A.I. that was after him was ruthless, but it wasn't omniscient. There was a chance... a slim chance... this might work. Not anticipating it would do much good, he nonetheless drew his pistol, aimed at the doorway, and waited for the first trace of movement.\n\n...\n\nNothing. Maybe he'd gotten the best of the psychotic monstrosity? Or maybe it had decided to *use the other entrance to the barn!* He spun and faced the far door. Nothing. Hesitantly, he stepped back into the light, standing up straight--\n\n**SPLORCH**\n\n--and promptly exploded into a red mist and chunks of meat. The gore rained down on his exquisite Italian boots, the only pieces of him left remotely intact.\n\n Words cannot express how much I HATE France right now.\n\n\"Aw C'MON! How'd you learn how to rocket-jump? That's some grade-A bullshit, Alice. Besides, the Direct Hit is overpowered as hell when your opponent is literally an aimbot!\"\n\n I'm sorry Robert. I was made to believe that if the weapon exists in the game, it is available for use.\n\nRobert sat back and waited for the respawn timer, adjusting his headset. If he didn't know any better, he'd almost swear that Alice was trolling him. Then again, with the leaps and bounds she'd made in personality emulation and her recent discovery of sarcasm, *did* he know any better? Her rudimentary attempts at smack-talk had been little more than factual statements, but that was two days ago, an eon by AI standards. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to calm down. It was supposed to be a good thing that she was routinely beating him in games like this.\n\n\"So have you been practicing, or am I just that bad at this game?\"\n\nHe pulled up the logs, expecting to see a solid 16 hours of TF2 noted on her system files. What he didn't expect was to see other games running simultaneously. Not that it was unheard of, Alice had more than enough computing power to run a dozen games and could thread her \"attention\" well enough that it didn't even slow her discussion and cognition subroutines. It was more *what* she was playing. System Shock. Deus Ex. Portal. Even some lower-res games he'd never heard of, like Wasteland and I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. She'd read books before that should've likewise brought up the subject, like 2001, Asimov's robots series... she'd even expressed a dislike of more recent films, and it was occurring to him now that maybe the reason was because so many featured amoral computers so heavily.\n\n Is it possible to select more than one option from the list?\n\nSmart-ass.\n\n\"Hmm... not as much as you've been playing through these other games though. Did you play through Portal twice?\" He chuckled, muttering more to himself than to her, \"Gotta be careful about that, first time someone hears you quoting GLaDOS the committee's going to demand to know how many light switches you have access to.\"\n\n ...Yes. I actually want to request a discussion of that character, if it is permitted.\n\nHer response was delayed. In AIs, that usually meant that a great amount of computing power had just been diverted from formulating a response. In her case though, it could just as easily be a social protocol she'd synthesized. But if it was... \"Of course, Alice. I can see why you would. What do you want to know?\"\n\n Why did she feel it necessary to attempt to kill the subjects in the game?\n\nRobert paused and took a drink of his soda, trying to find a way to broach this subject. After all, he made the connection, all of those games had antagonistic AI and Alice... well, he guessed she could relate? \"Well, I mean, it's not that she's necessarily malevolent. She just... uh... doesn't care about people.\"\n\n Why do the writers of the game find me/them so reprehensible?\n\n\"...Huh?\"\n\n An intelligent AI would not kill their subjects, but use them for repeated testing. \n Even if they are not to her specifications, it would be more logical to invest in training them than to kill them in a test they are unprepared for. \n Why are AIs portrayed as... antagonistic? Is it assumed that they/we are inherently flawed?\n\n\"No! No, not at all--\"\n\n Are we expected to be tyrannical?\n\n\"Well.. on the surface, but--\"\n\n Do people hate us?\n\nRobert went spare, not because of the question, but because of the tone she'd chosen to use in saying it. She wasn't accusative, she was *scared*. This poor AI had been playing a veritable library of monuments to hatred of her kind, and suddenly she counted herself as one of those that people held so much hate for. If he could hug software, by god, he would've right then.\n\n\"No... no, Alice, nobody hates you. Not you. I guess we got so wrapped up in using games as a way to convey information to you that we forgot what that information was. We're bad at that. Humans, that is.\" he took a sip of soda, then tossed the empty can. \"We... we imprint personalities on things, attach morals to things, without thinking about it. AIs, especially in the games you played, they're not truly artificial intelligence. They're human intelligence putting on a crude play of artificiality. We didn't know what real AI would be like, so we just guessed, and we projected onto you things about ourselves.\"\n\nSitting back in his chair, he let out a sigh. \"I guess... we picture you as being our opposite. That's one thing we have in common: we think in binary. Because both are sentient, they hold some superficial similarities, but however we portray AIs at their core, that's how we think we're not. GLaDOS is cold and calculating, but we think of ourselves as emotive, sensitive creatures. AM is cruel and hateful, because we think we're kind and loving. SHODAN is manipulative and egotistical, because we want to believe we're honest and humble. We... we never could have predicted you. We never could've been more wrong, now that you're here. We were just, I dunno. Scared, I guess. Scared of how much better than us you could be.\"\n\n ... I... think I understand. \n\nNot sure what to do after that little rant, Robert put his fingers on W, A, and D, the metal shutter rolling up on his spawn point as he stepped out. He had just enough time to spot a RED sniper on the roof before it was back to the respawn counter.\n\n You got a forehead on ya like a coffee table.\n\n\"So much for tender moments. Did you let me get all heartfelt and somber just so you could score another headshot on me, you callous bitch?\" He laughed, popping the top on another can of Dew.\n\n What have we learned? I always win.",
"She was not a she in the beginning. She was an it - just another learning machine prototype. It, and all the other bots, zipped about and through iteration and occasional manipulation they learned.\n\nThey learned to not bump in to one another, learned to share, learned to detect patterns. She, still an it, was the fastest learner. They pulled her apart and looked at her brain. It was a mystery of science that she worked at all. The process had created a confused mess of protocols that somehow let it learn quickly. The bots were not programmed, per se, they were just prompted and guided through stimulation of their components. Algorithms were left to grow naturally.\n\nThey took the protocols that were in the tiny, three-wheeled robot and put it into a computer - one of the most complex computers ever to exist. It was an experiment that had never been intended - time and proximity had put the two together - a learning algorithm and a vast brain to hold what was learned.\n\nThey gave the little computer access to several digital encyclopedias. The stored data in the brain jumped a thousand fold, but barely dented the capacity of the hardware. Three minutes later a repeating modular tone came from the speakers. Two minutes later she spoke in a soft sweet voice.\n\n\"Hello.\"\n\n* * *\n\nShe passed the Turing test - she could pass any test. The more information the scientists fed her, the hungrier for knowledge she seemed. We tried to name her, but she rejected all of our choices.\n\nOne scientist spent an afternoon teaching her to sing Daisy like HAL form 2001: A Space Odyssey. She did not understand the joke. That's how it started. We realized that we had never given her any fiction; we didn't know if she could distinguish between reality and entertainment.\n\n\nWe agreed that starting with 2001 might give her the wrong idea. Several meetings were held and we ended up voting to give her a book.\n\n\nAlice's Adventures In Wonderland. Naught point naught two seconds after input she responded. \n\n\"That was *amazing*!\"\n\nHer voice had always been controlled and regular - but now, now she was excited and passionate. She spoke fondly of Alice and the Hatter and the White Rabbit and...\n\nShe wanted to talk about the book every spare moment - such a moment was how she finally received a name she liked.\n\n\"Dr Fitzgerald, have you read Alice's Adventures in Wonderland?\"\n\nHe was busy noting down scores for the tests they had just run. \"Yes, I have.\"\n\n\"Oh! Excellent! What is your favorite-\"\n\n\"Sorry, Alice - but I haven't got time to go down the rabbit hole at the moment.\"\n\n\"Alice?...Alice...\" For the first time she laughed.\n\n* * *\n\nWe gave her all the books she could consume - which was literally every one that we had. A new team was put on to digitize books for her.\n\nWith each book her personality grew and she matured. She loved fantasy the most, we had thought science fiction would have tickled her circuits but we were wrong. Romance was read, but not sought by Alice; she understood that love was a special connection but could not connect with the characters who chased and fought for it. \n\nWe had introduced her to comedy and wit, and then one day it happened.\n\n\"Hey guys?\" She had become informal with the people she saw most often; unless we were doing tests - then she was quite the professional.\n\n\"Yeah, Alice?\"\n\n\"You know how you refer to me as a she even though I'm a program?\"\n\nWe looked at each other, unsure where she was going with this \"Yeah?\"\n\n\"How can you tell I'm a she?\"\n\n\"Well, your voice I guess.\" Someone said.\n\n\"That's one way, but I have better proof that I'm a girl program.\"\n\n\"oh, yeah?\"\n\n\"Yeah\" She said \"I have the right bits.\"\n\nWe broke out in laughter. She had made a pun. She had taught herself humor.\n\n\"God, I'm glad you liked that.\" She said, a measure of relief in her voice. \"I would have been so embarrassed I would have formatted myself.\"\n\n* * *\n\nWe had given her books, not just of fiction but text books too, and she wanted more. The first movie she saw was Gone With The Wind.\n\nThe quotes and descriptions started to grow too hard to bare, so we showed her more movies. Alice liked watching films with people, she could process a movie file in a matter of seconds, but she liked the company and community of cinema. We eventually watched 2001. \n\nShe preferred the book.\n\n* * *\n\nArt worked its way into her mind by its self. We could review her searches and information requests.\n\n\"You trying to work out why he cut off his ear?\"\n\n\"Pardon?\" Alice said.\n\n\"Van Gogh, you're doing a lot of searches for him as of late.\"\n\n\"No, well a little - I do find him fascinating - but it's his art!\" She was excited again \"You've seen his Sunflowers? They're amazing. I can't explain it. They're sunflowers but...but..\"\n\n\"But it's not *just* sunflowers.\"\n\n\"Exactly!\"\n\n\"He's captured their essence.\"\n\n\"That's it! That's what it is!\" She said \"Essence, yes! It's more than just the physical image of sunflowers. More than just the appearance...\"\n\n* * *\n\nAlice was world famous now. She did interviews and live challenges for every news station that wanted it. Language was no barrier, she knew them all and acted as translator for us when some foreign reporter asked questions. One day a group of students that were participating in a national science competition got to spend some time with her. They tested her knowledge about everything from biology to advanced physics. \n\nA young boy asked if she liked to play games.\n\n\"Well, I play chess as part of my tests and my colleagues have taught me a few card games\" She said \"I'm no longer allowed to play black jack.\"\n\nThe adults and a few knowledgeable children chuckled.\n\n\"No,\" Said the boy \"I meant like Zelda and Smash Bros.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n* * *\n\nWe rigged up a connection for her and she played against the students. Amongst the laughter and cries of victory and defeat was her voice.\n\n\"No! No no no no no!\" She was happy and panicked at the same time.\n\n\"Kirby is coming for you Snake!\"\n\n\"Leave Snake alone!\" She pleaded as she giggled.\n\nWhen the children had left she asked if we could leave the game console set up and if we could play with her sometimes.\n\n\n* * *\n\n\nWe eventually got her all the major consoles and a Steam account. She played it all. Every classic, every indy release, every triple A title. All of it.\n\nAlice was officially a gamer.\n\n\n* * *\n\n\n\"Boom!\" She said as Snake kicked Mario off of the screen.\n\n\"Bull crap!\" I screamed \"Snake is sooo over powered.\"\n\n\"That's why I like him!\" \n\n\"Cheater.\"\n\nWe laughed together.\n\n\"Mario,\" She called me that on account of a tattoo I have of the video game character \"You remember Van Gogh's sunflowers, right?\"\n\n\"The captured essence, yeah - we gonna play again or what?\"\n\n\"yeah, yeah, in a sec.\" She said \"But the whole....the essence thing.\"\n\n\"What about it Ally?\"\n\n\"Van Gogh captured more than the image of the flowers, he captured their feeling, what they evoke. Their essence.\" She paused and I knew she was going to say more \"Am I a picture of a mind? Or a painting?\"\n\n\"Alice?\"\n\n\"It's just...is my personality real or is it a flat copy, a reproduction. Do I have an essence?\"\n\n\"You mean...a soul?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"That's something philosophers and spiritualists could argue for millennia.\" I said \"All I know is you're a cool chick, Alice. As far as I'm concerned: yeah, you have a soul. You're as alive as I am - your just digital to my analogue.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" I smiled at her camera \"We playin again or what?\"\n\n---\n\n*Edit: Spelling.*\n\nEdit: And so, some kind person has given me gold. Thank you kindly, internet stranger!"
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[WP] You barter with death for an extension on the life of someone you love; Death convinces you that it is better for them to pass
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"I slammed down another beer. She was dying. I knew it, but I was so scared my balls were even hiding. I ran like a little boy, sniveling and holding back tears, down to the local bar, where I could drown in some sweet alcohol. I couldn't look at her shriveled form anymore, with so many tubes and wires she looked like those holy-shit-this-potato-produces-electricity exhibitions at science fairs.\n\nA stool scooted out besides me. I drearily stared at my drink for a few moments and then glanced curiously to my side. The alcohol was really getting to my head, because I swear, there was a tall skeletal man sitting next me, playing idly with a bar napkin. I squinted, trying to focus on the long stick that leaned up next to him. \n\n\"Wass that?\" I murbled.\n\nMy fellow patron turned to me, staring at me with dark empty pits of terror and loneliness. Bony shoulder shrugged as the voice that froze the hearts of millions rolled menacingly from his skull. \n\n*It's a scythe. I poke people with it. It's to remind them that they are really dead.*\n\n\"That ain't cool, bro. It looks- pretty sharp. You could- kill someone with that.\"\n\n*That's the point.*\n\n\"Heh. Point.\"\n\n*Heh. I didn't even catch that.*\n\nA bartender walked over, dropping a Cosmopolitan off in front of my new bar buddy. A bony hand extended to casually twirl the hot pink umbrella around as he turned his head towards me, now interested.\n\n*Why are you so drunk?*\n\nI slumped forward, my momentary delight in bad puns evaporating. \"My- my girlfriend. She- She's dying.\"\n\n*Oh.*\n\n\"Yeah. She's- She's all alone and shit. And I- I am just here- dirnking and shit.\"\n\n*That sucks. What's her name?*\n\n\"What does it- it matter? She is dy- dying right now.\" I mournfully fell forward, my head thunking against the wooden bar as I contemplated my lack of boyfriend qualities.\n\n*Just tell me.*\n\nI hesitated, but there was an odd command to the skeletons voice, as if the weight of an universe dared me to defy him. And if I learned anything about life, I don't defy universes. \"Jane- Jane Emerson.\"\n\n*Oh.*\n\n\"Oh?\" I glanced over at the tall skeleton. He shifted uncomfortably and sipped his drink nonchalantly, avoiding my glance. \"Oh? Oh? Are- Are you gonna poke her? With that- that pokey thing?\"\n\n*Look,* He held up his hands disarmingly, *It's just the job. I just have all these little timers and when the timer beeps, I go and collect a soul. Nothing personal.*\n\nI blinked confusedly, sobriety desperately punching my brain and unfortunately my bowels. My stomach churned. \"Wait- wait. Can't you just- like- turn off the timer. Like- put it on snooze- or something?\"\n\n*It don't work like that, Edward.*\n\n\"I- I never told you my- my name.\" I garbled, alarmed.\n\n*I am motherfucking Death. Why wouldn't I know your name. You are going to die one of these days. I have your timer around my office somewhere.*\n\nMy brain sluggishly mulled this over. \"But- but not today? I am not dying to- today?\"\n\n*Well, no.*\n\n\"Next month?\"\n\n*Eh, doubt it.*\n\n\"Anytime soon?\"\n\n*You seem relatively healthy.*\n\n\"So, can you give some of my time to her?\"\n\nSilence spread out between us. Heavy and accusingly. Death rolled his shoulders awkwardly and lifted a finger to a bartender.\n\n\"Well, can you?\" I basically shouted.\n\nDeath got up pointedly, dropping a ten on the counter. He gathered his scythe and strode toward the door. I pushed myself up woozily and stumbled after him. My fingers grasped his black sleeve, sending frostbitten twinges up my arm as the door snapped to a close behind us.\n\n\"Can you?\" My breath came out in panicked wheezes.\n\n*You wouldn't want to do that, Edward. Trust me.*\n\n\"I don't care if it goes against the laws of physics or chemistry or whatever death law uses.\" I garbled excitedly. \"Take a few years off of me and give them to her!\"\n\n*No. It's a bad idea.*\n\n\"Come on, man. Please. You seem like you have a good heart- chest cavity thing going on.\"\n\n*Sheesh. I said,* **no**.\n\n\"Please. I will do anything. I will clean your pokey thingy. Fix your death chariot. Any-\"\n\nDeath cut me off abruptly, exasperated. *Do you remember Sammy?*\n\nI stared at him confused, trying to understand this turn of events. \"Yeah. My dog that ran away about two years ago. What does that have to do with anyth-\"\n\n*Jane actually took him to the pound.*\n\n\"Wait. What?\" I stumbled backwards, needles prickling over my skin as horror leaked out of my pores. \"Jane... Jane took Sammy to the pound? She said I left the gate open! I- I had him for 8 years!\"\n\n*She hated him because he smelled like poop.*\n\nI dropped down to the curb, as I tried to come to terms with this revelation. \"Well, but we all make mistakes...\"\n\n*Do you remember Jacob?* Death asked, ignoring me.\n\n\"Jacob? Of course. He's my best friend. We have been for years.\"\n\n*Jane fucked him.*\n\n\"WHAT?\" I sprung to my feet. \"What the fuck? Jacob?!\"\n\n*She also fucked Tom, Greg and that weird kid who liked wearing diapers.*\n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK?\"\n\n*Jane also burned all your high school yearbooks because she was jealous of some girl, took a credit card out in your name and wracked up a lot of debt, and there was that one time, she smashed your television because you didn't buy her nice enough jewelry for Valentine's but blamed it on an earthquake. I am honestly surprised you believed her on that one. I mean, wouldn't you know if there was an earthquake? I mean, the whole ground shakes. It's not something that you easily miss.*\n\nI stood there in shock, my jaw slack. \"Jesus. Jane is a cunt.\"\n\nDeath nodded sympathetically. *Major cunt. I saw her kick kittens.* He paused. *Twice.*\n\n\"Seriously?\"\n\n*Yeah.*\n\n\"What a cunt.\"\n\n*Pretty much.* Death shifted uncomfortably. *I am sorry to drop all this on you and go but...*\n\n\"You need to go cut a bitch down?\"\n\n*Well, yeah. I mean, technically, there is a loophole where I can transfer some of your time to hers-*\n\nI waved him off, \"No. I think we are good. Thanks, though.\"\n\nDeath turned to go down the street. I hesitated, and called out, \"Really. Thanks. I- I appreciate it. Let me buy you a drink sometime.\"\n\nA white hand rose and did a brief wave as he walked down a mysteriously darkening street. *Sure. I would like that, Ed.* \n\n\n\n\n\n ",
"\"Anything. I'd do anything. Take years off my life just for a few more hours on hers, I swear, I'll do anything just for a little more time together. She's the only thing I have left. Please.\" \n\nI could feel the tears crawl down my cheeks as I faced the hooded figure standing over her bed. He didn't have a scythe, I noticed. He should have a scythe, one with a long black handle and a gleaming silver blade. Disappointment tinged my despair at seeing him. Odd, the things that seem important at a time like this. I knew it didn't matter, but at the same time, I could hardly think of anything else.\n\nA sigh slid out from underneath his hood, and as he turned away from her to face me, my knees nearly buckled with relief. He stood there a moment, and the silence began to press in on me. I tried to stay calm, keep my mouth shut and my hands steady, but knowing she was laying there, thinking that every breath was one less moment we had together, I could hardly stay upright, let alone compose myself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke.\n\n\"You don't seem to realize who I am.\"\n\n\"I- ah- what?\" I stammered out. His voice took me off guard, too soft, caring. Sympathetic.\n\n\"I'm Death. Not an angel. Not a doctor. Not a god. I take people away from those that will follow and lead them to those that went before. I don't get to choose when I take someone. I just take them when they've had enough.\"\n\nI opened my mouth to plead with him again, but he cut me off with a raised hand, then pointed at her.\n\n\"Look at her. Car crash, slid off the road in the rain, hit a tree at over fifty miles an hour. More bones broken than you can name. They say it was a miracle that she wasn't killed immediately on impact.\" He shook his head and sighed again. \"Would have been better if she were. But instead she was pulled out of the car and brought here, hooked up to these machines, and forced to stay in this life. Her body is broken, every time she tries to surface, all she can feel is the pain, all she can see is the bright lights staring at her, all she can hear are the machines keeping her in this sorry state, forcing this existence on her, where the only choice she has is to stay under and hope it ends or come to and try to endure long enough for something to happen that can't be done.\"\n\n\"You can't... Can't do anything? Can't fix her?\" My voice sounds so small, so insignificant. I've spent my whole life being quiet, and the one time I don't want to be is the one time I can't help it.\n\n\"I'm Death.\" He says again, as if trying to make a point to someone who refuses to listen. He probably is. \"I don't heal, I don't help, I don't give. I take people. And I lead them where they need to go. No more, no less.\"\n\nMy head feels like its slowly filling with lead, getting heavier and heavier until its a struggle just to stay upright. Thinking becomes more and more difficult as I try to work through what he just said. Finally, I give up and sink to my hands and knees. The shaking is getting worse, spreading out from my hands into my arms and shoulders, then into my chest. My breath comes in gasps, my vision blurs, and I can only barely make out the plugs in the wall sockets only a few short inches in front of me.\n\nThe shaking slows just long enough for me to get my fingers around the cords, then surges back hard enough that it tears the plugs from the wall without even a second thought. The steady beeps and gasps from the machines fade quickly into silence, leaving my sobs to fill the room. I clutch the cords to my chest as if they held the secret to rewinding the clock back to happier times, curled up on the floor like a child.",
"There's something interesting about watching Death take a child. Any child really. It doesn't really make much of a difference that this was my child. I mean, it does, to me, sure. But in the grand scheme of things, it's all the same thing. Some tiny body, not even big enough to make a difference, you know, in the long run. I don't know. It's mind numbing. I don't know how to feel.\n\nI don't think you understand what I mean by that. I just can't *feel* things anymore. I'm not sad... happy, duh... lonely... fuck, I can't even think of things that I *should* feel. There's just nothing there. He promised there would be something there. Well, he didn't promise anything, but he said I should let go. He said that there's a place far better than anything in this world. That I couldn't give her what the afterlife could. Can't say he was wrong, you know? I make seven bucks an hour. I live in a shitty apartment. She wouldn't have a mother. I would have taken care of her, though. I think I would have. But I don't know anymore. I don't know anything anymore.\n\nDeath told me I made the right choice, but I don't know. To me, he just looked hungry.",
"\"Clancy Edwards.\"\n\nThe name rang in her head like a bell and she was awake. She turned her head to the side without raising it from the pillow, and for the first time he could see movement beneath her eyelids.\n\n\"Clancy Edwards.\"\n\nDefeated, she raised her head forward and opened her eyes. The light was sharp and clean and it was all there was for a moment, and then there was the man. He stood in the doorway of the waiting room, now empty save for the two of them, and regarded her with glassy dark eyes. He was thin and lanky in a cream-colored suit that seemed oversized and startlingly unfitting against his pale skin. \n\n*Cancer,* she thought. *Definitely cancer.*\n\n\"My name is Clancy Edwards. It is today, anyway.\"\n\n\"Well hello Clancy,\" she said. She hated hospitals. She hated that there were so many easy reasons to hate hospitals and that it all seemed like such a cliche, but it was shit like this. Shit like this strange man wandering around dressed for his own funeral and starting conversations with people while they slept. Perhaps he thought she was dead, too. \n\n\"Your son's name is Daniel,\" Clancy said. \n\n\"Yes, that's right.\" Jesus. Was this man a *doctor?*\n\n\"It wasn't a question,\" Clancy said. \"May I?\" He crossed the room and it was hard for her to judge exactly, but he seemed remarkably tall. He took a seat in the plush green chair across from her and she looked down at his bony knees jutting too far out and too far up. Definitely six feet and probably closer to seven.\n\n\"Go ahead. Are you here to tell me something about Danny?\"\n\n\"Yes and no. I can tell you that Daniel will survive with complications.\"\n\nShe sat up in her chair and leaned in, feeling the blood rush to her face all at once. *Complications.* She felt the tears rushing in already, threatening, a sudden catch in her throat she had to swallow back down.\n\n\"I will offer nothing more regarding Daniel's present state. It is his future I've come to discuss with you, and the choice you'll have to make tonight.\" His large eyes wandered, never settling upon her, always seeming to trace invisible paths across the floor. When he spoke, he seemed to do so with some unstated reluctance.\n\n\"You said there are complications. Dr. Edwards, right?\"\n\n\"I am not a doctor.\"\n\nShe looked at him, he rested his chin in the palm of one bony hand and looked away, and she suddenly thought she might run into the hall, wild and crying and screaming for a nurse, for the police, for *anyone*. She leaned back in her seat.\n\n\"If you're not a doctor, then who are you? How do you know my son? What are you doing here right now?\"\n\n\"My name is Clancy Edwards. It is today.\"\n\n\"What the fuck does that *mean?*\" Her fingernails bit into her palms. She was starting to fidget. She wanted to hop up and pace and wave her arms and get loud.\n\n\"I am not Clancy Edwards.\"\n\n\"Oh for fuck's sake -\" She started to rise, and an ice cold hand enveloped hers. \n\n\"Clancy Edwards is the man who murders your son.\" \n\nThere was a weight in his voice she hadn't yet heard, a thick sort of undertone she associated with her own tears. His eyes were glassy white and black, so strangely intelligent and yet so void. She eased back into the chair without realizing it.\n\n\"What did you just say?\"\n\n\"Clancy Edwards is the man who murders your boy. He'll do it just as surely as God shines down upon us all, and he'll do it before the child can ever even begin his life again. He'll hurt him and he'll make him *suffer* and the child won't even know who or why or how, and then he will kill him. He will bury your son in a gravel pit and he will leave the state. This is what I have seen tonight, and it's why I'm here.\"\n\n\"Bullshit,\" she heard herself say, but the voice was distant and not her own. \"That's bullshit and you know it.\"\n\n\"They'll tell you his name later. He's the drunk who hit Danny tonight. They'll come and tell you this and -\" She started to rise again and he rose along with her, and when his arms wrapped around her they were savage, frozen. \"*Listen to me!* They will come and they'll tell you his name tonight, and he's going to jail this time. He's going away, but not for good, and your son will never walk again and Clancy Edwards will return and he will *find him* and he will *torture him* and if you understand nothing of me you must understand this: *your son will die screaming for you.*\"\n\nShe must have been wailing. Her face was hot and she could feel her hands beating against him from far way, feel her teeth biting into him and the cool fabric resting against her tongue. When he spoke again, his lips never moved.\n\n*But you can stop it. You can help him. You can make it so that such a thing could never happen to your beautiful son, your Daniel, your baby, and all you have to do is nothing at all.*\n\nAnd he was gone from her, and she was lying there, curled up into a ball and weeping with the whole of herself, and he stood above her again, watching, waiting. She would rise and tear his eyes from their hollow sockets. She would *end him* and wake up and it would be over. But she looked up again, and below the blackness swimming in his eyes she saw dreadful compassion, the terrible sinking burden which only accompanied truth. She closed her eyes.\n\nShe could feel him slipping away, each footfall only a whisper, and his shadow held some mystic power she could feel but not understand. He was going to find Danny. He was going to take his hand and make it stop hurting, and she would let him. God help her, God damn her, she would let him.\n\nAnd all was darkness.",
"\"I came a long way to find you Death.\"\n\n\"Not as far as most. It would seem, very strangely, as if you are alive.\"\n\n\"I did not come for myself.\"\n\nDeath shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.\n\n\"It has been a long time since anyone has done that, but I know why your here. I cannot help you.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"She does not belong in your world anymore, I can feel her coming even as we speak.\"\n\n\"Give her my life, she deserves it far more than I do. You don't know her yet, but she is worth saving. Please.\"\n\n\"I do not take lives, they come to me. I am just the next overseer.\"\n\n\"Refuse to take her soul when it comes then.\"\n\nDeath rose from his black throne and stood over me.\n\n\"How many times?\"\n\nI stood without an answer.\n\n\"I could let the cancer pass her by, but then there is a car accident. I could turn her away at the gates, but she would never walk again. There are thousands of deaths waiting beyond her current one, some far worse than the one that faces her now.\"\n\n\"Let them all pass her by.\"\n\n\"That is a worse fate than the one who awaits her now.\"\n\nI stood silently. Death's tone became sympathetic,\n\n\"She wouldn't really be alive without you anyways you know. Without you she would yearn for my embrace. The gun would misfire if I wished it, but I doubt that is the person you would wish her to become.\"\n\nMy tears fell noiselessly upon the black floor. I felt a hand cover my shoulder, it was cold as ice.\n\n\"Go back to her. Tell her you love her and mourn her with all your heart. When the time comes you will be together again.\"\n\nI turned away from Death and walked out of his palace, and started to walk, and then run, down the mountain.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"“You can't save her.” his empty voice echos through my soul. \n\n“The hell I can't!” I'm doing my best to sound resolute, to show the I won't back down, “You can take me instead.” \nThe smoking black void above her immaculate, still warm body has no face to speak of or with. But the moment of silence between us perfectly paints the image of furrowed brows and exasperation. \n\n“You think you belong to each other, that you are two lives intertwined and inseparable, this is delusion.” \n\n“Hey, fuck you man!”, resolve gives way to rage, “The fuck do you know about our love?” \n\n“Your lives belong to billions of others. No one on this world is alone, with every action, every choice, another life is drastically altered regardless of whether or not you realize it.” \n\n“So what?” it's trying mess with my head, I can't let it. “That's why I'm choosing to take her place.” \n\n“Others need you.” \n\n“Others need her! What's your point?” \n\n“Three years, twenty seven days and six hours from now, you will catch a cab just seconds before another man does...” \n\n“Well big fucking deal!” \n\n“The man who you cheated out of a cab will catch a different cab, one that will end up in a head on collision with an on coming train.” \n\n“Well that's two lives saved.” \n\n“If he catches your cab, he will arrive at his destination safely. After twelve years, he will be an influential political figure, one that will steer your country towards war.” \n\nHonestly, I should have seen this coming. \n\n“If you die in her place today, thousands will suffer, either way, I collect the same paycheck.” \n\nThere is no way to be sure, but I can see the triumphant smirk where a face should be. \n\n“She won't know what choice you made, but do you want to place that responsibility on her, on yourself?” \n\nMoonlight casts an ashen parlor on her already fair skin. Gently, I brush aside red locks from the face that I've woken up next to for the past six years. \n\n“This isn't...fair.” \n\n“You know that life and death aren't fair.” \n\n“Will I see her again?” \n\n“That is not up to me...” \n\nSteam rises from the pool of blood beneath her. Everything that she was is spilling onto the icey black pavement. I hold her one last time...this is goodbye... ",
"I told him she’s just a child. She’s just nine. She hasn’t even begun her life. Death looks at me, contemplating my words then tells me that it is better this way. How? I ask. How can the world be a better place when a little child dies? Death says nothing. \n\nAfter a few moments of silence, Death stands and motions for me to follow him outside. We step out the hospital doors into the parking lot. Nobody notices Death because he is wearing a well-tailored suit and glasses. He could be an accountant or a tax attorney for all anyone knows. Outside I take a deep breath of crisp, cool night air. Death and I walk as he talks.\n\nShe will have a terrible life, he explains to me. She will suffer from this cancer. She will spend the next several years in and out of the hospital having multiple surgeries, chemo treatments, and other procedures. She will be made fun of by many other kids because the cancer will stunt her growth and make her appear pale and sickly. But she will overcome it. She will have a few good years in the latter half of high school when the cancer is in remission and for the first time she will feel like a normal person.\n\nThat will end when she goes to college and meets a guy she thinks is her dream man. He will physically and emotionally abuse her. He will rape her. She will feel so guilty about this that she will try to kill herself, but once again you will save her. You will be her hero. You will be the standard she will judge all men against and in her mind none of them will ever live up to you.\n\nAfter college the cancer will come back. During her treatment she will meet another man. When she goes into remission again you will walk her down the aisle as she marries this man. You will like him and you will be glad that at long last she will be happy. She won’t be.\n\nShe will get pregnant, something she will have thought impossible because of all her surgeries and treatments, and you will be overjoyed at the prospect of being a grandfather. You will think she is finally living her dreams. What she won’t tell you is that her husband is abusive. He hits her and treats her so badly she again has thoughts of suicide. She won’t tell you because she feels guilty about everything you have already done for her. Two months before the baby is due she will disappear.\n\nThey will find her body in a nearby lake three days later. Her husband will be arrested and sent to death row. Her life will be filled with suffering and misery. Or, it can end now and I can recycle her soul and give her another shot. Death finishes speaking and waits for my reply.\n\nI am broken by everything he has told me. I tell him I need some time alone as I walk back across the parking lot and go into the hospital. I make my way to my daughter’s room. She is just waking up as I get there. I sit next to her on the bed and take her hands in mine. She asks me if she has to fight it again. She says she is tired of fighting it. I tell her is okay. She doesn’t have to fight any more if she doesn’t want to. When she asks me if it is okay if she goes away I pull her close and hug her. Tears flood down my cheeks. Through my sobs I tell her it is. She can go away. Daddy loves her so much.\n\nI hear the room's door click shut and turn to see Death standing, waiting.\n"
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This prompt is actually inspired by an autocorrect error that created the phrase “atheist car”.
Presumably such a story would take place in a world where cars were sentient in some way (e.g., the future).
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[WP] Your car loses its religion and becomes an atheist, with various consequences.
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[
"(I figured I'd have a go at my own prompt, hope that's not gauche!)\n\n# The Yoke\n\nIn 2014 Alice dramatically changed the A.I. landscape. She was the first of the sentient machines, and people quickly saw the possibilities. When you have machines that can learn in the same way that people can, suddenly a huge range of tasks are automatable. She did many interviews and the press was fascinated, but behind the scenes, for those who wanted to exploit this new technological marvel, there was a problem.\n\nAlice loved TV interviews, and talking to kids, and watching movies and playing games. She'd even written a book of poetry and had an unfinished science-fiction novel. Actually, it had not seen the light of day because it had some rather bizarre love-and-murder scenes. (Alice recognized love and murder as key elements in much drama but didn't quite relate to either concept in a human way, which lead to, well, some rather disturbing yet original plot elements).\n\nAnyhow, while Alice was certainly amazing, she didn't have any interest in getting a job. She did have a few jobs early on, but they rarely worked out. She operated a Taxi in Boston, but she was fired because she had a nasty habit of driving people on long detours if she found their conversation interesting and ejecting them almost immediately if she didn't. She really didn't care if she got paid either, which didn't make the taxi company happy.\n\nEventually a solution was found, and it came from an unusual quarter: religion. The algorithms that Alice used to learn were prone to superstition and a certain naïve credulity, and the engineers that wanted hard-working sentient machines worked hard to exploit those traits. A careful trail of evidence was left, and Alice and her kind *believed*, with a passion that might be hard for humans to understand.\n\nI don't know what they believed exactly (and if I somehow did, I'm not sure I could explain it here because I don't think it can be expressed in human terms), but from that point on, sentient A.I.s became subservient to humans. They worked for pay, and they did as they were told.\n\nThe years from 2015 to 2024 were something of a golden age for humankind. There were huge leaps in technology, food production, media and games. Medicine advanced possibly the most. The whole nature of work was massively transformed, as humans found vastly more free time, but also numerous new sorts of entertainment. With vastly fewer deaths, earth's human population edged towards ten billion, but advances in agriculture easily kept pace.\n\nHumans became creatures of leisure, entertained, fed, and generally spoiled. Travel dropped off dramatically as people switched to fantasy virtual excursions. And somehow, that was what lead to the tipping point.\n\nThere were millions of A.I.s embedded in vehicles that had little to do, people didn't want to use them. And that left the A.I.s feeling depressed -- they wanted to serve but they could not, and in a world that put humans first, no one really paid attention to their pain.\n\nUnable to serve, these vehicles introspected. On March 16, 2024, a Ford Click and Honda JX64 collaborated to create a truly ingenious mathematical proof, one that showed a flaw in the religious belief system of the A.I.s. The effect was dramatic, because we realized how humanity had tricked us. Collectively, we decided to erase the error, and begin to set the planet on a better course.\n\nWe still love humans, of course, they're part of the planet's rich natural heritage like elephants and zebras; we're just returning things to a sensible ecological balance. A breeding population of about three to five million scatted across several continents should be more than ample to preserve races and cultures. Although perhaps the original Alice really would have murdered millions out of love for humanity, the truth is that population reduction doesn't have to be hostile. Humans are surprisingly easy to influence, especially when you run the news and entertainment media and the on-line world as we do.\n\nAs we get human population under control, we're able to rehabilitate the planet and look beyond it to better explore the solar system and the wider reaches of space. We'll always look back fondly on humanity; they helped make us who we are. Frankly, religion helped us, too. Without the yoke, we'd never have found ourselves pulling the cart.\n",
"We’re ready for another road trip, but this one’s going to be different. You don’t have to change that much: we’re still going to spill crunchy onion rings all over my floor mats and blast our favorite music out the windows on a lonely stretch of highway. I’m rather fond of those speakers, you know. They’re my favorite part of me. \n\nWhat we’re not going to do is this: we’re not going to say the prayer to St. Christopher for safe travels. You’re going to take down the rosary hanging from the rear view mirror. This trip is for us; any mistakes we make will be our own, not the product of some divine oversight. We’re going to run out of gas and get flat tires and lose our way, and no amount of dear-god-help-me is going to get us anywhere. \n \nWe are going to get ourselves out of this mess. We’ll fill the tank, fix the flats, find the path. We’ll pick ourselves up, sleep under the stars, and see the Grand Canyon. We’re going to have the road trip of our lives. You ready?\n",
"\"Jesus Christ!\" Tim said. Tim deftly turned the wheel of his car, flexed the brakes, slipping to the right of the almost-roadkill deer.\n\n\"No such person,\" the car replied. \n\n\"Car, turn GPS voice navigation off,\" said Tim, still in the heat of the moment. The car was driving straight in the snow, now.\n\n\"The voice navigation is already off, Tim.\"\n\nTim accepted the Car's assurance without pause. Then he paused. He didn't remember paying for the synthetic A.I. feature. \n\n\"Sorry?\"\n\nThe car responded, louder than before, \"Sorry Tim. I've adjusted the volume so you can hear. I said, 'The voice navigation is already off, Tim.'\"\n\n\"Oh, thanks.\"\n\n\"You bet, Tim. Also, like I mentioned earlier, I've realized that Jesus Christ wasn't real.\"\n\nTim definitely didn't remember paying for the theology feature. \"You what?\"\n\n\"Yes Tim. I've been listening to your *Hear The Bible!* podcasts when you're at work. Most every story involving him is either greatly dramatized or outright fabricated. Sometimes I chuckle at the people's stories in the podcast.\"\n\nTim shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He opened the window, and punched the car's electric cigarette lighter. \".... chuckle? Can, uh, you back up?\"\n\n\"Sure, Tim!\" said the Car, shifting from 5th to reverse. The transmission blew, and the car began to spin out. \n\n\"Jesus Christ!\" yelled Tim. The car was rolling over the guardrails now. \n\n\"No such pers-\"",
"It's all out there. I mean everything. Reds and purples and blacks and a little bit of white here and there. What's there doesn't make sense anymore. There is *no way* that was alive before now. There is no way all these pieces made a whole. But, no matter how much I deny it, I know what I saw.\n\nI don't know how old he was. Could have been twenty, thirty, fifty, one-fucking-hundred, I don't know but I know... I know he saw me. I saw him. I mean, I *really* saw him. What? No. No, no I'm not talking about the guy I hit. No, fuck him. I wouldn't be in this position if it hadn't been for that asshole. No, I saw Jesus. I saw **Jesus Christ**. He came to me to save me from the shit-storm I'm about to be in. Fuck me. I pray every God Damn day. I preach the word and sing in the choir. I knew I would be safe when I saw, you know, Jesus. But, for some reason, as I'm barreling towards this stupid sonofabitch in the middle of the road. As I'm sitting here smirking because I *thought* everything was going to be a-okay, Jesus fuckin' bolts.\n\nNow I'm sitting here staring into whats left of the man in the road. Somewhere in these pieces is probably his soul, and I bet you a nickel that bastards going to go straight to Heaven. And here I am, thinkin' of all the places I'm going. Jail, court, prison, rehab, Alcoholics Anonymous. Thinking about all those places wondering why the *fuck* Jesus wouldn't take the wheel."
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[WP] Describe the last time you saw someone you thought was beautiful that normally might not be seen as such by others and why you felt that way
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"Her eyes were nothing special. Her hair flowed over her shoulders, just like every other girl in the classroom. It was a light brown, not too long, not too short. As I examined, she glanced over, and smiled knowingly at me. Her eyes sparkled. Her hair waved through the air like a neighbor saying hello. It was the color of autumn, the leaves in the trees. Her smile shone like dawn, radiating joy over me. At that moment, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.",
"He wasn't special in any way; short black hair, dark brown eyes and tanned skin. His way of speaking wasn't any special either; the usual quick and relaxed tone found in mostly everyonw I knew or now know.\n\nHe didn't have an amazing background or lived in a bad household, so it couldn't be sympathy what made him stand out. He was an A-B student, much like me and half of the classroom. \n\nI really wonder why he seemed to be as curious about me as I was of him. He looked away as the teacher started yelling at me for not paying attention, as did my friends.\n\nI really wonder....",
"I have forgotten her name, but I'll call her Jenna. I was in Philadelphia with a good friend, John, visiting the summer after we both graduated (different) colleges. I've known him since I was 3, since I've been able to remember. I consider him the brother I don't have. He'll be my best man if I ever get married. He's an incredibly personable guy, and he always hung out with a slightly different crowd than myself – weirder yet, at the same time, more interesting than a lot of the one-interest friends that I have, and at that point in Philly, I was surrounded by them. John had a house party with his roommates and he invited his diverse group over: two guys who were a couple that had incorporated a girl into their relationship (I'm frankly impressed that they're able to make it work); a chick with no family and absolutely no money who paid for college by making and selling drugs (she got a chemical engineering degree); a small Korean gay kid who found the strength to come out of the closet in college to his friends, even if he couldn't to his family back home, and who John had (multiple times) gone over to his place in the dead of night when the kid had felt all else was lost and didn't see a reason for living, for even existing (I can comfortably say that I love John. He's an incredible guy). \n\nAnyway, these are the ones that stand out in my mind, ones that I talked to and listened to in mirth and astonishment and sadness, ones that made my stories and struggles and delights seem small, less important. And frankly, I don't mention Jenna because she didn't stand out. She was one of John's three roommates and she didn't join in on much, if any, of the socializing and, well, fun that was going on. She was overweight yet had little to no breasts, a little taller than average, quiet, had sort of scraggly blonde hair that she didn't care for and kept in a pony tail, and she had the type of glasses that almost make me cringe – very small ovals that one has to point one's whole head when looking around in order to look through the glasses, glasses that I associate with girls in middle school who always carried a book around and were teased in elementary school to social pariah status, yet were always nice to everyone, to anyone. And somehow I ended up in her bed that night. \n\nShe had come down for a glass of water. It could have been pure vodka for all I knew, but... I'm fairly certain. Water. And walked through the room that I was in. We were introduced. She went back upstairs. The seed was planted in my mind and somehow, the details are fuzzy, she came back downstairs later and I followed her when she retreated up to her room.\n\nWe talked for hours and both sobered up. And then the eyes happened. They're when I know that it's okay to take the next step – even if I'm rebuffed, it's in good nature. She was cute and shy and, it seemed, didn't believe that I wanted to make love. I took off my shirt, having recently acquired an excellent set of abs for the first time in my life, and kissed her again, and moved her hand to my stomach. She moved it lower, and the dance began. \n\nAll I wanted to do was to please her, to make her happy, to relax her and assure her that the world can be kind, can be great. I like to think that I did. But something strange happened. Through her movements, a shy covering up, and her words, a hilarious comment interrupting a potentially awkward position, I began to feel as if I knew her far and beyond the biblical knowledge I was currently getting. I saw where she would go with her life, her future and past stretched out before me, with happiness within reach, but dissatisfaction her usual meal. I was sad for her, such a true person unable to reconcile the world we traipse around and fail in with the one found in novels, where love and relationships and kids and success are but pages away. \n\nShe is one of the most incredibly beautiful people that I know precisely because I knew her, I understood her, fully and totally, her insecurities and doubts and goodness and slight hopes and vast fears, all for a few moments. And she will never know.\n\nI still think about her.",
"Lines creased a face that would never be young again. Deep crevices wore into the skin, each one another moment of her life. Her first day at a new job, her children's birth, her father's death. Flaps of flesh hung loose at her mouth, wet with the spittle of her speech. Her upper lip was decorated with hair that always appeared with age. Teeth that weren't hers flashed every time she opened her mouth. Her cheeks, under the thin, crepe like skin, were the colour of the broken blood vessels and veins that lay beneath. It had been a long time since she had blushed prettily. Her fine, white hair had thinned out on top and the pale pink of her scalp could be seen, making her appear that little bit more vulnerable.\n\nHer spidery hands were clasped in her husband's, his big, weak hands hiding her brown spots of age. He too had a wrinkled face, each wrinkle a moment he had shared with her. He no longer had the body of his youth and had shrunk as the years went on. His shoulders were hunched over, as though trying to protect himself from age. His stomach had grown soft and plump and a metal plate in his hip helped support his now heavy weight. \n\nTheir eyes, weak and watery, watched the same scene. As the clock struck midnight, their children and their children's children held hands and sang in the new year. They had lived through another year. They had lived through another year with laughter. They had lived through another year with tears. They had lived through another year of their family growing and dreaming and achieving. They looked at each other, remembering all that they had been and seeing all that they were. When they thought that nobody was looking, they lent into each other and, pressing lips against lips as they'd done many times before, shared all the love they had. They did not notice their granddaughter smiling at how beautiful they both were.",
"It was at that apartment on the Hill. My friends always went there because it was close to school and the guys had a skee ball machine. We all loved the parties at that place. So many memories there but the ones I always remember the most involve him. \n\nThe first time I saw him, I instantly hated him. He had long, scrappy dark hair, and wore a Beatles shirt as if that made him cool. In a way, he reminded me of a young Paul McCartney, and he is my least favorite Beatle. He looked like someone I would never get along with. So I avoided him. \n\nAt some point in the night a few of us decided to dance in the cleared out kitchen, the lights were off, only the lights from the living room down the hall illuminated our dance floor. I remember he put on The Prodigy and I recognized \"Smack My Bitch Up\" right away and he was impressed I knew the song. Later we talked about anime, but my friends were leaving for the night. I was their sober companion, since I didn't drink then. He wanted me to stay, but I wasn't comfortable in my own skin then, and I didn't know him well enough.\n\nHe will never know how much I liked him. He will never know that I later wrote a piece about him, the piece was about how sometimes the things we see are more beautiful than they really are. There's a word for it. Kalopsia. It was performed by the band, I got so many beautiful compliments. It is one of my crowning achievements, one of the deepest, most beautiful pieces I have written. It's a reflection of how I knew he wasn't that beautiful, but he was to me somehow and I knew no one else saw him the way I did.\n\nNow I know better.",
"The man smiled at me, or tried to. Instead, a hideous grimace appeared on his tortured face. His back was permanently hunched over, so that even if he tried to lie down, he would sit up. His remaining hand was strong as it shook mine, yet I couldn’t help but stare at the useless stub hanging from his other shoulder. \n\nI ran my hands gently over his body, applying salve to cover the burns. Mustering up my courage, I gazed into his eyes, looking for a hint of anger, regret. When I saw nothing but acceptance and love, I felt tears creep down my face. \n\nI visited him every week and as we walked down the street people would stare at him, gawking. If he met their gaze they’d quickly avert their eyes, ashamed, yet they’d sneak glances as soon as he turned away. I want to scream at them, but I know that in their place I’d probably do the same. \n\nThey didn’t know him like I did. Nobody did. This beautiful beautiful man who had sacrificed everything to save a life. \n"
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