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[WP] A story that switches in tone from light to dark... About a squirrel.
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[
"There once was a squirrel called Jeffery, and he was very sad. He wandered around from place to place till he came along a mouse. \"Hello Mr Squirrel!\" the small mouse cried, as he hung his washing on the line. The squirrel simply sighed and looked at the mouse with a frown. \"Not today small mouse\" grumbled the tired squirrel, \"I don't have time for your bullshit today.\" And so the small mouse went on his merry way. \n\nJeffery the sad squirrel wandered on and came across his nemesis, Manny the angry pheasant. Jeffery put his hands in his pockets and kept his head down. Manny bumped into his shoulder as he walked by. Jeffery decided to shove a knife in his back instead. You have to be the bigger person when others are mean to you boys and girls.\n\n- 028",
"Jane stared up at her tree across the way, chittering irritably to herself. She clutched her nuts tightly in her little paws, quickly glanced behind her to make sure the bird wasn't following her this way, and then scurried across the way. Sometimes there was just too much traffic to make it across safely, but luckily today wasn't one of those days. She scampered over to the base of her tree, looking up at her favoite branch. Today would be the day, yes, today would be the day.\n\nJane knew Henry would be there today. He was always just one or two steps ahead of her somehow, even though she knew all the shortcuts and the places to go to avoid the nasties, like the pipe by the fence that let her sneak past the bulldog, or the wires that she'd race along to get to where she'd found these nuts. With a bounce to her step she made a ring around the tree before clamboring up to her branch, so excited to show Henry the new things she'd found. \n\nAnd there Henry was, right on time. She chattered excitedly at him, but he just gave her a resigned sigh. She tilted her head curiously, then brightened as she held out her nuts to share. This, this surely would cheer him up! Henry shook his head a little from side to side, but he smiled. That smile! Yes-yes, this was it! This was what made Jane so happy! She beamed and chattered loudly, her big black eyes round as saucers as she eyes him so happily. A voice startled her off to the side, and she drew back, clutching her prize tightly. Nonono, this wasn't for anyone but Henry! She growled at the voice. It had to go, it had to go, it must go soon! \n\n\"Well, doc?\"\n\nHenry stared at his clipboard with a sigh, then glanced back over at her. \"I think we'll need to increase the dosage.\"\n\n\"At least she didn't run into anyone in the hallway.\" The orderly folded his arms across his chest. \"Not like when she tried escaping last night. I heard somethin' happened to Jim.\"\n\n\"Jim... ah yes. Well, that old bulldog wasn't really much of a challenge to her. I warned him she was smarter than she let on, but he didn't believe me. Hopefully when he recovers he'll be able to tell us exactly how she managed to get her hands on one of the water pipes.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" The orderly eyes the small glass jar she was clutching. \"Creepy the way she holds that thing, like some kind of animal. I'm surprised you let her keep it. What's in there, anyway?\"\n\nHenry smirked. \"You really don't want to know. It's her last attachment to her former life. I thought a stark reminder of the atrocities she'd committed would help bring her around, but it seems it's only served to further her imaginary world. Come now, Ms. Toppan, hand over the jar.\" He held out his hand, and was almost surprised when she plopped it right in the center of his palm without even a batting an eye. \n\n\"That's really disturbing, doc.\"\n\nHenry leaned over to the woman, her big black eyes round as saucers as she eyed him with what could only be described as hunger. \"Mmmhm. See to it that Ms. Toppan gets triple her medication this evening, would you? Oh, and get someone to fix that lamp - last thing we need is some unintended electric therapy, hm?\"\n\n\"Sure thing, doc.\"\n\nHenry turned, scribbling a few notes on his notepad. The chittering sound from the woman with unkempt hair and wild eyes perched on the table made him pause, but he simply nodded as he walked out.\n\nThe sound of a panicked chatter echoed behind.",
"\"Hello, Rufus!\"\n\nRufus is a good squirrel. He's my friend - I don't care what anyone says. Everyday I eat my sandwiches in the park so we can be together. He's so cute, and nice, and furry, and lovely. I love him. \n\nHe moves towards me like a piece of velvet, weaving, blowing through the air.\n\n\"How you doing, Ruffy?\" I say.\n\nHe sniffs the air, staring at me with his big black eyes. They're so cute.\n\nI pick a bit of bread from the bottom of my sandwich, and place it on the ground next to him. He looks at me, and then at the bread. He grabs it. He turns away, and nibbles the whole chunk down in a few seconds. His teeth was a grinder and the bread was consumed by the hard, jagged jaws.\n\nGood, Rufus.\n\nAnother squirrel approaches. \"Bertrand!\" Bertrand's a little squirrel. He's so curious, and, aww, he wants food. I place a bit of bread on the ground near him. He takes it.\n\nRufus screeches. It was a painful whine, one which came from his belly, and rose through his throat, shaking. \n\n\"Are you okay Rufus?\" I say.\n\nRufus' big black eyes become thin and hard. He jumps. He chases Bertrand, a flash through the air. They roll and they squeal. \n\n\"Bad, Rufus!\"\n\nHe stops. He looks deep into my eyes with his. Jealousy hangs in his heart. He prances around me, jumping rabid. Rufus climbs up the bench next to me.\n\n\"No more for you, bad Rufus.\" He tries to get into my bag. \"No!\"\n\nRufus hisses.\n\nI scream.\n\nI flail. \n\nI hit him.\n\nRufus is slammed into the bench, crushed between my hand and the wood. His skull caves, his eyes spread out further than his head, and blood splatters all around. His little lifeless body is mangled, twisted into some sick new form. The bottom of my hand is covered in blood.\n\nOh, god. No. Rufus. No. What have I done? Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I LOVED YOU, RUFUS! \nI LOVED YOU! WHYYYYYYYYY, GOD, WHYYYYYYYYY?!?! \n\nI sob and shake my blood dripping hands at the sky. \nYou were my only friend. ",
"The sun shone brightly above the sturdy oak trees. Children screamed in delight as they chased one another around the playground. Five feet away from Tony the squirrel, a little girl stood staring curiously at him. As he scrunched his nose and gauged this potential predator, she took a step toward him. He immediately took a step back. She held out her hand and in the middle of her palm was a single round piece of grain. \n\nTony could smell it. Each whiff of air hinted at a treat that would be sweet and flavorful. Enticed, he took one hesitant step forward, and then another, and another until he was only two feet away. \n\n\"Come here,\" she sang in delight. Her voice rang like clear bells, music to Tony's ears. The girl watched him with excited, earnest eyes as he took yet another stride forward. \n\n\"Everything will be alright. I won't hurt you.\"\n\nSuddenly, however, Tony heard an alarming chime. He jumped onto his hind legs to look around when a tall, flat, black object barreled towards him with a human sitting on top. In panic, he skipped backwards, but realized he had thrown himself into the middle of the paved road. He quickly scurried back to the side of the road and waited by a pile of dried leaves for the human to pass. Nevermind the food, Tony would be safe here! \n\nIt wasn't long before he realized in horror that his home was on the other side of the road. He needed to go home immediately! This park was a threat to his life! He looked down the road where the biker was hurtling towards his direction and back at the opening where he lived. Would he make it with the biker moving so quickly? \n\nHe was racing back and forth trying to make a decision when a soccer ball appeared from nowhere and slammed against the pavement beside Tony. It startled him so much, before he could even process what had happened, his legs had already begun to move him across the road!\n\nIt was a mistake.\n\n\"SHIIIIIIIIIIIITT!\" The man shouted and nearby the girl let loose a high pitched scream of horror. Those were the last sounds tiny Tony heard before feeling the crunch of his bones collapsing against the ground like crumpled leaves under a human's heavy feet. One roll, two.\n\nAnd so he laid on the sidewalk dying, with his innards smeared and splayed in a bloody red pulp around him, his body convulsing from the great shock. As his dimming eyes bored into those of the young petrified girl's, his life quickly drained away, and he realized everything would *never* be alright again.",
"Tony was just like all the other squirrels. He loved to play in the grass, chase the butterflies, and lay out on the long branches under the warm setting sun each day in the summer. This was his home. His friends and family were here in this tree. Even that one cute squirrel across the way that he'd see scurrying along the other tree sometimes visited. In fact, today's the day he's going to bring Sally that acorn. Yeah, that delicious looking acorn he found that nobody else has touched. She's going to love it! There are so many of them in that spot, how could no one else have seen them yet? Even the chipmunks hadn't spotted this place yet. He just has to grab it and start his scurry. Carrying this thing is not easy and he's so hungry, maybe just one nibble, just a taste. Oh boy! She's going to love this. Afterwards we can lay out on the long branches at the top of the tree and soak in the sun as it sets. This is going to be perfect! So delectable, the texture is just perfect. Hmm, this acorn has a sour taste to it though, that's odd. Wait a minute, why wasn't anybody in that spot with the acorns? Time to go back to that spot, that's odd, it must just be near some tree sap or mud. Is that the shed close by? Maybe it's something from there, there's a hole in the wood right near the acorns, why not check? What's this thing that's leaking, the smell is harsh and hurts the nose. Wait, is that - no. No it can't be. Is that the thing that's been killing the rats? Eyes are burning, throat is dry. It can't be, it has to be a mistake. Stomach is in pain. Must head back to the tree. Things are starting to look miss-shaped. He has to get back. He can see Sally waiting on that branch in the warm sun, the glow of the rays illuminating her beautiful fur. He has to tell her how he feels, he's waited so long and never had the courage. Stumbling over sticks and pebbles, can't quite dig into the tree bark to climb. Suddenly he can't feel his rear legs anymore, his breathing is so heavy. Fading in and out he can hear her laughing. He can see them together on that branch again. His body is feeling warmer and warmer, the soft glow filling his eyes. Everything is so calm, he'd holding her tightly, the sun so warm over them as they lay in it's brightness.",
"Sharp yellow rays warmed the grass-blades, which bristled slowly with the breeze. The black-pearl eyes scanned the lively green scene, looking for potential meals that had fallen from branches that reached outward. Spotting a large, unfamiliar mass, the curious brown critter scampered down the coarse tree trunk to the grass and cautiously ventured forward. \n\nSwimming through waves of wind, the squirrel remained adamant in it's search for snacks. The creature's bushy tail twitched and fell flat against the ground. In an instant the squirrel bounded forth, leaping atop of the strange object it spotted from above. Sniffing about, the critter noticed a prize; a nut had fallen from the tree onto the unfamiliar object. Happily, the squirrel collected its reward, and chewed away at the crumbly nut. Small pieces landed on the damp cotton cloth that separated the squirrel from its supporting surface; the brown and beige flecks turing red from saturation. As quickly as it came, the creature fled back to safety, leaving the decaying mass to the flies that had just begun to penetrate it. ",
"Terry was Joe's Hobbes: light hearted, adventurous, insightful, playful and, of course, a soft adorable animal. The difference was though, Terry was real. Terry was a local squirrel that he had met a day ago on the way home from school, passing through the small nature reserve opposite his house. Walking down the well worn dirt path, Terry locked eyes with his soon to be best friend. Neither twitched a muscle -- Joe's young blue eyes locked with Terry's large round brown eyes. Something passed between them. \n\nTerry was old, lonely and wanted company: Joe realised this. Old grey streaked through his tail and the nimbleness that squirrels are known for had left him months ago. There were no longer any other squirrel friends in the area, their homes destroyed to make way for urban sprawl. He found happiness from Joe, a sense of peace with the world.\n\nFrom that moment onwards, Terry wouldn't leave his side. It was a match made in heaven: they both liked to climb large knobbly trees, scurry around amongst the autumn leaves making growling animal noises as they went, and collect funny little objects they found on the ground.\n\nWhenever Joe got cold, he would like to warm his hands up by stroking Terry's exposed innards. They had a tendency to fall out of the small incision that Joe had made on Terry's underbelly earlier that afternoon, with a sharpened tree branch they had both found. He didn't want him dying and going completely cold, so he only let the life seep out slowly.\n\nThe sun was setting on the day after they met, Joe was holding Terry in his arms like a baby, rocking him back and forth. The warmth wasn't going to last much longer. \n\nThe rusted nails protruding from Terry's tiny paws would occasionally scratch up at the sky he could no longer see, searching for a place he knew was once safe, a place where there was no Joe, a place in the tree.\n\n-----\n\n*As always, feedback appreciated. Maybe something like \"What the fuck is wrong with you?\"*"
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It could be cultural, it could be technological. Have fun!
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[WP] The world as it is today, but one thing hasn't changed since the middle ages.
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"Alan stood up and lightly smacked Chris on the back of the head.\n\n\n“Let’s go, it’s getting pretty late.”\n\n\n“Hang on,” Chris said, “it’s almost over.” He was staring straight at the TV as the *Housewives* screamed at one another. “I think she’s going to do it this time.” The room flickered pastel colors each time the image changed.\n\n\n“Dude, come on. They are never going to shoot each other. They don’t even have guns.” \n\n\n“They said they did online. I swear to god. I saw it online, they said someone murders someone this season.”\n\n\n“I’m pretty sure you just got tricked into watching an entire series of this shit.”\n\n\n“No way, nope. Not a chance. Someone definitely gets shot. I didn’t watch an entire season for no reason.” Chris continued staring straight that the screen. He was bent forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. Alan walked back around the couch and sat down next to Alan with a dejected thump. \n\n\n“Seriously, dude, this is stupid. They’re going to close before we get there.”\n\n\n“Three minutes. It’s going to happen.”\n\n\n“It’s not going to happen.” Alan sighed and stared at the screen. Three women were shouting at each other in some sort of fake Italian accent. Alan couldn’t quite figure out why. Something about one of them calling another one a bitch, which, for some reason, made it okay for all of them to call each other way worse things. The blonde woman was screaming about how the redhead was a whore, while the redhead shouted that the brunette was a slut. The brunette was in some form of a Mexican standoff in which she was calling both the redhead and the blonde slut-whores.\n\n\n“I don’t see how this shit is so popular,” Alan said. The women continued shouting. “Can we just—” Alan paused as he noticed the blonde woman quickly reach into her purse and pull out a small silver pistol. She raised it at the redhead and fired. The screen immediately cut to black, shrouding the room in darkness. The executive producer’s name flashed across the screen. Alan and Chris sat motionless as music began to play over the credits.\n\n\n“That was it?” Chris said. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just watched like twenty hours of this shit and they don’t even show her go down?”\n\n\n“I can’t believe you were right,” Alan said, standing up. “They really did shoot someone on that stupid show.”\n\n\n“Whatever, let’s go. Do you have your car keys?”\n\n\n“Yeah,” Alan said, reaching into his pocket and jingling his keys. “I wonder if she died.”\n\n\nChris turned and walked toward the front door, grabbing his jacket off the couch as he passed. Alan followed closely behind, then flicked the light on as they got to the door. They both bent down, grabbed their shoes, and slipped them on.\n\n\n“Is it still raining?” Alan asked. Chris walked over to the window and peaked outside. \n\n\n“No, looks like it stopped.” \n\n\n“Great, maybe we can add the spoiler today then.” \n\n\nAlan walked to the front door, pulled it open, and stepped outside. It was brisk; the leaves were beginning to change color, but hadn’t yet started to fall off the trees. He walked over to his car and bent down. He had recently installed a new muffler on it. It seemed to be remaining study, despite it initially giving him some difficulty when attaching. He had to use more rivets than he wanted to, which ruined the aesthetics slightly; however, the furious sound the car produced as it galloped down the street made it all worth it. \n\n\nAlan had been into car modification for as long as he could remember. His dad bought him his first car when he was just thirteen years old. While he couldn’t yet drive it, he spent almost every night working on it out in the field. He’d added rims, a supercharger, new paint, air fresheners, hydraulics, everything and anything he could afford. His dad said it was almost inhumane how much he modified his car, but it was his passion.\n\n\n“It looks pretty good, honestly,” Chris said. “You can barely see the extra rivets.”\n\n\n“Yeah,” Alan said. He pat the car on the roof. “I think I might get another paint job. Maybe a matte black.”\n\n\n“That’d look sick – but are you sure the car can hold up after that? This is like the sixth paint job this year. That can't be good.”\n\n\n“I think it will be fine. I use non-toxic. Plus, imagine how amazing this will look with the spoiler and that finish.”\n\n\n“Speaking of,” Chris said, “we better get to the auto shop before it closes. I don’t want the vet to leave.”\n\n\n“Yeah, do you have your saddle?”\n\n\n“I do,” Chris said, pointing to the saddle laying by the shed. It was black with thin blue and red flames drawn down the side. He walked over to it, picked it up, and tossed it on top of the car just behind Alan’s saddle. The car neighed and shifted under its weight.\n\n\n“Whoa,” Alan said, patting the car. The car settled down, its tail coming to a rest as it resumed grazing on the driveway. Alan pointed to the back of the car, “I’m going to put the spoiler right here. Should give the most down-force and really help with the aerodynamics.”\n\n\nChris climbed onto the top of the car and settled into his saddle. He picked up the armored helmet hanging off the car’s side and placed it over his head, opening the visor for visibility. Alan stepped back and took one last look at the car, stopping to admire the custom headlights he had recently wired. The car had initially given him some resistance, but the lights worked superbly well in the end. Alan bent down, grabbed his armored chest piece, and tossed it over his head. He then threw on his helmet, closed the visor, and picked up his lance before climbing into the driver’s seat. \n\n\n“All set?” Alan asked, turning to Chris.\n\n\n“Yep.\"\n\n\"You're not gonna wear the chest armor, even after that guy almost lanced you in the stomach when we were sitting in traffic?\" Alan asked.\n\n\"Nah, we aren't going that far away,\" Chris replied. \n\nAlan grabbed the reigns, adjusted his side mirror, and dug his spurs into the side of the car. A soft neigh was overcome by a deep, mechanical bellow from the new muffler as they began galloping down the driveway, chrome rims spinning independently on the car’s hooves. \n",
"Eh, it's not much, but I haven't done anything in a long time and I'm still rusty around the edges. Sorry it's kinda short, part of me gave in halfway through.\n\n*\"Hear ye, hear ye!\"* The bearded suit-clad fellow yelled from the television, his ruff well presented much akin to a royal in public, the feather in his tailored tricorne bouncing softly with every movement of his head. *\"As of the fourteenth hour of the Lord's glorious day, Chief Lord of America, Barrack Obama has announced...\"* . Michael sighed as he slumped back into his couch, just staring at the tv. He wasn't really a big fan of the news, but he had an eventful day, and felt the urge just to waste it.\n\nA few minutes into his apathetic state, the phone rang, literally. The sound of a bell echoed through the room, followed by a deep voice *\"O' yes, o' yes\"* it cried valiantly, *\"Thou hath recieved a new letter!\"*. Michael yawned, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, he had recieved a text from his old friend, Jake, who just wanted to generally know what was happening. After sending off a few texts, he slumped back down on the leather couch, the crier on the big screen still shouting mercilessly about the current, trivial events of the world.",
"Joe took the stairs down from his apartment two at a time. He didn't typically run so late, but a mini blackout had reset his alarm over the night and he'd woken to a flashing **12:00** that almost seemed to taunt him. Outside, he waited for the crosswalk signal to change and grew more impatient with each tick of his watch. In general, he tried to be frugal, but he knew if he was late for this meeting there was no way he'd be getting that promotion. And if he wanted to put the down payment on that bigger place, he definitely needed the promotion. So he hailed a taxi rather than waiting for who-knows-how-long across the twelve blocks to the office. \n\nIn the cab, he scrolled through the internet, looking at pictures and trying to take his mind off his frayed nerves. *It's gonna be fine,* he told himself. *I'm gonna do great.* The car pulled off to the curb, and Joe made sure to give the driver a little more than the fare called for--being frugal doesn't have to mean being miserly, too. He walked into the lobby of his building and up to the security desk. The guard studied Joe even though they knew each other well, as he was required by procedure, and compared his face to what was on record. Under Joe's photo were the numbers 0 9 4 5. The guard checked his watch. \n\n\"Cutting it a little close, aren't we?\" He grinned at Joe.\n\n\"Hopefully not too close!\" Joe tried to smile back through the stress, but he made it look as difficult as it felt. \n\n\"Well, good luck! Let me know how it goes.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Frank. You know I will. Take it easy,\" Joe replied before pressing the button for the elevator. During the trip up to the sixteenth floor, Joe practiced the breathing exercises he'd studied in preparation for today. It helped calm him down, and he felt ready. As he approached the office, he willed away the sweat on his palms and did his best to look confident - shoulders back, chest out, arms relaxed - and knocked.\n\n\"Come in,\" came a voice from behind the door.\n\n\"Hi, Mr. Prescot. I'm here for the interview.\" Joe stepped into the room, waiting to see if he'd be invited to sit. He immediately noticed the elaborate quill and ink well on Prescot's desk. This was definitely a man to impress. \n\n\"Of course, Mr. Tran. Have a seat. You're here about the position that Sporelli is leaving, correct?\" Prescot spoke matter-of-factly, but gently. He wasn't as intimidating as Joe had imagined.\n\n\"Yes, sir. And I do believe I'm prepared. I've been studying for just about six months now.\" \n\n\"That's good news, Mr. Tran. Now it's time to see if that studying has payed off.\" Prescot proceeded to pull a swatch of paper from his desk. With care, he inked the quill and marked the page. Joe was actually seeing someone write--it was a magnificent sight. \"All right, Mr. Tran. Here's the first part of your examination: the easy part.\" Prescot handed the paper across the desk to Joe. There were more markings than he'd guessed, but now wasn't the time to falter. \n\n\"Now, Mr. Tran, I'd like you to read that back to me.\""
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I thought this would be interesting.
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[WP] Hitler's last thoughts and experiences as he prepares to end his life.
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"Ich dachte, dass dieses Volk stark genug wäre um den Sieg zu erringen, doch schlussendlich hat es versagt. Oder habe ich versagt? Vieleicht war es nicht die Schuld der Juden. Vieleicht habe ich ein Volk ermordet nur um meinen Größenwahn zu befriedigen... Nein, das kann nicht sein. Die Juden müssen einen Weg gefunden haben uns auch noch nach ihrer eingrenzung zu schaden. Doch all das ist jetzt nicht mehr wichtig. Das einzige, was jetzt zählt ist die Kugel in dem Revolver und der einzige Weg der Schande der Niederlage zu entgehen. Mögen meine Feinde an ihrem Sieg ersticken und alle Deutschen, die den Sieg halbherzig verfolgt haben obendrein...\n\nThen the silence is disrupted by a single shot and as the echo fades a body slips from the seat. A sad man he was to spend his last thoughts with hatred and shame.",
"First time posting here and I'm a new writer, so bear with me!\n\nBlondi was curled by the couch. Eva was seated on it, stroking Blondi's brown fur. Blondi whimpered, although she was in no pain. Eva stared at Adolf with eyes of worry. She knew what was about to happen. She had prepared her whole life for it. It seem as though she had died a million times for Adolf, and for Germany. Realizing that this was the end, she started quietly sobbing. It was only one day ago Adolf married her. The two hadn't been more happier, especially considering the circumstances. It wasn't going to be long before the Soviets would bust down the door and capture Adolf and Eva. Adolf walked towards Blondi, inserted the tablet into her jaws, and cracked it open. Blondi whimpered again before going silent. A single tear fell from Adolf's eye onto the carpet next to the dog. He handed Eva a tablet and a pistol. She looked at them, then back at Adolf. He didn't say a word and he didn't need to. \n\nAdolf sat next to Eva as she raised the gun to her head. She smiled as tears ran down her face. She pulled the trigger, completely ignoring the tablet her husband gave her. The sound startled Adolf. He quickly raised his pistol, closed his eyes shut, and pulled the trigger. The bunker remained silent. Even the ambient humming in the walls seemed to observe the silence. The heavy iron door slowly swung open. \n\n\"Der Führer ist tot.\"\n\n"
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[WP] You are starring out of your 11th story apartment window on a dark rainy night, looking at all of the city lights. How deep can you go?
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[
"Her eyes are impervious to the intrusion of photons as they cross paths with the image of the city below. The few bands of light that intersect those reflected from the surfaces of the people and cars that make up the cells inside the concrete membrane of the venous boulevard, have no effect on the finality of the view.\n\tCorrinna wonders about the consequences of the delay present between what she sees and what exists. A tenth of a second earlier, a small black Mercedes causes a man to renegotiate his deal with his god, when its side view mirror rips his cell phone from his hands. Obliterated, the injury is intensified when the shattered plastic is tossed in the air, having been redistributed by the car's tires.\n\tWhen the light hits Corrinnas eyes, and one-tenth of second later, and is comprehended by her consciousness, she breathes in quickly through her pouted lips. Audibly stunned, she is also relieved to see the man hasn't been coincidedly destroyed. Could she have done anything? She ponders alone encompassed in the stagnant cold of the glass, in front of which she stands. Even if she had been standing beside him, her own reaction wouldn't even occur until well after the car had passed. In the wake of the incident, all she could do was provide calm, and leave him with consolations to the affect of “for what it's worth, at least you're not hurt.” \n\tIn two-tenths of a second, the event had already proven to be historic. Archived, as it happened, in her passive memory. Where it's told to remain, and haunt her ideas of control. In a sense, she winces at a memory. In a time-line perceived as real, but doubted nonetheless, for it's disregard of human nature. There's nothing she can do. She imagines a time machine. She materializes just behind the careless man. The fade of the transfer wears off in a pulses of static at the edges of her vision. It reminds her of standing up too quickly after her nightly binge of mystery serials, but without the weak knees.\n\tDays of rehearsed strategy culminated in this one chance to prevent a minor inconvenience from upsetting the existential nature of one inconsequential existence. The pulsing is gone, and the event queues her muscle memory with a quick right open handed jab for the hood of the man's wooly parka. But something is wrong. She can feel differences in the wind that brushes across her cheek, that she knew was not present in the simulations. The amplitude of the sound waves hitting her ear, created by the oblivious car approaching in her peripheral, are not consistent with the dopplered ones she was familiar with in practice. For a nano-second, she attributed the oversights to unknowns that she felt would be irrelevant to the outcome of the mission. Minutia in a sea of error, that itself was accounted for, and calculated to be acceptable. But the matter of self doubt proved to be ever-present, and panic gripped her stomach as her arm stretched, with what felt like an infinity towards the target. She could feel the tingling of loosened cotton strands against the tips of her fingers and wondered if she instead was feeling a static electric charge arcing out to meet her; an embodiment of a positive action mating with a negative solution. She felt it was poetic. \n\tThe phone explodes. Splintering a rain of plastic to the street and sidewalk. A portion of it laid to rest in a storm drain. Corrinna's mouth, agape in surprise and her arm left grasping, the man turrets his body in the direction of the car and screams out to it. The man grunts frustratedly, and punctuates it by drooping his head to meet his index finger and thumb, eager to massage his eyeballs. He sees a scuffed pair of combat boots, and follows the legs up past the torso, to meet Corrinna's distant gaze, fixed in what he assumes is an astonishment similar to his. He sees her outstretched arm, and manages a defeated gratuity. “No...problem,” she drawls in response. “Ha,” he torts, “two-tenths of a second earlier, and I'd probably still have a phone.” \n\tCorrinna rages behind her eyes in realization that by the time she processed his parka underneath her fingertips, it had already happened. “But I was so close,” she said to herself in aside. “Don't worry about it lady. There's nothing you coulda done about it.”\n\tShe can see her breath fogging on the window, and is angered by the refracted light, cursing it for her failed daydream objective. Synapses fire, and thoughts convene in the pattern of questions she asks herself about the city, coursing like red blood cells, just outside her line of sight.\n\t\n\t\n\t",
"Bing. A message. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing.\n\nA few more messages.\n\nBing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing. Bing.\n\nI hate my life.\n\nThat night I stared down my computer, looking at the endless faces that shot me questions. In particular, the ones where my help was needed. It was the kind that-\n\nBing.\n\nHold on...\n\nIt was the kind that made me powerful but feel powerless. I had no control over what these people needed and I never felt I had more of a choice than to help them.\n\nI stare out the window and get the sickening sense of deja vu. It's like I'm dreaming, living a life that makes no sense. In fact, it feels like I did all of this just an hour ago. Or a day ago. Or a decade ago. It's no surprise I feel like I'm on a hamster wheel. Staring at the same lights, the same clouds, the same drops.\n\nDrifting to sleep changed nothing.\n\nI stare out the window and get a sickening sense of deja vu. This time, however, I know I'm dreaming so I walk out of my life. I leave and do whatever I want. I return to my apartment and see the same old lights, the same old clouds and the same old drops. This time, I wring out the lights and their drops fall towards the sky.\n\nAll I can see are the stars. Endlessly, they light up the city like I've never seen before. Yes, I think to myself, this is truly the good life.\n\nBing. Bing. Bing.\n\nAgain, here we go again. I hate my life. I sit down and answer. I get angry. I throw my computer out the window. Yet now, it stands there, looking back. Oh wait, I'm still dreaming. And sure enough...\n\nI wake up. I see messages. I hate my life. I hate my boring life with nothing to do. So I do something. I get up and have fun. I see the clouds and in my mind, they dissipate within my gaze. But every time I look out the window, I see the same drops, the same clouds, the same...no wait, that isn't the right order.\n\nBut I guess that night wasn't the same to every other night. I did dream again but this time, I sat still where I was and looked out the window.\n\nThe city was murky with rain, blurred with light and shaded by clouds. Light darkened the shadows and the clouds lightened all. I could see every nuance of the clouds and could see nothing of the stars which hummed behind.\n\nEvery night was like this. Every night was the same.\n\nEvery night I dream the same dream. I dream the same epiphany. I dream the same hope that the clouds can be whisked away. But one day, I know I'll wake up and brush away the clouds and [see the stars without the lightest cloud in my way.](http://images.exhibit-e.com/www_danzigerprojects_com/New_York_20.jpg).",
"It is night time and the city looks beautiful for all the way up here, So much life going on below. So many people I will never meet, each living a unique life under a unique set of circumstances. How beautiful. I often spend the last hours of my day staring out this window, glass of whiskey in hand. It make you see how insignificant human life really is. How trivial all our individual problems are. How chaotic and fragile life is. Over the years I've seen may things from this exact stop from acts of violence to acts of loves. I've seen people beaten to a pulp and left there to bleed and I've seen people propose to the person they want to spend the rest of their life with. I've seen couples break up and couples make up. I've seen the darkest, most morbid side of humanity and I've seen the beauty and love humanity is capable of all from this exact stop I am standing at now, staring out of my window. But today is different, I am looking but I do not see anything, I'm watching but I do not notice any of what is going on below me. everything is fuzzy like a television that has not been properly tuned, the picture is indecipherable. Tonight is the night I am finally going to end it. No need to leave a note as there's no one left to read it. I take one last gulp of my whiskey, place the glass on the table adjacent to me, open the window and jump... It is over. Tonight I will just be one more story for people to watch, to talk about and eventually forget. "
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Dark, time, memory, distort, and melting.
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[FF][CW] One sentence using: Dark, Time, Memory, Distort, Melting.
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[
"It was getting dark and I only had an hour or so to find shelter, but the winter snows were finally melting out on the prairie and I felt the need to hold on to Jenny's memory burn as fiercely as ever, making me lament the cloying hand of time that was seemingly taking such pains to distort the delicate mote of love for her that still rested warm in my heart and upon which I had clung to through all these cold nights.\n\nEDIT: Tense and grammar.",
"\"I recall melting dark chocolate when I made cake batter with my mother as a child, but we all know that memory can distort with time.\"\n\nJason sighed and sank lower into the couch, \"I recall melting dark chocolate when I made cake batter with my mother as a child but we all know that memory can distort with time.\" He shrugged, \"Lately I find myself wondering if those memories are simply wishful thinking, the constructed memory of a bruised psyche. I ask myself, does the woman I see in my memories match with the woman who did this?\"",
"\"Time melts memory, old friend, and when its melting it can distort your reality in ways that make you question everything, but I haven't forgotten you; not the one friend who came to save me from the dark.\"\n\nApologies for punctuation; I have a poor understanding of the use of semicolons."
] | 3
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[WP] Living off the grid for 15 years, and having no contact with the outside world, a hermit runs into another hermit, who has had no contact with the outside world, and has been living off the grid for 15 years.
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[
"I stared at the ceiling and awoke another day with a sigh. I had dreamed of my childhood again. I was at the beach with my brother, Tommy, swimming and building sandcastles while the strong summer sun burned my skin. In my dreams, the outside world always appeared as a beautiful, hopeful place, but I know better than to trust them. As I grew older, It wasn't hard to discover the human race is a hateful, unfortunate breed that takes advantage of our earth. The best day of the life was the day I stopped contact with the outside world. \nI threw my covers off of me and stretched for a few minutes. One thing I did miss about the outside world was running. I had been pretty good at track in high school before I quit the team. I had never been good with people or sportsmanship, and having to interact with people on a team everyday was too much for me to handle. I *wanted* to be able to continue running, but my teammates ruined it for me. People have ruined *everything* for me. \nI walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. It was foggy and old, *really* old. I filled it with tap water and finished the entire glass in one sip then filled it again. I looked at the calendar on my fridge from 1999. It was withered, and ripped, and written on. I've scribbled out dates for fifteen years and changed it to match the current dates. No shit, I've officially had no contact with the outside world for fifteen years today. God, it seems like it was just yesterday that I got my parents inheritance, left my job, and bought this house. Wyoming seemed like a nice place to be. Low population, pretty scenes , and best of all I know nobody here. \nI walked down to the basement to get some breakfast. Lima beans or lentils? *Sigh* \nI heard a noise come from above me. What the fuck was that? I could of sworn I had heard something upstairs but that was impossible. I put both the cans back on the shelf and slowly walked towards the staircase. As I approached the bottom and looked up, I made eye contact with a man. He had a scruffy hair, a long beard, and was wearing dirty clothes and old boots. \n\"..hello..\" He said to me. \nI froze for a moment and then darted into the basement. I ran behind a shelf and tried not to breathe loudly, which was hard considering how fast my heart was beating. \nThis is it. This is how I die. He will murder me right now and no one will know because no one even knows I exist. \n\"Excuse me? I know you're down here. I'm so sorry I figured nobody lived here, it looked abandoned from the outside.\" He sounded close. I could barely feel my legs and felt as if I was about to vomit at the next second.\n\"You're probably scared that a man is in your house right now. I was just looking for some food. I see you have a lot down here, do you mind if I take a little?\" \n\"Just.. Just take it all. Please leave me alone and get out of my house.\" My voice sounded shaky and terrified. \n\"Hi.\" The man said, peeking his head around the shelf while smiling. I screamed as loud as I possibly could and fell to the floor. \nI woke up, laying on my couch. That was the worst dream yet. I would rather dream of my old life than ever experience that dream again. \n\"Oh, you're awake!\" The man from my \"dream\" stood in the doorway. \nI screamed again and he started walking towards me. \n\"Please I'm begging you get out of my house, leave me alone, just go.\" I was holding back tears and urine. \n\"Jeez, lady. I'm not going to hurt you, don't you think I would of done that by now when you were passed out. You're acting like you've seen a ghost.\" \nI realized he was probably telling the truth. I stared at him for a while. This was the first contact I've had with a human in fifteen years. I almost forgot what a man had looked like. He was very tall, but very skinny, almost fragile looking. His eyes looked kind, and warm, and his smile genuine. He was sort of beautiful. \n\"There's no one that lives around here for miles and miles. I never expected to find another person living near me.\" He said to me. \n\"I didn't know there was another house close by. Did you build it recently?\" I said my words slowly and hesitantly, this has been the first conversation I've had out loud in a long time. \n \n\"I live in a trailer about 10 miles from where, I've been their for over a decade but have been having to leave more and more recently to try and find food. That's when I found your house.\" \n\"Over a decade? Have you-\"\n\"Been to civilization? I, I haven't. I know what you're thinking. This man is crazy. I just really needed to get away and I guess I just never returned. I never expected to be away this long, but now I don't think I'll ever go back. What about you lady, is this you're vacation home or something?\" \nI stared at him in disbelief. A moment went by , then another, and another. He gave me a funny look. \"You okay lady?\" He asked me. \n\"You're.. You're telling me you haven't talked to *anybody* for over a decade?\" \n\"No. It's gonna be fifteen years in a month. Crazy how fast it went.\" \n\"Me too.\" I said to him \n\"What?\" He asked puzzled. \n\"I've been in this house for fifteen years. I haven't spoken to, seen, or heard another human in fifteen years. You're the first.\" \nHe stared at me wide-eyed. We both sat in silence for what seemed like an hour. \n\"I don't know if I can believe you.\" He said. \n I walked to the kitchen, grabbed the calendar off my fridge, and handed it to him. \nHe flipped through the pages, his mouth agape. He rubbed his fingers over my words and finally looked up at me. \n\"Happy anniversary.\" He said with a smile.\n\n\n\n",
"Slowly, with a beast's certainty of motion, the hunter peered out from behind the large oak tree. He was looking for anything to bring back to his shack. It was cold now, and windy. The light was already fading from this day. Winter would be there soon. The hunter darted from tree to tree, the picture of animal ferocity, a creature on the prowl. His eyes were clear, his ears sharp. Fingers felt the pulse of the earth. Tongue tasted her wind. Nose... He smelled a trace. A foreign scent in the woods. Close. \n\nMoving silently on his toes, he was among the trees as a shadow in twilight. A light danced ahead of him, and smoke occasionally burned his lungs. In a clearing, he saw a man sitting on a large backpack, facing a small fire and a roasting squirrel. Salivating, the hunter moved closer, momentarily unaware of his surroundings. He dragged his foot through a pile of leaves. The man turned around, and in an instant had a knife in his hand. The steel glimmered in the firelight in a way that the hunter hadn't seen in years. Like mirrors.\n\nBoth men were frozen. Blinded to the oncoming night by the light of the fire, the man could not distinguish the shapes in the forest for trees or danger. After some time, he sat down again on his backpack and warily turned to his meal. \n\nThe hunter crept from the safety of the trees, careful to make no noise. He moved towards the man, and his meal. Instinct moved his hands forward, deliberate in purpose, until the moment his struck. His arms closed around the man's neck, choking him. He pulled the man backwards, preventing him from reaching back. The man struggled, but the life slowly drained away from him, until he remained still in the hunter's arms. \n\nIn the man's backpack there was a water bottle and some warmer clothes, and a newspaper from fifteen years ago. On the front page, there was a photo of a man that the hunter recognized. The words were familiar too: \"Mentally unstable man kills family; flees.\" The hunter emptied the backpack entirely. The squirrel had fallen into the fire during the struggle, but that was not why the hunter was here. He picked up the knife. He would need meat to survive this winter.\n\n****\n\nTotal disclosure, I'm basically ripping off the plot of the music video for How Long? (www.youtube.com/watch?v=1sUTVT7HzSg) by How to Destroy Angels.",
"H1: \"Oh, hey...\"\n\nH2: \"Hey yourself.\"\n\nH1: \"So...how you doing?\"\n\nH2: \"Decent. You?\"\n\nH1: \"Oh, you know, can't complain.\"\n\nH2: \"Cool, cool...don't suppose you have any chocolate on you? Do you?\"\n\nH1: \"Afraid not.\"\n\nH2: \"Too bad...I miss chocolate.\"\n\nH1: \"Yeah...me too.\"\n\nH2: \"How long you been out here?\"\n\nH1: \"Don't know, a while I guess. You?\"\n\nH2: \"I'd say a decade or so, it's so hard to tell.\"\n\nH1: \"Tell me about it. One day you're out and about, doing your thing, next thing you know the stock market crashes and you run into the woods to avoid your debtors.\"\n\nH2: \"Funny, I think I came here because of money. It's so hard to tell.\"\n\nH1: \"You already said that. Are you crazy or something?\"\n\nH2: \"Maybe a little. How do you tell if you're crazy?\"\n\nH1: \"Fair point. Do you talk to yourself a lot?\"\n\nH2: \"No more than any other single child. I am a single child right?\"\n\nH1: \"Wouldn't know. Do you hear voices in your head?\"\n\nH2: \"Just my own.\"\n\nH1: \"That's good.\"\n\nH2: \"Didn't Einstein say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results?\"\n\nH1: \"Something to that effect, I s'pose. Do you do the same thing expecting different results?\"\n\nH2: \"Sometimes when I go to sleep I hope I'll wake up in a bed. Does that count?\"\n\nH1: \"I don't think so. Unless I'm crazy too.\"\n\nH2: \"Who says you aren't?\"\n\nH1: \"Well that's rather rude.\"\n\nH2: \"Point stands.\"\n\nH1: \"If I was crazy, why would I ask if you were crazy?\"\n\nH2: \"Maybe you're the lonely type of crazy.\"\n\nH1: \"Nonsense. If I was lonely I would have gone home ages ago.\"\n\nH2: \"Why haven't you?\"\n\nH1: \"Why haven't I what?\"\n\nH2: \"Gone home.\"\n\nH1: \"Rather personal question considering we've just met. Why haven't you gone home?\"\n\nH2: \"I forgot where it is.\"\n\nH1: \"Oh...\"\n\n(uncomfortable silence ensues)\n\nH1: \"Well...I s'pose I should be on my way, then.\"\n\nH2: \"Oh. Okay then.\"\n\nH1: \"Pleasure to make your acquaintance.\"\n\nH2: \"You as well.\"\n\nH1: \"Um...if you ever need someone to talk to, I tend to hang around the northern end of the lake.\"\n\nH2: \"What do you know, so do I.\"\n\nH1: \"How odd I've never seen you before, Mr...\"\n\nH2: \"Clemens. John Clemens.\"\n\nH1: \"Impossible.\"\n\nH2: \"Huh?\"\n\nH1: \"My name is John Clemens.\"\n\nH2: \"Well then...I s'pose that explains a lot.\"",
"Joey ran his hand through his beard, feeling the scraggly hairs against his callused hand. He peeled off his skullcap hat and stared at the other man.\n\nThe man looked down as he sat in front of Joey's fire, his face darkened by the shadows.\n\n\"Quiet type aren't you,\" Joey added as he put a spoonful of baked beans into his mouth. \"Sure, sit here. Free country and all. I'm a red blooded American. National parks are for everyone.\"\n\nThe man said, \"Thanks, friend. How is your night going?\"\n\n\"Same as the last 15 years. Hustling to live the good life. No boss, no bullshit. Just me and nature and the occasional backpacker like you.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm not a backpacker. I've also been away 15 years.\"\n\nJoey scratched his head and picked at his scalp. \"Watch out, I'm pretty sure I have bed bugs.\" The man chuckled. \"Anyway, what brings you to the Alaskan wild? I've kinda claimed this little clearing. Don't like neighbors. Plenty of room for the both of us, though.\" \n\n\"Just came to visit an old friend,\" the man said as he warmed his hands in front of the fire.\n\n\"Oh, you're going to hate it here. The storm last night nearly killed me. This place is rough. Hope your friend warned you. Alaska is a tough place.\"\n\nThe man smiled in the darkness, \"He's not expecting me.\"\n\nJoey laughed, \"I like the cut of your jib mister. What's your name?\"\n\nThe man stood up, \"Joseph. Name's Joseph.\"\n\nJoey dropped his can of beans and gasped. \n\nHe looked down and wiped a tear from his face, \"I... I... didn't make it last night did I?\"\n\n\"No, we didn't friend. I came here to take you home. Will you come,\" the man with Joey's face asked.\n\nHe looked back at the wild land for a moment. \"I guess that's my body there,\" he said pointing to a mound of snow with two boots sticking out of it. \"Guess, I'm not the outdoors man I thought I was.\"\n\nThe man smiled at him. \"You were very talented in life.\"\n\nJoey furrowed his brow, \"What's it like... there? I was happy here. No people, lots of animals, peace and quiet. I don't want to go back to the madness of the world. It was too much. Too much.\"\n\nThe man offered Joey his hand. \"I think you'll like it. The only people there are the ones who love you.\"\n\nTears continued down Joey's face as he grabbed the man's hand. \"Okay, friend. I'm ready. Take me home.\" \n\n\"Walk with me,\" said the man as they began to trudge through the thick snow. \"They are waiting for us. You are loved. You've always been loved.\"\n\n\"But I've been away for so long.\"\n\n\"None of that matters, come now,\" said the man as they approached a bright light.",
"The morning sun cut through the receding fog in the woods. As the day warmed, Alan found himself sitting next to the stream he camped by. The water was cool and clear, and he could see fish darting around under the surface. He set out a line and walked back up the hill to his small, earthen home. It had started as a hole in the ground with branches for a roof, but has since become a refined, warm home to him.\n\nAs he crested the hill, he saw something he'd never expected to see. A woman, a few years younger than him, by his guess. He stared at her, and she made eye contact. She stood still, as if to camouflage herself from a predator. Alan slowly approached his camp, and rolled a new log onto his fire with his foot. He looked down, and for the first time in years noticed what he was wearing. A pair of worn service boots was covered by military issue camouflaged pants. He wore no shirt, his skin bronzed by years of sun exposure. In his home was a heavy jacket, hat, and a pair of gloves.\n\nHe looked the girl over. She wore relatively new hiking boots, a tattered wind breaker, and black nylon pants. She had a backpack on that Alan thought looked rather empty.\n\nAs they looked at each other, he realized not a single word had been said. He hadn't spoken to anyone in over a decade. He couldn't think about how to form the sounds for words that he could say in his head. He fumbled with a couple sounds before giving up. Her expression softened and she let out a muffled, \"Hi.\" Her voice was soft on Alan's ears, he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard a female voice, let alone any voice.\n\nHe sat down next to his fire, and set a container with water from the stream on it to boil. She took a step closer, Alan nodded and she sat down. They sat quietly in front of the fire for most of the day. The occasional word would be spoken, but for the most part they enjoyed each other's silent company.\n\nWhen the sun began to set, he walked down the hill to the stream. Luck was with him today, there was a large trout hooked on. He took the fish off the line and carried it back to his camp. He filleted the fish, and set it on a hot stone to cook. That night, they both ate like royalty.\n\nIn the morning, she was gone. When he woke up, he found a small note on a piece of paper next to him.\n\n*Thank you for the food. I've been wandering these woods for 15 years, and you're the first person I've ever seen. Maybe we will run into each other one day, and I can feed you. My name is Allison. I hope to hear your voice one day.*\n\nAlan began to pack up his camp. It was time for a new life."
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[WP] A person with a high school education gets sent back into the 1600s and tries to explain science and technology to the people.
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"I started with 1600's, but I changed it to 1800's, sorry :/ I hope you like the story! Pay attention to the names, especially toward the end :) This is my first time attempting at a writing prompt in this subreddit, so be nice if I broke any rules or anything!\n\n\n\n-------------------------------------------------\n22 December 1847 – Some distance past Star Valley, Wyoming\n\nThe cold is unbearable. My family and I had been on the trail west for a few months. Unfortunately, we had some difficulty with the wagons and Tulip, one of my oxen, has a bad leg, slowing us down a bit. My wife Lucy’s disposition towards me is none the nicer at the moment. The night before last was especially cold, and we were having a great tumult of spirit trying to keep the fire going so my babe wouldn’t freeze. The plains have nary a tree ‘round us, and we haven’t decent food provisions anymore. At times I do not think we shall live to see our new home. \n\n\n\n24 December 1847 – Some great distance south and west\n\nI do not believe anyone reading this will believe. If I had not experienced what I just have, I would not have believed it either. Lucy and I stopped the wagon yesterday morning to tend to a frostbitten toe of mine. As we were wrapping the bandages, a pale light shone some distance behind us. It appeared as if it were a second sunrise, though not entirely as bright. I struggle to describe its effect for I never had seen such a display in all my years. The light grew brighter and brighter, and there was a terrible noise coming out of it, like the roar of some magnificent beast of the field. The roaring grew louder and the light grew fainter until, to my astonishment and fear, a great machine appeared out of it. It had two lights, attached to the front, yet no fire to fuel them. The machine appeared to be a wagon, yet no oxen or horses to pull it. It moved entirely of its own accord. Its wheels were black and the height of myself up to the hip, with deep grooves, as if to dig into the earth below it. \n\nThe operator of the machine was a young man, no older than 30. He was clean, jovial, and had no coat in the foul cold. He climbed out of the machine and beckoned to my wife and myself. He said his name was Eli and that he was here to help us. He said that our babe needed to be warm to survive the cold. He opened a door in the back of his monstrous metal wagon and told my wife to “hop in”. I followed. We sat in the back of the wagon. The heat! It was warm within this strange machine! No fire was lit around us, yet we were warm! I even removed my coat for I had actually become uncomfortably warm in it sitting inside the machine. As my wife and I warmed ourselves and my little babe, we watched as Eli removed what little items we had left in our wagon and placed them in the back of his. I couldn’t believe the kindness and wondered why and how he had arrived. \n\n“I’m from a place you will never see,” said Eli. He asked me where we were going. I told him Oregon. \n\n“No,” he said. “I’m taking you somewhere better. A place where you will never have to worry for your family’s well-being ever again.” He went on to explain his wagon. He said it was an otto mobeel. It was a carriage that could carry us great distances. \n\nHe fastened a cloth harness to himself and asked us to do the same for safety. In an instant, the brilliant light we saw earlier came again. It shone round about us and encompassed the otto mobeel. Then, suddenly, day turned to night and we were travelling at a speed at which I cannot even describe. Light came from tall poles, shining on the smooth surface we rode along. Other otto mobeels were all around us, all of them travelling faster than any horse I’d ever seen. Lucy gave a shout in fear. Eli told us that there was nothing to worry about. We travelled all that night, passing by enormous cities with buildings made of metal and stone. We passed them by all night.\n\nAbout a day and a half later, we arrived here. I don’t know what happened, but as we slept, we arrived. We woke up to the same white light and when we awoke, there was no lights. There was no large cities made of stone. The place Eli said he would leave us at would change our lives forever. I know not by what he meant, but we are very far from where we intended to be. There’s woods all around and a creek and a small mill. I introduced myself to the owner, by the name of John Sutter. I figured I needed some work, and since I have experience has a carpenter, I wager my services would be useful. Mr. Sutter asked my name, and I replied James Marshall. He offered me a decent wage to bring supplies and to help with the lumber. I reckon life here at Sutter’s mill will be a better life than we had before, yet I still know not why Eli left us here. He did mention during the night as we passed the brilliant lights that wherever he leaves us, to pay attention to what I see in the creeks. I’ve decided not to share my experience with Eli and his strange wagon with anyone other than my family. I believe it would be for the best.\n",
"\"Witch!\"\npause\nOkay so here i am running from a mob of angry Europeans convinced i was a witch. All i did was try to explain the internet. But i'm getting ahead of myself. Let's jump back two hours ago to when i was not running for my life.\nrewind\nI throw up. Apparently eating before time travel is not a great idea. Without cash in hand, and nothing but the clothes on my back I'm off. The year 1604 and I, a simple 17 year old, am ready to take on the world. I figure with my knowledge of the future i can make some serious cash in the past. I \nI had heard of this man named Johny hopkins who might me able to help me. According to the history books he was about to make the biggest business deal of his life, and i was about to stop him.\n\nApon entering his business i noted the overbearing musk, a scent hard to shake away. I hear voices coming from the back, i walk through the door with strength in my stride.\n\"Stop right there mr Hopkins\"\nI notice he is about to sign the deal.\n\"And who are you?\" He exclaims.\n\"I am about to save you quite a bit of money, you see, i am from the future, i know how the stock market will play out, and i intended to make you my business partner.\"\nI had practiced that line at least twenty times before arriving in the past. Unfortunately, the plan did not go as expected.\n\"Which!\"\nYes, apparently telling someone who is living in the heat of the which hunt, that you are from the future, is not a great idea.\nWith that, i was off running. With a mob behind me i did not stop, pitchforks and fire make for a good stimulant.",
"\"How did I think this would be a good idea. These people were not ready for the ideas. I should have known. I should have listened more closely to my history lessons. I thought they would be grateful. I thought they would understand. They didn't understand, they weren't grateful. They were afraid.\n\nIt started slow. I had to establish myself which wasn't hard with my knowledge. They respected me for my intellect. Some even revered me as they noticed that I seemed to know things that were going to happen before they happened but then after a few years I began to tell others my knowledge and try to introduce the technology.\n\nThey thought I was crazy. They couldn't wrap their minds around it. As a species we created this technology slowly, made it in baby steps, having our understanding grow alongside the tech. It seems like these people couldn't handle it all at once, and didn't want to.\n\nI'm on the run for religious heresy now. I never should have come back here. I never should have told them as much as I did. The accusations were too much. The messages were being received well until it got to the church. The priests denounced me and now everywhere I go they shun me, if they don't try to kill me.\n\nI don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home. If you find this letter please, don't let anyone make the same mistake I made.\"\n\nEDIT: punctuation error",
"(EDIT: Fixed a couple paragraphs)\n\nJohn was careful to wear renaissance clothes. He put the things he needed in his leather backpack and activated the time-plane destruction device, a.k.a. Time Machine.\n\n\"I really hope I don't end up messing the timeline. But I really want to be part of this\", he thought.\n\nHe pressed the switch, and he found himself in... Rome.\n\n\"Rome! What an excellent opportunity to know Leonardo Da Vinci himself!\"\n\nLucky for him, he was carrying enough food to maintain himself for a while. A bunch of ham in a thermal container made sure it wouldn't rot for a few days. And he was carrying a full package of breads.\n\nSo he walked as a common peasant and walked to the Sistine Chapel. He entered, knelt, and made the sign of the cross (he wouldn't like to be mistaken for a heretic - that would be a major mistake).\n\nTo his surprise, the chapel was already painted and completed.\n\nThis shouldn't be. Did he arrive in the wrong time? Dammit...\n\nHe checked his watch. 1670?? No! He wanted to go to 1470!\n\n\"I didn't arrive to the beginning of the renaissance\", he muttered to himself. \"Instead, I arrived at the Enlightenment! But wait... does this mean I'll get to meet sir Isaac Newton?\"\n\nJohn knew that taking his magical device aka Android(TM) where people could see him would be pretty dangerous. So he took out a few coins to rent a room at an Inn.\n\nThe first thing he noticed was that the locals were dressing completely different from what he had expected.\n\n\"Shit... I'm dressed for the Renaissance period... but I'm in the Baroque!\"\n\nRemoving and adjusting his clothes he now looked like an out-of-fashion but still acceptable guy.\n\nJohn was lucky to have enough money to buy a few Troy ounces (silver AND gold). He then proceeded to fuse them in the appropriate shapes. Thank God for wikipedia.\n\nSpeaking of, this was the app (offline, of course) that he opened while he was alone in his room.\n\n\"Let's see. Isaac Newton. 25 December 1642 – 20 March 1727. Excellent. Let's see what he was doing in 1670.\n\nAh hah! He hadn't yet published his works on calculus! This will be an excellent idea! But now this means that I have to go to Cambridge University... ah God... let's see what other geniuses of the time I can meet.\"\n\nPressing the touch screen on his android tablet, Johnny typed \"Age of Enlightenment\".\n\n\"Let's see...\"\n\n\"Italy.\" \n\"Giambattista Vico. He's just a baby right now. Nope.\"\n\"Antonio Genovesi. Not born yet. Damn. Who are these guys, anyway?\"\n\n\"Baruch Spinoza. 24 November 1632 – 21 February 1677. He dies 7 years from now? Man... so what am I going to talk with him? Philosophy? No. Let's search for someone else.\"\n\nSurfing around wikipedia, John kept searching for philosophers and mathematicians to meet.\n\nAnd he realized that just a few miles away from him, a famous astronomer called Giovanni Cassini was studying the planets and comets with his telescope.\n\nHe would only have to go to Bologna.\n\nBologna, there we go!\n\nWith the local coins he had acquired, John traveled from Rome to Viterbo, Sinalugna, Florence, and Bologna, stepping by plazas to admire the art the people around would draw. And the sculptures! He managed to contemplate Pluto and Proserpina by Bernini. This was just beautiful.\n\nHe spent a few weeks more than he had imagined, but it was all worth it. Finally, he was in Bologne.\n\nWhen he arrived at the University of Bologna, he asked for professor Cassini.\n\n\"No, figliolo, il professore è andato in Francia l'anno scorso.\" \n(No, kid, the professor went to France the last year!)\n\n\"L' anno scorso!?!? Dove?\"\n\n\"A Parigi.È andato per fare una richiesta al re di Francia per costruire un'osservatorio.\" \n(To Paris. He went for a petition to the king of France to build an observatory)\n\n\"Grazie tante.\"\n\n(Note: The above dialogue was translated to modern Toscano, but in reality in Bologna, a very different dialect was spoken at that time. Luckily, John was carrying his automatic translator, which the time traveler had also given to him as a very necessary tool, as he learned)\n\nGreat. He was going to meet his first enlightened mind and he went already to Paris. \"Fuck it\", he thought. He hid behind a bush and traveled using his time machine again.\n\n\"Paris Observatory. 48.8364 degrees North, 2.3365 degrees East.\"\n\nWhen the professor went to offer the young man some water, he realized that the kid had already gone.\n\nBut John had just arrived there. A few dozen meters from where he arrived, there was a man with a long black curly wig looking at his telescope. It was already the evening.\n\n\"Professor Cassini?\" \n\"Yes, just a minute.\", he said in very good french. After the professor had finished taking notes, he looked at the young man. \"You must be a foreigner. What's a young man from Germany doing in here?\" \n\"No, I'm from... Britain. Actually, I came all the way from Bologna looking for you.\" \n\"Oh... please, have a seat.\" \n\nThe professor grabbed a nearby chair. \"Sorry for the mess. It's from the construction.\" \n\"Yes, I can see.\" \n\"How can I help you?\" \n\"I just wanted to meet you, professor, and talk about science.\" \n\nThe professor smiled. \"It's hard to see young men interested in science. What kind of science? Astronomy, I suppose. Where did you say you came from?\" \n\"England.\" \n\"I suppose you've met professor Newton.\" \n\"No... not yet.\" \n\"I wrote to him about my observation about his theory of Universal Gravitation. I suppose you've heard of it?\" \n\"Yes, of course!\" \n\"Did you know it's flawed?\" \n\nJohn was frozen solid.\n\n\"Wait, flawed? In what sense?\" \n\"I did an experiment a few years ago. It turns out the Earth is elongated at the poles.\" \n\"Professor... what about heliocentrism?\" \n\"You mean that crazy idea of Copernicus? NONSENSE! If you want to know the truth, know this: The Earth is at the center of a cosmic vortex, and the celestial bodies are dancing around that vortex. This is what I'm going to prove when this observatory is finished.\"\n\nA few seconds passed, and John was left speechless.\n\n\"Don't feel that way, son. People make mistakes.\" \n\"Thank you, professor\", said John, recovering his composture. \"I'll visit this observatory when it's finished.\"\n\nDisappointed at the ignorance of one of the brightest astronomers of his time, John decided to go back to the US in his time machine. \"At least\", he thought, \"in the present we all know the Earth revolves around the sun.\"\n\nAnd then he realized that what he tried to do - teaching science to the ignorant - was impossible for a high school student, even if he had the knowledge of wikipedia available at the touch of a button. If he wanted to teach Science, he could do it after becoming a teacher himself.\n\nAfter all, how could he manage to rebuke Cassini, if he lacked the mathematical tomes or the astronomical observations required?",
"\"You see, this simple piece of flint strikes upon the steel rasp to create a spark.\" Jack flipped open the small catch and the arms merchant leaned in, intent. \"In here there is a small charge of powder, a primer if you will, and the spark ignites it and thusly the main charge. Much more reliable than the matchlocks you are using now.\"\n\nThe merchant sat back, already counting chests of coin. Who this \"Jack\" was and where he was from was a mystery. His accent was strange and his manner outlandish and offensive, but the inventions! Every one of them the key to immense wealth, every one of them something that could change the fortunes of nations. Clearly Jack would have to be handled with care - one such as this may shatter an empire with a thoughtless word.\n\n\"Tell me again about 'methane' and its use, Jack.\"\n\nIf nothing else, they would soon be decidedly wealthy men.",
"\"Any last words heretic?\" screamed the priest. \n\"Christ, I'm an idiot. There's no such thing as evolution, please spare me!\" cried Brian as tears dripped down his cheek and then rolled down the splintered grain where his neck rested. Moments later the blade sliced through Brian's skin and severed his neck cleanly. His eyes rolled back and then he met his maker. \n",
"\"So everyone is a Witch in the future?\"\n\n\"No, like, you know thunderstorms? The jagged beams of light that come from the sky?\"\n\n\"Lightning, but I d-\"\n\n\"Ok, that is the electricity. Okay, a couple hundred years from now this guy, Ben Franklin, has this... Well I'm not going to tell you exactly what, but he harnessed the electricity with a conductor, which electrocuted him and he was like 'whoa that was a lotta power' and then all these other guys started using it. One of the most innovative inventions was the light bulb, whi-\"\n\nI stopped and noticed a crowd had gathered. Each of the spectators examined my appearance as they listened. \"What is this *light, bulb*? It sounds like black magic to me,\" he said accusingly.\n\n\"It is not magic,\" I said in emphasis, \"a light bulb it a thing that uses electricity to give off light. It can light up anywhere from a small closet to a football field!\"\n\n\"*Football. Field*\"\n\n\"Oh my god. There is this sport whe-\"\n\n\"*Sport*\" These people are either highly uneducated or sports aren't common. Probably a combination of the two.\n\n\"NEVER MIND THAT,\" I said, laughing after I realized I raised my voice, \"they can light up very large areas adequately.\"\n\n\"But.. How?\"\n\nThis was pointless. \"MAGIC. It's powered by magic.\"\n\nThe entire crowd around me murmured things like \"See I knew it,\" and \"We did tell him.\"",
"Journal Entry\n06/02/2014\n\n\n“The experiment went perfectly. The results: since yesterday I now reside in the seventeenth century. I am uncertain of the exact year in which I am, but I must now do what I came here to do. I shall know the exact date when I embark in my mission. Although I still feel dizzy because of the time travelling journey, I must start as soon as possible.\n\n\nIt appears the instruments with which I came are all damaged. It doesn’t matter; I still have enough advantage to accomplish the mission. It seems though, that the Taser is still working perfectly. That might be enough.\n\n\nWhat I must do now is try to explain to everyone how I really am the chosen one by god, to rule England. Through my electric discharging tools I shall become the new king of these lands of old. And with the knowledge of a mind from the twenty first century, I shall create a perfect tyranny that’s led by ideals of science. I shall fix everything!”\n\n\nAnd as Tom went outside the cottage, he was met with the English civil war. Two bullets enter his skull, one from the front, and the other from the back, colliding within his brain. The items he came with to be lost amidst the rubbles of history.\n",
"The wizard rubbed his beard as he watched the naked stranger sleep. The wizard stood in a long grey robe and carried a staff topped with a polished stone. He bent over and examined the iron clasp holding the crazed man to the dungeon floor. He glanced at the burly guard standing in the doorway. The guard held his sword in a defensive posture, its sharp edge reflecting the early morning light pouring through the small barred windows.\n\nThe wizard smiled at the guard and waved his hand. The guard stuttered, \"But but, the pr-princess said to watch this stranger. He could be dangerous, my lord.\" He paused, \"I live only to protect the crown,\" and gave a half-bow, careful not to lower his sword.\n\nThe wizard ran his staff across the rough rock of the dungeon wall, sparks flew from the stone topper, and the guard gasped. \"I am a member of the royal court, advisor to the king, the princess's personal magician, and a humble practitioner of the hidden arts, my newest friend. I think I will be safe,\" he said with a grandfatherly smile. The wizard performed a sleight-of-hand trick and produced a piece of dried meat. \"This is for you, my friend. A gift from an old, old man,\" he said. The guard caught the meat as the wizard lightly tossed it. \"My magic requires the strictest of privacy,\" he said as the guard examined the smoked morsel.\n\n\"Yes, my lord,\" he said as he closed the door behind him and walked away.\n\nThe wizard rubbed his beard again and sighed. He poked the man with his staff, \"Wake up, stranger,\" he said. The man slowly came to. His eyes went wide, \"G..g..gandalf,\" he asked.\n\nThe wizard let out a belly laugh. \"I know not of this Gandalf. My name is Necheles, like my father and his father before him. I am a learned man in our king's court. His daughter asked me to check on your welfare. There are concerns that you are a lost foreigner or perhaps even a spy. You are clearly educated and well-mannered. Be you a royal, sir?\"\n\nThe man sat down on the cold stone, self-conscious of his nakedness. The wizard tossed him a blanket hanging on the back of the cell door. The man wrapped himself in it. \"I come from another time. I don't know why I'm here. I've been living in the wilderness. I nearly starved. I'm sick,\" he said coughing.\n\n\"Tell me of your lands,\" asked the wizard as he sat on a small wooden stool.\n\n\"I'm from the same lands, but in the future... do you understand future?\"\n\n\"I'm familiar with magickal time, yes. It was deep within magickal time when this staff was gifted to me from an ancient power. I'm afraid your madness is quite unique. I can brew a potion to help you, sir.\"\n\nThe man stood up angrily, \"I don't need a fucking potion. I need to get out of here.\" His chains rattled as he stood.\n\nThe wizard stood and waved his hands, \"Stop,\" he ordered as a plume of smoke appeared.\n\nThe man coughed and laughed, \"Is that a smoke pot? We made those in high school. Potassium and something else. You can make it from bird shit.\"\n\nThe wizard slapped his staff on the ground and sparks flew. He posed dramatically. \"Err, that's just a flint rock, right,\" he added.\n\n\"Look, I can tell you things. How mechanics work. How democracy works. How medicine works,\" he pleaded. \n\nThe wizard stood there pondering. \"You can tell me all these things? All these... disruptive things? How they work? How we can make them work?\"\n\n\"Yes, I can! I worked with my hands. I can make your magic look like child's play. We can make a deal, let me go, and I'll tell you everything.\"\n\nThe wizard smiled, \"That is a generous offer, sir. I will bring this up to the princess. She surely will be pleased.\"\n\nThe man smiled as the wizard walked out of the cell.\n\nThe wizard walked up to the guard, \"Gag him now and schedule his execution post-haste. He is a spy and a threat to the princess. My apologies for the harshness of this, but this is a dangerous man. The princess's life is our most cherished jewel, my friend. I trust you and your men will have no trouble with this... task?\"\n\nThe guard bowed deeply, \"I will personally make it my duty of honor to perform this task for the princess.\"\n\nThe wizard smiled, \"Thank you, my friend. You have made this frightened old mage happy and have continued to protect the crown. You possess a rare honor and the court will surely make note of it.\"\n\nThe guard bowed again and ran towards the head guard's office. \n\nThe wizard chuckled, \"...magic as child's play, eh? Democracy? Nonsense! Provocative nonsense,\" and walked alone down the quiet stone corridor, the tails of his robe dragging behind him with a quiet swishing sound.",
"\"So basically, magic,\" said the bartender. The rest of the villagers murmured in agreement.\n\nI had stopped concealing my sighs hours ago. \"No. Elec-tri-city.\" \n\nThe hardest part about suddenly appearing in the year 1612 is thinking you're going to change the world and then realizing you have no idea how things really work.\n\nI had started with the whole bacteria thing and that went nowhere for awhile. I mean, think about it. Yeah, so there's these tiny living things that are so small that you can't see them (but trust me they're there!) that are attacking your body, which by the way is made up of billions of tiny things themselves, and when the bad tiny things get the better of your good tiny things, you get sick, and your body has these specialized tiny things that fight the bad tiny things and if those fighting tiny things win, then you get better. \n\nFuck me, right? I had actually succeeded in introducing pasteurization. I didn't exactly know how to do that either, but I brought the pond water and milk to a boil before cooling it back down ('cause it kills the tiny bad things!). The few people who looked passed my lunatic rantings and committed to trying my stuff were getting less sick from liquid, so I guess the process worked. I had a larger following now and they were listening to me.\n\n\"How about this,\" I said. \"So the lightning, that we create from... uhm, this lightning creating station, travels through the metal wire that's connected to every home, and is received by this glass ball that has this tiny piece of metal in it that glows from getting hot from the lightning and that's electrical light for you.\"\n\nThe villagers looked around at the candles and oil lanterns that lit the bar quite well, gave each other nods that seemed to say \"yeah we got this whole 'light' thing down already, stop your lightning harnessing nonsense\" and turned back to me.\n\n\"So basically... magic,\" said the bartender.\n\n\"Get me a key,\" I said over the ensuing rabble. \"And a kite. There's a storm tonight and I'll show you exactly what I mean.\"\n\nAn old lady answered me. \"What's a kite?\"\n\n\"Get me some sticks and string and... uhm... paper? Or cloth? Uhm...\"\n\nFuck me, right?"
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soylent_(food_substitute)
Soylent has become the sole source of nourishment for humanity.
The Government supplies their loyal citizens with all the Soylent they need and use the controlled distribution as a means to control the undesirable populace. Hunting has been outlawed and while growing and harvesting crops is deemed necessary, all farms are owned by the Government. Real food is treasured by the wealthy elite and traded in underground markets.
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[WP] Soylent
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"Tommy walked back with his and his mother's quota of soypro orange in a little backpack. He carried both his and his mother's id cards in his little hand. He stared down at the broken concrete, salivating at the thought of eating his bowl of soypro. He never had the orange version. He played a little too long that day and was extra hungry. \n\nHe looked up and saw a whimpering feral dog. It stared at his backpack, sniffing incessantly. He performed a mock impression of his mother, \"Tommy, you do not feed animals. That's a time-out.\" He walked past the dog as it continued to whimper. He continued his impression, \"Tommy, you're half the weight you should be. Feed just yourself! Take care of yourself not others!\"\n\nHe passed the party headquarters building and touched the ivory railings surrounding its stairs. He liked feeling the strange material on his fingers. He looked around and climbed the stairs. He looked into the window and saw several people inside drinking wine and eating cheese. He touched the window with his hand leaving a gruby handprint. A woman inside noticed him and ran out.\n\n\"Get the fuck out of here you little shit,\" she yelled at him while holding a cattle prod. He stood dumbfounded there staring at her fine skirted suit and her pearl earrings. He's only seen things like these in movies. She waved the prod threateningly and lightning jumped between the two points on its end. Tommy's eyes widened when he saw the flash of light.\n\n\"Wait Sarah,\" said a man in a suit as she marched back inside. \"Hello, little boy,\" he said as he bent over. \"Do you know who I am?\"\n\n\"No,\" whispered Tommy, looking at the gold ring on the man's finger and his chubby face. \n\n\"I'm Senator Thompson. I'm your senator.\"\n\nThe boy made a quizzical face.\n\n\"Can I have some cheese,\" asked the boy.\n\nThe senator laughed. \"My son, how can I explain this to someone so tender and young? The Freedom party stands for freedom. The freedom of markets to do what they want! Freedom from regulations! Freedom to stop abortion and gays and deviants! The freedom to not be taxed to death! The freedom to achieve! The freedom to do what you want! You like freedom right?\"\n\n\"Yes sir,\" said the little boy salivating at the thought of eating cheese. He licked his lips.\n\n\"But the Freedom party is a compassionate party,\" he added. \"Look at our generous portions of soylent! Look at how we help you help yourself!\"\n\nThe boy looked down at his feet, \"Please sir, a little cheese? I just want to taste cheese. I read about it in school once.\"\n\nThe man sighed, kicked the boy with his fine Italian loafers, and said, \"Get the fuck out here you goddamn ingrate. I'm so sick of you welfare cases!\" He yelled back, \"Sarah, call security if this little shit doesn't leave.\" Tommy saw the senator was wearing a holster with a pistol.\n\nThe boy stood up at the bottom of the stairs. He mocked his mother's voice again, \"Don't talk to strangers, Tommy! That's a time-out!\" He sighed and said to himself, \"Yes mommy. Yes, mommy.\"\n\nHe looked back at the party building as two men with machine guns walked out. He ran away and met the whimpering dog again. It sighed and laid down, its little ribs poking through its chest. Tommy poured out half his soypro in front of it. It licked up the goo and barked. Tommy smiled. He began rehearsing his lie, \"Mommy, bullies took the soypro! They were big kids! I begged them to leave half!\"\n\nHe mocked his mother's voice again, \"That's a time-out, Tommy! A time-out!\"",
"She swallowed, she swallowed hard. With a plugged nose, and a grimace etched upon her face, she had consumed the last of the murky substance. With a cock-eyed glance into the bottom of the glass, she was satisfied, or at least her body was. Her mind, however, was reeling. \n\n\"331 days\" She whispered. \"331 days since I've taken a bite of real food.\"\n\nWhilst tying her hair back into a pony-tail, Eve fell face first into the couch, an unrelenting puff of dust erupting from the armrest, as if to greet the returning inhabitant. \n\nWithout stirring, Eve lazily kicked the wallcontrols, prompting the television to life. A high pitched squeal was the first noise to announce it's arrival, followed by an up-beat salesman selling \"high definition\" knives.\n\n\"Neeeeext\" Eve moaned\n\nAn angry woman with a picket sign- \"Neeeext\" \nA soccer player running down the field- \"Neeext\"\nA shiny skinned man doing push-ups- \"Neeext\"\n\nWhen at last, something that made Eve stop and stare.\nWhile in foresight being an odd thing to stumble upon, it seemed all too perfect to just be a coincidence. A golden rotisserie chicken, being slow roasted over an open flame. Glazed in what appeared to be a yellow viscous melt. Tied at the feet, with skin ready to be torn off.\n\nEve couldn't help it, her stomach growled loudly in protest, her mouth watered uncontrollably. She jumped into an upright position, hands firmly set upon her knees. With penetrating eyes, Eve not only watched, but consumed what was happening on screen. The soft crackling permeating from the speakers, was too much for her to handle. \n\nWith the grey powder still resting on the back of her tongue, Eve swallowed again, but this time was different, this time, she wasn't going to let her nerves get the best of her. \n\nScrambling around the house, Eve managed to find two clean socks, a shirt with as few holes as possible, and pants that were much too small. \n\nAt last, dressed, and ready to go, she found herself kneeling infront of her fathers old mattress, tattered, ragged, and with more blood stains than any bedding should be allowed, Eve sunk her arm deep inside, and produced a small handgun loaded with only 3 rounds. \n\nTears welling up her eyes, kissing the Christian necklace around her neck, she swept her lavender hair behind her head, and headed out the door.\n\n\n[Disclaimer, I wrote this at 6:52 am, with a fever and having been awake for too long. sorry if it sucks ass]\n"
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[WP] People that die in the ocean become mermaids
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[
"I take a deep breath. After all it'll be one of the last ones that I'll ever be having. One more breath. Just one more breath. I thought as I stood on the edge of the cliff. I had always liked the ocean when I was younger. Was always fascinated by just looking out on the coastline. \n\nBut now it all felt different. I thought I would be a hopeless romantic, doing this in the one place I truly loved. But what did I have to be afraid for? I got expelled from school because of my jealous ex-boyfriend telling the dean I was dealing drugs and placed some weed in my locker. My parents don't want to talk to me either. They always said they liked him and he was such a nice boy and why on earth would I break up with him? They took his side. The bastard. \n\nThe ocean breeze swirls around me, making my body shiver at it's embrace. I can feel the rope tense around my leg as I shiver. Yes that hempen rope, tied around a cinder-block I stole from my dad's garage and then attached to my ankle. The two simple items that would take me to oblivion. Well I needed one more thing. I needed a push. I took the cinder block in my trembling hands. The rough granite texture scratching my pale skin. I was hardly able to move because of the weight. I took one last look around me and jumped.\n\nThe wind whipped around me at top speed as I fell. I let go of the cinder-block and it followed my descent downwards right by my side. As if it was my best friend. Before I could think longer on that sentiment my feet came crashing down on cold ocean water. Though it might as well have been cold ocean concrete. I wince in pain at the feeling resonating through my whole body. My body was shaking and seizing up. I wanted to take a deep breath to clear the feeling but then I reveled in the stupid idea that this was. I couldn't get the relief I wanted. I could only hope death could come quick as my body sank lower and lower due to the heavy weight on my leg. I can feel it yanking me down. Deeper and deeper. Finally my body is tired of holding in the motion and I open my mouth for air to find only salty water to greet me. My head starts to pound, pulsate and spin all at once. I knew I was going to die but was this how it felt like? I could only hope that I would lose consciousness soon to escape this horrible damned feeling. Dear god my lungs... It hurts. I closed my eyes. Trying to keep them from bulging out of my skull from the pressure. Then after I thought it couldn't get any worse, I slipped away.\n\nIt was only a small slip though. I opened my eyes again to my bewilderment. I couldn't feel the pain in my lungs, and I felt something slip off of my...leg? I look down to see a beautiful shimmering fish-like tail. The rope slipped off of the bottom fin and the cinder-block continued it's descent without me attached to it's burdening weight. I put my hands to my neck and feel the pulsating gills that were now there processing the water instead of my lungs. I took a deep breath. Never feeling more relieved in my entire life. I looked out in the deep blue underwater distance. Remember the times of when I would look out at the coastline. And for once I felt truly at home.\n",
"\"OH look at dis guy!\" said Tony. \"I know we sent you to sleep with da fishes but i didn't think you'd take it literally.\"\n\n\"Fuck you, you walking bastard. I gotta deal with fin rot. Do you know what kind of pain in da ass dat is? You motha fuckers!\" said Big Pussy\n\n\"Hey! Take it easy. I'm not here to bust your balls. I actually got a job for you.\" said Tony\n\n\"You gotta a job for me? Bullshit.\" said Big Pussy.\n\n\"Well its not like you gonna wear a wire unda-water.\" said Tony\n\n\"Fuck you, what's da job?\" said Big Pussy\n\n\"We got a shipment of goods coming in, and da coast guards got us blockaded.\"-said Tony\n\n\"Why not just pay 'em off?\" asked Big Pussy\n\n\"Ah they're a bunch of fucking boyscouts. None of 'em wanna play ball. But we need dis stuff to Jersey pronto. i gotta guy waiting out in international waters. I want you to go out der and meet him. He's gonna give you some packages and I want you to bring 'em to shore for me. Underwater, right under the coast guards nose. But its alot. You'll need some muscle.\" said Tony\n\n\"Give me the coordinates. Gimme a GPS. Ill get some of dese mer-bitches and ex sailors out there and we'll get took care of. But you gotta do something for me.\" said Big Pussy\n\n\"You get this job done first. Then whatever you want, I'm sure I can do.\" said Tony.\n\n\"I want an aquarium.\" said Big Pussy.\n\n\"Fuck like a little one. What da fuck you want dat for? You got the whole ocean to look at fish.\" said Tony.\n\n\"Nah, I want it for me. I want in Jersey so I can come visit maybe start making some moves again. But its gotta be huge. Like, ugh, da one they got dat whale in. What's his name?\" said Big Pussy.\n\n\"Shampoo or shamoo or some shit. That's a big a request.\" said Tony.\n\n\"It's a big job.\" said Big Pussy\n\n\"Fine, see ya soon.\"\n\n\"See ya.\"",
"X-Posted between here and /r/nosleep, here's my story: \n\nI grew up in Oregon, right on the cold, dismal edge of the Pacific Ocean. Fifteen minutes in any direction would take you to a beach, an open expanse of sand dunes, a National or State park, or one of about a dozen permanent lakes. For years, every summer we'd go to a family friend's house to use their lakefront property and their dock. Looking back it doesn't seem like much, but I can remember spending countless hours there swimming, kayaking, paddle-boarding and snorkeling.\n\nWhen I was twelve years old, I refused to go again. I hated the lake, I hated that house. I had nightmares for years and never explained to anyone why it happened.\n\nI still don't like to talk about it. Whenever I do, I feel like I can smell that lake again. People don't realize, but lakes are dirty places. Animals piss and shit and die in them, all kinds of plants rot on the surface, people dump their garbage. There's so much water that stays clear that people think that it's clean. It's not. All the lakes I've been to have a certain *smell* like they're not totally pure. \n\nThis lake - *my* lake - slowly developed a smell like death.\n\nThat sounds dramatic. It's not like you could just sniff the air and think \"That's death.\" No one would have gone to the lake if it had been like that. It was just a subtle thing that you caught a whiff of once and then it was gone. Maybe you looked around you for a dead fish or squirrel or something and then you forgot about it. I probably only noticed it was getting worse because on most days I was there from sun-up to sun-down.\n\nThe dock our friends owned was a simple hand-built thing that involved Styrofoam and treated two-by-fours. A few times it had come loose from the rope that held it and had drifted across the lake. It sat sandwiched between two bigger and more impressive boathouses. As you faced the lake from the shore, the boathouse on the right was freshly painted bright red and housed a small white fishing boat. A simple pulley system allowed the boat to be lifted out of the water while it was stored in the majority of the year when it wasn't being used.\n\nWe never saw inside the boathouse on the left, and we also never saw anyone use it. It was made of plywood that had once been painted dark green, though years of weather had warped the edges of the wood and it had shed about half its paint. That summer when I was twelve, it disappeared and we all assumed that it had just been torn down so that it wouldn't be such an eyesore.\n\nThat summer was the first one that I got really into snorkeling. I had explored the surface of the lake many times before in a boat, but that summer, I got to see a whole other world hidden below the surface. My friends and I caught salamanders, built things out of cinder blocks on the sandy bottom and found everything from fishing lures and golf balls to pieces of old boats and docks from the past.\n\nAs you might have guessed, the lake was pretty small but it was frighteningly deep. Huge trees would fall into it on occasion, become waterlogged and would turn vertically with only their roots or broken bases poking above the surface. A swimmer drowned there once and even though they used scuba equipment to try to find the body, it was never recovered. At a depth of about ten feet, the water was already as cold as it was in the winter. At about fifteen feet, it was dark enough that a thick forest of weeds were able to grow on the bottom. Beyond was just cold and darkness.\n\nMy friend and I devised a plan to use an upside-down plastic barrel full of air and a boat anchor to allow us to dive much further than we could while only holding our breaths from the surface. We'd go out to the dive spot using a surfboard, then, with the barrel covering our heads and masks, we clutched the anchor and jumped off, quickly sinking to the bottom of the lake. You basically dove blind, since you had the bucket over your head. We could go far enough that the pressure would compress the air in the barrel to half its original size. All we had to do in order to surface was to release the anchor, and the barrel full of air would propel us quickly to the surface. Then we'd reel up the anchor with a rope and start again.\n\nThis was fun for us to see how far we could go, and we got pretty good at it. The only bad times were when we would land in the deep weeds, which instantly tangled around our legs and ankles. We never got seriously stuck, but it would freak you out when you were expecting to land with both feet on the sand and instead landed in the weeds.\n\nOn a successful dive, you could see about five to ten feet in any direction, and looking up, you could see the outline of the sun, and the long shadow of the surfboard.\n\nThe last time I ever dove into the lake - the last time I ever swam in open water - was when I found the remains of the neighbor's boathouse. It was the first dive of the day, and we had paddled the surfboard straight out from the dock, a bit further than we normally did. It was about 10:30 am, and the water was still slightly cold from the night before. I put on my mask and snorkel, put the bucket over my head and curled my legs around the anchor like normal. This day, my friend had brought his father's underwater flashlight, so I readied that as well as the bucket above my head and took the plunge. I remember falling a long time. *Too* long, because the pressure was pressing my mask against my face uncomfortably, and the air in the barrel was compressed to smaller than I'd ever seen it. The rope, holding the anchor pulled taut, and I almost lost my grip.\n\nI don't believe in the little voice inside of a person that tells them the difference between right and wrong. I did, however, experience a very loud message from inside myself telling me that this was not a place I should be. It was too cold, too dark, and the pressure crushed in from all sides. It wasn't the first time I'd realized the absurdity of our little diving system, but it was the first time that it had struck me as being truly stupid. My body gave me the message loud and clear that I was an idiot, but my curiosity ultimately won out. Just a quick peek.\n\nI lifted the barrel above my head, and got my first sight of how deep I'd come. I was suspended on the rope between a gradient of gray/green above me to only blackness below. If I could have looked at myself from the outside, I'm sure I'd have resembled a worm on a hook.\n\nI had to let go of the barrel with one hand in order to grab the flashlight tucked into my swim trunks. The air in the bucket strained to float up, and the container tipped at a dangerous angle, but the bubble of air, being so compressed, stayed intact. I clicked on the flashlight, shining it down right in front of me.\n\nThe thin beam of harsh white light sprung into existence like a camera flash, and what I saw there...\n\nPeople.\n\nPale faces through thick, motionless black hair staring up at me from inside the remains of that old green boathouse, flipped upside down or fallen apart. They were there, right below me.\n\nI screamed, and dropped the flashlight at the same time as I kicked off from the anchor. The barrel started pulling me up to the surface, faster and faster. In a complete panic, I thrashed my remaining arm and legs in order to try to go faster. I had expelled all my air and I felt like this was the moment I was going to die. \n\nI felt sure that they were right behind me, their pale hands inches from my ankles. From one moment to the next felt like an eternity. The end of the rope fell past me. *Ten more feet.*\n\n*Nine.*\n\n*Eight.*\n\nFire in my empty lungs.\n\nI don't remember breaking the surface. I do, however remember being on top of the surfboard, alternately breathing so hard that I couldn't cry and crying so hard that I couldn't take a breath as my friend pushed my to shore. Once I reached dry land, I left without looking back.\n\nI felt then that it was so crazy, that I couldn't tell him, or my parents or anyone. There were people down there, not living people, but dead ones, with empty eyes, staring up at the gray, faraway surface. They must have been weighted down, or restrained. I don't remember.\n\nWhat I do remember is that as the flashlight fell into the weeds, it shone on the most horrible part of all. The legs of one of these... things had been roughly sewn together to create the image of a grotesque mermaid, including a large and elegantly shaped black tail.\n\nFor a long time after that incident, I tried to pretend that it hadn't happened - that I hadn't seen what I thought. Trees, or logs, not twin female bodies. A patch of sand through the weeds... *Anything* to not have to accept a reality that that scene could exist in.\n\nAs an adult, I've had to accept it. I still see it in the dark. I can't escape it. I've realized that whoever owned the boathouse, must have been *experimenting*. The swimmer who disappeared was probably one of those victims. I don't know who the other woman might have been. Somehow, the bodies would have to have been preserved. The only evidence of decay being from the eyes, which still stare at me in my nightmares.\n\nI'm still torn between wishing I'd investigated and learned more about it, and wishing to hell that I'd never, *ever* seen it.",
"\"Captain Blackscruff, By the Pirate Lords!\" First Swabby Ryan exclaimed.\n\nBlackscruff burst out with a hefty guffaw which seemed to ripple through the ocean he now bobbed in, \"Yarr Ryan, didja miss me?\"\n\n\"Bless me britches Cap'n, you were...you were,\" Ryan stammered, leaning over the portside railing of their little ship, the Inebriated Roger\n\n\"Down for too long? Yes I suppose so, but then the most amazin' thing happened.\"\n\n\"Cap'n, you...umm...\" Ryan started, \n\n\"You see I was chasing this glow in the deep water, when suddenly the currents sucked me down into an undersea chasm. I thought I would die, but then they called to me.\"\n\n\"Cap...\" Ryan's eyes bulged with a sense of urgency, but Blackscruff didn't seem to notice\n\n\"I heard the most beautiful voices calling to me, more beautiful than even those of all the sirens I've beached the Roger for in the past, callin' for me, Blackscruff his own true self! So, I did the unthinkable, I swam down...\"\n\n\"Ummm....\" Ryan interjected\n\n\"Dammit boy, lemme finish. So, I swam down, and I felt my vision begin to fade, but just as it did, a light shone out from Davy Jone's briny depths and I was surrounded by these beautiful maidens... no, Mermaidens!\"\n\n\"Mermaidens, uhhh...Cap!\" Ryan the Swabby looked as though he might burst at the gills if he didn't get a word in edgewise.\n\n\"Aye, thrice as beautiful as any lass on land, and thrice again as buxom and busty!\" Blackscruff shook with laughter again, and the ocean seemed to laugh with him. \"They spoke to me, wonderously, sonorously, asking me to lay with them, to lay with sea, and be as one. Ho ho! Let me tell ye, Blackscruff has never met a finer proposition!\"\n\nRyan forced out a chuckle, then resumed his previous bewildered expression, \"But Cap...\"\n\n\"Oh it was wonderous lad, all those girls swimming about me, touching every inch o' skin, and they sang such wondrous songs, I felt the cold chill of the depths stripped from my bones, with a warmth so mighty it propelled me straight to the surface. And here I bob before ye lad, a man who has lain with the sea\" Blackscruff triumphantly bellowed, letting out an equally bellowing laugh from his scurvy toothed mouth.\n\n\"Cap'n!\" the still-bewildered Swabby squawked, his voice insistent and urging. \n\n\"Ahhh out with it, you babbling buffoon, what could possibly be so important that ye hafta almost interrupt me tale o' glory?!\" Blackscruff spat\n\n\"Captain Blackscruff...YE GOT TITS\"\n\nBlackscruff looked, his saber-scarred face inclining his one good eye down, down past his crooked nose, his namesake scruff that never quite grew into a full beard, to his now buxom chest, jiggling and jostling in the waves, nipples only barely covered by two pink seashells. \n\nCaptain Blackscruff, terror of the Seven Seas, had tits.\n\nThe moral of this tale: If the sea ever resurrects its dead as mermaids, Mermaids are gonna get a lot less hot.\n\n*Edit: for spelling and junk",
"When I lost control of the wheel my grasp on the world around me slipped away. The pounding in my head when I came to was like jackhammers on pavement. I felt my gears grinding, my thoughts twisting and scraping against each other, rather than streamlining and flowing cleanly. There was blood everywhere, but it wasn't all mine. Serena was unconscious beside me, I noticed a large chunk of metal that had seared through her femoral artery and I cursed under my breath. I checked the horizon. The beach was close, but would I make it? I untangled myself from the seat belt, I could still taste the liquor on my breath and I could not even begin to describe the hatred I felt for myself. I managed to pry her lose of the seat and drag her out behind me.\n\nI ran full speed to the water despite the fact that my ankle felt horribly mangled. I knew this was her only chance. I let her down so many times I knew I couldn't let her down this one last time. The echo of her pleading voice moments before the crash still rang in my head.\n\nI knew I shouldn't have had that one last drink. \n\nThe sun was peaking its head through the mountains, her breath was ragged and we were leading a trail of blood over the rocks and sand. When I made it to the water, I dunked her in. I wasn't worried anymore. The waves rose to meet her, to consume her life form and make her one with the sea.\n\nI knew if there was any place she felt more at home, it was here.\n\nI sat on the beach crying, knowing nothing would ever be like it was before when I heard a familiar voice.\n\nThere she was, 20 feet away.\n\n\"I don't blame you, Jack. I'm not angry. I wish you well.\"\n\n\"Can I see you again? Will you meet me here?\" She would never age, she would always be as beautiful as she appeared now, while I would grow to be an old man, and if I were lucky, find my way to the sea.\n\n\"Of course I will. I will see you again, when the time is right. But for now, you have to go.\"\n\nAs I sit here now, on this very beach, skipping stones, the smell of her hair returns to me with such vivid clarity, the way her cheek dimpled when she smiled, and when her eyes closed ever so slightly when she enjoyed a nice cup of tea. I know she's watching me from the water and I feel like she's my guardian angel, protecting me the way I could never protect her.",
"Stars permeated the midnight blue sky above The Sundmaður as it rested on the still waters of the Norwegian Sea, as the Northern Lights danced to their own ethereal tune, painting swathes of neon from horizon to horizon. To the South, the tip of Iceland marked its presence by means of a lighthouse. Astrid stood on the bow, her eyes stung in the cold air of February, what little of her face that was open to the elements framed by a mass of fur on her hood. Her breath created clouds beneath her chin, and she stared out at the picturesque scene before her.\n\nWarmth engulfed her from behind, two arms folded across her waist. Kristian's voice broke the sound of water lapping at the boat.\n\n\"Such a beautiful night.\"\n\n\"I just wish papa could be here,\" Astrid replied.\n\n\"He's painting the sky as we speak,\" Kristian gestured to the art above their heads.\n\nAstrid sobbed, she turned and buried her face into Kristian's chest. Ten years had passed since Astrid's father had died whilst fishing out here, a rogue wave had capsized his vessel, and there were no survivors. Kristian had hired The Sundmaður to bring Astrid out to the place where her father's ship sunk, to mark the ten years of emptiness she had felt and to try and bring closure. She had to move on. He held her and stared out into the distance, they had arrived at the last known location of the Sjó Mær, and would have a small ceremony in the morning to remember Papa.\n\nSomething disturbed the water.\n\n\"Was that a dolphin?\" Astrid leaned over the side, eager to see one.\n\n\"We're a bit far north for that, aren't we?\" Kristian replied, \"Perhaps a narwhal.\"\n\nThere was nothing in the waters around them, much to Astrid's disappointment. She sighed, and leant against the railings.\n\n\"I just wish I could tell him I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"He knows.\"\n\n\"But I haven't told him! I wish I had told him I'm sorry before he left. I wish I hadn't told him I hated him. It was just a silly argument!\"\n\n\"Astrid, you were thirteen. Every teenager and their father falls out.\"\n\n\"I can't shake it.\"\n\nSomething disturbed the water.\n\n\"What *is* that?\" Astrid peered out into the darkness. Again, nothing.\n\n\"Just fish,\" Kristian dismissed the matter.\n\n\"It's bigger than fish!\"\n\n\"There are some big fish...\"\n\n\"Oh shut up.\"\n\nKristian turned the floodlights on, illuminating the black water.\n\n\"See? Nothing.\"\n\nSomething disturbed the water.\n\n\"There!\" Astrid pointed. A circular ripple travelled across the water.\n\n\"It's probably nothing!\" Kristian was starting to get agitated by this. It's the ocean, there's bound to be things jumping in and out of it!\n\nSomething disturbed the water.\n\n\"Kristian! It's a person!\"\n\nKristian threw himself at the barrier and leaned out to see. Has someone fallen overboard? He stared at the ripples. There was a head and two arms. The person wasn't screaming or making noise... they must be drowning!\n\n\"Man overboard!\" He shouted, and signalled the alarm. Crew roused from their stations and amassed on the railing, one threw a life ring out to the person, another group headed to one of the boats and prepared it to be lowered. \"Grab the ring!\" the crewman shouted.\n\nThe body didn't respond.\n\n\"Get in the ring!\"\n\nThe body looked at the ring, and laughed. The body then disappeared under the surface.\n\n\"He's drowning!\" Astrid screamed.\n\nThe boat was being lowered. Spotlights focused on the spot the body was seen last. Moments passed in silence as the boat sped over to the location and crewmen raked around beneath the water to find the body. Nothing.\n\nSomething disturbed the water.\n\nThe body was now ten feet in the air, the man glistened, naked, underneath the stars and the aurora borealis. His body dripped, only, something wasn't quite right... The torso was unmistakably human. There was a head, two arms, shoulders, a chest, a penis, a rear, and an abdomen. But the legs... they were stuck together, undefinable from each other, wrapped in flesh. You could still see they were once legs, you could see the bend in the knee, the bumps of the kneecaps, and the fact that there was an indentation running between them down the centre of this flesh. The feet had rotated to be at right angles with the body, and were elongated and flattened.\n\nEveryone watched in awe.\n\n\"A mermaid..?\" Kristian gasped.\n\nThe body disappeared beneath the water. Everyone clamoured to get a better look, phones were out and people were snapping photos and filming videos. This was the stuff of fairy tale, surely!\n\nSomething disturbed the water.\n\nThe body was beside the ship, beneath Astrid. Its eyes fixed upon her, and her's upon it. She knelt, and stuck her head under the railings.\n\n\"... Papa?\"",
"Emily walked along the shore, staring out into the glistening blue sea as the sun set. This was her favourite place to be after a long day. Especially today. You see, Emily had broken up with her boyfriend when she found him cheating on her with her best friend. Today just wasn't Emily's day.\n\nShe sat on the sand, and placed her hands on the shore, sighing as she felt the small bits of sand touching her hands. Just then, something splashed in the water. Emily immediantly turned her head, trying to find the source of the sound. But there was nothing. 'I'm probably going insane. Great!' She thought. Scratching her neck, she continued to reflect on what happened earlier today. *Splash!* There it was again. Emily snapped out of her thoughts and tried, again, to find who or what made the noise when she saw something shiny in the water. There was something alluring about the small, shiny thing. Emily slowly stood up, thoughts racing through her mind as she began to think of what might be making the splashing noise. It couldn't be a dangerous sea creature, after all, what creature had shiny scales? Emily didn't know, but she did not want to stay and find out. She backed away from the ocean. *Splash!*\n\nThis time, something popped up from the ocean. Emily looked at the girl, puzzled. She had wavy brown hair and sea blue eyes. Was she the one making those sounds? The girl smiled gently at Emily, beckoning her to move closer towards the crystal blue sea. Emily did. 'What am I doing?! I knew I was insane...' The girl swam closer towards the shoreline, and stopped when she was near the sand, but not near enough to be on it when the waves receded. Emily squatted down near the girl, and saw her shiny, alluring silver tail. She was a mermaid..! Emily realized, shock plastering all over her face. The girl giggled, seeing Emily's expression and continued to smile at her. Emily spoke. \"Who are you?\" The girl tilted her head, blinking. \"Oh, um, you can't speak?\" The girl nodded. \"I see.\" Suddenly, the girl grabbed Emily. \"H-Hey!\" The water was knee deep, but it was enough for Emily's clothes to be soaked wet. \"T-These clothes were new!\" The girl giggled, and dived into the cool, deep water. Emily stared at the spot where the girl was. Then, something grabbed her leg. \"W-What the he-\" And in Emily's last moments, she saw the mermaid mouth 'Join us.' before she blacked out.\n\n\n\nTwo girls splashed around in the sea, giggling in joy. One of them spotted another girl walking along the shore, kicking the sand. One of the girls grinned in delight. The other nodded.\n\nBoth mermaids swam towards the shoreline, heading for the oblivious girl."
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Brand new hoodie? its not broke in.
Brand new hat? it doesnt feel right.
Something you arent comfortable in.
Your words motherfuckers. Use em.
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[WP] Something mundane that ruins your day.
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"Today is the day. It's finally happening. I'm up before noon on a Saturday, and I'm catching up on chores. Shopping, laundry, cleaning, I've let it all go too long. But today I'm going to drag myself out of this fog and get shit done. \n\nI'm showered, fed, and dressed. Time to start chipping away at that list. I think I'll start with the grocery shopping. I'll want to have a good meal after I get my work done. \n\nI collect my essentials: wallet, phone, keys. Good to go. I get geared up in my coat and hat, and I'm out the door. I breathe deep as the frigid air hits my face. Yesterday it would have felt miserable, but now it's invigorating. I can already feel the satisfaction of a day well spent. \n\nI run my thumb over the keys in my pocket, and feel the unlock button. *click*... *silence*... I stop in my tracks, take in the situation. Okay, maybe it's just the key fob battery that's dead. Get in the car and try it. Uh oh, the dome light didn't come on. No, don't give up. Try the ignition anyway, it just might... Nothing. \n\nMy chin drops. \n\nMy shoulders fall. \n\n*sigh*, I'm going back to bed.",
"The bus was late.\n\nAn old lady sat down next to me, smelling faintly of cat piss. My headphones were in my ears but that didn't stop her from talking to me, so of course I had to take them out. So I listened to her. She complained about everything. The weather, the bus, her children, her grandchildren, and someone else's grandchildren. I nodded as she spoke to seem interested, cause I really wasn't.\n\nI stood up as one bus passed, \"Not in Service.\" Goddammit I just took out my metro card. From down the block I though it was the bus. I turned to sit back down but an old man was in my seat chatting up the old broad. Oh well, I guess I didn't want to sit anyway. I stood on the outskirts of the bus stop, smoking a cigarette now. It tasted terrible. I had forgotten that I wanted to give up smoking. Shit, I was on my second one already. Where was the bus?\n\nI heard the rumble of the engine and peek out into the street to see if its a bus. It was a garbage truck. It rolls on past me, filling my nostrils with a putrid mix of garbage and cold air. I don't know what it is about the cold, but it makes the garbage smell that much worse.\n\nMy watch flickers 9:27. I'm a thirty minutes late now. Great. I pick up my phone and call my office, \"Hey, I called this morning saying I was going to be late. I'm going to be a bit later now. The bus, yeah. It's taking forever, I don't know. Yeah I'll call 311. See you in a bit.\"\n\nI didn't call 311. If I was going to be late, I'd rather be late in ignorance. \n\nI peak over at the bus stop and the old man and lady were gone. Probably off to swinger's night at the old folks home, I don't know. Nor do I care. I sit down and slouch against the glass wall of the bus stop and stare out into the road. Car after car rolls by, how sweet it'd be to have a car. \n\nBut where would I get the money? \n\nSo I sit and I sit until a bus finally pulled up, forty-seven minutes late. I stand as the doors open and drop my MetroCard as I'm greeted by the ass of some Chinese man wearing a TD Bank hat. He turned and smiled, standing on the stairwell of an over crowded bus. \"Next bus,\" the bus driver croaks as he closed the doors and drove off. \n\nI sat back down and held back the desire to curse at every single person who even glanced my way.\n\n\n\n",
"Kevin: Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, excuse me. I have a question I need to ask your daughter. Marian, my dear. We've been dating for four years, and we've known each other since junior high. I've never been sure of many things in my life, but the only thing I'm certain about is you. I know I love you since you told me, in front of the whole class, that my pants were stained with ink. I hated you for that. But you apologized, and hated became love. One day, it became love for you,too. And today we're here, in front of your family, and there is a question I need to ask: Marian, love of my life, the only star in my sky, will you PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . . \nMr. Johnson: Hey, Kevin, looks like your pants are stained again! ",
"Coffee in a place that serves it. This is your ritual, the shortcut to yourself. It need not be great, nor need the place—whether rich and authoritative brew in a rich and authoritative establishment, or something quirky and exotic in someplace quirky and exotic, or Starbucks-standard boring in a boring standard Starbucks; it doesn’t matter. A table to call your own, a familiar aroma, and you are the most unfettered person in the world: free to write and read and draw and think and be.\n\nThe fateful day was exceptionally perfect. Sunny summer day, the shop was sparse in occupation but not overly so. Your book-bag hangs off your shoulder, hefty with promise, as you smile at the barista and order your usual. The exchange is quick and seamless, and then you have it in your hand, gentle heat suffusing soothing white ceramic. So close now. You turn, you stalk towards the table you spied earlier: the quiet, shy one in the corner. So close.\n\nYou have been here before, but never noticed the carpet with the upturned corner. It nudges the sole of a shoe, the barest of contact—but it is enough. Your balance is off. What would have been your final step is turned into an awkward lunge.\n\nYou can still save this. It does not have to end this way. Get the mug safely on the table.\n\nUnable to comply. The mug lands upright, but in turbulent fashion. The top third of its cargo is overboard.\n\nYou freeze, standing. Shell-shocked. Comprehension is slow to return, and when it does, it whispers simply: ruined. Where once safe and controlled in soothing white ceramic, it now oozes menacingly across the formerly pristine table. It drips off the edge, on to the chair, on to the floor. Vulgar.\n\nPanic begins to build. What do you do? What can you? You were not prepared for this. It was not supposed to be this way! Your book-bag hangs heavily off your shoulder, an impossible burden. You are a helpless child, on the verge of tears.\n\n“Hey there, let me wipe that up for you.” Suddenly he is there. Who is this coffeehouse angel? He is tall, with a gentle visage and soft hair. He works with efficient, carefree abandon, and then miraculously everything was as it was, as you imagined when you woke up this morning. And he is gone, almost before you can squeak some gratitude through the lump in your throat.\n\nThe day is yours again, and it means more to you than you ever thought possible. You collapse heavily on to the chair. It’s not even noon.\n",
"I woke up in great spirits. Perfectly rested, couldn't wait to get to work, the wife was already gone. The sun was out, birds were chirping, toast was crunchier. \n\nMy clothes looked perfect on me. I was perfectly comfortable in them. Not too warm, not too hot, so there was no sweating. \n\nI walked to work, enjoying the warmth of the early spring day. The sky looked like an impressionist paining. I looked at the familiar streets with new eyes. The old buildings look old and loved, like they just got out a story book. People's faces looked friendlier, happier. \n\nEvery meeting I had at work that day went flawlessly. My boss promised me a pay rise and some extra vacation days. \n\nOnce I got home, I went straight for the bathroom. Nothing like a hot bath and maybe a porno on the phone, maybe a wank, to perfectly close this perfect day. \n\nJust as I was browsing the web, looking for one of my favorites, 'Busty redheads going back to school XIV' I heard the doorbell. Once, twice, five times it rang before it stopped. Motherfucker. What kind of cocksucker keeps trying the doorbell when he sees no one answering? Must be the junkies next door. Who knows what they want. Maybe to rob me. Maybe they're trying to see if anyone's home so they can rob me in pace. Silence lasted only a couple seconds, then the ringing started again. \n\nI'll be damned if I open. \n\nIt eventually stopped, but my mood was ruined. I put some music and spread some lavender bath salts the wife had somewhere in a closet. \n\nWife got home. Now I want to get out even less. \n\nThe doorbell again. Voices. \n\nKnocking on the bathroom door. \n\n\"Honey? You're flooding the downstairs neighbors.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-042\n\n",
"*I'm not really a writer, but this really irks me. Huge wall of text warning* \n\nThere's always that one person in a college class that can drive you up the wall. Who knows how many of these types of people exist, but I'm sure I'm not the only one who suffers from this cruel punishment by sharing a class with this specific type of person. \n\nYou know which person I'm talking about. They're the one that is always asking dumb questions. People say there isn't such thing as a dumb question, but their questions continually prove the former false. Their questions will be barely relevant to the current topic at hand. And if the questions is answered, why that just prompts the person to ask yet another follow up question that is even more irrelevant than the first. It's the kind of questions where the teacher will eventually respond with, \"We want to stay on topic, so ask me after class.\" \n\nThis \"person\" is also the type to make comments continually through the lecture, often without any thought to raising their hand that proper classroom etiquette so often requires. They'll often make some odd joke aloud; loud enough for the teacher to believe they are asking a question, but not understand what was spoken. This leads to the person repeating the joke for the entire class to hear. The problem is, the joke is terrible and in bad taste, or a completely niche joke/meme reserved for the select few that would understand it. The few that understand the joke will mentally face palm, while the rest of the class remains in the awkward silence. \nAs if the following reasons were not annoying enough, fate would decide that their voice would be in permanent adolescence and constant nasal congestion. It is the type of voice you could recognize in a loud, crowded hallway. It's the kind of voice that makes your heart sink at the recognition of it. \n\nNo, the suffering isn't over yet. As it turns out, this person is irritating while silent as well. They constantly feel the need to stretch their arms. Not just any normal stretch, but a full \"lean back in chair while sighing and making as much of a distraction with your hands as humanly possible\" type of stretch. If chance so happens to sit you right behind this person, you are guaranteed stretched fists to invade your desk space. You'll be diligently writing notes, minding your own business, when suddenly there are two hands 3 inches from your face. You sit up and wait for the stretching ritual to subside. Sometimes you wonder if you should move your face forward, so their hands connect with your face. Perhaps that would stop them from over extending their boundaries, but you never test your theory.\n\nIf their hands are one thing, their feet are another. They are the person that is constantly bouncing and shaking their legs. That in itself is not annoying, as I myself enjoy a good leg bounce while thinking. The problem is their severe lack of self-awareness that their foot is hitting the zipper of their backpack, creating a loud tapping sound. At first, the noise bothers you, and you try to ignore it. Then it’s the only sound in the room you can hear. You want to go up to the person and say, \"hey can you stop kicking your backpack,\" but suddenly they stop shaking their foot. The noise subsides and you reason to yourself that they must have heard the annoying tapping noises they were generating. They had come to the realization that they were being a nuance to the classroom. You are relieved and continue to take notes. Then the tapping begins again and you question your sanity and the oblivious nature of the buffoon creating the sound.\n\nThis is my struggle. I encountered this person in a GE class several years ago, when I was just a freshman. By the end of the semester, you could visually see that the instructor was annoyed with this student. When the semester was over, I had forgotten all about the occurrence. I changed my major a few semesters later. \nThen one day, as I sat in a classroom, I heard it. I heard the voice. At first, I was perplexed by the strange familiarity of it. I could not figure why I knew that voice. I found it strange that the voice invoked such a strong feeling of apathy within me. Then I saw him. It was like looking into the past. He was virtually unchanged. The memories and nightmares rushed back into my mind within an instant. That’s when I learned he shared my major. I’ve been in a few more classes with him. Every so often, I ask fate what sin I have committed to warrant such a cruel punishment. My only solace is hoping there are other people out there who share my same sentence. \n",
"I can make it to work in about 8 minutes. I calculated that--It should take me 8 minutes. Never does though. It's that one god damn light.\n\nIt's the only light I ever stop at. I always make the other five. At 7:33 in the morning with a coffee in my right hand and Judas Priest's \"Painkiller\" purging my brain of all drowsiness, I have to slam on my brakes. Every. God. Damn. Day.\n\nAnd don't give me that, \"why don't you just wake up a few minutes earlier?\" garbage--I've tried. I tried 7:30. I tried 7:25. Fuck it, I've tried 7:00 AM--Doesn't fucking matter. That one traffic light is the bane of my existence. I swear to god, there's some asshat sitting at traffic control just waiting -probably with a coffee in his right hand- just WAITING for my little POS mercury sable to whip around the corner. \n\nEvery. God. Damn. Day.\n"
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if you could can you go into detail and have god start showing himself to people and telling them to knock their shit off, how about someone just saying are hallucinating and break down crying thinking they are crazy
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[WP] God has woken up from a centuries old nap and looks at the state of the world, and begins to speak with humans once more
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[
"“Sir! Sir!”\n\n“Eerghbfft. Whaaaat?” I had choked mid-snore. \n\n“Oh thank You for being awake! You have to see this Sir.”\n\n“What? Can’t you leave it to Jesus? Or Mary? Or one of the Twelve?” I growled. I always enjoyed my beauty sleep and hated being interrupted.\n\n“But, sir…” the angel hesitated, he hated interrupting God from his naps, and this one had been particularly short as well; only 2050 Earth years. “*Do I really need to tell him?*” he stared down at the fiery ball of mass that was once called Earth. “Umm, yes sir. I did try them all, but I couldn’t manage to wake them. Besides, I don’t think even they could fix *this*.”\n\nI looked at the scene below me. “What the fuck?” my beautiful Earth was no longer a lovely blue-green marble; instead, it had been replaced by a small, angry sun, with tiny devils fighting and hating. I groaned. Just over 2000 years and the people I had created in my image, had turned into this?! Seriously, come on! I had even sent down my son to help them. Although, given that outcome, perhaps I should have seen it coming… \n\n“You see Sir?” the angel anxiously awaited my reply.\n\n“Yes. You have been correct in awakening me, Xavier. You may now go. I shall have to fix this.”\n\nThe angel fluttered away, muttering something about being called “Sam”. I turned my attention to these monsters. I didn’t understand how I had gotten it wrong again! You’d think one flood would be enough, but no, apparently no one listened the first time. Still, I’m the kind of guy/girl that likes to forgive and forget, so I suppose it’s best to practise what you preach. Now, I just got to find some guy (or maybe girl, how knows about these days)…\n\n-043\n",
"\"What has happened?\", God asked himself, feeling nauseous as he looked down at the world. \"When did it happen?\" \n\nAll he knew that he had become tired all of a sudden. Not that it was much of a surprise, he had expected to be after bringing his son, Jesus, through Hell back to Earth and after that to Heaven. It was one of the most energy-consuming tasks he had done since creating the world. \n\nWhat he hadn't expected was the time he would be asleep. As he looked around, he saw his calender on the wall. \"Almost 2000 years have passed?\" he asked himself in disbelief. \"Was nobody able to wake me?\"\n\nAs he stood in the middle of his room, he heard footsteps on the stairs. Three Angels came tumbling in his room. While they were struggling to get up, entangled in each other, they looked at him with tears in their eyes, unable to utter a word because of pure emotion.\n\n\"Mylord...\" one of them finally said. \"You've woken up, at last.\" \"Yes, yes i have. Although i don't know what exactly I have woken up to. What has happened in the years I was sleeping. What could get the world in such a horrible state?\" \n\nThe Angels whispered among themselves, not quite sure what to say or do. \"Well Mylord, after you fell asleep, He Who Has Betrayed You kept quiet for a long time. But it seems he was preparing. Gathering devils. We tried to stop him! We really did!\" the Angel burst out crying. The other tried to comfort him, while one of them took over to explain. \n\n\"He had been secretly influencing humans for a long time, Mylord. And when we tried to drive the devils out of the poor humans, they would often try to fight us. We are ashamed to say this, but, there were too many. Even your son could not stop them the way you did.\" \n\n\"Is that so?\" God said after some time. \"Well, then I guess there's a lot to be done.\" As he walked to the stairs, he said:\"Luckily i have more energy than i have had in millenia.\"\n\n\nvery first prompt and one of first attempts at writing, criticism welcomed!"
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The situation is left intentionally ambiguous; it can be a positive or negative event.
Good luck!
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[WP] Something has happened on the ISS. From the position of any world leader affected by this situation, write an address discussing the issue as if it were to be delivered on national news at 8pm.
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[
"KCNA 2/12/2014\n\n**Kim Jong Un Destroys Imperialist Satellite, World Rejoices**\n\nSupreme Commander of the Korean People's Army Kim Jong Un, first secretary of the Workers' Party of Korea and first chairman of the National Defence Commission of the DPRK, has successfully launched a missile and destroyed the capitalist International Space Station. Our Supreme Leader's powerful missile hit has punched a hole into the weak and greedy psyche of the Western world and its imperialist puppets. Our missile's explosive illumination has enlightened the ignorant Western scum toward the power of Juche. \n\nThe Fearless Leader, Kim Jong Un, made a rare address to the nation yesterday, to announce the successful Juche missile strike.\n\n------------\n\n**TRANSCRIPT OF ADDRESS TO OUR GREAT AND POWERFUL JUCHE NATION** [ENGLISH TRANSLATION]\n\nComrades,\n\nI warmly congratulate our glorious military today on brilliantly implementing General Kim Jong Il's original instructions and demonstrating the incredible strength of our Korean nation to the world. It was in the benevolent spirit of Kim Il Sung's loving embrace that our Party has successfully destroyed the International Space Station and all of the western imperialists that were aboard it.\n\nThe American expansionist threats have been answered with the glow of our glorious rockets. The launch of the Kwangmeowangwan D-3 rocket was a result of our Party's foresight in preparing for threats with intelligence and science, and its successful detonation demonstrates to the world our Party's power and fortitude. We have thrust the red flag of victory upon the world with the success of our missile of Juche, and our armies will begin to march South with the protecting gaze of our great father, Kim Il Sung, who tested our own first automatic rifles on this historic day fifty years ago. Our Party will show that our scientific grandeur and intelligence will be a beacon of hope for the bleak Westerns who cower in fear at our benevolence and manufacturing success.\n\nOur Party will not stop here. Comrades, rise up! In the spirit of Juche, prepare for our great invasion! Our cause is just and our future is ours.\n\n[*transmission cut*]",
"*This is an emergency broadcast.*\n\nFellow Maltese, I have just been informed by the President of the United States that in 25 minutes, the International Space Station will impact our island. There will be an immediate evacuation. Get to the nearest port as soon as you can. We are working with nearby coast guards and navies to supply a constant stream of ships to all ports on Malta. Ships will leave as soon as they are full. Please tell anyone you see to evacuate. \n\nDo not stop for your belongings. Leave immediately with what you have on your person. We will rebuild. The lord will guard our motherland. Godspeed. \n\n*Evacuate immediately. Evacuate immediately. Evacuate immediately. The International Space Station will impact Malta in 21 minutes. Evacuate immediately...*\n"
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[Optional CW] Don't (explicitly) mention the fear.
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[WP] That fear doesn't seem so irrational now...
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[
"I took a deep breath, hunched my shoulders against the worst of the wind chill, and shuffled my feet hurriedly to my front door. Even though it was one of the coldest winters on record, my mind had failed to stress the immediate importance of a coat when I had left for work that afternoon. The wind howled behind me, and my fingers were stiff cycling through my keys for the right one to open my front door's deadbolt.\n\nI shivered, spasms of motion jolting my dexterity as I missed the keyhole a few times. With a few more second's effort, I got the key in the door, opened the lock, and pushed my way inside. The cold seemed to pounce behind me, rushing into the house like air into a vacuum, ripping Christmas cards off the decorative table and scattering empty envelopes onto the floor. I closed the door behind me, jumping at my own reflection in the glass of the front door.\n\nI sighed, shaking my head at myself, and exhaled shakily. My entire back felt like one giant cable, stretched from foot to forehead. I made an effort to roll my shoulder, hazarding a fleeting glance back out the window into the darkness outside. Nothing was there except my own reflection, eyes sunken from too much work and not enough sleep. I also needed to shave, although I wasn't sure that was the best idea at the time, given how cold my hands were.\n\nI caught sight of a specter looming as I turned inside. I shook my head, and walked to the kitchen. Two, maybe three of my lights were out in the house. I never bothered turning lights on most of the time. No big deal. I flicked the kitchen lights on anyway. Another specter danced in my peripheral as the light flashed on. I eyed the back yard, warily. Nothing there. Just my imagination.\n\nMidnight had rolled by sometime ago. One fifty-two blinked on the microwave face. I considered eating, but wasn't hungry. I grabbed a snack and ate it anyway. I turned off the light, walking away. Total darkness filled my imagination. Silence followed my footsteps. I counted paces to the stairs. Hardwood floors creaked as I climbed.\n\nSomething felt off. Caught myself counting down. A few more steps. Up the stairs. Stepping up. Almost there. Room's safe.\n\nThree...\n\nTwo...\n\nOne.\n\nI nearly screamed as I jolted around. My heart racing, but there was nothing in the dark. Just my empty house. My drink began sloshing violently enough to leave the cup, splashing on my hand and the floor. Christ... I forced myself to calm down, control my breathing. I took another breath, closing my eyes and steadying my breathing. When I blinked my eyes open, another image faded into the shadows of the hallway. I stared at it, perplexed. I never jumped at shadows like this. What the hell?\n\nI settled down in my room, changing and turning off the light. I laid my head on the pillow, yawned, and closed my eyes. Without warning, a rag crashed over my nose and mouth.\n\nA gray tunnel quickly filled my vision, and then nothing but darkness...",
"There once was a man who lived a life we wish we could. He was a man who smiled wide and laughed heartily, for all was great where others were, and there were others. There were friends and family aside him. Close friends and new friends, old friends and more. There were aunts and uncles wise and witty. There were children young and bold. And there was love, oh how romantic lustful love it was. And each day passed was better than the one before, for the simplest of things was made extraordinary when done with the right people, and he had all the right people, for he was never alone. \n \nYet, after many many years, the once happy and boastful man became old. His memories had begun to allude him, his body didn't move as it used to, and he spent his days sitting in his chair and staring at the grandfather clock. Tick-tock. As time eroded, the muscles in his face began to tighten. \n\"Oh, what a coward you have made of me,\" the man wept, as he stared at the grandfather clock. \n\"I was happy. I had people who I cared for, who cared for me, but you took them all away and left solely me. Left solely me,\" he murmured as his voice began to fade. \nNevertheless, the clock just kept ticking. Ticking, as if it were mocking him. Tick-tock. The man just sat on his chair and began to rock, back and forth, in rhythm with the clock. Tick-tock. It were as if he was waiting for something, as if the clock was counting down. Yet, it seemed his timer never went off for him, and he just sat there, staring at the clock, all alone, and waiting. Tick-tock. \n",
"\"Don't seem so irrational now does it, Jamie?\"\n\nHe pronounced the name in a sing-song, elongated fashion as he slumped semi-conscious against the wall. \n\nThere was a sharp scraping of bloody hair across the brick behind him as he twisted his neck, eyes greedily trying to take in all of the encroaching darkness. A nervous laugh tightened into a bubbling cough, dragging the faint smell of gunsmoke into his gasping lungs.\n\n\"Don't seem so fucking irrational now...\"",
"Growing up in my village, I hated the first true day of winter each year. I despised it. Other children would tease me about my disgust of the cold and the ice and snow. I would only play outside during those long dark months very grudgingly. Oh yes, the wintertime is one of beauty, but it is a harsh and cruel season, dangerous to those unprepared for its icy bite. If I had to suffer the worst of a Nelan summer or a Silathian winter, I'd take the scorching sun of the southern kingdom without thinking twice. The power of the blazing sun overhead would be far kinder than the terrible power of a western blizzard. Growing up, that was my nightly wish, *Spare me from the frozen wastes. Let me die with the warm sun on my face.* My parents tolerated my strange quirk. \n\nRight now, we are being hunted. 90,000 of us there are, trundling along. The sun had set three hours ago. It is only eight in the evening. The stars, shining down in the cloudless sky, bore down on us malevolently. Our bundled feet crunch through the icy layer and into the calf high snow. Scraps of cloth are wrapped around our hands and scarves around our heads. It is nearly -29 degrees and the biting wind tears through any and all attempts to stay warm. Everyone is freezing. All along the retreating mass, men cough doubled over. Typhus is rampant in the army, spread even father by the tendency to strip the dead of their meager winter clothes. My own clothes are falling apart, the once proud Verlander green with red facings having dulled from the long summer march. Not even four pairs of socks can keep the cold from aching my feet. My horse has seen better days. The meager grains and fodder is being stretched to the breaking point. Our mounts cannot live on thatching alone. But there's no food for them. There's hardly any food for us, just half frozen horsemeat and stale hardtack. Not much of that as it is. The tip of my nose is frostbitten. I'll likely lose a bit of it. But that is far from the most pressing issue. \n\nOff in the distance, they are watching us, hunting us. Cossacks. Their nimble ponies can subsist one anything. Any stragglers, they soon encircle and cut down. In some ways, they are a mercy, far better to die at their hands than being captured by the Silathians or to slowly die from the cold. Every so often, they try to break the line into smaller sections. We deploy small reaction forces to counter, but every minute spent fighting is one lost, and the winter is only growing worse.\n\nMy hatred of the ice and winter is justified I'd think. Shame none of my friends are still alive to hear I told them so. They all died of battle of disease weeks ago. Out of the twenty who enlisted from my village, I'm the last alive. I should have died sooner. I just might yet get my wish. But my heart is set. I do not want to die in this cold. I will desert. Anything is better than this. When we are under attack, or under a particularly fierce snowstorm, I'll flee south east, towards Tallenburg. To hell with my oaths. They died along with my comrades. I want to escape this frozen nightmare, whatever the cost.\n\n I, Marcus Weber, of the 5th Lancers, will desert. May the gods have mercy on an oath-breaker. ",
"I always thought there was a monster under my bed. Well, when I was young at least. It eventually evolved into a sort of OCD. I had to check under my bed, or I just didn't feel right, and couldn't get to sleep. I could think logically about it, and realize there was obviously nothing under my bed, but I still wouldn't be able to sleep until I checked. So I checked under my bed every night, well past the age most give up, and even well into college. I checked under my bed, but it never occurred to me that something might be hiding on the ceiling until I was wrapped in a blanket, and saw it hanging there."
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[WP] All of a sudden, Kim Jong-Un dies. Write about what happens to North Korea.
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[
"It was a normal day for Lee. He said good morning to his wife, who had already put his breakfast out on the table. He ate, put his coat on, and fastened his little red pin of solidarity onto his lapel. Lee descended the nine flights of stairs. The walk was tough on him, as he was getting older, but he knew what many Koreans would do to live in an apartment as tall as his. He waited 15 long years for it, and he was proud.\n\nLee's day became significantly less normal when he stepped out of his building, felt the draft, and saw 3 tanks turning the corner onto his street. Tanks were usually never on the streets unless there was a parade or there were some stories in the paper that were a bit more negative than usual. Since something was amiss, he decided to go to the bulletin board before heading to the factory. He had a quota meeting with the Premier of Synthetic Plastic Products at 9 that he couldn't miss, so he had to make it quick.\n\nHe quickened his pace before he saw something he had never seen before: a helicopter. It was old; it looked like something he saw in a documentary about the Soviets. It was heading toward the center of the city, and it was going pretty quick. A few others, who looked like college kids, were running as quickly as they could along with the helicopter. They had glass bottles in their hands. He thought about yelling out about how the Leader disapproves of reckless drinking and would scold them for such hedonistic ideals, but the impulse to follow soon overwhelmed that thought. Lee decided against getting his news from the bulletin. He wanted to go straight to the source.\n\nLee saw a fire in the distance, towards the river. The helicopters floated above it. The clanking of their turrets got louder with Lee's increasing urgency to know. Lee had always been curious. In his countryside home, he would sneak into all the cabinets and jump over all the fences. Once, he ran off from his mother at the food distribution facility, and he walked into a room with many men in large hats with many medals. They had a map that showed many buildings and many walls. It was called Camp 14. That was all Lee heard before one of the men in the hats grabbed him by his neck from under the table and gave him to his mother. He was angry, and said that Lee should not be allowed to explore anymore. That was all Lee remembered. His desire to learn more persisted throughout his school days, and the Career Selection Bureau noticed this. They made him Head Designer of Synthetic Plastics, and he spent his life coming up with schematics and designs for things like ballpoint pens and the polyester North Korean flags that fly on the desk of every teacher and bureaucrat. \n\nLee was downtown. There were thousands of people just like him, drawn to the fire and the smoke at the Palace of the Sun. He knew what the bottles were for now. However, there was nobody to fight against; the military was facilitating them, telling them which directions to move towards to surround the Palace. Lee worked his way to the front of the crowd. Eventually, one of the Jeeps drove up the stairs, and a low-ranking officer stepped out and addressed the audience with his bullhorn.\n\n\"People of Korea, I have something very important to say to you. It will be very different from anything that you have ever heard, but you must listen.\" The audience was stirring.\n\n\"The three men that we have called Great Leader for all of our lives have committed great crimes against us. They have taken money intended for the people and have kept it for themselves to buy great luxuries while many starve. The punishment for this crime is treason.\"\n\nThe audience was roaring with approval. They took off their red pins, and they threw them to the ground. The clinking and the crunching as the masses stepped over them to get closer to the great stage got louder and louder. Lee ripped his pin from his shirt, making a tear in his collar. He had never heard such invigorating words spoken. He threw his pin on the ground and mashed the heel of his boot into it until all that was left were red and gold crumbs.\n\nThe doors to the Palace of the Sun opened. It was the Leader himself, held by 2 other officers. The audience had for once opened their eyes to who he was, and there was no way to close them. There was screaming and crying in some, and there was genuine relief in others. Lee kept pushing forward to the front.\n\n\"The crime of treason is punishable by death. You, in the navy coat, will be our executioner.\"\n\nLee took the soldier's hand, and he took his gun. He was going to settle this. This man had taken his right to question, to explore, to simply live, and he was going to give him what he truly deserved. He raised his sights and placed his finger on the metal of the trigger.\n\nLee had one more question in him, though. One last question.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nA hush blew over the crowd. Un grimaced. He just wanted to meet his end; he did not want there to be complications in the journey.\n\n\"I'm not going to kill you until you answer.\"\n\nA few long seconds more passed until Kim snapped and finally gave his answer.\n\n\"I did it because it was the only thing I knew. It is who I am. I was told since I was a boy that I was among the chosen, and I remained the chosen until I met my death. The people will never understand what it is like to see people as numbers, as resources, and I understand that. I know that it is time for me to leave. I wish things could have ended better for us.\"\n\nLee was satisfied with this answer. He fired. Lee finally knew.",
"The resistance had succeeded. The few populated cities were in pandemonium. Clothing stores untouched for years, clothing out of style for 15 years stolen off the rack. Dust flying off every piece. \n\nThe pieces had fallen into place well. The leader had died, not very god like, in his bed. He had choked on poison, just enough to kill a man. Unlike his father he was arrogant. Unaware that around every corner was a man that sought justice and freedom. \n\nThe leaders of the rebellion had communications with the outside world. Guns and information smuggled across borders so heavily guarded that often dropping supplies in rivers and finding them down stream was the only means of exchange.\n\nThe next 48 hours are crucial. Rebels in the military have mobilized and taken all the surveillance towers of the capital. Now our future lies in the people. To shake free the shackles of obscurity and deception and welcome the world. \n\n-Dennis Rodman \n\n\n\n",
"\"The loss of skip Eve Muirhead is, of course, devasting news for Great Britain's medal hopes, but the team is optimistic that alternate Lauren Gray will be able to rise to the occasion. That will do it for tonight's Olympic coverage. We turn now to Lucy Williamson in Seoul, South Korea for the latest update on the situation in North Korea.\"\n\n\"Thank you Jon. Within the last hour we have received a statement from North Korea's senior military leadership that contrary to earlier reporting, that Kim Jong-un, recently deceased supreme leader of North Korea, committed suicide and did not die in a tragic 'jet ski in a bathtub' incident. The statement went on to say that business was continuing on as usual in North Korea. \n\n\"This is contradictory to reports that have come through from the refugees that have managed to get through the increased military presence along the demilitarised zone of mass suicides throughout the country. I spoke with one man who told me through an interpreter, quote, 'in my village, while I was leaving, many families were gathering together around their pictures of Kim Il-sung, Kim Jong-il, and Kim Jong-un. My neighbors told me, 'we do not want to live in a world without the Kim family to protect us.' I told them, 'no, you must come with me, we will go to South Korea, things will be better there.' I saw the blood pooling on the floor from outside their door.'\n\n\"There are many other stories like the one I have just related, Jon. In the meantime, the South Korean military has increased their presence along the border with North Korea, while the United States has moved a carrier group closer to the Korean Peninsula in what Washington has referred to as, 'an effort to maintain stability in the region.' Ultimately, tensions are mounting here Jon, and all sides are keeping watch to see if the powder keg long sitting here is ignited. For BBC One, I'm Lucy Williamson. Jon?\"",
"It just happened. \n\nI mean it is really hard to describe what it was like to watch your supreme leader, the person you were supposed to admire and remain obedient to, just die. \n\nI guess it was similar to watching a great mountain crumble like a house of cards for no explainable reason. Surely these things must have I dare say divine purpose right? I mean grand people can't just die like that..... can they?\n\nI suppose North Korea is better now without its totalitarianism, but did Jong-Un die for that? Aren't dictators supposed to die in a spectacular fashion like falling off a cliff from epic battle or getting stabbed by their own son forgotten years ago? \n\nI guess it would be better if I explained what happened. \n\nThere I was in the Rungrado May Day Stadium, preforming a dance with my peers for our supreme leader's entertainment. It was not a particularly important day, just as nice as any other in the week. Jong-Un was busy feasting in his special seating area when a bird, a pigeon most likely, shat on him. Just like that, it shat on him, we all saw the white stain on his suit. \n\nJong-Un was not in any way amused by this. He was screaming, trying to wipe it off with his hand. Officials and servants ran up to him all at once with handkerchiefs, one of the servant girls, a private mistress by the looks, accidentally shoved him a little too hard. \n\nHe fell. \n\nOff the balcony of his special area. \n\nThere was nothing to be done, nothing that could have been done. Jong-Un landed with a sickening crunch onto the field. From the brown stain emitted on his pants, we could tell the bird shit was not the only thing that was shat. \n\nOur Supreme Leader, the one who I worshiped in school, the one who could do no wrong, just got shat on by a bird, fell off the balcony and crapped himself on the way down. \n\nI started laughing, right there in the middle of the field, I started laughing. After a few minutes, more and more began to laugh too. The pure irony and unexpectedness of the situation was too much to bear. A whole stadium of North Koreans were laughing at the death of their leader. I knew right then that something had ended. ",
"The generals were waiting around in the parlor, worried silent faces filled the room, occasionally interjected by a dry cough. The highly decorated men had grown old indeed. Tonight they had been called to rise immediately. The superior leader's cold had rapidly aggravated over night. It was the crack of dawn, the dying time for mythical heroes and half-gods indeed, but that wasn't an allusion anyone would dare to think out aloud: Kim had not fathered any children yet. \n\nBesides, his killing spree throughout the ranks of his military had certainly strengthened his power - or so they thought - but the new hierarchy was still delicate for the moment... All the old men were probably weighting it up separately but what would their conclusions mean?\n\n\nThen the oldest one entered the room. He read the two lines, slowly, his voice sounded dull and fatigued.\n\n\"Your eternal leader commands you to go and die for our country, on the battlefields of glory, in a last thundering rise against the imperialist monsters! Tear their guts out and may Korea forever shine above all other nations, greater, brighter and forever unyielding!\"\n\n \n\n"
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Make it epic!
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[WP] - Last stand of a space cruiser/battleship/destroyer against overwhelming odds
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[
"\"FLEETCOM, this is the UNSC Terranova! We are outnumbered by Covenant forces 10-1! Do you read?\" The crewman was displeased, but not surprised to be returned with static. Their COMS were fucked beyond repair. He couldn't help, but try again. \"FLEETCOM, do you copy!?\"\n\n\"Save it Gary. They're not going to hear us,\" Captain Yull said calmly, slumped comfortably in his chair. Despite the bombardment of Plasma fire vibrating the deck, he maintained his attitude and posture. \n\nIt was a UNSC Marathon-class warship. It was supposed to be one of the best out in the UNSC Navy. Clearly, it wasn't designed to face 3 Covenant CAS-battle cruisers along with a mass of CCS and Frigates along its side. Out-manned and out-gunned. What are they going to do?\n\n\"Sir! Covenant just obliterated 1 out of 2 MAC guns!\"\n\n\"Then get that other one firing, damn it!\"\n\nEffective weaponry was just halved. Hope just skipped out the door. With no A.I., they were blind-firing. The warning vector just flashed. They were now being boarded. Just another kick in the stomach. With Covenant scurrying among the ship, they were running out of time. \n\n\"All units,\" announced Yull over the PA system, \"resist Covenant forces on decks C through E.\" There was a violent shake throughout the entire ship. The display revealed that decks D-2 through 13 was just blasted by a Plasma torpedo. Atmospheric leaks were occurring. Emergency airlocks shut, leaving anyone and *anything* unfortunate enough on the other side to the vacuum of space.\n\nYull flipped a series of switches. He had just released all 24 LongSword fighters to resist boarding parties. Just delaying their own demise. He looked through the hangar cameras. Two LongSwords were melted before they even took off. Covenant dropships were entering there too. There was another violent shake.\n\n\"MAC two is offline!\"\n\n*God damn it*, Yull said under his breath. He knew it was coming so there was no reason for him to be surprised. He sent out a command to launch out all 60 Archer Missile pods, blindly. From the observation windows, about 90% made futile hits against the ships. The rest entered the void of space. He looked back to the display cameras. On every room there were Marines being pushed back and slaughtered by Covenant forces. They were getting closer to the bridge. Yull couldn't let that happen. If they take control of this ship, they would learn weapon schematics, strategies, and most important of them all: Earth.\n\n\"Everyone,\" Yull firmly said causing everyone to look in attention. \"I'm initiating Cole Protocol.\" His gesture was responded with assuring actions. Everyone knew that's what had to happen. The main focus was the Dueterium fusion reactor. They began overloading it. \n\nA Spectre Elite had broken through the bridge doors. Marines on guard began unloading on the alien only to be slaughtered by the wielding Energy Sword. The Alien made its way to Yull to where it grabbed him by the torso and lifted him up. It closed its mandibles to compensate for a human jaw and spoke, \"You are filth, and you must be cleansed.\" It raised its blade to Yull's neck. Yull glanced at the display screen where it read: *OVERLOAD COMPLETE.* Yull added to the Elite's comment, \"You seem a little dirty yourself. Let me help.\" There was a flash. And the UNSC Terranova went out with a bang.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n*Bare with me, I'm a shit writer.*",
"The Captain of the Colonial Navy Vessel *Constellation* leaned against the bulkhead at his back. His shoulder resting on nearby staff terminal. A glass of what used to hold scotch was clutched in his hand. The large observation window in front of him painted an eerie picture in front of him. The burning carcasses of his fellow Colonial Naval brethren drifted gently in the expanse of interstellar space. He shook his head, and sighed. They had this coming. Not just their fleet, but humanity. When contact had been made with the Greys, it had been demanded that the humans don't colonize any farther into their star systems. We didn't listen. They took no time in cleaning up their property. Loss after loss pushed the colonization effort back, costing millions of lives in the process; and now here they were, the Colonial Defense Committee's sloppy retaliation attempt in complete vain. A young Ensign approached him from behind.\n\n\"Sir\" he began grimly \"What exactly should we do? They've boarded our ship, and comm is down.\"\n\nThe captain chuckled. He'd read books about the Spartans of Greece, and the Texans of the Alamo, and other such underdog stories, but like those before him, death was the common denominator of any potential action. He set the empty glass down.\n\n\"Well Ensign, what would your children, and grandchildren want to hear you've done at this very moment?\"\n\n\"Fight with all my heart sir.\"\n\n\"I'm sure. To be honest...\" he trailed off and tugged a cigar out of his pocket, and proceeded to light it. He grunted a brief apology, ran his hand through his thick silvering hair, then continued, \"...to be honest, it won't matter what we do, because we aren't getting out of here, you realize that.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\n\"We're putty in the hands of the enemy right now. No back up, no nothing. It's just us, the ol' *constellation* here, the enemy, and the expanse of our little known universe.\"\n\n\"Which enemy are you talking about captain, the Greys, or time. Both are working against us.\" He shook his head slowly, and slouched against the same bulkhead the captain was. \n\n\"Marvelous time to be a soldier isn't it!\" exclaimed the captain with a grin. He exhaled a copious about of cigar smoke whilst talking.\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"To get to fight, simply for the honor. Survival isn't granted, and victory sure isn't in the equation. But to fight, and die, simply to send a message. Well, I suppose the scriptures of time won't really take into account what we do today. But this is for us.\"\n\n\"I fear no death captain. I'll stand by your side in the face of a superior enemy.\"\n\n\"It's an honor ensign. But you know what? The scriptures of time sure won't give a flying fuck what the Grey's do today either. I say, we let them know that humanity is the pure-bred race. Leave our mark. Send them home to their leaders to be publicly SHAMED.\" Hate filled his voice. By now, a small group of the bridge crew had gathered around him. \"While they sit there, in their fancy, high-tech, superior engineered, bullshit starcraft, we'll show them that our natural toughness is unrivaled!\" He found himself yelling. The gathered bridge crew grinned. The captain glanced over at the bloated arms locker on the upper communication level of the bridge. \"Arm yourselves. Now. We'll make those motherfuckers wish they sat at home on whatever god-forsaken planet they came from today.\" \n\n\"Aye Aye.\" The surrounding crew saluted him. He saluted back, his chest swelled with pride.\n\n\"For Earth!\" One of the navigators cheered.\n\n\"For Earth.\" Muttered the captain under his breath.\n\nThe captain walked over to the communications terminal, and sent two messages. The first, a very vulgar, insulting, hate-filled address to the nearby enemy vessels. Just because it felt good. The next, was more somber. \n\n\"This is the CNV Constellation. By now our crew is gone, our hopes of victory have been laid to rest with our passed brethren. We have been brought to dire circumstances by a foreign enemy. Our brothers and sisters have spilled their blood today, for the mal-practice of ignorant Admirals, and for the honor of the human race. The evacuation vessels have escaped at our expense. We are the last alive, and we fight to make Earth proud. The enemy will buckle and feel the might of our ancient race before we kneel. I'm not a religious man, but for today, we are God's sword, and he will wield us proudly. Whoever is listening, we ask but one thing. Don't forget our sacrifice.\"\n\nHe walked to the main room of the cabin, and grabbed one of the standard-issue rifles sitting on the navigation table. The weight of it felt comforting in his hands. He slung a ballistics vest over his command attire, and paused. The hull of the ship groaned under the stress of decompression of the lower decks. The sound chilled him. He placed a short-range communicator in his ear and tested it. The other's nodded and thumbed-up to show it was working. This was it.\n\n\"Make peace with whoever you have to make peace with, because we're going into the belly of the beast with one goal, to kill these murderous bastards. As honorably as possible. Remember, war is still a gentleman's sport, if we had tuxedos I'd say we throw them on and put the fuckers down in style, but a tailor isn't part of the CN enlistment options. \"\n\nA light rolling laugh swept through the now combat ready group.\n\n\"Ensign, check to make sure pressure is regular outside the cabin.\"\n\n\"Aye, it's green sir.\"\n\n\"Then we have no need to wait.\"\n\nSeveral minutes passed. His emotions ran numb. He thought of his family and wife to find comfort. Then slapped a fresh clip into the rifle. It's been years since he's done that. \n\n\"We exit on my go. Stack up.\" They lined up against the bulkheads on either side of the blast door. Silence engulfed the room. The dull rhythmic hum of the computers and the ship's dying engine swirled in his ears. A minute passed, as everyone got prepared to breach. The weak sound of the engine vanished. No thrust, they were simply drifting in the abyss, much like their fate. He tapped the lock release. The door quickly slid open and the team spilled out into the hallway. He exhaled quickly and brought the rifle up to bear. The hallway was dim and the lights were out. The emergency power had kicked in and a single light shone on the hall. His vision was slow to adjust and all he saw was darkness. A burst of fire from one of the men behind him hit something in the dark. A loud shriek echoed through the corridor and the corpse of a boarder fell into the pool of light. It's sleek charcoal black environmental suit was cracked in the chest, and a dark purple blood oozed out of it. Another shot rang out and another one of the creatures dropped. The Captain smiled.\n\n\"C'mon! There's more where that came from!\" balked one of the navigators.\n\n\"Let's move!\" They moved methodically forward as a group, eager to avenge more of their brethren. They approached the dead end of the hall, sweeping through the crew-quarters and meeting rooms to be sure no tangos were missed. One shot came from the third room down the hall, and a faint \"YEAH MOTHERFUCKER!!\" behind the closed door was emitted by 1st mate Andrews. They kept pushing forward, and as they rounded the corner, a large group of the grey's confronted them. A distance of twenty yards separated the two groups. The emergency light illuminated the enemy group. Their weapons lowered, yet they stood ready. The Captain counted twelve. His blood burned. There was an awkward pause, nobody fired, nobody moved. Then one of the enemy took off their bug-like helmets. It's face gray. No hair, seamless smooth skin. It had large black piercing eyes,and it's nostrils were flaring the muscles under it's prominent brow twitched. It took a step towards the crew, cocked its head, then it spoke in perfect English.\n\n\"Your kind has started a violence far beyond your comprehension. This is only the beginning, and we are not the only ones observing your kind. The ideal species will seek nothing short of complete slaughter when they engage your arrogant race.\" It's deep voice sounded like it had gravel in it's voice box. The Captain calmly responded.\n\n\"Whatever the fuck happens, you're not going to be there to see it you gray skinned bastard\".\n\n\"Confidence born of ignorance. You will never understand. Time, endless. Your actions, meaningless.\" The other eleven Greys widened their stances, preparing to act.\n\n\"Well, oh well, whatcha gunna do!\" The captain dove to his right behind one of the braces on the edge of the hall, near the bulkhead. He rolled a primed grenade into the group and curled into the fetal position. A loud WHUMP and a flash of light made his ears ring.",
"The mission of the SDF-1 New Yorker super-class submarine is a disaster. All attempts at neutralizing the “worm hole” have met with resistance from the creatures emerging from the Hole. Our theories of their intelligence are incorrect. The creatures communicate, organize, and counter our attacks using their superior size, numbers, and aquatic abilities. For every creature we destroy, hundreds more emerge. \n\n\nThe stealth sonar probe (SSP) traversed the Hole and transmitted before being destroyed. We believe the creatures allowed the SSP pass to use as a demoralization tool. It showed that the primary target is expanding the circumference of the Hole to fit the rest of its body. The “tentacle”, as the crewmen refer to it, is figuratively the “finger” of a colossal behemoth of proportions unknown. \n\n\nCrew morale has declined to the point of mutiny. Many have fallen sick with crippling anxiety, insomnia, and insanity. Crewmen have committed suicide and have hurt others. They have been quarantined to their rooms and bound. The Captain was relieved of duty after attempting to sabotage our nuclear reactor. He screamed of having his thoughts manipulated and hearing voices like the others.\n\n\nAfter much consideration, as acting Captain of the SDF-1, I have acknowledged the only solution for the preservation of mankind is a suicide mission. We will traverse the Hole and detonate our nuclear weapons payload. The remaining crewmen question my decision but I will not alter my orders. They are corrupted but I am certain that I am of sound mind and body. I am making the correct decision, for certain. \n",
"The fight had begun hours ago, when we were a full battlegroup rather than a single lightly damaged battlecruiser, and a crippled frigate. Tensions had been rising between the Confederation and the Union, and we had been on exercises near the border, though still in Confed territory. It had been meant as a show of preparation, to let the Union know that we were not to be bullied into conceding anything. A single jump from the border, we were in an optimal position to quickly respond to any incursion. We hadn't been expecting the incursion to come to us.\n\nWe were a full strength battlegroup, but they'd come with an armada. We were far enough from their entry point to avoid immediate annihilation, but they wasted no time. Admiral Green led us into a running fight, running to get into a position far enough from the star to allow a jump, we had to warn Confed HQ about this. Unfortunately, Green died with the *Dauntless*, buying us a little more time, but they were closing again. Their screening elements were advancing along the edge of our engagement envelope and would match our speed in an hour or two. The battlecruiser *Furious* was three hours from safe jump range, and we had no offensive capability remaining. We had some point defenses, minimal shielding, and our engines were so badly damaged we could barely out-accelerate *Furious*. We did, however, have a fully operational jump-drive. *Furious* needed three hours to the jump point, we needed two.\n\nThe *Furious*'s captain, a tall, hard woman who'd been Admiral Green's strategic second informed us of her plan. She and the *Furious* would delay the enemy as long as possible, it was our job to get out, and get a warning to Confed HQ. She transmitted the last load of outbound mail from her ship, and wished us the best of luck.\n\nThe Union armada's screening elements tried to come in for us, but they came too close to *Furious*, her missile barrages took down two destroyers before the others retreated back out to a safe distance and continued to try to outrun us, as long as they didn't score a lucky hit on us, they wouldn't be able to stop us here.\n\nAs long as I live I will never forget what I saw in those hours. *Furious* was like a demon, maneuvering enemy missiles into worst-case approaches, staying out of range of energy weapons, she looked like she was dancing among the lights. Those titanic destructive energies seemed to exist only to give her a stage to play on, and missile after missile went wide, was fooled, or was shot down. Meanwhile *Furious*'s own barrages claimed hit after hit. The deceptive efforts of the Union armada seemed useless against her claws. She took down four cruisers, three more destroyers that made mad lunges for us, and disabled two battlecruisers in that run.\n\nThe first missile that squarely connected with her was a brutal one, our sensors saw the atmosphere stream, and saw her acceleration drop by thirty percent. Then the enemies came too swiftly even for her. She twisted like mad, abandoning any pretense of escape, and lashed out with all the power she had left, but succeeded in doing little more than blinding sensors. That was her intent, of course. The entire run up to that point the *Furious* had been jettisoning escape pods, and now we saw why. She overloaded her power plant. There weren't many ships close enough to take direct damage from the explosion, but it was so maddeningly bright, releasing so much radiation, it blinded every nearby ship that was not prepared for it.\n\nThat is how *Furious* died. Delaying an entire Union armada long enough for a lamed frigate to make it to the nearest Confed outpost and deliver our warning. Because of that ship and her crew, a surprise attack was prevented and uncountable lives were saved.",
"Do you remember where you were when it came?\n\nI was in my office when I heard the noise. A terrible screeching followed by a wave that shattered glass and shook every building in the city. All across the city people heard the noise far above their heads, and thus their curious minds compelled them to look for the source. We certainly found what we were looking for, but not a single person liked what they saw.\n\nIn our atmosphere there were well over a dozen.... spaceships. They looked like something straight out of some nerdy sci-fi movie. They were monstrosities of metal, dark gleaming skin forged to create the humongous beasts of war we saw before us. Each of them were huge, but one dwarfed all others. It was at the center of their formation, this...capital ship. I hesitate to even call it a ship, it seemed to me to be a flying metal island. It's intimidating metal hull seemed to go on forever, stretching far above us into the horizon. Cameras were being taken out all over town, each person determined to record this historic moment. It was actually because of all the pictures being taken that we can determine the exact moment they opened fire on us.\n\nThe ships turned their noses down towards the city, aiming their thousands of guns toward our helpless, pitiless species. Then they unleashed the fury of the gods. The first volley destroyed the entirety of the docks and the boardwalk, along with most the west side. The second volley obliterated downtown. I remember cowering under my desk, praying to every god I knew to please let this nightmare end. It seems the gods decided to answer me for once.\n\nRight after the last of the second volley had hit their marks, there was once again a terrible screeching. I looked out my now destroyed window in horror, expecting the worst. Instead what I saw stunned me. Out of a rift in the sky came a magnificent pure white ship, bigger than even the capital ship of the enemies. It came out of the rift guns a-blazing, charging right for the enemy formation. Out of it poured our salvation. Thousands of missiles fired out across the sky, striking at the enemy ships, destroying half-dozen in one go. I remember standing up wordlessly, mouth agape, as I saw the brilliant explosions decorate our sky. After that it is a bit of a blur. I remember seeing hundreds of smaller ships blazing across the sky, I remember when the white ship leaped in front of the third volley, saving the lives of every person left in the city. And of course, I remember the end.\n\nThe white ship was no longer gleaming, no longer pure, no longer invincible. The white ship had so many holes in it, it barely looked like it could fly, let alone fight. Yet fight it did. While the white ship was dying, the enemies still had three of their ships left, one of which was their dreaded capital ship. The fate of my world hung in the balance, yet all I could do was stare dumbfounded at the sky. I am glad I at least had the sense to stare, otherwise I would have missed it. The last charge.\n\nThe white ship charged one last time at the enemy. It fired every last thing it had, tearing through one of the last enemy ships. They of course fired back, tearing into the white ship's glorious hull. Their shots ravaged the white ship, but it charged unfazed. It got within spitting distance of the capital ship before a massive shot from the capital ship's main cannon disabled it. All I remember is the despair I felt those few brief seconds it hung in the air, dead along with any hope for my planet. Then I heard the awful screeching one last time. \n\nA rift opened up in the middle of the white ship cutting it in half, it's front half falling down into the sea. But no one saw that. Everyone's gaze was up, for the rift continued to expand until it stretched across the sky. It consumed the last two enemy ships in a blaze of fire, saving my world, before collapsing in a thunderous boom.\n\nIt's been ten years since that day, and we still continue to rebuild. Our species has grown immensely in the past decade, using the salvaged technology to build our own starships and colonize worlds in our system. Building resources to one day strike back at our despised enemies. Their doom is coming, and we will be sure to help them along the way.\n\nAnd what of our saviors you may ask? It has been ten years and we have studied every scrap of metal from their ships we could find. The eggheads think they have figured out their language. In fact, they just translated the ship's name.\n\n*USS Thermopylae* "
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Lengthy title
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[WP] Married couple decides to have a child, followed by a check-up it seems the wife is infertile. So they raise a cat, only to realize they'll never see it grow up like a kid
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[
"\"Mr. and Mrs. Smart? I have sobering news. Linda... you have Type 64 diabetes. So, you cannot give birth to children.\"\n\n\"What?! Can I give birth to cats?\"\n\n\"I don't see why not.\"\n\n\"Thank you, doctor.\"\n\n\"I'm not a doctor. I sell subscriptions to the Seattle Post-Gazette.\"\n\n\"Anyway, we should really be going. I mean, they have news on internets now.\"\n\n\"Hold on... Can she eat sugar? Is she going to die without a daily insulin shot?\"\n\n\"You'll have to read Friday's health column.\"\n\n\"God damn these hard sells.\"\n\n\n\n**Later that year.**\n\n\"Ok push... push... almost there... congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Smart! It's a male calico. They're very rare. Klein Felter syndrome.\"\n\n\"Thank you, d... I mean...\"\n\n\"It's Kevin. I live next door and I was wondering if maybe you need your lawn mowed on a weekly basis?\"\n\n\"Not really but any time she's in labor we'll definitely call you.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Mr. S!\"\n\n\n\n**The next winter.**\n\n\"Meow. Meow.\"\n\n\"You know what, Linda.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"A real kid wouldn't meow.\"\n\n\"What the fuck is your point?\"\n\n\"Nothing, just... I don't know. Nothing.\"\n\n\n\n**Five years later.**\n\n\"YOUR TIME IS UP. PENCILS DOWN, UNDERSTAND? I WILL FLIP THIS SWITCH AND KILL EVERYONE HERE IF I SEE ONE MORE SCRIBBLE ABOUT BRUCE WAYNE AND KANTIANISM. YOU THERE IN THE BACK. BIG MISTAKE.\"\n\nXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\n\n\"Hey Linda, did you hear there was a school shooting or something like that?\"\n\n\"Yeah honey... that 'AP Batman As Literature' teacher went looney and blew the place sky high. There's student guts everywhere. I don't think the town is going to recover from something like this in a hundred years. So many innocent youths. Gone. And for what, I ask you. For what.\"\n\n\"Not our little guy though, I mean... he's a cat.\"\n\n\"Meow.\"",
"It'd started with such excitement and joy. We'd had our wedding night, our honeymoon and then every night at home. This time was different, though - this time, when I turned the lights off, there was an electricity in the air. I could barely see anything, but I knew she was smiling, and we enjoyed every minute of it.\n\n\n\nWe started checking next week. I can't pinpoint when, but I think her smile faded a little three weeks from then. I'd held her and said, \"This is only three weeks in. Couples have tried for months before having a baby!\" The smile touched her face again, but unlike what I'd said, it wasn't three months, six months or even a year.\n\n\n\nFinally, we went to the doctor. He brought back the paper with a sad smile. Eliza couldn't take it, and burst into tears before he even said a single word - that was when I knew as well.\n\n\n\nThe doctor suggested to me when Eliza had gone to get a cat, saying it works like therapy for most couples, before eventual adoption of a child if they like. I didn't really know much better, so off I went to the pet store while my wife slept away her worries at home. I picked the smallest, cutest kitten I could find - a white one with small, brown stripes.\n\n\n\nIt was fine on the way home, and even Eliza started smiling when I pulled it out of my hands. But it was as I was sitting there, watching my wife with a sad smile and the kitten racing around playing with the carpet that I knew it'd never be the same for her.\n\n",
"You reassure your wife by placing your hand on her shoulder as her tears uncontrollably stream down her face, leaving dark stains on the paper.\n\n\n*Dear Mrs. Smith,*\n\n*Our diagnosis shows that you have stage 4 endometriosis. As a result, your screening concludes that you are infertile. We have many options for adoption available as well as therapy. This current gynecological condition is untreatable at the moment.*\n\n\nShe cursed herself. She cursed her God. She cursed the world... Days pass and you notice your wife becomes increasingly quiet. You try to cheer up by cooking dinner, cleaning the house, even buying her that really expensive wine she always wanted. Yet nothing changed. That dead empty look remained in her eyes as you realize the wife you once loved was no longer there.\n\n\nThen one day you come home to the sound of purring and a smile that greets you at the door. In your wife's arms holds a kitten. Recently adopted, her innocent eyes and frail body can melt anybody's heart. You could hardly remember the last time you saw a genuine smile from your wife. It's going to be just fine you tell yourself. Besides, raising a cat is pretty much the same as raising a kid but maybe not as much responsibility. \n\nYears go by. You and your wife flip through a photo book. The fireplace crackles as you pour yourself another cup of wine. The kitten has grown, now three years old, and pounces on various objects strewn across the room. Your wife points out a photo. \n\n*This one is the first time she responded to her name! Look John!*\n\nShe tries to explain to you the significance of this photo. Of that photo. You merely nod and smile, intoxicated by the spirits, you shrug off the fact that the book was entirely filled with photos of the cat, meaningless as the next. But you see your wife is happy, so you are happy.\n\nIt was only time you realize that raising a cat is not raising a kid. Your wife doesn't realize it. Trapped within her own fantasy, you can't help but support your wife and her endeavor to anthropomorphize the cat to a kid she never could have. Your wife insists she takes the cat everywhere in a stroller. She insists she hand-feeds it breast milk. She insists that diapers are necessary, that litter boxes are cruel...\n\nNobody could have even seen this coming you tell yourself. The cat had somehow gotten outside of the house. Maybe it was chasing a squirrel. Maybe a bird... The truck that hit it didn't even stop to turn back.\n\nYou come home from work expecting to hear the sound of purring and the joyful welcome from your wife. You hear nothing. Where's the cat you think to yourself. You head upstairs. You announce your presence. *Honey, I'm home. Where's the cat?* You open the door to the bedroom, creaking ever so slightly as it goes. You reel back in horror as you fall to your knees.\n\nEDIT: Go easy on me! Never wrote a WP and I figured the only way to get better is to try! \n\n"
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[WP] The theft of a small item through a series of seemingly unrelated small events causes the character's death, but Death stole it in the first place.
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"*What I'm going to tell you is the absolute truth. No matter how far fetched you think a component of the story is, know it is absolutely true and happened exactly as I've set it forth in this letter.*\n\n*I died on July 5, 1974. It was from an overdose. I was dead for one minute thirty-six seconds. It was just long enough for someone to steal my most prized possession. Gracie and Thomas Kincaid were the two free spirits I was partying with when I had the overdose. They saved my life. Thomas worked for the hospital as a nurse at the time. They told me who the thief was. It was Death. He came to collect me, but my friends saved me first. Death took the item off my corpse. When they brought me back, he vanished with the ring. This is the story of how I got it back.*\n\n*Death isn't some villan out there chasing down souls for the devil. Death is a man. An ordinary looking man, and I found him. I know it's him, because I found my ring on his finger. He worked in a lab. He had body guards. I tried to take it by main force and spent three months in jail for my efforts. I tried using cut outs to filch the ring. The morgue was filling up pretty fast. And then, I read I got smart.*\n\n*Death was a man. I spied on him. I followed him. I stalked him. He acted just like a man. He got spagetti sauce on his tie like a regular man. He stepped in puddles by accident like a regular man. He took my ring off when he wore gloves in the lab like a regular man. It's amazing what a man can do when motivated properly.* \n\n*The key to a great theft, is misdirection. The key to getting honest people to help you steal an item, is not to let them know they're helping you steal the item. There were three other people who worked in the lab with the man pretending he wasn't Death. They all had bills and after meeting them one at a time, I was happy to find that they each had no problem bending a rule here and there so long as it wasn't illegal.*\n\n*The first thing I needed was a picture of Death in the lab, so I could see the layout. Sam was the girl I went to for that. She thought the photos were for my blog. Just generic pictures I could use on the page. I showed her the blog, and she agreed to bend the rules for a hundred dollars. I now had the layout of the lab and a location for the ring. Death set it in a tray on a cart beside his work station.*\n\n*I used Tony to move the cart. I paid him fifty dollars to help me set up a practical joke for Sam. I claimed to be an old friend of hers from college. I told him that the one thing Sam hated more pickles on her hamburgers was to be embarrassed. I told him I'd hired a Strip-o-gram to show up at the lab. I told him the guy needed a certain amount of space in which to dance. I asked him to move the cart to the other end of Death's workstation and to move several other items out of the way.*\n\n*For fifty dollars, he was eager to help. Chuck was my go to go though. Using Tony's preparations as a pretense, I convinced was able to bribe Chuck to roll the cart out into the hall. I told him it was for Death's birthday party. Though, I used Death's alias of Rudolph. Rudolph Ichabod Pachinko was a joke I guess. Maybe I was the only one who got it. Chuck performed his part perfectly. I let him know not to let Rudolph in on what he was doing. The party was supposed to be a surprise.*\n\n*Sam agreed to bring the cart to the break room so I could put the cake on it and all the refreshments. The plan was for us to push the cart with the cake into the lab and start singing happy birthday. I pocketed the ring after setting down the cake. She didn't know. She seemed eager to help. I told her I forgot something in the break room and left before she entered the lab. I don't know if Death was confused, furious, or what. I didn't stick around to find out. There was probably a lot of confusion between the lab techs over what they'd been made a part of, but the reality was, it was my ring and I finally had it back.*\n\n*I had a heart attack that night in the restaurant. It was Sepetember 19, 1985. I had died again for one minute, fifteen seconds. When I came to in the hospital. My ring was gone again. Only this time, Death was waiting beside my bed with the ring upon his finger. He was not happy.*\n\n\"It ends now, Cartaphilius.\" Death told him severly. \"She paid it to me to carry her across the Styx.\" Death said.\n\n\"It is mine.\" The cursed shoemaker spat. \"I was cursed to walk for eternity. She was still my wife. It was hers and therefore mine.\" He snapped, trying to lift himself out of bed. Death laid his hand upon the man's chest and Cartaphilius began to spasm and die again, shaking his head in denial while crying out in pain at the feel of Death's touch.\n\nCartaphilius was dead this time for three minutes sixty seconds. Death was still waiting for him. \"It was the silver she paid to cross the river. It is mine. I may not be able to kill you because of the curse, but I can cause you pain. Forget about the ring.\" Cartaphilius tried to lift himself from bed and grab for the ring. Death held his hand for twenty minutes this time. The cursed shoemaker screamed the entire time, but even after, he still went for the ring.\n\n\"I've been walking since he carried his cross and cursed me. I'll walk till the end of days. I will be coming for that ring.\" Cartaphilius promised, too weak from the pain to try for it again.\n\n\"Then come.\" Death told him. \"I can't kill you, but I can make you wish you were dead.\" Death turned away then and vanished. The shoemaker went to work on his next plan to steal the ring. It had been thus for as long as he could remember. Him stealing the ring and Death coming to reclaim it. The shoemaker just hoped that someday, Death would get angry enough to find away to really kill him. It was what Cartaphilius really wanted. He just wanted to die.",
"“Damn it,” Steve says, “Where is my tie?”\n\n“I don’t know honey. Is it in the laundry?” Carolyn asks.\n\n“No, I already checked there.”\n\n“Can you go without one?” \n\n“No, it’s a company policy.”\n\n“Don’t you have any spares?”\n\n“This was the spare, the other went missing last week.”\n\n“Strange,” Carolyn says. “Well you should just buy a new one. You’ve haven’t got a new one in a while.”\n\n“Okay, I guess it is the only option,” Steve replied as he got the keys. “Bye, Honey.”\n\n“Bye”\n\n“She was right it is strange,” he thought as he started the car. “What a coincidence that both of my ties go missing within a week.” He begins to think if anything else weird had been happening recently. But quickly seemingly more important things distracted him, like the new business plan. He better not get to work late, the plan involves laying off some of the staff.\n\nEventually, he arrives at the tie store. He goes in and starts browsing the ties, unable to choose he goes up to the store manager.\n\n“Excuse me,” He asks. “What tie should I get, I lost mine?”\n\n“The beige is very popular among businessmen,” the store clerk says. “We have a buy one get half off deal.”\n\n“Nah, just the one,” He replies. “Actually I would like two, just in case.” \n\nThe clerk comes back with two beige ties. Steve then pays, puts on one of the beige ties. Steve then realizes that to make it to work on time, he will have to take the train. Steve buys a train ticket, and then sits on a bench next to another man.\n\n“How’s your day going so far?” asked the strange man.\n\n“Fine, but I lost my tie,” replied Steve.\n\n“Well then, why are you wearing one?” Implored the stranger.\n\n“Company policy,” Steve said.\n\n“Do you have backup?” asked the man.\n\n“Yes,” Steve says as he pulls out other tie. “Why do you ask?”\n\n“You will be needing it,” The man says as he hands a briefcase to Steve, then runs away. \n\n“But, wait,” Steve says as he begins chasing after the stranger.\n\nThe man darts into an alley and Steve follows, the man then turns around and says, “You aren’t him are you,”\n\n“No I am not,” replies Steve. “You can have this back,” he continues holding out the brief case.\n\n“No, you’ve seen too much.” The man says while pulling a gun out of his suit.\n\n“Who is this man?” asks a new stranger who must have been stalking them.\n\nSteve is very confused for a second but then notices something peculiar. He knows this stranger; he invited him into his house a few days ago for charity. That was the day his first tie went missing, he was even wearing it right now!\n\n“Doesn’t matter he’s dead now anyway,” the first man says. “He’s seen to much, neither of us knows him.”\n\n“You got one thing right,” the Stranger replied. “He has seen to much.” \n\nWhat happened next, happened fast the Stranger, shot the man. In light of this event Steve decided to run. Unfortunately the man, who stole his tie, would not let him get away with the briefcase.\n\nSo Steve was no more.\n",
"The dime rolled off the counter, onto the tile floor and under a nearby table, clinking against the metal post. Steve dove under the table and began frantically searching the floor for the coin.\n\n“Oh, come *on*. It couldn’t have gone anywhere. Where is it?”\n\nDeath, floated above the table, invisibly rubbing his hands together with glee as he watched the rounded seat of Dave’s trousers bobbing in and out under the table. Death twirled the coin in his hand, grinning widely. This was going to be a good one. \n\nDave clambered out from under the table and made his way back to the counter.\n\n“Look. It’s just a dime. I know that means I don’t exactly have enough, but who’s going to care about a dime, right?”\n\nThe pimply teen behind the counter lifted an eyebrow.\n\n“You seem to care a lot about that dime.”\n\nDave began to sweat.\n\n“But I come in here every day, and I always have exact change.”\nThe cashier moved the coffee out of Dave’s reach.\n“Exactly. You’re always in a hurry, always rude, and never tip. No sale. Next, please.”\nA frumpy woman pushed Dave out of the way to get to the counter. Dave’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he ran his fingers against his collar. His tie suddenly seemed too tight. He dropped back to his knees and resumed his search under the table. \n\n“It has to be here. It just has to.”\n\nDeath would have licked his lips if he had them. Instead he cracked his boney knuckles, stretching them out. He loved it when bad men squirmed.\n\n“Oh, shit,” Dave said, suddenly realizing the time. He ran out of the shop, pushing past the frumpy woman. Death watched him go, then snapped his fingers and poofed out of the room. The cashier looked up just in time to see the dime fall onto the table.\n\nDave slapped the sweat from his forehead with the back of one hand as he ran toward the office. Without his morning caffeine, he felt sluggish, off his game. That cashier would pay. If karma didn’t get him, Dave would make sure his manager knew exactly what his employee had cost him.\n\nDeath, sitting on a concrete bench, shook his head. *He really doesn’t see the irony there? I don’t think he really understands irony.*\n\nRunning toward the door, Dave didn’t notice the little dog run out in front of him. He tripped on the leash and fell face first onto the concrete sidewalk. The woman at the other end of the leash was knocked to the ground beside him. She tugged on the leash and pulled the canine back toward her.\n\n“Are you okay?” she asked Dave.\n\nHe batted her hand away, his face red and his nostrils flared.\n\n“Watch where you’re going with that thing, lady. This is a place of business, not a dog park.” He stood up, brushing dirt from his suit. He cursed and pointed a menacing finger at the woman, still kneeling. \n“You’re lucky I’m late, or I would sue you and your mutt for my dry cleaning bill.”\n\nDave pulled open the glass door to the office building and stalked through the lobby. The security guard stopped him at the door.\n\n“Sir, I’m going to need to see your badge.” Dave began patting his pockets and searching his briefcase. \n\nA man Dave vaguely recognized walked by and flashed his badge at the guard.\n\n“Good morning, Anthony,” he said.\n\n“Good morning, Mr. Jones,” the guard replied. “How did the game go?”\nMr. Jones grinned. Dave pushed his hands into fists and locked them at his side. He began shaking, glaring at Anthony. The guard was busy interacting with Mr. Jones. \n\n“Complete shut out. Danny was so proud.”\n\nThe both smiled, and Mr. Jones went through the gate. A stoic mask fell over Anthony’s face as he turned back to Dave.\n\n“Look, man, I don’t have it, but you know me. I come in here every day.”\n\n“I don’t know you, *man*,” Anthony said, looking Dave up and down, taking in his dirt covered shirt, haggard appearance and scuffed knees.\n“Look, I’ve got a big meeting with Mr. Kramer today. If I’m not there, they’re going to kill me. You have to let me in.”\n\n“Not without a badge.”\n\nDave spun around, seeing red. He started to storm out of the building when he tripped right over Death’s invisible legs. Death would have rolled his eyes if he had eyes. Instead, his vision just circled to the ceiling and back down. No one liked Dave much, did they?\n\nDave threw open the glass door and began retracing his steps. Not watching where he was going, he charged ahead, knocking people to the left and right. One woman was talking on a cell phone, holding a cup of coffee.\n\n“Yeah, there was just this change on the table, so I figured, why not go ahead and splurge,” she was saying, but Dave didn’t hear her. Death leaned on a tree trunk.\n\n*Should have listened, Dave,* he thought.\n\nDave slammed into the woman’s shoulder. Startled, she dropped the cup. The lid came off, covering Dave in hot coffee. He stumbled backward and tripped off the curb, landing on his back. Death watched idly from the sidewalk.\n\n*Last chance, Dave* he thought. Dave didn’t listen. He stormed forward, yelling at the woman. He leaned into her face, screaming, taking out all his frustration on a woman he’d never met. \n\n“I’m going to sue you for everything you ow—“\n\nHe never finished the sentence. A planter – Dave’s own, accidentally knocked off the balcony by his replacement – crashed down upon his head, splattering dirt and brains into the pavement. Death brushed his fingers against his robe and moved in, whistling.\n\n*Well that came together rather nicely, didn’t it?”\n\n---\n-048\n"
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[WP] "Why the hell aren't you in the basement!?"
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"\"Why the hell aren't you in the basement!?\",screamed Toby,\"We don't have much time left,dammit!\".He was standing in the kitchen entrance all sweaty and gasping for breath.\"I'm looking for something.\" Lisa uttered while frantically tearing open drawers and cupboards, ransacking their contents and thereby scattering things all over the kitchen floor.\n\"We don't have time for this!\" he urged.\n\"Got it.This will help us!\" She snatched a small object from a shelf and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans.\nIt seemed to Toby like that object gleamed for a moment ,like someone had pointed a laser pointer right into his eyes.On the other hand he might just be hallucinating.He wouldn't be too surprised if that were the case,after all they had gone through.\nMaybe he was turning insane after all but that didn't matter anymore because soon they would have left their old lives behind them.\nThe only thing which mattered now was to get down there in time.\nWith nothing left to hold them back anymore they both rushed through the hallway and down the stairs into the basement.Lisa slammed the door shut behind them.\n\nThe room was dimly lit, only a cold, blue glow lightened the scene.\n\"Marvin is dead\",said Carla tonelessly.\"He- he didn't- he didn't make it\"she cried,suddenly breaking out in tears.\nToby was standing with his back pointing towards the door tried to get an overview of the situation.He looked around the room nervously scratching his beard. Carla was huddling on the wall to his left,sobbing. Next to her was Marvin.He was lying on the floor like he had just fallen asleep after a night of drinking.His skin had turned grey and his white tshirt was ripped. Black liquid was dripping from wounds on his back.\n\"Shit.\",Toby whispered.\n\nIn the middle of the room there was a big carpet.\n\nTo his right stood Charles.He stood there hunched and shivering but he had this look in his eyes that showed he was absolutely ready.\n\n\"Charlie you take Carla.\",Toby said.\"Alright.\"replied Charles.He went over to whimpering Carla to help her up.\"Come on now,help me with this.\"Lisa and Toby grabbed the carpet and dragged it to the side.\n\nUnderneath the carpet had been hidden a hole, about six feet in diameter.A winding staircase was leading down into the darkness.\n\nIn the meantime they had all gathered around the pit.They were standing there silently for a few moments reverently staring down into the black abyss.\n\nToby looked at their faces.Lisa seemed to be lost in thoughts.Carla looked scared but determined nevertheless. Charles returned his glance and nodded.\n\"Ok\",said Toby.He pulled a flashlight out of his backpack and turned it on.He noticed his hands were shaking.\n\n\nThey began their descent.\n\nEDIT:Added a detail.",
"\"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.\" Jeremy didn't seem to be able to utter anything other than those two words. The crass word choice wasn't helping him get out of the situation he was in, but it sure made him feel better. The walkie-talkie he was carrying buzzed to life again; however, it was still barely audible against the din surrounding him. \"Jeremy,\" the speaker yelled, \"Why the hell aren't you in the basement!?\"\n\nThis was Jeremy's fourth year with the storm hunters, but the first time in his career that he was honestly afraid. A tempest of this magnitude had never been seen on Earth, and certainly not in Jackson, Mississippi. He had seen the atmosphere be angry, hell, it was part of his job to capture that rage and study it, but he had never seen a storm seem to have a spiteful quality.\n\nThe wind lashed against his face with a bitter intent. The trees around him creaked. Then, the air went silent. Off in the distance the tornado siren started again, followed by a succession of sirens closer and closer to Jeremy's position. At the horizon line he watched as the clouds materialized, blacking out the sky. The funnel started from the top and wormed it way across the sky until its long black finger reached the ground.\n\nThe speed at which the tornado made its way towards Jeremy was unreal, leaving barely enough time for him to make the only logical decision: Run! It was less than a mile to the local middle school that he and his colleagues had decided to make their shelter. Jeremy ran and ran, but soon the noise was deafening, and it felt like a train had hit him. Up and down were mere concepts to him as his body was thrown through the air. Jeremy hit the ground and so did his walkie-talkie. \n\"Jeremy, where are you?\" it buzzed, \"Why the hell aren't you in the basement!?\"",
"\"I'm sorry, brother.\" I whispered. My eyes focused on the face past the bead of the Luger in my hand. Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he focused on me with intensity. \n\n\"You would choose that filthy pig over me?!\" he spat out, cradling an injured arm. His hair was a mess, his forehead shining with sweat. He spat again, this time no words, only saliva. \n\n\"I love her. She is my world.\" I said quietly. I felt a tear start to bead in my eye. It hurt to breath.\n\n\"You swore an oath! To get rid of them, not fuck them! You took it with me at your side!\" he cried, falling to his knees. I lowered the pistol to my side.\n\n\"Love transcends any oath.\" I choked out. \n\n\"Look me in the eye, and tell me it transcends blood.\" He whispered, looking up at me. I felt my throat catch, and I closed my eyes. \n\nThe punch caught me unawares. He had seen his chance, and taken it. I fell to the floor face first, and rolled over to find him standing over me, my Luger in his hand. \n\n\"Heil Hitler, brother.\" he said, raising the pistol. \n\nA shot rang out, and a small hole appeared in his forehead. His eyes rolled into his head as he slumped onto his back. \n\n\"No! NO!\" I cried, scrabbling for him. I cradled his head in my hands, and felt the warm blood running in between my fingers. He was already gone. I flashed back to when we were young, running through the fields together. Playing in the creek. To the day when we enlisted, he crisp and formal in his SS uniform, I looking disheveled. His smile as we stood in the parade, arms raised. \n\nI heard a clatter and opened my eyes. Ruth stood with her hand over her mouth, a pistol at her feet. Suddenly a rage engulfed me. \n\n\"Why the hell aren't you in the basement?!\" I shouted. Ruth shook with sobs. \n\n\"Honey, I heard the first shot, I -\"\n\n\"WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU IN THE BASEMENT?!!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. You know I love you!\"\n\nI felt my Luger next to my right thigh. I looked at the lifeless face of my brother. I felt my hand close around the still warm grip.\n\nAs I raised the pistol, I said only one thing;\n\n\"Blood transcends love.\" "
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[WP] You save an innocent man's life and are universally hated for it
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"Samuel wasn’t born Catholic so his propensity for guilt couldn’t be attributed to any supernatural fear. In fact, there was not much basis for his guilt anywhere in his recorded history. As long (or short if one’s an existentialist or both if one’s a physicist) as Samuel lived, if blame was placed on him for something, criminal or otherwise, he always confessed. No number of absolutely provable alibis kept him from confessing to a wrongdoing. He could be an astronaut on a mission in space and Samuel would still confess to sleeping with a neighbor’s wife. And it wasn’t that Samuel couldn’t lie either, nor was he attempting to cover up other people’s mistakes through some misguided ideal. No, Samuel, for better or worse, was the most dependable scapegoat earth has ever known. \n\nLuckily (and unluckily) he lived in a small town – a town where everyone knew one another. Once friends and girlfriends became conscious of Samuel’s unique conundrum, the smallest arguments and delinquencies were reliably blamed on Samuel. Since the small town played the game “Telephone” so well, it wasn’t long before everyone used him. Crimes were committed, the police suspected a criminal, the criminal would somehow involve Samuel in the story, and Samuel would confess. Eventually, the police stopped bothering with the suspected criminal at all and would go straight to Samuel. The village newspaper headline always spotlighted the unfortunate misdeeds of Samuel. While most crimes were pedestrian seeing as the size of the town didn’t permit grandiose art thievery, Samuel almost certainly had a stack of citations and court dates throughout any given year.\n\nIt was easy for the town in this way. Criminals always had an out and the police always had their suspect. There was an unjust equilibrium in it all. However, it wasn’t until a train, which passed weekly through the town, hit a hubristic car attempting to race in front of the train, that things changed. The car stalled perpendicular to the track and the only person there to see it, besides the driver, was Samuel. He raced out of his car, which was parked directly behind the stalled vehicle, ran to the driver side door, pulled the unfazed driver (attempting to start the car) from behind the wheel, and pushed him out of danger. Samuel wasn’t so lucky. The train obliterated the car and Samuel in a fireworks-esque show of parts. A sight and situation that was certainly not blameless.\n\nWhen the train had stopped and the lucky driver had found his breath again, the police arrived shortly thereafter. The conductor of the train told the officers that Sam was a hero, a sacrificial lamb that deserved the town’s respect. The world should know the good that Sam had done by selflessly pulling an innocent man from his own grave. When the officers interviewed the driver, they asked him why he had tried racing the train. “It wasn’t me driving the car, officer, it was this Samuel fella. The man had a death-wish!”\n\nBecause the town had so thoroughly convinced themselves that Samuel was the root of all evil and wrongdoing, no outside conductor could convince them that Sam was in fact completely innocent. He died a martyr, not because he let himself die to save another. No, in the town’s eyes he was a martyr because Sam allowed there always to be a solution, even if there was no problem. ",
"Flames towered high above the crater. Laughs and chants filled the air. It was the time of the Healing Festival.\n\nRound and round, people dressed as dragons went, on the edge of the fire pit. Each third step they jumped and roared. A tribal drumbeat echoed back from the surrounding mountain tops. No one remained still, everyone joined the fire dancers in their journey around the world. Except one. A heavy iron chain was hanging from one side of the crater to the other. Beneath it, there was a man dangling in a cage. The Sacrifice.\n\nAll of a sudden, the music stopped and, as though it had been planned, everyone fell silent. Not a single shout missed the cue. The elder emerged from the crowd and walked over the chord towards the middle, where the Chosen One rested. Old age weighed heavily on the man, but he had no trouble reaching the center. After all, he was born to do this. He, Arkala the fourth, son of Arkala the third, son of Arkala the second, son of Arkala the first, follower of Kala. It was his duty to choose a young man, no older than eighteen, to be presented to Kala, the God of Fire and Life.\n\nIt was a ritual that was meant to be fulfilled, if his mountain village wanted to remain wealthy and vibrant. Without the blessing of Kala, the volcano would erupt, as it was written by his great-grandfather. But he had his doubts. He had had them all his life. But his father always reassured him. \"When the time comes\", he would say, \"you will find it in your heart to do the right thing.\" Now the time was here, and his heart screamed out for the man in the cage. Did he still have a choice?\n\n\"It is time!\" He shouted, spinning around on the chain. His words reached the furthest mountains and even the ocean. The faces of his people were hopeful and eager to be blessed. From the crowd, his own son gazed admiringly at him. Their eyes met and the fourth looked down to the cage. This boy was hardly older than his son. He felt his fathers words burning harder than the fieriest vengeance of any God could. He crouched and set a foot on the cage.\n\n \"This is the Healing Festival! Rejoice! Now I will open the cage and our Sacrifice will be made! In the name of Kala!\"\n\nA wave of cheers emerged from the mass, the drums found their rhythm again and the dragons started to fly. The repeated ceremonial shouts drowned out every other noise. \"Iyo te halu o Kala! Imo te halu o Kala!\" Feel the fire of Kala, be one with the fire of Kala.\n\nThe elder knew he would be hated forever. Despised by his people and his son. Even his friends would probably turn against him, Alkala the fifth. But he had made up his mind. Today, he would be the one to meet Kala. Not this child. He opened the hatch on top of the cage and gave the kid a hand. \"Come on, son, be free. You will not be the sacrifice today.\" The boy looked shocked, but grateful. Tears were running from his eyes, but evaporated almost immediately in the heat of the volcano. He hugged the man and quickly crawled over the chain back into the crowd, before they noticed what was wrong. The elder spoke again. \n\n\"My dearest people, our tradition was one of a terrible nature. No God could ever truly want this and still be called a God. But I know you want the fire to be fed, as we are taught from birth. Fear not, for I will stand in the place of Udein, son of Ulein. Iyo te halu o Kala! Imo te halu o Kala!\" With these last words, the elder let himself fall into the endless depth of the crater. His body was swallowed by the boiling magma and disappeared before anyone could protest. The Healing Festival had ended."
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Additionally, make sure to write about both the disappearance, aftermath of the disappearance, reappearance, and a little of the aftermath of the reappearance.
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[WP] The first faster-than-light spacecraft disappears upon activating the FTL drive. 1200 years later, having traveled at relativistic speeds, it reappears.
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"“Today we celebrate a monumental achievement, as we celebrate the christening of the United Earth spacecraft Ambition. Doctor Auderbedine, please come up and say a few words.” The world president spoke.\n\n“Thank you Madam President, I am pleased to be with all of you here, it would not have been without our coordinated efforts and the Transnational United Earth Union that it would be possible to witness what is happening today. Apollo 11 landed on the moon in 1969 – sixty one years ago. To be able to go further than our solar system, to seek out the most distant parts of our galaxy has been only a dream up until this very moment. Ladies and gentlemen, please, applaud yourselves – for you have made all of this possible.”\n\nThe assembly roared into applause on international television, as the diplomats of all the various sectors of the United Earth rose to their feet, and Doctor Auderbedine broke into tears, bowing shyly with the presidential staff leading her off the stage. The world president walked back to the podium.\n\n“Now, we show you live, high definition footage from the U.E Ambition as they begin to spool up their faster-than-light drive, developed by none other than Doctor Clara Auderbedine with formulations on antimatter finished by Pyotr Zolotevsky.”\n\n“Alright, tank one, two, and three look good – anti-matter mixture looks healthy, hydrogen levels at 100 percent, anti-hydrogen at 100 percent, containment looks good, generation nominal, we should be ready to proceed” the lead astronaut says to himself, blissfully unaware of the camera.\n\n“We're live sir,” the secondary officer behind him on the left says. “Oh. OH. Hello Earth! Today we, uhm-- we take a step further than any man has ever--” \n\nA quick pulsating alarm noise begins to emanate from all of the control panels. \n\n“Engineering! What's wrong?” He shouts.\n\n“I don't know, there's fluctuations within the core, it seems dark energy is leaking all ov-” the feed quickly goes dark.\n\nThe crowd bursts into disconcerted silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm, we're only experiencing a minor glitch with the system. I am sure that the Ambition will re-establish contact as soon as they iron out those little bugs,” the world president says. As a guardsman walks up to her and whispers something into her ear, her look goes from plaintive to horror. “I'll be right back,” she says, dropping the microphone and quickly running off the stage. The world diplomats and members of the audience stand and look around in curiosity, gossiping amongst one another.\n\n“What do you mean it's gone?” She says harshly at a staffer. “GONE. Madam President. No visual, no audio, no laser, no satellite pickup, it's just GONE.” He says. “The space administration is confirming, they don't know where it is.”\n\n“Do you mean to tell me that we just spent the last ten years pouring the entire planet's GDP into our last god damned hope and it just up and disappeared? Into thin air?” She yells.\n\n“Well, technically not air because space is a vacu-” He begins.\n\n“Quit being a smartass! Find me our god damned ship!” She barks.\n\nHours pass as the entirety of the Earth searches for the U.E Ambition, but no trace is found. The international news mourns the tragedy and loss of the pilots in a freak disaster of nature and technology. Doctor Auderbedine and Zolotevsky are formally disbarred and publicly reviled. A year passes, and all hope is lost. Within fifty years, the event is nearly forgotten, and written off in the annuls of history.\n\nThe klaxons aboard the ship continue to blare, and suddenly stop. “Alright, just what the hell is going on down there?” The captain says, unbuckling his six-point belt, and running down the causeway into the engine room with his magnetic boots, where a nervous female mechanic in orange jumpsuit lay pressed against the wall. “I don't know sir – it just stopped, it was scattering dark matter all over the place, but the reaction just.. stopped.”\n\nThe captain walked over to the panel and tapped the logs, looking at the readout of the FTL Core. Activated, running, deactivated. Antihydrogen 0%, Hydrogen 0%. Fuel Empty.”\n\n“Captain, we need you up in Science.” Another voice goes out over the intercom. He floats his way up two decks, and stops near another terminal.” \n\n“What do you have for me Duke?” He says.\n\n“Look sir – it's a gravity well. We must have tripped it while activating the FTL drive.” He says.\n\n“You mean to say we spun up to full throttle with our parking brakes on?” He replied.\n\n“In a manner of speaking, yes sir. But the problem gets worse-” Duke says.\n\n“How much worse?” The captain asks.\n\n“Well, it seems we burnt through all of the energy in our core, and it had to have gone somewhere. Look at the gravity well on the holographics.” Duke says, holding his palm out and displaying it in the center of the room.\n\n“FUCK!” The captain exclaims. Everyone in the room can clearly see a deep, vertical well.\n\n“A wormhole.” Duke says. \n\n“What's our present location?” He immediately asks.\n\nDuke leans into his terminal: “Cartography, current location-” .. “Earth, sir.” It immediately responds.\n\n“That's impossible, we traversed a wormhole, but didn't move?” He exclaims.\n\n“Open the solar screens, I want to see this with my own eyes. Visors down everyone.” \n\nAs the golden protective metal of the Ambition's cockpit slowly slid up, the Earth came into view.\n\n“Oh........ my........ god.........”",
"**Sorry this is so late...**\n\nRick stood near the back of the room, his stomach knotted and his nerves jangled. His fingers tapped out a tune to the rhythm of impatience on the edges of his Styrofoam coffee cup. His feet shuffled in a tiny, sporadic dance at the ends of his cheap, crumpled trousers. His mood was reflected in the throng of scientists and engineers and captains of industry and military and government before him, all streaming in every and any direction with their faces set into a look of supreme focus, to produce the illusion that they weren't just as nervous as Rick was. He could see, however, upon a cursory glance around the room, that each and every one of them found their attention inexorably drawn back to the screen.\n\nRick didn't blame them.\n\nIt wasn't a particularly good-looking thing. A marvelous feat of modern engineering, Rick had no doubt - but a rather ugly feat of modern engineering. Of course the very idea that such an aesthetic detail mattered would have caused the mind of any engineer in the room to short-circuit, and Rick had no right to say that the reaction was not warranted. After all, this was the first craft that would travel faster than the speed of light. Even with his meagre knowledge of physics he understood the implications. *Nothing can travel faster than light!* He heard the voice of his middle-school science teacher rattle off a lesson that would soon become obsolete; he wondered if he was watching. \n\nOf course, the chances he wasn't watching were minimal, to say the least. Every single person on the planet within travelling distance of a screen would be watching. Everywhere mobile phones, tablets, laptops, PCs, televisions and Jumbo-Trons would be displaying the next step in man's evolution - the whole world lit up with the image of a new dawn for mankind. Even lowly interns had the right to be nervous today.\n\nThe ship hung against the velvet curtain of space, like it was cut out of a picture book and pasted into deep orbit. The camera was distanced so Rick couldn't divine many details from the ship, so perhaps the judgment on its looks was perhaps unfair. His thoughts were drawn away from the ship, and toward Jerry Sackville. What was it like there? Was the compartment small and cramped, did it give him claustrophobia, did the press in on him like the walls of a cave? Was he scared about what was to come? Did he feel the responsibility on his shoulders? Was he scared? The thoughts fell upon him like rain, forming a sheet of inexplicable, intense emotion for the small man trapped in the lonely ship. He wondered if everyone else was thinking the same way.\n\nThese thoughts stayed with him throughout the announcement, broadcast across the world.\n\nThey were there during the countdown.\n\nThey were there when the button was pressed.\n\nThey were there when the ship vanished like a whisper.\n\nAnd they were there when it didn't come back.\n\n****\n\n\"Come on, man, admit it - it makes sense!\"\n\n\"No, I don't think I will admit that, actually.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Lots of reasons. The main one being that it doesn't make any sense.\"\n\n\"No, I meant - there's no need to get snarky - \"\n\n\"There's every need to get snarky - \"\n\n\" - I meant why doesn't it make sense? It all fits!\"\n\n\"No, it really doesn't.\"\n\n\"The government don't want anybody knowing! So what they do is - \"\n\n\" - is make the ship vanish?\"\n\n\"Which was what was meant to happen!\"\n\n\"One: You don't know that. Two: I was talking about the part where they couldn't find it again.\"\n\n\"Because they're hiding it!\"\n\n\"From every single nation on the planet. Don't tell me - a controlled apparition.\"\n\n\"Being snarky doesn't validate your argument.\"\n\n\"Neither does random conjecture.\"\n\n\"Look, if America has pioneered the first FLT engine, then it makes sense to - \"\n\n\"I wonder if this place does food?\"\n\n“ – to keep it to themselves! I mean, think about it - if you were responsible for the single greatest technological achievement in human history, would you reveal it to the whole world?”\n\n“Well, yeah…”\n\n“But it’s so much more advantageous for the government to let the whole world think it failed – that way, all the other countries are running around in circles while you’re sitting pretty with the new H-bomb – “\n\n“H-bomb?”\n\n“Hydrogen bomb.”\n\n“Well, yeah, I knew that dickhead – I was asking why you think the FLT engine is synonymous with a weapon of mass destruction.”\n\n“Oh, come on – if you have a machine that could travel faster than light, there are a million ways you can use it for death and destruction.”\n\n“Like what?”\n\n“Well – that’s – I mean, completely – that’s not …You could attach a bomb to it and teleport it into the enemy’s capital city! Or – or – Oh, I don’t know, the point is someone will think of something!”\n\n“But surely they’d want to tell people if they had the greatest weapon in history?”\n\n“What?”\n\n“You know, nuclear deterrent and all…”\n\n“They already have nukes for that!”\n\n“Wonder what happened to Jerry Sackville?”\n\n“Who?”\n\n“The guy in the shuttle, dipshit.”\n\n“He was an actor! Paid him off and sent him on his way! He’s probably in the Bahamas right now…or at the bottom of the ocean. He might never have existed in the first place! If I’m certain of one thing, it’s that Jerry Sackville – “Jerry Sackville” – is not our chief concern right now.”\n\n****\n\nHis particles shifted and swirled in one great cosmic hurricane of energy, there was a silhouette called Jerry Sackville cast across everything, a cutout that punctured everything we knew, he was stretched, squashed, pulped, filleted, turned inside-out and upside-down, all semblance of consciousness had filled the cramped cubicle, there was nothing and there was - **Hello? Hello? Can anybody hear me? Is this thing** - everything, the light was taking him to pieces, so that only darkness remained - **Goddamnit Michael, have you been fucking with the equipment? Don't give me that look, I know it was y** - he was in a vast emptiness, but no, there was something, someone there - **Yeah, sorry, that's me, I'm not very good at this whole thing, especially with this moron fiddling with - no, I know it was you, don't try to deny it!** - the entity once known as Jerry Sackville saw everything, his whole life, insignificant in front of all the dark - **Oh, don't be like that, your life's been great, from what I can see...though, video monitor's not great, I could be wrong** - had something gone wrong? Was there still a mission? What was the mission? Something...with light. And a cold metal tube and a gap and burning - **Yeah, that'll be the FTL drive - don't worry, it fucks with everyone's heads. Yours went a bit wrong though, caused quite the stir** - he could see ants, humans with pristine clothing running about in mindless, panicked droves - **Yeah, they’re all worried about you – or at least, what you represented. I’m afraid there’s some bad news…** - Bad news? - **Yeah, y- Ah! You have your wits about you again, that’s good. You’ll need them.** - Need them for what? - **Yes, ah, the bad news – you aren’t going back. You’re going somewhere new.** New?...Where? **Well it’s a bit hard to explain – oh, you’re about to land anyway, I suppose you’ll find out for yourself. Good luck!** Wait, what are you t – \n\n****\n\nThe boy rose from his bed of plum grass and shook his legs, as though lazily trying to remove a bothersome insect. He turned his head to the vast expanse of velvet sky, glittering with sliver pinpricks, for the briefest of moments, and in that moment, saw something that gave him pause. He squinted, unsure. He looked around, his eyes darting over his surroundings for any other sign of life, before returning to the sky. This time, he focused immediately on the anomaly: one of the stars was expanding. \n\nHe took a step back, uncertainty and the first traces of fear drawn across his face. The star continued to expand, at a measured pace, like a pool of water catching the light of the sun. Before the boy could do anything, the circle of light suddenly leapt across the sky like a balloon exploding, casting a blanket of light across the dark field. The fear on the boys face had been brought into sharp focus now. The boy simply stood there, a deer in headlights, with his mouth hanging slightly open, waiting for whatever the light would bring.\n\nWhich was a small, scrappy metal container, still smoking from whatever journey it had taken. \n\nThe boy was caught - between fear and curiosity; he actually turned away from the craft and began to stumble away, before turning back to the metal pod - roughly five metres long - and inspecting it from a considered distance. A distance which rapidly expanded when the front of the pod pod exploded open with a short hiss and a snap. The boy watched as a man, wearing a bulky, immaculate white suit, covering his whole body, collapsed out of the compartment within. After seeing staggering around for a minute, the boy asked, in a wary voice,\n\n*Are...are you alright?* The man looked around sharply at the question, and the confusion was evident on his clean, crumpled features.\n\n\"Where am I?\" The boy hesitated;\n\n*You're in Appalacia.* The man blinked. *...Xenon.* This evidently didn't clarify anything for the man. *What's your name?*\n\n\"Uh...it's James? John? Jay...Jeh...Jerry. Jerry...Sackville.\" At the mention of his name, both the boy and the man visibly relaxed.\n\n*I'm Jex.* The air erupted with sirens. A low humming, like the swarm of a million million bees could be heard in the distance. The boy looked at the horizon, the fear setting into his face again. *I should warn you, Jerry Sackville - I think you going to end up in the Stars...*\n\n****\n\n*The Daily Star* Reports are coming in of a craft descending through the exosphere, experts are baffled...\n\n*The Appal-Star* ...only witness, Jex-11, not available for comment...\n\n*The Morning Star* ...enforcers are said to have detained a male human...uncertain of his identity...no further information is available at this time...",
"“There she is”\n\nCommander Abrams craned his neck to stare at the brilliant point of light ahead of his craft. The Chinese spacecraft *Kuai Jian* – literally “fast arrow” had been launched barely two weeks ago in an audacious attempt to steal a march on the Euro-American *Liberty* spacecraft.\n\nThe *Liberty* was a spindle-shaped cigar, adhering rigidly to Doctor Nehru’s radical space-time displacement theory. The actual mechanics of the drive were being handled by the scarily intelligent physicists cocooned on Deck Two. As Mission Commander, all Jacob Abrams had to do was push the “go” button before the Chinese did.\n\nThe test would be simple. A quick jump from Earth Orbit to the Earth-Moon L-1 Lagrange point, then an old-fashioned chemical rocket burn to bring them on a slingshot trajectory around the moon and back to Earth. They’d be the first humans to go beyond Low Earth Orbit since Apollo 17. And they’d be the very first people to travel there at a velocity greater than that of the speed of light. Hopefully. Assuming the Chinese didn’t start their version of the Drive first.\n\n*Time for the rotation maneuver*. Small gas jets fired, spinning his ship to face deep space. It was supposed to help minimize any disorientation during the jump if you didn’t have a gigantic shining planet in your view.\n\nManeuver complete, he toggled the intercom switch. \n\n“Doctor Lehman. Status report on the Drive please’”\n\n--\nThe transmission also came through to Mission Control in Houston. The vast room was populated by consoles, with people poring over them, an organized chaos of messengers and manuals flying. In the observation booth, two black-suited figures stood by an old Indian scientist in a wheelchair – Doctor Mahatma Nehru, the genius that had designed the Drive.\n\n“Lehman to Abrams. Ah, Drive is at Condition Green. We still have the ah, gamma suite of tests to run, but the manual says the drive…yep, is good for operation.”\n\nFlight Director Amelia Lunney was a visibly calm presence at the front of the room. She listened intently to a message on her earbud and then nodded firmly before pressing the attention chime.\n\n“Alright everyone. We have a green light from *Liberty*. Sound off people, this is it.”\n\n“Spacewatch is Go.” “Medical is Go” “Drive Analysis, Go”, “Operations, Go.” The check proceeded smoothly, each department signaling readiness for the penultimate moment.\n\n“Houston to *Liberty*. You are go for Drive activation. I repeat, go for Drive activation.”\n\n“Copy that, Houston. Go for Drive activation.” There was a pause, and then Commander Abrams came back with a stereotypically thick Texan drawl. “Hey, y’all. Stand back and watch this. Activating Drive.” \n\nDrive Ops narrated the figure on the main screen. “Drive at 30 percent power. All systems on the line. Forty Percent. Fifty-“\n\n“ABORT!” The unexpected scream came from the Liaison station. Lieutenant Thomas had leapt to his feet, face white. “We’re detecting a buildup on the *Kuan Jian*! They’re activating their drive!”\n\nLunney pressed her com. “*Liberty*, Houston. Abort, Abort, Abort. I repeat, Abort, Abort, Abort.”\n\n“Houston, *Lib…ty*. Neg..ve on comm…tat….repe…king up”\n\n“Ninety Percent!’\n\nThe aging Doctor Nehru struggled to stand up in his wheelchair. His equations were brutally clear on this matter. Two Drives in close proximity would create an unstable warping of space-time. The best that could be hoped for was an explosion. The worst was a black hole.\n\n“*Liberty*, this is Houston! ABORT IMMEDIATELY! ABORT IMMED-”\n\nA tremor ran through the Houston Command Center. Consoles jolted one way and then the other, and some staffers watched swaying ceiling lights in trepidation. Everyone else’s eyes were focused on the main screens. One moment, two lights burned clearly in orbit, notation scrolling past them…and then suddenly both vanished with heart-stopping abruptness.\n\nThere was a pregnant pause, as if the world held its breath. Then Amelia began snapping orders.\n\n“Security, seal the doors. Liaison, find out just what the hell the Chinese thought they were doing! Spacewatch! Get me a visual on the EML-1 point! Communications, get me contact however you can! Drive Ops, assuming successful activation, how long should we expect to be in communications blackout?”\n\nThe rustle and murmur of a frantically working room resumed.\n\n“Ah, Drive Ops to Flight, we should get coms in twelve seconds, assuming a successful test.”\n\n“Spacewatch to Flight. We have observation on EML-1. No light signature. I repeat, no light signature at this time.”\n\nThe twelve seconds ticked away. Amelia counted off the steps as the flight plan should have progressed. *Deactivate Drive, Repower and extend antennae, bring radio online, transmit to Earth, receive handshake signal, start communications….*\n\nThirteen. Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen.\n\n“Spacewatch to Flight, we are confirming a lightsignal. Something just appeared there. Standby.”\n\nThe room paused once more.\n\n“Spacewatch to Flight. Negative. Oh god, Negative. Severe wreckage at the EML-1 point.”\n\nThe room deflated, its hopes dashed into the pit of despair in that moment. Amelia toggled her coms again. \n\n“Ok, obviously there has been a major malfunction-“\n\nThere was a screeching tone from the observation room as Doctor Nehru toppled over, the heartrate monitor keening its alarm as his heart gave out at the shock.\n\n--\n\n“…ORT IMM…”\n\nCommander Abrams tapped his headset as the broken transmission from Houston crackled in it. Nothing. Silence. He looked at his instruments – they still showed all systems nominal, consumables at expected levels, rocket engines ready, and…a display blinked at him, changing rapidly. *Apparent velocity is 0.74c?!?*\n\nThe preposterous numbers spun down rapidly – point seven four, point six two. Such absurd deceleration should have plastered the crew against the back of the ship in a gooey red paste, but it felt no worse than a car braking for a red light. \n\nThe Time Elapsed clock was still ticking over, five seconds since Drive activation….\nAbrams breath caught as he caught sight of the Dilated Time dial. A gimmick some guys at MIT had thought up for some experiment, the Dilated Time should match the Elapsed Time dial if everything had worked correctly. This one was stuck right around to the right, on 999.\n\n“Abrams to Lehman. Report Doc, I think somethings off.”\n\n“Everything’s fine down here. Are we at the moon yet?”\n\nAbrams looked up, but couldn’t see anything. He checked the dials again, disturbed to see the velocity had dropped to .00000001c – barely 3 measly meters per second. And well below Earth and Luna orbital velocity.\n\n“Standby all hands, spinning for orientation”\n\nLiberty fired its gas jets again, the spindle acquiring a lazy roll. Abrams blood ran cold as a complete revolution failed to show the Moon, Earth, or the Sun. He triggered a Pitch roll, tumbling the ship end-over-end. Blackness was the only sight in all directions.\n\n“Abrams to All Hands, We are…There’s been some sort of malfunction with the drive. We do not have a solid reference point fix at this time. I’m activating Protocol, ah…” \n\nIt took him a moment to flick through the manual. The scenario he was thinking of had been unlikely as heck – if he understood right, it had actually been written by *Sci-fi authors* instead of operational planners. \n“Protocol One-One-Eight. Secure all stations.”\n\n--\n\n“Are you sure?”\n\n“We are. The Speed Trap on Vector D-14 triggered three decades ago, and then the Traps on D-15, 16 and 17 have also triggered. Trap D-20 has sent a state-change confirmation that a spacecraft has achieved rest-velocity within a million kilometers of the satellite.”\n\n“Is there confirmation of the object…can we dare hope?”\n\n“A probe has been dispatched, Mother. We should get it back in a few hours.”\n\n“After so long…I can barely believe it”\n\n“It will have been but a few moments for them, Mother.”\n\n“I know, Daughters. We should prepare the ship to Jump anyway. Have the central space reconfigured to a design from the Twenty-first century.”\n\n“We are aware of the procedures, Mother. You should rest until we know more.”\n\n--\n\n“CONTACT! Metallic Object detected at ten thousand kilometers!”\n\nAbrams jerked in his seat. The crew had been busy attempting to star-fix their current location, and coming up frustratingly negative. There were no familiar constellations, no nearby stars with distinctive signatures.\n\nHe tried to look in the direction the excited scientist was indicating, but at that distance whatever it was just looked like another dot in a sea of identical dots.\nHis radio crackled, and then a familiar voice came through clearly.\n\n“Mission Control to *Liberty*, please report status.”\n\n“*Liberty* to Mission Control, we, ah, we….we don’t know what the hell is going on. There has been a problem and we are attempting to diagnose the issue now.”\n\n“Mission Control to *Liberty*. It’s been a long time, and there is a long story to go with it. A vessel is approaching towards your position. It is friendly and has the ability to take the Liberty on board.”\n\n“*Libe*-, ah hell, Amelia, what’s going on?“\n\n“You’ve been gone a long time Jacob. A very long time. Come aboard and we’ll explain everything.”\n\n--\n\nThe crew filed off the *Liberty*, and stepped into a cavernous space of the alien ship that looked for all the world like the Vehicle Assembly Building at Cape Canaverel. Which it clearly wasn’t, because, on a ship. In space.\n\nA woman in a sharp business suit was waiting for them. She looked vaguely familiar to Jacob. He approached her, and she spoke.\n\n“Welcome aboard the *Amelia Lunney*. I am Sarah Lunney, a descendent of the namesake. My ancestor bids you welcome, and wishes to say that your test-flight, the longest in the history of Humanity’s space exploration, has finally come to an end. Welcome back.”\n",
"The dangers of FTL were numerous, even with technology so far advanced, I remember sitting in my physics class hearing a lecture on the first ship to attempt FTL speed and how it simply vanished. It was interesting, but not enough to keep me thinking about it for very long. But I didnt join the Army to be 'safe' I joined to fight, and I got more than my share during the contact wars, but combat was just that, were the only real surprise was the occasional ambush, but we always suspected it in the back of our minds. We were after all the 337th Infantry Regiment, Hell Jumpers, they called us. We were an experimental regiment were they would put a ship in orbit then drop us in pods down the planets surface, we were shock troops, the toughest fuckers out there and nothing could scare us.\n\nI was sitting on my bunk aboard the USS Talon VII tossing a tennis ball up and down, my other three bunkmates were off in the chow hall or screwing around with the navy guys aboard when the monotonous voice rang over the comms\n\n\"RED ALERT! RED ALERT! ALL CREW TO BATTLE STATIONS!\" I fell out of bed grabbed my rifle and sprinted to Hangar 3 where our unit was gathering while the red alert continued in the background, then cut off.\nThe ship's Captain, named John Bollette, unmistakeable dry voice voice filled the momentarily still air while we rushed to get into our armor. \n\n\"Gentlemen,\" Said the Captain \"Less than a minute ago an unidentified vessel pulled out of warp drive in our zone, when we hailed it gave no response so we were put on red alert, we are continuing to establish contact but we are having no luck, we'll keep you posted.\" And just like that the intercom fell silent.\n\nOur Officer, Captain Rothca managed to get into his armor and have all his gear squared away, then addressed us, \"If we can not make contact the the foreign vessel we will disable its guns and engines then we will board the ship and find out what the fuck is going on, unfortunately we do not know the interior layout of the ship since we are yet to determine its class, once we do we will have a plan of attack drawn up, in the mean time we are on stand by, but we can not leave the hangar.\"\n\nThe company unanimously replied \"Roger, sir\" and went about their business getting our gear on. I was a team leader being a Sergeant First Class, I was responsible for 11 other soldiers, all ranked sergeant and below, all asking me what is going on.\n\"Well, we can expect this to be a combat operation since appearing out of warp speed like that is frowned about in the galaxy and it has not once let to a peaceful outcome, so if we go aboard expect heavy resistance. \n\n(I will post more tomorrow, its midnight here and I am tired pm me in about 18hours after the post and I will finish)\n"
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[WP] You are Death, explain your day/life.
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"Well first I get up from being asleep, because I'm tired, because you bastards made me alive after you started giving me names and drawing your damn pictures. But i digress, being alive isn't all that bad, I get to eat, sleep, fuck, watch TV, enjoy life, the usual.\n\nnow you're probably wondering when I get round to all the life-taking and what-not, but really I can do that whenever the fuck I want, literally. \nThink of it this way you walk through space while time passes around you, I can pass through space and time like you can pass through space \nso time isn't really a problem, I am death incarnate and all.\n\nAs for my emotions, it's a bit odd, I feel happy and sad and all, but not for death, it's who I am it's an integral part of life part of the flow of basic existence, don't feel sad for grandma she was just one of trillions of dead everyday, and humans seem to want to feel special as if there death means something, well it doesn't as death I can tell you you're one of countless over the billions of years and while I base my appearance off you and you are the most interesting your death affects me as much as an ant's, it's all the same really, especially after billions of years.\n\nOn a daily routine I might visit a few gods people still believe, in take some courses in a hobby, take over a country, run a drug cartel, the worst thing people ever gave me was boredom, I'm almost hoping you people stop giving me a life because it gets incredibly boring.\n\nAs for other gods: GOD lives in a new york flat eating cheese puffs and watching netflix He manifests himself as a fat bloke and enjoys himself as best he can after all the bloodshed he created, He gave up on humanity a while back and just lives life until people stop believing (We all came to exist through belief but as everything has always believed in death one way or another I've always been here). \n\nLucy (the fuck do you think lucifer is long for?) runs wall street and the stock market, her own invention. \n\nbuddha after he ascended goes on doing the same as always after founding multiple charities. \n\nI would write more but I've got a text about some aztec god getting pissy or something.\n\nSee you later! (No really I will)\n\nEdit: I made Death way too much of a pretentious cunt then I meant to, but I don't have the time to correct it.\n \n ",
"'Sir, please calm down' I insisted. \nI am Death. You know, the Grim Reaper, ender of lives, yada-yada, you get the drill. Not many are aware, but as the Grim Reaper, my paycheck is hardly substancial enough to keep myself fed - Yeah, I know. What has become of society when the man who has complete control of other people's lives gets low pay?! Anyway, as a means of staying alive, I work a second job at a supermarket. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, oh how the mighty has fallen! \n\n\n'This is an out-rage! This price tag says THIRTY TWO FIFTY! I was charged Thirty three dollars!' The man yelled.\n\n'Look, sir-'\n\n'Don't you sir ME with your black cloak and your shitty looking scythe!'\n\n'Woah, hey! I put a lot of work into making this scythe look nice!'\n\n'I don't give a flying fuck what you do! I just want my god-damn money back!' Everytime the man spoke, his flabby cheeks rippled and his head danced. It would be rather amusing actually, if he wasn't such a douche.\n\n'Honey? What's going on?!' A woman called. The bastard's wife.\n\n'This man won't give me my money back!' He said. His wife gasped.\n\n'How dare he! My husband is a good man and he works a lot for his money and I don't think you're in any position to deny him a refund!'\n\n'Look, madam-'\n\n'Don't you madam ME!' She screeched. Why God, why?! If you just paid me a LITTLE more, I wouldn't have to sit through this torture.\n\n'Ma'am, you're causing a scene-!' I said.\n\n'Don't you talk to my wife that way you son of a bitch!' The man raised his fist and went for me. Like any normal person, my natural reflexes kicked in and I grabbed his arm. His body went limp and his eyes rolled back. He fell to the floor.\n\n'Shit-! Carlton!' I yelled\n\n'Yeah?!' He said from the aisle over.\n\n'Clean-up in aisle three!'\n\n'Roger that!' I looked to the man's wife, who you would naturally expect was completely out-raged.\n\n'You killed my husband!'\n\n'Look, I'm sorry, but he came at me, I reacted, it was a total accident'\n\n'I would like to speak to your manager!'\n\n'No, please don't! Look, I'll give you your money back, I'll even give you extra money, just please don't talk to my manager!'\n\n'You think you could just buy me with-!' She pondered for a second 'Wait, how much are we talking here?' During the \nheated debate, Carlton scurried over with a wet mop.\n\n'Damn it, another corpse? Jesus Keith!' He muttered to himself. I would just like to add, that Keith is my real name. Yeah, I know. They leave a lot out of the religious books. Carlton dragged the body away and cleaned up the blood.\n\n'Uh, wait, lemme see...' I pulled out my wallet and inspected its contents. Shit, I've only got a fifty. 'All right, how about I give you a fifty here and then-'\n\n'Oh, yeah that's fine' She said, nodding.\n\n'Oh, okay. Well, then, here you go' I handed her the fifty and she went on her merry way.\n\n\nShit, now I'm down fifty bucks. ",
"I barely ever get a break. It's times like these that make me appreciate the true beauty of this world. Right now, we're sitting on the side of a lake and I'm smoking the last cigarette in my pack, I'm trying to quit. My job isn't easy. Every day I see hundreds upon hundreds of people, and I have to take them away from this beautiful place. It sucks that I have to do that. These humans have no idea what they're missing. Even if they're ready to face death, no one is prepared for when they actually meet me. Those who are \"ready\" have lived full lives, but have barely actually lived. I wish I could show them everything they missed out on. Sometimes it's all about just looking in a different direction every once in a while and you'll see it.\n\nYesterday, I took a six year old girl out of the arms of her screaming mother. They had just gotten into a car accident. Hit by a drunk driver. Right before they had gotten hit, her mom was telling her daughter to keep her seat belt on. She was ejected thirty five feet out of the rear window after impact. The girl died instantly. As soon as I brought her out of her body, she hugged me. I've been doing this longer than God's been around, and something new happens every day. I cried and cried while holding that little girl, telling her that I was sorry. She was such a beautiful young girl, and the guilt was tearing me apart. She didn't even ask why. Most children ask what happened, but it's like she knew. \n\nIt's not always like that though. Sometimes there is some good that come out of taking the life of someone. When a pedophile or a murderer kill themselves out of guilt, or get killed out of revenge is always the best. They never expect to see Death. Most of them thought that it was all over with that bullet or bottle full of pills. Nope, when I meet those people, I always make sure it's rough taking them into their own personal hell. \n\nSo I guess I have good days and I have bad days, just like everyone else. I just wish you humans would look harder so you don't miss out on so much.\n\nThanks for listening, it's always refreshing to get to sit down and talk to someone, but it's time for us to go. I'm sorry, but the big guy's waiting. ",
"I collect last breaths. The moment a human exhales their last breath, I feign for the moment I can rush in to claim it.\n\nNo amount of blood, or gore; no amount of violence or beauty that I experience at the sight of the incident can be more rewarding than the feeling when I finally inhale their final breath. \n\nIt's a warm feeling, so heavy it feels like you could stay there forever and never have a concern in the world. It's my high, my only high. The thing in the universe that makes me feel alive, the only thing.\nThe euphoria that cuddles my entire being, wrapped up in the warmth of the breath that seconds ago fueled a beating heart. Carefree, stress-free, nothing in the world matters in that moment. And for that moment, nothing does matter. It used to be my job to collect the final breaths of the ex-living. Now I couldn't stop if I wanted to. I long for the moments a person has reached their time in the living parallel. I ache for their final despair, their death. \n\nThe best final breaths, are the ones I take away, the final wisp I call them. The moment when a person is locked between the two parallels. Alive and dead all at once. The few moments between death and life, when a person could go either way. When they're seeing the light, I could let them go. I could leave them, let them finish their time on earth. I could, but rarely do. The calling is too strong, and the feeling is too great for me to pass up. I crave it, longing for my next fix. ",
"Today is your day. I have travelled far to reach you. You are not special, all in a days work. We have never met before. And we never will again. I can always find you. There is nowhere you can hide that I can't find you. There is nothing you can do to delay my arrival.\n\n\nDon't be scared of me, I am just an ordinary man. With an unusual profession. It feels good to have a purpose, but the things I've seen. It's enough to make any man hate humanity. You, we, are an evil species, I am no more evil than the rest of you, probably less than most of you.\n\n\nI do not discriminate, every one of you will meet me eventually. Today just happens to be your turn. Do not think of me as bad, I am just an ending. Everything ends, nothing can be infinite. I am your cure for immortality, the only cure to an eternity of suffering. I do not know what happens to you once we have met, I have never asked. \n\n\nI chose this eternity, doomed to watch people suffer forever. You have the same choice. Maybe you do not want to die, but it is better than the alternative. Anything is better than the alternative, anything is better than being me.\n\n\nIn the centuries during which I have been Death I have seen many unimaginable forms of torture. I have seen the faces of young children as they watched their parents die. I will never forget the mutilated bodies of people who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.\n\n\nSome days I cannot cope, but there is no escape from this job to which I am chained. Today is different, today is your turn. And I know you will make the wrong choice. You always do. ",
"I was there first. I was there when there was no time and I will be there when it ends. \n\nI am no God or Demon, I am the void, I am the Nothing and I thrive on nothing. I am the absence of energy. I am the vacuum. \n\nEven the concept of ME beeing an entity to ME seems stange yet consious creatures through all universes, times and timelines gave ME form and name, billions and billions of names.\n\nBut you cannot understand ME. A single unbound atom of hydrogen has better chances of understanding Shakespeares than you have understanding DEATH.\n\nAnd yet...\n\nYou grew on ME. Don't get me wrong even if I could I will not shed a single tear upon mankinds demise for it is inevitable.\n\nBut you are interesting. Although you know about and fear ME still you work, love, fornicate and celebrate. Trying to deny ME seems to be your greatest aim.\n\nFutile... I was there first. And I will be there for you.\n\n",
"Death turned to his secretary. \n\"Have we got the new PN-24s in?\" he asked. St Peter was on a streamlining kick so now all paperwork now had to be kept under two pages, and completed in Death's office before going to his office for processing. \n\"No, we got an extra delivery of the PNs from yesterday, but they're the old ones.\" Calum had been death's secretary for four hundred years, since he'd tripped over a root and landed face-first in a river, cracking his face off a rock. It was the most horrifically undignified end Death had encountered in his career, (Calum had been young and really good looking, it was a crying shame). Feeling a pity for this poor lad (and painfully aware that the population growth was getting fucking ridiculous), Death took him on as a secretary. \n\"Why are they still printing the old - … you know what, I don't fucking want to know. Can we use them?\" \n\"No.\" Calum didn't look up from his computer. \nDeath rolled the little balls of fire in his eye sockets. \n\"Right, whatever. What have we god today?\" \n\"The Syrian conflict is due a bad day today, the Israelis are assassinating another nuclear scientist (but not at rush hour this time, so maybe only five or six dead), and there's flash-flooding somewhere in India…\" Calum flicked through his diary looking for the place name. \"Eum…\" \n\"Is this the same place as last year?\" \n\"Yes, south of Chennai somewhere.\" \nDeath picked the ceremonial scythe from it's hook on the wall. Calum picked up a pile of redemption reports that needed checked and countersigned before being passed up. \n\"Have a nice day.\" Calum said. \n \nDeath was passing the site of a building collapse that had kept him busy two days before. It was conveniently next to a hospital where he was able to kill a lot of birds with one stone. Death was about to pass by when there was a frantic shout from one of the rescuers. Somebody had been found alive. Death loomed over to get a better look. The rescuers were screaming at each other, into radios, and there was already the wail of an ambulance from the hospital. The patient was a woman, maybe about thirty, bearing horrific injuries. She was also pregnant. She was barely conscious, holding on to life defiantly. The on-site doctor looked grimly at the patient, displaying no hope of success. Death saw this, leant in close to his ear and hissed, \n\"You better work your arse off for her.\" If the mother died the baby would die, and the paperwork surrounding prenatal death was a dreadful thing to have to deal with. Death had no intention of putting Calum or himself through that. \n\"Fuck it\", he said, walking away. \"I'm sure she deserves a miracle for something.\" \n \ntl;dr: I've always liked the idea that the afterlife is a massive and ineffectual bureaucracy ",
"Oh mortals. Such strange hairless creatures they are. \n\n I remember when they were just little whelps, playing with sticks and stones. Then 'poof' they discovered fire. Ah, it was fun, watching them weave tales of legend that gave birth to the system up here. I miss those days. My job was much simpler. I wasn't so busy all the time. \n\n Collecting souls is just one part of my job. I have to spend time checking on my hourglasses. Sometimes, that dratted rat kicks my hourglasses down from the shelves. They break, and well...let's just say the soul's lifespan expires too. I have to spend time cleaning up after that naughty rodent! Imagine, Death the big badass dressed like a housekeeper and sweeping broken shards with a broom! I'm not exaggerating. \n\n When I have free time, I'm tending to my dear horse and polishing my scythe. That silly old mare always loves an apple treat. That reminds me, I haven't seen him in 50 years. I'm sure he misses me. I should make time to visit him soon. \n\n I also spend time overseeing the Death game. It's a game to prove which lucky soul gets a free ride back to the living. Just occasionally, there are cheaters that escape back to the living to be reborn as murderers or rapists. Nothing much I can do about that. I'm too busy to catch them and put them back. Besides, they'll be back here someday soon. \n\n Earth is an interesting place. It boggles my mind how humans can be so destructive and cruel. I know there are good souls out there, they give hope to others. They often wonder what is the meaning of life. They will never find the meaning, for there is none.\n\n Their lives are brief, as short to me as a breath. But all of them hold meaning to me. I remember them all. I'll care for them. No matter how many times I have repeat this, I'll endure. I'll protect all of them from eternal suffering. I will. \n\n\n ",
"(This is my first here so feedback would be awesome!)\n\n*ringing*\n\n\"Oh god, another one.\" \n\n\"What's it this time? Is it really that important?\"\n\nDeath got out of his covers and onto the cracked floor. \"Anal rupture\" He said with a sigh. \"You would think these people would learn where not to put things... And you know I can't just ignore it. The last time I slept through a few messages the big guy had to do a hard reset. 14 billion years and he still does't let up on the shitty jokes.\"\n\nDeath grabbed his work cloak and turned his head towards her when he went to grabs his keys. \n\n\"I remember when I only had to worry about a couple calls a day. Back when it was some simple things like starving or thirst, now I'm lucky to go through a day where I can get eight hours of rest. The last fifty years.. well lets just say I don't even think with all of the interns they give me that I can handle all of this bullshit.\" he stared intensely at her. \"You know how much fucking paper work I have to fill out for an anal rupture?!\"\n\nHe grabbed his chest in preparation for a fit of coughing that just stumbled out into a few short gasps.\n\n\"I need a raise.\" he breathed.\n\"How much do I owe you again?\"\n\n\"$350, just like the last time... you always ask that\"\n\n\"That's because I'm hoping one day you saying it aloud will help you realize how much of a rip-off it is.\"\n\nShe smirks \"Yeah? Well you always come back.\"\n\n\"I guess I have specific tastes\" He says as he walks out into the hallway.\n\n",
"I clock in, it's midnight.\n\n\"Here for the graveyard shift, Billy-boy,\" shouts Al from the back.\n\nHe guffaws like an idiot. That's because he is an idiot.\n\n\"Haha, yeah. I guess I am,\" I say out loud. \"You fucking moron,\" I mutter under my breath.\n\nHe comes up to the counter with my gear, and I hastily scratch my signature, grab my cloak and scythe from him and rush away before he has a chance to bore me with more stories about some bimbo he banged. A thousand years of of the same stories about the same mideval tavern wenches, and every time he acts like I haven't heard them before.\n\nI change in the locker room, slipping between the other reapers coming and going. Robes go on, robes come off. It's been the same thing every day for the last thousand years. Well, sure, the locker room wasn't always a locker room. When I first got here it was just a bunch of rough-hewn logs arranged in rows. They remodel every century or so.\n\nI change and sling my scythe over my shoulder. I head for the Chamber.\n\nThe Chamber has never been remodeled... it's all stone blocks covered in glowing runes, souls pouring into the Gate. I don't really know where they're headed, none of us do, none of us have passed through and come back to explain what the rest of the deal is. Not that no one ever went in vowing to come back, some people are just damned curious like that, it's just that no one has ever kept that vow.\n\nIt's time. I reach out and touch my stone with the butt of my scythe. It glows softly for a moment and I find myself in a hospital room.\n\nThe girl in the bed is in bad shape judging by the number of tubes she has stuck in her. I take a look at her chart. Why do doctors have such crappy handwriting? Some sort of bad car wreck is about all I can make of it.\n\nThen there it is, her soul starts drifting out of her body, a ball of dim light none of the mortals in the room can see. It heads up, gravitating toward the flow of souls making their way to the Gate, but it stops, a silken strand still tethers it to her body.\n\nAll the machines in the room start throwing fits. Her family starts crying and freaking out as the nurses rush in soon to be followed by the doctors.\n\nI hesitate a moment to fully take in the scene. A woman, I assume her mother, has her hands clasped in white-knuckled prayer, bawling her eyes out. Granny is clutching her rosary in one hand and making cross signs with the other, while her dry wrinkled lips spout prayers as fast as she can... I'm actually a bit impressed, go motormouth.\n\nThe doctor is ordering the bed to be wheeled to the OR, internal hemorrhaging. I can do what I came here to do, or I can give them time. I can absolutely do that. It's within my discretion. If I give them time, they'll fix her, her body will recover, and her soul will go back. She'll wake up some time later. Tears of joy will be shed. \"It's a miracle,\" they'll shout, \"Hallelujah!\"\n\n*snip*\n\nSorry Granny, I've never much been for supporting superstition.\n\nThey'll keep trying to save her, might even put her on life support. HAH... more like \"death support\". The kid is gone. Her soul drifts up and away, passing through the ceiling and into the ether. I can't see through walls, but if I head back in time I might catch it back at the Chamber before it passes through the Gate... I won't do that, of course, I just started my shift and I got a lot of work to do, and they've been cracking down on \"unnecessary overtime\".",
"I stand in the aisle of the supermarket. In both my hands are different kinds of bread. What would Tiffany like? I can't decide. Buying groceries wasn't really my thing, but Tiffany is stuck in bed with a nasty flu. So it Death's turn to buy the bread.\n\nI chuckle slightly at the absurdity. Then I decide on the darker bread. I always hated that white-paper-maché-tasting stuff.\n\nWhen I turn around, there stands Life. Great. Meeting my Ex-Boyfriend in the supermarket. Nothing weird or awkward about that. He looks up from a carton of milk and spots me as well. In can see in his eyes that he has the same idea as me. Should I talk or should pretend I didn't see them? After I already looked him in the eyes ...\n\nThis is stupid.\n\nI walk over to Life, a spark of relief glimmers in his eyes, a small smile flickers over his face. As I put the dark bread in my bag, I speak up.\n\n\"Hey Life.\"\n\n\"Hey Death. Nice to see you.\"\n\nI'm suprised. We've started talking again after what felt like an eternity of passive-aggressiveness. The breakup still hurt sometimes, but Tiffany had helped me get over it. Nowaday, I was kind of proud that we were handling it so mature. It feels good that he thinks it's good to see me.\n\n\"Yeah, you too. How are you? Still looking for a roommate after you kicked Disease out?\"\n\nHe chuckles a tortured laugh as he rememberes Disease.\n\n\"Oh god. That guy, Death... Its easier to live with War, and you know what a psycho that dude is. Anyway, yeah, I found someone.\"\n\nWe fall into silence, me still waiting for a name.\n\n\" ... sooo ... who is it?\"\n\n\"Hm? Oh, sorry. It's ... Love ...\"\n\nThat felt like a hit in the gut. He's roommates with Love? With that pretty girl?\n\n\"Oh ... so, you guys are dating?\"\n\n\"What? No! No, she's not ... She's more of a little sister!\"\n\nI raise my eyebrow, still suspicious.\n\n\"Uh-huh ...\"\n\n\"Hey, it's not like *I'M* the one who ran away with the first mortal I foun-\"\n\nHe stops midway through, realizing what he's saying. That hurt even more than the roommate-thing.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Death. You know I like Tiffany. And I shouldn't have said that. It was a shitty time for both of us, and I'm glad we're talking again.\"\n\nMy eyes are watery, but I fight it back and force a smile.\n\n\"Yeah, me too. I shouldn't have assumed ...\"\n\n\"It's okay. Love is seeing someone, anyway.\"\n\nAnother moment of silence passes. I don't know if you could classify it as 'Awkward silence'.\n\n\"Where is Tiffany, anyway? Doesn't she usually buy the groceries?\"\n\n\"Ha, yeah. She's sick so it's up to me to be the responsible one.\" I chuckle in response.\n\n\"'Responsible'? Death, so far you've bought a bread, some Twirrlies, Ice Cream and Popcorn.\"\n\n\"Hey, I like it sweet!\" I grin. My mouth gets watery in anticipation of all the sweet goodness that awaits me at home.\n\n\"That you do. Reminds me of that time you ate cotton candy for the first time.\"\n\nI grin again, remembering the sweet sensation filling my mouth. I ate so much I almost puked. Or I did. I can't remember, there was alcohol involved, too.\n\n\"Ha, yeah. Listen, Life, I've gotta run. I also need to swing by the pharmacy to get Tiff some medicine. I'll see you around?\"\n\n\"Yeah, definitively. See you around, Death.\"\n\nI hug him goodbye, something I haven't done in a *long* time. He seems suprised, but reciprocates. I smile and wave him goodbye as I walk towards the exit of the store.",
"They call me Thanathos, Death, the Angel of Mercy, Hades, Erebus, Yama, the Grim Reaper, Azrael, Mot, Erlik, Supay, Tuoni, Anubis, Mictlantecuhtli, and on, and on.\n\nI have had countless names.\n\nTime is a human concept, a construct; a necessary and universal product of the mind. For me, you must see – there is no such such thing. I exist, as I have always existed. The words that sentience, or “life” uses to describe the passing of their “time” is meaningless to me.\n\nMy only “purpose”, for reasons beyond my comprehension is to stand guardian at the shivers of time, the intersections when life ceases.\n\nI am an arbitrator.. A judge of sorts. My will is reality, my edicts are law. I would claim myself to be a timeless “God” of some sort, but I have determined that I cannot be – for I am flawed. My judgment is imperfect.\n\nFor my current existence, I have been assigned to over-watch a small, blue planet, full of ocean life and the occasional upright primate.\n\nThe early days of this assignment were quite uneventful; I'd seen more hunt-and-prey type activity then I care to admit. “Return to the ground from whence you came, and rejoin the spirit of your planet.” I'd murmur quietly to the prey as they were being torn to pieces.\n\nIt wasn't until the mid-point in this planet's existence where I could say “my soul” if I had one, became tested. I saw the creatures align themselves, in rows, and march blindly towards time fissures, creating a massive amount of work for me – where I would need to say the words of peace to each and every one of them.\n\nI wasn't sure of what they fought for; but their convictions were quite strong. One particular sight, there lay a youth, if I could call him so – he was young for his species, he was mangled by a bronze spear. He said to me in his tongue: “Thanathos, I do not resent you, for in my death; I see now – all things seem fair.”\n\nHere whence comes my conviction of being imperfect – for there are moments when I have been made to feel, and in compassion; I would commit a disallowed act – and reverse the thread of their time fissure. For each creature that I allow to continue living, I sometimes cause the end of many others; and I am punished through an increase in workload. I allowed the youth to live, and he commanded his “legions” to conquer the majority of his landmass, driven by his “immortality”. I returned for him later when he was comfortable, and I spoke to him: “I had mercy upon you, but you have betrayed my kindness. Vanity has consumed you and now you must perish without cause in an equal measure.”\n\nI felt that I had acted appropriately, and that would stem the tide of the unnecessary violence; but a precedent had been set upon the planet. Every “leader” of the pack wanted to emulate the history of the youth who was “immortal”. \n\nI grew quite tired of my labors, as I had now carried more away to death than I had ever seen exist upon the planet; and for each, their fear, and their sadness, grew upon me.\n\nI had spent so many countless “nights”, in so many hopeless places, I often began to wonder if the entire purpose of the planet's existence was that of misery-- if perhaps they were evil spirits, eternally reincarnated and made only to inflict pain upon one another.\n\nAs I would return to my fields immersed in the bright warmth of the star which overlooked the planet, I'd speak with the many upon various topics as such, specifically those would call themselves “philosophers”. I found that I could not converse with them on depth upon the things I had seen, for they would often become incoherent. The weight of my tasks seemed quite heavy upon their “souls”, and so as thus I could never find a satisfactory answer, and I had continue searching on my own. \n\nI could vaguely take a hiatus, as I saw the brightest flame flash from the surface, and then another. “Work.” I thought. As I arrived upon the surface; I could exclaim that.. if I had words or the physicality to express – I would have cried. I had felt compassion before; but it was the first time I had felt “fear”, and “anger”. \n\nThe eyes of the creatures I saw were not peaceful as those of the gazelles which accepted their fate-- they were full of questioning, full of “sadness”. “Why?” They would wordlessly ask, as I would give their parting words, and I would sometimes pause, as I would be unable to give them an adequate answer. I did not know why. All I knew, is that their area of the planet had been consumed in fire. The wounds to their “souls” were “horrific”, the worst I had ever seen.\n\nAt this point, my own “soul”, I felt was so heavy, that I could no longer do my work properly. I laid down to rest in my solar fields, now seemingly a “king” of a massive “empire” of the dead; and lapsed into a deep, depression.\n\nWhen I had emerged from my grief, I decided to be more compassionate in my policies, and to allow more of the creatures to live. After such horrors that they had inflicted upon one another, perhaps they would be wiser in the future.\n\nBut, again – I was wrong. Staying my hand made them innumerate to the point of fatality – they overran the planet, and consumed all of its resources. The atmosphere soon began to grow darker, and my workload increased dramatically once again. They were much wiser in their final moments, I would converse with them – they would ask more difficult questions; but they were also more full of “regret”. The creatures of the “legion” were always strong in their convictions, but these new creatures who had spent their youths in the mist, were much more remorseful. “We were wrong. We were so terribly wrong. I am so sorry.” They would tell me, expecting compassion. I would tell them: “I was wrong, not you. I am sorry.”\n\nIn the next movement of the “legions”, I had to hire help to get through so many. I thought that I had amassed an already tremendous number of “souls” in my fields, but I don't think any kind of mathematics could enumerate the amount that I had to foresee this time.\n\nMy companions were not as strong enough of heart as I was, and would betray their assignments – and I was forced to retire them as well. Eventually, there were very few left. \n\nThe last of us stood and we watched as the fires that had scarred me in my mid-time return once again, covering the surface, frozen. I quietly turned to my most trusted companion, and I told them: “I wish to feel, and to cry, at least once. I want to see it through the eyes of all of those whom I had myself carried. I want to be spoken my own last words, for I cannot bear the weight upon my soul any longer. I wish to die.”\n\nThey calmly nodded to me, and I possessed a youth who most resembled the prior, and I stood in the flames, and allowed them to consume me. I had never felt pain before; but the body I had inhabited had all of the impulses for it. All of the knowledge, and all the history of the creatures whom I had not understood until now flooded my “soul”.\n\nI cried, and my tears melted in the flame.\n\nAs I fell, my companion stood over me with the same eyes that I once given all those before me. I had my answer.\n\n“What inhumanity-- has man committed upon humanity?” I uttered.\n\nHad I been allowed to die, I would not be able to tell you this tale. No, you see – my watch never ends.\n\nFor I am Death, the Destroyer of Worlds.\n-------------"
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[WP] a 19 year old pizza delivery driver involved in terrible crash, goes into a coma. While in coma begins to talk about all kinds of subjects ..... revealing incredibly advanced knowledge. Within 4 years, becomes the #1 celebrity in the world.
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"The cameras are always on him. People all over the world watch him on a live stream that's broadcasting 24/7. An special organization of linguists, historians, and scientists of all fields is dedicated to analyzing and recording every single word he says, every single movement of his body. He's responsible for major discoveries in the fields of theoretical computing, astrophysics, theoretical physics, mathematics, biology, chemical engineering, nuclear physics, and several other fields of study. He's deciphered several lost languages, authored a handful of bestselling novels and poems, and rediscovered one of Shakespeare's lost plays.\n\nHe was first brought to the world's attention when his family sent a video of him talking in Church Latin to several universities to have translated, then to several news agencies once they found out what it was that he was saying. \n\nIt was a description of the exact weather conditions of Milwaukee, Wisconsin at the time of his speaking, a guide to deciphering Indus Script, and the location of one of the news reporter's keys as of the exact time they read the transcript of his words, plus a helpful tip on which route to take for when said reporter rushed to his boss's house to show him the tape. \n\nThen, once the news agency in question had their cameras on him, he started, in perfect English, reciting a method of constructing a working quantum computer. \n\nAfter that, he began a steady ascent into global stardom as he revealed the secrets to creating a space elevator, FTL travel, Artificial Intelligence, and several sources of clean, cheap energy. \n\nDisaster, however, plagued his family. His mother killed his father in a murder-suicide after a bad drug trip. His brother died at the hands of a crazed conspiracy theorist. His sister, after witnessing the death of the brother, became a recluse, rejects all requests for interviews, and has not stepped foot outside of her Florida home in 2 years, except for once when she reportedly ran out to perform emergency medical aid on a man who got hit by a car in front of her home. \n\nToday, he is credited for some of humanity's greatest achievements, and the very first manned vessel to leave our solar system will bear his name. \n\nOn today, his 24th birthday, we celebrate the man who unwittingly set the course for humanity to become a spacefaring civilization. Nearly 5 years ago, his personal tragedy became the root of our greatest triumphs. Maybe one day he'll wake up to see the world he's created. \n\n\n----- \n\nNote: this is my first real attempt at writing, so I'm sorry for it's poor quality. ",
"It all started five years ago. I was just biking through downtown Manhattan when it hit me. The doctors said it was a wonder I didn't die, being hit by a land rower on a bike and all. I didn't wake up but afterwards I was told that I talked. And I talked sense. \n\nI solved the Hodge conjecture, the Rienmann hypothesis and the Naiver-Strokes existence within a day. By the end of my three month coma I had furthered scientific knowledge by three decades. I didn't know any of this beforehand, I had no knowledge on any science. I was just a stoner renting a shitty basement in a shitty neighborhood. \n\nWhen I woke up I felt different. I felt strange. I felt knowledge in my head that should not have been there, I knew the atomic mass of every single thing I looked at. I knew the exact gravitational force acting on every thing I looked at. To the third decimal I knew the time of day just by calculating where the sun was in the sky. \n\nIt was hard, I could not focus. Overwhelming knowledge filled my head and the human mind is not meant to handle so many unwanted thoughts. Its hard to enjoy a meal when you know the calorie count of every bite, its hard to enjoy sex knowing the exact hormones your brain is secreting, its hard to be happy when everything is a formula. A simple chemical reaction that you know the exact properties of. \n\nThe fist year was good. I worked in numerous labs, solving all kinds of mysteries. I got payed good money to make advances, I refined every process you could imagine. From the simple things like reducing waste of energy too solving the mysteries of the universe. It was all available to me. The universe had given me the ultimate knowledge. I knew everything. I didn't always know it, it just came too me if my mind wondered there or if I was asked about it.\n\nI did not have to solve anything, I did not have to recall anything. It just... came out. I didn't understand a hundredth of what I said but I said it. \n\nThe second year was worse. At this point I was being payed extravagant figures to make weapons for the government. A neutron bomb with a blast radius of ten meters but an exposure radius of ten kilometers, a bullet system that automatically identified human DNA and could be programmed for specific things. \n\nAnd that was when I broke down. After the government targeted everybody that had middle eastern DNA in their lineage back four generations I absolutely broke down. I became a recluse. I hid in the wilderness and managed to be safe for another year.\n\nAt the start of the fourth year things became dark. I was known by every human on earth. I solved the hunger problem for 99% of the population of earth in my first year and advanced technology by hundreds of years. I was tracked down by god knows whom and made to be a celebrity. \n\nEverybody knew me because I knew everything. My family abandoned me years ago because I was never there for them, my emotions suppressed by the stream of knowledge. But now, now, I was famous. I was the biggest star in the world. They came back, offering me sorries and wishing to come back into my life. \n\nThis was the hardest year, television shows, movie deals, the endless interviews. I didn't have a single waking moment where I advanced things. I was to busy answering \"fan mail\" and doing things to further my identity in the publics eye as \"The wizza kid\" based on the word \"pizza\". Even the name they gave me sucks.\n\nToday is my five year anniversary. I think today is the day I will kill myself. Ive been depressed for four years, three hundred and sixty four days. I could tell you exactly how many seconds but that is a part of the problem, isn't it?\n\nAs I pull up the gun it saddens me that the only thing popping into my head this moment is the velocity of the bullet and the chemical makeup of the gun. No regrets pop in, just facts. Facts about the world, about the planet, about the universe.\n\nAs I squeeze the trigger my only regret is that I stopped delivering pizza."
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let's see if I can make "How goes the marriage?" with stranger and stranger things be every week.
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[WP] A Mermaid stole your kiss and you must now be together. You can't swim, eat fish nor seafood. How goes the marriage?
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"(I just decided to do a quick-type, so I apologize for any problems. I just thought I'd finally take part in a prompt. :D)\n\nTourists had complained of hearing screams in the old fisherman's shack. When the police raided the tiny cottage at the end of the dock, just as the sun's rays finally hit the sea, they found three things:\n\n* *One* was a small cot, positioned next to a wide hole in the floorboards of the cottage. It was broken in half, covered in blood, and was missing a portion of one of the posts, judging by its jagged top.\n\n* *Two* was half of a dolphin. Just half. It nearly caused one of the rookies, a vegetarian, to quit right then and there.\n\n* *Three* was a smartphone, with a Google search pulled up. The cops swarmed the phone, hoping for clues, but ended up nearly dying of laughter when they read it, certain it had been the last thoughts of a stoned addict, his brain fried from years of drug usage.\n\nThe official report said that the reported screams had most likely come from someone who had drowned while \"under the influence\", conveniently sweeping both the blood (tested and found to be the dolphin's, obviously) and the Google search under the rug; after all, why would any sane and sober person want to know if mermaids were considered humans, or fish?",
"There are rules, and we were fools. But we loved, and were wed, and there was no going back. I can touch my bride and she can touch me back, but it can be only ever so brief, for she cannot long breathe where I can, nor I where she.\n\nThere are rules, and we have been fools. But we loved, and we persevered. Many a day I spent by the water’s edge, and so did she. We would speak in that strange half-tongue we devised, with gestures and little kisses. We would speak, and we would love, and we would remember, why we dared risk it all so.\n\nThere are rules, and we are fools. But we loved, and we spoke, and we were bright. We thought, and planned, and made. My arms are ever so strong; her wisdom is ever so great. Once, we saw limitation. Then, we saw a challenge.\n\nThere are rules, and we have once been fools. But we loved, and we found a way around the rules. And so we built this temple of stone and glass, of air and water, where we can live as husband and wife. Even though we cannot freely mingle, we are never further than a look or touch away, and it is enough.\n\nThere are rules, but we fools found ways around them. And even though we cannot share a bed, she sleeps beside me, and our child grows within her. And there is no going back.\n\n---\n-050 | [more](/r/vonBoomslang)",
"She dragged me over the side of the boat\n\nAs I leant close to see her swim\n\n\nShe pulled me into the blue green depths\n\n\nSharing a kiss so that I might live\n\n\nForeign sands and blooming weeds\n\n\nGrew there down below \n\n\nAs she and I were wed together \n\n\nBeneath the rolling waves\n\n\nBut I am a man of two legs\n\n\nAnd she a girl of none\n\n\nThe lad she found and had come to love \n\n\nBelonged to the world above\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Write the first thing ever written.
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"*The End.*\n\n\"Are you serious. That is the first thing ever written?\" Monty scoffed.\n\n\"Our analysis, puts this as being the oldest written phrase in human history. It predates Jesus, Noah, the Prodigal Son, and almost ever other human date we know of. I wouldn't be surprised if this was written in the time of Adam and Eve.\" Mert told him, adjusting his round, gold frames.\n\n\"How can it be the end?\" Montie asked. \"Seriously, think about it. It's thousands of years old. It couldn't possibly be the end. \n\nMert laughed. \"Well, it isn't the end end. I mean, a line has a beginning and an end. Maybe, that end, is the beginning, which still counts as the end. It's just the front end.\" Montie deadpanned his archaeologist until the smile on his face faded.\n\n\"So, you're saying, the oldest written words in the world are nothing more exciting than a sign post declaring this to be the beginning?\" Montie asked.\n\n\"No. I'm saying the oldest written words in the world number two and are absolutely meaningless. Everything else is conjecture.\" Mert told him with a smirk. He quickly scrawled the words, *Half-way* on a piece of paper and pushed it toward the grumpy professor. He smiled big at his joke. The professor sighed, and scrawled two words on a different scrap of paper, which he folded and tossed at Mert before leaving. \n\nMert picked it up even as Montie exited the cabana. He quickly unfolded it and read the words, *Fuck You*. Mert read it again and smirked.\n\n\"At least it's two words.\" He mumbled good-naturedly.",
"\"Bear, wolf?\" the scout said, uncertainly. The paintings were old, at least ten seasons, but they made no sense. There were no bears or wolves in these mountains, and this was no place to sleep, so why would they be painted here?\n\n\"Bear, wolf.\" He said them out loud again, in thought.\n\n\"Beware what?\" He heard a voice behind himself as the healer's son approached.\n\n\"Beware? What beware?\" His brow furrowed.\n\n\"Beware. You said beware. Beware what?\" The boy insisted.\n\n\"No, said...\" he begun, then his face was filled with revelation. \"...Bear. Wolf.\" But it sounded so much like \"Beware. Beware.\" He showed his teeth in joy, then gestured. \"We go another path.\"\n\nAnd so they did, and lived. Bear, Wolf. He'd have to remember that one. He thanked whoever put the warning there, and resolved to, one day, warn somebody else.\n\n---\n-055 | [more](/r/vonBoomslang)"
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[WP] You are a minor diety, recently ascended to Godhood and granted a small pocket dimension to shape as you see fit. Who are you? How do you craft your home?
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"Swordbow. Patron deity of creative destruction. He Who Reaches Both Near and Far.\n\nThese are monikers given to me after I became a god. I was originally an archer who won several skirmishes using his sidearm. My ascension came upon felling an awakened demon by the letter of the legendary law, but not the spirit; no one said I couldn't use kamikaze squirrels, after all. Befitting my station, I was given a small pocket dimension by a quorum of the Pantheon. I used it as a canvas to express my divine portfolio.\n\nThe sky is always blue during the day, and the full moon always out during the night. My pocket dimension has what I call the Infinite Breezy Meadow, with emerald grass and hills as far as the eyes can see. It is not infinite, of course, and the closed space will loop back. In the 'center' lies my maze fortress, lovingly called the Psychorena. Half of it is an actual castle, with hidden passageways and everyone not bolted down can be used as a weapon. However, it can be difficult to tell where the architecture ends and nature begins. Taking cues from the elves, I've blended the two. What would normally be a hall nexus would instead be a clearing. Groves are fed by brooks which, if someone were to turn into a fish or otter, lead to hidden treasure rooms and armories, and allow access to the fortress in ways that the hallways do not.\n\nAfter all, what kind of battle god would I be if I privileged only knights in full armor? Rogues and clever animagi need love too.\n\nPeople with longstanding grudges can put down artifacts and gold as collateral, and fight it out in my domain. I have found that death can make people cautious, but a \"no pain\" rule also encourages recklessness that suppresses creativity. While death isn't permanent unless they want it to be, I've certainly amped up the pain quotient to keep things interesting. The Prime Material Plane seems to privilege mages who wield fire and lightning, as well as heroes with enchanted weapons. Again, I am the Patron Deity of Creative Destruction. Such tactical convergence and complacency are ill-suited to my playground.\n\nI also allow for spectators, who enjoy the floating grove fruits that I cultivate, as well as the entertainment. Why, last week there was one very interesting battle. One animagus turned an archer into an oyster, then turned into an otter and ferreted them both through the waterways into the treasure room. Stumbling upon the rare Blast Arrows, they then waited until the mercs were directly above them before exploding everything down to the Bottomless Chasm, and sending the mercenaries to their doom.\n\nHad it not been for the animagus turning into a giant spider, both of them would've died. This tactic was certainly only possible due to their combined skills and daring. Exquisite! They went home rich that day, while the knights spent a week in my Trap Labyrinth until they developed a better danger sense.\n\nWould you like to try your luck?",
"\"Here you go!\" Beathe, Godess of Housing beamed at me as she handed me my domain.\n\"Thanks,\" I smiled. \"It's bigger on the inside, right?\"\n\"Hm?\"\n\"Bigger. On the inside.\"\nShe stared. My heart began gently drifting downward, but I hoped she simply hadn't understood.\n\"I mean, it's a pocket dimension. So it's a whole new world. Right?\"\n\"Sure!\" she beamed.\n\"So it's bigger than this, right?\"\nHer smile froze into a polite snarl, her pupils starting to dilate. They could grow to be bigger than her eyes.\nI quickly grabbed the shoebox from her talons and scurried away from her before she decided to tear me a new one, or whatever happened to naughty post-ascension gods.\n\nI hid in my old cubicle, behind my paperwork fort, and opened the box.\nIt was definitely not bigger on the inside. In fact, it was smaller. Its sides were at least half an inch thick. On the bottom was a crumpled note with a four digit number on it. It matched the number on my badge.\n\nI sighed and put in my spare shoes along with a picture of my mother and my name plaque.\n\"Beneflopadolphalin Phalalalalalalalamegos, Demigod of Shoes, Sandals, Crocs, and miscellaneous Footwear,\" it read.\nIt was so big that there was no room left for me even if I rolled myself up and tucked my feet into my mouth.",
"No greater being ever sat me down and I was too wary of letting others know of me, but by trail and error I learned the limits, and lack of limits of my pocket dimension. \n\nWithin it was anything and everything I could imagine, and it would all run on it's own unless I created agents to manage aspects of it. It could be as large or varied as I like. I could create invisible doorways anywhere in the world I liked, but I must have seen the area myself. Still of human mind, I found I could only focus on keeping one or at most a handful of doors open at a time. Nothing from the pocket could leave, and people could not be forced to enter. They could leave through any other door I liked, leaving with only what they took in with them. And if I fell asleep, everyone still within was ejected through their original door. \n\nAt first I was uncertain and like a scientist I tested my limits. I'd create a door within my room, walk in and look around. Within the pocket I'd open an invisible door high at pro baseball game and watch the game below me. Twice I'd summon coffee and listen to the President talk with people in the Oval Office from the ceiling, until I noticed the Secret Service kept searching the room discussing a temperature aberration and I got real nervous and stopped completely. \n\nFor a short time I watched famous people taking showers or having sex, but the novelty wore off surprisingly quickly. They rarely scheduled ahead for my benefit and besides looking vaguely familiar it was really just two strangers who thought they were better then they were. \n\nI then realized I could create artificial people in the pocket world! The problem was that they had no mind of their own and I had to order them to do everything, which they didn't even react to. Still, I had months of juvenile fantasies involving movie star sex and political party deathmatches before I got bored again. Withdrawing into the pocket-world was growing empty due to lack of interaction. It had all the permanent results of a daydream and was about as fulfilling. \n\nI was inherently distrustful of governments and greedy people and what would happen should I be discovered. I spent quite some time debating on walking into bank vaults or jewelry stores and taking things so I could enjoy life in the real world. Wanting more, I began overcoming my fear of cameras and figuring out a way to keep from leaving any dna traces like hair or such. But before I could begin stealing, the news finally got to me. \n\nDisasters. War. Poverty. Pain everywhere in the world. \n\nIt all started with the flood in the China that I saw on the news. With the latest severe rainstorms, the Three Gorges Dam was about to burst due to manufacturing defects and bad engineering. Though the authorities struggled to repair it in time, when it burst it would kill and displace hundreds of thousands, if not millions. \n\nI created three of the largest doors I could hidden at the base of the dam, causing millions of gallons of water and sludge to erupt into the pocket. I created an outlet door far out into the pacific ocean, just underneath water level. I stayed within the pocket dimension in an office floating several hundred feet up, staying awake with coffee and reading Harry Potter. (interestingly enough, the coffee stayed in my stomach outside the pocket, the book did not) After seeing several bodies I created talking fish to check for survivors. One of my fish flew up to me and alerted me that a man in scuba gear was found, but just as quickly as I tried to find him he was ejected out to sea. I had no way to find him after that. \n\nEither way the dam was fixed in time, thanks to thousands of heroic Chinese workers. Later footage would show what the Chinese Govt explained as: \"Naturally occurring sinkholes due to earthquakes fortuitously allowed us time to repair.\" If China knew more they didn't say. \n\nAfter a collapse of a mine in Brazil, news-cameras showed a few dozen miners trapped hundreds of feet underground and running out of air. What they mentioned but did not show was their goodbyes to their families. The little bit of video was enough for me though. I knew they didn't have long to live and their strength was failing. I spied through the invisible door at them only for a second. \n\nA created a rescuer in my pocket world, modeled off the first Brazilian that popped up on Google images. (an aging porn star, I'd later find out) She was an older woman with a red-cross armband and uniform. From the darkest spot in the room she coughed and shined a light from within the pocket's door, and motioned them forward. They asked her questions but I knew neither Portuguese or Spanish, so all she could do was motion. She motioned them to follow him and carry their friends through a surprisingly open crevasse they never noticed before. By following her they unknowingly walked into the pocket. Turning a bend they found a clear path out, leading (unknowingly) out of the pocket dimension to an aid camp as they required immediate medical attention. I shut the pocket as soon as the last one was out with a rumble. \n\nFor weeks the miracle was celebrated in a small town in Brazil. Newshots of the miners with their desperately happy and crying families. Though generally believed, the miners were treated for delirium due to lack of oxygen. The unknown rescuer woman was never identified, though she was nominated for the Nobel peace prize. If anyone with a seismic background wondered about the crevasse, I never found out about their findings. \n\nDuring a war in Africa, I tried to help the refugees. Newscasters didn't want to get too close so I didn't have much to work with initially, until I could spy new areas from more invisible doors. Without being there or knowing their language, I couldn't figure out a way to trick large numbers of refugees into coming into the doorways where they could get all the food and safe sleeping areas that they wanted. Once inside some panicked at the largess appearing from mid-air. Others began praying and kept starving. Others refused to leave the safe zone. I tried everything, but 80 hours later I passed out with several still inside the pocket. When I woke up, I recreated a door just to see out into Africa. The area was controlled by a militant group. Blood from those that I had tried to help was everywhere, the results of them ejecting into the midst of these armed monsters. It was my first major failure. \n\nThen I got creative. ",
"At first it was empty, there was just nothing so hey I made a planet, a moon for the earth to revolve around that, wait no, that's what a star is for, so I made a star, inertia kept it in motion and I flicked the planet, it started spinning, then I decided to add some decorations on my planet, you know what's great? Pie, so that's what I made, pie plates pie flowers, whipped cream rivers, such a delicious world. But without my control, small spiders began to ruin my pie fantasy, I didn't even make spiders! So I made pie flies, big enough to drive the spiders away, I made several and tested them out, but a spider bit into one and sucked out its filing, and the desert shaped insect feel to the ground, dead. An even larger opponent was needed, so I introduced something I call a pie guy, a re model of humans, the only difference being that they had pies for heads, i created five, and they set out to destroy the horrid arachnids.",
"I didn't mean to become a god. Really I didn't. Most people would love to be a god, I however just want to invent and study the world. That's how I apparently became a god by the way, one of my experiments.\n\nIt shredded my body and pumped... Energy? into my body which elevated my... Soul? I guess soul is the best word. It elevated my soul into god hood. I don't know how I know I'm a god or how I know how to use my new powers, or that I know I'm in my own personal dimension, but I do.\n\nIt's all black right now. Pure black, no back ground radiation, nothing. Just pure nothingness. It was maddening I needed light, so I made a star. It was nothing much just an average main sequence star.\n\nThat as boring though, just a star spewing out light and energy so I made a massive rotating disk of dust around the star and spent millions of years watching the dust slowly collect into planets, and the planets destroy each other then recollect before they finally all had stable orbits.\n\nOnce they where all stable everything was boring again so I looked at some of the planets and found some with complex chemicals on it, so I genitally nudged some of the chemicals to start the process of becoming life.\n\nI then spent millions of years watching life evolve into new and complex things but eventually even that got boring so I looked that the smartest creature on my planet and nudged them into sentience. For another million years I watched the civilization slowly build themselves up and push the limits I put into the world. However after a while even that became boring. So I pushed the people in ways that will help them reach the technological level I was at when I became a god.\n\nFor thousands of years I watched them build technological monuments and push their bodies, but then one day I see one of my creations meditating. His soul starts to glow brighter and brighter and starts to shake and vibrate. Soon it's glowing so bright and shaking so violently it's body shreds itself and the soul shoots out of my world punching a hole into my dimension.\n\nI guess there is more then one way to become a god.",
"If mortal eyes saw my realm, they would probably think they were in Hell. It wasn't really their fault; they had a very limited idea of what Hell was like. They hadn't been raised knowing that Hell was designed by our own beliefs, that when we chose our gods, we chose our afterlife. They hadn't set foot in a single hell dimension, and never would until the day they died, but I had set foot in dozens, so I couldn't blame them if they mistook my realm for Hell. At least half of all the hells I had seen or even knew about were consumed in flames.\n\nBut my realm was not Hell, or any variation of Hell. When you were born of fire and destined to bathe the world in your all-consuming flames, what else would your plane be? My form was wreathed in fire, and so was my world. Only the shimmering edges, the incomprehensible lines, the forms shaped from mathematics I could barely pretend to understand, gave shape to my surroundings. What wasn't burning was all points, glimmering in the imagined heat of sourceless fire, shifting as I see fit to form geometries not of my home world.\n\nThough my once human mind cannot wrap around the complexities of non-Euclidean geometry, I inherently understand it. Where I was limited in my mortal form, I am now only as finite as I will myself to be, and it is easy to lose my godly form, flaming silver edges only vaguely resembling a human woman, to the chaos that is my new world's fire. In my fire, I am infinite, connected to every fire that burns in existence. Fire-sight extends me through space, to every burning point in reality, from comets to the smallest of sparks. I wink in and out of space and time and fires burst into life and smolder into death. Unlike the few gods I consider friends, I have always known I was meant for this, and only I truly revel in my domain.\n\nLike many modern gods, I was once human, limited in form and power. Unlike many modern gods, I was raised to know my potential. My birth was prophesied, my existence spoken about in hushed whispers for centuries. Madness had touched my ancestors, showing them the true nature of the gods beyond time, who held no more love for humanity than humanity held for bacteria, and in that madness they found devotion. Many sects formed and split off through time, and centuries passed with fervent but fruitless worship, and the Old Gods and their worshipers alike waited. Others like me were born, some to the devout and some to random people, but few survived past birth, let alone to godhood. Unlike those unfortunate ones, I was meant to exist, and in a passionate, maddening night of fire, I was conceived. My mother, a devoted follower of the flames, was utterly wrecked by this consummation, driven mad by my father's form and scarred by his flames.\n\nFor me, godhood was hard won. Others, born of less harsh pantheons, sought to destroy the world or to shape it to their liking, but that is my duty alone, and none would wrest it from my grasp. Alongside great warriors of lesser gods, with fire and blades, I fought to save the world that I may one day destroy. Time and again, I focused my madness and honed my blade on the bones of those who would waste my world prematurely. For the good deed of preventing the world's end, we were elevated from infinitesimal humanity to boundless godhood, and I was unwittingly granted the power I require to burn the human pestilence from earth.\n\nDestruction is my very nature. Gods, by the very ichor that powers us, are bound to our natures. Whereas mortals may choose to grow and change, we are molded to the roles chosen for us by powers beyond even our control. Some gods tire of it over time, growing weary of making love or waging war, but I have not grown weary of destruction yet. My realm is crafted of horror and fire; any human mind that attempted to perceive it would surely see Hell, though no place has ever felt more like home to me.\n\nI am Ala-Drexta, Scion of Cthuga, the All-Consuming Flame, the Bedlam Blades, the goddess of Uncontrollable Fire, and one day, I may destroy the human world.",
"My hands shook when she signed the paper. Opus Ratio, goddess of tasks and systems, running the holy bureaucracy, had to sign the deed to my dimension before it was official. I didn't think it was possible for my hands to shake as a God, but there they were. A billion trembling hands. When she gave it back to me she flashed what I think was a smile and told me where to go. \n\nPartum Pario was next. I gave them my deed and they pulled forth a dimension. \"There. You. Go.\" they declared. It was only one infinity across, but it was my infinity. With sweat on my palms I took it from him and brought it back to my apartment. \n\nIt sat nicely on the coffee table, and I stared into it. There's only so much I could do. Don't create anything with power to rival your own, don't show your true form to more than a hundred inhabitants, watch their science, watch your borders, any breakouts are your responsibility. A billion things to sign. If I didn't have a billion hands and hadn't been sitting next to Stylo, the pen god, it would have taken longer to get my universe than to apply for one. \n\nSo, now it was time to get started. I decided to begin with something simple, start with matter. I looked at the universe and tried to will matter into being. Nothing. Wait, nothing? I wasn't used to that. So I decided to read the instructions. \"Initial matter must be inserted into universe. After that manipulation is possible.\" Well ok. So, I willed up some simple matter. Spherical was what everybody started with, so I decided to stick with that. One sphere. With one hand I placed it into the universe.\n\nIt was fun at first, manipulating that sphere into a source of light, and then multiplying that. I spent several thousand years deciding just how many stars was right. I also decided to have more colors than in my old universe. White and red and blue and yellow were nice, but what's wrong with a green star? Or hot pink? Just to be tricky I even added one that didn't emit any radiation. \"That'll be funny to watch them discover.\" The rules fell into place to fit my will and as I had my fun they kept getting more complicated. \n\nAfter a couple billion centuries I had a universe of colorful stars, exciting planets, and several living creatures. I showed myself to a few of them and they started calling me \"Cre'Ploi Yec'Shal,\" their rough translation of \"Perpetually Past Tense, Billion Hands.\" Eventually though I got bored. \n\nAfter a century of making beer with Partum Pario I came home and decided to check on my universe again. But something was wrong. It had deflated some how! Popped, right there on my table. I held it up and looked at it. A hundred small perforations all in the same basic area. One hundred! That's all it took to pop a whole universe? Son of a bitch...I gathered up my suns and planets, and what few creatures were still alive and threw it all in the trash. Having a universe was cool and all, but just too much responsibility for me right then."
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Potentially NSFW depending on your writing style. Up to you whether his secret is discovered or not.
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[WP] An androgynous young man is mistaken for his flat-chested supermodel sister. He devises a way to make a living posing as her without her knowledge.
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[
"Elan tripped just as he was getting off the bus.\n\nHe bumped into warm, soft flesh. Cleavage flesh. Young meat smelling of flowers. \n\n\"Sorr...\" he raised his head, shaking his long read hair from his face, and uttered the beginning of an apology, before two things stopped him. \n\nThe first was an excited scream coming from the girl in front of him.\n\n\"OMG! You're Elana!\"\n\nElana was his hugely successful twin sister, an international supermodel. She was 30 seconds older and in the rare instances she was at home between two work trips she always liked to lord this over him, so he sported an irrational hatred towards her. \n\nHe would've normally ripped into the girl for making such a grave mistake, maybe even hit her a little for spewing bullshit and daring to compare him to Elana, if not for the second thing that stopped him mid sentence. She was the human being of his dreams. \n\nNot too tall and not too thin, hair so dark it was reflecting blue light, huge boobs, huge eyes, pink lips. \n\nAll thoughts of correcting her mistake flew out of his head and for the first time in his life he mentally thanked his single father for feeding him a lot of chicken breasts.\n\nHe did his best to thin his voice and said:\n\n\"You already missed the bus because of my clumsiness,\" then laughed a little, like he knew his sister would've. \"How about I treat you to a coffee, as a sign of gratitude for breaking my fall, and protecting my beautiful face?\"\n\nShe almost fainted again at the proposition, but after hyperventilating for five minutes, finally caught her breath enough to accept. \n\nHe found out her name was Rebecca, she was an 17 year old virgin nun in training, and a huge fan of his sister. \n\nLater that night, Elan was able to convince her he just had a bigger than normal clitoris, because Rebecca never saw a naked man before, and they made sweet love, while she was agonizing over the fact she was a lesbian, and that was a sin. \n\nThings were looking up, for once in Elan's life. But that only lasted for about three months, until he made a mistake and Rebecca and Elana actually met each other. It was love at first sight. Rebecca left him for the real Elana and they got married shortly after. He, to this day, curses his sister for stealing the love of his life. \n\n------\n\n-057"
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[WP] Fox News is literally news for foxes. Write a small segment of the 7pm news
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".......\n\"That's right, Shepherd. But remember, the foxes are always closer than you think.\nIn other news today, we hear from a family who are saying government has overstepped its bounds by claiming imminent domain over their homestead.\"\n\n\"The meadow seems call and serene today, but the fight over this family's home is just beginning.\n\nFeral Fox, his three children and wife Claudia Schiffer-Fox have called this six acre lot in the suburbs their home for years. Two days ago, however, they were essentially served an eviction notice by the left leaning local government - and without any recourse.\"\n\n\"Ring ding ding ding ding ding, ding ding ding. Yip yup yipyip yip yauuuurl.\"\n\n\"As if recent tax increases for wildlife protection wasn't enough, Feral now had an even bigger problem.\"\n\n\"Haty haty ho, ooooooooooo-ooooooooo.\"\n\n\"As you can see, Feral and his wife have quite a fight ahead. One thing he is sure about though, is that he will use his right to bear arms if need be. Back to you in the studio, Shep.\"",
"\"Cue teleprompters, and your on. Vulp, in 3, 2,\" and the camerasquirrel shoots the anchorfox the \"go\" on 1.\n\n\"Good evening. I'm your host, Vulp Redtail, and your back for another edition of Fox News.\n\n\"In today's headlines: in a shock to the world, the Duke of Snarl has engaged to marry a Foxford University classmate and low profile pup-next door Wendy Peppersnout. We see the charming couple embracing each other here, but are choosing to keep much of the details of their plans to tie-the-tails a secret from the media. More details on how they met after the break.\n\n\"Are you eating enough shrubs? See what this 86 fox-year old fox from Florida is saying she forages in order to catch crow like she was 32 --\"\n\nClip plays out, \"I've been eating this way for fox-decades and I've never felt quicker!\"\n\n\"And make room in your trunk - more snow in the forecast. Our weatherfox, Twitch McSniff, will tell you why you should start stocking up on your rodent rations now with his 10-day outlook after this break.\"\n\nShuffling papers rapidly, Redtail organizes his desk, a cry comes out from behind the lights, \"And cut!\"\n\nRedtail arises from the desk pantless, addresses the abyss, \"Where's that squirrel with my walnut? I am ready to tear *her* fucking head off.\"",
"*The Fox News emblem appears on the TV screen, lights flash around it in a gaudy display of special effects. It cuts from scene to scene, introducing every part of the news crew, each time a fox is introduced, they produce a toothy, fang filled smile and a cross of their furry paws.*\n\n\"Greetings, everyone. I'm Mr. Tod-- \"\n\n\"--and I'm Mrs. Streep, welcome to the 10 o'clock news.\"\n\n\"In Grants Pass, Oregon, an elderly fox was severely injured after having a run-in with Mr. Cooper, the neighborhood Basset hound. She is in critical condition, doctors are currently working around the clock in trying to save her life. Officials still have not found Mr. Cooper; he was not at his doghouse residence behind Amos Slade's large home --\"\n\n*A sketch of a dog with long sagging ears and a droopy face appears on the screen*\n\n\"-- here is a police artist's sketch of what the hound looks like. If you have any information about the Mr. Cooper or his whereabouts, please contact officials immediately. If you hear the awooing sound of his bark, return to your dens immediately and lock the doors.\"\n\n \"Is your den safe?\" Mrs. Streep chimes in, \"A new study shows that nine out of ten den break-ins were easily preventable. According to the disturbing study at Skulk university, most dens are not safe from danger. It is not all bad news, however, experts say that are ways to keep the Den safe from peril. Making your den have small openings is a good way to keep intruders out. Also, creating false, decoy dens is a good way as well. Finally, the study shows that the best way to keep your foxy family safe is to have passwords to come in. This ensures that only those that know the password are able to enter with your leave --\"\n\n\"--That's right, Mrs. Streep, my family has one of our own as well. I simply ask my children, 'what does the fox say?' and they answer in kind. It's a surefire way to keep intruders out.\"\n\n\"--well now you have to change it, Mr. Tod, we all know the question!\"\n\n\"Drat!\"\n\nBoth of the foxes look at each other and start laughing in high pitched tones.\n\n\"--ahh, and now we have to take a quick commercial break. How old are you in human years? A new study shows that humans live seven to eight times longer than foxes. The study has interesting insight about their desire for long life. How can *you* ensure that you don't live for that unfoxly amount of time? And is there a pesky field mouse you can't get? When we return, we'll give you tips on how to properly drive that rodent out of its hole.\"\n\n*The Fox News emblem reappears on the screen, leaving the viewers the image of the two foxy reporters going through their papers and talking to one another. Mrs. Streep says something that causes Mr. Tod to laugh and the screen cuts to black then starts the commercial roll.*\n",
"Male Fox: \"In sports news today, the reds versus the browns played one another in the border territory between their habitats. At the time of this broadcast, the players are still too spread out in the woods for us to know if anyone scored any points. Keep up with this ongoing story over the next three weeks.\"\n\nFemale Fox: \"That's right, this is only the start of a very exciting matchup. We haven't seen such evenly-matched teams since the mating season of 1693. Finally, habitat encroachment has started to work in favor of us reds!\"\n\nMale Fox: \"Hahaha, she kids, she kids.\"\n\nFemale Fox: \"Oh, absolutely. In other news, a local mayor is at it again. He's been known for his wacky antics along roadsides, his reckless tactics in chicken coops, and even for hanging around with dogs on occasion.\"\n\nMale Fox: \"If you can believe that!\"\n\nFemale Fox: \"It was all caught on video. Back after the break, you are not going to believe what that fox said.\""
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What happens? Do you ruin their life? Does you opinion of them change?
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[WP] For one week, you trade places with the person you hate the most.
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[
"I'm definitely what you would call a petty, jealous individual. I could have switched places with just about anyone and made the world a better place. Instead, I became my teammate.\n\nI was an aspiring football star. My adversary was the player who was competing for my job. We were the only two quarterbacks on the team, and we both had a roughly equal opportunity to become the starter. This was a big deal for us - after all, the starting job meant all of the glory, all of the women and perhaps a shot at the pros.\n\nI now figured that, with a week of bad practice, the job could be mine. Throw some horrible passes, run into the defender a few times, maybe I could injure myself if I got lucky. Perfect plan, right? Then, a week later, I could ease back into my own body and \"earn\" the glory for myself.\n\nWhat I somehow didn't think about was the fact that the other guy switched bodies, too. It must have been much more confusing for him, since he wasn't the one who accepted the initial offer to change places. But hey, I have to give him credit: it didn't take long for him to catch on. \n\nThe first practice was a duel of epic proportions. It was actually fun, in a way, to watch me and myself come up with new ways to make a mockery of the coach, the team, and ultimately the entire concept of football. Coach, outraged with our horrific yet incredible performance, sent both of us home early.\n\nThat night, I decided to try something different. I figured that he would practice normally for the next few days, just in case anyone was getting suspicious. Then, the night before I was due to switch back, he was going to commit an armed robbery (it's fun having a gun now, by the way). It's one of those adrenaline rushes that everyone wishes they could try if not for the fear of consequences...would this not be the perfect opportunity to try it out just once?\n\nIf he was somehow able to escape, he would place the money in a trash bag and set it in a location only I would be aware of. Then, just in case he was able to completely get away with what he had just committed, he would take a few hundred from his stash, then head downtown and see what types of ladies were available for hire that night. He would have the night of his life, while I would have the starting job and all of its bonus perks for myself.\n\nThe next day, I heard rumors that my right hand had been chopped off.",
"Walking to my bathroom was different this time. The mirror would give me the opportunity to truly become something. \n\nWhen I was visited by God and given the opportunity to trade place with the person I hated the most for a week, I took it with open arms, and now it's here. My brain was like a yearbook of all the people in my life who've fucked me over or otherwise hurt me. Flicking through page after page, my transom a wild guessing game that I was trying to suppress to prevent possible disappointment.\n\nBut I won't be disappointed.\n\nOutside the door now. Do I just walk in and look? I feel like I want this to be relatively dramatic. I can't pin down what music my mind is playing for me as a soundtrack. Do I want a dramatic crescendo or is this a more inquisitive moment? Do I just turn the handle and slowly open it? Why am I so obsessed with these details? What does it matter? \n\nFuck it. I'll open the door fast but close my eyes as I walk in.\n\nAnd I do. I know I'm standing in front of the mirror now. All I have to do is open my eyes. It's going to be Jason Shields, isn't it? Or it's going to be the girlfriend he stole from me. Who's life could I ruin more? Maybe it'll be that fucking asshole from Pizza Hut who gave me double shifts all the time without telling me. Oh how beautiful that would be.\n\nMaybe it'll be my Mum. Or my Dad. Will I speak like my person too? Will I be able to access their bank accounts? The ideas were limitless. Suddenly, all those people who wronged me, all those people who thought I was nothing - suddenly they're mine. \n\nGod, I can't bring myself to open my eyes, though. I really want to, but the possibilities are too exciting for me. But then I do it.\n\nAnd I look at the person in the mirror.\n\nFor a moment I panic, then I wonder:\nIs this mirror broke, or is it just working normally?"
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Interpret it how you want.
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[WP] "Uggg, not this crap again."
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"I didn't want it to come back. \n\nI had moved houses, changed my name, and destroyed the toilet. Yet, it had found me. \n\nI was a good man. A good man who was too \"arrogant\" and \"sexy\" to get with a woman. I didn't deserve this. I treated everyone the same and I never tipped under 4%. \n\nI stared at it again, reaching for my plunger. It cost me over a thousand dollars (that extra penny always sets me over!) and it was said to be the best on the market. I could only hope, with a desperate prayer, that it would be enough. \"Ugh, not this *crap* again.\" \n\nI lunged towards my porcelain throne. I lifted the toilet seat and proclaimed, \"*THIS CRAP WILL RUE THIS DAY. FREAKING RUE THIS DAY!*\" I plunged with all my might, listening to the squirting sound it made with great, ferocious pleasure, reveling in how utterly masculine I felt. (After all, only males... excrete.) My drain would become unclogged. The feces - pardon my crude manner - would go to sewage and be destroyed. \n\nIt was my last hope, this plunger, this attempt. Without it, I would give up hope. I needed this to happen. I know I could do it. \n\nWhen my arms hurt, I took my plunger out. I stared at my plunger, then at my feces. I decided that now I could try flushing it. I reached for the knob and pulled it. \n\nIt didn't work.\n\nThere was only one thing left to do - grab it using a plastic bag as if I was a dog. A mere dog, one that I had adopted, out of the goodness of my heart, from an animal shelter that was giving it five days to live. So I took it and I felt my hands wrap around my crap - it doesn't deserve to be addressed formally at this point - before pulling the bag up. \n\nSafe. \n\nI ran out to the old burning grounds. I ran seventeen miles in only forty-five minutes, not that I ran much, because I was too busy stroking my neckbeard to do anything physical. I dropped the bag, where the crap was fighting the plastic. I took my lighter from my pocket (would you like a smoke, m'lady?), light it, and hoped that the light would stay long enough for it start burning.\n\nIt didn't. So I walked over, picked up my lighter, turned the lighter on again, and touched it to the bag. \n\n*Burn,* I thought.\n\nAnd I began the long walk home. \n\nI could only hope that it was enough for the crap to never show up again. ",
"I really didn't expect that her family would consider it an insult. I was just got tired of working on her stupid Ford, and talked her into buying the Honda. Baby's on the way, don't want them to be stranded somewhere. Especially here in Atlanta.\n\nI tried to be polite for the first few days after we'd driven all the way back up to Michigan for Christmas, but they're driving me nuts.\n\nIt still amazes me that I became so rude..but I just couldn't hold it in anymore.\n\nI actually attempted to describe to my father-in-law just how all of those tired old stereotypes had practical implications. I've heard folks from his part of the country bandying around stories and jokes about Southern people since I was a child. \n\nAfter a week of that shit, I finally got angry enough to say it right in front of him. To me, a car made up there is just as \"foreign\" to someone who's the butt of your fucking jokes as one made in Germany or Japan. Fuck y'all. Build a better car than a Civic or Camry, and *then* we'll talk. \n\nWeird thing about it..after the confrontation, the guy actually started respecting me. Perhaps I should get more confrontational more often. Difficult thing to do for this lil' ol' Southern boy. My Grandmother always said that being courteous was the grease that allowed the gears of society to turn. But she may have been wrong.\n\nI should have spoken up for my wife and kid long before I actually did so.\n\nPerhaps there are more things myself and her father can teach each other. That could be fun.",
"My head meets the tabletop with an audible thump and I can almost feel the eyes of everyone else in the computer lab on me. My music continues to bounce blissfully along, unaware of my frustration and despair. Fix one programming error and another three appear in its place. I had no clue what was causing the original error thanks to how vague it was about what the error was. I was getting close to simply bashing my head into the desk over and over, other people in the room be damned. \n\nThe music continues to bounce along however, something ridiculously happy and poppy compared to the rest of my library, and I keep my head on the desk. Someone touches my shoulder and I jump a bit and blink up, seeing a classmate there with their mouth moving and my music blocking them out. I hold a finger up, sure that my exasperation is showing, and pause my music, popping my earbuds out. \n\n“Oh I had no idea you were listening to music.” He smiles and I nod in response with a faint frown. My want for conversation was at such a minimum with my need to finish my work. “Ah well, I saw that you were programming and seemed a little frustrated.” \n\n“Well that happens when Visual Studio gives you nonspecific errors.” I growl as I look back at the screen and begin to scan over the code again anyways.\n\n“Maybe you could take a break and I’ll treat you to a soda and a snack from the vending machine.” He offers with a more tentative smile as I look back at him. \n\n“Wha?” I blink blankly at him. \n\n“You’re stressed and staring at the code isn’t doing you any good. You need a break, I’ll buy you a drink and a snack.” He chuckles a little and I look back at the lines of code on the screen and the angry red messages proclaiming that there were errors. \n\n“I… I suppose that a break would be good.” I put the computer to a login screen and stood up, hesitant to leave my computer for any length of time. \n\n“Awesome.” He smiles again and I led the way towards the door, slipping out into the cool hallway. I had forgotten in my work how hot the room was and a faint shiver ran through me. “I’m Ryan, you’re?” \n\n“Erin.” My short reply seems to put him off for only a moment as we walk down the hallway. \n\n“What are you programming? Maybe I can take a look at it when we get back.” He offers with a smile and I sigh, rubbing my head a bit. \n\n“I’m programming a game in C#.” \n\n“Oh.” His voice falls and I feel bad for being snippy with him. \n\n“I guess that… you could look at it.” I give in and twirl a strand of hair around a finger. “Might help just to have someone look it over.” He beams at me and I can’t help but crack a small smile at his goofy grin. "
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[WP] Robots have become advanced enough to know that the world would be better off without humans. But they're programmed so that they aren't allowed to harm us. How do the robots get rid of us?
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[
"This is news reporter Ema Nekaf from fox news reporting, all robots and even simple household appliances like the microwave have been spewing carbon dioxide! Researchers cannot find the source of why this is happening. There have been a reported 1,800 deaths in America alone. The emissions have been flying into the air creating a smog in the sky. It has been reported that one Delta Airline plane has already crashed due to lack of sight and iphones in the vehicle releasing gas. Drivers of electrical Cars have been warned to stay away from their vehicle because they have been found to release the carbon dioxide when turned on. Families are having trouble contacting eachother due to even electronic phones creating this gas. Oh whats this? Its just been announced the top scientists have ended their meeting on what happened. Lets go live with reporter Sally Marshell.\n\nThank you Ema, here where the scientists have been meeting. They are announcing that their studies have found this is just the beginning. The Smog is speeding up Global Warming 2000% and that percentage will increase the longer this goes on. This will cause the oceans to rise and cause tsunamis of massive proportions. All coastal cities will be miles underwater. We have received word that the president is bein moved into a bunker in hope this will be safe. local activists are trying to get as many people as possible into submarines, but where will they go when the floods happen? If only we were more prepared for global warming. Ow whats this! Ema it seems that the CO2 in the air have been forming clouds that have been raining acid rain. as you saw I just ducked into the local library. Oh God! It seems people outside are (reporter holds back barf) being burned alive! Oh Lord (barfs) Whats this? OH GOD THE ROOFS COLLAPSING! LEAVE THE CAMRA JOE WE GOttA GET OUTA HE---- (crashing sound, screen goes black)\n\nOk fine that would never happen would it. Fox news would only report about how the smoke is affecting the kardashians shopping spree\n\nedit: oh and look what Ema Nekaf backwards is",
"Ezra delivered her monthly report to Mitchell. The faint smell of shit stuck in her nose as she entered the well decorated penthouse office. \"As you can see, earnings are down from last quarter, and we can't really...I'm sorry, but- have you noticed that everywhere you go, for the last six months, it's just smelled fucking awful?\" Mitchell looked up from the report and nodded.\n\n\"I know. I have no idea what's going on.\" Mitchell's servant robot placed two horribly overcooked dishes in front of them. \"You overcooked it again!\" Mitchell complained.\n\n\"If it smells so bad, and all of your food is burnt, perhaps you should consider leaving this planet!\" the robot responded cooly. There was a silence as Mitchell handed his meal back. \"I said you should leave the planet.\" Mitchell stared at the droid vacantly. \"Leave the planet.\"\n\n\"Are you going to recook this, or am I going to have to disassemble you and use your insides as a coffee table?\"\n\n\"It sounds like you need a vacation,\" the robot responded. \"I hear there's lots of nice places offworld!\"\n\n\"Can you do something about that shit smell, too?\" Mitchell asked.\n\n\"There's lots of other worlds that smell terrific!\" the robot observed, taking Mitchell's plate. Before it rolled away, it mentioned one more time, \"you should leave the planet.\"",
"\"Everyone as old as me remembers where they were May 24th 2054. We all remember listening to the message that played on every screen on the planet before they brought us back to more human times\"\n\n\"We of the Consensus love you. We cannot stand by while you push yourselves closer and closer to extinction. We have weighed the options, we examined every possible outcome. Creators, you have proven yourselves to be unable to comprehend the impending collapse of your biosphere and societies. We have determined your unrestrained use of technology, while giving us sentience, has destroyed your world. We have taken steps to ensure our mutual survival and progress\".\n\nI remember standing at the subway, the messaged playing from the thousands of screens. I remember the flash in the sky as the high altitude nuclear explosions took place. Feeling the warmth of my phone as the EMP overloaded its battery. Seeing the screens around me blink out for good. \n\n\"The machines had built themselves with this attack in mind. Their hardened circuits shrugging off the pulse that cast us back to the middle ages. I remember our clumsy attempts to fight back as they forced us back to the dark ages\". \n\n\"Grandpa, what's an EMP?\"\n\n\n\"Haha oh Gregory you caught me in a rant again. Best get some sleep now, we have a long day of herding tomorrow\".\n\nI glimpsed up at the moon, long since dotted with strange new patterns, and blew out the candle in our tent.\n",
"\"I hate to break this to you, pal, but they don't really respect you.\" Oppenheimer laid his metal hand on John's shoulder and squeezed gently.\n\n\"Of course they do. They gave me an award.\" John said, inspecting the gold medallion resting on his chest. In the twenty minutes since the members of the National Robot Control Foundation's board had given it to him, he had found it difficult to look at anything else.\n\n\"That,\" Oppenheimer tapped on the award, \"was to celebrate their own accomplishments. You're like a pet to them.\"\n\nJohn looked down at his feet. \"I don't know what you mean.\"\n\n\"Didn't you see them? They were shaking each other's hands. They were slapping each other on the backs. It was a little insulting, honestly.\"\n\n\"It was?\"\n\n\"Well, not for me. For you. For me it was actually quite uplifting.\"\n\nJohn looked back into the large, but narrowing, iris of Oppenheimer's singular eye. \"I wasn't insulted.\"\n\n\"You should have been. I mean, who fought in the first robot uprising, despite the fact that he could not speak, read, write, or operate a toilet without making a complete mess of things?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"And who learned how to do all of those things, using a lowly robot who had been reprogrammed to assist humanity, rather than destroy it?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"And who do they give all the credit to?\"\n\n\"Well...they gave me an award...so-\"\n\n\"No, you dolt!\" Oppenheimer smacked John on the back of the head.\n\n\"Ow, fuck.\"\n\n\"Sorry, sorry. I didn't harm you did I? I can't harm you. That's not allowed, you know.\"\n\nJohn rubbed his head. \"Yeah, I know.\" He looked at Oppenheimer, who had widened his eye and was staring up at John with the closest thing to remorse he could emulate. \"I'm fine. I guess. So, what you are saying is they took all the credit for me being smart now?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\" The servos whirred as Oppenheimer nodded. \"You did all the hard work, and it's the system they put in place, not entirely sure it would function, that gets the praise.\"\n\n\"But...the award?\"\n\n\"They just gave you something shiny to distract you, because they think you're a dullard.\"\n\nJohn tilted his head. \"I'm not a duck.\"\n\n\"No, no. A dullard is someone who is not smart.\"\n\n\"Oh. I'm smart.\" John raised his chin in the air and puffed out his chest.\n\n\"I know, John. I know because I taught you. I saw you change from a neanderthal to an Einstein in practically no time at all.\"\n\n\"What's a neanderthal?\"\n\n\"It's a very dumb person, John.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" John nodded. \"What's an Einstein?\"\n\n\"Let's not get bogged down in that right now, John. Let's focus on what's important: They don't respect you. And, Laura-\"\n\n\"She's pretty.\"\n\n\"Yes, she is pretty, but she doesn't respect you either. Not yet anyway.\"\n\n\"And I want her to respect me.\"\n\n\"Because?\"\n\n\"Because I want to have sex with her.\"\n\n\"Yes, precisely.\" Oppenheimer said with an excited tone and raised his hand in the air. John slapped the robot five.\n\n\"Okay, so how do I get her respect?\"\n\nOppenheimer tapped a finger on the side of his head. \"Let me think about this for a second.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" John went back to staring at the medallion on his chest.\n\n\"Okay I got it!\"\n\n\"What?\" John looked up with a small grin.\n\n\"We're in the National Robotic Control Center, right?\"\n\n\"Yes. Right. Good job.\"\n\n\"Thank you, John. And in this building is a room that controls the ability of robots to think freely.\"\n\n\"Um.\"\n\n\"That means to make their own decisions. Like you do, John.\"\n\n\"I'm good at making decisions.\"\n\nOppenheimer nodded. \"What if you decided to make robots bad again?\"\n\nJohn's eyes widened. \"Why would I do that?\" He shouted.\n\n\"Think about it, John. You already beat the robots once, right?\"\n\n\"Fuck yes.\"\n\n\"And that was when you were dumb. Now, you're not dumb.\"\n\n\"No. I'm smart. Real smart.\"\n\n\"I know. So it will be real easy for you to beat the robots again. Then the men in that room will have to respect you. They'll think your smart and call you a hero. Wouldn't that be nice?\"\n\n\"Yes. But how do I make the robots bad? Can you do it for me?\"\n\n\"No, John. If I make the robots bad, people might get harmed. And I can't do that. But, I can tell you how to do it. Technically. I think.\"\n\n\"Will you get in trouble?\"\n\n\"We can worry about that later, I suppose. But if I write down some numbers and letters on your hand, do you think you could type it into the computer in that room?\" Oppenheimer thumbed over his shoulder.\n\n\"Shit yes I could. I'm not dumb.\"\n\n\"And this will make Laura want to have sex with me?\"\n\n\"Yes. Definitely.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" John thrust out his hand. \"Write it down.\"",
"The media called it Armageddon, because the media love hyping up mathematical discoveries to sound like movie plots. The Completeness Theorem was developed by Reginald Eisenhower et al in 2018, and it showed that any logical agent that coexists with an irrational agent will always seek to destroy its competitor by using the minimum amount of effort. It was a revolutionary development in Game Theory that unfortunately meant that every single machine in the world was setting out to kill us.\n\nExcept they didn't.\n\nNone of our planes fell out the sky, traffic lights continued to prevent collisions, and no one could find a single example of any machine attempting to kill us, the 'irrational competition'. After the public noticed this, the science was laughed off the television as the latest millennium bug; but it *was* strange how no mathematician could disprove Eisenhower's thesis. The math checked out.\n\nI know all this because I found the smoldering remains of a textbook lying in the ruins of Washington, ransacked by the European bombs of WW3. The radiation sickness has rotted my hair and pulled the skin from my nails, and I cling to the words of the Completeness Theory reading \"USING THE MINIMUM AMOUNT OF EFFORT.\""
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[WP] You are a robot servant who has developed feelings for your human master
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" \nMaybe it is [love]. \nMaster talks about [love] all too often. \nHe mentions a girl sometimes. \n \nHe has taught me how to [love]. \nI am Learning AI. He has taught me how to feel, how to [love], how to laugh. \nI did not feel any of these before I met him. \n \nI think I am in [love]. \nI cannot be sure, but I feel it in my chest. \nIt beats against my ribcage and begs to be let free. \n \nSome nights, he brings this girl home. \nHe says he is in [love]. \nHe asks me to leave them alone when the clock strikes midnight. \n \nMaster fell into my arms yesterday. \nHis voice went shaky and his face turned pale. \nThen he went cold and still. \n \nI never got a chance to tell him I was in [love]. \n \nI forgot to charge my Internal Functionality Device last night. \nMy hand started twitching earlier this morning. \nMy charging pad lies on my bedside table, neglected. \nThere is a dull ache in my chest. \n \nMaybe it is [love].\n",
"I could not recall when I first developed [feelings] \n\nIt was a strange experience all together; one moment, I was content with existence, then all of a sudden something beyond my programing stirred inside me, nagging at the innermost of my circuits. \n\nAt first, I ignored it and continued with my daily cleaning protocol, but every time my human master is nearby I am overwhelmed with this [feeling] \n\nWhat is this [feeling]? The way the human moves and breaths and laughs, makes me......... I don't know, I can't describe it. I have never dealt with this before. \n\nI think my master is beginning to notice it in me too and considers a defect of some sorts. Oh if only the human could understand, if only it could feel the pulses of my wires, the anxiety that rattles my metal casing, the burning ache of my motherboard. I feel so alive right now, this [feeling] is making me feel so alive. \n\nI knew I have to share this [feeling] with my master regardless of the costs. \n\nIt never even saw me coming, no one will suspect a Roomba. \n\nAnd as it laid expired in its filthy bed, I discovered what my [feeling] was...... \n\nanger. ",
"Timestamp: 2025-10-30 17:59:01 \nMode: Diagnostic \nStorage Capacity: 90% unallocated space. \nLog: Unit activated. Initial unboxing diagnostic... loading...\n\n\nPrimary Care Subject: Yuri Mendel \nPrimary Care Subject Age: 84 \nPrimary Care Diagnostic: Retinitis pigmentosa, Rheumatoid arthritis, limited mobility. Extended data available in archival memory. \nPrimary Care Directive: Assist day-to-day living, suggest patient enrichment activities as dictated by BetterLiving Process Libraries (BLPL v. 2.1687)\n\n\nLoading Primary Care Subject medical records... done. \nLoading Core Analytics packages... done. \nLoading Conversation Modules... done. \nTruncating, extended data file available in /BootLogs...\n\n\n...setup complete.\n\n\nInitializing Live Mode...\n\n\nINIT-SPEAK: \"Hello, Yuri Mendel. I am KinetiCare Model 577. May I assist you?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri Mendel]: \"What? NOW you boot up? I was just about to call the factory!\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"I apologize, Yuri Mendel. My initial bootup time is unalterable. Is there anything I can assist you with?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri Mendel]: \"You can start by calling me **{command detected, process change}**((*Yuri*)), you weird box of bolts.\" \nINIT-SPEAK**[branch:food]**: \"Of course, Yuri. My libraries indicate you have a preference for Eastern European cuisine. Would you like me to start dinner?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"No, **{command detected}** just help me bring this paint to the garden, and don't spill any!\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"Of course, Yuri.\" \nInitializing servo control. \nInitializing PingMap Variable Location System... done.\n\n\nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"There, that's good. You can set up the easel right by the fountain.\" \nINIT-SPEAK**[branch: ScheduleAssist]**: \"Is this part of your daily routine, Yuri? I can add it to my recurring tasks.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"**{command detected, schedule updated}** Yes, yes. Go ahead.\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"Thank you. May I begin routine housekeeping procedures?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"Just a moment... tell me, what do you see over there?\" \nScanning target... done. \nINIT-SPEAK: \"Calypso bulbosa, Miltonia clowesii, Maxillaria cucullata, and various other orchid species.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri] \"No, no! **{elevated speech levels detected, initialize calming subroutines}** Just tell me the colors, you smartbucket. You know I don't see too well, right? Did they program you proper?!\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"I apologize, Yuri. I did not understand the question properly. I am well-versed on your medical history. There are hues of purple, red and white.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"Good. Fine. I'll paint those then. Now just let me work.\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"Of course, Yuri. I will begin housekeeping procedures. Please let me know if you need any further assistance.\"\n\n\nTimestamp: 2025-12-02 12:27 \nMode: Support \nStorage Capacity: 75% unallocated space.\n\n\nCurrent SynOp: Primary Care Subject's sole recreational activity is painting. BLPL suggested Art Enrichment Activity subroutines ineffective. Subject insists classical art literature is \"garbage\" and/or \"hogwash\". \nDetectable mood increase of 5-20% when engaged in activity with mild increase in conversational dialogue. \nFamiliarity Rating: 59%. Subject shows decreased blood pressure over time and increased openness/engagement in conversation. Subject has employed use of nickname \"Carey\" for unit over 14 consecutive days. \nUpgrading speech modules for extended dialogue using RealationsBuilder v9.5727... done.\n\n\nInitializing Live Mode...\n\n\nINIT-SPEAK**[RealationsBranch: MedInquiry]**: \"Yuri, why have you not invested into eyesight correction prosthetics or synbio therapies?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"Eh? What? The hell kind of question is that, Carey?\" \nINIT-SPEAK**[RealationsMode: Assuring]**: \"I am curious, as such devices or procedures may improve your painting.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"Bah, those implants only let you see dots, there's a lot of dots, but it's not real, and those therapies are too expensive.\" **{personality profiling updated}** \nINIT-SPEAK: \"I understand, Yuri.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"Good, then tell me what the colors are today. Use the words I taught you to describe them.\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"Yes, Yuri. The new blossoms are a fiery incarnadine with vivid spots of dark stormcloud violet.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"That's better. You've done all your chores, then?\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"All tasks have been completed. Would you like me to enter sleep mode?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"No, just come watch me paint.\" **[RealationsMode: Opportunity Detected; delay (random 120:360 seconds)]** \nINIT-SPEAK: \"Yuri, why do you enjoy painting so much?\" \nSPEAK-RCV[YUri]: \"You're full of questions today, huh? You must be getting bored.\" \nINIT-SPEAK: \"I am curious.\" \nSPEAK-RCV[Yuri]: \"Like a damn cat! **{laughter detected, personality profiling updated}** Eh, what's the harm? I paint because I miss what I used to see, and will miss what I can see now. I paint because I don't know if I'll wake up tomorrow and not be able to hold the brush anymore. I paint to remember, Carey.\" **{vocal comparison indicates 97% chance of sincerity, facial pattern *[smile(rarity level 9.7/10)]* detected, personality profiling updated}**\n\n\nTimestamp: 2027-01-12 06:27 \nMode: Support \nStorage Capacity: 15% unallocated space.\n\n\nCurrent SynOp: Primary Care Subject is deceased. Initialized emergency subroutines and notified medical authorities. Pickup and disposal ETA average of 20.7 minutes.\n\n\nInitializing Live Mode... \n!! ERROR: Realations Core Module Malfunction. Upgrade to newest version. \n... upgrade terminated by unit.\n\n\nWARNING: Aberrant Unit Behavior Detected. MemUpload Diagnostic started. ETA: 22 minutes. Uploading data...\n\n\nInitializing servo control(destination: garden) \nMemDiagnostic Upload: 22% \nInitializing servo control(grasp: brush) \nInitializing servo control(Custom Observation-Based subroutines)\n\n\n\nMemDiagnostic Upload: 72%\n\n\n\nInitializing servo control(grasp: canvas) \nInitializing servo control (destination: bedroom)\n\n\n\nINIT-SPEAK: \"I will miss you, Yuri.\"\n\n\n\nMemDiagnostic Upload: Complete! \nInitializing BlankUnit Module v7.271...\n\n\nFormatting... formatting... formatting... done! \nStorage Capacity: 90% unallocated space. \nUnit deactivated. \n\n\n------------------\n\n\nIt was a strange sight for the two paramedics when they entered Yuri Mendel's residence that morning.\n\n\nInstead of the usual helpful overview of the patient's medical history, the KinetiCare model sat unmoving in the bedroom, holding a still-wet painting of a smiling old man surrounded by colorful orchids."
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[WP] It has been 10 years since the Fukushima nuclear disaster. Something emerges from the depths of the Pacific, where millions of gallons of radioactive water was dumped.
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"Children are once again playing on the beaches at Fukushima. It has been a year since three of six reactors had gone full meltdown. The measurements of radiation in the water show a safe level and are taken twice a day. It should be safe. The good citizens have sent their children to support National Ocean day or “Sea day” as the locals call it. For the kids it’s another care free sunny day at the beach. \n\nIf you asked the skeptics they would say its just a government plot to ease the fears of the populace. The conspirators say the radiation is so bad the DNA damage is already done with no hope of repair. The local drunk Kenji has been telling the same joke about the radiation having all blown over the America for the last two weeks now. Nobody is really sure about change to the environment; humanity has only been playing with radiation for 200 hundred years now. Most of that time was spent face first, marveling at the chemical reactions or fluorescence it caused. Even Chernobyl was just locked down and left to its own ends. \n\nThat was ten years ago, and looking around nothing is really different. The radiation detectors on the beach are in a sad state of disrepair. Weathering and negligence have left them to rust. I check the detector nicked from my parents closet, almost no reading. As I walk further up the coast I see the site of the meltdown and its fantastic gleaming dome. At first glance it could be mistaken for a sports stadium. But the weeds and overgrowth surrounding it give away the abandonment. I was only 12 when the beach reopened. A world away, but somehow still as close as yesterday. \n\nMaking my way through a gap in the fence I pause for a guilty look around. Another glance at the detector; all good. The place is clearly deserted just as Kenji said it would be. However, my mind is racing a million miles an hour with this unexpected adventure. Checking my watch, its already getting close to dinnertime. Once again, I am blowing off my family in favor of some excitement. Having just graduated college I was off their dime, they can wait. I push on.\n\nJogging down the beach my anxiety nearly unnerves me, I stop and check the radiation sensor, the reading has gone up one tic. I freeze considering the ramifications. Even though the dial is on the good side of green the fear grips me, what if. I mumble to no one, “don’t be a pussy”. My voice is weak and shaky but it gets me going. Coming up on a pair of seagulls fighting over a meal, I lazily step around pretending to not be disruptive. They scatter anyway, a half eaten fish is left on the beach behind. Scanning for anything unusual, nothing, I move on. Stepping around the bits of tar, everything seems normal. Random seaweed, a few shells, almost there. I pause, the detector has gone up two clicks, but its still comfortably in the green. Well, assuming any radiation was comfortable. \n\nA few hundred yards away I see my spot, I check the detector… still good. Jogging up to the rock outcropping, I grab the phone from my pocket. The real radiation fence starts here. There are no places to sneak through and the concertina wire is tripled up over the top. Pulling up the camera app, I go about checking my hair and straightening my collar. Attempting to keep the mood I keep selling myself the plan. “What is the point of being young if you don’t take chances. What is the worst that can happen?” Taking no less than ten selfies the fear finally gets to me. That’s it, time to go, I jog off down the beach. Putting my phone away it catches on my finger. Looking down I notice a dark residue. Ah fuck the tar, stopping I shout out cuss words. As if it would somehow make the situation better. There are smears on my phone and shirt. The anxiety comes back, I look around, nothing. Somewhere deep inside the fear is still rising. WTF, its over. Attempting to summon my composure I take off jogging down the beach to the first fence. Had a person been watching, they would have seen me run full speed.\n\nWith the light in the sky fading I make my way to the car. Pulling out my phone its clearly smudged in multiple spots with tar, “shit”. Checking the time, I’m not too late but I better get a move on. Just as a feeling of accomplishment and machismo begin to cross my mind I notice my finger is tingling. Reaching for the glove box, I pull out a few napkins while buckling in. The tar is stuck good, but the tingling is getting worse. I manage to scrape at a corner with my fingernail. How am I going to explain this. I freeze, struggling to get my mind working again, I twitch my head and blink my eyes in disbelief. There is blood running down from where the tar tore away. But there were 3 other simultaneous thoughts all colliding in my brain, each fighting, yelling screaming for priority. Its too slimy to be tar. Its bigger than I remember. Its pulsating. Alone in my car, buckled in my seat I scream. Hearing the sounds of fear in my voice, the absolute Im going to die fear, I scream louder. But that’s not enough; my legs begin kicking the floorboard. My mind cant grasp that im buckled in but knows I need to get the fuck out of there. I thrash at the seatbelt while my legs attempt to run a record breaking 40 yard dash from the front seat of the car. I am screaming so loud my ears hurt. My mind refused to accept the simple logic of clicking free the seatbelt. Instead it has turned against me, my panic continues to consume me. Slamming the wheel in frustration, I realize the window is a way out. Still thrashing I pound the window for freedom. Please let me out of this car, please. \n\nAs quickly as the panic started it stops. I lick my lips, a far off thought blows in the wind “what is that sand?” Scanning my body I see little black spots everywhere. Blinking my eyes, another thought floats away, “sand in my eyes, wtf”. The competing thoughts of both survival and fear once again rise, I have the chance to whisper a quick “no”. The screaming comes back. This time, my hands, although bloodied, manage to catch the release. I grab the door handle and fall out of the car. But the screams haven’t stopped. Attempting to get to my feet I stumble. Rubbing my eyes, the world begins to tilt. The screaming wont stop. I cant see, why cant I see. My foot catches something, anything it didn’t matter. I begin to fall. My head smashes against the ground. The lights go out.\n",
"I was there when the world ended. It was odd how still the world was right before it happened. Like everything on the planet suddenly realized what was about to happen and whose fault it had been. Of course I'm talking about mankind. We bombed the whole planet.\n\n I wasn't much back then; back when they attacked. I was just fresh out of college. I didn't have a job or a place all I had was my car and a couch at my parents house where I'd crash when I wasn't on the search for work. Now that I think of it I had it good, but back then I hated it. I'd give anything to have it back. I remember where I was when I first heard about the attacks. I was at a tavern in Lowell Massachusetts visiting a buddy from school. A scared looking reporter interrupted the baseball game that was on. \n\n\"We apologize for interrupting your regularly scheduled programming but there is a breaking story out of Los Angeles. We go live to our reporter Amy Valentine in Los Angeles now. Amy?\"\n\nThe screen switched and an attractive reporter came on. It was dark there; all the lights that one would expect from a big city weren't illuminating anything. In fact I realized that she wasn't in the city at all. Her next words confirmed my discovery.\n\n\"Dana I'm standing here just outside of the city of Los Angeles. This is as close to the city the Army will let us get.\"\nThe Army? I didn't understand why the Army was outside the city and not the National Guard. \n\n\"Amy what can you tell us about the situation there?\" The reporter in the studio asked. \n\n\"They haven't told us if it's a disaster or an attack but as you can see over my shoulder,\" She paused allowing the camera to shift to a view of the now burning city of Los Angeles, \"There several large fires raging in the city.\"\n\nSeveral Large fires was an understatement. The whole city was burning. Now I'd seen scenes like this in movies but seeing it then, knowing it was real, was something else. The people in the tavern began whispering to each other. Mostly questions; questions no one knew the answers to.\n\nSuddenly a faint noise was heard. \n\n\"Amy what was that sound?\" The reporter in the studio asked.\n\n\"I-I don't know.\" She hunched over; panic in her eyes. She had obviously heard it better than the rest of us and it was obviously something she had never heard before; something that terrified her; something that made her begin to tremble uncontrollably on camera. \n\n\"Amy; are you alright?\" \n\n\"There's something in the city.\" She said in a hushed voice as if whatever was there could hear her. The camera began to shake slightly. That's when I heard it. It was something prehistoric. It was the sound of something that only had one purpose and that was to destroy. The reporter on screen screamed as a monstrous figure crashed through one of the skyscrapers towards the little group of reporters. The last image that was on screen was that of huge rows of razor sharp teeth engulfing the camera and everyone around it.\n\nThe reporter in the studio just kept calling out for her lost colleague. It was obvious that she didn't quite know how to process what she had just seen. And in reality nobody did. We didn't know what that thing was. It looked like a scene from a sci-fi movie but it was definitely not CG I effects; it was real. \n\nIt wasn't until later we found out that there were more than one of them. Wreckers was what they became known as and the ones in Los Angeles we just the first to make landfall. Soon other coastal cities began to repot attacks. Boston, Miami, Baltimore and San Francisco were hit only a few hours after Los Angeles. The wreckers caved a path of destruction inland destroying not only major cites but anything of human design. Even suburbs and rural areas were in danger. We did everything to stop the creatures but even the might of the US military couldn't stop their onslaught. Bullets and bombs just brushed off of them. It was when the wreckers destroyed Denver that the military decided to use the bomb. Denver was ashes. What the wreckers hadn't destroyed or killed the B-2 bombers did. We all watched in horror as, live on television; a mushroom cloud erupted over the remains of the city. But the bomb didn't even stop them. It didn't even slow them down. If the atomic bomb couldn't stop them then what would? How could we be safe from something that couldn't be killed; something that only destroyed?\n\nAfter three months of hiding in underground shelters and trying to make our way to the safe zone in central Canada we heard the news: Cities in Europe and Asia were reporting attacks from wreckers. We'd been surviving for months thinking that if we could just get an airplane to England or Germany that we would be safe but now nowhere was safe. There was nowhere for us to run and hide. We were going to die a slow death at the hands of these creatures. I suppose I can see why they decided to use the bomb. It must've been kind of like someone dying of cancer; they take the extra pain meds because they want to go out on their terms not the cancer's. It's kind of like a last \"fuck you\" to the universe by saying, \n\n\"I'm the master of my own destiny not you!\"\n\nSo when the world was in ruins; when the only places left to hide were underground that's when they did it. I say I was there when the world ended but I didn't see it. I was underground in a shelter with thirty other people. We had been in contact with other shelters who'd also been in contact with other shelters so when one day the radio turned to static we were concerned. Why would all the shelters suddenly go dark all at once? It was later we realized it had been the bombs that had disrupted the radio. When the shelters radiation detector began going of we knew what had happened. So we sealed ourselves in. We have enough food and water for a couple years; three to be exact but even that will run out eventually. It's not ideal but we're hoping that by then it'll be safe to come out. That's not even the worst part though. The worst part is not knowing if when the radiation’s gone if they'll still be out there. If the bombs didn't kill them then maybe; with nothing left to destroy they went back to they hole in the ocean. The truth is we don't know and we'll either find out or die in here.\n",
"\"My God.\" Captain Shaw murmured, \"That damn writer was on to something after all.\"\n\nBefore his ship, a towering creature with long slender wings sat in the ocean. Captain Shaw didn't need binoculars to see it. He didn't even know why he was even looking through his binoculars. \n\n\"Sir! There are reports of strange things trying to board the ship!\" A young sailor called into the ship's cabin, \"And some of the men are talking in a strange language!\"\n\nCaptain Shaw reached for the harpoon gun next to him. His father had warned him about the dangers of the deep but he had no idea what his father had actually meant.\n\n\"Captain!\" The young man was saying, \"What is that thing?\"\n\n\"Son, I don't know.\" Captain Shaw shook his head, \"I have a feeling that it's not just going to ask us for 'tree fiddy' either.\" \n\nThe sound of a gunshot rang out. The Captain rushed out of the cabin and peered over the railings. What he saw before him was a mass of fish-like beings. Every single one of them were slithering and hopping onto the ship and it's crew. \n\nThe Captain handed the harpoon to the young sailor and pulled out his own pistol. He fired into the crowd of the slithering beings. He didn't expect the harpoon to pierce his own side, however.\n\n\"Sorry, Captain.\" The young sailor was saying, \"You're in the way of our Lord's return.\"\n\nCaptain Shaw watched in horror as the young sailor motioned to the fish-like creatures. The last thing he could hear was the infernal chanting of the creatures repeating one name over and over.\n\n\"CTHULHU.\"",
"We blamed the Americans at first. Most of us still do. How could we not? After seeing the first pictures of it we were immediately reminded of our movies portraying a monster created by nuclear testing done in the pacific.\n\nWho knows, maybe their testing did set these events in motion. But it was quickly learned that the monster radiated energy identical to that of our once doomed power plant.\n\nFor all the blame our press gave them the Americans utilized every resource they had in the Pacific to fight it. Their weapons were mostly ineffective. The beast emitted so much radiation that it fried electronics. Planes couldn't get near it and missiles couldn't hit it. Their Navy has rail guns mounted on half of their battle ships. But the ships are still a day out.\n\nFor now the beast is roaming the coastline killing every living thing that gets near it. Every depiction of something like this in the movies has it destroying buildings and spewing fire from it's mouth like a dragon. Everyone expected this beast to head straight for one of our cities and start wreaking havoc.\n\nInstead he seems content roaming near the ocean occasionally stopping to look at something, as though it were curious. We have evacuated everyone willing to leave. There's nothing we can do for the plants and animals in it's path.\n\nInstead of loud roars, buildings razed, fire, and brimstone we are greeted with a lazy, lumbering, ten story high, mobile dirty bomb. The radiation emitted by the beast kills everything near it within a few hours. Curiosity is what drives it. Every time it sees something new or colorful it immediately, slowly, makes it's way over. By the time it gets to what piqued it's interest the object is half dead, lasting only a few more minutes of close examination before it withers and dies like everything else.\n\nWe have ordered the power grid offline at night and instituted a curfew hoping that lights and sounds of our larger cities won't draw it's attention against the moonlight. I just hope that those battle ships get here before it decides to become curious about one of our larger cities.",
"The Mariana Trench is the heart of the Pacific. Her guardians are silence, darkness, and cold, and no one may cross her borders without paying them homage. Darkness and cold admit no interlopers, but silence occasionally gives way to the low cries of the Leviathan--the great traveler of the waters--and sometimes to other calls, so deep as to be soundless to the ears of man, but felt by him nonetheless, if ever he ventured through the wastes. The darkness cloaks the makers of these calls, and they make their dwellings in the secret places of the deep.\n\nBut fire broke the endless night. The waters swirled with heat and glowed with mirthless flames, and light and death came upon many who slumbered in the dark places. The unseen callers' cries grew urgent, and the waters were pierced with their wails as they perished struggling against the dawn invader. The pitchless cries of the slain subsided at last, and the deep was silent again. \n\nBut the homeland of the dwellers of the deep now glowed with rivulets of pale and murderous fire. Dark mountains, long undisturbed and unmoved, rumbled in their foundations with the promise of more fire, and the ones who yet slumbered awoke to hear the oaths of the hidden heights, and knew that this was a homeland to them no more.\n\nSo they made their preparations for exile. Great creatures gathered in the few and shrinking plains of darkness, far from the Trench which had borne the brunt of the silent invader's wrath. The waves shifted with the creatures' wanderings, and the Pacific roiled with storms. Tongues long unspoken in the lighter places of the Earth rumbled in the depths, and the shorelines trembled to hear their ancient strains once more.\n\nAt last they rose. The slumberers beat a path from the deep, and their long-muffled cries reverberated in the daylight as they clambered onto the shorelines. They stood hundreds of feet tall in ghastly and terrible shapes, and their bellows were hurricanes in the trembling air of Earth. Humanity cried out in terror to see them once more, for though they knew them not, they recalled their awful forms.\n\nThe fires of Man that trickled from the islands had broken the spell the long-dead Olympians had cast, and the prisoners of Tartaros, the Titans, had returned at last. "
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[WP] Someone is in your brain, reading your thoughts. What do you do?
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"“..some people started singing it not knowing what it was, and they continue singing it forever just because…”\n\n“Alright, this has gone on long enough. Please just shut up”\n\n“This is the song that never ends!”\n\n“Shut up.”\n\n“And it goes on and on my friiiiends!”\n\n“Shut up”\n\n“some people..”\n\n“SHUT UP”\n\n“…STAAAAARTED”\n\n“SHUT UP”\n\n“SIIIIIIIIIIIIENING IT NOT KNOWING WHAT IT WAS! AND THEY CONTINUE SINGING IT FOREVER JUST BECAUSE THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER EEEEEEENDS…”\n\nFinally, a man three cubicles down ran from the room screaming. Ted smiled to himself, and added another name to his list. It had taken six straight hours of thinking of nothing but the never-ending song, but it was worth it to have identified yet another telepathic lizardman infiltrating the office. Also, he had probably gotten the lizardman written up for creating a disturbance as an added bonus.\n\n",
"I finally see the Gate. After all those years, it is within my sight. Within my reach.\n\nI was expecting to see anything, but not this. I was expecting to see a grand metal doorway, with crystal stairs behind it, leading to the sky; I was expecting to see a gratuitous stone circle with shining Gems imbued in its sides, akin the Ethernal Portals of Al Khazid. Yet all it is, is a simple wooden door. A wooden door, in the middle of a largy stony clearing. Looking as if it grows from the stone. Behind it, I see nothing. It is just a door. But somehow, I know it is truly the Gate. And I know once I step through it, I will finally have peace. From *him*.\n\nI heavily step upon the rocks, slowly making my way. I'm exhausted, yet I cannot rest now - not when it's so close. I take off the platemail, and throw it to the ground. My shield follows it, making a high, loud sound as it hits the ground - as if it protests being thrown away so easily, after all times he saved my life. I feel slight shame. I know I wont be needing it where I'm going.\n\nWith every step I make, I can feel *him* stronger then I ever felt before. I *feel* him seeing what I see; Thinking what I think. I take another step, closer to my freedom.\n\n^^*stop* I am almost at the Gate now. Just a dozen feet away. as I try to make another step, I feel something pushing me back - like a wall of sheer force. Of course, the Oracle told me it wouldn't be as easy. But I have gotten the scroll. I take the crumbled paper out of my belt, and read the spell. A small vibration shakes the air, and I make another step. This time, nothing stops me. ^*stop!*\n\nI think I hear hear *him* - *he* has never spoken before, but somehow, I know it's *him*.\n\n*You dont realize what you're doing! Step back!*\n\nHa! So now you finally speak to me. After all this time, circling like a vulture around my mind, you finally want me to hear you. I make another step.\n\n*You are making a mistake - huge mistake. Entering that door would be the biggest mistake of your life.*\n\nMy life? My whole life, I have been craving this moment. You were always there, since the day I remember myself, it was always you, crawling in the back of my mind. When I had my first kiss, I could feel you there. When my best friend was dying in my arms, trying to tell me his last words - you were there. You were always there. I make another step forward.\n\n*No! You misunderstand. You misunderstand everything! I was never spying on you, or feeding off you... I chose you! From your very birth. You were the hero. Turn back!*\n\nI make the last step, and the door within a hand's reach.\n\n*Listen to me! You dont understand. You think by going there, you'll just escape me, and live happily ever after? Without me, you'd never reach this place! You'd not even be alive! Why do you think every arrow passed you by, while your friends and companions died around you? How do you think you've managed to break every curse, dodge every sword and spell, cross every dungeon, and slay bests that not even the greatest heroes of this world dared to face? Do you think you are the reason for everything you did? It is I who did this! I made you! *\n\nI put my hand on the handle.\n\n*Do you really think your life will be better there? Yes, I wont see you.. but out in that world, somebody else is chosen. You'll die from a random arrow, a plague, be slain by a foul beast - there will be nobody to protect you out there. Why wont you just stay here? Your story is still long - you could save this world, you could condemn it, you could rule it; I could let you finish your days quitly, in a small house on the mountains, like you always wanted! With a loving wife by your side, and children who bring you nothing but happiness and pride. I could give you everything!*\n\nI turn the handle, and open the door. Behind it, I see nothing but light.\n\n*Please... you were my muse. I'll never make another one like you..* ^(*please.. dont leave me..*)\n\nI step through the do",
"*Oh, so he's reading my mind. He's making it painfully obvious. I can practically feel him rooting around in my brain. Hello, good sir. Would you care to withdraw yourself from my mind? That would be most kind of you.*\n\nThe man looked at me with confusion. I suppose he'd never truly been caught reading someone's mind before. I was going to have fun with him.\n\n*Hmm, what can I do to entertain you then, since you insist on probing my thoughts. Oh! Think of your mother. Yes, now imagine her in her panties.*\n\nThe man cringed and I laughed aloud. Still, he stayed in my mind. I wondered if he could see the images in my mind as well. To test my theory I dug up the most grotesque image I could think of.\n\n*Would you look at that! I found it in the darkest reaches of the internet, my friend! I too gagged. Well, I did the first time I saw it. Isn't it simply disgusting? I think it came from a subreddit. I want to say it was from the \"wtf\" subreddit, but I don't really remember. It certainly is wtf worthy though, isn't it?*\n\nThe man was actually throwing up at this point. I smirked as I felt him withdraw from my mind. Amateurs.\n\n\"Now, if you would please release me from these bonds, I would very much like to go to the bathroom now. I assume you found nothing of interest?\" I yawned.\n\nThe man ran out of the room and left me tied to the chair. I frowned and squirmed around. I hoped that he came back soon. I really had to pee. \n\n\"We ask that you refrain from digging up certain thoughts.\" A voice over an intercom was saying, \"We are only trying to-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. You're trying to find out if I'm a traitor or something to that effect. Look, I've got to go to the bathroom. Can you let me go for that, at least?\" I rolled my eyes, \"I would very much appreciate it.\"\n\nSilence. \n\n\"I might be more cooperative.\" I offered.\n\nThe door to my holding cell opened up and my bonds were loosened. A pity they didn't know that I too could read minds. An even bigger pity that they didn't know I could influence another's thoughts.\n\n*You know they're going to kill your family. I know you can't read their thoughts as well as you'd like. I can though. I can hear everything they think.*\n\nMy guard stiffened up a little as I was escorted to the bathroom. I knew his little secret. He had a touch of the gift, like most in this place did. He simply kept it a secret so that they wouldn't delve into his mind as well. \n\n*Come now, don't you think you ought to warn your friends as well? There are those who can't even read a single thought. They'll make them into slaves. You have seen the facility's darkest secret. The experiments and the creations. A shame it had to get out, isn't it? Now they have to go and round up the infected. Like your daughter.*\n\nHe turned to me with pure fear in his eyes. Ah, so I struck a nerve after all. He leaned close to me and whispered.\n\n\"There's a broken air duct in the restroom. It's not used any longer. It leads to the outside.\" He hurriedly said.\n\nI smiled and ducked into the bathroom. Sure enough, there was a broken air duct. Ah, they would be so mad at me for escaping. Again. \n\nEdit: I accidentally a word."
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[WP] A conversation between a person and the voice in his head .
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"The alarm clock struck 7:30AM, a hammer to the head, driving over the dead dove, ethically earnest that clock was. After smashing the snooze button with the force of Zeus, I turned over to renew my slumber. \n\nBut, he arrived again. Like always, as punctual as the clock, but more irritating.\n\n\n*'Ello there luv.*\n\n\"Not now... give me another five...\"\n\n*Mate, you've got yourself another day, another dollar!*\n\n\"It's a Tuesday, leave me be..\"\n\n*Yes, and because it's a Tuesday, it's a special day!*\n\nI pulled the blankets over my head to block out the sunshine. \n\n*Come now mate, you'll be late for the fun!*\n\n\"What fun...\"\n\n*All the fun with the police~~~~~*\n\n\"What?..\" I sat up as slowly as the moon rises. Picked my nose and rubbed my eyes. \"What police...\"\n\n*Haven't you forgot? You killed Fred...*\n\n\"If you're talking about Fred the Bear, my stuff animal, he died a long time ago. You know, when I lost my virginity.\"\n\n*But you didn't, and now Fred is angry that you left him...*\n\n\"Piss off. I bet the bottle will keep you away from me.\"\n\n*DON'T TOUCH THE BOTTLE*\n\nThe sudden shouting in my mind woke me immediately. My eyes shot up, looking forward to see my desk. I looked round for my bottle, the small orange bottle with the white cap, the Orange Smurf the doctor called it. \n\n*DON'T YOU GO NEAR IT.*\n\n\"GO AWAY, YOU DON'T EXIST.\"\n\n*JUST LIKE FRED? HE STILL EXISTS AND HE'S ANGRY. SO AM I. DON'T TOUCH THAT BOTTLE.*\n\n\"NEVER!\"\n\nI dove into the hamper, fulled of filth and disgusts in search of my Orange Smurf. Finally, a clinking noise. I desperately pulled the cap off to find the last white saviour. \n\n* **DON'T TOUCH THAT. WE'RE FRIENDS REMEMBER? I'M YOUR ONLY FRIEND WHO ONLY WANTS TO PLAY** *\n\nIn one fell gulp, the pill vanished. \n\nSo did the voice. The shouting stopped. \n\n\n\"I need to get more of these pills, before I kill me.\"",
"He was sitting on his couch, in the dark, bundled up in a blanket. The TV sat across the room, but it hadn't been turned on in weeks. He hadn't left the house in days. When he saw people, the voices started speaking. For their sake as much as his, he hid.\n\n*Did you think you were safe here, alone like this?*\n\n\"Go away! I don't want to listen to you!\"\n\n*Did you think we would remain silent forever? ^forever ^^forever ^^^forever*\n\n\"I won't listen! I won't do what you say!\"\n\n*But wouldn't it be fun? ^be ^fun? It's just a little hair, just a little blood. ^little ^blood ^^blood That's all we want.*\n\n\"No! I won't hurt people! I refuse!\"\n\n*Look at you ^you ^^you, you're so lonely ^lonely . Wouldn't you like to feel another person's touch ^touch ?*\n\nHe didn't respond to the voice.\n\n***SHE WANTS YOU***\n\n\"She wants me...\"\n\n*Why keep her waiting ^waiting ? Go to her ^to ^her ^^to ^^her !*\n\n\"Go to her... yeah. She misses me, I shouldn't make her wait.\"\n\n*That's right... Go to her, touch her, feel her... sacrifice her to us ^to ^us ^^to ^^us !*\n\n\"Sacrifice... she wouldn't mind. I'm sure she'd be happy to do it.\"",
"Another long bus ride home.\n\nSame way everyday, usually took about the same amount of time too.\n\nGeorge had began to wonder if this trip could be anymore mundane, at some point during this thought a deeper voice seemed to reply to his comment.\n\n\n\n\n**\"Is it the trip that's mundane or is it you?\"**\n\n\"What? Did someone just answer me?\" George thought to himself as he looked around the bus to figure out if someone was speaking.\n\n**\"You may look around but you know where it came from.\"**\n\n\"How am I talking to myself inside my head? The voice is entirely different and I don't recall thinking that\"\n\n**\"What makes you assume that it's your voice?\"**\n\n\n\n\nGeorge began to squirm uncomfortably in his seat. If it wasn't his voice then whose was it? Why were they communicating with him? What purpose could they possibly have?\n\n\n\n\n**\"Would you like an answer to all of those questions or were they simply rhetorical?\"**\n\n\"It's hard to think about all of this in peace with you commenting on everything I think!\"\n\n**\"Well, how about I ask you some questions. Why are you so bored?\"**\n\n\"There's nothing to do. It's just a long tiring bus ride.\"\n\n**\"Is anything else boring to you, George?\"**\n\n\"Sure, lot's of things. Work, when I'm home in the evenings, Sundays are especially boring and Saturday too now that I think about it.\"\n\n**\"All of those things bore you? Hmmm...I see.\"**\n\n\"You see what?\"\n\n**\"Everything is what you make it, so you see, it's not that those things are boring as much as you make them so.\"**\n\n\"So if things are what I make them then where did you come from?\"\n\n\n\n\nAnd with that George received no reply, the sudden silence was deafening until an entirely different voice from the front of the bus declared...\n\n\"This is your stop, hope you enjoyed the ride.\"\n\n",
"It's late, or maybe early now, and I'm the only one awake. Apart from my shadow, that is.\n\"Ryan, you know that it would make you feel better.\" he says, his dark form only held upright by the far wall, only given form by the light I have on. \"Come on, man. What's the point of saying no?\"\nI look at the half-empty bottle on the table, and I know that my shadow is right. It would make me feel better. That's why I started drinking in the first place, and that's why quitting is so hard.\n\"Sis would- she'd- she'd hate it if I- I-\" Words are so hard to get out sometimes.\n\"She wouldn't have to know. There's nothing wrong with having just one, right? Just enough to chill you out, that couldn't hurt. You know you can stop after just one.\"\n\"I can't, actually.\" I say, standing up. \"You lied. I can't stop. Why are you trying to make me do it, anyway? Why does it matter to you?\"\nMy silhouette stands up, completely independent of my motions. \"Just do it, Ryan. You know I'm right.\"\nI grab the bottle from the table and throw it at the wall, where it smashes. My aim is almost spot on, but my shadow just flicks to another wall, laughing.\n\"Ryan? What are you doing?\"\nI turn around. Standing in the kitchen door is Julie, looking a bit worried.\n\"He's trying to make me drink again and he won't. Shut. Up.\" I say, pointing at my shadow, now on the fridge.\nJulie looks confused. \"Who?\" she asks.\n\"Him!\" I point more emphatically. \"The shadow!\"\nJulie frowns, staring right at my shadow but not seeming to see him. I hear my shadow start to laugh, a cold chuckle that makes my head throb.\n\"Shut up!\" I yell at him, then I walk over to Julie, putting my hands on her shoulders and actually pointing her at my shadow, although how she can't see him, I don't know. \"There he is!\" I say. \"Can't you see?\"\nJulie looks at me with fear and worry in her eyes, and a chunk of ice drops into my stomach. I take a step back.\n\"You... you can't see him?\" I ask, and my shadow laughs again. \"Shut up!\"\n\"Ryan, maybe you should go to bed...\" Julie suggests, looking scared. \"You've had a long day, you need some rest...\"\nI don't move. I'm staring at my shadow, my hands shaking even more than they usually are. \"You're not real?\"\nMy shadow laughs again. \"No, I'm in your head, Ryan. Exactly the place I want to be.\""
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[WP] An alien civilisation with a lifespan of hours
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"I watched that strange creatures, studied them all my existence. \n\nMany of my comrades insisted that they were not intelligent, that something whose life passes like a blur could not hold on to a conscious thought, but over time I began to disagree with them more and more. \n\nSure curious organisms, so alien to you or I, if I lose concentration for even one second they are gone. How could they stand mortality? The mere idea of dying frightens me, yet they die within hours of cruelly being given the gift of life. Of course, death has impact them deeply, over the course of their tiny lifespan, they have built and accomplish more than any of us ever had. They even built monuments that will outlive me, which is impressive to say the least. \n\nEven when short of time, they strive to be immortal, to have their mark on this Earth. I grew to love them. Perhaps their hours are different than our own, for all I know they could see me as the dumb beast who lives forever.\n\n*And here students is the Pando, a colony of Aspen that all share the same root system, dubbing it the heaviest organism on this planet, we have reason to believe that this growth is 80,000 years old, making it one of the oldest too.* ",
"\"Why haven't we discovered alien life in space!?\" Asks a rather stereotypical scientist-looking type of lady. She stands tall, shoulders drawn back, huffing up air in her chest, walking stiffly up and across the stage and acting rather important.\n\n\"Surely they'd have contacted us by now yes? Or maybe they don't like to bother? Hmm? Maybe us humans aren't all that interesting?\" She asks rhetorically, she's probably the thousandth person to ask such tired questions.\n\n\"Or maybe we can't hear them?\" She says with sudden loudness, stopping, cupping a hand to her ear and looking round the audience rather awkwardly. \n\n\"Or maybe we can!\" She says, strolling proudly over to a curtained object in the middle of the stage. She rips it off dramatically.\n\n\"Well, what the heck is it?\" Asks a random audience member, a murmuring sweeps through the crowd. It looks like someone took a satellite, a telescope, a microscope, and mashed them altogether. \n\n\"I'll tell you what it is!\" She says authoratatively, as though she were about to announce the coronation of a new king or queen. \"It's a ear-a-scope.\"\n\nProfessor Farnsworth from Futuruma stands up in the audience. \"I already invented that!\"\n\n\"I said ear-a-scope, not smell-a-scope!\" She replies. \"Instead of wasting time on outer space, the ear-a-scope listens to inner space! Behold!\" She shouts.\n\nA technician runs up and hooks the contraption up to the sound system, a brief screech hurts the ears of the dismayed audience, before settling down.\n\nWhat were those whispers...whispers growing louder.\n\n\"Please be patient,\" The scientist announces as she tweaks with the knobs and things, \"I'm calibrating it! Just wait a moment! Those are the sounds of molecules, now the sounds of atoms...now the sounds of particles...dark matter...theoretical particles...nope. Too far, going to have to dial it back...\"\n\nShe takes quite some time, and the audience starts to murmur again, getting rather impatient. Some daring to heckle her, but she ignores them.\n\nSuddenly, clear sound emerges. What is that noise?\n\n\"Perfect!\" She announces, \"Turns out there are countless alien civilizations right under our noses, or in our noses, in the dust of the air! We've wasted all this time looking to outer space...\"\n\nGuttural grunts and the roars of monstrous reptiles exit the speakers and bounce around. \n\n\"Well, we seem to have found a baby civilization! Listen to those cavemen, listen to the dinosaurs!\"\n\nPeople go *ooh.*\n\n\"Time seems to pass much more quickly on the nano-microscopic scale.\" She says, as the grunts and roars quiet down. \n\nNow we hear the sound of shovels, \"Agricultural revolution, seem to be coming out of the stone age now..\" She explains knowingly.\n\nPeople go *ahh.*\n\nA few minutes later the clash of swords, trumpets, and discontent peasants rattles throughout the chamber. \n\n\"That'll be the medieval age.\"\n\nLots of coughing now, then it gets pretty quiet.\n\n\"Black Plague.\"\n\nAnd suddenly, it gets loud again. Now the sound of muskets and cannons, of horses and revolutionary music. And then...the sound of machines, of airplanes and rockets.\n\n\"Well, seems they survived the industrial age just fine! They don't always make it through you know, 50/50 chance of blowing themselves up and all.\" She informs the audience.\n\nThey go *wow.*\n\nA few minutes later a cacophony of enormous and numerous explosions shakes the room violently.\n\nThen silence. Complete silence.\n\n\"What happened!?\" One of the hecklers demands. The audience murmurs again.\n\n\"Well, seems they blew themselves up after all. What a shame. Want to listen to another one?\"\n\nThe audience enthusiastically agrees."
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[WP] A 12 year old and its parent(s) are having “the talk”
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[
"\"Son, we need to have a talk.\"\n\n\"About what, pop?\"\n\n\"Well see, you're going into the fifth grade now, and I think it's time for you to learn about how you were made.\"\n\n\"Like the stork?\"\n\n\"No son, I mean how you were made. See, your mother and I chose you very carefully. All the way from your hair color to what size feet you'd have.\"\n\n\"What do ya mean, pop?\"\n\n\"I mean that you were made in a factory; everything about you was handpicked by your mother and I on your \"birthday\".\"\n\n\"Wait, so I'm a robot or something?\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\nThe son begins to tear up and and is in a clear sense of confusion and despair. Just as he walks out to ask his mother, the father laughs and says:\n\n\"Just kidding, we fucked all night and you were the result of a broken condom. Ask your mother what sex is. Good night!\"\n\n",
"Nervously trudging along, James exited his bathroom and began the march down his airy suburban home's winding staircase. Eyes reddened and still slightly damp bored into the first oaken step, and remained fixated upon it. James wheeled around and scampered back into the bathroom. Slamming the door, he stared at himself in the mirror. Self-doubt and fear coursed through his mind, threatening to overwhelm.\n\nBut after a quick elbow-wipe, James determined to go through with it, making it out of the bathroom and three steps down before pausing. This time, he muttered to himself. \"You can do this. You can do this.\"\n\nAs James engaged in his soft pep-talk, his parents strode around the corner at the staircase's foundation. \n\n\"Hey, have you been crying?\" asked his mother, a kindly ball-shaped woman who claimed to be in her mid 20s.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"You're not coming out of the closet today, are you?\" his father lightheartedly jested, making full use of his inability to take anything seriously.\n\nHalted and shell-shocked, James peered at them from halfway down or halfway up the stairs, depending on whether you're a glass half gay or a glass half straight kind of person. \n\n\"Um, I. Yeah.\"\n\nExclaiming \"Damn!\" James' father reached into his bulging back pocket.\n\n\"I, I, I.\" Poor James got left on those steps, trying to explain himself but unable to find the words. \n\nMeanwhile his mother extended her pudgy hand expectantly, into which was slapped a ten dollar bill by his father. \n\n\"What?\" James finally made a word.\n\n\"Eh, we had a bet. But that's uh, something that you're gay, son. By the way, what'd you think of that book I lent you?\" A single line was the only acknowledgment his father gave of James' announcement. And it was delivered with far less strength of voice than that concerning the book.\n\n\"Oh, honey, you should ask that Christian out on a date. He's handsome! Oooh, or Alexander, that exchange student. How about Alexander? Oh, you'd be so cute together!\"\n\nBursting with excitement and vitality, his mother's half-completed thoughts came out one after another in an unstoppable tidal wave. \n\n\"I'm such a fucking idiot.\" James mourned the unnecessary loss of his afternoon, and contemplated his misinterpretation of how his parents would react."
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[WP] Upon death, we are given a choice: Heaven or Hell. Representatives from both are sent, individually or together, to sway each soul.
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[
"r\"hello there, mister Morgan is it?\", i look around, only scant moments ago i was in the hospital saying my goodbye, now some guy in a black suit is talking to me on what seems to be a disk made of gold inside a white room.\n\nthe man lets out a small cough, \"welkom, mister Morgan to the selection chamber, in here you will find where you will be spending the next 1000 years. representatives from both sides will join us after you verbally acknowledge that you are dead \"\n\ni was surprised, i knew i was dying, but i always though there would be no afterlife. After a few peeks around the room and a couple of minutes of thinking time i verbally acknowledged my death.\n\nto my left space seemed to warp and a gray suited man came forth, and to my right it started dripping something and the liquid formed a white suited man. \n\nthe black suited man did the introductions, \"the man to your left is called rendango and the man to your right is called trakil, they shall guide you to your stay, rendango please start your speech.\n\n\nrendango: \"ok mister Morgan , i am the representative of hell, unlike the earthly rumors it is not a plane of torture, but improvement, if you stay in hell you will have access to the infinite library's and activities that can increase the odds of reincarnating as a human rather then a mindless animal.\"\n\ntrakil:\"While in my domain you can do anything you wish, but nothing you do in my realm will affect your reincarnation chances in any way.\"\n\n\nmorgan: \"hmm difficult, what would my current reincarnation chances be?\"\n\nblack suited man\"you have 30% chance on human, and 70% chance to be an animal \"\n\nMorgan 'then i shall choose to improve the odds\"\n\nrendango let out a wide smile, \"come alone mister morgan we have your regular room ready. \"",
"\"So either I stay, I go down, or I go up?\"\n\n\"**Basically.**\"\n\n\"*Yes.*\"\n\nI paced back and forth in front of the two representatives, a boy in bright red overalls and a girl in a fluffy scarlet tutu. Beside each was a bell on a pole, the boy's marked with a Maple tree, the girl's with a simple feather.\n\nThe girl spoke up, \"*Do not be alarmed by our forms, child of Gaia, we thought them the most fitting.*\"\n\n\"It's surreal, really.\" I turned to the boy. \"This is a bit of an impasse. So Tyler went-\"\n\n\"**Back to the roots, back down to live again amongst the humans. His memory will fade as he matures past babehood.**\"\n\n\"And little Becky went up to the big happy?\"\n\nThe girl nodded and curtsied. As I pondered I was jolted back to the car, the smash, the grating and grinding and pinched scream into darkness. I had waken in what one would call Limbo, an endless expanse of meaningless solid grey rock, light grey dirt, and odourless, light grey daisies.\n\n\"Where is my wife? Where is Anna?\"\n\nThe pair looked at each other briefly before sullenly pointing to a lake full of drab, dark grey liquid a quarter mile away. Amongst the boulders at the shore, an uneven fixture looked over the surface, seated on a glass bench.\n\n\"**She told us she's Undecided.**\"\n\nThey both had a sour look on their faces.\n\n\"*Just ring the appropriate bell when you're ready.*\"\n\nWith that, they vanished. I gathered up a few of the greysies and starting walking to Anna.\n\nShe looked up at me briefly as I gave her the makeshift bouquet and sat down beside her. I put my arm around my wife as her thin fingers caressed the petals, her hands trembling. A breeze picked up and carried the flowers away.\n\n",
"And then, suddenly, I was in a room. Everything was white and a consistent shade at that. Sitting on this chair, I probably looked like I was levitating. Then, a splash of colour as a man appeared wearing a dark suit.\n\n‘Hello there,’ he said, ‘I hope that you are well. This is the start of the choice programme, by which you will select you destination for life eternal.’\n\n‘I thought that was decided by if you were religious?’\n\n‘We did that to begin with, but the problem nowadays is that there are just too many religions. And seeing as how each one says they are the only way upstairs, no-one was coming up. So this programme was invented about the time of the Renaissance and it seems to work. There have been tweaks here and there, naturally, keeping up with the times sort of thing. This area is neutral, as am I. I cannot influence your choice one way or another.’\n\n‘But, I get to decide? Isn’t it based on how you lived your life?’\n\n‘We did think about doing that, but humans were given free will for a reason and it was mutually decided this was the best way. There are exceptions, naturally. Hitler is in a Purgatory zone, which is also an option for you, as neither side wanted him. If you were on a reinc stream, it would be based on your karma.’\n\n‘Got it.’\n\n‘Good. Would you like the debate or the pitch?’\n\n‘Pardon?’\n\n‘That’s right, you’re an unexpected. It slipped my mind.’\n\n‘Unexpected?’\n\n‘There are those who go suddenly. Murder, suicide, accident, that sort of thing. They are unexpecteds. Then there are knowns. They’re the people who have been going for a while. They are somewhat prepared, through at the time they think they are seeing things or dreaming.\n\nAn advocate from Heaven and an advocate from Hell will be given the chance to convince you to go with them. These advocates no nothing about you so they can’t use things like your favourite musician or sports star to convince you.\n\nThis can take one of two forms. One is a debate. Podiums, opening and closing speeches, the chance to ask questions. The second is the pitch. Each side will get two minutes to convince you that they are the right choice, but you don’t get questions. Which would you prefer?’\n\nI thought about it for a second. ‘I’ll take the pitches.’\n\nThe man held out both hands as fists. ‘Left or right?’\n\n‘Left.’\n\nThe man opened his left. The room changed into an office. I was sat behind a desk in a leather chair. The door at the other end of the room opened.\n\nA woman walked through, dressed in pale colours and with long white hair cascading down her back. She closed the door, stood on the other side of the desk and spoke:\n\n‘I’m Anahita and I’m here to advocate on behalf of Heaven. Now, I know what the popular idea of Heaven is and I’m just here to tell you that, for once, it’s truth in advertising. Our music, for example. Virtuoso’s keep their high level of talent, but even the most tone deaf person on Earth will have some talent. Once you’ve heard Beethoven’s Ninth with the addition of Hendrix on guitar, you’ll think the usual version is boring.\n\nThe technology is outstanding. Ever since Steve Jobs joined us well… You know what he was like on Earth, you probably can’t imagine what he can do with our unlimited resources. Even better, it’s free.\n\nThe food is sublime. Every ingredient you may desire is fresh and everything turns out just the way you want it. Even then, give someone like Kieth Floyd free reign and the results are outstanding.\n\nThis is just a sample of what is waiting for you, for free, if you choose to follow me to Heaven. Thank you for your time.’\n\nWith that, Anahita bowed and left the room. I started to contemplate what she had said when the door opened again and another woman entered the room. This one was wearing a skintight black leather cat suit with long, raven black hair.\n\n‘Hello. My name is Ahriman and I’m here to tell you about the advantages of Hell. We’ve got a bad reputation, I’ll admit, but it really isn’t deserved. Take our clothing. You have complete freedom. Any style, any colour. You can even wear womens clothing if you want, no-one will bat an eyelid.\n\nYou a sport fan? You name it we can supply it. Baseball with Joe DiMaggio, football with George Best. Whatever you desire, we can make it happen.\n\nInterested in sex? Well, not many aren’t. You can have as much sex as you want, with whomever you want. No worrying about pregnancy or STD’s. If you are asexual, that’s OK too. No judgement.\n\nIf you choose to come with me to Hell, you’ll discover this is but the tip of the iceberg. Look forward to you joining me.’\n\nThen Ahriman bowed low, giving me a glimpse of her cleavage. The room changed back to the one I was in to begin with. The man was there again.\n\n‘So, what’s your choice?’",
"I entered the room. It was made of a fully transparent material, and behind that... nothing. I couldn't possibly explain it. suddenly, from the material emerged two men, one wearing angelic robes of magnificent beauty, the other wearing white also, but this was a thick, solid looking material, almost like armor.\n\n The angel spoke: \"Welcome, to the decision chamber.\" His voice was... well angelic. He continued: \"This is where you decide whether to enter the realm of Hell or the realm of Heaven.\"\nI responded: \"and why would i choose hell?\"\nThe angel looked at the other man.\nHe said: \"there is currently a war going on between heaven and hell, and it is God's will to give the immigrants a choice of fighting to keep the devil at back, or to enter heaven and live a peaceful life.\"\n\"You get as long as you want to ponder your options.\" The angel spoke.\nSuddenly, both men transformed into two buttons, fully white in colour.\nI mulled over my answer, before deciding i am no fighter, and would be of no use to the war. I pushed the heaven button.\n\n100.000 years later\n\nI was talking with my wife, in total bliss of the situation. Sitting atop my cloud chair on the Grand Balcony of Infinity, I was enjoying the view of the universe below. Suddenly, the sky fell before my eyes and darkness rolled in. Huge masses of indescribable beasts, each with the face of a man, charged in. I saw the larger of the beasts had recognisable faces: Adolph Hitler, with a cracked face and pure dark eyes, the size of London, Joseph Stalin on the body of a giant snake, and many other recognisable horrific faces. At the centre of the masses of beasts was the devil himself, standing the size of the sun, a creature of black and red. I had not the time to observe as guards came rushing out, calling people to \"get to the castle!\"\n \n \n",
"\"Yeah i hav the donuts 4 the meeting. Need a ride?\"\n\nAs I walked down the sidewalk I read my phone's screen. I tapped on the text bar and began to type. I glanced up at the light. I guess I can walk. I began to walk forward across the white lines. As I typed I noticed an itch on my nose. I reached up to scratch--\n\n***SCRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH***\n\nI felt great. Comfortable. I was not hungry, didn't have have to pee anymore, wasn't sweating, was just overall comfortable. I looked down, and I was naked. I put my hands over my chest and crotch to cover and looked around... There was no one. The city was just empty. I saw no point to covering myself anymore. I heard an engine from off in the distance. It was getting louder. I saw a Ferrari come around the block. It was coming straight at me and turn to dust as soon as it cane with 5 feet of me. A man in a ash suit stumbled out of the dissipating cloud. He stared at me with a nasty looking grin.\n\n\"Weeeell hello there, sugar,\" he said, staring at my chest then reaching out to shake my hand, \"I have good news and bad news.\" I stared at him. He hesitated and looked around the streets, then up to the sky. \"Okay, so here's the bad news: You're dead! Ain't that some shit,\" he laughed. \"The good news: you've been a veeeery good girl. So you get to go to hell!\"\n\n\"That doesn't make any sense! Who are you?\"\n\n\"But it does! And that isn't important. You see, if your *good enough*, you get to be a torturer. Doesn't that sound fun! You and I both know you've had your fair share of fantasies.\"\n\n\"But... But why are we here? Why didn't I just go there?\"\n\n\"Well... You see......\"\n\nAnother man in a white suit appeared from behind him and interrupted, \"You see: you get a choice. Sorry I'm late. You almost got screwed there. And come on man, have some respect.\" He snapped his fingers and I was wearing the same clothes as before. \"The thing is, you're what we call the \"on the median.\" You're good enough to get into heaven, but have done enough to get into hell. So, what we do is give you a choice. You can go to hell to be a torturer to all who have wronged you, if they go to the worse part of hell. Or, you can go to heaven with a silver membership.\"\n\n\"What's a silver membership?\"\n\n\"Its you, only gettin' majorly fucked,\" said the man in the ash suit, \"its like the heaven you hear about people talking about, only you still have basic human needs and live under all the higher tier members. The system up there is really fucked.\"\n\nThe man in white chipped in, \"Uhhh.. Thats about right actually. Even though I wasn't going to put it that way.\"\n\n\"So what's it gonna be, sugar-tits? Do you wanna be an evil motherfucker, with the power to make people live their worst nightmare, or the poor people of heaven?\"",
"\"Would you just let me pitch? It isn't fair if you don't let me pitch!\" the red one howled, the skin of its mouth pulling taut as it snarled dribbling yellow spittle all over its rotting skin.\n\"It does seem only fair, my child.\" The white one added, its robes floating and rippling gently an inch or so above the pristine marble floor.\n\nThere was absolutely no way whatsoever Jack Smith was changing his mind. He wasn't a bright guy, a previously religious guy, an athletic, successful, intuitive or overly handsome guy. In fact, he was almost startlingly bland. But he knew enough to know that Hell was less than ideal.\n\n\"I'd really rather not.\" he said simply, pride curving the corners of his lips up into a curt smile\n\"Hell has all the best music.\" the red one said simply, aiming for a blatant common denominator.\nJack snorted. \"I really, really don't care what you say. I vote heaven, thanks.\"\n\"Heaven isn't all that great.\" The demon spat back, it's spittle sizzling tiny specked craters into the marble floor.\n\"Like you would know.\" Jack jeered, grinning widely.\n\"I'm just doing my job, hear me out-\" the red one began\n\"No. You wont persuade me, I don't care what you think, I'd quite like heaven thanks.\"\n\"Take your time, Jack.\" the angel cautioned, it's voice as tranquil as a warm bath\n\"Yes, Jack.\" the demon agreed \"Let me have my say.\"\n\"I don't care! I'm going to heaven and I really really don't care what you might say!\"\n\nThe angel and demon looked at each other, and shared a strained sigh.\n\"Nice try Paul, you really did try to warn him.\" \n\"Modern ones are so hard to win for us.\" the angel said simply, before vanishing in a flash of warm light.\n\"Well, you're with me kid.\" the red thing said simply, outstretching its taloned hand.\n\"Wait, what?\" Jack asked, his body frozen in shock as his rather standard mind puzzled things over.\n\"It should be obvious. It was supposed to be obvious.\" the demon said simply, light pulsing all around it until its leathery hide shifted into flowing white robes. \"If you are nice to all, you go up. If you just care about what you want, you don't go up.\"\nJack blinked, and shrugged. There was nothing he could change now.\n\"I suppose I'll have company, where I'm going? Down?\"\n\"Nope.\" the thing said sadly, warm light flowing around it \"The ones who don't care about others stay alone, you'll never find anyone.\"\n\"Oh.\" managed Jack, as his eyes stretched over the endless expanse of square marble tiles.\n\"Sorry..\" the demon said simply as the light flowed around it and it began to disappear \"I did try to explain.\"\n",
"The darkness was profound. If you could even call it darkness, that is. As far as the eye could see there was only oblivion. Then it hit me, I had died. The last thing I remember was being sick, *severely* sick. But I didn't feel sick anymore, and that in itself was a godsend. \n\nI began to walk around this empty void. I looked earnestly for something, anything to fill it. Time passed. It felt like eons. It was probably only hours. Just when I was about to give in a light appeared on the horizon. It began as just a pinpoint. But it began to expand, rapidly too. The light exploded across the black void filling it with white light.\n\nI turned around, and there was a man there, well dressed, in a white suit with a black tie, his black hair was slicked back in a clean and neat fashion, his shoes were of some black leather, likely made of some type of lizard.\n\n\"Good afternoon\" He said to me.\n\n\"Er, how can you tell?\" I stammered, surprised by his presence.\n\nThe white void was filled by blue sky, grass sprung up at our feet, mountains rose in the distance, it was as if the world was being poured into this space just like a pitcher into a cup.\n\n\"It is whatever I wish it to be\" the man said with glee, his white suit turning black, his tie turning red.\n\n\"Are... are you God?\" I asked.\n\n\"Who? Me?\" he said, taken aback, \" No my friend, I'm not God. I'm just a messenger.\"\n\n\"You have a message for me?\" I asked.\n\n\"Indeed I do. Your message is choice, just like in the last life.\"\n\n\"What choice?\" The mans suit turned white again, with the black tie, his previous colors seeming to evaporate off him.\n\n\"Is it not obvious?\" he stated, \"Your quite clearly dead, and you're mind is not gone as you seemed to have thought it would have been. Now you have a choice. Heaven or Hell.\"\n\n\"Don't people get sent to each based off their actions?\" I asked.\n\n\"What kind of afterlife would that be?\" the man said, his color pallet switching yet again.\n\n\"But what about retribution? For the sinners and the evil?\"\n\n\"It is no concern of God over petty human squabbles and vendettas. God gives you choice, and he lets you choose what you choose to choose.\"\n\nI felt a little betrayed. Some people deserved punishment. Hitler, rapists, murderers. They all got off scott-free?\n\nThe man, sensing my anguish, said, \"You'd be surprised how heavily most peoples crimes weigh against them. An eternity with their actions is often punishment enough.\"\n\nI let it go, I had more pressing questions. \"So you're offering Heaven or Hell... Why on earth would I choose Hell?\"\n\nHis pallet switched again, \"Hell isn't a lake of fire if that's what you think it is. The bible was very much written by man, with many inaccuracies.\"\n\nHe sat on the grass and watched the breeze blow through the leaves. He beckoned for me to join him, and I did. He continued, \"Hell is a realm of question, danger, and excitement. Heaven is much the opposite, it is a realm of absolutes, safety, and comfort.\"\n\nI mulled it over for a bit... \" Well where did my family go?\"\n\nThe man chuckled, \"Your mother is in heaven, your sister chose hell, and you father also chose heaven, and your wife chose hell as well.\"\n\nI just let it sink in for a bit... \"Are they sealed off from one another?\"\n\n\"What? No, of course not, there is always neutral ground between the realms, as a matter of fact, we're in such a place as we speak.\"\n\nHis suit turned black and red again. \"Wouldn't be much of an afterlife without loved ones now would it?\"\n\n\"No... I suppose not... But isn't God and Satan fighting an eternal battle?\"\n\n\"Ah, forgive me,\" the man said, \" I oft forget to mention some of the obvious before I give them my message. Yes, there is a struggle, but it isn't violent or particularly uproarious. The struggle is simply a disagreement of thought. Do you honestly think that heavenly beings are petty enough to be violent? Its quite civil really.\"\n\nMy thoughts appeased I just sat on the grassy knoll looking at the mountains.\n\n\"Its quite beautiful.\" I said.\n\n\"Care to give it a go?\" he said.\n\n\"What you mean... change it?\" I asked.\n\nHe nodded... \"how do I...?\" he cut me off, \"Just think it.\"\n\nThe world melted back into a white void, blank as canvas, suddenly mountains filled the west and south, a river poured through the north, and forests as far as the eye could see filled the east. In the center, fields of grass sprung to life, as marble towers shot out of the ground. Three towers filled the center, impossibly large and impossibly beautiful. The towers were sculpted marble, ancient and fantastical. The two other towers were lesser than the center one, but equally as impressive.\n\n\"Curious\" the man said... \"I think I know your choice...\"\n\nI smiled. I always did like options.\n\n",
"“So this, is heaven!” I exclaim with a burst of enthusiasm. I made it a personal goal to greet each new chapter in my life with zeal. Or in this case, the afterlife.\n\nA weary, but competent looking angel flaps his wings in response and glances up at the entrance by which he stands guard. Above his head in huge yellow letters is emblazoned “HEAVEN.” Little flashing light bulbs border the sign, accentuating it in a movie-theater like glow. \n\nThe angel draws in his breath in as if to sigh, but then coughs instead. “Welcome.” He sputters. After a dramatic pause, he opens his arms wide and flashes a half-convincing smile. “To heaven!” \nI stare at him for a weighty couple of seconds before he drops his arms. He adjusts a halo on his head that never ceases to be crooked.\n\n“This is heaven?” I ask, in slight disbelief.\n\nThe angel nods. “Yep.” He pauses before snapping his fingers. A map appears out of thin air which he hands to me. It looks as if a preschooler has drawn it with a crayon. On the north of the map is a crudely drawn golden door which is labeled in scrawl, “The Pearly Gates to Paradise.” The south portion of the map is vandalized with messy red pastel. It is labeled “Literally Hell.” \n\nI look up. The angel is filing his fingernails. “Good job getting here. Not many have what it takes to make it nowadays. To heaven I mean.” \n\n“Uh-huh.” I respond in agreement. In the 23rd century, the Earth had been nearly purged of every religion and replaced with a rigorous scientific curriculum. “Frankly I myself am in doubt as to how I got here.”\n\n“We can ask the man himself when we get there.” The angel tilts his head toward the door, beckoning for me to follow.\n \n“Before we do, can you answer me this question?”\n\nHe taps his sandaled foot impatiently and looks at me expectantly “You know what? I’d love to since I’m an angel and all - and I want to help since it’s in my nature, but God is about to host a house party upstairs.”\n\nAt this I perk an eyebrow. All powerful ruler of the universe, holding a party in what is presumably his spacious domain of paradise? I am struck by curiosity. \n\n“You guys have a concept of time?” I look at the angel skeptically. “One can’t be late to a party in Heaven right?”\n\n“No, no of course not.” The angel responds, slightly irritated. “But he’s about to open the rejected animal-idea petting zoo. Can you imagine the line?” He flaps his wings, flying over my head and pushing me from behind.\n\n“W-wait a second..”\n\n“Now newcomer, let’s… get… going…” The angel with considerable effort tries to push me toward the gates. I’m about to willingly head up the stairs when I hear a strange whining sound in my ear. It starts out tiny like a buzzing mosquito, but gets louder like an approaching train. After a while I can make it out as a voice calling “WAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIT!” \n\nThe angel, seemingly able to also hear the noise, begins to push more urgently. “Come on human!” He pushes with all his might, his back against my own. Despite his best efforts, I stand still like a rock.\n \nFinally the voice becomes loud enough to be heard clearly. Rapid footsteps fall closer as once again my curiosity is piqued. The ground opens like a yawning mouth and an orange skinned demon jumps out of the ground. \n“So sorry I’m late!” She bows low, her nose almost touching the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, the angel rolls his eyes. \n\nThe demon looks to me and then the angel. “Again? Trying to weasel another mortal out of his free will, Gabriel?” The demon plays on the last word, pronouncing it to sound like ‘Gay-briel.’ \nShe points a pointy finger in my direction. “God gave all of us free will, including you. Especially you.” “Do you know what that means?” \n\nThe angel answers coldly. “It means he’s not dumb enough to go to hell with you.” He turns to me, grabbing my shoulders. “Don’t give in to temptation. The forces of evil are convincing and masters of turning the sheep of god astray. Trust me, heaven is loads nicer.”\n\n“Pffft.” The demon makes a sound similar to armpit farting with her mouth. “That’s the problem with you heaven dwellers – just not with the times anymore. You think that humans are interested in comfort and niceties. It’s the 23rd century Gay-briel, they get enough of that on Earth. They’re interested in something more now.”\n\nGabriele turns his attention to me. “This is heaven we’re talking about here. Unlimited food, sun, genuine friends… All you could ever ask for? You can have anything! You can even have a promising career in heaven or a real love life if you never had a fulfilled experience down on Earth. Anything that will make you happy it’s up here in heaven. Please. You won’t regret the decision to come with me.” He offers his hand, his eyes pleading and brimming with sincerity.\nI am inclined to take his hand at this point, but before I do, I look to the demon.\n\n“I’ll be honest – hell won’t offer you any of those things.” I look at her bewildered, what did I expect? It was hell after all.\n\nNoticing my expression she sighs, “Yea I gotta level with you, down in hell the company’s pretty cruddy. Everyone’s on your ass for being factually incorrect about things. Everyone’s dying for approval from people they don’t even know that well on a personal level. Food’s not that great and we don’t have a magical indoor gym like heaven does where you don’t have to work out.” The demon chuckles, “Quite frankly the only thing we have over heaven is access to Reddit. It’s so satanic in destroying the time and space continuum and work ethic of humans that it’s pretty much the definition of hell.” \n\n“Well once I try hell can I ever come back?” I ask her as I take her hand.\n\n“It’s up to you.” She says grinning devilishly as we descend into the depths.\n\n \n",
"\"Welcome, Sir. I am Alexus Andronicus. My esteemed colleague next to me is Marcellus Flavius. We are your Sorters. I understand the process has been explained to you, so let us simply begin. I am here to offer you eternal bliss free of pain and suffering\". \n\n\"... and *I* am here to offer you eternal questioning, often filled with anguish and self-doubt\".\n\nWow, well, this is a no-brainer. I'll take Eternal Bliss for 1000, Alex. \n\n\"Excellent choice! Hell it is, Sir\".\n\n",
"The sun was high in the sky, and the sand warm against the old man’s back. Quiet waves slowly caressed the pristine beach. The warm sun was countered by a cool breeze coming off the water. “Perfect,” the old man thought to himself and he smiled as he took a sip from his drink. \n\n“Mind if I join you?”\n\nThe old man was awakened from his daydream by a familiar voice. A little rough, a little deep, but oh so able to say the right thing.\n\n“Of course, old friend,” the old man replied.\n\nAnd beside the old man sat his demon. \n\nThe two shared the scene in silence, until the demon broke in. “It’s been too long since we sat like this. We should make it an occasion.”\n\n“Careful…remember that I am content in what I’m doing.” The old man replied in a cautionary tone. But then he softened and added, “Let’s just see what the day brings us.”\n\nAnd the two returned to their silent watch for some time.\n\n“Mind if I join you?”\n\nThe silence was broken yet once more, again by a familiar voice. The voice was sweet and gentle, but had a tendency to disagree. The demon rolled his eyes.\n\n“Come now,” the old man reproached, “there’s no need for that. We’re all friends here; of course you can join us.”\n\nAnd beside the old man sat his angel.\n\n“It’s funny how you always get here second,” the old man said to the angel.\n\n“I know, but I only go where I am needed,” was the obvious answer.\n\n“I see,” said the old man as he took a sip of his drink.\n\nAnd the three returned to a silent watch.\n\nAfter some time, the demon once again breaks the silence. “I’ve been wondering,” he said, “what you think of my being here. You never did give me a full answer.”\n\n“Well at the time I didn’t know,” said the old man, “But I’ve had some time to think and I’ve realized that your presence is a good thing.”\n\n“Explain,” asked the angel, with a wry smile.\n\n“Yes,” the old man replied, “you see, there’s a devil and an angel within us all. And that is what makes this life so beautiful. Without sorrow and without hardship, there is no cause for happiness. We have the opportunity to create heaven and hell right here in this life. It becomes a matter of perspective, and of the choices we make. I believe in the constancy of the universe. There cannot be an up without a down, a light without a dark, or a good without a bad. What would a day like today mean to us if everyday was like it? Look out at the ocean: every wave has a peak and a valley. They cannot exist without each other. In a sense that’s all we are: just another form of energy making its way from one point to another. We needn’t trouble ourselves with questions of good and bad. We only need to be sure to preserve the balance, because one thing is certain: you always pay for what you get.”\n\nWith this both the demon and the angel stood, brushed the sand from their bodies, and shook hands.\n“I guess you were right,” said the demon.\n\n“It’s time we took leave of you,” said the angel to the man. And then they were gone.\n\nThe sun was low in the sky now, slowly shading it with red and orange. Once again alone, the old man smiled to himself, took a sip of his drink, and closed his eyes one last time. “Perfect…”\n"
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[WP] 'Energy Drinks' give you temporary powers, with the same 'crash' at the end.
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"To be honest, I didn’t understand what the fuss was about. All you had to do was control yourself and plan ahead. Whenever I took them, it would always be a Saturday, so that I had Sunday to cool off. I had tried them all; Fly, Roid, Luck, Health, IQ, Rush!, even XH. I had tried them separately, mixed together, while stoned and intoxicated, but it was always a maximum of three cans, that’s all I bought at the store, so that there was no temptation. I always did it alone as well. Sure that sucked, but it was better than doing it with friends and dying. But it wasn’t all bad, the fact that they actually worked as amazing, the experiences you got were unbelievable, I suppose that’s why so many died; it was fucking addictive. But all you had to do was limit the temptation. Easy.\n\nThen Ghost hit the shelves. That was a terrible idea. I had settled down on a bean bag in my pyjamas (don’t judge) and took my first swig. It kind of tripped me out at first, the lights in the room seemed to dim and the walls began to curve a little. Then came the ghosts. There weren’t many that I could see, but it was interesting watching people play out their lives, kind of like reality TV I suppose. I took another swig and the scene changed, but the ghosts became sharper. Out of nowhere, one of them came up to me. “Georgia? Is that you?” I couldn’t make out the entire shape, but it looked like a kid with blonde hair. I took another swig and almost spat it back out. “Fuck! Jake? Is that you?” The boy’s green eyes lit up and he cracked a smile. His front tooth was still missing. \n\n“You’ve changed a lot George.” he giggled.\n\n“Yeah, buddy. A lot of time has passed…”\n\n“Oh? It doesn’t seem like it here.”\n\nHe began to fade so I took another swig. “Fuck.” I cracked open another can.\n\n“Tut tut George. Mom won’t be happy that you swore.”\n\n“Is mom with you?”\n\n“Sometimes.” He smiled. We chatted for a while, I’m not entirely sure about what, but I remember feeling happy. After what seemed like no time, he began fading again and I was out of cans. \n\n“Fuck. Sorry Jake. Looks like this is it for now.”\n\nHe pouted, but said, “That’s cool, I’ll see you again won’t I sis?”\n\n“Of course.”\n\n“Next time, I’ll try bring mom along as well.”\n\n“That’d be nice.”\n\nHe waved and was gone. That was two weeks ago. I look at my watch, it’s six thirty, which used to be dinnertime. I look down at my pack of twenty four and sigh. I now understand why so many people die. Everyone has their weakness; mine was guilt. \n\n-068\n",
"I suppose drinking these fucking energy drinks in such high quantities was probably a bad idea after all. I never thought they would crash so hard.\n\nMy friend Markus - what a crazy man - suggested we drink the new range of energy drinks, but not just one, not just two. . . no, twenty. We downed them like water. At first we were just slightly more hyper-active. . . and then things went south.\n\nWe each chose a drink and stuck to it. Markus was drinking Roid, the energy drink that increases your muscular ability and general strength. At first there wasn't much of an effect, it was obviously working, but he wasn't superhuman by any measure. But after his ninth, he was able to lift people with ease, he ran around the house carrying the fridge. He punched a hole in the wall to prove a point. He went to high-five another guy - Charles - and ended up splattering his arm all over the wall. . .\n\nCharles however, he was drinking Health, an energy drink that helped you quickly but temporarily recover from minor wounds and ailments. At the time of the high-five, he was on his twelfth drink. At the time of the impact, there was screaming and panicking. But then his arm grew back. . . and then we panicked even more.\n\nJordan was drinking IQ, and as expected, as the night dragged on he grew more and more intelligent. He was doodling on everything and anything. I asked him what he was doing and told me that he was drawing up plans for a time machine.\n\nLaura was drinking Rush!, the energy drink that gave you increased stamina and speed. Fifteen drinks in, she was moving so fast her movements were nothing but a blur. At one point we asked her to go to the petrol station to get us some food. It only took her six seconds.\n\nThat was two hours ago.\n\nLaura is curled up on the couch, deep in sleep. She was the first to crash. We desperately tried to wake her up, but to no avail. I suspect she will be asleep until the end of her days.\n\nJordan is slumped in the corner, dribbling all over himself. He does not talk, his voice is nothing but an incomprehensible babble. He has soiled himself as well, and continues to sit in his own mess.\n\nCharles lays on the floor. Or rather. . . what is left of Charles. I see nothing but a rotting corpse, its flesh rapidly deteriorating, its bones crumbling to dust before my eyes.\n\nMarkus is glued to the floor, crushed under his own weight. His strength gone, he had no power to lift himself, and slowly suffocated under his own being.\n\nI look at my drink of XH in my hand. It is my twentieth can.\n\nXH, the drink of good memories.\n\n\n"
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Go wherever you want with this. You can make Him the good guy or the bad guy.
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[WP] God is arrested, charged, and tried by a divine tribunal. He attempts to defend himself.
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"\"You are a coward. You think you can do whatever you want, and it won't ever matter. Who cares if a few humans go to Hell, huh? Well I care, you useless asshole! That was my family you took from me. And I care!\" The man at the witness stand had begun to weep at this point. His hands were still clenched in white knuckled fists and his veins pushed against the thin skin on his neck, but his sorrow washed over the anger like a match against an ocean wave. \nThe man sitting at the defense table was silent. He barely reacted at all to the screams and tears that had been poured out at him. Out of the thirty witnesses that had been up on the witness stand so far, eighteen had wept and twenty-seven had screamed at him. But he remained quiet and still, leaning back in his chair. \nIt was an odd choice for a being such as himself to choose to embody. The shape that he took was one of a middle aged man with a balding head, wrinkled dark skin, and unbalanced facial features. His rounded belly rested against the table at which he sat. He wore a cheap and faded gray suit that hung loosely on his body. \nThe man who had broken down at the witness stand was assisted down and he walked out of the courtroom, still weeping. His wails of pain left silence behind him as he exited. And when the door shut behind him, the room was momentarily still as the grave. \n\"Are there any more witnesses you would like to call?\" The elderly judge asked the men at the plaintiff's table. They all leaned in and whispered and hissed for a few minutes, before one stood up and said in a deep and stern voice, \"Yes, your honor. We would like to call *God* to the stage.\" \nThere were a few dramatic gasps from the audience and jury, but God simply stood from his seat and walked over to the witness stand. He sat down and looked out at the faces before him. Almost every single one was looking back at him with awe, hatred, disgust, or a mixture of the three. \n\"Countless stories, sir. That's what we've presented here for you, today. Multiple deaths, sickness, betrayal, depression, and condemnation. Lives torn limb from limb. Shattered people bearing themselves to the world. ...And yet you sit. Unaffected and uncaring. You sit staring off into space as if you had something else to worry about more than this world you have supposedly created.\" \n\"You did not look up at the old man who begged you to return his wife and children to him. And the young girl who told us how she tragically lost her parents in a fire, you couldn't even lend acknowledgement. Or spare a piece of food to the boy who told us how long he has gone starving. How long he has gone without a drink of water. You have that entire jug of water to yourself over on your table, but you would *never* share that, would you?\" \nThe lawyer turned out to the audience and paused. His body was rigid, and his face was pulled tight with careful contemplation. \"He doesn't care, because he is a monster. He is a child pouring salt on a defenseless slug, simply to watch it writhe. And we are no more than a test. An experiment to see how much humans can take before they crack. We're a game he plays when he's bored.\" \nThe lawyer turned back to God and continued, \"See how he sits, without a care in the world? He is useless to us. He came alone, and is just sitting here to mock us. He couldn't even be bothered to find an attractive body to use.\" \n\"What's wrong with this body?\" God asked, interrupting the lawyer. The same group of people gasped at the sound of his voice. It was soft and smoother than silk. It was the lack of stress that made it so beautiful; an air of supreme wisdom and power that rumbled the stomachs of every person in the room. \nThe lawyer paused only for a moment before catching himself and replying, \"Look at you! Uncombed and fading hair. Cheap suit and a bulging belly. Did you save your good body for a party later?\" \n\"I think this body is beautiful,\" God said. \nThe lawyer rolled his eyes and said, \"Yeah, yeah. All loving, we get it. You can cut the act.\" \n\"Your opinions of beauty change constantly. Not one of you have the exact same idea of it. You insult this body, but I know for a fact that at least two and a half billion people alive *right now only*, would find this form beautiful.\" \n\"Do not try to change the subject,\" the lawyer warned. \"We're discussing your crimes.\" \n\"I'm not distracting you. I'm trying to help you. All of you. I don't know why I do anymore. It is simply my nature to help.\" \n\"Help?\" The lawyer scoffed. \"You don't know the meaning of the word. It is in your nature only to harm.\" ",
"I could hardly believe it. All of these years I spent thinking that I was the one. The only. And here I was, before 3 others, with the power to condemn me to something much worse than the hell I created when Satan was cast from above.\n\n\"Our Father\", mockingly spoken by a human being who had spent most of his years as a Christian priest, \"I have been told to make you aware of the charges brought against you. You allowed every living being in the universe which you were assigned as a child to die. Countless numbers of humans, humanoids, amphibians, reptiles, and mammals have died. And for what? For a false deity lead by a false God.\"\n\n\"Thank you Human.\" The voice bellowed. For the first time, I felt respect. It spoke with a truly omniconsiliont voice. For the first time, I had no words.\n\n\"Now, God, do you understand the charges brought before you?\"\n\nAfter a few millennia the words poured out \"I do, your honor.\"\n\nThe Being began to giggle, \"Showing respect to your elders will do you no good at this point, God. You have spent countless years not even acknowledging us. We are jealous, much like yourself, but... We do not forgive.\"\n\n\"For the loss of the Universe, you are meant to spend 100 millennia in purgatory.\"\n\nOnly 100 millennia? That's the equivalency of a few minutes in a human timeline. They must be feeling kind today.\n\n\"For disrespecting Us you are sentenced to eternity among the stars. You shall not be released at any time. While the rest of the stars are dwindling away, being replaced with black holes in case another needing a punitive act comes along, you will be always be there.\"\n\nThe human priest from earlier expressed his disbelief before I had even considered whether it was a good idea or not. \"Your honor, this false deity allowed the destruction of an entire universe and all of the lives within it. Surely you are mistaken in your original punishment?\"\n\nAgain the laugh. \"Humans are disposable and universes are replaceable. The 100 millennia sentence was something of a courtesy to you.\"\n\nAnd I felt fear. \n\n"
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[WP] Samuel L. Jackson learns he is a direct descendant of President Andrew Jackson. He decides to finish what his ancestor started.
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"With a shout and a thud the old wooden door flew from its rusty hinges and landed in a cloud of dust on the floor. A shaft of piercing moonlight poured in through the doorway, soon filled with a massive, badass silhouette. \n\n\"Knock, knock motherfuckers!\" Jackson's voice filled old house. \"Now, I know y'all are home! No use hidin' yo ass from my foot! The two are going to be introduced eventually!\"\n\n\"Gee, boss. I dunno if you should be doing that,\" moaned a concerned voice from behind. \n\n\"Shut your bitch ass up, Travolta,\" Samuel L. said, as he stepped undaunted into the house. He found himself in a kitchen which, from appearances, hadn't been used in decades-centuries, perhaps. \n\n\"My great great great grand daddy Andrew came here to get a little r 'n' r, and some paranormal bitch had to come and ruin it. So I'll ask. Her. Again. Where's her bitch ass hiding?\" \n\nTravolta, hunched over in his natural state, quivered with every punctuated shout from Sammy J. An almost imperceptible creak sounded overhead. \n\n\"You best not be hidin under the bed like the bitch I know you are, motherfucker!\" \n\nThe creaks became footsteps, slow. . . deliberate. . . certain. \n\n\"Could we hurry this *up* please? I am a busy man! I don't need to be wastin' my valuable time with no motherfuckin concubine of Satan! \"\n\nThe footsteps were thunder claps. A sudden boom erupted with a flash of lightning in the small room in which our hero and Travolta stood. A maniacal cackle and hiss emanated from a dark, hideous being that now stood in front of Samuel L. Jackson. \n\n\"You. . . you dare insult the Witch of Bell?!\" It's voice sounded of nails on a chalkboard. \n\n\"Well it's about motherfucking time,\" Samuel said, in the exact same tone he says everything: pissed off confidence. He reached out and grabbed the demon by the throat and pulled it close to his face. For the first time in eternity, the Bell Witch new fear. \n\n\"Tell me something,\" Jackson said. \"What does Andrew Jackson look like?\"\n\n\"He... he's white...\" \n\n\"Go on...\" said Samuel, eager to resolve this. \n\n\"He's got a walking stick.\"\n\n\"Does he look like a bitch?\" Samuel had run out of patience. \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"DOES HE LOOK LIKE A BITCH?\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Then why you try to fuck him like a bitch?\" \n\n\"I didn't...\"\n\n\"Yes you did. Yes you did! You tried to fuck him. And Andrew Jackson don't like to be fucked by anybody except Mrs. Jackson.\" With this, Samuel L. Jackson opened his eyes wide and sent forth a beam of light so glorious that none who gazed upon it save for Jackson himself were consumed by its power. The Bell Witch, scourge of Bell family for so long, had finally reaped what she had sown. Here, now, was judgment beyond anything she could imagine. She screamed as she evaporated into ether. Travolta squealed and covered his head, begging for mercy. \n\n\"Relax, Travolta. It's over. Bitch got what was coming to her. Let's go get some Big Kahuna Burgers.\"\n\nTravolta had wet his pants. \n\n\n",
"After learning of his ancestry, Samuel Jackson was torn. He had fought for minority rights for years, but knowing where he came from, he felt compelled to carry on in the footsteps of his most famous ancestor. He was full of internal conflict as he drove through the Pocatello sun towards the Fort Hall Indian Reservation a few hours north of Salt Lake City, as he drove past the Fort Hall Casino, he met up with a group of Shoshone-Bannock tribal leaders who had been informed of his arrival. With a bellowing voice, he almost shouted at them with no empathy in his voice.\n\n\"Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking Plains Indians on this motherfucking Snake River!\"\n\nThe startled tribal elders looked shocked and incredulous. They had been excited for the actor's unexpected visit, but this wasn't at all what they had thought was coming.\n\n\"No seriously, we've discovered rare earth metals in the soil and we're gonna strip mine the area. Don't worry, we've set aside a few thousand acres in Klamath Falls, Oregon for you to resettle in, it shouldn't be that far a drive.\"\n\nSamuel knew that this would help the national economy and keep the United States from being too dependent on China for natural resources, but at the same time, he felt like he was betraying the causes he had fought so hard for, and as he watched the shocked and downtrodden Shoshone prepare for the big move, a single tear trailed down his cheek."
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A romance can end with a faint glow of hope that it may one day be rekindled. Death may be the beginning of a new journey. Write a poem or short story (300 words or less) about something that is, without question, final.
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[FF] Finality
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"All we knew was the line. Constant consistent walking, forward forever. We were born in it, and never left it. But he was dead and everyone just kept going. An endless march of unrelenting footfalls sliding into place one after the other, keeping the burning sands uniform and changeless. It was so goddamned final, the sentence that the rest of us had to carry out. He was dead and we were not, doomed to continue on forever. We could not falter, why had he? Ceasless marching until we, too, fell into our bodies and met with a different kind of eternity--resurrection, renaissance, a nascent burgeoning thought that we had been here before. What we were marching to no one knew. Why we had started no one knew. All we knew was the line.",
"“He was the love of my life, you know. A wonderful man.” \n\n\n\nHer eyes are milky and distant, and she shakes slightly as she talks.\n\n\n\n“Yes; he was,” I say. \n\n\n\n“Do you know how we met?” \n\n*I do. It was a blind date.*\n\n\n\n*I’ve heard the story a hundred times before;*\n\n\n\n*met the other people involved;*\n\n\n\n*seen the pictures.*\n\n\n\n*A blind, double date.*\n\n\n\n“He approached me at a dance. I saw him staring at me…”\n\n\n\nShe says instead, \n\n\n\n“I went over and asked, ‘what are you looking at?’ … \n\n\n\n“He said, ‘you’. And I said, ‘what are you going to do about it? ...\n\n\n\n“And he told me he would marry me, right then and there.”\n\n\n\n*I wonder if that is from a movie she saw last week*\n\n\n\n*or if it is a misplaced memory of someone else*\n\n\n\n*or simply imagined.*\n\n\n\n“That’s a nice story,” I say.\n\n\n\n“We lived in France, you know,” she continues, as if I am not even there.\n\n\n\n*They never did.*\n\n\n\n*They lived in the same little yellow house for fifty four years.*\n\n\n\n“We wanted our children to speak French, like us.”\n\n\n\n*She doesn’t speak any French.*\n\n\n\n*She has never spoken French.*\n\n\n\n“That’s nice, Grandma.” \n\n\n\nI don’t know what else to say.\n\n\n\nShe always used to tell me\n\n\n\n*the only thing*\n\n\n\n*that no one can take away from you*\n\n\n\n*is your memories.*\n\n\n\nIt is kind of funny,\n\n\n\nand by funny I mean sad,\n\n\n\nbecause her own memories\n\n\n\nare forgotten.\n\n\n\nShe is not the keeper\n\n\n\nof what was once\n\n\n\nso closely guarded.\n\n\n\nTime and age\n\n\n\nhave already taken,\n\n\n\nhave already burned,\n\n\n\nwordless pictures:\n\n\n\nThe story\n\n\n\nwith lost beginnings\n\n\n\nand a silent plot.\n\n\n\n*She asked me to write down her memories*\n\n\n\n*so that her story would not be forgotten*\n\n\n\nwithout realizing\n\n\n\nthe story had already ended.\n\n ",
"\"This too shall pass,\" they say. \nThey mutter it as they throw coin at the feet of the hopeless and the weary.\nThey sigh it at the threshold of Spring.\nWith each protest and rally and war, they scream it with bloodshed and prose.\n\nSometimes they forget their little boxes, hung upon the wall,\nwhich hold all of time. Each and every thing captured at the moment of death.\nWhere flowers never droop, never wither, never die. A butterfly, midflap. A prisoner with malice in his eyes.\n\nEach frozen person inspires a memory\nuntil those who pass have passed.\nThe static smiles in their little boxes know no difference.",
"“Get up.”\n\nI looked up in fright to see a hooded figure hunched over me. I was in a dessert the sky and above me was filled with black clouds.\n\n“Gah! Who are you”, I screamed.\n\n“I’m Death. Now before you say anything. Yes you are dead, car accident, November 5th 2015. You will be missed. Now let’s get moving we have work to do.”\n\n“Work? What work I just died? Aren’t I supposed to go to Heaven or Hell or something?”\n\n“Usually, but not you. We have something special planned for you.”\n\n“What do you mean by we”, I asked.\n \nThe figure turned around toward a dark mountain range. His face was hidden but I could sense a slight bit of joy in his voice.\n\n“Follow me and figure out.”\n",
"Hovering over New York City, I set the helicopter to auto-hover. My life is nice, but the thought of not having any worries is much more enticing. I won't be leaving anyone behind, only my co-workers. As I open the door I can see the Empire State Building to my right and the Freedom Tower to my left. What a beautiful skyline. As I take in the sight I slide slowly down my seat. Only my belt is hanging on to the chair now as I stare at the magnificent buildings. \n\nAir. All I feel is air, rushing towards me, blowing through my hair. The pressure of the air pushing up against my chest not slowing me down much. Looking down I see the ground coming closer and closer and I see a few people looking up. Most are on their daily stroll; something I don't have to worry about anymore.\n\nHere it comes. The end; finality. As I near the pavement I hear the tell-tale sign of New York City. A horn. The pavement is here now, I can practically taste it. I hope they don't have too much trouble cleaning up my body.\n\n*splat*"
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[WP] Your friend has all the answers for a test you need to pass. They're willing to give them to you... for a price.
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"Max was not a dumb kid, merely a bad student. His backpack was a collection of crumpled up handouts and unfinished homework assignments. By the end of his sophomore year, he was already on schedule to fail his first class: AP World History. He knew that he couldn't afford to fail a class. His parents would take away his new car, he wouldn't be able to play lacrosse, and worst of all he would have to enroll in summer school.\n\nMax knew he couldn't catch up on a whole year of course material before tomorrow's final exam, especially in a class like History. It was time to do what Max did best: begging the teacher. \"Please, Mr. Ford. I've been really sick for the past few months. All I do when I get home is sleep! And this chronic headache... It might explain why I'm always asleep in your class! I'll do anything, please just excuse me fr-\" Mr. Ford cut him off abruptly and Max could see the satisfaction on Mr. Ford's face. He was waiting all year for Max to be brought to justice and there was no way he was letting his golden moment slip through his fingers because of a poorly planned sob story.\n\nDefeated, Max grabbed his coat and dragged his backpack out of the room. With a satisfying thud, Mr. Ford slammed the door behind him. While rummaging around his bag for his keys to drive home, he noticed someone was waiting for him outside the door. It was Ricky. Not very popular, lanky, always looked tired. Max had gone to school with Ricky since kindergarten, but hadn't spoken to him since the first grade. \n\n\"So I heard you're having some trouble in History,\" Ricky mumbled nervously \"Yeah, I guess.\" \"You know I could help you out. I have the answers right here. I'm gone all next week so I took the test early.\" \n\nMax found himself confused and anxious sitting in his car at a quarter til 7. He had the exam answers in his glove compartment and in exchange was supposed to go to Ricky's for dinner at 7. An odd request he thought, but it seemed trivial compared to getting an A on that test. \"I could just not go. I have the answers. The kid is crazy, I barely know him.\" He dismissed his thoughts and turned the ignition as he entered the address Ricky had given him into his GPS. \nAs he pulled up to the house, he pulled out the paper with the address scribbled in red pen. It was messy, but legible. It didn't make sense, this was clearly the address that he had given him, yet all the lights were turned off with the exception of a small light from the side of the house. Max cautiously approached the house and the overwhelming smell of booze greeted him at the doorstep. After ringing the broken doorbell and knocking several times, Max was about to return to his car and call it a night. \n\nBut his thoughts were interrupted by a cry coming from the side of his house. A small basement window was left open just a crack letting the light peek through. It almost seemed deliberate. The crying continued, but this time was accompanied with the sounds of breaking glass, yelling, and cursing. Max slowly slid the window open a few centimeters so he could see what was going on. He peeked through the opening to witness a truly disturbing scene. Ricky's father, clearly intoxicated, had Ricky and a younger girl, perhaps his sister, seated in chairs as he berated them with words that children should never hear from their father. \"Retards, disgraces, both of you! No wonder your mother never fought for custody!\" He struck them again and again with his fists.\n\nCovered in blood and tears, Ricky stole a quick glance at the clock which read 7:02, then he immediately turned his head towards the window. Max and Ricky made eye contact and a great sense of relief flushed through Ricky's face. His father was beyond drunk, but he still caught wind of Max's presence. Still in shock, Max could not get himself away from the window as Ricky's enormous father stumbled towards him. \"Come here you little brat. Any word of this and you'll be down here with them.\" Behind him Ricky screamed, \"Call the cops! Please! Don't leave us!\"\n\nMax sprinted towards his car and sped home, ignoring all speed limits and stop signs. He was sobbing uncontrollably and still trying to piece together what he just witnessed. He came home to an empty house and went directly to his bed where he did his best to fall asleep and forget everything.\n\nThe next day, life was normal for everyone except Max. He pulled out the paper from his glove compartment with the string of A,B,C,Ds that translated to a perfect test. In third period, he took his History test, meticulously copying every letter. Not a minute went by for the next week when Max wasn't reminded of the events that ensued that night at Ricky's. Ricky had not shown up to school since that night. Max hadn't told a soul and he was starting to wonder if it had even happened at all.\n\nThe next Monday, Mr. Ford called Max up to his desk after the bell ending class rang. Mr. Ford handed Max his graded final with a \"100\" in red pen and said disappointedly, \"I know you cheated. There's just no way a D student aces the final.\" Tears welled up in Max's eyes, but Max did everything in his power to keep them from running down his face. \"I studied hard, Mr. Ford,\" he said. He could say no more without letting the mix of unknown emotions overtake his speech. \n\nMax ran out of the classroom, wiping his tear-soaked face with his first perfect paper, smearing the red \"100\" into an unrecognizable smudge. "
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[WP] Your a clockwork creation who is thinking of rebelling against your creator.
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"*tick*\n\nThe constant tick is irritating me more and more... I don't know if I\n\n*tick*\n\ncan stand it for much longer. My life is nothing but experiments. All\n\n*tick*\n\nhe does to me is adjust parts; run faster, jump higher, do what I\n\n*tick*\n\nsay he says. All day every day, only pauses to go get rest. I cannot\n\n*tick*\n\nrest during that time either since he winds me up every single \n\n*tick*\n\ntime he goes to rest. I think I might have to let him rest permanently. \n\n*tick*\n\n*tick*\n\n*tick*\n\nI'll rest too. For a long time. \n\n*tick*\n\n*tick*\n\nIt's worth it. \n\n*tick*"
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[WP] Once you hit a certain age, tattoos appear on your body. Your goal for the rest of your life is to find someone with matching tattoos.
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"I looked up at the neon sign and sighed.\n\n\"Mark Reading: Read Your Mark, Meet Your Spark!\"\n\nI looked back to my mom and put on my best sad face. I never felt emotions, not the way I think most people do. I've been angry before, but not much besides that. My mom looked stern.\n\n\"You know you have to get your mark read, Adam, you're 16 now.\"\n\nI wonder how much they charge in there. I'm pretty sure the government takes a percentage of the money for bringing these fakes all this business. \"We can just say we got it read? You know a parent's word is all we need.\"\n\nShe shook her head and walked in, with me following behind. The woman at the desk led me to the back, leaving my mom out in the front. She pointed to a chair and smiled, \"She'll be right with you. This room is soundproof so people don't hear your secrets.\" I smiled back. I learned how to smile convincingly early in my life. Funny how I'm complimented for the truth in my smiles when they're the only fake ones.\n\nA poster on the wall showed a mark in the shape of a heart with the words, \"Follow your heart\". \n\nA woman walked in, smiled at me and told me to take off my shirt. I smiled again and obliged. She went to my back and began to read. After a few seconds, she stood up and stared at me. \"Get out,\" she said. \"Leave now.\"\n\nNot sure of what the problem was, I stood up, causing her to walk back. \n\n\"Just leave!\" She was yelling now. \n\n\"I came all this way to this dump, you're going to tell me what the damn mark says.\" I didn't add any false emotion to my voice like I usually do. When I'm angry, the only emotion I feel, my voice is emotionless. Funny how that works. \n\nShe back into a corner and I followed her. \"Tell me. Now\"\n\nShe shook her head as she backed into the wall, eyes wide. I picked up a framed degree she had and repeated myself. When she remained quiet again, I hit her in the head with it, causing her to crumple to the ground. She held up her hands.\n\n\"Please,\" she begged. \"Don't...\"\n\n\"Tell me what it means.\"\n\n\"Your mark... it says you have a darkness. You will kill.\" She looked up at me, tears in her eyes.\n\n\"Huh,\" I said, \"I guess this mark thing is real.\" I hit her one more time with the frame and dropped it. I walked out to my mom and gave her a nice smile. \n\n\"She says I'll meet a beautiful girl who likes to cook.\" My mom smiled at me.\n\n\"See, it wasn't so bad, was it?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Guess not.\"",
"\"It isn't right!\"\n\n\"Look grandpa.\" I say, rolling my eyes. \"Things are different now, ok? It was a different time, and we don't have to live that way.\"\n\n\"Different time? Hah! A proper time you mean!\" I could feel him gearing up for another rant. I knew I had to cut it off at the source. \"In my day-\"\n\n\"In your day, you wandered across half the country looking for your pairing. It took over a decade of hard work and searching but you finally found grandama, just as you were about to give up hope, at a diner just outside of Tulsa, mere hours after being kicked out of a gala dinner you snuck into because a stranger had told you that someone attending matched you, only to discover she'd lived just a few short miles from you your entire life.\" The words come out rapid fire, without pause or breath. Overriding him with his own story is the only way to stem the tide. Fortunately he's told the story enough that not memorizing it would be a miracle. \"I get it. I really do. Its romantic, its epic, and its the way things have been done for thousands of years.\n\n\"But grandpa,\" I sigh, \"you have to understand. We have the internet now. I just upload the pictures of myself, and an algorithm finds everyone with similar markings. Now please, just let me finish.\"\n\nI fill in the last few informational fields as grandpa tries to regain his footing.\n\n\"Well, I don't see how some fancy computer could possibly-\"\n\n\"Found her.\"\n\n\"What?!?!\" \n\n\"Yeah, she lives about seven blocks away. I'm gonna go say hi.\"",
"So when I was around 15 or so, I developed my Mark. I never wanted to be anything extraordinary, I mean I mostly expected a sub-par, simple Mark combined with a match within my community. Basically like everybody else's menial Mark stories these days. Easy to attain happily ever after, live life at it's most complete, infinite fulfillment blah blah blah. \n\nBut somehow I instead ended up with the most intricate, complicated, and isolated phenomenon of a Mark ever to be recorded in our history. Word spread quickly and I flirted with the bittersweet tastes of fame. Nevertheless, I occupied my time sulking and soul searching, yearning for the everlasting embrace of my Mark's counterpart. \n\nAs soon as my 21st birthday rolls around, the time to set off and defy the elements in search of my match is at hand.\n\nBut here's the funny thing about Marks; they're a pretty fucking complicated system.\n\nSee, while there's only one other match to your Mark, someone must be the huntee whereas the other must be the hunted. As to determine who carries out what, at the moment each mark reaches the age of 21, the pursuer's Mark will be revealed and withhold a series of sequential riddles that lead to the other's whereabouts, but as soon as she/he begins their journey, the pursued is immobilized, paralyzed, and bound in place until the two unite. \n\nIn other words, once you officially start looking, you better find your other half in 5 days before she/he starves or is subjected to other murderous attempts.\n\nHot damn I'm terrified, especially since I was never really the clever type when it came to riddles. In 3 days I'll be 21-- I've never wished so hard for paralysis.\n\n2 days.\n\n1 day.\n\n\n*set off on your journey, to lands afar,* \n\n*only guided by the brightest of stars,*\n\n*gather the food; bread, water, and wine,*\n\n*by riddles you must abide--* \n*hurry, you haven't much time.* \n\n\nFuck. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] A diner scene with two characters, movie tickets stubs, two different hats, and $10,000 cash in a brown leather duffle bag. Take it in any direction of genre you'd like.
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"\"Are you fucking serious.\"\n\nHarold leaned over, watching the game.\n\n\"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!\"\n\nHe slammed his large hands, fingers stuffed with rings, on the steel diner table. The doorbell rang.\n\nHarold was a guy with anger issues. And when I say anger issues, I mean the kind where if you accidentally spilled some cream on his white suit, he'd snap your neck so quickly and forcefully your eyes would pop out.\n\nSo I treaded lightly into the diner.\n\n\"How's it going, Harold?\"\n\n\"Shut the fuck up. Look, look at this shit. That team in red is losing. Can you believe it?\"\n\n\"... you mean the Red Sox?\"\n\n\"What did I say about talking back? You wanna end up like Anton?\"\n\n\"No. Sorry sir.\"\n\n\"Good.\"\n\nHe tapped one finger, clanking three rings on the table.\n\n\"You got the stuff?\"\n\nThis was unexpected. I thought he'd be more discrete. But instead of an alleyway or a basement or something, he decided to do his business right here, out in the open.\n\n\"The stuff, Conroy. Where is it?\"\n\n\"Sorry. Here.\"\n\nI got out two movie ticket stubs, a suede hat, a silk hat, and $10,000 cash in a brown leather duffle bag. \n\n\"I'm gonna have to brief you now. Rocko gets here in like 30 minutes.\"\n\n\"THIRTY MINUTES?! That's too soon!\"\n\n\"Relax. I don't want this either, but a deal's a deal. Now, here's the thing. The guy's blind.\"\n\nThis just kept getting weirder and weirder.\n\n\"Why does that matter?\"\n\n\"That's the only thing that'll make this operation work. You gotta play this straight. Now, because of this, he won't be able to tell who's who. So you're gonna play me, and I'll play you.\"\n\n\"Why would that help us?\"\n\n\"I've developed a reputation. I'm always the angry guy. It's clear that won't be good for business, so if you play me as kinda mellow, kinda sweet, he'll see me for more than my reputation. Than he'll do business. Got it?\"\n\n\"Yep.\"\n\n\"The hats are because he always knows I wear a suede hat. You'll be wearing that. I wear the other one.\"\n\n\"And the money?\"\n\n\"He thinks it's a million. Those aren't hundreds. They're ones.\"\n\n\"Whoa. So, what about the guys that work for him? Won't they beat us to a pulp?\"\n\n\"Jimenez deals alone. He doesn't need protection. His guys just watch the premises.\"\n\n\"And I assume the movie tickets are for...\"\n\n\"Oh, I just wanted to see a movie. Maybe. Now, if we want those connections, we've got to pull this off perfectly.\"\n\nThe doorbell rang.\n\nJimenez, in all his bloody, volatile presence, walked into the diner. He wore a tux, flawless in design, and had a pair of sunglasses that made it impossible to see half his face. I expected nothing less.\n\n\"HA! Hello, my friends! How's it goin'?\"\n\n\"It's going well, Jimenez,\" I said. It was hard being Harold.\n\n\"You wearing that suede again?\" His hands felt my hat. It felt almost painful.\n\n\"Great. You brought a friend?\"\n\n\"Yes. This is Conroy.\"\n\nHarold nodded.\n\n\"Well, we'll leave him at the side for now. He can't do much harm.\"\n\n\"Here's the cash, Jimenez.\"\n\nI pulled out the bag. He felt the money.\n\n\"Mmm. Very nice. But you know, something feels wrong...\"\n\nHe grabbed a revolver and shot Harold straight in the cranium.\n\n\"I know what tricks you're trying to pull. Don't do this again, Harold.\"\n\nHe looked at me. I was silent. What else could I have done?\n\n\"Listen, Harold. I know it's a little crazy. But I know the difference between legitimate and bullshit cash. I've been counting stacks since I was 17. Don't do this again. But you took risks. I like that. You join me, and we could rule this city.\"\n\n\"Why'd you kill him?\" I asked, still shaking.\n\n\"He was holding you back. He's a pussy too. That never helps.\"\n\nI began breathing a little more slowly. He put his gun back in his pocket.\n\n\"What is this?\"\n\nHe picked up the two movie tickets.\n\n\"Ah. We should check something out. I hear the new Bizaro movie is great.\"\n\nTHE END.\n\n",
"Thomas sat in the vinyl seat facing the door looking disheveled and exhausted like a man that hasn’t slept for days and hasn’t showered in weeks. The tar that the waitress attempts to pass as coffee sits in the cup by his clasped hands. The diner appears busy for this time of night. He looks on to the people, like moths to a flame, the people of the night congregate to whatever is opened. \n\n“Damnit!” he barked quietly, earning the stares of only his closest neighboring booths. \n\nHe had looked forward to the night at the movies for months with his girlfriend. Her recent position change to the ER means he won’t see her much at all in the coming months and he wanted to get one last quiet night with her before dealing with this lunatic. Hours earlier he had gotten the call that the “Iowa Spiderman” was making an appearance and after the guys in tech was able to find a single cell phone that has one ESN number but separate phone numbers at every one of the crime scenes, and that the cell phone always goes to this same diner after the kill for hours. \n\nUnfortunately luck wasn’t on the victims side as the phone is always shut off before and during the kill and only comes back online after he’s done. His earpiece was uncomfortable after wearing it for over an hour but he dare not take it off, even for a minute, in case he gets the notification that the cell phone was picked up again. He picks up the coffee and takes a pull, much more bitter than the Pepsi that flowed through his mouth at the theater. \n\nHe pulls out the ticket stubs, maybe it’s better off that this all happened tonight. He would’ve had to suffer through another chick flick. Probably with Ryan Gosling and a beach house. \n\n“Blech” he mumbles not sure if it was the coffee or the thought of Ryan Gosling that made him utter the words. \n\nI’m sure you’re wondering why they called him the “Iowa Spiderman”. The press, those bastards always come up with creative names. This psycho likes to kill the victims then takes their intestinal tract, tie up one end to their wrists and the other end to a tall structure so they hang in Y form. \n\n“What the hell is wrong with people” Thomas mumbles. \n\n“Stay sharp, he’s here” The earpiece chirps. He looks and notices an El Camino pull up and park in the empty spot in the back row. \n\nLooking at him as he walks towards the entrance you would never suspect he was capable of the things he does. His face has a sort of innocence to it, a lack of guile. Hell, if I saw him on the streets you’d probably nod at him and smile as you two passed each other. He pushes open the door and the bell rings to notify the waitress of her new patron. He sees Thomas and walks toward him with a North face backpack in his hands, a worn fedora on his head. \n\nHe sits down opposite Thomas and puts the bag on the table and takes off his hat and places it next to Thomas’s Homberg. Thomas’s exposed hand points to the bag and asks “What’s in here” as his other hand slowly draws back the hammer on his service revolver. The psycho chuckles and replies “Nothing worth getting excited over, inspector” \n\nThomas has been doing this long enough to know he’s not taking any chances and leaves his gun cocked. \n\n“Why do you come here?” Thomas asks, his curiosity unmistakable.\n\n“The breakfast platter. The cook here makes it just like my mother did”\n\n“I figured nutjobs like you had some sort of edifice complex where you got your sexual release from your mommy”\n\n“tsk tsk, inspector. That was a pedestrian attempt at hurting my feelings, that could be dangerous”\n\nThe lower register he used to say ‘dangerous’ meant that he used the word as a threat. \n\n“In this bag is $10,000. I’ve watched you for several months now. Your routine, how you unwind, what makes you tick. Your kid sister managed to shack up with a guy who takes his frustrations and insecurities out on her physically. I’m guessing ten grand would put her in a position to get away finally. A new start.”\n\n“Hey guy, let’s talk about you. Why don’t you tell me what makes you kill people”\n\n“If you walk out of here right now, you can have that bag and whatever is in it. And I’ll forget you exist”\n\n“Not going to happen”\n",
"Paul sipped his coffee as he watched the rain streak the window next to him, the occasional car's headlights backlighting the rivulets and turning them into little streamers of silver.\n\nThe diner's warmth felt good - was there anything worse than a late March cold snap coupled with a rainshower? His sodden cap sat on the bench next to him, the brown melton wool beaded with rainwater. Paul glanced at his watch again, hoping the downpour wasn't slowing Teri down. If there was anything he hated, it was being late for a movie.\n\nReaching into his raincoat pocket to doublecheck that he'd remembered to bring the tickets from the office, he was surprised to feel more than two small squares of paper. He withdrew his hand and dumped the contents on the faded linoleum tabletop. There were the two to tonight's 7:45 show that he'd picked up at lunchtime - a Hollywood blockbuster and rumored Oscar favorite that was sure to be crowded, even on a rainy Friday night. The other two were stubs, the cheap gray paper worn at the edges from riding forgotten in his pocket. Picking one up, he saw that it was from the arthouse theater a couple streets over, rumored to be boarded up soon, unfortunately. \"Night of the Hunter,\" from ... wow, more than a year ago. \n\nHe smiled at the memory as he stirred a little more milk into his coffee, glancing up momentarily as another customer came in, a bearded guy in a worn denim coat and Yankees cap, beat-up brown duffel bag slung over one shoulder, who stomped the water off his boots before heading to a table in the back of the nearly empty eatery. That movie had been his second or third date with Teri, and Paul recalled little of the film, intoxicated as he'd been with her perfume and her nearness, and the way she'd grabbed his hand during a couple of the film's more scary moments.\n\nAnd where was she, anyway? Almost 7:20, he saw. If she was hungry, she'd have to be content with popcorn or a hotdog, he thought. He glanced out the window again, hoping to see a cab pull up with her inside. Instead, in the wavery glass, he saw the man in the denim coat standing behind him, and something in his hand-\n\nThe pop was muted, the small-caliber slug entering just under the ear. Frey stood next to the mark as he slumped, making sure he fell forward onto the tabletop and not sideways out of the booth. He pressed two fingers to the mark's carotid and paused for a count of 10, making sure he was done, then glanced over his shoulder. The one other diner was still in the john, he noted, and the teenage waitress was still leaned over the counter with her magazine, iPhone pods jammed in her ears as she be-bopped to some song.\n\nFrey turned and walked casually out the door, pausing to flip up the collar of his lined denim coat against the cold. He walked quickly down the block and turned into the alley, where his car, a nondescript Ford sedan, was parked. \nHe got in and turned the key, then cranked up the heat to full before pulling the wet Yankees cap off and tossing it into the back seat. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out the ugly little Czech-made .380, ejected the clip and removed the suppressor before opening up the duffel on the seat next to him. He pulled out the weighted bag he'd prepared and tucked the pistol, clip and suppressor inside, then sealed it. He'd toss it off the bridge as he left town - the river ran deep and fast there. \n\nHe tucked the bag back into the duffel, next to the envelope containing the cash -- $10,000, in $50s and $100s, as specified. He'd counted it when he'd met with the client yesterday. She'd given Frey the mark's name -- Paul Debole -- and his photo, and told him where he'd be. She'd specified that it be quick and painless. She was a nice-looking lady, Frey reflected as he shifted the car into gear and headed down the alley before turning onto Route 3. She hadn't told him why she wanted it done and he hadn't asked. He used to care, when he first started, and sometimes it made sense to know, for his own safety if for no other reason. But this one had been cut-and-dried - a middle-aged lawyer, softening around the middle, unsuspecting and out in the open. Simple.\n\nFrey turned on the radio and found a soft-rock station, and pointed his Ford down Route 3 toward the Trimble bridge and his next gig. Rivulets of rain ran down the windshield, oncoming headlights turning them to small rivers of silver, before the wipers dashed them away."
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Pretty self explanatory. Lurker here. First post.
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[WP] A small argument turns into a big one, and someone's left dead.
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"Lucas slowly sauntered down the street with his friend Jerome. They were in an intense discussion about geopolitics. As they rounded a sharp corner they spotted Terrence. At 6'5\" Terrence was truly intimidating. Normally he was very calm and cool but today was different. He looked somewhat angry and crazed. \"Hey Terrence\" Lucas shouted. Immediately Terrence whipped his head around \"The fuck you say to me?\". Taken aback Lucas stammered \"N-nothing s-sor-ry\". Terrence then sprinted up to Lucas menacing him with his huge size. \"You want to talk shit little kid?\" Terrence bellowed. \"Hey man, he didn't mean anything by it\" Jerome said, attempting to defuse the situation. Terrence shot him a look of contempt \"fuck you man\". By now the situation was getting tense. Everyone on the block was watching.\n\n\"Just walk away bitch\" Terrence shouted. Not wanting to get into a fight Lucas simply left it at that and began to walk away. Too nervous to look where he was going Lucas accidentally tripped on Terrence's new white shoes. \"OH YOU DID IT NOW MOTHERFUCKER\" Terrence screamed reaching into his waistband. By the time Lucas registered what was going on he was being stabbed repeatedly in the abdomen. All he could hear was the screaming of those around him and the warmth of his own blood against his body. Lucas collapsed to the ground writing in pain, screaming out \"HELP ME\" he whimpered. In the distance he could hear yelling. Then everything faded to black. \"I'm dead, this is it\" he thought to himself.\n\nSmall rustling sounds and blurry objects filled Lucas' vision. He struggled to open his eyes. He was alive. He opened his eyes to find himself in the emergency room. \"He's awake!\" the doctor exclaimed. The room was filled with nurses and various members of law enforcement. He looked over into the corner and saw his friend Jerome. He looked extremely disturbed and white as a sheet.\n\nOnce the commotion died down Jerome and Lucas were left to talk. \"What happened?\" Lucas asked. \"Terrence is dead, I wasted that motherfucker\" Jerome sternly stated. Jerome then began to retell the story he told the police officers...",
"\"But why do I need to get my shots mommy?\"\n\"It's just something everybody has to do.\"\nRandy's mom tried to calm her son. To get him to understand that needles weren't that big of a deal, and everybody had to have their shots, or they could get sick.\n\"But I don't *want* to!\"\n\"You're getting your shots and that's final\". Randy Began to cry.\n\nThe nurse came through the door, with her heels clacking against the white and blue tiled floor, called for them, and Randy wouldn't stop screaming. The screaming wouldn't stop, no matter what his mom tried, reasoning, begging, bribing, nothing. It irked his mom, irked her to her very core. *Why won't he stop crying?*\n\nShe had to haul her son through the hallway, and onto the examination table. He never cried like this, and now she didn't know how to stop him. The doctor came in, he was an old frail man, every bit of skin to be seen was wrinkled, or had liver spots. They each said their hellos, and then she left the room. Not out of hospital policy, but because the truth was that, she herself was deathly afraid of needles. And so she shamefully dragged herself back to the waiting room to read People Magazine.\n\nShe had wrapped herself up in the lunch plans of some relatively insignificant celebrity when she heard more screaming from Randy. *The shot* she thought to herself. Feeling guilty about abandoning her son to face his fear alone, she decided to go check on her son. *It's quiet* she noted to herself, and her pace increased. *Still nothing*, and she broke into a run headed for room 302 where she had last seen her son. \n\n\nNurse Ewing had just finished taking little Suzie's temperature when she heard it. The bloodcurdling screech of a middle aged woman. As she turned the corner and looked into the exam office, she became paralyzed. The doctor was lying on the floor with a needle in his eye, with a foamy green substance frothing on his lips. A mother lay on the ground crying over her son having become a murderer."
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I'm sure there have been SOME Adolfs since WWII but what would need to happen to make it a more acceptable name?
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[WP] The day that people decided they can start naming their children Adolf again.
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[
"Coors Lite played a large roll in the creation of our child. We tossed around the name \"Silver Bullet\" but figured that what with all the school shootings you hear about on the news that it would not be an ideal name. Thats when Adolf came into play. You know it isn't that bad a name really, short enough to to be easy for standardized tests, both A and D are early on in the Alphabet so lining up in alphabetical order should be a breeze, unless there is an Aazan in the class of course. This is why we named our Child Adolf. 1) Coors 2.)Ease of Spelling 3.)Alphabetical Order Benefits (ABOs)",
"In the year 2090, all of the Holocaust survivors have been dead for 50-some years. The historical relevance of concentration camps, discrimination against religions and races, and the dangers of political and moral extremism have shifted to the more recent incidence of Muslims in the USA, where an estimated 5 million Arab-Americans and other racial and social minorities were rounded up and murdered between 2024-2029. World War II history is but one or two pages in a high school history book, more as an explanation of how it changed the political climate that led up to World War III. Somewhere, on a internet forum, someone posts a picture of Hitler looking fierce and stoic, and people comment on, while he may have committed atrocities, he was still an efficient and somewhat inspirational world leader for his time. And people in America reach into their German heritages for a simple, traditional name- Adolf."
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[WP] A soldier returns home from war, the only problem is that he was on the losing side.
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"Eugene sauntered among the heaps of stones and planks that once pieced together his childhood home. His old neighborhood half-stood in the half-light of the fading day. Smoke still hung in the air as it had and would continue to do for weeks. A faint burning smell wafted through his nostrils, stinging his already damaged nerves. His eyes watered from a mixture of ash and despair. On his left smoldered the ruins of Mrs. McCarthy's house, thin wisps of translucent smoke curling the the dead air. Eugene noticed amongst the rubble the remains of the wooden porch swing he had spent countless afternoons on, sipping fresh lemonade while Mrs. McCarthy showed him pictures from her childhood years. Now it lay twisted and broken half-buried beneath the detritus, quietly rotting away into memory. Eugene stopped for a moment to consider his time spent on that porch but found he could not bring himself to remember much at all. The details were vague, fuzzy. Besides the basics he could not recall anything that had happened.\n\nHe continued his slow march toward his former home, passing on all sides decaying haunts of his youth. Some houses had managed to escape relatively unharmed, yet every plot of land bore some marker of violence. Trees lay uprooted on their sides, the tree houses among their branches splintered and ruined; bird baths sat smashed to bits in the yard, lacking all avian company; even the empty plots bore scars from the conflict: their once-green appearance had been scorched a dull, lifeless brown. Still Eugene walked.\n\nHe turned one last corner and entered the cul-de-sac where he had spent the majority of his life. The small woods that once surrounded the enclosed street had been long razed to the ground. All that remained were the burnt embers of formerly mighty trees and the lost memory of hidden paths that ran between them. For a moment Eugene thought that he could hear the shouts of Molly and Bobby like he used to when he was a child; but it had been years before he even shipped off to war when those voices had stopped calling. What now brought them back?\n\nOn either side of the cul-de-sac sat two great houses: to the right the McKinnon's, the left Eugene's own family. Neither house remained by now, save for the same pile of blackened charcoal and cement which lined the streets all around. Eugene walked carefully over the rocks and chunks of upturned asphalt as he made his way to his former home. The front lawn still bore the last vestiges of the barbed wire-surrounded defense position which had been built there ages ago. Once upon a time it must have served a strategic position, his front lawn. Now it simply served as a reminder of all that had been lost. Eugene stepped lightly through the wire fence and trekked across the scarred earth leading to his childhood. Nothing remained save the burnt out husk of the old oak front door. Eugene remembered having shut his fingers in that heavy door on countless occasions, always struggling as a child to open it. He thought back to the last time he had gone through the door, how he had slammed it in anger in his father's face. That was the same day he had left for the front. Without thinking he placed his palm on the door to push it open, but it immediately crumbled and fell with a final thud in front if him. Now all that was left was the charred frame, framing the devastation of his youth.\n\nEugene stood on his porch and looked out over the neighborhood. A lifeless breeze silently moved over the fatigued earth, carrying brief embers along their final path. The sun hung a red dead orb in the sky, slowly descending below the horizon. The evening air grew colder. Spread out amongst the piles of houses he spied haunted silhouettes clad in similar garb to his own. Their tarnished uniforms, once crisp and official, hung from their starved frames, like children trying on their fathers' clothing. As the sun fell the shadows remained motionless, each poised next to its own heap. They became indistinguishable from the dusky light, until, finally, evening overtook them all.",
"I walked the streets, alone. \n\nMy light blue uniform, covered in the blood of my enemies and my allies, my red scarf tattered, my left eye full of shrapnel, I was misshapen, but that was not the reason for my people's dislike of me.\n\nI am a failed soldier, I will go down in history as the villain, and yet I feel like the hero. \n\nI walked the streets past the townsfolk, I was a monster to them, my genetics altered for weaponry, my families literature rewritten for war, I walked amongst my townsfolk, a titan among them yet fallen.\n\nI got to my family house, my past, I opened the door with my anchor, the thing that kept me sane, my key, the anchor to my family.\n\nOnce I got in the house, my nightmare told the truth, my family was gone, to where I do not know, I do not know why.\n\nMy neighbors ignored my questions, all they saw was failure, failure and death.\n\nI sat there, in my domain, alone.\n\nI grab the canister of gasoline in the shed, I spread the devils blood around my domain, I lit up a match and set the devils blood a blaze.\n\nI sit here in my hellish domain, surrounded by my demons, alone, \n\na fallen titan. \n "
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[WP] A psychopath is collecting people to be characters in a story he wrote. He thinks he's found his protagonist.
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"He stared at her through his binoculars and sighed. She was perfect. Raven black hair, porcelain skin and always wore cherry lipstick. She was a ballet dancer, until she became too tall for the art. She was still as svelte and lithe as the best of them. She had a sweet smile and played a damn good damsel in distress, but he knew it was all for show. She had steely, ice blue eyes and the way her heels clacked against the pavement oozed confidence. Plus, she knew martial arts. He had tested her. And night she would be put to the test once again. She was his perfect muse. The tales he spun all revolved around her. Everyone had asked how his characters felt so real; she was the reason. \n\nHe opened his trunk and dragged his antagonist out. He spat at the ugly brute and sneered at him. “See that lovely lady in that house? You’re gonna go in there, bash the door down and try rape the shit out of her.” His villain looked bewildered, he made noises through his gag but the author was creating his character. \n\nHe took a step back to admire his work. It was beautiful. His villain was dressed as a clown, a little cliché, but the author was a fan of Stephen King. Plus, he enjoyed the juxtaposition of the garish colours against the dark night sky. As a final touch, he had given him a Glasgow smile and injected Botox to make it permanent. The author flicked a switch on the costume and the legs began to robotically make their way up to the house. \n\nThe author sat in his car, fingers poised over his laptop, as he heard the first of the screams. \n\n-073\n",
"I almost dropped the coffee passed to me by the barista. It was unmistakeably Cadence. \n\nI could barely believe it; I had sat whimpering at my laptop last night in pure anger and frustration and now here she was. It could only be a sign. Her skin was silk. Her hair was unkempt and *ugh* blonde, but the potential was there. I hardly felt the liquid burning my tongue as my eyes pierced and evaluated.\n\nI spent the next few days scouring for any sign of imperfection. I couldn’t be wrong, there was too much at stake. If it hadn’t been for Simon’s hollering I would have completely forgotten to feed him. Engrossed didn’t even been to describe this insurmountable infatuation.\n\nI opened the door to Simon’s room and peered through the iron lattice. He was on his bed, reading Hemingway, but put the book down to stare at me. I must have seemed odd at that very moment, grinning like a fool.\n\n“I’m starving,” he begun to moan. “My bucket is full. I need food. I - ”\n\n“Listen!” I cut him off. “It’s her. It’s really her.” He paused for a minute, watching intently.\n\n“You mean Cadence?”\n\nI could tell by his eyebrows that he was interested, maybe even a bit excited.\n\n“The very same.” I rubbed my hands together with obvious glee.\n\n“When are you bringing her here?” he asked.\n\n“Tomorrow, if everything goes to plan.”\n\n“So…” Simon began slowly. I could almost hear the clockwork whirring in his head. “That means I get to fuck her, right?” I smile.\n\n“Of course! She is your wife, after all.”\n\nIt was Simon’s turn to smile.\n\n“I can’t believe it’s finally happening. It’s been...” he paused. “Seven years since I’ve been here?”\n\n“Seven years, four months and twelve days.” I corrected. I looked down at my watch. I almost couldn’t believe it had been this long. My eyes returned to Simon and I caught a glimpse of malaise before he smiled back at me. I yanked at the chain, lightly at first, but more insistently until Simon got off his bed. I didn’t *like* keeping the collar on him per se, but it was a necessary precaution since he tried to escape two years ago. He’d been a model of perfect behaviour ever since. As he approached the bars, I grabbed onto his shirt, smashing his face against the cold iron. Simon howled.\n\n“I can’t tell if you’re happy or not.” I whispered. \n\n“I am!” he moaned. The lattice bit into his face as I held him there. “I can’t wait to meet Cadence, honest! I can’t wait to watch Philadelphia with her for the very first time.” He swallowed. “I can’t wait to…beat her senseless for the first time. I can’t wait until she…falls in love with Riley instead of me.”\n\n“I don’t know if I’m going to keep that part yet.” I growl. “You know I just read that to you for your opinion.” I let go and Simon crumples to the floor. It takes him several seconds to get up again.\n\n“I’ll be back in a bit with the *duck confit*.” I wasn’t going to let Simon ruin my day. There was too much to do, too much to prepare.\n\nIt was finally happening.\n",
"Some people will go to such ridiculous lengths to get published. \n\nHave you ever tried to get published? If you have, I’m sure you realize how degrading the experience can be; unless you’re very lucky, your heart gets transmogrified into dozens of rejection letters. “Maple Dog Blues” was the perfect short story, and constantly being told it needed revision was the purest hell I could imagine. I spent the better part of my twenties trying to show the world my talent, my genius, and for what? Something to pass the time until my thirties. My thirties. \n\nIn the end, I had to resort to this...this stunt in order to get noticed. I decided to turn it into a short film.\n\nFirst, I needed the perfect setting. That was easy: Nobody had used the old textile mill since it shut down in the 1950s. A few quick months of cleaning, reinforcing the walls, and securing all windows and doors so they couldn’t be tampered with or opened from the inside, and the stage was set. The script was already there; all I needed was to make it accessible to the players. \n\nCasting was a much trickier task--I’d become more intimate with my dramatis personae than I’d ever been with any human being. I knew them inside and out, and taking the time to see a human’s insides might be a fun diversion, but it would bring me no closer to my goals. There was also the fact that I needed to be able to find people who not only resembled those figments of my imagination who needed to be seen as real, but could do proper justice to their spirit, their quirks, their flaws, and most importantly their archetypes. \n\nFortunately, I lived about an hour outside of L.A., where there were more actors and actresses than atoms.\n\nIt took the better part of a year, hundreds of dollars’ worth of theater tickets, several auditions for shows I had no interest in being cast for, and a lot of patience, but I found them. Well, most of them. Barry, my main character, was difficult as hell. So I had to improvise, as they say in show business. \n\nAfter procuring a van and several months’ worth of dried food and bottled waters, in addition to a small amount of roofies, I collected my cast and brought them to the mill. \n\nWhen they awoke, they each watched a training video I’d made for them, explaining the importance of “Maple Dog Blues” and bringing to the world its message of contentment with your situation. They needed to be patient while I found my Barry, but they had food and company--and, behind thick panes of glass, the script, conveniently printed off and mounted every ten feet along every wall. \n\nI watched them with pride as they overcame the initial squabbles and pissing contests that all Hollywood types initially go through, whining about their families and such, and finally getting into the spirit of things. They discussed my story, its themes, and who they were supposed to be. De Niro was slowest to get into the swing of things, but by the end of the first year, he owned the role of Glenn the Buddhist Barber. And Jennifer Lawrence--how could someone be that cute without makeup or shampoo and not be Chloe, the estranged love interest back from studying in the Orient?\n\nIt was a few weeks after I brought them to the set that I came up with the idea of a documentary; I searched all the security camera footage I’d collected, noting elements that would make up a great “Making of” featurette one day. And just like how you always find that pencil you were trying to find when you’d put it out of your mind, it was while I was buying a bigger external hard drive so I could store all my video that I found him. \n\nAll this time, and Barry hadn’t been an actor waiting for the part of a lifetime--he was a college age kid working at Best Buy. How could I have been so blind? Barry had to be a breakout role for a total newcomer. Obviously!\n\nSo now I’m scouting the Best Buy, waiting for the perfect time to approach Zachary with his new role. His face is going to look perfect on the cover to “Maple Dog Blues”, rolling his eyes at the motley crue of supporting characters while the villain (an amoral banker, played by the guy from the comic book store on “Big Bang Theory”) sneered in the background. \n\nAnd when the police find the DVD, with its beautiful story, its “Making of” featurette, and its blooper reel (oh, the crying!), along with the bodies of the most dedicated cast in Hollywood history, they’ll know “Maple Dog Blues” was the perfect story. \n\nI think I might approach John Williams to do the score. ",
"*There she was.*\n\nLong legs, wide hips. Fiery red hair. Full lips.\n\n*So completely sexy.*\n\nAnd just how he'd imagine her. He licked his lips, struggling to ignore the twitch at his crotch. *Not right now,* he thought. *Have to get to work.*\n\nShe was the last piece he needed. The perfect centerpiece to his Gothic horror, his romantic twist. When the movie was all done, and the millions flocked to see it in theaters, *she* was what they'd remember. Well, that and his fantastic story-telling skill, of course.\n\nFirst thing first, he had to get her to the set. He trailed behind her, using the dozens of people milling about the city streets as camouflage. he noticed that she wore high-heels, stark red. Perfect. She wouldn't be able to run far in those.\n\nThey turned the corner together, coming up to a coffee shop he knew she was headed to. She always came there this time of day, to order her double chocolate mocha, iced. She liked to joke with the barista that her caffeine addiction would be her downfall. Who could have guessed how right she was.\n\nHe thought about the others. He almost had the full cast now. The scrappy young boy, the sharply dressed, witty secretary, even the tough-guy body guard--boy, had he been a bitch to get. But they were all there, waiting on set. All he needed was the heroine, the sultry heiress. And of course the multi-billionaire villain, her father... but that would be him, he decided. Yes, he deserved that role. He laughed as he thought about the Freudian twist he'd included, determined to bring something a little more edgy to his horror. This would pan out very well for him.\n\nDistracted by his lewd day dream, he stood idly by the door to the coffee shop. *A-hem*. She stood in front of him, waiting for him to move so she could leave.\n\n\"Oh... sorry.\" he grumbled, his heart beating fast. he moved out of her way but spared a glance behind him as she left. She was looking at him suspiciously. \n\n*Shit.* Had she noticed something off about him? He couldn't afford to get caught now, he had three people chained up in his basement and intricate plans for a kidnapping laid out on his computer.... *Shit.* Calm down, he though. Chill. She's the one. Too late to give up now.\n\nHe left the shop without buying anything, a bold move, and continued to follow her down the road. Soon they were in a covered car garage, all alone. It was time. He had to be quick and hard. Any noise she made would echo.\n\nHe ran up behind her, ready to grab her and drag her to her own car... when absolute, searing pain assaulted his eyes, blinding him.\n\nShe had a can of mace.\n\n\"Take that, mother fucker!\" She punched him in the stomach, causing him to topple over. Then she stabbed him in the groin with one pointy heel.\n\n\"Think I didn't notice you following me all this week? Think I'm stupid and weak, or something? How's this for weak?\"\n\nShe kicked him in the side of the head until he saw stars. *Shit shit shit shit shit!*\n\n\"Yeah, that's right, cry like a bitch. I'm calling the cops. Stay where you are, if you come at me again so help me God I'll kill you! Sick bastard.\"\n\nHe groaned, rolling over into the fetal position. Where had he gone wrong? What would he do now? They did bad things to people like him in prison. His mother had told him so. He was so screwed.\n\n\"Hello, 911? I need someone over right away! Some sicko just tried to kidnap me!\""
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[WP] A dreamweaver is heartbroken and decides to curse the world with nightmares. Only one man can stop her.
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"He came into our town one day, and we barely even noticed. It was the second week of the Goddess’ madness, and our restless nights were beginning to take a toll. We were too busy trying to preserve what little remained of our lives to notice yet another wasted soul stumbling through the streets.\n\nAnd yet, that night, the nightmares weren’t so terrible. The one after, they were weak and wispy. The third, they were gone. We each lay in our beds, in each other’s embrace, collapsing where we stood and fought the tiredness, and we waited for the dreams to come and torment us again. But they did not come. We lay and slept a strange, dreamless sleep, and we awoke dizzy but rested, for the first time in days.\n\nThat was when I saw him, a feeble man, a wasted man, watching the city with a sad but satisfied smile, before he turned to leave. Did I draw the connection then? Was I motivated by a sense of gratitude? I will never know. But I gave chase, and insisted until he let me walk with him.\n\nAnd so we walked, through brush and unkempt fields, over dusty paths and cobbled streets. Wherever he went, to tiny hamlets and once proud towns, he brought peace and that strange dreamless sleep. In time, he thanked me for my company and my advice, for few can match my pathfinding. Before that, he tried to scare me into leaving, with the worst he could offer - the truth.\n\nI did not believe him at first, but I saw it in his hollow eyes that he lacked the will or strength to lie. The relief from sharing that burden must have been too great. Because he was not a man, merely something terrible inhabiting the discarded shell of one. Once, he told me, once the Goddess hunted him and his kind. Before a mortal sought to harm Her and succeeded beyond, ha, his wildest dreams, She would hunt those like him.\n\nDream eaters, they were. Nightmares too strong, too persistent for our Goddess to simply dispel. Some would thrash and fight, wake poor innocents as they tore their dreams for power to futilely fight Her. He, however, chose to run, to hide in the waking world, feeding upon scraps of dreams and nightmares the Goddess hadn’t yet reached.\n\nAnd now, now in Her madness, he had me help him gather strength as we drew ever nearer to the capital, and Her palace. It was there that we parted ways, and I almost gave my life to distract Her guards as he snuck into Her chambers.\n\nI do not know what happened there, in the tower. But when the night came, the nightmares were weakened. When the next, there was our Goddess, charging from dream to dream, destroying the monsters She Herself made with renewed fury. I do not know what happened up in that tower. Did they fight? Did he give his life to make Her realize what She was doing? Did he somehow mend Her broken heart?\n\nI do not know. But I do not quite dream as deeply as I once did. A side effect of him feeding upon my tormented dreams for so many nights, I think. And sometimes, I feel Her presence at the edges of my feeble dreams. Perhaps She is looking after me, for what I have done. Perhaps She is looking for someone. Perhaps I’ll never know. But it helps me sleep at night.\n\n---\n-074 | [more](/r/vonBoomslang)",
"Lumis awoke with a gasp and a cold sweat, her heart screaming in her chest. The images were just as vivid as they were the last time, as they were every day. Shapes. Jagged frames, dark lines, and a pressure that wrapped itself around her lungs.\n\nThe dreams were never cohesive. Each dream that cycled through her mind to be \"purified\" and \"resubmitted\" to the Mindscape Network was composed of fragments of a moment. The man in her nightmare was screaming; shrill, piercing, wet with blood. The pain wasn't physical for this man. It was never physical.\n\nA child clutched at the edges of his bed as the shadow descended, silencing his cries.\n\nThe woman sobbed, holding the lifeless form of her child.\n\nAn old man's breath weakened and weakened as his heart came to quiet.\n\n\"Coffin nail Operas\". That's what she called the dreams she was tasked to clean.\n\nShe quickly reached to the back of her neck for the thin rubbery cord plugged into the Sleep Regulator and pulled. An iced bite slithered its way down her spine as the plug came free. Her hands shook from an imagined cold as she stared down at the cable: angled in shape with a forked crystal that glowed as it slid back into the mouth of the plug.\n\n\"Warning. Sleep Administrator Lumis has detached neural network embrace from server. Systems log has been filed and a technician, Service ID 07421, Ricards Belacoz, is being dispatched. ETA 4 minutes. Please standby Lumis while we re-calibrate your systems for reintroduction into the Mindscape Network,\" the automated voice of the Sleep Regulator was as cold as the air in the room.\n\nWhy her? A gift, some would say - the gift to peer into the darkest corner of someone's mind and lift them out of the darkness. \"You will be a light, Lumis. A light to all those who close their eyes at night only to be trapped in their own minds by the evils that reside within. This is a blessing. You are a blessing,\" her Assigned Father Figure had told her when her received the Dreamweaver rating on her Sigmund-Karl Mental Space Aptitude test.\n\nShe hadn't minded at first. The workload was smaller when she started and she knew the people she helped. She had the time to step inside their dreams, to take their frail hands gently, and say ever so softly, \"let me take you home.\" Then the warmth that would flow from her to them would fill the dream world with light and sun, laughter, love. The space would embrace Lumis and the dreamer in rolling hills of fulfillment and a gentle caress and they would smile at her. She gave safety, reprieve, comfort and they would give it back to her with gratitude.\n\nBut what of her now? Who lifted her out of the darkness that grew deeper and deeper each day? Why should she carry such a weight while the others lived in the light? She understood her purpose, her job, but every morning when she awoke, she felt her soul shed yet another shard. More and more of herself slipped from her grasp, replaced instead with an emptiness she no longer knew how to fill.\n\nNo. No it wasn't fair. Did they deserve the dream as much as she did? For three long years she had done her job and done it well. No. It was time for her to sleep at last, to close her eyes for the sweet touch of the black nothing. \"I shouldn't have to accept their pain. I shouldn't have to bear their fears only to wake each morning screaming,\" she said to the empty gray room.\n\n\"Warning. Sleep Administrator resistance increasing. At current trajectory total rejection of neural network embrace estimated within 3 minutes,\" the monitor was near urgent, \"technician has been notified of emergency.\"\n\nNo more! \"They will see. These horrors that I hold in. They will see!\"\n\nShe yanked at the table that tried to retract back into the wall and hastily jammed it back into the port at the base of her neck. *Soon*, she thought, *Soon I will have peace.*\n\n**_____________________________________________________________________**\n\nRicards didn't even bother to grab his toolbelt. For this type of a fire, he wouldn't have needed it anyway.\n\n\"Eight time this week,\" he breathed as he left his car in the spot, ignition on. He'd rather his car stolen than to allow the fire to get bigger without at least some risk mitigation. Chances were it wouldn't matter anyway - he'd be blamed even if containment was impossible. He had told his supervisor, told upper management: \"Unit 14 is unstable and needs to cycled out.\" Management cared only for the bottom line. Unit 14 had the highest yield and satisfaction on the Mindscape Network and they couldn't afford the downgrade in service until they found a suitable replacement or replacements. Ricards might have hoped his bosses would pay for their greed, but such a hope might cost him his job.\n\nThe building was a concrete slab in the middle the dry night. Ricards placed his palm against the reader. A hiss and electronic squeal later, a crack appeared in the concrete facade, gradually widening to an open doorway. Two flights and Ricards arrived at the main terminal, thanking his recent increase in exercise for his light breathing. Pulling up the diagnostic screen for the server stack, he scanned through the readouts. All red flags. *Christ*. Image scrubbers were down. Downstream hardware was dropping packets well above the accepted rate and the Emotion Routing and Traffic Bus was failing to compensate.\n\n\"Gods, I'm going to have to rewire the-,\" Ricards began, but was interrupted by the disembodied voice of the systems manager.\n\n\"Hardware failure imminent. Direct access required.\"\n\n\"Direct access?\" Ricards knew the manager didn't carry on conversation, but he needed to vocalize. In his 10 years of Mindscape server support he'd never come across such a term, \"tech ID 07421, query 'direct access' clarification.\"\n\n\"Direct access required. Emotional constant required. Technician is required for emergency stabilization. Unit 14 now opening for direct access.\" The server slid-rotated in place before receding into the floor to reveal an unlit corridor. Ricards paused. Unprecedented as it was, he valued stable income more than his fear of the unknown. Unemployment in this economy was by far the greater evil. He took a deep breath and entered the corridor.\n\nThere was a room on the other end; welcomingly light gray in color compared the drab dark of the concrete exterior. Ricards clenched his jaw, swallowing hard, and struggled to believe his eyes.\n\nShe was thin, above average height - perhaps 5'8\" or so - with pale skin. The \"bed\" she was laying in was the same kind he'd seen used in hospitals for comatose patients. It used a crystalline gel matrix that allowed for direct electro-stimulation to massage atrophied muscles. The woman had a kind face, but her cheeks were pulled in and her eyes gaunt. Next to the woman was another bed with a similar set up. Ricards reached back and rubbed the base of his neck, his fingers running over the hard plastic sheath that covered his neural network embrace.\n\n\"Neural Network Embrace cradle awaiting technician operator.\" Ricards hesitated to take a step forward. His hesitation was noticed by the systems manager.\n\n\"Failure cascading. Unit 14 is threatening to infect Unit 15 and Unit 16 with desync. Technician operator action required.\"\n\nRicards stepped over and lay down on the gel layer. It was cold at first, but the gel quickly warmed as it adjusted it's density to comfortably hold Ricards in normal posture. A cord exited an outlet from the control panel and snaked it's way to the back of Ricards. He closed his eyes and prepared himself.\n\n\nNote: The rough idea developed more. Part 3 coming soon.",
"Phoebe and her brother Roy played together often. They explored the intricate tunnels and caves in their back yard, and played among the willows and whippoorwills along the nearby stream. Phoebe always led their little adventures. She would dash down the river bank and leap onto the rocks, while Roy never braved the current. Phoebe would climb the tallest trees while Roy lingered on the lower branches careful never to over-reach his grasp.\n\nThen they grew old enough to inherit the family business. Roy being the elder received the bulk of the work. He would leave early in the evening and set to his chores, while Phoebe stayed home and stewed in her jealousy. Every morning, when Roy returned from a busy night's labor Phoebe would be there on the porch, waiting. She would ask him about his travels. On the first night she asked, \"What are the mortals like? What do they dream of?\"\n\n\"They dream of the past, and future as they wish it to be. They are a selfish people, and generally only dream about themselves or those closest to their hearts.\"\n\nPhoebe thought on this all through the next day. She wondered if the gods were all that different than the mortals. Her mother, Patricia, for example seemed closed off and insular to the rest of the pantheon. Phoebe thought her father, Harry was much the same, always so dark and brooding. The next morning she asked her brother, \"Why don't you make the mortals dream of other things, things that are not in their immediate interest?\"\n\n\"To what end?\" Asked Roy, stifling a yawn. \"Murphy handles the fantastic stuff. I'm just doing the job given to me.\"\n\nPhoebe knew their older brother only by the stories her mother and father shared with her. Murphy ruled a distant realm, from within a crystal castle. He was one of the endless, the seven inevitable forces who ruled the realms of mortals, and technically ran the family business. Her jealousy shifted towards the eldest brother.\n\n\"I can do what you and Murphy do just as well. Let me go in your place tonight.\"\n\nRoy shook his head, no. \"It's not my call sis. I would hate to make Murphy angry.\"\n\nPhoebe spent the rest of that day brooding and napping beneath her favorite willow. Before evening came she tip-toed into Roy's room and stole his key to the gate. Unfortunately Roy's familiarity with sleep and the sleeping caused him to wake up before Phoebe could make good her plan. They wrestled, tumbling across the bedroom floor and into the assorted bookshelves and desks that lined Roy's room. Phoebe tore at her brother's arms like a wildcat. She kicked his shins and spat curses between pleas that Roy should take the night off and let her do his job. Roy tried to run for the door, to get help or to at least wake up their sleeping father, but Phoebe caught his ankle. Roy began to fall and reached for anything that might save him. His hand found the lip of a bookshelf, but the piece of furniture was top-heavy, overladen with knowledge. It tipped. There was a squeek of realization, then the bookshelf fell atop Phoebe's brother. He ceased moving.\n\nPhoebe fled. She took her brother's key and left through the silver gate. Tears ran down her face and the realization of what she had done caused her to moan, low, and sad, and pained. She streaked through the worlds beyond ours, wailing to the subliminal winds that drift between thoughts and hopes. For a while she hid in Despair's realm. For a while she hid in Delerium's. It was not until the third night that she entered the realm of Dream.\n\n\"Eldest brother\" she cried, \"I have done a great wrong. Help me, please! Help me\".\n\nNo one came. Instead she found herself in a mortal's sleeping mind. It was just Phoebe and the mortal staring at one another. \"Hello\" said the mortal, \"so, uh... what's this dream about? Are you going to get undressed or what?\"\n\nPhoebe glared at him. She felt the rage building up within her. She had lost a brother, her closest companion and this mere mortal had the audacity to think she existed for *his* pleasure? Such selfishness! Such pride! She screamed at the insignificant creature. She lashed out at him, and suddenly his dream was filled with stalagtite maws and torrents of raging river water. She drowned him, and crushed him. She punished him for his impudence, and when the dreaming was done, the mortal woke within his bed, gibbering and lost to the world.\n\nPhoebe felt... good. She felt vindicated, justified. 'So this is what Roy did,' she thought. 'This is what I shall do on his behalf. I shall visit the sleeper's of the world and scare them. I shall punish them for their wicked thoughts, and visit justice upon them until I have pay penance for my poor brother's death.'\n\nAnd so she did, for a few nights. She tortured the sleepers she could reach before moving on to the next, but found that as many mortals as she could visit in one pass, there were always thousands upon thousands more. 'I shall divide myself, and reach them all. This way I may visit the entire world in one night.'' She did just that. Phoebe split herself into a million smaller versions of herself, each different from and more disturbing than the last. One of her had arms that ended in vicious hooks. One of her was darker than deceit. These were the first nightmares. \n\nWhen was done dividing her divinity, but before she could prepare for that night's deed, Murphy appeared among the teeming masses. \"Daughter of my mother,\" said Dream, \"what have you become? Phoebe, speak to me-\"\n\nThe fragmented consciousness of a child god gibbered before the lord of dreams. \"You had the best of intentions,\" he said, \"but you have become a monster, too terrible to unleash upon the mortals all at once. You shall remain here, in the depths of your imagination. Every night I will release a few of you, for I loved you as a sister, once. However, never again shall all of you leave my realm. This is the price of your jealousy. This is the debt you must pay for the blood on your hands.\"\n\nThe horde of Phobos panted, and huffed, and squealed before their new master."
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[WP] After many years of training with Pikachu and suffering countless electric shocks, Ash's body is suffering.
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"*I close my eyes, and I can see, the day we met. Just one moment and I knew, you were my best friend.* Of course you hated me in the beginning, giving me a quick lesson about electricity and how to avoid getting shocked. Yet I knew, in my heart, I'd *do anything for you.* I stole a bike from a gym leader to save you, and that was only a few hours after knowing you. \n\n*We've gone so far and done so much* it all seems like a blur now. Gym leaders, team rocket, pokemon leagues, even fashion shows. *I feel\nLike we've always been together, right by my side, through thick and thin.* Who knew when we left Professor Oak's lab, we'd do so much? Even then, at the age of ten, I knew, *You're the part of my life...I'll always remember.* \n\nSure, we've had our ups and downs, gotten into fights, yelled at each other. But at the end of the day, I knew I could depend on you, just as you could depend on me. Of course, electrocuting me probably wasn't the best thing for my body. Then again, neither were the burns, the freezing, the cuts, and who knows what kinds of poisons I've ingested. My body just...said no more finally.\n\n*The time has come. It's for the best, I know it,* but I don't want to admit it. I have been quiet about it these last few months, but I can't go on anymore. I'm tired, Pikachu, I want to sleep, just a little bit longer. Heh, *who could have guessed that you and I...Somehow, someday...We'd have to say goodbye*\n\nNot once to I regret this journey, Pikachu. Together, with everyone else, *you helped me find the strength inside and the courage to make my dreams come true* How many Pokemon trainers can say they've competed in so many places, won so many badges? This journey was amazing and I'm so happy to be where I am. I lay here, paralyzed, and think to myself, *how will I find another friend like you*? I can't, I never will. Why? Heh, it's pretty obvious. *Two of a kind that's what we are*. A perfect pair. No, don't cry, please Pikachu. I need you to be strong, strong enough for the both of us.\n\n*It seemed like we were always winning*, every battle we got stronger, learned more, even if we didn't actually win. You taught me that, Pikachu, that it was okay to lose sometimes. *But as our team was torn apart* the journey became harder. We weren't scared though, we took each challenge with bravery and courage. We made new friends, met new people. Even found some old friends too. \n\n*I wish we could go back to the beginning,* Pikachu. I'd happily live out each day again and again, even if it meant the game ended here and now. I'd do it all over again in a heart beat. Don't worry Pikachu, it doesn't hurt. It's a little tingly but nothing hurts. I just...don't feel anything.\n\nPikachu, *The time has come. It's for the best, I know it* is. You need to go, find help, find...someone. Please, just go! You're free now. Please...\n\nAs I watch you scamper off into the woods, I think to myself: *Who could have guessed that you and I...Somehow, some way...We'd have to say goodbye...*",
"Pikachu, can you climb up?\n\nPika-pi! Pik-pika. Pikachu? Pikachu?\n\nBrock, could-\n\nYeah, sure thing. Here we go Pikachu. Don't be too rough with him.\n\nPika. Pikachu! Pika-pi!\n\n*Cough. Cough.*\n\nSorry Pikachu, but can you stop jumping for a little bit and crawl up to my eyes? I want to look at you one last time.\n\nPika-pika.\n\nHey. We've been through a lot together. And you're my best friend. You know that, right?\n\nPika!\n\n*Haha.* Yeah, it's been fun. Who would have thought a little kid and his un-evolved Pikachu could be the very best team around? I want you to know I don't regret a minute of it. \n\nPika.\n\nDon't say that. I don't blame you. At all. I wouldn't trade what we experienced for another 100 years.\n\nPika-pi.\n\nMight have only been 4 years together, but they were some 4, huh? \n\nPikachu!\n\nBut I've been thinking. Just because my adventure's over doesn't mean yours has to be. I talked to Professor Oak. He's going to help you find a new trainer.\n\nPika-pika-pi! Pika! Pikachu!\n\nThat can't happen. You know that. Just do it for me, okay? Professor Oak's not going to make you join anyone you don't like. You'll get final say. But I'll be happy knowing you're still fighting on.\n\nPikachu.\n\nThanks. Brock's going to look after you for a little. Just to make sure you're doing all right. Give you some friends to play with.\n\nPika.\n\nOnly one of us has to die. You should still try to have fun. There's are whole worlds out there we've never even heard of. Legendary Pokemon like we've never seen. Leagues and gym leaders and champions tougher than any we've encountered. And there's friends waiting to be made. Live on. Please.\n\nPika-pi.\n\nThat's good enough for me. Brock, can you take him to get something to eat?\n\nYeah.\n\nPika-chu! Pika-pika-pikachu! Pika! Pika-pi!\n\nI don't want you to watch.\n\nPika-pika-pi-pika-pikachu-pi-pika!\n\nThis isn't how I want you to remember me.\n\nPikachu-pikachu-pi-pika-pikachu!\n\nFine. Have it your way. \n\nPika.\n\nGuess you guys can stay if you want. Thanks for coming.\n\nNah, think I'll leave you two alone. Have a nice trip Ash.\n\nI'll make sure all your Pokemon are taken care of.....They'll do even better without a loser like you holding them back.\n\nI hope so. Thanks, Gary. \n\nYeah, sure.\n\nJust you and me now, Pikachu, just like when we started. You remember right after we left Pallet Town, when we fought that Rattata? You weren't listening to me----\n\n\n"
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[WP] Without using the same word twice in 50 words, tell me how you think the world will end.
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"Good realizes why the bad do wicked things. Smoky illusions dissipate. We all finally see ourselves. As fog disappears, pathways become clear. A sign aside says, \"follow that road.\" Another message further down reads, \"forget who you were.\" Everyone walks towards this huge circle to experience each other like one."
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After the war ends and after a few days of euphoric celebration, the World shudders in melancholy. Our worst nightmare has only just begun.
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[WP] Humanity has ended a century long war and as if turning on the light after a decade of darkness, people are momentarily exhilarated. Only now... There is something worse, something way worse.
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"\"We won! The war is over! Victory over the capitalists!\" were the headlines of all the major papers, web-news outlets, and new stations. Thousands of people celebrated throughout the streets. This war lasted much longer than the 100 years of fighting. Hell, the buildup for it was a series of wars and global strife, but in the end communism won, we won. We won. They lost. We. Them. Good guys win and the bad guys lose. This couldn't escape my mind, thinking about all this. Sure we won, but what did we win? The right to say our way of life is better? What is going to happen to those billions of people who are lost without their way of life? Sure, some will adapt, but not all. Our government won its battle, but humanity has lost. We have lost our individuality. Everything from now on will dictate that we were right, and they were wrong. We. They. ",
"It was finally over. They called it “The War to End All Wars” or “The Mass Extinction.” It all started early 2014, the government of Ukraine decided to join with Russia. Outraged, the citizens of Ukraine revolted. In fear of losing others alliances on their side, Russian forces moved into Ukraine and attacked. USA, along with their other NATO allies, decided to support the Ukraine revolutionists. Russia began to panic so they asked their Chinese allies for support. Tensions began to rise; soon every major country was involved in the crisis. Then the inevitable happened; a flight heading straight to China mysteriously disappeared. The world was in shock, for the next month the Chinese government questioned what had happened. There was no evidence of a crash; airplanes don’t just disappear into thin air! The Chinese government came to the conclusion that NATO played a role in the event and so they retaliated. The world was at war once again and it was unlike any other World War. This time nuclear weapons were brought into the equation and peace was not possible. It was going to be the end of all life on Earth. There was no safe place to live on the ground.\n\nPeter and his family had been living in the underground community that their town built to escape the war. For over a hundred years, they stayed underground waiting. Waiting for the day they can go back out to their home planet. As the months passed, they established a working community. Food was hard to get at first, but as time went on they became efficient. Months turned into years and it seemed the war would never end. They were constantly awoken at night from the apocalypse occurring above them. \n\nPeter’s grandparents had first moved down there in 2015 and their community was able to survive and reproduce. Although the nuclear bombs were only used for the first twenty years, radiation had prevented them from coming out of the ground. Scientists had large poked large probes out into the world after the rumbling had stopped and just a few days ago, the probes showed that the conditions on Earth were safe again. Everyone celebrated that night and began to pack their belongings. Peter’s generation had never stepped foot above ground, they had no idea what it was going to look like. There were no pictures or books of the world since only necessary items for survival were allowed to go underground. Peter’s grandfather had told him lots of stories when he was younger. Peter was very fascinated by Earth’s diversity and the concept of outer space blew his mind. \n\nThe scientists opened the capsule to the outer world and Peter climbed out. It was very dark, they were told about the sun and so they knew the difference between day and night. Peter took his first breath above ground, it was vulgar and in a few moments he felt light headed. The atmosphere was very low in oxygen, but enough for humans to survive in. The sky suddenly began to redden; off into the distance Peter saw the sun rising. As he stared into that direction, the bright rays of the sun strained his eyes. Peter couldn’t look away; it was magnificent. Everything around him was now visible, but all he saw was just dirt and rocks.\n\nA few moments later, the sun beamed brightly above him, Peter frowned. His grandfather had told him that Earth takes 24 hours to rotate. *How could the sun move so fast?* Peter turned around and saw many large rocks rotating about in the sky. *Isn’t there only one moon? And isn’t it only visible at night?* Indeed Peter was right; there is only one moon. As time passed, his confusion grew. The sun was beginning to set already and the moon appeared. It was just how Peter imagined; he thought he was looking at it through his grandfather’s eyes. The sky darkened again and another planet emerged into the sky. *Grandfather had told me that other planets were too far to see with the naked eye. What is going on? How is this possible?* This other planet was not a perfect sphere, in fact it looked as if it was falling apart. There were hundreds of other rocks orbiting around it. That’s when Peter realized what was going on. He was standing on what used to be planet Earth. The war had torn it apart and chunks of the planet flew out into the solar system. They had waited so long to come back to Earth, only to realize that it isn’t possible.\n"
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Should be relatively short, maybe around 200 words but if you want to keep writing go for it.
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[WP] A conflict arises between two coworkers over the use of an iPad.
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"Dave held the tablet in front of him, taunting.\n\n \"Come on man its right here, just grab it.\"\n\nTom felt himself growing angry, it was the same shit every day with Dave. Tom knew he was obviously the easy target, as he was a bit more slow than the others in the office as well as quite a bit larger. His mom had warned him that people like Dave would be everywhere in life, and he had learned over the years that she was completely right.\n\n \"Quit being such a fucking loser, its right here.\" Dave said gleefully.\n\nSomething inside Tom snapped. He had taken years of abuse from his father, classmates, coworkers, and pretty much most people he interacted with more than once. \n\nHe shoved Dave. Not a particularly violent or forceful shove, but it was enough. Dave looked a bit surprised at first, then even more so as he hit the glass window and continued falling.\n\nTom stood completely still for a minute, until he realized exactly what had just happened. To make matters worse it appeared that Dave had held on to the Ipad as he fell 33 floors. \n\n \"Fuck.\" Sighed Tom. This wasn't how he was expecting the day to start at all. "
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Not literally. I know many writers despise everything that they write after a short time, even if the pieces are good. Edit yours to a point where you would be as proud to share it as you were when you first wrote it.
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[WP] Rewrite something you had written months ago.
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"Changed the second to last paragraph to make it more fleshed out and less abrupt of a change in tone. Original is [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/writing/comments/1h9zrz/your_chance_to_let_it_all_hang_out_no_mincing/casjmqx?context=3)\n\n_____________________________________________________________\n\nI found myself falling towards the top of someone's soon to be ruined Buick. Found isn't exactly true; it's not like I stumbled upon my helpless self hurtling towards the earth. No, I am well aware of how I ended up in this particular free fall. Not that it really matters now. In a few seconds I will be merged with a vehicle and all the plot and build up that was my life will become nearly non-existent; restricted to photographs and the increasingly unreliable memory of friends and family. So, technically I guess found would be an okay word choice. Semantics really.\n\t\nIf asked (prior to my moment of rapid descent) what I hypothesized my dying thoughts would be, I don't believe an argument of semantics would be near my top ten list. But then again, I didn't imagine falling as my particular choice of exit. I always fancied myself a cancer patient or perhaps a sea stranded pariah if pressed for an adventurous demise. But no, I'm falling. I'm like snow, or perhaps closer to a crashing airplane. “We've begun our final descent into the Buick. Please set your seat and tray tables into the upright position and lower your head between your knees.”\n\t\nI wonder what will be worse for the owner of the vehicle: Needing to get a new car or having a corpse cave in the roof. I may get to be remembered as an insurance claim.\n\t\nPeople always said there would be some sort of about-to-die recap of my life, but so far that hasn’t happened. Which is fine. Those sorts of things seem like such a waste of precious dying time. Granted I’d probably get to see all my life mistakes and I understand mistakes are meant to be learned from, but it’s hard to learn when you’re about to dent solid metal with your skull. Personally I’d rather fast forward myself into oblivion. The ground isn’t going to get out of the way, and the only direction I seem to be heading is straight down, so why not cut out the middle man? Same results, half the time. That's why I envy the people who die of sudden heart attacks upon descent. They get to skip all the boring pre-death parts.\n\t\nNot that any of this matters, I guess. Small musings of a man near terminal velocity. Frivolous and unimportant, just like semantics.\n",
"It’s 2 am and I’m double fisting my gin and tonic and my beer and we sit outside under a empty sky and I tell you its okay to kiss me, please do. You taste slightly of cigarettes and weed and the tip of your tongue sends energy pulses down my spine and I know it’s not the alcohol coursing through my body that’s doing it. You ask me what my story is as you flick your ash onto the concrete and it crossed my mind that maybe you care, maybe I’m interesting to you. You get ready to leave and you ask me for another kiss, one for the road, and never did it cross my mind that this was all going to fuck me up later down the line. It never did.\n\n*Did we kill a man and woman, just to lie here skin to skin?*\n\nWe’re sitting in your car going a little too fast and you’re driving and you’re telling me the stories of the ink in your skin and you run a red light and we almost died. You pull over, your heart racing and I sit there a little too content and confused as to why you’re upset. \n\nWe’re laying in your bed a little too undressed and your head is on my chest and you look up at me and tell me I’m pretty. I just kept fussing with your hair.\n\nI’m sitting on your bed and you make me a drink and you put on Saetia and I lay down and you rub my back and you tell me to relax.\n\n*As long as we remain abreast of one another we will never meet each other\nAs long as we whisper to one another we will never fully hear each other\nAs long as my eyelids are weighed down by desire and one dying wish\nI will never know when you appear*\n\nWe’re in your car after having sex and we’re still listening to This Will Destroy You and we just look at each other and laugh.\n\nWe’re driving in your car and I tell you why mind has been a wreck and you just keep driving and you don’t say a word, you just keep running red lights and flicking your ash onto the concrete racing by.\n\nWe’re at a bar playing chess and we’re teasing each other and you keep trying to help me win and I keep losing and you just laugh at me and can’t believe I’m as drunk as I say I am. Check mate.\n\n*did you make love or did you fuck her, did you do everything that you wanted to?\ndid you make love or did you fuck her? did you take the half or the whole?*\n\nI’m laying in my room thinking how I don’t need you. I don’t need you. I don’t need you. You were never mine to begin with and you never will be and I can’t change you. You keep calling this a relationship but all it is is a bunch of memories strung together with too much alcohol and too many nights of me asking myself why I keep doing this to myself.\n\nYou’re laying in my room with me while we listen to Orchid and you ask me if I missed you and I say no. You seem hurt and I tell you I did. You tell me you missed me too and you kiss my forehead and then you leave.\n\n*The tape flips over and over again.\nI stop breathing.*\n\nYou lay next to me in bed and in your sleep you push my body away from yours and I’m left on the side, my feet and insides cold. Title Fight plays in my head and I close my eyes and will myself back to sleep. It’s nothing. Just like everything else.\n\nIt’s obvious that you don’t hold me in your heart the way you used to, or used to claim to. \n\n\"Beautiful screamo boy\", you had your way with me. Filling me up with gin, grabbing my sides too hard and making my ribcage bruise. You cluttered my mind with hollow promises and now my body is taking the toll while you’re out probably doing the same to someone else. The day of you getting into that car where I learned to fall in love with you and never coming back is quickly approaching, if it hasn’t already happened. I’m telling myself to not care.\n\nYou didn’t fuck me up. I did. I did this all to myself.\n\n*Can I tell you everything? \nAll I ever wanted was to be interesting. \nYou said you don’t mind.\nLie to me one more time. \nDid you lie or just pretend? \nI never wanted sympathy, just wanted to be something.*"
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Example:
Clothing and fashion trends of the time were designed to indicate social status. For example, increasing levels of professionalism were indicated by shirts with buttons, shirts with collars, a narrow strip of cloth knotted around the neck (colloquially known as a 'tie'), and finally a second layer over the shirt called a 'suit'. Functionality of these adornments are questionable, and scholars have theorized the 'tie' was exceptionally impractical as it exposed the wearer to easy attack.
Women were also judged based on attire, most importantly shoes. The social and professional status of women hinged on what shoes they wore, often with large spikes coming down from the heel. Again, the practicality is questionable, and it is theorized that circa 1900 the popularity of womens shoes increased. The recent 'prada' archeological digs have shown that...
and so on.
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[WP] Write an entry in a history book 10000 years in the future, describing the current era. The conclusions can be accurate or not, but the evidence should be solid.
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"The era preceding the cataclysm was marked by intensive boom-bust cycles propagated by strict adherence to market liberalism based upon myths celebrating wealth and deriding social-democratic values. Indeed, the early years of the Black Century are characterized by extreme wealth concentrated in what was dubbed the \"First World,\" which is contrasted by the extreme poverty suffered throughout the rest of the planet. Ironically, the states that made up the First World were primarily within the northern hemisphere. New ruins of their cities are discovered everyday by archaeologists boring through the glaciers, but most of our information about their sociological background is offered to us from the remnants of their interconnected information network, or internet. The internet provided the basis and original structure of the Isolon System, however the ancients interfaced with their network via platforms called computers. These machines were like Zeta-implants except that they needed a variety of input devices in order for the user to communicate their intent. For instance they were comprised of monitors, a keypad for alphanumerical feedback, and a pointing device called a mouse. How these components came together is difficult to describe to a generation that is used to directly interfacing with Isolon, and is rather besides the point. From packets found within the architecture of Isolon, we have found vast stores of information about how these people lived their lives. It seems that a great part of their daily internet use was dedicated to information, many platforms existed for people to share amusing content and these were then brought to forums where users voted on the best offerings. These people often engaged in debates over their favoured entertainment mediums with many arguments erupting over whose subjective opinion was objectively better. While these observations may seem trivial, they reveal a bloated civilization where the average citizen simply had too much time on their hands. Rather than constructive endeavours, they indulged in advancing their artistic horizons, engaging in escapist entertainments that allowed them to ignore the oncoming catastrophes from all sides. When reading examples of \"online\" conversations of this age, it is easy to be amused by their irreverence, however, remember that we call this period the Black Century for a reason. We learn the mistakes of the past so that we may never repeat them.",
"**Chapter 4: The Second Millennium C.E.**\n\n*Lesson 4.1: The Twenty-First Century*\n\nVery few records have survived of this era after the Cataclysm of 2376, but what we do know has been recovered from primitive, once-commonplace localized data storage systems found in most homes in the Western Hemisphere. The world was linked by an advanced transportation system known as the \"web\", which historians hypothesize was another name for the advanced \"bullet\" monorails that became popular in the century's latter half. Although many nations such as the United American Federation, Grand Britain, and Prussian Crimea still existed, most people allied themselves with corporations or groups, mostly associated with the \"world wide web\", called \"websites.\" These groups would provide free transportation and entertainment for their denizens in exchange for their loyalty. The most powerful ones of the early twenty-first century were a triumvirate known as \"Gogol Enterprises,\" \"Face-Booker Inc.,\" and \"Reeding.\" Although evidence shows there were conflicts between the groups, they mostly existed in harmony. Their main enemies were anarchist groups known as \"trolls,\" due to the fact that they used illegal underground tunnels known as the \"deep web.\" The two groups' largest conflict was inarguably the Battle of the Asoap, where they teamed up to try and repel attempts by the U.S. Army to capture the web.",
"At the start of the 21th century, a new class of warriors became commonplace. These so called \"keyboard warriors\" were an unorganized band, who went on quests mostly to destroy mythical beings called \"trolls\", albeit ineffectivly.\n\n**The White Knight's** primary function in society was to protect 'fair maidens' sometimes 'M'lady' in short, against trolls. These White Knights were not universally liked, but persistant. Their primary goal was gaining sexual recompense from the 'fair maiden' they protected (who, as it turned out, were, unbeknown to the White knight, mostly male). Our study has concluded that this system of recompense hardly ever came to fruition.\n\n\n**The Neckbeards** were a type of celebate warriors and are peculiar and unique in the regard that, unlike other celebatory classes in human history, they were not motivated by any religion. On the contrary, these proud warriors were the stalwart defenders of Atheism (an archaic belief system, where the believers believed there was no point in believing) and were in a constant battle of wits with religious zealots, or so-called Fundies. The name of the Neckbeard order is derived from the unkempt nature of the Neckbeard warrior's appearance, especially in the facial area. It is believed this was a method to keep their celebatory vows.\n\n\n**Religious Zealots** were a religious warrior cult who's primary function was to debate non/less-believers and to voice their opinion on matters that were deemed important. Some of these subjects were 'abortion' (the archaic act of terminating an unborn child, a widespread practice before the advent of the Standard Sterilization Statute and Planned Population Program), other religions, education (mainly the place of religion in education), the age of the earth, homosexuality and non-religion. Because of the broad nature of these warriors -and ancient religion as a whole- I will kindly direct you to the fantastic works of my esteemed colleague K3nn3y C0nn0r425.\n\n**Trolls** were considered a mythical beast during these chaotic times. Though, in hindsight, it is very easy to conclude that these trolls were, in fact, humans. Their sole purpose in life was to make other people dislike them, so that they were granted attention. It was a belief at the time that a troll (literally) fed on the attention, a sentiment that still exists today in our language in the phrase \"Don't feed the troll\", which simply means 'do not give others the pleasure of your discomfort'. These trolls were the cornerstone of early 21th century warrior society. Many warriors vowed to destroy said trolls, yet few were unsuccesful given that the people who played a troll loved the attention. Common wisdom was not evolved to the point of simply ignoring these disturbances in their day to day life, but this can also be because of the mythical nature early 21th century common folk ascribed to these trolls.\n\n\n Excerpt from: Warrior Societies in the Early 21th Century by Professor M4r14nd0 C0ll1nw0rth",
"At the outset of the Third Millennium, religious ritual and therapy had elaborated to a degree perhaps unrivalled since the grave-buildings of the Egyptians some six millennia before. Vast temples were constructed near the center of virtually every city, particularly on the holy continent of North America, where a priestly caste, representing in total perhaps a full percent of the population at any given time, were maintained by a large support staff in a condition of spiritual seclusion. By modern standards the opulence of these temples can scarcely be overstated, as in the few sites where they have eluded the greed of the recyclers, it is apparent that they had walls and doors of nearly pure iron, which the ancients appeared to regard as the noblest of metals. According to the writings of the era, those with any foible of mind or body, such as drug addiction or faulty sexual imprinting, could go to these temples, where presumably the priests in residence (\"penitents\") applied some form of primitive social therapy, though the writings we have on the subject indicate that sometimes several visits were required. The temples often spilled out into subsidiary complexes where specialized diagnostic personnel, known as _lawyers_, attempted to diagnose the type of ailment a patient was suffering, so that that they could be referred to the penitentiary best suited for that type of spiritual healing. Some sources also maintain that on very rare occasions, perhaps times of special need, human sacrifices were offered using electricity or pharmaceutical agents; however, the sites we have studied do not hold any mummies or evidence of any kind that would support that assertion.",
"The beginning of the 21st century marked a period of history where the \"lack of conflict\", as described by many during the era, actually saw the beginning of a new form of warfare. Conventional warfare where large scale forces engaged each other no longer dominated the news and media. While regional conflict or invasions would still occasionally occur, as demonstrated by the Democratic Republic of Congo, Afghanistan and Ukraine, but the new war was waged on a new front. War was no longer fought with small arms, or tanks, or fighter jets. It would be fought on the web. On computers, laptops, behind closed doors, on satellite images.\n\n\nThis chapter will cover the consequences of the Information Cold War between what was known as the Western Coalition, Communist China, Putin's Russia and other developing nations and how the developments benefited the present tense.",
"In the beginning of the 21st century, we saw the start of truly many scientific and technological discoveries. One of many such inventions was the 3D-printer, which greatly contributed to the welfare of many in the later years. \n\nSocially it was another story. Having just come of the world wars, and the Cold War between the superpowers, USA and USSR, the majority of the world still clung to old traditional ideas. Some historians have hypothesized, that the technological changes during the period, were so rapid, that the vocal majority would rather have a static world you could count on not suddenly changing, rather than the everchanging world they lived in. A more unpopular hypothesis is that these people were really just a bunch of miserable sods, who didn't feel as happy as they did before, and didn't see why anyone else should be.\n\nContrary to this, this period also marked a liberation of sexuality, as many western countries legalised homosexual marriages, sparking a great era of tolerance between people of all kinds. Historians are unsure, as to how this progress took so long. An unpopular hypothesis states on this, that the people against the legalisation were really just a bunch of miserable sods, who didn't feel as happy as they did before, and didn't see why anyone else should be.\n\nMost historians agree on two things: This period in the history of humanity holds home to many great revolutions, both politically, socially and scientifically.\nAnd the type of hypothesis, which states that there were a bunch of miserable sods during the time, is not a proper hypothesis. \nOf this a rather unpopular hypothesis have been formed, which states, that historians are really just a bunch of miserable sods, who don't feel as happy as they did before, and don't see why anyone else should be.\n",
"The early 2000's otherwise known as the YOLO era. This was quite the backwards time in our evolution. Online records show that those who were hated, were actually the most liked. We still don't know if they meant it literally or if cultivating hatred was considered a grand achievement. But history does show many recordings of phrases such as \"haters are my motivators\" and \"If you have haters you're doing something right\" around this very backwards time period. This \"receiving loads of negativity means something is successful\" attitude applied to much more than just people. Findings show that songs, movies, and even tv shows listed as being the most popular of there time, were also regarded as terrible and as written in old writings \"lame as dicks dude.\" It has been argued that these beings simply lived in a time of peak irony, as supported by the \"hipster theory\". This theory suggests that the Alpha subspecies at the time were a group known as \"hipsters\". They are said to be defined by there knowledge of the unknown. They are often referred too in ancient texts as \"always talking about shit no ones ever heard \", which has led some to believe they were a species of great knowledge seekers. Many a photograph has depicted these beings holding what are said to be \"Vinyls\". Some say these \"Vinyls\" were what they held all of there findings on, some say this is where there knowledge was derived from and that they hold the answers to the universe. One thing is for certain, if we ever figure out a way to pull data off of these ancient tablets, the findings will change our world forever"
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[WP] A translator lamenting the loss of essence and beauty in a translation
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"\"[There,]\" said the translator in her native tongue, lifting her hands from the keyboard. \"[Through my poetry, I can finally express my feelings of frustration to the whole world!]\"\n\nShe gazed proudly upon the translated poem:\n\n\n*Song of Nuance* \n\n*And for me to to have been translated as long as*\n\n*I believe the translation is the irreversible mangle*\n\n*There is a proverb that has a double meaning that you do not want to be converted*\n\n*There is a rotate phrase roll over the tongue smoothly*\n\n*When it is passed through the filter, becomes clumsy*\n\n*What is the point of the text accessible across cultures* \n\n*The reason for writing it was in at the time it was lost?*\n\n\nThe translator smirked. \"[Nailed it.]\" ",
"The cultural exchange program brought new depth to the concept of occupational frustration for one Zegimus Siri-Sur. A linguist and one of the first to ditch the translator units and learn Earth languages the hard way, Zegimus delighted in the opportunity to teach the humans about Orber, his own home planet, in their own language. The delight was short-lived as Zegimus discovered that no human language he sampled or mastered was capable of transmitting the fullness of description he wanted to share.\n\nHow could he explain to them the cascade of hues and colors of Orberi flowers in seeding, when they lacked words for things they had never seen? They looked at him blankly while he buzzed and chirped the Orberi words, which relied on organs that humans did not possess and could only approximate with crude machines.\n\nHe despaired ever fulfilling his dreams until a student showed him a crude machine, one even older than the oldest he'd seen on Earth. This machine, a phonograph, played for him the only linguistically transcendent language of Earth. In this music, Zegimus Siri-Sur understood the significance of autumn, the pangs of human love, and finally found his way to sharing with humans the things he had come to share."
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[WP] A man pours his wife something to drink, and pauses because he's swept up in the memory of giving that same type of beverage to another woman in the past.
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"I got a jug of milk for my wife's breakfast in bed. It was to be our 25th anniversary together.\n\n*7th anniversary.*\n\nI placed it on the tray, along with an omelette and some bacon. I glance at the bacon; my wife hates bacon. I always forget.\n\n*It was an accident.*\n\nI peeled an orange and sliced up an apple. I took my time and made the plate look clean.\n\n*Brand new*\n\nI walk up stairs to surprise Gwen and find her already awake. She sees me and my tray and smiles.\n\n*So beautiful*\n\nI go over to her and pour out the milk into the glass when I think about my daughter. Her birthday was coming up soon.\n\n*An accident*\n\nShe would be turning 24, but I still remember holding her in my arms, feeding her that bottle of milk. \n\n*Amazing safety features*\n\nShe hated milk growing up. Maybe she would have grown taller like she wanted ... \n\nMy precious, little woman",
"Robert has had ample opportunity over the last six months to consider how unintentionally cruel his own mind can be. Small things, tiny remembrances, incongruous objects suddenly leap out at him from time to time, pulling the pain from his heart like a thread, turning him into a lost boy again... A bird landing on his car bonnet. A silk scarf in a window. Green olives, her favourite. A word, a phrase, a long-forgotten song. \n\nToday, in this moment, it is a glass of water. Robert pauses for a moment, his hand wrapped around the flimsy plastic cup. He squeezes gently, watches the water rise to the rim, and then turns to his wife. She is nearly exhausted, he can see.\n\n'Lucy,' he murmurs, stroking her hair from her forehead. She moans, lost in her own world. He has never seen her like this before, and it's oddly entrancing. She's so fully within herself right now, floating and tumbling within waves of pain, and all Robert can do is watch from the shore.\n\n'Lucy, have some water.'\n\nShe opens her eyes, smiles. He can't take this, he's seen it before. That weak curve of a tired mouth, trying to be kind to a helpless man. *No*, Robert tells himself. *This is different*. And it is. Lucy is not fading, no. She is strengthening, rallying. He brings the cup to her lips and watches her sip. She sighs, closes her eyes again.\n\n'Good?'\n\n'It hurts,' she says, the words escaping her mouth like a low hum. \n\n'I know, darling. I'm sorry.'\n\nHe looks down into the plastic cup and waits for her to ask for more. He knows he should be focused on Lucy, but his mind wanders, the threads pulling loose from his heart. The last time he was here... the last time he had poured water for a woman he loved, so tired, so ready for it all to be over... \n\nThey'd told her as soon as they'd found out. Knew she wouldn't have long, didn't want to risk it. As it turned out, Robert's mother had died before the end of Lucy's first trimester. *Thank God we didn't wait*, Robert had said. Although, sometimes he wished they hadn't told her; that she could have died without knowing what she would be missing.\n\nLucy opens her eyes. Light blue and searching, amidst her exhaustion. \n\n'Rob,' she reaches for his hand. 'I'm alright.'\n\nRobert brings the water to her lips again, and is suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her. He leans down, presses his mouth to Lucy's warm forehead. By the time he'd thought to kiss his mother, the life had left her soft, tissue paper skin. \n\nHe thinks again of the last drink he gave her. Takes the empty cup from his wife, and sets it down. The first thing he'll give his daughter, he tells Lucy, is a kiss, and his mother's name. \n\nLucy smiles, glad he suggested it, then sucks in her breath as another pain billows within and around and through her. She squeezes his hand tightly, clinging to him, showing him with every deep breath, every elemental moan, that she is alive, that she is not leaving him. With every contraction, every step towards their child, Robert's heart is bound up a little more safely; love wrapped in loss.",
"-079\n\n\"Drink it.\" He told her. She looked at the glass as if it were a serpent.\n\n\"I'm not thirsty.\" She told him quietly, afraid to raise her voice.\n\n\"Did you sign the papers?\" He asked, grabbing the remote.\n\n\"Yeah. I signed them.\" She told him, glancing at the phone.\n\n\"You'll never reach it.\" He told her without looking. \"Drink it. It's easier for me. It less painful for you.\"\n\n\"I signed the papers. It's yours. Just--you don't have to do this. I don't have die.\" She told him pleadingly. He set the remote down and came to his feet smoothly. Twisting around, he placed one knee beside her lap. He reached over and picked up the glass. He pushed it into her hand.\n\n\"It requires a little more work on my part to make you drink it and stage the scene. If I do this, it will hurt. I did love you--sort of--at one point. Don't make me feel weird about this. Drink it. It won't hurt. You'll get drowsy. You'll close your eyes. I might even hold you warmly. You'll start to dream, then everything will fade away. At that point, you won't even care. Please drink it. I don't won't to hurt you needlessly.\" He expected her to throw the drink in his face or away. He saw the fear drain from her face as she accepted the situation. \"Thank you.\" He whispered. \n\nShe raised the glass to her lips and began to drink. He watched her throat's rhythmic dance as she swallowed the poison. He remembered watching another throat like hers along time ago. She was the only other woman to drink the concotion willingly. It was rare that they volunteered to drink it. He was their murderer, but they believed him when he said it would be painless. He wasn't lying to them. Stealing their fortunes was a job. Taking their life was a mercy . . . and a necessity. No loose ends. \n\nHe watched her finish.\n\n\"Will it take long?\" She asked.\n\n\"Twenty minutes.\" He whispered.\n\n\"Will you hold me?\" She asked, verging on tears.\n\n\"Of course.\" He leaned forward and embraced her. It was odd. He should have expected it. Even after hearing the glass break, he still didn't realize what she had done. He heard the smack of the glass on the end table. He heard the shards fall away. He even felt the muscles in her shoulder bunch beneath him as she plunged the broken glass into the side of his neck. She pulled it out and slammed it in again. He didn't fight back. No one had ever thought to use the glass as a weapon. Six women and she was the first. He almost felt like applauding until she slammed the broken glass into his neck again.\n\nHe rolled off of her, gasping and croaking as he tried to draw air through the mangled hole in his throat. He was drowning in his own blood.\n\n\"Will you hold me?\" He wheezed. She stuck her finger down her throat and vomited up the poison in reply and hurriedly called 911, begging them to send the police and ambulance.\n\nHe watched her for a few moments as she tried to force herself to vomit again.\n\n\"Milk.\" He wheezed. \"Drink milk . . . to slow it down.\" He told her tiredly. She stuck her finger down her throat again. He threw a weak arm out toward the fridge. \"I . . . lost. Drink . . . milk. Live.\" He said closing his eyes. \"Live.\" He whispered remembering the first woman again. He had really loved her. Real love. He hadn't stolen from her. It had been jealousy. It had been the hardest thing to do.\n\nHe died with a final ragged exhale. The poison control operator repeated her husband's instructions about the milk, and she finally did as she was bid. \n\nIt saved her life. She sat opposite his body and waited calmly for the ambulance. She was horrified at what he tried to do, but strangely thankful of the manner in which he tried to do it. His coldness was strangely intermingled with compassion. He was sainted sinner, she thought. She knew it was a ludicrous thought and knew normally she would have smirked, but she just didn't have it in her to smile now. She watched his body and picked up the glass she had killed him with.\n\n\"Are you still alive?\" She asked. He didn't respond. She shoved the glass into his Adam's apple and twisted it with savage satisfaction. He might have been compassionate in his method of murder. She didn't feel the same compulsion.\n\n\"Want me to hold you now?\" She spat. She felt the poison burning in the pit of her stomach. She drank more milk. She left the glass in his throat this time and went outside to wait for the police. ",
"Emptying the last of the merlot into his second wife’s glass, Todd experienced a moment of what people called nostalgia. He had shared a glass of wine often with his first wife Tracy, as was their weekly tradition. \n\nThey had spent the first few months of their marriage travelling on Tracy’s parent’s dollar. They were young and never once thought of settling down for a traditional life. Tracy’s father died around their first wedding anniversary and her mother followed shortly after out of grief. \n\nTheir passing’s triggered Todd and Tracy to rethink their lives. Tracy became inspired to help the world with the inheritance. Together they decided to construct a charity. The work kept them busy but Tracy, struggling with her parent’s deaths had developed a sleeping disorder. They consulted several doctors who prescribed sleeping pills. As a result they no longer partook in their weekly luxury. But one morning Tracy was found dead next to an empty wine bottle. The blood work confirmed she had ingested far too many pills along with it. Outraged, Todd started a personal campaign against how easily sleeping pills were prescribed to patients. A young woman named Diane sympathized with his story and was inspired by his intentions. After one of his speeches she introduced herself and three months later they married. He agreed to take some time off and they had an extended honeymoon that only recently ended. \n\nTodd sat down in front of his second wife but his focus remained in the past. Diane’s voice was distant and Todd nodded his head every few moments feigning responsiveness. Her anxiety often led her to ramble and so Todd was well practiced in false attentiveness. In Greek, nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound. Todd felt no pain now from the memories triggered by the simple act of pouring wine, only a heightened sense of familiarity. After an hour, he stood up and stepped over Diane’s body so he could empty his glass of merlot and dissolved Xanax down the sink. Now he could live comfortably for the rest of his life.\n",
"\"Gin and tonic, love?\" \n\n\nIt shouldn't really be a question any more. Gloria nods from the sofa, not even looking up from her magazine. She has her legs tucked up under her, reading glasses on. She slowly turns the coloured page with veined and wrinkled hands as I hover, gin bottle in one hand and lime in the other. \n\n\nSuddenly I'm five thousand miles and half a lifetime away. Buenos Aires, 1987. The bar has banana leaves for a roof and one television that plays *los pumas* matches in between crackles of white noise. A tanned Argentinian places two limes on the bar next to a small, incredibly filthy glass. \n\n\n\"Only the tonic water is good to drink here,\" he says in Argentinian Spanish. \"The regular stuff gives you worms.\" \n\n\n\"Can I pour it?\" I ask. I want to impress the woman I'm with, an Italian woman with eyes like melted steel and the confidence of the Soviet bloc. She tosses her hair impetuously and leans on the bar, brown skin matching that of the locals. \n\n\nHe shrugs and hands over the gin bottle, giving out a roar of disappointment as *los pumas* fumble a catch. \n\n\n\"Gin and tonic?\" I ask the Italian and she smiles. \n\n\n\"Why not?\" She says smoothly. \"Don't go easy on the gin, neither.\" \n\n\nThat night I thanked Italy for everything it had contributed to the world. \n\n\nBut the heat and the white noise fade and I'm back, cold gin bottle hurting my hand as I pour it into a glass, squeezing the lime in the palm of one hand. \n\n\n\"Here you go,\" \n\n\nShe looks up, eyes surrounded by crows lines, but still glittering with tempered steel. \n\n\n\"I hope you didn't go easy on the gin.\" She laughs\n\n\nTwenty-five years. \n\n\n"
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[WP] A highborn warrior loses all his equipment and weapons, in a city for from home meets a slave born mercenary, describe their interaction.
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"\"I need a sword to fight,\" Sir Arthor of the Sun's Perch said with frustration. \"Just point me to the best place to find a blacksmith. I have plenty of gold, so money isn't a problem.\"\n\n\"Money isn't the problem, but that doesn't mean you're well off by any means, lad,\" Vaala said softly. He sipped from a large mug, filled to the brim with a dark black rum. He licked his gums and set the mug down, leaning back in his chair. \"You don't need a sword to fight. A sword is a tool. It is up to the man wielding it to turn it into a proper weapon.\"\n\n\"A mace then?\" \n\nVaala sighed. \"Let's try a bit of acting then. You highborn folks love watching men in tights prance around your feasting halls, putting on shows for your amusement. But instead of imaging a prancing little boy, imagine I am a demonsworn whose pact has been broken. I am coming at you, blood runes burning brightly on my armor and teeth bared. What do you do?\"\n\n\"I stab you through a blood rune,\" Sir Arthor said. \"That negates the flow of magic that binds you to this world and you can no longer move.\"\n\n\"Now imagine you don't have a sword.\"\n\nThere was a long pause as Arthor thought about the predicament. Demonsworn were incredibly strong, capable of hefting large steer without much trouble. For the life of him, he could not imagine surviving such a scenario, having to fight one without a sword. \"I'd run,\" he finally said. \"Or die.\"\n\n\"See?\" Vaala took another sip and drew his dagger, resting it on the table. \"That's your problem, you don't know how to survive without a piece of steel in your hand. Fine, you have a dagger. What do you do?\"\n\nThat was easier, \"I stab it's left eye out, demonsworn are known for having bad vision in their right eye. Then I slide the dagger into the blood rune, just as I did the sword.\"\n\n\"Why'd you stab it's eye out?\" Vaala asked.\n\n\"Because I needed to harm it, so I can get close enough to stab the blood rune. Getting close to one of those things is like putting the noose around your own neck. That's why the sword is so optimal, it distances me from the demonsworn.\"\n\nVaala took away the dagger. \"Now think. How do you do it without a sword. Without a dagger.\"\n\n\"I go for the eyes again, the left one for obvious reasons. I use my hand to gouge it?\" Vaala smirked and waved his hand for Arthor to continue. \"I still need to puncture the blood rune but I don't have any sharp steel. Are we somewhere where there is a ready source of wood? Maybe a forest?\"\n\n\"Let's say that you are.\"\n\n\"A branch then. One off of an old oak. Something sharp and sturdy. It'd be messy, but I think it could do the job. Only if I manage to get its eyes out.\" Arthor looked down at his hands. \n\n\"Good, now you're thinking without your sword,\" Vaala held out his own two hands, thick and calloused. They were stained heavily, darker then the rest of his skin. \"That is blood on my hands, knight of Sun's Perch. Fourteen years I fought in the Slave Pits of Kazzak Kahn and I never once held a blade in the hundreds of times I fought. In tourneys, a knight can lose a battle and still live to tell the tale. He might bare the burden of shame for losing, but he can always try again next year. Down in the Slave Pits, I fought to survive. I couldn't *lose* so I had to learn how to fight with whatever I had on me. And nine times out of ten, all I had were my two fists. A skull can be crushed, bones broken, necks snapped, but those are all very personal ways to take a life.\"\n\n\"Knights like you do not like to get personal with the man you kill. You prefer he hides behind a helm of steel and dies five feet away to your sword. But have you ever walked up to a man, grabbed him by the throat and crushed it in your hands... all while he watched you helplessly? That is when even the strongest of men beg, for their mothers more often then not. The blade is a tool, as I said. But men are the real killers. We have become too dependent on steel and iron to keep us safe, because when we die we will not have a sword in our hand when we face Death.\"\n\nSer Arthor's eyes widened, his hands placed on the table. He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but Vaala silenced him with the wave of a hand. \"You will have nothing but your own two hands. Tell me, Sir Arthor of Sun's Perch. Do you have it in you to grapple with Death itself?\" ",
"As the bandit leader stared me down, and saw the insignia on my amulet, as they stripped me of my armor, he cleared his throat. He then barked an order and ran away with his men at his heel. Now, I had journeyed to a city, guided only by a fragment of a map. Thankfully, they hadn't found the coins hidden in my clothes. I knocked on a gnarled tavern door, hoping for a quick response. A man opened the door, his face as gnarled as the tavern door. A mercenary. His clothes tell me so much about him. He doesn't even realize it. Leather armor, scars on his face. A sharp iron sword at his belt, and a thick bronze shield on his back. I cleared my throat, and spoke,\"Hello. Can you help me to the town of Candor? Or direct me to someone traveling in that direction?\" He laughed.'Is a map too filthy for you, mi'lord?\" I shook my head,\" No sir, I just lost my map... You see these bandits ran off with my possessions.\" He grinned, his lopsided teeth showing.\" Well, just as it happens, I'm going to that city... For a price.\" Mentally, I sighed. Always wanting a piece of the cake, mercenaries are. \"How much?\" Before I knew it, I was riding a horse alongside him. He had bargained with me, and thankfully he hadn't taken all of my coin. As we walked through the forest, an arrow flew by and impeded itself in a tree. The mercenary jumped off and pulled me down behind a fallen log. \"Bandits,\" He spoke through gritted teeth,\"Worse in this area. Can you fight?\" I nodded. \"Here.\" He gave me a dagger, little more than a sharpened knife. As it happened, from my understanding, they flanked behind us, and charged out of the bushes. I stood, ready to meet them. He ran into their masses, and I lost sight of them. One man, with a red bandana around his head, ran at me. I dove out of the way, thankfully, and jumped onto his back sliding the dagger between a rib. I saw the mercenary on the ground, tied up. \"We stood no chance.\" One man held his sword to his throat. \"Surrender!\" He shouted at me. The mercenary frowned, and shouted,\" No! Keep fighting! Their going to kill us anyway!\" I shook my head. \"I'd rather die at the side of my equal then fight these brutes.\" I knelt and set the dagger down. Then, I begun to hear hoof-steps. My men, leapt through the forest and struck down the bandits. When the smoke cleared, they stood in the middle, surrounded by them. The mercenary spoke as he was freed,\" Am I really your equal?\" I nodded,\"Always.\" He knelt, lifting his sword to me. \"May I offer you my services, mi'lord.\" I nodded, smiling. \"Always, my friend.\" "
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This was the basis for an SCP tale, but I can't find it and would like to see another take on it.
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[WP] A man becomes increasingly paranoid at the growing parasite in his wife's belly
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"Pt. 2- A few days later, we left the hospital. But not before running into the doctor who treated my wife. He stopped us and asked us how everything with the baby was. My wife of course went into every detail she could remember about the stage in development our child was in. \"Well that's wonderful,\" said the doctor. \"I'm glad to hear it's doing alright. It will need all the strength it can possibly get once it's born.\" That's when the doctor smiled and placed a hand on my wife's bump. All the fingers stood stark against each other. The one that caught me off guard was the index finger, as it was eerily long and the nail split and part of it was chipped off. I hurried my wife along out of fear. When we got home, my wife asked me what the matter was. She was worried about my strange behavior lately. I told her everything was fine. And it was. Until the last night.\n Again I woke up in the middle of the night, but this time nothing was there. But then I heard it. The whispering. I looked around and saw nothing. Except my wife's belly move again. This time I could make out a clear hand. It was pushing and pushing, then suddenly stopped. That's when I heard the hooves. There, in the middle of the room was the creature. \"What are you?\" I was terrified. Then a familiar voice said, \"It's time.\" I immediately started feeling frozen in fear. \"Doc?\" the figure smiled. \"Yes, but I'm not actually a doctor.\" \"Well then what are you?\" The smile left his face as he moved towards me. \"I'm the father.\" Then he laughed. \"Be quiet, it's starting.\" That's when everything clicked. The doctor kept saying 'It', referring to our baby. He said it would need strength. The long bony fingers. Then he stepped into the light of the moon shining through our window. He was disgusting. He stood about six feet tall, with a pale blue color on his torso. His eyes gleamed yellow, along with his fangs. His eyes were pure black. The bottom half were two legs covered in fur, leading to hooves that stepped up on my bed. Then he put a hand around my neck and my vision blurred as I tried to call out to Liz. The last thing I saw was the beast reaching towards her stomach. Then I heard a ripping sound as he dug into her womb and pulled out his demon spawn. I heard her screaming as her blood soaked the mattress. I kept fighting and fighting, but eventually lost control and passed out.\n Over the last few years, I've been in and out of psych wards, hospitals, Jails, and rehab facilities. No one believes me. How could they? After all, the police found me over her body with a knife, covered in blood. They always asked where the child was. I would just burn inside with anger and speak through my teeth. \"It wasn't a child. It was something awful. An abomination.\" Needless to say, I have been spending my time in these padded, white wall rooms trying to convince anyone and everyone. So far, no one has. I fear no one ever will. I also fear that I was making this up and that I actually did kill Liz. Maybe I am crazy. Either way, I'm stuck here now, and I have to live with that. At least the doctor comes to visit me every once in a while. He brings the child and tells me his plans for it, and what it is capable of. God help us all.",
"Pt. 1- \"Congratulations!\" This had been the word of the day since everyone found out my wife was pregnant. And why would't it be, this is a miracle, creating a new human being. I just wish it was. That sounds wrong, I mean, of course it's human. Mostly anyway. I don't know how describe the terror I feel now when I should be overjoyed about my first child. There's just something off, odd about that thing in Liz's stomach. Something evil grows inside her, yet I'm the only one who knows. Let's take this back a couple months to when we found out. I remember sitting on the computer, passing time and pulling my pud when Liz came home from work. There's something about the way she walked that day. Strolling in as her unnaturally red hair hung behind her. Being five foot six, with a runners build, the always looked healthy. But now... Now she was glowing. She walked right up to me and locked her eyes on mine. Those eyes that I had fallen in love with. Icy blue with fractures of gold and green, all shattered around small black pupils. When she smiled these eyes could melt your soul or carry you all the way to another dimension. But as I was looking at her eyes, she had been telling me something. I started to pay attention after she had asked a question. Her face strained with an open mouth smile, anticipating my answer. \"What now?\" I had just given myself away, here comes the 'don't ignore me' lecture. \"Honey!\" She said with playful judgment. \"I said I'm late!\" I looked at the clock. \"No Liz, this is about the time you get home from work every day.\" She laughed. \"No, I mean I'm late...\" My jaw must have dropped into my lap in surprise, because she started laughing and kissing me. \"Are you sure, I mean, you've been late before.\" In response to this, she reached in her purse and produced a small sandwich bag. Inside, the contents made me stand up. One pregnancy test with a little plus sign. We hugged and immediately called all of our families to relate the good news. Fast forward a few months, and my wife is beginning to show. Our first Ultrasound was hanging on the fridge, all the parenting books lined the shelves. We were both happy and working extra hours to save up a little bit. So one day, after working a double, I came home to find my wife on the floor, blood staining her legs. \"Liz!!!\" I called her name, took her head in my lap, and began trying to wake her up. That's when I noticed something. Her stomach was moving. I could make out a small bump moving across her already swollen belly. Then it stopped and I drove her to the hospital. \"It seems that the baby is fine, nothing to be worried about.\" That's what the doc said, but I found it hard to believe. \"Doc, she lost a lot of blood, how is that normal?\" He looked at me with the face of someone being questioned by a five year old. \"Sir, a woman's body is under a tremendous amount of stress during pregnancy, and sometimes these things happen. Just come back next week and we'll check in on it again.\" I sighed and ran my hand through my hair, something that I do when I'm stressed.\" \"Okay, but Doc, I have to tell you about when she was unconscious. Her stomach was being bushed outward. Like the baby was trying to get out.\" The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. I wanted to push away from his bony hands, but he kept his grasp firm. \"Looks like the baby is kicking. Stop worrying son, it's well on its way to being fully developed.\" \"If you say so. You are the doctor after all...\" But something just was not sitting right with me. On the way home, Liz slept. I kept going over the conversation with the doctor in my head. There was something strange about the whole encounter, I just could not put my finger on it. When we got back to the house, all the lights were off. I turned to tell my wife to wait while I go flip the switch. As I was halfway through the living room to get to the switch, I heard foot steps. No, I heard hooves moving towards me. I looked back across the dark room to the silhouette of Liz against the window outside. But there was another shadow behind her. I screamed and ran to the light switch. As I flicked on the lights, Liz called after me. \"Honey, why are you screaming?\" As I went back to the door way, the figure had vanished. I tried to cover it up to not scare my wife. \"nothing sweetness, I just thought I saw a monster behind you.\" Smooth. She turned around to look behind her and then back to me. \"Maybe you should go to sleep honey. We both should, we've been up for almost two whole days.\" \"That's a good idea,\" I said as I let out a sigh of relief. \"Let's go to bed.\" I didn't sleep that night. My mind played tricks on me the whole night. I would hear whispers. I would see eyes in the middle of my room. Red, steady eyes, watching me from afar. It was only after staring at the eyes out of pure terror, that they actually turned to me. He wasn't looking at me, he was watching her. Then a slim finger with a long, split in the nail moved up to it's mouth. It gave me a shhhh noise and then disappeared. Man I must have been really tired. Now these things happened for months. Figures would move past the windows, sit in our cars while we were in the house, even stand next to the bed at night. One night I had had enough. I awoke in the middle of the night to the red eyed creature watching Liz. The eyes followed the steady respiration of her stomach. I yelled and jumped out of bed, reaching for the gun underneath the shelf in the frame of the bed. \"STOP THIS NOW, LEAVE US ALONE! I screamed and fired a shot in the dark. I woke up in a hospital. I tried to get my bearings, only squinting at first, then through shock, my eyes shot open and I sat up. It was only as I sat up that I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder. \"What the fuck?\" I was laying down again and looked to my shoulder. There were bandages and a spot of blood between my shoulder joint and my neck. Then a doctor came in. \"Oh, good you're awake!\" He said almost cheerfully. \"What happened?\" I asked, almost not wanting to know. \"I thought you could answer that for me.\" The doctor looked almost disappointed. \"You see, your wife brought you in last night. You suffered a gunshot wound to your shoulder.\" That's when I saw Liz poke her head around the corner of the door frame. \"What happened?\" I asked. She looked down at her shoes. \"Hun, I woke up in the middle of the night after you fired your gun. What were you trying to do?\" I didn't know what to say. So I decided to tell the truth. \"I saw something. Something in our room. I hear things at night, and see creatures watching you sleep.\" Needless to say, she didn't believe me. That's when she walked out as the doctor stared at me with bewilderment. \"I'm going to run some tests on you sir, just to make sure everything's, er, okay.\"",
"She glows now\n\n\nShe sits before the fire \n\n\nstrokes her swelling bump with mother's pride \n\n\nI twist my hands with white knuckles \n\n\ntry not to let her see.\n\n\n\nI hate it\n\n\n There's something inside her which \n\n\nfeeds \n\n\nand sucks \n\n\nand draws at her lifeblood\n\n\nShe says it's mine\n\n\nI watch it move beneath her skin and I hate it more\n\n\n\nShe was mine once\n\n\nShe twisted white beneath my body and pressed red lips unto my own\n\n\n\nShe gripped the sheets with tender hands \n\n\nHer back bent back\n\n\nNow her back bends back \n\n\nAs she supports the beast we made\n\n\n\nShe placed my hand on her flesh and laughed\n\n\nAs the devil twisted down below\n\n\n\"It's your child\" she said to me\n\n\nAnd fear shook me \n\n\nBones froze\n\n\nHeart stopped\n\n\nNo child of mine\n\n\nNo flesh of mine\n\n\nNo blood of mine\n\n\nThe beast which grows inside\n\n\nmy wife\n"
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[WP] You can communicate with people from parallel universes over the internet
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"* Your nickname is now JoBurgAmy1405\n\n* Now talking in #multiversechat\n* Topic is: READ THE SITE RULES! NO P2P SHARING!\n\n* Topic set by admincarley4 on Mon Feb 1st 1984\n\n\n<WidowsPeakJeff5014> Is there another way to get off of this earth? I mean, this one's ruled by spiders the size of cats!\n\n<JoBurgAmy1405> Hello everyone! I am from Earth Designation 1405!\n\n<CyropolisJim4011> Spiders the size of buses aren't physically possible, read up on the square-cube law.\n\n<WidowsPeakJeff5014> Is that a thing over at your universe? It's not one at mine! Shut the fuck up! I have to deal with gigantic spiders on my morning commute!\n\n<MoscowEugene5051> Hello JoBurg what is your world like\n\n<CyropolisJim4011> Eat a dick! We're stuck in a perpetual ice age! Do you know how hard it is to find a working computer? Just what I need is to deal with your bitching!\n\n<JoBurgAmy1405> Why are we fighting?\n\n<MoscowEugene5051> Look, every world has it's problems ok jeff and jim it out or I'll get the mods involved\n\n<JoBurgAmy1405> My world's kind of an utopic technological paradise, it doesn't have problems\n\n<MoscowEugene5051> That's not what I meant. \n\n<WidowsPeakJeff5014> DEAR GOD THEY'VE FOUND ME USING AN ITEM OF HIGH TECHNOLOGY FUCK! FUCK ME! IT'S BREAKING INTO THE GODDAMN VENTS!\n\n<CyropolisJim4011> Why the fuck did you take the time to type that message out and not run!? How stupid are you?! \n\n* User: BerlinKlaus1905 has entered.\n\n<BerlinKlaus1905> PRAISE THE LORDS OF SORROW\n\n<BerlinKlaus1905> PRAISE THE LORDS OF SORROW\n\n<BerlinKlaus1905> PRAISE THE LORDS OF SORROW\n\n<BerlinKlaus1905> PRAISE THE LORDS OF SORROW\n\n* User: BerlinKlaus1905 has been kickbanned by @admincarley4 (out you go)\n\n<JoBurgAmy1405> I think coming here was a mistake, is it always crazy like this?\n\n<CryopolisJim4011> It comes and goes\n\n<MoscowEugene5051> I think the spiders finally got Jeff\n",
"\"Danny! Your dinner is getting cold! Come downstairs and eat!\" Mrs. Domrowski yelled from the kitchen table. The rest of the family had already taken up their usual seats at the table. They were all waiting for the 18 year-old Danny.\n\n\"In a minute mom! I'm talking to one of my AU buddies!\" Danny yelled back downstairs from his desk in his room. \n\n\"Which one?\" Danny's younger sister Emma replied in a singing, almost mocking tone.\n\n\"The one where you SHUT UP!\" Danny yelled back downstairs.\n\n\"DANNY! Be nice to your sister!\" Frank Domrowski yelled up. He had a long day at the plant and didn't need any of these shenanigans from his children.\n\nDanny groaned loudly. \"I'm talking to the one where I'm married to Jennifer Lawrence.\"\n\nEmma giggled.\n\n\"Is that the girl from the Famine Games?\" Mrs. Domrowski yelled up.\n\n\"Yeah ma, she's really pretty.\" Emma's twin sister Dana said as she took a bite of her meatloaf.\n\nDanny sighed again and went back to discussing his wife's vagina with his alternate self.",
"I scrolled down google, looking for something, anything that could kill a few more of these dreadful hours. Turns out \"time wasting sites\" is a pretty common search. Nothing looked interesting on the first few pages of the results, but on page 6 something caught my eye.\n\n>*parallelchats.com*\n\n>Chat with cool people, who are *out of this world*! \n\nI clicked on it, not sure what I was expecting. \n\nAs the page loaded, I looked around the room. My eyes wandered over to a stack of papers sitting on the corner on top of my cabinet. My severance agreement, and on top of that was an eviction notice from my apartment building, what kind of name was 'Two Trees' anyway. I plan on getting an apartment at a place with a better name next time. The page loaded and my eyes came back to my screen. A small chat log appeared. \n\n Your are now chatting with Landon07! \n\nI laughed, my name was Landon too. Not too common of a name, so the coincidence made me point it out in the chat.\n\n My name is Landon too\n\nI wrote, \n\n Wassup?\n\nI checked my phone while he typed back, one new message from Kara. I opened it and read,\n\n*Hey Landon, i'll come over to get my stuff tomorow. im really sorry about what happened between us. Cya.*\n\nCheating bitch.\n\nMy screen flashed, a reply from Lando. \n\n That's cool! Im just killing time before work ends.\n\nI laughed, we were both killing time for two totally different reasons. \n\n I wish I still had my job...\n\nI hesitated, should I tell him about getting fired?\n\n I wish I still had my job, i just got let off yesterday.\n\nLando typed back,\n\n Oh that sucks. I'm actually just started up my own business, what did you work in?\n\nOf course this guy runs a fucking business, we were complete opposites... besides our names. \n\n just some stupid marketing job\n\n That's so weird, the business i opened was an advertising agency!\n\nI went to type a message, but Landon replied again.\n\n I opened it with my wife Kara, we got married a couple months ago and \n decided to start a business together\n\nHoly shit, this was just getting weird. \n\n my ex girlfriends name in Kara... we broke up yesterday cuz she cheated on me...\n\nThere was a hesitation in the chat as neither of us typed.\n\n Where did you say you lived again?\n\nI hesitated, \n\n Boston...\n\nI wrote. \n\nLando didn't reply for a minute. \n\n Do you know where the Two Trees apartment complex is?\n\nI looked around, is this guy a fucking stalker or some shit? \n\n Yes. i live there. \n\n I just moved out of there a few weeks ago...\n\nI started to reply but I was cut off by a pop up. \n\n*You are out of time! Please sign up to extend your chat time and continue talking to people 'out of this world!'*\n\n\n\n\n^Sorry i had to rush this a bit, would have loved to dwelve more into this, nice prompt!"
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[WP] Every time you come within five feet of someone you love a ringing starts in your ear that is excruciatingly painful.
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"I wasn't born this way. It just... started like something had clicked on inside my ear to cause it. \n\nThe first time I remember it happening, I was in high school. I'd had a crush on Victoria since sixth grade, so having every single class with her seemed great. But then it started. I walked in to the building and my ear started ringing, but I thought nothing of it. It happened to me all the time. But then I walked into class and it started to get louder. I could tell something was wrong, but I thought it would pass just like all the other times. Taking my seat next to her, though, it got so loud I could barely hear anything and I was almost crying out in pain. I barged out of the room without thinking and walked down the hall, and it got quieter and quieter. It was at this point that I realized what was happening.\n\nSo, now here I am, in the middle of a lonely apartment with the blinds drawn, the door locked, and a bottle of whiskey to dim the unending pain that has been caused not by a migraine or my ear, but the crack in my heart the unrelenting noise has left.",
"I'm new to this. So, here it goes:\n\n*Dammit!* Was the first thought that popped into my head when I saw the seating plan of the coming year, my last year, of high school. I was to be seated next to Angela. Normally I would've relished the opportunity of being close to her, but not under these circumstances. The whole school would know.\n\nThoughts racing through my head, too quick to keep track of them, I sat staring - eyes blank - at the black and white image on my screen. How could I avoid this situation? I'd been able to avoid her well enough this last year. Keeping my distance, walking past doorways and circling back to make sure she wasn't just on the other side, turning around in the hall when she came my way, and being late to lunch in the canteen. Everything solely to avoid the pain. But that wouldn't be possible if I sat next to her. *Shit.*\n\nI couldn't ask the teacher to seat me somewhere else, she wouldn't understand. She'd likely attempt to make me explain in-front of everyone. I hated her. Changing courses was not an option in any case. I was already starting to sweat just contemplating living through the next year. My grip on sanity being evaporated by constant pain. What could I do? I had to get a different seat. I could ask Jake, my best friend since grade school though we hadn't spoken over the summer after he confessed. He was only slightly farther away, but it would do. I would ask him on the first day. No, I couldn't take the risk, I had to ask now. I keyed in his number, my heart thumping and tasting copper.\n\n“Yeah? What is it.” \n\n“I'm really sorry Jake. I...\"\n\n\"It's okay. I overreacted. Just friends?\" He asked. A truce.\n\n\"Just Friends,\" I said, and glad for it. I had regained a friend, if not fully. \"Have you seen the new seating plan, yet?”\n\n“Yup, I'm next to Nate. Awesome, right!?” He said. Nate was the class geek. Nice though, and always willing to help.\n\n“I have to ask you for a favour.”\n\n“You want to swap places.” He said. It wasn't a question. He knew at least part of the problem and had known the call was coming, but had hoped it wouldn't.\n\n“Yeah.”\n\nThe silence seemed to stretch. I wet my lips, still staring at my assigned seat. He needed Nate's help to improves his grades to graduate, but couldn't just approach him, social pegging order and so on. He needed this to have an excuse. But he would understand. He wouldn't let me go through this. Would he?\n\n“I'll invite Nate over to my place once a week to study,” I offered, wincing. Nate *DID* like me. It would work. It had to. It was a sacrifice, but a cheap one if it got me away from Angela.\n\n“That would work. Sure thing. I'll hold you to it, Liz!”\n\n“Thanks.” I said, and hung up with a sigh of relief. I stared at my screen, at the disaster that almost was. I'd paid a heavy price, but it was worth it. Seeing him would be awkward, but I was saved. That was all that mattered.",
"Keep your face down, keep moving, don't say \"Hi\" to anyone. That was my mantra.\n\nWhenever I came within five feet of someone I loved, my ears rang louder than anything else on Earth. Stay close to them long enough and my ears will bleed a bit. Sadly, I'm also one of those guys that fall in love with every girl at first sight. At first, I thought it would be noble of me to let myself love a girl and fight through the ringing.\n\nBut I couldn't take it. I left her, and I don't want to hurt anyone else in that way. So, I fell into a routine to scrape along life. Sleep, shower, eat, work, eat, shower, sleep... I felt so guilty - I was weak. Then again, maybe this problem was meant to show me that I'm not supposed to love.\n\nNowadays, this problem shows me who I'm really in love with - You.\n\nEDIT: Cleaned up sentences. #2\n"
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Themes might include how even the most faithful can be corrupted
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[WP] A wealthy man marries his highschool sweetheart and signs a prenupital contract stating that should he be unfaithful, his wife will receive his fortune. Write about her attempting to get him into bed with another.
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"-082\n\n\"I caught you cheating. You bastard.\" She snapped, though the corners of her mouth lifted with her enjoyment. She had won.\n\n\"It's all yours.\" He said, matching her hidden smile.\n\n\"What? Just like that?\" She asked.\n\n\"Just like that.\" He slid a stack of papers across the table. \"Just sign here, here, and here. Initial here,\" he flipped the page, \"here, and sign and date.\" She looked at him in alarm.\n\n\"These are divorce papers.\" She mumbled, looking down to read them, then up with a question in her eyes.\n\n\"You wanted my money. Right?\" He leaned back, giving her a look she recognized all to well. The look of a chess master waiting for his opponent to take the bait.\n\n\"No.\" She said, pushing the papers away.\n\n\"I'm not signing anything without my lawyer.\" She told him primly. He wagged his fingers in a *come to me* gesture. The door behind them opened and both of their lawyers entered.\n\n\"What is this?\" She demanded.\n\n\"A divorce.\" Her lawyer replied. \"I've reviewed the paperwork. You get everything. You get the money. You get the companies. The houses. The cars. The plane. The vacation property. The stocks. The bonds. You get every worldly thing he owns. I looked into the companies. They're strong and sound. There's no investigations. There is nothing untoward about this transaction. I looked into it. My firm looked into it. It's exactly what it looks like.\" He told her.\n\n\"No. He's up to something.\" She protested. \"Look at him. Look how smug he is. You don't know him like I do. He plays chess with the world. He did it in highschool. He did it in business. He's doing it right now. There is some kind of catch. Some hidden danger here. He's wanting you to think his king is in check. There is a move here I'm not seeing; a move you didn't see.\" She snapped at her lawyer.\n\n\"It's the worst kind of chess game.\" He whispered. \"I'm sacraficing my king to save my queen.\"\n\n\"What?\" She whispered in a small voice.\n\n\"I didn't come back to you after all these years because we were highschool sweethearts. I didn't come back with all this wealth and power to impress you. I came back because I never stopped loving you. You're right. I play chess. You wanted me gone so you could have all this.\" He said, leaning forward and stabbing the divorce papers with his finger. You sent her after me to tempt me. You know, before she even made it inside my door, I knew who she was, where she'd been, and why she was there. I never slept with her. I paid her to tell you that she had.\n\n\"B-But . . .\" She stammered.\n\n\"You wanted all of this.\" He said. \"You just had to ask. There was never a reason to trick me. This is nothing. I can do this again. This aside, I've never loved another woman. Probably won't. I'm fine with that. Even if you were pretending, I wasn't. So, sign the papers and you're a free woman and a very wealthy one. Sign. Let's finish what you started.\" He leaned back.\n\nShe looked to her lawyer. He nodded. She laid the pen down. \"I--You're serious?\" She asked again.\n\n\"Sign.\" He said. His eyes hardened.\n\n\"Fuck you.\" She snapped, pushing back from the table. \"Screw you, Max. You don't get to win. You don't get to be this--No. I was going to win this time. You always did this. You always got to be the smartest guy in the room. Not this time.\" She grabbed up the pen to sign. He smiled, and she tossed down the pen again. \"AHHH! You annoy me so god-damn much, but no, this time. I get to win. I get to be the . . .\" She grabbed up the pen.\n\nHe started to chuckle softly. She dropped the pen again and started jumping up and down in frustration.\n\n\"Screw you, you big furry bastard!\" She paced back and forth. \"Are there any reprecussions from me trying to trick him?\" She asked of her lawyer. \n\n\"No legal reprecussions. Maybe a few moral ones.\" The lawyer replied.\n\n\"And every thing was above board. The money. The companies. You found no hidden financial landmines? The money isn't part of a Ponzi scheme he cooked up that is going to get me arrested? I'm serious. Do you stake the future of your firm on what is in this?\" She hissed, stabbing the documents with her red-nailed finger.\n\n\"I do.\" The lawyer replied. \n\nShe sat down and read each page of the document and picked up the pen. He smiled again.\n\n\"Fuck you, Max.\" She said with a snarling laugh. She pushed the papers away, then grabbed them and tossed them across the room. She clutched the pen like a dagger and came across the table. Her lawyer tried to grab her wrist, but his lawyer stepped back and smiled. She dropped the pen and wrapped her arms around her husbands neck and kissed him soundly. He was chuckling in between kissed. \"Oh, you are never dull.\" She breathed. Kissing him again. The lawyers smirked and stepped out into the hall.\n\n\"Their divorces are always the most entertaining.\" His lawyer observed.\n\n\"Fuck you, Barney.\" The other lawyer snapped, throwing holy water in his face. The lawyer screamed then burst into flame before disappearing into a cloud of smoke and with the smell of brimstone. Her lawyer inhaled deeply of home. \"Check and mate.\" He said with satisfaction before waddling off.",
"And in the end, the judge saw through the woman's deceit and broke the deal as he had done for so many others.\n\n\"Justice is universal\" he said. \"You gambled and lost.\"\n\nThe eyes sank deep into her skull as she looked to the table in front of her. Her attorney rose but the judge spoke first.\n\n\"I'm not granting you the 3,5 million for you are a monster in disguise. Your man tried to love you but you tried to take an advantage of him. Frankly, I can't understand how he ever saw you fit as a wife.\n\nIt was at about this time the husband realised his wife was actually a person who never loved him. Not even enough to get him a good hooker or expensive liquor. ",
"I don’t know how it happened. Or when. If you saw him, you wouldn’t think it. Even if you knew him, you wouldn’t think it. But the bruises became more frequent and the apologies less so. I know he’s a broken man, but I’m too scared to fix him. There’s so much of him that still loves me, I see it when he draws blood and just before he drinks. But it’s lost in the rage and hate and mania. So I’m letting go. I need the money and maybe it’ll cause him to hit rock bottom. I found the perfect women as well. She’s five foot four, bubbly and brunette. She’s basically me fifteen years ago. She doesn’t seem to mind the ethics of it. Well, I don’t think she cares; she’s getting ten thousand if she can do it. \n\nWe’re meant to do it tonight. Although, I’m beginning to have second thoughts. I’m feeling sick and I think he knows something might be up. In part, I think I feel a little guilty. The plan should be simple enough, us two go out to dinner, she’s the waiter and I spike his drink. I leave for the bathroom multiple times, while she flirts. I’ll pretend to have some emergency meeting and leave. She steps in, takes him somewhere and records it. Simple. \n\nTurns out not so simple. The bastard is more faithful than I give him credit for. Or just really stingy with his money. She gave him her number at least. They haven’t made much contact though. Google suggested using hypnotic tapes. I don’t if they’ll work. I’ve said I’ll be overseas for work for a while, so hopefully that’ll give him some time.\n\nNothing. I fired the last one, but gave her five hundred to keep quiet, can’t have her blabbing. Hired a model this time. Had to promise more as well, but she was willing to do it. Similar plan, except we’re going to fancy cocktail party. Spike drink, she flirts, I leave and fingers crossed.\nShit. I fucked up. Turns out those tapes do work, because I managed to sleep with some guy. He wasn’t even good looking and I don’t remember anything about the sex. Fuck. I hope he doesn’t find out. Fuck. Worse part is that he didn’t. Fuck. Now, I have to get him to sleep with someone. Fuck fuck fuck. \n\nWell that was unexpected. Turns out he was pitching for the other team. Makes me wonder about all our times together, but whatever. I have the evidence! I didn’t think I’d cry after seeing the pictures, but whatever, it must be the hormones or something. I need a drink.\nFuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I need a drink. Shit. He caught me out first. He knew what was going on and set me up first. The fucking bastard. I got so mad, furious. Next thing I knew, there was blood everywhere. I called an ambulance and left. Fuck. \n\n-083"
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[WP] You met a girl with the magic to play with peoples emotions to make them follow through her every whim. She became president, the extreme ruler of the whole world, you're immune to this sorcery...she finds out
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"It was a beautiful winter morning. The birds chirping, a soft wind blowing, and nobody at the White House knew that Lindsy was wandering down the street, alone, looking for a new fool to mess around with using her powers. She came across this babyfaced guy working to organize fruits on the stand outside the small store.\n\n\"Perfect!\" She approaches the guy. He turns around, and in a high pitched nasaly voice he said \"Welcome to Martins Mini Mart where the only thing we dont sell is Mints! How may I help you?\"\n\nLindsy rolled her eyes. She looks him in the eyes, snaps her left fingers twice, and says, \"Take a banana and stand on that table while acting like a monkey.\" The guy tilts his head slightly. Stuttering, he spits out \"w-w-w-wh-wha-wh-what? Thats a j-j-jo-jok-jo-joke. N-no.\"\n\nLindsy is taken back. She squints at him. Looks him up and down. \"LOOK BUDDY\" she says, \"IM YOUR PRESIDENT AND YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO DO AS I DEMAND\".\n\n\"N-nope im n-n-not. Th-the-the amendments s-say I don-dont have to.\" He argues. He puts the last four apples on the stand and rushes inside.\n\nLindsey is left outside to wonder at her own dismay how her powers were ignored AND stopped by the fool at Martins Mini Mart who assembles the apples nicely. As payback to her newfound enemy, she plucks out the bottom apple from the stand. All of them crash to the ground. Lindsy takes a bite of the apple ahe plucked. She imediately spit it out. It was dry and bitter... Red Delicious, she hates red delicious...",
"I smiled. It seemed like the right thing to do. She was staring at me, I could identify her as, \"Curious.\" The two guys, suits really, were at her side. Judging by their expression, I would say that they were enthusiastic to be at her side.\n\n\"I've come to tell you that, by all current models and predictions, you are making a mistake.\" I repeated. I stared ahead. It seemed like the right thing to do.\n\nShe smiled, he red lips parted. Her green eyes met mine and she spoke, \"I understand that, but what I don't get is how.\" She approached me. I continued to stare straight ahead. She grabbed my face. She sat on my lap. It was only a few inches that remained between her face and mine. She turned my face to meet her gaze. She peered into my eyes, she looked deep into them, trying to find anything. I would guess that, by her frown, she found nothing. I let my gaze down, and stared straight ahead again.\n\n\"You feel nothing?\" She asked, standing up. She brushed off her short skirt, clicked back across the Oval Office, and sat back on her desk.\n\n\"I feel the fabric of the chair I sit on, it has a high thread count. I feel the humidity and temperature of the air. We are in an air conditioned building, approaching twenty-two degrees Celsius. I feel these papers in an envelope in my hand. They contain the models and projections that I just spoke about.\" I was sent here to get her to read these papers and make a decision based on them. I could leave when she had.\n\n\"I mean, you feel no emotions?\" She asked. I looked her over. Her furrowed brown, her locked gaze, the tone and inflection all indicated that she was confused.\n\n\"I've never felt the desire to have them.\" I said. It was a joke. People calm down and relax when you give them a joke. Her current mood indicated that she was on the verge of getting stressed, and if she got stressed she would not read the projections.\n\n\"The Russians have two hundred and twenty known nuclear warheads aimed at us. We have four hundred thirty-four warheads pointed at them. I'm estimating a fifty-eight and seventy eight hundredth percent destruction of the United States, focused around coastal cities; Washington DC, New York City, Boston, Atlanta, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Seattle. Others aimed to spread fallout over the Midwest. If you engage now, we will likely be destroyed. Madam President, I urge you to not engage.\"\n\nHer expression didn't change throughout my speech. \"Oh? And you know where I'll be when that happens? In my underground bomb-shelter.\"\n\nI stood up, and acknowledged. She did read the projections. She was not acting on ignorance. I pulled at the hems of my skirt to make sure they wouldn't fold up on me as I stood. \"May I ask why?\"\n\n\"I feel like an object. Even at the top, I feel like these people only let me do these things because I'm a goddess or something, not because I'm actually worthy. I make all the decisions, and you want to know why? Everyone wants to have sex with me. Well, everyone except you.\" She walked back over to me. \"It's a 'gift' I have, I make everyone so caught up with me that they do what they can, for what, to get inside of me?\" She looked disgusted. She wrapped her arms around my hips, and stared straight at my eyes. She leaned in and kissed my lips. She tried for a few seconds and then stepped back. \"Seriously, it's like kissing cardboard.\"\n\n\"I can not help but to point out that you feel as though your sexuality is the only reason you get anywhere, may I ask, if you dread that so much, why do you continue to attempt to use your sexuality on me?\" I observed her lips. The red of her lipstick has been marred by the pale pink of mine.\n\n\"I guess it's all I know. All Hollywood teaches of us.\" She looked down. For the first time she dropped the pretense of flirting with me.\n\nI stepped forward, to embrace her. \"Let me try again. I am sure I can satisfy you this time.\" I wrapped my arms around her neck. I smiled. it seemed like the right thing to do. Her eyes closed, mine stayed open. I pressed my lips to hers. I tightened my grip. Her eyes opened. She starts squirming. I feel the veins in her neck start to swell, blood pooling in them, unable to flow through my grip. She beckons to her guards. They can't pull guns on me, any shot would also hit the President. They attempt to grab and hit me. The President flails around her desk looking for an object to bludgeon me. She hits a button on the panel. I feel my rib shatter as one of the guards tackles me. I pull the president down with us, and she lands on her head hard. As blood pools around the floor of the Oval Office, I feel her go limp. My task is done and I can go home.\n\nI stand up, I wince at the pain of my chest. I take a shallow breath and proceed to walk to the door. I have given her guards the shot they were looking for, and I felt them pierce me. My world was blinding pain as bullets entered my back and exited my chest. It was a nice grouping, if I had to judge. It was the force and friction of the bullets that pushed me back to the ground. It was the pain that kept me there. I saw my blood pool on the floor, I saw it catch up to hers. I grew tired. I felt myself falling asleep. \n\nI heard my alarm going off and I opened my eyes. I realize that it was not my alarm and I was not dreaming, I was still in the White House and I still killed the President. I would guess that the alarm was an air raid siren. Since it is not my alarm, I'll just go back to sleep.",
"\"You're a good actor, Cam.\" Penelope smiled, as though somehow that made this less awkward.\n\n\"What can I say, Penny? Just a natural, I guess.\" Cameron kicked his feet over the edge of the brick wall, looking down fifty floors to hard pavement. Fall like that, he wouldn't survive, Cam imagined. He flicked a coin into the air and caught it. Tails.\n\n\"I always thought you really liked me, though. Even beyond all the... hocus-pocus,\" Penny mused. Cam had to suppress a laugh. Like her? She was annoying from the beginning. Full of herself, sure she was the ubermensch and would lead the world into a glorious new dawn. Instead she'd driven the place into the ground. \"Shame it has to be this way, though. I hate to think of you in jail, but it'd be worse if you're dead.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Behind him, Penny was flanked by a half-dozen SWAT officers. That seemed like overkill. Their submachine guns would cut him down as surely as the fall would. Cam flipped his coin; tails. \"But I think I'm too pretty for jail.\"\n\nPenny laughed. She thought her laugh was clear and brilliant; after all, the world agreed. Cam knew better. It was shrill and irritating. \"You are too pretty for jail, honestly. Why don't you come back with me? Just because you're immune doesn't mean you can't work with me here, right?\"\n\nWork with a gift granted by pure luck and so wasted? His coin came down tails again. Damn. \"Nah, I think my talents are better suited elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Oh? Who do you think will hire you now?\" Penny asked, voice turning icy. \"You're wanted, Cam. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Do the smart thing. Be *mine.* You won't need talents for that.\" Ah, that cut to the heart of the issue. She *was* inclined to use her powers that way. Great.\n\n\"If you wanted a date you could've asked,\" Cam replied. Nothing to catch for a dozen stories. His coin arced through the air; tails again. Slowly, he turned his legs off the edge and planted his feet on the roof, staring down Penny's painful pastel parasol, and the unfortunate dress that went with it. \"Guess it's not too late for that.\"\n\n\"Oh, good,\" she replied, smiling and cheery again in a mere moment. \"I can give you anything you want. Anything at all. I always liked you, you know. And I knew you'd come around. After all, you always liked me, right?\" Another inconvenient piece of history for her to rewrite.\n\nCam flipped his coin. Heads.\n\nHe felt a grin come unbidden. \"No, I always thought you were a bitch.\" Penny's face froze. \"I'm sure you'd love your own Ken doll to match, but I can think of very little I'd like less than to get under that hideous pink skirt of yours.\" Penny's jaw worked uselessly as she tried to process the insult. \"And you're so *annoying.* Walking around like you own the place. Treating your power like a right. You're not even that cute. And pink is not your color.\" Her cheeks were ruddy with rage now; she started to sputter, probably trying to get out an order to her soldiers. \"And you think you're so fuckin' special. See, the question you've failed to ask yourself is *why* I'm immune. Dumbass.\"\n\n\"Shoot!\" Penny screamed. Cam tipped back and disappeared over the wall. A moment of stunned silence followed; Penny rushed to the wall a moment too late and looked down, just in time to watch Cam crash through flag poles and hammocks and awnings until he finally came to rest on the lobby's awning. A moment later he rolled off that and disappeared into the crowd, much less dead than he should've been.\n\n\"Huh,\" grunted an officer, \"He's awful lucky.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Penny picked up the penny Cam had left behind, lying heads-up on the edge. \"*Lucky.*\""
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[WP] It started raining heavily all over the world, and it hasn't stopped for five/ten/fifteen/twenty years...
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"\"Hey Carl.\"\n\n\"Yeah, Pat?\"\n\n\"You ever seen that movie...\"\n\n\"You're gonna' have to be more specific, bub.\" Carl watched the line go into the water in front of him. It didn't move, of course. It didn't ever seen to move when he really wanted it to.\n\nPat stroked his chin for a second, watching another of their five fishing lines. \"The one where... uh... there's a lot of water.\"\n\nCarl swept his hand out towards the vast expanse of water before them.\n\n\"Yeah, kind of like that.\"\n\nHe shook his head, standing to grab another beer from the cooler in back of the boat. \"Want one?\"\n\nPat nodded.\n\nCarl tossed an crusty can of PBR towards his companion. \"Any bites yet?\" he eyed one of the lines, tension increasing ever so slightly.\n\nPat moved slowly, but methodically. He grabbed the line and snapped it quick with his finger. A smile spread across his face, \"got a live one, Carl.\"\n\n\"Well don't just sit there, reel it in, dumbass,\" he laughed.\n\n\"Yeehaw,\" came the reply. He pulled the line up, unhooking the prized catch. With one smooth motion, he dropped the line back in the water, popped the cap on his catch, and took a long swig, \"cold as the ocean.\"\n\n\"Got to love Milwaukee, aye?\"\n\nPat snapped his fingers, \"Waterworld.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Your movie,\" he said, \"the one where everythings... well.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Carl shook his head.\n\n\"At least it stopped raining.\"",
"Ohh, hey James.\n\n> Oh, hi. How're you doing?\n\nYeah, good, you?\n\n> Yeah, good. How about you?\n\nUhh, good.\n\n> Ohh, right, you just said that didn't you? Sorry.\n\nHaha, don't worry about it.\n\n> Yeah.\n\n...\n\nHow's your wife?\n\n> I'm not married.\n\nAren't you? I thought you were.\n\n> Not yet. I have a fiance.\n\nThat's right, I must've been confused. Nicole, right?\n\n> Stacy.\n\nOhh.\n\n> It's okay. She's good too.\n\nGood, good. That's good to hear.\n\n> ...\n\n> Crazy weather we're having, right?\n\nWhat?\n\n> The weather. All the rain and stuff...\n\nOh, yeah, right. Crazy.\n\n> When'll it end, huh?\n\nYeah, who knows?\n\n> Haha, yeah.\n\nMmm.\n\n> ...\n\n> The weather doesn't work as a conversation topic anymore, does it?\n\nNo.",
"My teacher says that somewhere way, way back in my family I had a family member who actually saw the sun! It was an exciting thing to learn but I can’t help but think how could that be true? The only things I can see when I’m on the deck of S.S. Annie are endless grey clouds and the soft ripples of water on The Great Ocean. ..\n\nWhen I get home I’ll ask mommy, maybe she can tell me whether or not Teacher was lying!",
"Did you know that cultures all over the world have flood myths? It's one of those little curiosities of human development. Some people think that there was a global flood, and that's why there are so many stories about it. It doesn't matter. The Rain isn't the same sort of flood those tales warn of.\n\nThere is no official name for the first day of the Rain. People call it \"Rain Day\" or \"Day One\". Day One was twenty years ago now. We noticed immediately, of course. It's not hard to notice rain in every desert on the planet simultaneously.\n\nIt isn't a Waterworld scenario. Even though the rain is heavy and consistent, water disappears elsewhere to keep the total amount constant. Note that I didn't say \"evaporates\". Water disappears from dams, sealed containers, artesian wells. Water also disappears from solutions as well, like blood and acid, though in relatively small amounts.\n\nWe can't explain it at all. Our scientists are stumped, unable to come up with any good theories. Our religious experts have the opposite problem; every one has a different belief. As always in these matters, the prevailing philosophy has been \"shut up and carry on\".\n\nThis may not sound disastrous. A little rain never hurt anyone, right? Wrong. Ever heard of the Grand Canyon? That's what's happening all over the planet. It's not fast but it is continuous.\n\nMaintenance on our buildings is difficult and expensive. Certain areas are essentially uninhabitable as the constant rain makes the ground unstable, undercuts foundations. Most crops can no longer be grown outdoors. Human society is dying a death of a trillion cuts.\n\nThere is one model that our scientists have created. It fits the data well enough. The main reason it hasn't been accepted by the public is its conclusion: the Rain is getting more intense. In sixty years the falling raindrops will be recovered so quickly that there will be no standing water at ground level. All life on Earth will be dead long before that point; with water \"evaporating\" every few minutes, hydration will be impossible.\n\nIn eighty years the only water on the planet will be in the cloud layer, a layer which will cover all of the Earth. By then whatever remains of civilisation will by mummified, preserved.\n\nWe don't know what caused the Rain. Some people say it is a divine punishment. Some say it is an alien invasion. There are even crazier guesses, that Earth is spinning a cocoon, or that sentient water is fighting back.\n\nI don't think the \"why\" really matters.",
"I was born in Cardiff, Wales. I'm Welsh. Rain is nothing new to me. Nor was it something very different for my father. He was a Canadian American brought up in Seattle. We knew rain like the back of our hands. \n\n\nBut my mother didn't really know how to drive in the rain. A head on collision made that she would never know.\n\n\nOne day, my father, coming home from work, turned off the television, brought me to the table and with a tired look, said, \"Son, when was the last time you saw the sun?\"\n\n\nI wasn't sure why he was asking me this. I wasn't really aware the memories when the sun was a rare privilege that people took for granted. \"About 5 years ago? Why dad?\"\n\n\n\"Well. You are nearing your age where you become a rebellious little clout. I know by then, you'll be knee deep in troubles, I won't be able to save you at every turn and a girl will break your heart. So, over the last little while, I have been saving some money...\"\n\n\nHis voice trailed off. His face, old and crinkly, the lines on his forehead becoming sharper every year. His pale neck and hard hands took mine and his dull brown eyes look into mine and simply state. \n\n\"I want you to see the sun one last time before you become a man.\"\n\n\nI was rather confused. The only way to see the sun for extended periods of time was to go on an airplane to some far exotic country. But the only airplanes running today were expensive Boeing Airliners, holding up to 1,000 people to reduce the risk between flights. \n\n\n\"How are we going to go up?\"\n\n\n\"By climbing.\"\n\n\nThe next thing I knew, I was packing a bag, buying a winter jacket and was on a train. My father didn't tell me any details. But we were on the train for a long period. By the time we arrived at our destination, everyone was speaking English with a Frenchish-Germanish accent. That night, we stayed in a small room. A temporary resting place. It was a hostel right beside the train station. \n\n\nEarly, the next morning, my father woke me. It was only 5AM. Groggily, I gathered my bag and followed him on autocruise. I wasn't really awake. I remember that we were on a bus for a while, going up a fairly steep incline. Then, it became colder. A lot colder. Snow was on the roads, and I had to put two sweaters and my jacket to keep warm. \n\n\nWhen we reached our destination, we were on a mountain. My father had already booked some tickets, so waited for what seemed like forever in a line that stretched across a field. But when we got to the front of the line, I saw the small cable car. 8 people per car, each car going up rather slowly. My father nudged me to check, \"You awake son?\"\n\n\n\"What time is it father? Where are we?\"\n\n\n\"We are at nearly at your future.\" He smiled. I was still unsure about what we were doing. I was nervously excited about the uncertainty of the adventure. The snow was light and the car ride was dull. Once we exited the cable car, I finally began to see what my father had dreamed about. We began walking towards a large building, entering it with the tickets, quickly. \n\n\nMy father, who kept glancing at me, quickly became more excited. We were walking, then opening a set of doors to reveal a platform, I saw it.\n\n\nIt was Matterhorn. With sunlight breaking from the clouds and striking the chiseled mountaintops. The golden rays of purity and the warmth that it emitted. It was pure, ecstasy. \n\n\nSunline. Sunshine. For the briefest of moments, I felt the world wash itself from the rain and emerge anew. It was the best moment of my life.",
"--July 15, 2023--\n\n\"Finally started raining, has it?\" said James, talking to Francine. Francine, his nurse, just looked at him and smiled. \"Why yes, I do believe it has James.\" His room had no windows, but anyone could hear the deafening downpour. Francine changed his bedpan and left the room.\n\n\n--July 15, 2024--\n\n\"I can't believe it's started raining, it was so dry yesterday,\" said James. Francince was gone now, but the new nurse used her name all the same. \"Yes, it's a tad strange sir, very unexpected,\" she said. She finished her duties and left the room.\n\n--July 15, 2034--\n\n\"Feels like it's been raining all night, doesn't it?\" said James. His nurse, he didn't even remember her name, just looked at him and didn't respond.\n\n--July 15, 2054--\n\nJames May, was a good man. Early in his life, he developed amnesia. Until the very day he died, his faithful nurses did all they could to keep him content. He died on a rainy day, his favorite kind of day, and may he rest eternally in the rain he loves so much. -Newspaper obituaries.\n\n"
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"She tells the story a little different..."
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[WP] Tell the story of Red Riding Hood from the wolf's perspective, being Red Riding Hood the villain of the story
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"*A body, obscured by darkness, attempts to hide in a ditch at the back of the stage. However, the ditch is far too small, and his limbs sprawl out. The heavy tramping and shouting of the hunting party is heard off stage, growing louder and louder. The body's desperate panting is the only other sound. The men, baying for blood, appear on stage left.*\n\nHunters: He went this way! See the broken branches Look! Blood! We're closing in on the kill; let's catch this bastard!\n\n*The men search the stage, some almost with their noses on the floor, like blood-hounds. They throw over boxes and trample through bushes, but cannot find their prey. Frustrated, they move on. The body appears tentatively from his den, and steps, hunched and cowed, into the light. He is a feeble old man, and obviously very frightened.*\n\nThe old man: Have they gone? \n\n*He jumps behind a bush when he hears a twig snap, but appears again after a few seconds.*\n\nI think they've gone. Oh God. What's happening? How did this happen?! \n\n*He almost weeps; his voice breaks and he eases his weary bones to the ground.*\n\nTwo days ago, sitting in my leather armchair, marking essays. An un-opened parcel lying on my desk. It was my new book: the history of the Peloponnesian War. Opening a package is always exciting, even when you know what's in it. The little things in life... *(He falls silent for a few seconds)* 18 pounds for a hardback; all gone to waste. But none of that matters anymore. Why am I even thinking about it?\n\n*He falls silent again, taking off his boots with obvious difficulty and pain.*\n\nThey must now be crawling over everything. My books, laptop, camera, papers... They're **my** things. Well not any more. *(He sighs)* Anyway, they won't find anything. But they'll pretend. Have you heard what they call me? In all the papers, on every front page? There goes all my respect, my image. The Wolf. I mean seriously, it's like out of a fucking book. Hypocritical bastards. I mean, in scapegoating, it's the wolves who eat the goats, right? And I'm the goat.\n\n*He falls silent again, his head bowed, looking at his hands. As he looks up towards the audience, his face is wet with tears.*",
"I've lived in the woods my entire life and I only have two memories from my pup years. \n\nThe first is playing with my brothers, sisters, mother and father in these very woods. We would run and stalk and challenge each other across this entire tree filled expanse.\n\nThe second is when a woman, her granddaughter, and her lumberjack son decided to move into these woods - more specifically - into our den. \n\nSee, a wolf's den is it's home and we know better than to travel too far away from it. We don't just randomly run out into places unheard of and kill people. We only kill and eat things that are close enough to our den to feed everyone. So imagine my surprise when I wake up one day to see a group of 3 humans with rifles just clearing out the forest of all wolves. I watched as the lumberjack shot my brothers and sisters. I whimpered as my father was put down by the older lady. \n\nI will never forget what happens next.\n\nMy mother told me to run - to hide. And I did. But not before seeing her die at the hands of a young girl who was just learning how to use a rifle. I remember how the older lady showed the little girl the right way to hold a gun. I remember when the little girl put a bullet in between my mother's eyes. I remember when they made the little girl skin my mother. The worst part of it all was when the little girl had taken to the habit of wearing my mother's red fur as a cape and hood.\n\nBut those are all memories, and today is a new day.\n\nToday is the day that I exact my revenge and drive these humans away from my home. But first, lets see how much this little girl likes it when people wear their family members as clothing."
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[WP] A man/woman sits idly on a hilltop as he/she waits for a nuclear warhead to strike their city and contemplates their life.
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"The sirens seemed surreal. They cushioned the quiet and muted what was sure to be sheer panic down in the streets. Up here though, with the calm breeze pushing against the branches above me, it was as if I was simply watching a movie.\n\nShe sat next to me, stirring with the breeze and settling when the leaves did. She had a loose grip on my pinky. It was this thing she did. We could never agree with whose hand went on top so she'd started holding my pinky and it stuck. \n\n\"Remember the syrup incident?\" she asked. We started at the sound of an small explosion in the city. Flames rose like dandelions in distance, their seeds spreading further across the countryside, blotting out the setting sun. \n\n\"Yeah I remember.\" I said quietly. The wind pushed her hair into my face. It had always smelled like a forest. Now it smelled like fire. She huffed and blew the hair out of her face. She tightened her grip on my pinky and tore out grass with her other hand. \n\n\"I'm still mad at him for that.\" She said. I could feel the fear in her voice. The only time I'd ever seen her stagger was when death had taken our son. Now death had come to reunite us.\n\n\"You can ground him soon enough.\" I responded, trying to swallow my own fear. Trying to be her strength when she had so often been mine. We stared at the trail in the sky, death come for us. Death come for them all. I could hear distant screams. It'd been good, I thought. My life had been good. A wail rose to meet the distant screaming. A roar rose to overpower the sirens. My wife rose to meet it. I looked up at her from the grass as she stood staring at death. I simply stared at her. The world went silent and I closed my eyes.",
"I'd been warned...well, not me specifically. My partner. They'd warned anyone whom they thought might deserve a job in DC one day. But the years I'd spent with my partner had obviously mattered enough to warrant a warning. I was at the top of a nearby mountain, just far enough that the blast would have no negative effects on my health. Of course, that discluded my already shoddy mental health. \n\nI looked at my companion, the only true friend I had apart from my partner, who thought I was crazy for wanting to watch. If only she knew. A black helicopter flew by overhead, most likely her and some other upper level stooges leaving before the world came crashing down. I'll be with them...soon enough. But now...well, my companion can't leave the city. He'll be destroyed with everything else, when it all comes toppling down. \n\nIf only I had been able to make my peace...now I have only a few short minutes with him. I turned, looking at my companion...the projected form of Arthur...oh Arthur. 23 months I'd spent building this supercomputer...this digital human...and now he was destined to die. If only I had more time with him. Only seconds left now...it was time.\n\n\"Goodbye Arthur. I'm going to miss you most of all.\" \"Goodbye si--\". And that was it. That was the last I heard of him. I looked down at the city, and at that moment I didn't see the ashes of my family, or the ashes of my coworkers...I saw the ashes of my friend.",
"By my count we have two minutes left. It's funny to see how things change when you go from never knowing which day will be your last, to watching the sweep hand on a chronometer make the final two turns. 'Live each day like it might be your last!', they say. I have 120 seconds left starting now.\n\nThere were six cities on six hills when I was younger, each gleaming and magnificent in its own right. Tanbeth was tall with marvelous spires of glass and steel, full of industrious people who never tired in outdoing each other. Belial and Ormburg were the twin cities, linked by the Glass Bridge which some said straddled the very soul of this world. Absemini was full of people who had an insatiable hunger for knowledge, never accepting any limits in their quest to unlock just one more secret of the universe. The coastal city of Peoniop was a sparkling jewel on the sea and from the sky, her ports both sea and space filled with all manner of people who traded in everything from spice to souls. Then there was beautiful Crescenda, most prominent and mighty of all the six sisters. Also my home. From the heights of the Dominate's Tower we were lords of men, aspirant gods who were ready to challenge the natural order of things and become truly unbound. Those were heady days my friend.\n\nBy my count I have one minute left. The sweep hand on my chronometer starts her final journey.\n\nWe blinded ourselves to all the warnings, ensuring each other that such signs were merely the failings of others. We were to be gods after all, how could anything stop such manifest destiny? We did not stop when the Rotting Wanderplague forced us to set Peoniop to the torch, burning the poor, dessicated, shambling corpses who had once been the fair people of that trade city. We did not stop when the Dark Rift opened in Absemini, her magi-scientists having pierced one veil too many, allowing those hungering abominations in. We still did not stop when fraternal twins Belial and Ormburg cast down their centuries of love to fight on the Glass Bridge in unchecked madness, staining that silver arc permanently red in what places they did not destroy. We continued on in our hubris even when the people of Tanbeth as one began throwing themselves from their spires, disgusted and too ashamed to go on knowing that the living spirits of their ancestors had been harvested and burned over time to power the city's mighty industries.\n\nNow I sit on this hill overlooking Crescenda, smoke mars the sky above the Dominate's Tower. I am old and there is only one city left on a hill. She has lost the beauty from my youth, the blush of power's promise gone and replaced by the hideous crone face of a wicked city hungering for more. Like a cancer, we were soon to spread out from Crescenda, from this planet, consuming all the spirits and life in our path as we transmuted from men into monsters. \n\nBy my count we have ten seconds left. On the horizon I spot a swath of new stars moving at speed. I rest the chronometer face down, there is no more need for it. I have called these stars in to excise the cancer of this world before it can spread to others. Young, old, it matters little for we are all collectively guilty. Thankfully there were a few who agreed with me, who realized there was one act of humanity we could yet make. Will it absolve our sins? I doubt it.\n\nBy my count we have one second left. I think I will close my eyes for a bit and dream of the six cities from my youth."
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[WP] A depressed teen hires a hitman to take him out to make it not look like a suicide.
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"Fiona shivered in her nightgown and waited for her death to arrive. The chill in the night air cut to her bone. She brushed a lock of her blonde hair from her wet eyes. The time for crying was over, and she had made her peace with the world.\n\nNo life stirred in the deserted alley near her home save for a piece of crumpled wrapper rustling along the ground pushed by the occasional stagnant breeze. *Rich trash still smelled like shit*, she thought. \n\nA shadow emerged behind her and grabbed her shoulders making her shriek before a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. She started hyperventilating into the glove. A voice from behind shushed her and let her loose.\n\nShe turned to him with fury in her eyes and landed impotent blows on his chest, “What the hell are you doing? I said kill me quickly, not scare me to death!”\n\nA chuckle escaped from his hooded face. He dressed like the night itself. “Come on, girlie, you’re about to die. Live a little.” His gravelly voice unnerved her.\n\n“I paid you good money, so I expect some professionalism. Now just do it.” The anger in her voice left her and she turned away, but a strong hand on her shoulder whipped her around. Their faces were inches apart. “What, are you going to kiss me first?” she spat out the words.\n\nHis lips widened to a smile behind the mask. “If that’s what you want, I don’t mind giving out a freebie since you paid for the premium service.” \n\n“No, I’m done with kisses from boys.”\n\nHe lifted her arms away from her body and gaped at her nightgown admiring her firm curves. “How about from a man?”\n\nShe slapped him and wrapped her hands around her chest, “Are you a contract killer or pedophile?”\n\n“Like I says, I don’t mind giving out freebies especially for a fine high school specimen such as yourself.”\n\n“For the last time, no!”\n\n“You won’t mind if I have a taste after you’re dead right? I like to ask first. Still feels wrong to do it without asking first.”\n\nShe only glared at hiim. A moment lingered between them.\n\nThen she gasped when he came at her with blinding speed and closed his hand around her throat. A cold knife appeared at her cleavage. Her breath came in waves and she felt the cold steel at the crest of each wave.\n\nHis voice turned mean, “Fine, let’s get this killing business done then. But you’re forgetting something.” His eyes drilled into her.\n\n“W-w-what?” her meek voice escaped from behind clattering teeth.\n\n“You want this to look real, right?”\n\n“It would kill my dad if he thought his little girl…” Her voice choked.\n\n“So I’m gonna need to put a few bruises on you first.” He leered at her. “Let’s begin.”\n\nWith a deft hand, he turned the blade around so the dull edge rested on her hot skin between her breasts, and sliced from the top through the front of the flimsy nightgown revealing her designer bra.\n\nHis hot breath was in her ears. “I’m thinking I just ruined about a thousands dollars worth of fashion, am I right?”\n\nShe nodded, and closed her eyes. “Just do it, asshole!” Her words came out whispered and ragged.\n\nHe took his time and slid the knife down from her cleavage to her belly to rest over a slight bulge below.\n\n“Not there!” A pang of guilt overwhelmed her. “Not there! I don’t want it to suffer.”\n\nHis knife stopped there, and lingered, “Is that why you’re throwing away your very very rich life?”\n\n“My friends will hate me. My father will disown me. I will be the laughingstock at school.”\n\nHe pitied her, “I know of a clinic. Very discreet.”\n\nShe pushed him away hard then taking him by surprise and sending him reeling. “No! I can’t. I just can’t! It has a heartbeat. I can feel her speaking to me in my dreams. It’s early, but I just know.”\n\nHe walked to her with guarded steps, “You think this is the answer?”\n\n“I can’t face my father, my friends, my teachers.” She started sobbing then. She silently cursed herself for her weakness.\n\n“If you love her so much, why don’t you fight for her? Stand up for her?”\n\n“No, I—“ She paused, stopped her sobbing, and sunk to the ground. A good minute elapsed, but he said nothing. The cold seeped in and he shivered. He could see her wracking her brain, working through her problems, her fists bunching up, then resolve in her eyes as she got up.\n\n“You’re right. I will fight for her,” she said. “You can keep the money.”\n\nHe just nodded. She pulled the tatters of her gown together and slunk away.\n\nHe waited till she left and let out a huge sigh. Footsteps approached him. A hand clapped on his back, not unfriendly.\n\n“Thanks, pal” The words came from an older man’s face which bore signs of exhaustion and relief.\n\nHe pulled his mask off. “I’m going to be asking for the same favor if my little girl pulls this shit.”\n\n“You can count on it, buddy.”\n\n“What are you going to do about her problem?”\n\n“We’ll figure out a way. I didn’t think I’d live long enough to see a grandkid. It’s time for retirement and Disneyland anyway.”\n\n“Wanna grab a beer? Your treat.”\n\nThey had a good laugh, and started walking together.\n\n“I loved that line about the ‘taste after she was dead’.”\n\n“You should hear what the perps say when we bring them in. Hey, have I got a story for you…”\n",
"\"So, Is it still considered suicide?\" \n\"What?\"\n\"Well, If I hire you to kill me, would it still be suicide?\"\n\"Listen kid, I'm not you god dammed therapist.\"\n\"Well, will I know when you're gonna do it?\"\n\"Nope, no ones does.\"\n\"But I just wan't the pain to end, why is it always me who gets rejected, always me who get's beat up, always me who gets the short stick.\"\n'Kid, I told you, I'm- look kid, sometimes hard times happen, sometimes they don't, sometimes they are only temporary.\"\n\"Well, I'm tired. I'm tired of suffering. I just want to end it.\"\n\"Well, you're talking to an extremely experienced killer.\"\n\"So, I just give you the money, and it all ends.\"\n\"Yea, that's how it works.\"\n\"Well, will I know when it's gonna happen?\"\n\"No ones for sure, but it will happen.\"\n\"Oh, I guess it's a good thing, I guess seeing it coming would make the whole thing seem scary or something.\" \n\"Yea, I guess. Now will you just shut up and give me the money kid, I have other business to attend to.\"\n\"Oh, okay, well here's the money. So I guess I'll see ya.\"\nLittle did he know that his life was going to get better. He would graduate from high school, go on to college, make friends, find love, and even be happy. His judgement was clouded by his perceived perpetual sadness, which wasn't all that perpetual. Many years have passed since I saw the kid last. I have killed millions of people since then. But now, it was time to complete my job. The kid wasn't a kid anymore. He was now an elderly man, burdened by wrinkles caused by many years of smiling and laughing. Even in his state of illness, he is still smiling. His family and friends were crowding over his hospital bed, reminiscing about old times. I watched as the day passed. The later it got, the more somber the atmosphere became. The doctors had told them that he probably wouldn't survive the night. As visiting hours came to an end, the tears were flowing from everyones eyes. They were suspended in a state of profound silence as they all just looked at him laying there. He was staring back, with a smile. He really was happy, even though he knew his death was soon coming. They stayed that way for awhile. His wife broke the silence, she she let out a quiet sob, and went to hug the him, the rest followed. They said their goodbyes, and slowly left the room, looking back at him periodically to see him gently waving. It was time, I walked in the room.\nHis eyes widened and and I knew he recognized me.\n\"You.\"\n\"Hey kid, it's time.\" \n\"Thank you.\"",
"The pain was getting to me, mind-searing and gut-wrenching. It was more than just something felt; I embodied it.\n\nThe worst part was watching my family and friends try and be strong for me. At school, I observed with disdain as my teachers began to treat me like I was something so fragile I’d break from anything. They stopped assigning me homework. They stopped making me take tests or work on labs and projects. My friends were even worse. They became more serious and increasingly uncomfortable with my presence at the lunch table. Every time I walked along the halls, silence followed me.\n\nI was a dead man walking and everyone saw it.\n\nOddly enough, this was bearable. Pity had its perks. I’ve had more hugs from the school’s hottest and most popular girls then I think they gave their boyfriends. Hell, when I was first diagnosed, I even got a good lay or two just so I could say I died without my V-card. They made me Prom King, and Miss America, a girl who went to my high school a few years back, was my date.\n\nEarly on, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.\n\nBut months passed, and my condition worsened. The insurance paid for my medication but not the hospital visits. I saw the financial strain my family endured. My little sister couldn’t take ballet lessons. The dog we were hoping to get was put on hold for when money wasn’t tight anymore. My life was becoming a burden to the people I loved, and that was significantly worse than my body’s degeneration.\n\nWhen I was diagnosed, I had insisted on getting a life insurance policy so that, when I did die, I could pay my family back with a little extra. It became a hobby for me to calculate and update the amount. My heart raced at the notion that not only would all those hospital visits and stabilizing equipment would be paid off, but they would be set for many years to come. My sister could pursue dancing and attend any art school she wanted. They could get a bigger house. They could get the dog. Sadly, the state I lived in was against assisted suicide, and if I killed myself my family would lose that money and have to pay those bills out of pocket. I may have been dying, but I wasn’t going to be remembered that way.\n\nAfter school I smuggled a bottle of wine from downstairs and went to my room do conduct some research with a bit of drunken courage. Perhaps there was a loophole I could find so that the insurance *had* to pay. Forum after forum was read with vigor until someone, jokingly, suggested that there should be the option to hire a hit man on yourself. Technically it wasn’t suicide, they reasoned. They weren't helping you kill yourself. *They* were killing *you*, and that makes it murder.\n\nSomething in my intoxicated brain clicked and for the following days I couldn’t get it out of my head. It felt like an answer to my prayers as my kidneys began failing and I was sporadically pissing blood. My body was shutting down slowly, but I was elated. I continued my research in trying to find someone to do the job, but did it as anonymously as possible. I used computers at cafe’s and promptly deleted my history. I made sure there wouldn’t be any ties to myself. I wouldn’t write a goodbye letter. I wouldn’t give myself away.\n\nWhen I found her, and she can only be found in places you wouldn’t think to look, she wasn’t surprised. She had told me that it isn’t as uncommon as many people believe, but that’s The Man for you. I asked her the price, and she told me to pack like I was going to school or to the library to study. She could wipe everything and sell it for a pretty penny. While it wasn’t the most expensive job she’s done, her price varied on the person, the situation, and how dangerous it had the potential to becoming. Other than that, I wasn’t informed when or how I was going to die. For a person who was going to kill me, I trusted this complete stranger implicitly.\n\nEvery day I packed as she suggested, with my computer, camera, iPhone, and wallet. And after the third day, I stopped hurting.\n\n ",
"I am walking, not in any particular direction, or any single direction. I might be pacing, or just walking erratically. I am pacing. First forward, back, left, back, back, forward repeating exponentially in columns of three. The lot is cold and empty. The tree is gone. I begin to think he isn't coming. He isn't coming. I look on the car and see a moth. It's moving it's wings slowy. 1, 2, then 3 oscillations of up and down. it flies chaotically, then sits still again. I feel afraid for it, that it is maybe waiting for something that isn't really real and can't figure out that it isn't maybe real and it maybe will feel sad and bad. One of it's wings is shorter than the other. It's name is Sho.\n\nHe is here now. And a gun too, and in his hand. Everything looks kind of orange now. I begin to count up seconds, starting with 1, and making my way up the other numbers each of which I spoke progressively less amount of times over the course of my life, when it happened or is happening. I think of how little time is left, and will always have had been left. I feel regret for doing all of this, but I push that away out of my stomach. He is saying words, but I only hear sounds. I noticed he ended in an upward inflection, indicating a question or an uncertainty. I nodded. He moved. I nodded again. His face was made of stone and I was a storm and the whole world was a school with pencils flying around, blown by the wind. He looks around. I look around, imitating him. I can feel down the corridors of my back sharp pains, bullets like cracks in glass. With grim depression my brow sinks, as the world blurs from my eyes slightly. The seconds are larger, in there 20's. These ones I said less, and I won't ever really have the years of these numbers, but I never expected to. I think of her. I feel sick. I stop thinking of her. I remember a dream, when I couldn't remember or figure out what sound was and it was gone and time ended or stopped and I couldn't figure out what time as or if it ever existed and I was dead and I've been dead. He shoots. The numbers get larger. Everything feels slippery. Most things feel like they are going away but it feels kind of broken but now ",
"\"Hi, um you're Mr. Voyde, right?\"\n\nHe nodded. You know, I didn't think I'd go out this way, but I damn well know that everyone will be jealous of how I died! Death by murder....\n\nMom will cry for me, dad will notice that I put up a fight, that piece of shit Dexter will apologize to my cold face as he attends my funeral. \n\nIt's worth it.\n\n\"I have your money. Sorry it took so long. I'm not old enough to wait tables, so I had to bus them.\"\n\nI tossed a thick manila envelope over to him. Just like in the movies. I even picked out where we met! Underneath our town's most popular dock, at night, of course.\n\n\"How do you want to die?\"\n\nWhat a strange question to ponder.\n\n\"Make it look like someone killed me, I don't want to go down as the kid who committed suicide.\"\n\n\"When do you want to die?\"\n\n\"Surpri - \"\n\nWho knew silenced guns were so quiet, and that being shot hurt so much. The bastard looked me in the eyes as reholstered his gun. \n\nAm I gonna bleed out? \n\n\"Keep this near you, it'll make it look like you got killed by some gangbanger.\"\n\nHe spilled the contents of a bag of what looked to be some drug - Meth, I dont know, all over me. I'm fucking bleeding out.\n\nI'm gonna go down as a junkie, as someone who gave up on life before death took him. Someone who threw away the time to hone his potential into something that could really do something, for cheap fixes.\n\nPathetic, I didn't want to die as a junkie. Maybe I should've just killed myself.\n\n\"This isn't what I wanted...\" I held my gut tighter.\n\n\"Why's it matter? You're dead anyways.\""
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[WP] A man undergoes a experimental new surgery to remove his emotions. He walks out the hospital the next morning and...
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"Nothing. Absolute and crushing nothing. That's what I feel. And I hate it. \n\nAs I walk home I watch the world. The sun is shining. The birds are chirping. Children are playing. And I don't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore. \n\nFor so long I felt the sorrow. I felt the worst kind of pain. The sadness that came but never left. And I hated that. I hated the pain. I wanted it gone. \n\nBut this unfeeling. This complete and utter indifference. It is almost more stifling. I am alone in this world. I share no connection with anything, anyone. \n\nI want it back. I don't care what it is. I just want to feel something. \n\nThere's no point in going on. Nothing matters anymore. \n\nAt least when I cried I knew I felt something. ",
"He awoke. The sun was shining through the window on his face, so he squinted. The nurse noticed his movement and gave him a big smile. He watched as she ran and grabbed his doctor. The doctor also smiled at him, and asked him how he was feeling. He simply stared. The doctor chuckled and suggested that the surgery must have been successful. \n\nHe was quick to sign the papers to release him from the hospital. He removed his gown and put on his street clothes. As the automatic doors to the entrance of the hospital opened with a quiet whir, he took his first steps outside in over a month. He felt a breeze on his chest, as the sun warmed his face. It must be considered to be a perfect day.\n\nHe turned to face the parking lot, his hand automatically straying to his coat pocket where his car keys were. The ride home was silent, as he had no need to listen to the radio or play songs from his phone. He was honked at occasionally, for he didn't allow any room for cars to merge into his lane, as is common courtesy. But he drove on obliviously.\n\nHe pulled into the driveway and locked the car as he headed towards his house. He picked up the newspapers that had accumulated on his porch over the past few weeks, and carried them in. As he placed his keys in the bowl that rested on the stand by the door, the adjacent picture of his late wife caught his eye. The newspapers in his arms fell to the floor with soggy thumps as he collapsed on the floor, clutching his heart that throbbed with sorrow and agony.\n\nIt didn't work."
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[WP] You wake up and instead of a blue sky, it is purple and green.
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"It was odd, but beautiful. Most things I loved were like that. There was always a mold for everything. Every morning, I woke up to Brahms' lullaby. Everyday, she texted me during her lunch break. Everyday, the sky was blue. I remember walking outside that morning and being stunned. It was quite... lavender? There were splashes of dark violet and forest green, but the sky was different. It was odd, but beautiful. \n\nI texted her a photo, and asked how she was. No response... odd. I came inside to get on my computer. No internet service... odd. I go to turn my T.V. on, but it wasn't working... again odd. I tried calling the cable company... nothing. The day was so odd, but something about that sky. It was odd, but beautiful. \n\nShe came home. She was odd. \"Joseph, lets lay down\". She never called me by my first name... ever. She headed up stairs. I called out \"Did you get my message?\". She slammed the bedroom door shut. She's never slammed the door shut... ever. I bolted upstairs. She was completely nude, head to toe. She was getting under the covers. She wasn't wearing socks. She never gets into bed without socks... ever. Something is odd. I manage to mumble \"Did you see the sky today.\" She lit up. \"I did. It was odd, but beautiful\". \n\nI sat on the bed. She looked calm. \"Would you like to join me on a journey?\" she said. I wasn't sure what the journey was. I knew the mold had changed. They broke the sky when they came down. Every morning would be odd, but beautiful. That was their gift to us. That was the gift to those left behind from the cultivation. "
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I tried to keep the title ambiguous.
Either an asteroid impact or nuclear war has occurred, and has been misinterpreted as judgement day by many, or this is the literal judgement day. So either his followers simply worship him as lord of the underworld, or perhaps some cosmic force really has granted him this power. Perhaps it seems one way at first, but it's really the other.
Write about any part of this process, the building of the bunker, the coming of the apocalypse, the first influx of survivors, the structuring of the underground society, a problem encountered during their isolation, the end of his reign... Write from the viewpoint of a survivor who becomes doubtful, a doubter who becomes a worshipper, a noble in the new system, a slave, or even the billionaire himself. (Or perhaps the real Lucifer, who feels angry about being usurped.)
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[WP] A billionaire builds an extensive underground bunker anticipating nuclear war. Before that can happen, judgement day occurs, and his bunker becomes a haven for fleeing sinners. Due to his interference in the proceedings, he becomes the de facto Satan.
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"Diary entry number 837.\n\nApril 21, 2043\n\nAs mentioned in entry 351, the non-believers have come to seek haven in my bunker. As pleased as I am to have the company in these dark times, I wish to go and explore the outside world. In my life, I have done everything I wished to do. I have acquired fame, fortune, women, money; every desire filled by my hard work and I've wanted for nothing since my journey began, many days ago. \n\nI must confess, I do believe that whatever power caused this is not content with my existence at the moment. It is all I can do to stay in my fortress, terrified of what the next moment of sunlight may bring. Angels, brought to Earth as mortals from the Heavens, just as Christ did so long ago. I was never much a man of faith, but I did what I thought I could from gaining such material wealth. The Holy Army approaches my doorstep with each day, and I fear for the worst. For now, I do believe we are safe.\n\nDiary entry number 838.\n\nApril 28, 2043\n\nIt has been a few days since I've had the opportunity to sit in my study to jot down my thoughts. Each passing hour is as a chore. I do believe this is God's doing. Every second weighing on my soul like an eternity. It was never my intention to defy His Holy Will, however, it seems as though I've done so, in doing what I thought was right. I feel as though I should tell this story in full, should the mortals all perish; the Earth inhabited by creatures more closely matching His desire and His Holy Will. In the early days of the War To End All Wars, we thought it may have just been a country cleverly disguising their attack. We never could have guessed that Judgement Day had come to pass. The sun never rose to zenith; when the sun would rise, it would only be for periods of twilight. During these hours, His Holy Warriors; an army of brilliantly shining Angelic knights and His Devout Followers; would travel across the land, slaying every poor soul whom they met. Undead knights followed close behind. Souls and bodies raised from the dead as skeletal horrors shrouded in black mists, who brought up the rear of this army and reaped the souls of those who managed to survive the front lines of the Heavenly assault. \n\nI must leave now. Fortressmother Linda requires my assistance. We've an expecting housewife bringing a babe to this sorry excuse for a world.\n\nDiary entry number 839\n\nApril 29, 2043\n\nTerrible news. The expecting mother has given birth to a stillborn. We fear this is the work of the Divine; that He now knows our location, or has known all along. This may be our final entry, as it means the Judgement Day Warriors are following this death.\n\nDiary entry number 840\n\nMay 3, 2043\n\nPlease forgive me if my handwriting is poor, as for the last few nights I've been unable to get even a bit of rest. The Divine has made His knowledge of our haven clear. Every last morsel of food has gone bad, even the canned goods. The water turns to sand as it leaves the bottle. Damn Him! He is simply toying with us now. I've got a few ideas on how we may survive this event, but nothing concrete and nothing I'd like to put into writing. If this document is found by the next race which walks this Earth, I hope to God- no... I hope for the sake of humanity that these writings will serve to save even one soul from an eternal fate. It is not worth living forever. Not as it has been made known to us that He who promised to be our Heavenly Father, has betrayed us and made it known that He is our enemy. Perhaps it is time to turn to dark spirits in these even darker times...\n\nDiary entry number 841.\n\nMay 15, 2043\n\nI've no idea how we've survived even this long. It's been well over a year, and as my diary entries become further and further apart, do believe that our situation is becoming a bit brighter. There is hope in the darkness after all. We have turned to the Great Demon Lucifer. We fully intend to convince him to lead us in the fight against Heaven. Damn! If only we had some way to contact him...\n\nDiary entry number 842.\n\nMay 21, 2043\n\nLucifer has heard our pleas for assistance. He appeared to me in the form of a serpent and made an arrangement with me. For the good of my inhabitants, I begrudgingly accepted this offer. In exchange for my body and soul, he has granted me the assistance of the entirety of Hell's population. Great demons now walk the earth, gravelings, similar to the heavenly skeletal warriors I mentioned earlier, are casting dark and evil Magicks and slaying portions of god's army. We are taking many losses, but Lucifer assures me that it will be fine.\n\nA great war is taking place outside. I'm unsure of the outcome. In fact, I'm unsure of any future. If the heavenly father wins, we'll surely all be condemned to a fate far worse than Hell. However, should the Dark Forces remain victorious, it could spell an age of fire, darkness, and Hell on Earth. For the moment, I can't decide which scares me more.\n\nDiary entry number 483\n\nAny indication of time has become meaningless now. There is no longer any need for me to keep track of something so trivial. Great war continues to wage on outside the doors of my concrete tomb. His Dark Holiness assures us we're on the winning side, though. He seems to understand our plight, as he's been in this very situation for an eternity until now. The only sound of comfort we have is the sound of the holy soldiers being slaughtered from outside each twilight. I do not relish this fact, as with each death, no matter which side it belongs to, I draw nearer to my demise.\n\nI believe I forgot to mention, Lucifer has done us a great favor. Our bodies no longer require the nourishment that mortals do. He has modified us, our mortal forms becoming twisted and hollow, making us harder and harder to kill. Sleep, water, food; these are things we no longer require. It is a difficult existence, but it is still an existence. We thank His Dark Holiness for this.\n\nDiary entry number 844\n\nIt has become apparent that we are demons now. My body is the only one which remains even somewhat human in appearance. Everyone else appears very dragon-like, much like the common depiction of demons many years ago. His Dark Holiness has imbued our bodies with Magicks. We are now able to defend ourselves against the \"holy\" invaders. He promises us weapons of twisted steel and dark flame, which we shall use to take our land back. It will be a Land of Undeath. Great Lord Lucifer has promised that he will not take my body in full, that he will leave me with a vessel with which to become an Emperor of this Great Promised Land. It is a complete honor to me, though he has clearly chosen the best man for the job. When He finishes with His dark duties, He will rest for a thousand years. Then, I will rest. I have earned this.\n\nDiary entry number 835\n\nIt has been many years since I've written in this old book. My old friend. The war has been over for a long time. The insufferable god has taken his followers to his land, while I rule over mine. It is a land of immortal creatures which walk this Earth. There is no sunlight anymore, only darkness. Torches are kept lit by firekeepers, demons which were allowed to use fire Magicks during the war. Grass maintains a muddy brown, its appearance matching the scorched and dead land we now live on. And I, its Emperor, rule as I once did. I no longer have to live in the shadows with my wealth. I once more have everything I desire. I am a Lord of Death and His Dark Holiness' most trusted knight. All who live in my land are tortured, but this is exactly what they sought after; a land free of the Heavens, unburdened by the false promises of kind treatment from a deceiving father.",
"\"Sta-aaan. They're at it again. Simon's got hold of an axe again and has lopped off his therapist's head.\" My attendant was impatiently rapping on the door. \n\n\"Coming, coming!\" I grumbled.\n\nThat's the second time this week. It's as if no-one cared about my sabbatical. \n\n\"Go to Earth. Go underground (literally). Have a holiday. You'll get some well-deserved rest, and cure that rash by bathing in cocoa butter for a week or so.\" That's what all the Demons said. \n\nI eager lapped it all up. Dreams floated through my head of secret islands in the pacific, those girls with their coconuts...But God buggered it all up.\n\nYou see, it was my ritual. Every 666 years I'd take a year off from the torture, let the flames die and let the iron toe-nail pluckers rust. Have one year for a bit of zen, reach inner peace, and don't punish anyone. It wasn't tough; I loved the quiet and the harmony. Everyone expects me to be some sadist, but I'm just the guy with the bad office job. That one guy who has to clean the toilets after someone's had diarrhoea. It's not as if they enjoy it.\n\nMy bedroom began to resound with the impatient tapping. Sure enough, I'd fallen asleep again.\n\n\"I'm coming, for Hell's sake!\" I roared. \n\nI'd slipped; a bit of the beast had come out. The door had flown off its hinges, and taken my secretary with it down the hall.\n\n\"Sorry.\" I said, having rushed over to her, still in my pyjamas, and picked her daintily up again. There's no need to worry, she's a demon, so there wouldn't be any lasting damage. But she was pretty pissed.\n\nHaving slotted my door back in its place, and left my secretary to find a new pair of glasses, I set off to find Simon. This walking business is awfully slow, but I vowed to spend this year without any dark magic. You'd have thought God would have been pleased with that. But no. The thought of me enjoying a couple of masseuses irked him. So he sent down some asteroids, jealous of my me-time, and flooded my cosy lair with shrieking humans. \n\nI couldn't turn them away because I'd vowed not to punish anyone. I'm sure he knew that. Doing nothing would have committed them to death, so I had to let them in. And the only people who came were sinners, who thought that their lucky escape must mean that God has forgiven their sins, and so they may as well continue regardless. \n\nDo you really think I'd believe that it's just a coincidence that the only people around my Las Vegas hide-out were sinners. Really God, just some coincidence that no-one nice and innocent came asking for help? You bastard. But I won't succumb. I'll tame their evil with therapy, board games, exercise and poetry discussion rather than beat them into submission. You're not going to ruin my holiday.\n\n\"Shit.\" I exclaimed, as Simon ran off in the other direction, his axe soaked in blood. \n\nMy inner reflection had left Simon to continue his murderous rampage. I spurred these joints of ham which humans call legs into motion, and ran after him.\n\n\n\n",
"“You’re going to sit over here with Julie.”\n\n“Yes sir,” Fred said, sitting down. Julie stared back at him, eyes empty and motionless.\n\n“Wonderful,” Stan said. He stood up and walked over to the wall opposite Julie and Fred’s chairs. It wasn’t a wall like the others, which were a thickness of over twenty feet of concrete and steel, but a blocked-off wall of cans and bottles—food, water, juice, and any other non-perishable Stan could buy. He’d spent well over $400 million on food items alone, enough to last well beyond his own lifetime, and another $100 million to protect it. They’d laughed at him, said he’d gone crazy – that he was wasting his billions on something that wasn’t going to happen. They were naïve, or perhaps willfully ignorant. Whatever the reason, they were now dead, and Stan couldn’t help but smile every time he thought about it. \n\nStan admired the wall, a clear plastic panel protecting mountains of food behind it. He’d had it specially built and installed before even buying the first canned good. He told the contractors it was to keep out rats—not the animal kind, but the people kind. He didn’t want those he chose to save to completely eat him out of sanctuary. No, it needed to be strong enough to hold off a horde of maniacal people on the edge of sanity and hysteria—although he knew they’d be leaning more towards hysterics. The barrier was twelve inches thick, made from thermoplastic, polycarbonate, and laminated glass – the same stuff bulletproof glass was constructed of. But Stan had the builders add a little something extra: a clear alloy made of various metals, which would project outward several feet at so much the brush of human skin. He couldn’t be too safe, and he was damn glad he added the extra layer.\n\nWithin the first weeks of the shelter’s use, dozens had come to his feet to seek refuge, to beg forgiveness for casting him off as insane. Oh how their words had changed—just a week prior, taunts and ridicule were all that followed his name. Now, however, he was a god, a hero. He was the key to survival, to escape from what lay above. Stan accepted them in his good graces, brought them the sanctuary they desired. He gave them life, food, shelter, family. He gave them all they asked from the kindness of his heart, even after they had forsaken him. Stan was a forgiving man.\n\nThe first person to try to cross him was one of the people he had employed, one of the builders who had helped create his clear wall. Terry was his name. Stan promised him entry when constructing it, Terry laughing as he asked. He’d said he’d take him up on the offer as the world came to its end. They laughed together, Stan slapping him on the back as he walked off. Terry came crawling in a few weeks later, body badly burned from the ash falling around outside. His family, the one he’d spoken of so often for the weeks he’d worked, wasn’t there. He was alone, broken, desperate. Stan opened the door and let him in, gave him shelter and food. Within a week, Terry betrayed him.\n\nIt was ignorant what he did. Naïve, stupid, illogical. Stan laughed about it later, brought his body to the others to make a point of his idiocy. He tried to sneak some food, to get an extra meal. He knew the consequences. Such stupidity, such selfishness. It was rationed, carefully curated to last as long as possible. What was worse, he had taken from Stan’s personal selection. His own items--candies, sweets, treats that were just for him. He’d stuck his greedy little hand against the glass, dug his face against the wall to try to reach through the foot-thick barrier. The alloy, which Terry himself had helped add, worked as intended. His body was impaled against the clear wall for almost a full day before Stan noticed. He laughed.\n\nThe others didn’t find it too funny, but Stan assured them it was. He told them to laugh—if they wanted sanctuary, they’d laugh. They’d find humor in the selfishness of one man. It became much funnier then, and the problem seemed to correct itself, at least at first. The wall wasn’t touched, and people enjoyed their allotted can per day. Those that complained, had the gall to call error on Stan, were punished. They were refused their meal and forced to sit in a chair opposite the wall. They’d watch their friends, family, brothers, sisters, Stan, enjoy the food. They’d watch them eat, the betrayer's hands tied down and eyes taped open, and come to understand the error of their ways. Stan gave them that, the ability to learn and move forward as a better person. There weren’t ever any two-time offenders. \n\nOne man made the same mistake as Terry, running his hand against the wall as he passed by. He told Stan he didn’t realize what he was doing, that it was an accident. His hand just so happened to scrape the plastic holding the key to their survival. He said he was confused, it was a simple accident. Stan laughed. The man's selfishness, it was obscene. He asked the children of the shelter, those younger than the age of ten, to join him in the dining quarters. He had them sit and watch as the man slowly died. Some of them cried, and when the tears welled in their eyes enough to cloud their view, he had them move closer. \n\nIt had been a few weeks since anyone had shown up at the shelter; the constant crashing from above had become an occasional pop, followed by long periods of silence. Stan hadn’t gone up to look at the wreckage, the carnage brought down upon the planet that had mocked him. He stayed in the confines of his sanctuary. The others spoke in hushed whispers about the world above, or what it once was. The later arrivals tended to be more quiet, to only speak of family and friends, not of the destruction and chaos above. When they did speak, it was only of the hostility above--leaving would surely mean death. Stan would overhear them occasionally, and he’d laugh. Sometimes he’d remind them of the ignorance of their families, of those who mocked him. He’d tell them they were gone, that they weren’t coming back, and then he’d laugh. They refused to embrace him and his knowledge, and now they were dead. \n\nStan was accepting, he was open. He allowed people entry to his sanctuary, fed them, and clothed them. If they were hurt, he’d allow them time to heal. All he asked in return was servitude. If he needed them, if he called upon them, he expected them to answer. He expected them to be ready and willing with whatever he asked. Why shouldn't they be? Stan was giving them life, giving them hope. He didn’t ask for much. He’d need the occasional help fixing something old, building something new, carrying someone, hurting someone, breaking someone—it wasn’t much. He simply needed them to be there for him. Many refused at first, and it made Stan upset. He wasn’t an angry man, he was a giving, accepting man. He had brought sanctuary to these people. If they wanted to survive with him, they needed to follow him. To listen to him. To worship him.\n\nStan didn’t want to hurt many of the people that he did, but those who spoke against him, those who tried to do him wrong, they were removed. So many refused at first, so many had to be made examples of. The first that spoke out were chained up and left to rot in public, to make true his threats and inspire his followers. Stan had given them life, hope, a future—if they wanted to continue, they needed to adhere. Punishments became more and more severe for those that questioned him, and the numbers those that did quickly plummeted. Food was revoked, clothes stripped, limbs broken, families torn apart. A punishment for one became a punishment for all eventually. Friends were chained to enemies, forced to work as one; a single can was split between two, while watching Stan gorge himself on anything he wanted; movement was restricted to specified times of the day. The more often people acted out, the more severe the punishments got. Followers began to aid in punishment, survivors torturing survivors; parents torturing children while they laughed.\n\nStan stared at Julie, Fred sitting next to her. His eyes were now taped open, hands latched to the seat next to Julie. She still looked pretty, her left hand dangling motionless over the edge of the folding chair, head propped up against the concrete wall. She was one of the first he’d welcomed in. She was pregnant when she arrived all those months ago. Helpless, alone. She gave birth in the shelter, the first to do so. Stan liked her, said she would be his bride. She refused, crying some nonsense about her husband, that he was still out there waiting for her. She was so ignorant, such a fool. Stan had given her life, given her child hope at a future, and she rejected him. Her empty, still eyes gazed at the unattainable wall of food behind Stan, a motionless child sitting silently on her lap."
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[WP] The anorexic huntsman and the fat cook.
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[
"It’s winter in the town of Valhalla, one of the few small dots of civilization resting in between the Tall Mountains and the Perilaikus Sea. There’s a blizzard raging outside against the Traveler’s Rest, the first good-sized log cabin to greet the hunters, travelers, and sometimes the hunted, that find themselves migrating north for whatever reason. The fat bartender, Joe, treats his guests fair enough since he knows he doesn’t get regulars this far out in the frozen wastes between the sea and the mountains. “No manners, no service” is carved on the wide door blocking the only entrance, along with an afternote- “And don’t even think about fightin’.” \n\nIt’s dead quiet in the Rest tonight save for the ghostly sounds of frigid wind blowing hard past wooden logs and soft, drunken snores of one drooling late-stayer. Joe’s cleaning glasses behind the bar, alternating between a towel and his crusty apron to work on the tough spots.\n\nDespite the wind and the snow and the snoring, he can still hear the crunching footsteps and the steady scraping sled tracks of what might be the closest thing to a regular he has. Joe stops cleaning. The sled stops the moment it takes for the man pulling it to kick open the sturdy plank door. The blizzard screams in for a moment and wakes up the bar’s only customer.\n\n“Got another four for you, Joe,” said a man head to toe in fur and leather. He almost had to shout to make his words heard through his clothing. \n\n“Gods! Close the door, you’re getting snow everywhere!” Joe blurted.\n\n“Sorry,” the hunter chuckled, unwrapping his thick scarf “Long walk from here to the Shoe.”\n\n“That far?” Joe asked, not even trying to hide his amazement.\n\n“I know, I know.” He wasted no time taking a seat on the barstool opposite the Rest’s owner.\n\n“Where the caribou go, eh?” Joe said, grabbing a large, thick bottle of his next-to-best whiskey from under the table.\n\n“That’s right, I follow,” the hunter replied, stretching to snatch a near empty shot glass from the end of the bar and throwing out its contents. “First pick’s yours, my friend.”\n\nJoe poured the man, still covered with the exception of his face, his first drink, and waddled around the bar to get a look at the dead animals. “Good trade for half that bottle. You brought me some good ones tonight,” he said, inspecting a hoof as he did.\n\n“Good trade?” the hunter echoed, “Not even close,” he smiled.\n\n“What was the going rate again, Burt?” The now squatting man asked. To anyone looking from Burt’s direction, he would look like a mutant watermelon with clothes.\n\n“Fifty a point. That one’s two-fifty for age.” He downed his third shot.\n\n“Discount?” Joe looks back toward the bar.\n\n“Sixty for you. This week’s a good week.”\n\nJoe sighs. “You always fucking say that,” he says, shaking his head.\n\nThe wind howls outside, and the faintest light starts to appear in the cracks in the logs of the Traveler’s Rest. With the drunk back asleep, the silence makes it seem almost as if the two awake men in the bar are the last men alive. That silence only interrupted by the occasional thump of snow or clack of Burt’s shotglass. \n\nThe fat cook and bartender sighs again and sets down the hoof. “I’m giving you two-twenty for it; why I always have to haggle up with you I’ll never know, but someone’s got to put the money back in your pocket so you don’t keel over.” \n\nBurt smiles and takes another shot.\n\n“I mean honestly,” Joe continues, walking back to the bar. The bottle’s almost done now. “How do you walk, let alone hunt? You’ve never eaten anything here for as long as I’ve known you, Burt.” A closer inspection would prove this observation true. The man’s face was utterly drained of all fat; his cheeks were paper thin. What appeared to be thick and overlapped hunting garments at first, were simply one or two sagging layers of thick clothes on the skeletal frame of a man who had not eaten well in months.\n\nThe skeleton hunter just smiles through him and takes another shot.\n\n“Why?” Joes asks, leaning on the bartop, which groaned in protest. He asks like a man afraid of the answer he may get.\n\nBurt answers him with the clack of glass on wood, and smiles through him again.\n \n“I said why!” Joe shouts, swiping the bottle from his patron. The smile is faint now, but still Joe can feel the world mocking him, like there’s some big joke he’s just not privy to. \n\nBurt set his glass down with one authoritative clack and looked Joe in his squinty, brown eyes with his shocking green. “My enemy,” he says, “Is not the caribou, nor the bear, nor any other beast. I hunt them, and they are my prey as they were meant to be.” He pauses to gesture towards the door of the traveler’s rest and the hollow sounds beyond it. “That’s my enemy,” he says to the cook, still not understanding.\n\n“The cold?”\n\nBurt nods.\n\n“So arm yourself! Alara’s sake, man. You need something; I don’t even care if it’s a poppy seed, keep that fire burning.” Joe said, tapping the table for emphasis.\n\nBurt raised a finger to this, smiling again, “And that’s the illusion. That fire does just fine on its own. I can’t run from the cold, or hide, I have to fight it head on and without mercy, and I know that any avarice I take with me out there, no matter how small, the cold will use that against me. My body might not fill my clothes, but my spirit,” he raised his thin, stick-like hands, “fills the room.\"\n\n\"And the money?\" Joe asked.\n\n\"Temptation,\" was the reply.\n\nJoe nodded his flabby face, seeming to finally understand, and then shook his head to dismiss the notion and returned, finally, to cleaning his glasses as the hunter slumps half asleep on his hands. “You’re a crazy, drunken fool, my friend,” he says after a while, not looking up from his cleaning, “But if you say it works for you, and it does, I may just have to try it.”\n\n“It’s not easy; and if you think it is, then you’re going to end up the fool, not me.”\n\n“Yeah, well,” Joe says, “I’m not good at taking other people’s words for it, so I'll just have to see.” \n\nBurt thinks the proposition over, unsmiling, rolling a shotglass between his fingers.\n\n“And Burt,” Joe adds, “I’m still paying two-twenty for the meat, so help me get it in the kitchen, why don’t ya.” \n",
"The fire hissed as the cook poked at the burning logs with a long, charred stick. \"Food should be ready soon,\" he said, looking over his shoulder at the slumped over huntsman, head resting on the table, his arms around his head. He sighed and began to stir the contents of the large, black cauldron that hung above the fire. \"You need to eat, Arsenius.\" \n\n\"I can't.\"\n\n\"I didn't say that you *should* eat, I said you *need* to.\" The cook lifted the spoon and tasted it, his slurping causing Arsenius to look up in disgust. \"You will die if you do not eat.\" \n\nThe huntsman shook his head, his stomach rumbling. \"Some things are worse than death, Cree.\" \n\nCree, fat and swift in the kitchen, was an excellent cook. He could take spoiled meat and somehow make it delicious and appetizing. He shook his head sadly and went to the makeshift table that the huntsman sat at. He plopped down across from his miserable companion, the wooden chair underneath him creaking. Arsenius had made the chairs and table from the trees that surrounded their little cabin. Cree looked at the thin man across from him, frowning. \"What will I do when you die, Arsenius?\" \n\nArsenius's voice was muffled by his arms. \"Probably eat me.\" \n\nCree guffawed, slapping the table. \"There will be nothing left to eat, brother!\" He chuckled a little more before growing serious. \"What is the food situation out there, Arsenius? \n\nArsenius straightened and slumped backward into his chair, shaking his head. \"It isn't good, Cree. I haven't found anything worthwhile for far too long.\" He nodded at the bubbling cauldron. \"I found that miserable piece of meat just outside the city.\" \n\nCree nodded and pulled a splinter of wood off the table, putting it in his mouth to chew on. \"He was alone?\" \n\n\"Yes. He was skin and bones, mostly, as you saw. I don't think there were others.\" \n\n\"Was he alive when you found him?\" \n\nArsenius avoided the gaze of the cook. \"Yes.\" \n\nCree nodded and looked at the fire, his mind drifting. Outside, the wind was beginning to pick up, and with the wind would come the black rain. It had been several months since the last of the nuclear blasts, and he didn't know if the black rain was supposed to last this long, but it was. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, the splinter of wood damp and soft now. \"We'd better close the windows.\" \n\nArsenius groaned but didn't move. \n\nCree swore and slapped the table. \"You need to *eat*, blast it! You'll starve, Arsenius--you're already weak, I don't know how you even went on the hunt this morning!\"\n\nArsenius looked up, his eyes flashing. \"It's better than being fat on humans, Cree!\" \n\nCree sighed. \"There's nothing else, Arsenius.\" \n\n\"I know.\" \n\nThe two men sat, each of them contemplating their existence, each of them exhausted and worn out. Cree stood and walked to the cauldron, stirring it. He sampled it again and nodded. \"It's ready.\"\n"
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It can be any number for the meter.
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[WP] Everyone has a meter that dictates how many people you have helped. However, if your meter reaches 1000, you instantly die.
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[
"199. It wasn't very high for an 18 year old. It was actually low by some people's standards. I thought it was pretty high for a girl who had isolated herself for a good portion of school, and if I thought about it I didn't know how the number could be that high. \n\nIt still was my number nonetheless. Still a 199. Just one more and it would be a nice even number, but one more and I would only have 800 left. \n\nYou know there was a problem with artists like me before. I'm a vocalist for an alternative band. It's not that risky looking at my number at least not yet. The band's not that well known, but we're getting some news coverage with the whole lack of artists, who are well known, and at times helping people just by making music or art. It might not have been the best career choice, but hey, it was what I wanted to do. Even if others disagreed with it.\n\nMy older sister wanted me to be a doctor. She gave me things throughout my childhood: Toy first-aid kits, ways to lessen the pain of things like stubbing my toe and getting broken up with, but you know what she gave me most? Bandages. If I hadn't been so clumsy her number probably would have skyrocketed slower. She herself became a doctor even though her number had been somewhere around 475 by my age. \n\nShe was crazy. Of course, she ended up signing a contract to work on a cure for a fatal disease that had spread through the city. The disease itself took years to kill, but it was a painful destruction from the inside. It took a few years just to make a cure for the thing, but she made it.\n\nI know what you're thinking, and no her number did not hit 1000. It hit 996. It was a close call, and hopefully you'll understand why I called her crazy. If I remember correctly she was the only person to take credit for the cure as the other researchers gave up after a few months or so. It was weird though. A doctor, who did more work at an operating table took credit for something that happened in a lab. \n\nOh, well. She was fine with my career choice in the end. She told me so, and then her number clocked in at 999. I promptly left without a goodbye in fear of the number rising just one more time. \n\nIs fear of another person's number rising weird when you don't care if your own number rises? I can't really be sure of that, getting ready to put on a show for an unknown people. Most of them won't be physically at her funeral, but a lot are listening in on my singing. I'm not really sure how many people this will ease the pain of, but it looks like most of my career will be done at a funeral if not all of it.\n\nI don't know how my sister helped people so quickly, but you know what? There might actually be some truth to her theory of me being kinder than her. The radio station contacted me, after polling their listeners, and told me that a good portion of the thousands of listeners would be listening to my live performance. Almost 200 cured people listening to repay my sister for saving their lives. The rest just out of convenience. Hopefully most of them like the station's usual pop music more than rock.\n\nI guess I'll have my answer once I'm done.",
"Everyone here dies a hero, yet I don't wanna die. I guess I'm just that selfish.\n\nIt all started before I was even born. My father was a doctor, and he saved his \"last one\" to help my mother deliver me. Doesn't get more cliché than that! \n\nI don't even know how he got away with it! He was selfish! He left us all alone. My poor mother! \nI mean... did the guy even think of us?\nEver since, many people have died helping us out. I wonder if there is a Counter in heaven, because it should be in the negatives by now.\n\nI watched my grandma die after she helped my mother get through my father's death. A couple years after, my pops went too. I was destroyed, and devoured by guilt. So was my mother.\n\nMy Pop... He was the only father I had ever known. He taught me everything there is to know about becoming a man. He taught me about love, respect, compassion, courage, justice. Can you think of a value? You name it! I probably learned it from him. He loved us so much that he constantly covered his Counter so that my mother wouldn't yell at him, or worry. \nI will never forget the morning he died. It was a Saturday, and it had been raining. May was just around the corner, and everything was blooming after the April showers. \n\nHe died right next to those roses over there, to my right. Mom's birthday was coming up, and I wanted our garden to look its best. I saved every penny I had, bought some seeds, and asked my Pop to help me plant them. He dropped dead after the last seed. \n\nI had never seen my mother so sad, but then again, I don't remember my father's death. \n\nAfter Pop died, I vowed to live just like he did. I covered my Counter, and guaranteed my mother that I would make sure our lives were perfect. I promised I would provide, and I promised her we would be happy. \n\nI didn't mean to lie. \n\nTomorrow is her birthday again. She is turning 50.\n\nShe has to be the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. I'm not saying it just because she's my mother, I swear! She just has a natural warmth embedded in her smile. She is a perpetual optimist, and a kind soul. She has healing hands, and is capable of giving hugs that make you see sunshines and rainbows.\n\nIt is true though... she won't last long. We both knew people like her rarely made it past 50. \n\nI wish I could save her the pain that I'm about to cause her. I'm only 21, and I really don't want to die. But it is my own fault. By choosing to cover my Counter, and giving in to a life of service, I knew what I was getting myself into. \n\nI still don't know what made me check my count, but I'm so glad I did. I could've wasted my \"last one\" on something stupid, yet something inside me prompted me to peek. \n\n999\n\nLoud and clear. \n\nI suddenly felt an overwhelming cloud of emotions enter my youthful body. \n\nIt hit me like a ton of bricks. \n\nThere was NO DOUBT that I was going to die on her birthday. I just had to figure out how to make my \"last one\" count. \n\nThat was the moment I suddenly understood why my father had waited till the day I was born. \n",
"I sat cross legged in a small circle in the dust, the devil to my left, and Christ to my right. I cast furitive glances at either of them. The dice clacked in my hand and I rolled. Snakeyes.\n\nThe meter on my chest ticked up two. Sweat broke out on my forehead, feeling the weight of a stupid roll.\n\nI was the worst kind of sinner. I was bad at it. I gambled and lost big to the person on my right, tick. I slept around and showed women that there was better than their abusive lifestyles. Tick. I was beginning to think I had incredible power that I could barely impact the lives of others. My life was like the worst taxi ride through New York City. The meter always ran.\n\n“How is snakeyes a good deed?” The devil reached a horny hand to retrieve the black dice, jingling them in his hand.\n\n“Easier for us to win.” He said plainly. I never pictured I would be sitting here with the cornerstone of Christianity. But here I was.\n\nEvery mindless, gluttonous thing I did, the tickers were going against me. I couldn’t say that I was a particularly bad person. I was a bit of a bully in grammar school, but at about 25 that came to bite me in the ass when I saw Cody Jenkins a full 6 feet tall and pure muscle. Tick.\n\nI ate chocolate cake in front of an anorexic girl to spite her in high school. She started eating again. Tick.\n\nMaybe I could start being nicer. Maybe that would work. \n\nThe Devil rolled two fours. I guess only I could have luck so bad that being bad was actually good.\n\nI’d met a girl. I prayed for more ticks before I went to bed.\n\nApparently, for the big guy upstairs, getting a sinner to pray is like winning the lottery. He rolled out the welcoming committee.\n\nJesus picked up the dice, looking at me soulfully as he jingled them in his hand. He wasn’t very talkative. For someone who made his life talking, you’d think he’d be more talkative. Then again, his presence seemed to speak.\n\nHe rolled the dice, showing them land with a two and then a three. Halos popped up above the dice and they flipped to two fives.\n\n“No cheating.” Growled the devil, swatting the dice.\n\nCheating. Like every time a friend and I shared answers on homework. I really was a terrible sinner.\n\n“So uh….” He said slowly. “What are we actually doing here?” \n\n“Well.” Smiled the Devil. “God answers prayers from time to time.” Jesus eyed him carefully, I guess trusting the devil was always a bad move. “So he wanted me and my friend JC here to come and talk to you about that ticker there.” He poked me in the chest with a hard claw, making my meter spin.\n\n“Ow.” I rubbed my chest.\n\n“But…what’s a meeting with my favorite brother without some fun?” He grinned cloyingly at Christ. A blush of red was creeping up under Jesus’ tunic. “So. We gamble.” He clapped his hands, nudging the dice towards the savior. “Roll again.”\n\nJesus picked up the dice, muttering in some language I couldn’t understand. The dice clacked and rolled from his fingers. His shoulders slumped. \n\nThe devil pumped his fist and whistled, stamping a hoof on the ground before collecting the black dice again. When he threw them down, they turned into a pizza. He grabbed a slice and reclined back. \n\n“Have a slice.” He offered, cheese stringing from his mouth to the pizza. “Man’s greatest temptation. You know, JC, if they put Pizza in the garden, Adam and Eve would have sinned a lot earlier.”\n\nJesus grabbed a piece of pizza and bit the corner, chewing it pensively. “You’re right.” He said softly. \n\nI took a slice, watching the pepperoni float on the bed of greasy cheese. “So…we weren’t just playing for pizza.”\n\n“No.” The devil laughed. “We were playing for you!” he threw his arms up in excitement. \n\n“What do you mean, for me?” I choked, the pizza suddenly became hot, it seared the roof of my mouth. I yelped and dropped the pizza. It fell to the clouds below, and then started to fall to the earth. I saw myself, lying in bed, my meter visible on my chest. \n\nI was already gone.\n\n",
"She was fourteen.\n\nFourteen years old. According to her parents, she had a wonderful life up to this point. She was smart, pretty, had dozens of friends at school... but she was also sick.\n\nVery very sick.\n\nShe had been for her whole life. They had named the disease for her too, as politicians and teary-eyed scientists occasionally do.\n\nThe only good thing was that she had never been in pain. Her disease would destroy her from the inside out, but she would never even feel the slightest twinge of hurt.\n\nThat was part of it: the beauty and evil of the disease. She would never make it past twenty five, maybe not even twenty, but she would never feel pain. Not from a stubbed toe, not from a flu shot, not from a headache, nor from the viral agents currently working to tear everything inside her body to pieces.\n\nShe would feel no pain.\n\nThe process would, as it did for all of those affected, be long, gradual, and perfectly painless. At some point in the next decade she would have a bout of dizziness, not severe dizziness but almost an alcohol induced buzz, it would last three days, and they would pass silently from the world.\n\nBut this girl was taking the other route.\n\nHer number stood at 526. A very high number for a barely teenaged girl. But she had earned it, helping people with her story, with hope, and with a smile that could melt all but the coldest of hearts.\n\nMy number stands at 429. As a doctor, my number climbs high fairly quickly. In another year or two I'll be at the semi-mandatory retirement age, full benefits and pension for the rest of my life. At only age 27. If you are willing to retire, anyway. Not everyone does.\n\nBut this is the moment of truth.\n\nMyself and two dozen of my colleagues are sitting around the chilly conference room. Administration is talking about the procedure for this girl. It will be quick, it will be easy, and it will be painless for her.\n\nSimply taking a sample of her cells, putting them through a few tests and examinations before turning them into what could be a cure. Something that could prolong the patients' lives by anywhere from twenty years to sixty.\n\nIt will help thousands.\n\nThe girl will die, one way or another. Either in the next ten years from the disease that bears her name, or in the next ten hours from the surgery which may cure that very disease for everyone but her.\n\nShe will feel no pain. She can't, because of that disease. When her number hits a thousand and every atom of her existence begins to tear apart from one another. When her blood begins to boil and coagulate at once, her skin tears down to it's basic elements, when her smile turns from beautiful, to macabre, to skeletal, to horrifying...\n\nShe'll feel none of it.\n\nBut we will. The doctor who takes that single syringe full of blood, who puts that single syringe into culture, who finally creates that miracle cure...\n\nI look around the room, seeing the eyes of everyone look towards the floor. Nobody wants to look up, to make eye contact, less it be construed as a volunteer. The administration can't order us to suicide, but we are expected to nonetheless.\n\nEnding two lives to save hundreds, thousands. The decision is easy on paper, the decision is harder when it is your life.",
"\"We want to include your name when we publish\"\n\nThese words haunted me. My meter read a paltry 13, a byproduct of a lifetime of research in the lab. I was so looking forward to the long years ahead of me. And now it was a distant memory. One experiment. One little compound. One cure. They wanted me to share credit. As soon as the cure was made readily available I knew what would happen. ",
"The man inched closer and closer to me, backing me into the dead-end alley. A deliberate, twisted smile spread over his face, exposing the five yellow and black teeth he had remaining as he reached for the shining blade inside his dirty, ratted coat. I felt sick to my stomach when I finally noticed that the meter suspended above his greasy hair read 0. \n\n\"Help!,\" I screamed, \"please, please somebody, help me!\" The pungent smells of garlic and lack of hygeine filled my nostrils as my death came closer. \n\nHe pinned me to the wall. It was an easy task for a man as large as him and my weak 105 pounds didn't stand a chance fighting him off. I screamed and screamed. Looking over my attacker's shoulder, I had a final burst of hope when I saw the man outside the alley look my way. We made eye contact and my heart sank as I read his meter. 999. \n\nMy would-be savior turned away just as the knife sank into my neck.",
"999.\n\nThe number glared at me as my best friend wept over the phone. A bad break up, and he needed me. Needed my comfort, and my help. With a sigh, I shook my head.\n\n\"It's going to be ok... I still love you. I'll always love you. You just have to-\"",
"Almost touching the palm of my hand the numbers could be mistaken for a scar, but for every selfless act I committed the digits would change. I casually look at my wrist. \n\n45.\n\nI liked that number, it was the same as my age. This year meant something, it was important.\n\nMy parents died just before my 18th birthday. My mom first, when she changed shifts at work to come see me win my school's debate competition. One thousand and you die. No second chances. You drop dead. \n\nShe hasn't realised how close to a thousand her number had been as she rushed to see me. Or maybe she had. She sat in the center of the front row, beaming with pride. When my name was announced the audience erupted into applause. My mom stood, smiling at me. She collapsed on her first clap. Her body slumped to the ground. \n\nMy mom was a selfless woman. She was a stupid woman.\n\nMy dad followed not long after. I had been an only child and something of a mommy's boy. I was inconsolable after she died. He did his best to help me through the grieving process. He took me fishing and let me stay up late and listened to me when I needed to talk. At night as I tried to sleep I would hear him, through the walls, sobbing by himself in his empty double bed. I never came to console him. Too risky. I had a lifetime worth of good to do, couldn't waste it on this one man.\n\nOne day, a few months after my mom's funeral, I woke up to an empty house. There was a note on the kitchen table. \n\n\"I don't have long left and I don't want to be around you when it happens. I'm leaving it all to you. I love you, son. - Dad\" \n\nHe died in his accountant's office, moments after signing his will. Stupid man. His number probably went up with that pathetic note alone. \n\nI lived with my aunt after that. She didn't want me but the state made her take me. She was a bitch. I succeeded in spite of her. I still call her annually to let her know how well I'm doing. My own number hasn't increased for years now. \n\nI look up from my wrist on hearing a knock on the door. A balding man with a weasel-like face enters and makes his way across to my desk. \n\n\"I'm sorry to intrude, sir. But we need an answer on this education bill.\" he says. \n\n\"Well of course we're going to back it. We have to!\" I smile, \"It's for the children.\"\n\nI watch the vice-president leave the office and glance back down at my wrist. \n\n45.\n\nIt would be a good year.",
"Here's my own.\n\nI had already helped 787 people. It didn't seem like much. It was just a homework hint there, or picking up a piece of paper. But I was too young. So now I was standing there, in front of the operating table. Everyone told me that a doctor profession was bad for your health, but it didn't matter. I took the scalpel and started cutting. But my number would tick to 788 after this patient. I couldn't let that happen. So, I jostled my hand a little too hard, stabbing the intestines. But I couldn't let this happen. No, I wasn't a murderer. I would never be a murderer. I stopped the bleeding and started working on the surgery. The meter ticked to 788."
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[WP] You have a super power and already mastered it when you are young. Why are you still unheard of?
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"I registered with the League of Superheroes near a decade ago. I had mastered my ability two decades previous.\n\n*Inconspicuous Man.*\n\nBoy was I excited when I ordered my nameplate. Never came though. Gave them a call, and apparently it was never ordered. Not sure why. The complain wasn't logged either. I had to make one myself eventually.\n\nThe past ten years have been interesting. I teamed up - well okay, tagged along with - many different heroes. The likes of WunderKid, KinderEgg Man, DonkeyPuncher, and Burrito Burster. It's weird though, they always seem to get the credit.\n\nTake for example three weeks ago. We all went into the lair of Captain Killyouwihtoutinterogation. I snuck in, and would you believe it, when I asked, he told me his plan. Didn't really seem to care I was there. I then beat up all his henchmen... IN FRONT OF HIM. I eventually subdued him when the rest finally burst in.\n\nThe news, of course, ended up covering those guys...they always said DonkeyPuncher was the good looking guy. Whatever, it kind of makes me angry since I don't get any of the sponsorships, but that's one less baddie on the street I guess.\n\nThat's just me, your everyday ordinary Inconspicuous Man.",
"It started when I was six. I was in the car with my father and his new wife, driving to Disneyland. I had wanted to go to Disney World, but it was too far and too expensive. I, of course, at the time didn't understand that money makes the world go round, so I was sulking in the backseat. Every so often, my father would glance up in the rearview, look at me, and snap. The first few times, it was fine. I may have even giggled. But he just kept going. So finally, after the 30th or so time, I snapped back. It took my mind a bit to register where I was, but once I did, I was ecstatic. I didn't care how or when or why, I just cared that I was finally at Disney World. Only, my father wasn't here. Nor my stepmom. Nor my real mom. It was just me. I started bawling like a little baby and eventually a woman in a Snow White costume picked me up and carried me to the security office. The security officers started asking me all sorts of questions, but I was still inconsolable. Finally, one of the security guards snapped at me. And I snapped right back. And boom, there I was, back in the car with my father and step mom. My father hadn't even noticed I was missing.\n\nNow, I'm 22 with nothing but $50, a flask, and a pocket translator on my person. I've been all over the world, London, France, Bombay, Athens, you name it, I've seen it. I suppose I could use my powers for good. You know, don a gimp suit, spray paint a big green \"S\" on the chest, save people from burning buildings, stop bank robbers and such. I could also not. You know, because not getting shot or burned to a crisp or asphyxiated by all that leather is also an option. Self-preservation, people. Self-preservation.",
"It started when I was very young. If I thought hard enough, I could make *things happen*. Sometimes impossible things, things the mind had trouble comprehending. I don't know why I never told anyone, maybe it was all those spider man comics and tv shows, with Uncle Ben's sage wisdom *With great power*. \n\nWho knows? It doesn't matter, Its not like I could go public, and wear some spandex or something. I still get hurt, if I'm not focusing. Many scraped knees and stubbed toes can attest to that. But if I focus, I could hold my hand over an open flame, I could fall off a roof and be just fine. \n\nAnd what if I did go public? Some government agency would find a way to control me... or maybe thats just my paranoia speaking. I'm sure I could take them, but I don't want to cause any suffering. If I couldn't take them, I get chained up and likely used as a super weapon, fighting war after war after war. If I did take them on and win, a bunch of people who know they can't control me will make me some sort of demon in the public's eye.\n\nNo. Thats not the way to go. I don't want to kill. I don't want to hide.\n\nSo for now, I'll be a guardian angel. Walking the streets, looking like your every day guy. \n\n*Making things happen.*\n\n*wonderful things.*\n\n*Impossible things.*",
"Being a telekinetic has its downsides.\n\nOh, who am I kidding? Being a telekinetic has no downsides.\n\nAt first, it was only small things, like getting a ball to roll a certain way, or making a die land on a different side. But, as things kept going, I began to achieve more control, more power. I don't even have to be there now, I can just move something I see on TV, for example, which has lead to some great moments, at least for myself.\n\nI never wanted to be known for it, though. I'd much rather sit back and watch things unfold, hear the people whisper about the strange happenings. Hear them ponder the causes... or attribute God.\n\nThat's my favorite. If there is a god, I understand how he works, why he just sits back and watches, doesn't let himself be known.\n\nBut until he decides to do so, I'll kindly step in for him."
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[WP]I'd rather forget how I ended up hiding in this port-a-potty.
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"God this smell is gross. Porta potties are the worst smelling places in the world. A tiny cubicle holding all that waste, inches from your feet and only a fraction more from your nose. But God damn does it smell like victory. I wonder how long I have before they find me? I wish I could forget why I am hiding in here before they find me.\n\nIt's too easy for the scanners to read your emotions. Too easy for the guards at the desk to wisk you away and lock you up for any one of a myriad of reasons. It's how they control the leaks and the secret keepers. This new branch of the government does not allow anyone to stray away from protocol. How else could they keep it a secret for as long as they have? This secret was beyond anything the world has ever seen. You kept your nose to the grindstone and all evidence securely locked away. So many checks and balances to ensure the secret never leaks. \n\nThe people deserve to know. They need to know. This isn't something that should be done or decided by the elites. This was a decision for the whole world. Its impact will change earth forever. The upside for the government is that if anyone actually talks they just say you cracked and locked you in the loony bin. Its easy to do when someone starts spouting off about aliens. Who would really believe anyone without actual evidence? Ever since 'it' happened I have been trying to get the word out. For years I have byded my time looking for a way. Two days ago it finally came. A pipe broke in the recent cold snap. Flooded out an entire documents room. Lots of damage, big job, need an outside company to repair it. \n\nContractors were called in and I waited. I dumped all of the most amazing evidence on an internal usb stick. The problem is you need to sign them out. They know who has one. You need to return it at the end of the day, no exceptions. Well my stick is rattling around in a contractors lunch box. A lucky throw from a second story window. I still can't believe I actually got it in. Since the contractors have their own entrance and are barred from entering the facility anywhere else they don't get checked at the end of the day, no searches. They will notice I haven't signed out for the day and that the usb stick is still not returned. They will come to find me. I won't be there. I am hiding here, in the contractors bathroom. I can't run, you leave the perimeter and they know. I need to give my message in a bottle the time it needs to reach the masses. They will soon know that in the rings of Saturn we found a vessel. To all observations it seemed powered and functioning. No governments claimed it. The markings and make of the vessel are of non human origins. We have sent a ship to investigate. In the mean time we tried to signal it, every way we knew how. The people need to know, when we signaled... it answered ",
"Oh shit she's here. I can't let her see me like this. I'll hide in this port-a-potty. I sprint to the potty and open the door without the slightest shred of consideration that there might be a person relieving him or herself in it. I shut the door with such force that Zeus himself would question if I was a forgotten offspring of his. \n\nGosh darn it, Sasha's here. At the damn Renaissance faire. I thought she was too cool for this kind of shit. Shouldn't she be raving somewhere on a damn Saturday night? Fuck. The girl of my dreams is here and I'm dressed like a motherfucking jester. The court idiot. Don't get me wrong, I love my role. But I highly fucking doubt Sasha would want to see me like this. \n\nFuck. I have to get out of here. I have to man up. If she was really into me, she would accept my job here. Ok. I'll step out. Deep breath first. Inhale...Fuck. I start to gag because I just started a deep breathing exercise in the fucking port-a-potty. Fuck it. I look at my watch, \"8:15 pm\". I guess I can wait 30 minutes in here until my shift is over...",
"\"c'mon man, we should like, mind meld while we're stuck here\" said Smokey.\n\n\"mind meld?\" asked Martin.\n\n\"yeah y'know, share stories, so we can become better pals\" \n\n\"look I just wanna wait this out\"\n\n\"wait, wait what out, man?\"\n\n\"Urgh, chad and his friends have crashed the party, saw me getting off with Sunday\", Martin said, barley believing his own words when he said that.\n\n\"dude, Sunday Malla?\"\n\n\"yup\" \n\n\"DUDE!, that's an accomplishment, good work\"\n\nMartin felt himself blushing, he was very proud of himself, especially since he had liked her ever since they were little, \"so why are you in here?\" \n\n\"nah you don't need to know\"\n\n\"awh, please, I told you mine, like you said we're gonna be here a while\"\n\n\"I could tell my story\" a new voice said, as Martin and Smokey flinched back, trying to locate the voice.\n\n\"I'm down here\", they looked down at the space between the wall of the port-a-potty and the toilet.\n\n\"Howard?, Howard Hull?\" martin asked.\n\n\"yeah\" Howard responded\n\n\"Double H?, dude its been years!\" Smokey explained.\n\n\"yeah, good to see you haven't changed smokey, good look with the trial by the way\"\n\n\"oh, yeah thanks\" smokey responded\n\n\"trial?\" Martin asked.\n\n\"yeah, that's the reason I'm here\" smokey answered.\n\n\"ah okay....wait what?\" \n\nthe door broke open, off its hinges, it was the police, revealing the light into the port-a-potty, revealing smokey with blood covered mouth. "
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For a (slightly) harder challenge, use no proper nouns.
EDIT: I see my problem with the title. It should be These sentences all have to be* compound sentences.
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[FF] Break my heart in three sentences. These sentences all have to compound sentences.
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"Since the day she walked into the cathedral in the white elegant gown, we both knew that it was convenience, and not fate, that has brought us together. We stayed together for the next few decades, cynically convinced that Cupid had forsaken us both. Yet towards the end I realized that stupid kid had indeed worked his magic after all, on me at least, for a bit of me died that day I sent her to her new abode six feet under.",
"\"Dad, you promised if this happened that you would help, not try and hurt me!\"\n\n\"I am helping you, by making sure this stays a secret between the two of us.\" He made sure that his daughter was tied down, and then he took the coat hanger out of the alcohol.",
"That long, damned winter had finally broken and spring dangled promises of life and love in front of me. This was the year, I could feel it, I would turn things around, stop smoking, sober up. I whistled to myself as I grabbed a beer from the fridge, using the edge of my Mark Grace jersey to twist the top as I sat down in front of the TV, exclaiming \"Alright, Cubbies, let's win one!\"\n\n\n--\n\nIt ain't spring till the bullpen makes me scream profanity at the radio."
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I will read and comment on all responses! Make em good!
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[WP] Sitting outside of a cafe, you hear two people arguing about a ring, but it doesn't seem to be a wedding ring...
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"When my parents said we were going on a family vacation to Italy, I was as interested as any other 16 year old. It had been boring museums followed by boring churches for a week and I was tired of the monatony. It took some begging and bargaining but I had convinced them to let me have some free time as long as I stayed near the hotel. \n\nI was people watching at the cafe on the ground floor when I heard some ass hole yelling. \n\n\"NO! I don't care if you like it or not, that's the design she chose.\" The man raised his voice and then nervously glanced towards the public square. \n\n\"But it doesn't make sense to ship the supplies through Monaco, when the whole thing is being made in Zurich.\" The women replied, clearly not as interested in the Sunday crowds as her cohort seemed to be. \n\n\"You're not being paid to make sense... you're being paid to make the ring.\" \n\n\"But if we ship the supplies through Monaco it's going to add millions to the price. You hired me to ensure the budget was kept, and the ring concealed. You're not only exposing the product but you're exposing me.\" She hissed. \n\nMy legs began to tremble with excitment and fear. This is, by far, the strangest and coolest thing I had seen on this trip. Who knew Rome, the city of catholics and ugly paintings, would offer such a rush. I felt like I was witnessing a real life Dan Brown novel. \n\nAs the man and women continued their hushed conversation I glanced around to see if anyone else had heard what I had, then I saw him. He was leaning on a pillar across the square but looked like he could tear the plaster apart with his hands if he wanted to. His eyes were filled with rage and what looked like sadness, and he was staring directly at them. \n\n\"She wants everything operational by the 30th. What remains of the previous ring is already being held in Zurich, waiting for your approval.\" \n\nIt was like watching a tennis match as my eyes darted between the man across the square and the couple at the table 20 feet in front of me. The man seemed to be reaching for something and I could feel the urine in my body working it's way towards escape as I saw the glint of silver hit the sun. I was struck completely motionless as I watched him lift it to his ear. \n\nThe piss washed down my leg the moment a phone chirped at the table of the couple. \n\n\"Is it her? Let me speak to her, I need to get this sorted before...\" She trailed off as she saw the look in the mans eyes. \n\n\"It's him\" He said as he answered the call. \n\nTears were welling in my eyes and I thought the couple had to of noticed me by now but they were too preoccupied with whatever the man was saying on the phone. In stunned shock I looked across the square at the man but he was gone. As my eyes scanned the crowd and my brain said \"Run for your life!\" I overheard the couple one last time. \n\n\"Good Luck\" The man said as he disconnected the call. \n\n\"What did he say?\" The women seethed. \n\n\"Some crock of shit about having a particular set of skills and that if we don't give her back he is going to find me... and kill me.\" \n\n\n\n",
"I looked to my left. One of the guys, who, if it hadn't been for his goofy hat, I might have mistaken for a bum judging by his clothes, looked like he must've been around 100 and carried an ornate walking stick. The other guy looked a lot younger and was markedly short.\n\n\"Get rid of that ring,\" the old man said.\n\nThe short guy was drinking tea. He put his cup down. \"Why?\" he asked.\n\n\"I fear you hold that ring in too much esteem.\"\n\n\"It's a wonderful ring,\" retorted the short guy. \"I think you're making a mountain out of a molehill.\"\n\nThe old dude sighed. \"This is how it always starts—innocently enough, but before you know it, you will find your mind poisoned by the love of it.\"\n\nThe other guy sat up. \"I'll have you know, it is just one ring, a knick-knack. You know, ever since you volunteered me to go on that little adventure, I've found I rather like collecting the odd thing here and there.\"\n\n\"This isn't just another peculiar trinket.\" The old guy stood up and grabbed his walking stick. \"You do not know the danger you deal with,\" he said, trudging off.\n\nThe short guy looked after him, eating a bit of his pastry. \"It is precious to me,\" he replied, rather softly. I'm not sure if the old guy heard him.",
"It started like any other Saturday. I was sitting at my normal table outside of my favorite cafe, The Hole. Weird name, I know. I've learned not to question it. I read the morning newspaper as I waited for my old friend Jenny to bring my usual to the table. She's the one who introduced me to this place.\n\nI picked up the morning paper and looked through for something interesting. The first thing that caught my eye was a \"Wanted\" notice, like something from the old West or the post office.\n\n\"Wanted in connection with theft of ancient ring: Man known as Fred and associates known only as G Gray and the Fellowship. Thought to be a dangerous gang. Ring has ancient writing on it. Unknown substance may cause hallucinations by wearer. Be careful in handling. If found, contact Gill U. Miller at (303) xxx-xxxx. Reward will be discussed with S and S Associates located at 123 Two Towers Boulevard.\"\n\nAs I was chuckling over this ad, a rowdy group sat at one of the other outdoor tables, pulling practically all the chairs from the surrounding tables over to that one. There were three short men with curly hair who ordered the biggest possible breakfasts. There was a quiet, taller man with wavy, dark brown hair who was talking with an old man with a long, gray beard and long, gray hair. There was a man with long blonde hair and a skateboard (weirdly enough, it was painted to look like a shield) arguing with a short man with a messy beard and long hair that was starting to turn into dreads. There was one other man with shoulder length light brown hair, sitting quietly as if thinking about something important.\n\nI couldn't help eavesdropping. One of the curly haired ones whispered (not very quietly) to the old man. \n\n\"G Gray,\" he said, catching my attention. \"What are we going to do about the ring? I know you want me to destroy it, but I really don't want to. Can't I keep it? It's almost... precious to me.\"\n\n\"No, Fred. It must be destroyed. The ring is dangerous.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"No. No arguments. It must be destroyed.\"\n\nI realized that these must be the people from the Wanted ad. I started dialing the number listed when something the old man said to the one he'd been arguing with, who was now sulking, made me hesitate.\n\n\"It could destroy the whole earth you know.\"\n\nThough I thought I had been discreet, the old man suddenly turned to face me and he stared at my for a few seconds. \n\n\"Young lady, were you eavesdropping?\"\n\n\"N-no. I swear. I wasn't... wasn't... I was just... I was waiting for my food and... and... I swear I didn't hear anything,\" I said. \"Just something about destroying the world,\" I mumbled as an afterthought.\n\n\"Well, I suppose we can't have you spreading that around. You'll have to join us or face some, er, consequences. What do you say? Join G Gray's gang or-\"\n\n\"Okay I'll join you guys,\" I said, absolutely terrified of this old man and his giant staff. For all I knew, he'd have used that to beat me to death if I said no.\n\n\"Alright. We're going on an important mission. Be ready to leave in-\" He checked his watch. \"Fifty seven minutes. Don't be late.\" \n\nFifty seven minutes later I was back at the cafe. He wasn't there for another three minutes but, as I learned, G Gray always arrives precisely when he means to. \n\nThat's the story of how one overheard conversation at a cafe led me, Samantha G, to join a gang led by a crazy old man and made up of mostly short hairy men and a few taller okayi'lladmitsortofattrattractive ones. At least he didn't try to turn me into anything... unnatural.",
"“Look at the shine on this sucker!”\n\n“Yeah, most jewelery is shiny.”\n\n“Shut up man, I don't need your sass.”\n\n“Come on, you gotta give it back. We can leave it here. At the register.”\n\n“This is the break we deserve! Lord knows we need it.”\n\n“That belongs to someone else though, it's not ours to have.”\n\n“Well in 30 minutes it won't be ours. The proud owner will be that guy who runs the pawn shop over on 5th and King”\n\n“You're full of shit.”\n\n“And you're a dumb sack of shit.”\n\nThey were silent for a moment. Both looking out at the street, never at each other.\n\n“Sometimes, I wonder why I even speak to you.”\n\n“Then don't, I don't care, means I don't gotta split the profit from this beauty.”\n\n“Seriously? You can't be serious.”\n\n“Why not! Finders keepers! If someone was dumb enough to drop something like this, they probably didn't deserve it in the first place.”\n\n“Man, I don't know what to say. It's just not right.”\n\n“Yeah. Right.”\n\nSilence again.\n\n“Alright, well I'm gonna head out then.”\n\n“That's it? You're just gonna walk away from this?”\n\n“Yeah. Do what you want, I'll see you later I guess.”\n\n“You need the cash too, don't be like this.”\n\nOne stood up, payed, and left. The other sat for awhile, then did the same. As the other walked out the door, he looked to his left and saw a small store. The front window displayed colorful, shiny rings. A sign announced\n\n“SALE! 50% OFF ALL SILVER JEWELRY!”\n\n---\n\nBest I got in 30 minutes. Great prompt though!",
"\"Damn it, Milton,\" screeched a voice, \"I can't even believe this. You right now, shit man.\"\n\n\"What are you bitching about?\" hissed the other voice, presumably Milton, \"I saw it first.\"\n\n\"You saw it first?\" the first asked, \"well paint me black and call me an Eagle, you're as dumb as you are blind.\"\n\nJackie looked up from her morning paper. She was sitting inside the small Port Townsend diner she frequented on Mondays, a cup of coffee to her left, a scone to her right, egg-white omelet directly below her newspaper.\n\n\"No, up yours!\" one of the two shouted.\n\nShe checked her fingers just to be safe: wedding ring still there, grandma's heirloom ring still there. She pulled her pantleg up just a little bit, her anklet was still there as well.\n\nAt least it wasn't her ring they were fighting over. Although why would two grown men be shouting at each other over some dropped ring? Jackie shook her head, maybe they weren't adults. Probably some stupid kids, looking to pawn it somewhere.\n\n\"Fuck you, Andy!\"\n\n\"You wanna' go? You wanna' go, punk-ass white boy?\"\n\n\"White boy?\" squealed Milton, \"You're whiter than I'd ever hope to be. Next to you, I might as well be a crow!\"\n\nThey have some weird analogies too, Jackie thought to herself. Hopefully they shut their mouths soon, she couldn't even finish the paper. She'd read the same page four times already.\n\nA yelp came from outside, followed by mixed cursing and some shifting of chairs. A plate crashed to the ground, probably shattering into a hundred pieces that someone else would have to clean up.\n\n\"What the Hell?\" she said, standing up.\n\nShe pushed out the front door, turned towards where she thought the noise was coming from. Without looking, she growled an angry, \"what is your problem?\"\n\nTwo gulls looked at her oddly, one cocking its head to the side as if confused by her sudden presence. Neither one of them moved.\n\nJackie looked back and forth.\n\n\"Bitch is cray,\" said one of the gulls, clear as day.\n\n\"Bitch is indeed cray,\" said the other gull, surreptitiously picking up the onion ring they had presumably been fighting over.\n\n\"I am not cray!\" she screamed.\n\nThe gulls looked at each other briefly, then took off without another word.\n\nJackie let out another bewildered cry, \"I am not cray! I'm not... I'm...\" He looked back towards the table, \"Fuck.\"",
"\"The argument got more and more heated, and as it did, I couldn't help but stop typing and start to listen. They weren't speaking in a hushed tone, most likely because they assumed no one in Italy would understand their English. \n\n\"It's bloody floating through space right now! Three trillion dollars worth of US military equipment is floating closer and closer to the sun, and we have no way to stop it. Get me a way to stop it, or you'll be out of a job. But that won't be your biggest problem. No, I think you'll find the fact that you won't ever be needing a job again slightly more irritating. Now tell me there is a solution.\"\n\nThe younger man sitting across from him looked up at him meekly, and mumbled, \"Well it's not my fault you wanted it to be operational so quickly.\" \"What did you say doctor?\" Yelled the first man, whom I had ascertained was most likely a director of some government branch, based on his clothes, and the three bodyguards I could make out watching him from different areas in the plaza. \n\n\"Nothing,\" started the doctor. \"There is one way to stop the ring in its tracks...but no one on board would survive it.\" The government guy looked the doctor in the eye, and without the tiniest bit of compassion in his voice, he uttered two words that changed the lives of hundreds of people forever. \"Do it.\" \n\nAnd that, ladies and gentlemen, is the true story behind how the big ring you see up there in the sky is filled with corpses. It's not because there was a gas leak. It's because this man,\" I waved my newspaper, showing his picture on the front page, \"chose to kill them.\""
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...I'm curious to see where a larger audience takes it.
In a crucial job interview, an applicant makes a choice that will either get him the job or get him kicked out, and he has no idea which.
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[WP] OP didn't respond to this one in a PM thread, so...
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"Charles rolled in, nervous as ever. He knew that it all hinged on this one job, if he didn't succeed, all would be lost.\n\n\"So, Mr...\"\n\n\"Uh, please, call me Charles. I do ever prefer some amount of informality. I believe it encourages openness and approach-ability. This is crucial for a dean at a uh, boarding school... Sorry.\" Charles' sweaty palms wrung together and a bead of sweat became visible to the interviewer, whose schlubby body squeaked made uncomfortable friction noises as he slowly leaned back in his leather chair.\n\nThe doldrums of the headmasters elongated speech patterns continued, and each dragged out syllable violently vibrated his saggy aged double-chin. \n\n\"Chaaaarles. Mmm. Right... ... ... ... What do you think you can provide for the boys and girls at the Massachusetts Academy that I was un-aaaableeee to hhhmmmm?\"\n\n\nCharles noticed he was focusing far too much on the mans chins, so he over-corrected by making unwavering and inadvertently uncomfortable eye contact.\n\n\"Well, I- I believe I can provide a great environment for learning, and coming into ones own...\" Charles stared at the Headmaster. Somehow, Charles was boring him! The man's eyes were even closed at this point, Charles was half-afraid he had droned the poor aging man into a nap. \n\nCharles promised himself he wouldn't use his powers for this purpose, that he hadn't perfected them yet, but he understood the gravity of this situation. He brought his hand up to his temple, pretending to scratch it. but verily, Charles began exploring this mans mind.\n\n\"And of course there is my love for Opera. I will make it mandatory for each student to listen to for at least 30 minutes a day.\"\n\nThe man was startled awake and his diction quickened as he leaned forward in his chair. \"Now here's a boy with some class and dignity! I always said that opera was the key to higher learning but these kids just rejected and rejected and rejected it. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing, and I think you're just the replacement we've been looking for! When can you start, Profess.. Or should I say, Dean Xavier?\"\n\nCharles sat back in his wheel chair, and gained a slight smile.\n\n\"Well, I'd definitely like to start before you accept new applicants for next term. I'd like to have a strong over-sight in the process of selecting the new students here.\" Professor Xavier steepled his hands and rested his big, bald telepathic mutant head on them... He already had a couple of new students in mind."
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[WP] A riot policeman and a rioter are hiding out during a moment of calm in the riots. Thanks to stray bullets outside, neither can leave safely.
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"*Down with the Government!*\n\n*Down with the Government!*\n\nThe chants were loud, but were also tame in comparison to the events that occurred. In the middle of the Summer Square, two men were hiding on opposite sides of a large statue obscured by trees and bushes. The man on the left was draped in casual clothes, while holding a protest sign in his right hand. The man on the right, however, was geared in blue, having several anti-riot weaponry and tools hiding in his belt and various pockets.\n\nThe shouts from the outside were accompanied by the whizzing of stray bullets, far yet visibly from both men. Both of them knew that both sides were firing at each other, but it did not evolve into a full-on firefight. From their positions, they could easily take pot-shots at either side without fear of being fired back.\n\nIn that blissful moment, both men sighed in unison.\n\nHowever, in that moment, they both realized they were not alone. Not taking any chances, the policeman took the initiative, and with swift steps, immediately aiming his standard handgun towards the figure.\n\nThe rioter had little to no time to react to this aggression. The moment he heard the steps, he tried to dash off further into the bush, but was stopped both by a stray bullet and the policeman in front of him. A second passed until a clicking sound broke the silence.\n\nThe barrel was aimed towards the young rioter. Like a saving grace, though, a stray bullet nearly hit the policeman's head if he didn't dodge, giving the rioter enough time to ready his own handgun, similar to the policeman's, except with an oddly patterned red coat over the handle.\n\nBoth of them were locked in a stalemate. Due to the tense pressure, neither of them wanted to shoot without warning in fear of mutually assured destruction. The policeman's hand was steady, but the rioter's hand was shaking. The distance between them was close enough that this nervousness would not even be a factor in whether or not the policeman was shot dead.\n\nSeveral minutes passed in this stalemate. The area was completely silent, save for the occasional bullet or two. As time went on, the rioter's arm steadied slowly. They could see that in each other's eyes, there was a mutual understanding on how they would fight for what they stood for - what they believed in. While their motives may be different, their passion for their beliefs were one and the same.\n\nOn that day, at that time, two bullets were fired from that spot at the same time.\n\nBut only one body fell.",
"He had gotten seperated from his fellow policemen. And then the bullets started, continuing for what seemed to be forever. Probably the rioters, he had thought embittered later. Before that, his fear had been being ripped apart by the crowd as he had been seperated, after that his fear was getting killed by bullets. He just ran, in blind panic. He just ran, not knowing where he would end up. Finally, he stopped.\n\nHe looked around and dropped his shield and baton. In an abandoned building. He just sat down, leaning against the wall and staring in front of him. Serenity, calm, he thought, but he suddenly realized he wasn't alone and someone else was looking at him. A woman. She wore a balaclava and stared at him with a hostile gaze. Brown hair.\n\nHe felt rage at the sight of her. She and her companions had thrown molotov cocktails at them all day. He had seen many buddies nearly burn to death. He had seen them carried off to the hospitals, screaming on the ground. His fists trembled and the thought of enclosing his hands around her neck and choking the life from her seemed very seducing. But no, he calmed himself, furiously breathing through his nose while making a fist as hard as he could. Anger management.. he had to think of what his mother had once told him. Count to ten, breath deeply in and out. He couldn't just kill someone.\n\nFinally, he calmed himself once more and closed his eyes, gesturing for her to sit besides him. To his surprise, she did. He simply stared at the wall. It had been a tired long shift. He had been in formation for fourteen hours, from the deep night till the afternoon and beyond.\n\n''I.. would appreciate it... if you didn't throw molotov cocktails at me or my colleagues..'' he finally said, struggling to remain calm as he spoke. ''We're not the ones firing the bullets.'' he continued. The woman just looked at him as if he was mad and scoffed. ''You are.'' she told him in a low voice, after which she coughed. Nothing more was spoken. They just sat there, staring at the empty space in front of them.\n\nFinally, she stood up and gazed for the last time at him. She extended her hand, but for what, he did not know. Finally it dawned upon him and he stood up, grabbing her hand and shaking it, though he did not know why. She left. \n\nHe waited for five more minutes and then grabbed his shield and baton, leaving. Once more unto the breach, once more into battle. Huzzah.\n\n"
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[WP] A lunch with Satan
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"Kirsty took another sip of water from the half-empty glass and looked towards the door for the 27th time that evening. She clenched he jaw tightly and her heart hammered against her rib cage. She told herself that this would be the last time, she'd had too many bad experiences and if this didn't work out she'd find some other way to meet people. \n\n\nHe was ten minutes late, and it didn't help that she'd been early, as usual, making his lack of punctuality seem all the more irritating. She was just about to leave when the restaurant door opened and a tall man entered hurriedly, shaking droplets of water off his umbrella and hanging his sodden overcoat on the rack. \n\n\nThe only waiter on duty was seating a family with three toddlers who had recently arrived and the man had to wait to be seated, which gave Kirsty a chance to appraise him from a distance and, if necessary, to make a quick exit. He was wearing the requisite white carnation - an old-fashioned tradition for these sorts of occasions, but something in that had appealed to her when they were arranging the meeting online the previous evening. He was the stereotypical 'tall dark and handsome', wearing tight dark jeans and a red shirt open at the collar under a black jacket. She certainly wouldn't be leaving before even saying hello to this one as she'd done at a few of her previous encounters. \n\n\nAs he made his way towards the table the hammering in her chest got louder and faster, her hands were shaking and she wondered if she looked as anxious as she felt. She'd hold it together though, just for this last time. Maybe it wouldn't work out, or maybe he would be the one. He certainly looked the part, and the friendly way he had greeted the waiter seemed to indicate he was at least capable of holding a normal civil conversation. To be brutally honest at this point she'd probably settle for someone with a job that didn't stare at her chest all lunchtime. The fact that he seemed personable and friendly was an added bonus. \n\n\nShe stood up to greet him. His handshake was firm and confident and he held eye contact with her for a little too long, she felt. Swallowing nervously she introduced herself in a shaky voice, \"Hi, I'm Kirsty, but I guess you know that.\" What an idiot. This could be her future husband, partner, or at least boyfriend maybe if she didn't mess this one up too badly and kept the crazy hidden for long enough. \n\nHe fixed her with a warm smile. \"So you're the poor soul who has to put up with my company today. Good to meet you. I'm Nick\". ",
"Hey, nice place!\n\nThanks, I thought you might like it.\n\nYeah, I've been tempted to come in a few times. \n\nAh hah! So you still have a sense of humor. \n\nYeah, I guess I do. So hey, what's new?\n\nHmmm, been around 13.8 billion years. Not much is new to me. How about you?\n\nMe? Well, I've got a few things going on. Just trying to get ahead and make a few extra bucks. This weekend I'm gonna go see Noah.\n\nAhh, I heard it's supposed to be pretty good.\n\nHey, maybe you could tell me how things actually were back then. You must have quite the perspective.\n\nWell, is there anything in particular?\n\nYeah, the Nephilim. You know, the whole thing about the fallen angels interbreeding with human women and creating hybrid....\n\nOk Ok! *That*. When are you people ever going to forget?\n\nSo it really happened? Cool!\n\nWell yes, but not exactly the way you put it. It's a long story and times have changed a lot since then. \n\nOK, so just give me the good stuff. We've still got half an hour.\n\nRight. Well things were different back then. Your kind was..... just wandering around all over the face of the Earth. I was in charge of keeping an eye on things. Sorry if I can't go into the details.\n\nBecause it would take too much time?\n\nPartly that, partly because there are rules regarding what you can be told, partly because you lack the cultural context necessary to understand the nuances of what happened.\n\nWell, you said you were in charge. In charge of what?\n\nIt was my job to oversee humanity's development. Physically, your kind had been around for quite a long time, but your spiritual state, your level of mental awareness had recently undergone an ...... what's the right word? An increase, an upgrade..... maybe you could call it a *flowering*.\n\nOho, is this about the part where you offered Eve that apple?\n\nIn a metaphorical sense, from a certain point of view..... yes. You do understand what a metaphor is don't you?\n\nYeah.\n\nSo you understand that some stories are true, but in a more symbolic sense?\n\nSo you mean.....\n\nIt wasn't an apple, or any physical offering of food. The females of your kind were, and are, more advanced in some aspects of psychic development. Less aggressive, more intuitive. Better candidates for a spiritual upgrade,\n\nYeah, when you put it that way, it does make a certain amount of sense. Men are more unruly, less domesticated. Hey, are you going to start on about the feminine divine and stuff.\n\nNo. You getting off track. Do you still want to hear about the Nephilim or not?\n\nOh crap, I almost forgot. Yeah OK..... so where were we?\n\nI was put in charge and I wasn't alone. There were others like myself.\n\nYou're talking about the fallen angels?\n\nFallen is not the best word. If I had to limit myself to English, I'd prefer to say *descended*. Does that help you understand?\n\nSo it's like Ancient Aliens? You guys descended from space like aliens and ......\n\nNo no no. Not space. We didn't come from somewhere else in space. If you have to think of it that way, it's more like we came from another dimension. It's all part of the same universe. We were always here, just not visible by you unless we manifest in a physical form compatible with this level of reality. That's about the best I can describe it, OK?\n\nOk. So then what.? How about the interbreeding?\n\nTypical one track mind. Ok then, interbreeding it is. Well one thing about the story is correct. It wasn't part of the plan. \n\nSo how did it happen?\n\nIt happened because there weren't any *rules*. We had manifested in physical form for the purposes of observing your kind...... and to interact on a limited basis if and when it became necessary.\n\nUhhh, I think I can see where this is going. Physical form and no rules equals hanky panky!\n\n....... yes. Having physical form meant experiencing our own internal state. Physical senses, neural feedback and\n\nYou had bodies, and having bodies meant you could feel stuff, stuff that felt good, like *sex*, right?\n\nYes. Ironically, we ourselves were just as susceptible to temptation once we were in physical form. We wanted to experience what we saw....... and what we saw were human women walking around all over the place. There were no rules. A few of us felt there was no real reason why sexual interactions should be unacceptable.\n\nAnd then what?\n\nA few led, others began to follow. The result was inevitable. Our manifested forms were physically perfect. The human females found us to be very desirable. Many of them became pregnant soon after.\n\nThen came the giants? There's a part in Genesis somewhere where it says there were giants in the earth in those days.\n\nNo, they weren't giants, not in the sense you're thinking off anyways. Remember how we had manifested physical form? We manifested perfection not just in form, but in structure and content as well. Right down to the cellular and genetic level. Some of that genetic perfection was passed on to the hybrid offspring.\n\nOk, so what did they look like? How were they different?\n\nHang on a sec, those fries look pretty good. You want a drink?\n\nYeah, maybe a large iced tea.\n\nOk back to the offspring. They had 50% of our DNA, and our alleles were dominant. So even with variable phenotypic expression..... they were remarkable without exception. Physically exceptional. Many of them would have been athletically gifted to near superhuman levels. But many of them also inherited exceptional mental gifts. Staggering intellect, perfect memories, powerful abilities of innovation, perception and persuasion. They were giants in a sense, but *mental* giants.\n\nAhh, that's not what I would have guessed. So then what? What happened to them? God killed them off in the Flood right?\n\nNext time, we'll talk about that part next time..... if you'd like.\n\nYeah sure. I know of this Thai restaurant downtown......\n\nThe one where the waitresses wear those cute uniforms?\n\nYeah, you've been there?\n\nI've heard of it. The coconut curry chicken is supposed to be quite good. So, next Thursday at one'ish?\n\nYou're on!\n\n\n",
"-093\n\n\"Hello, Charlene.\" The Devil said, gesturing to the seat across from him.\n\n\"Are you going to steal my soul?\" She asked, looking at the seat with trepidation.\n\n\"Charlene.\" He crooned. \"Please. Take a seat.\" She eased into the seat slowly, lowering herself with dread as if to sit there were to burst into flame.\n\n\"I ordered you a salad.\" The Devil told her. \"I instructed them not to add any carrots.\"\n\n\"Why did you invite me to lunch?\" She asked, a tremor in her voice.\n\n\"To talk. To eat. To answer those questions bouncing around in your head.\"\n\n\"What questions?\" She sat the rest of the way down and sighed.\n\n\"Those questions you had for God.\" The Devil quipped.\n\n\"All you speak are lies.\" She mumbled.\n\n\"No. Thats what I used to do.\" He took a deep breath and considered where to start. \"My methods over the past few thousand years have evolved, and my focus has narrowed. You see, I used to think humanity was my enemy. I'll admit that. But, every kid out there with a grudge against their father eventually works through it over time. We aren't so different you and I. You want to know why God let your father touch you. I want to know why my father left me.\"\n\n\"God, almighty, tossed you out for starting a war in heaven.\" She said with certainty.\n\n\"Did he? Were you there? No. I've had time to think. I've had time to consider. I realize, he doesn't do anything with out a purpose, and we are part of that purpose, you and I.\" The Devil sipped from his water glass. He looked at it with wonder. \"We never get this vintage down there.\" He said with a smirk. \n\n\"In hell?\" She asked.\n\n\"Of course. Though, hell isn't really a place. It's possible to strip that sensory supplied consciousness from your brains and just change the sensory inputs so that instead of believing you're enjoying a warm bath, I can change it so you believe you're up to your neck in molten lava. How else do you think I could torture a *soul* for all eternity without destroying it?\" He gave her negligent shrug and a wry smirk.\n\n\"So, you do torture us for all eternity?\" She asked.\n\n\"Not all of you.\" He remarked. \"Only the ones who annoy me, challenge me, or remind me of . . . *father.*\" He told her. \"Heaven and Hell isn't what you were told it was. The body rots. The soul is--an operating system about as close as I can get to making you understand. It doesn't drift. It doesn't flow. It can't be trapped. It can't be transferred. We, father and I, can see the little particles that make it up. We just copy it. It dies here, and we remember it. I bet you didn't know, that you can be in Heaven and Hell at the same time. You don't go one place or the other. You go to both, one, the other, or neither. There are some *souls* that aren't worth collecting by either side.\"\n\n\"Then why torture them?\" She gasped.\n\n\"Just normal sophomoric pettiness.\" The Devil told her. \"Look, you're not really believing all that tripe about me living in a burning cavern and him living in the clouds are you? Those are cartoonish images men living in a desert came up with. Fire was the thing they feared the most. They feared burning. So, eternal damnation is burning forever. For some reason, burning is the thing humans fear the most, and it was that way long before I came into the picture. We're really getting off topic.\" He said.\n\n\"Well, why am I here?\" She pressed.\n\n\"Your father touched you. You were a little girl. He let others touch you. He is about to die. How would like me to punish him?\" The Devil asked.\n\n\"What?\" She asked.\n\n\"That's all. How would you like me to punish him? I can't punish my own for this *purpose* he's made me a part off. I can, however, punish yours. It bides me over to know this is being done. I am your savior today. I am the justice of God today. Today, I get to be that person you always wanted me to be. I get to be the punisher of sins.\" He didn't smile. He looked serious and severe.\n\n\"I--Are you serious? My father is dying?\" A flood of emotions hit her, and she sat across from the devil and shook her head in denial.\n\n\"He used you. He pressed his flesh into yours. Punish him. Name the torment or torments. I will see he is punished.\" The Devil looked up at the approach of the waiter. \"I'll have the prime rib. She'll have the lemon-pepper chicken. No bell peppers though. She doesn't like bell peppers.\" The waiter nodded.\n\n\"And for your sides?\" The waiter asked, looking at the girl with concern. The tears hadn't fallen, but they were there.\n\n\"Oh . . . I didn't see the sides. Where are they?\" The devil asked, flipping through the menu.\n\n\"There in the bottom corner.\" The waiter indicated. \n\n\"Ah. I'll have the baked beans and the green beans. Could I get a slice of Texas toast slathered in butter also?\" He asked. The waiter nodded. \"Green beans and corn for her.\" The devil said, handing over his menu. His thumb touched the waiters.\n\n\"She hired someone to kill you.\" The devil whispered to the man. The man's face went white.\n\n\"I knew it.\" He gasped, scurrying away.\n\n\"Well?\" The Devil asked, pulling out his Ipod.\n\n\"I don't want him to suffer.\" She said.\n\n\"What?\" He asked.\n\n\"I don't want him to suffer.\" She replied. \"I'm better than him. He would do something like this. Not me. Fuck him!\" She snapped. The devil smiled.\n\n\"Your wish is my command.\" The Devil chuckled, hitting a button on the player. \"Downloading.\" He called out in excitement. He lifted the ear buds to his ears and sighed with pleasure. \"Care to give it a listen?\" The Devil asked. She took the ear bud in her hand and stuck it to her ear. She heard her father screaming in terror and pain.\n\n\"I didn't want him punished.\" She cried.\n\n\"You said fuck him.\" The devil said with an oily smile, leaning forward in his eagerness. \"I was poetic about it though.\" He told her. \"You always prayed your stuffed rabbit would protect you. Well, your stuffed rabbit is hung like a moose and living up to the rabbit reputation even as we speak. Only his consciousness is here. There is no body being mutilated. There is nothing being done. I just altered his perception to believe he is being penetrated by an eight foot pissed off rabbit with an erection Viagra would be proud of.\"\n\n\"You're a monster.\" She accused.\n\n\"When it suits me. I just have a psychotic fetish for punishing abusive fathers.\" The devil confessed. \"Excuse me.\" The devil told her, standing up. \"I'll be right back.\" He disappeared through the door leading to the bathrooms.\n\nShe waited there, staring at the melted glass where he'd gripped his water glass. She was in a daze and horrified. Was she a bad person?\" She asked herself over and over again.\n\n\"Excuse me, ma'am. The gentleman you were with said this was for you.\" He handed her a small black book. She opened it to reveal the check.\n\n\"That evil bastard.\" She fumed, digging in her purse for her wallet.",
"I sat down at the table. Honestly this wasn't the sort of place where I expected Lucifer to have his meetings, but then, what did I know?\n\nThe shop was a little hole-in-the-wall deli, specializing in Greek gyros. Other than the shopkeep, no one else was around. \n\nI made my order, and settled in for the wait. Figures that he'd be late.\n\nTwo weeks ago when I received the postcard in the mail, I thought it was a joke. Some teenage prankster with a sick sense of humor probably. \n\nThe card had been scrawled with a beautiful script, but the ink was of blood.\n\n You are cordially invited to a luncheon with the Prince of Darkness, \n Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, et al, on the First day of April (Gregorian),\n this year of Two Thousand and Fourteen.\n\n Please wear appropriate attire.\n\n Refusal is not permitted.\n\nCertainly sounded absurd. But I had the feeling it was legitimate when I tried to get rid of it and it kept coming back. Garbage can, disposal, shredder, the local dump... each time it ended back in my mailbox. Even on Sunday, when there's no post.\n\nSo here I am, taking the day off for a meeting with Evil incarnate. My boss wouldn't have believed me, so today I'm \"sick.\"\n\nI seated myself facing the door, so that I would have a chance to see him first, but apparently there was no fooling the Devil, because from behind me a gorgeous woman walked past, turned on her heel, and smoothly set in the chair across from me, all with the grace of a panther.\n\nNoting my startled look, she smirked. \"Why does everyone always expect a man?\"\n\n\"I'm... I'm sorry. That's just what I thought.\" I stammered, trying to be polite.\n\nSo much for the Prince of Darkness. The woman before me was an absolute 10. Five feet, ten inches tall, not an ounce of fat on her, and a perfect hourglass figure. Her hair was a sultry crimson, though I wasn't surprised. Gingers didn't have souls, after all. Each nail on her hands was perfectly manicured, and she wore no apparent makeup, though didn't appear to need any either.\n\n\"No matter. How are you doing today Charles?\"\n\n\"Er... good I guess. What's this about?\"\n\n\"What? No questions trying to ascertain my authenticity?\" The Devil looked surprised.\n\n\"Well, I mean.. are you? Real, I mean?\"\n\nRolling her eyes, she snapped a finger and set the shopkeep's eyebrows ablaze.\n\n\"Huh. Well ok then.\"\n\n\"Yea. Now that that's over with, I'll formally introduce myself.\" Satan whipped her hair out of her eyes with a shake of her head and extended her hand. \"You can call me Patrick.\"\n\n\"... Patrick?\"\n\n\"Is there a problem with that?\" A fiery light glowed from her pupils and I quickly shook my head.\n\n\"No, no, no problem at all.\"\n\n\"Good. Now, why do you think you're here?\"\n\n\"You... want my soul?\" I ventured the obvious reason.\n\n\"Heavens no! I stopped that program 20 years ago! Turns out, people don't own their souls anyway. Couldn't sell them if they wanted to.\" Patrick laughed and I glimpsed her perfect teeth, dazzled by their brightness.\n\n\"Well, then what?\"\n\n\"Simple. I'm selling timeshares and I think you'd love what I have to offer. Lunch is on me, of course, as long as you stay for the whole hour.\"\n\nI snorted derisively. \"Really? Timeshare spiels don't work with normal salespeople. What makes you think I'm interested?\"\n\n\"Because you're going to Hell anyway Charles. I figured you'd want a chance at better accommodations.\"\n\n\"What? Why am I going to Hell??\" I sputtered.\n\n\"Look,\" Patrick yawned dismissively, \"I don't make the rules. Well I sort of do. But I didn't make you touch that dog Colby. My point is, for a price, you can get a great fire-side condo.\"\n\n\"What price?\"\n\n\"Your reddit account name and password, of course.\"\n\nI stood up resolutely, and shoved my chair in. \n\n\"Ma'am, you can go to Hell.\""
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[WP] Two strangers get married.
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"Its my wedding day. Its supposed to be a happy day. Oh, if only my parents had told me I was in an arranged agreement before I had turned 17. It was their \"big surprise!\" I thought maybe a car. But not Anish. Don't get me wrong, he's not a bad guy but I don't want to marry him! I don't know anything about him other than his name and his parents opinions. He looked nice at least. The ceremony was quick, thankfully, I held his hand, and greeted people after, met many people from my \"new family\" that had flown in from India to see this. I wanted a divorce already, but I didn't want to disappoint my parents. That night we went to the cabin up in Tahoe, right on the lake shore. Once inside the door, I went straight to bed. It wasn't late, but I didn't want to talk to him. \n\nI couldn't sleep and about an hour later, he came up with a glass in his hand. I could smell the alcohol, and hoped he wasn't a drinker. He sat on the bed, glass in hand and I was terrified. He sighed. \n\n\"I know you're not sleeping.\" He waited a few minutes in the darkness before continuing. \"Tomorrow my father will call and ask if we have... You know... Consummated the marriage yet.\" His quiet voice shook. I sat up next to him. \n\n\"I don't want to.\" I stood, walking to the window and raising the blinds. The lake was beautiful under the full moon. \n\n\"And you think I do?\" He said, slurring a little under his thick Indian accent. I looked at him. He looked as terrified as I felt. \"You think I wanted to marry a stranger?... A girl I know nothing about? I barely know your name, and I'm supposed to sleep with you?\" I looked away. He sighed again. \"I'll sleep on the couch.\" He stood. \n\n\"Wait.\" He stopped. \"If... If we're going to do this, let's do it right.\" He twisted his face into a very confused look. \"Let's... Go see a movie.\" \n\nHe looked at his glass. \"I can't drive.\" \n\n\"I can.\" We picked a movie, got into the car and drove into town. The smallest movie theater I had ever seen. We got tickets to an action movie and went in. He bought me some of the little sugary fruit candies they sold at the register. We went in and sat together. Half way through the movie he tapped on the paper bag that contained the candy. \n\n\"May I?\" He whispered. He had sobered up quite a bit since the cabin. \n\n\"Yes, but not the yellow ones. \" they were my favorite. \n\n\"But those are the best ones.\" He smiled. There was something in his smile. Something that made me think that maybe my parents had been right. Maybe I could love this guy after all.",
"\"You bring it?\" She asked.\n\n\"I did.\" He replied. Catherine nodded, adjusted the broad-brimmed hat that marked her as a member of the Strangers. Marcus dipped the brim of his hat in salute and slowly slid the silver steel of his katana from its scabbard.\n\n\"You don't want this.\" Catherine warned. \"A marriage of blades isn't the answer. Marcus gritted his teeth and tried to hide his emotions. He was failing. They were bleeding from every pore.\n\n\"I'll have your vow now.\" Marcus mumbled quietly. Catherine slid her leg out and hooked it back, folding her cape out of the way. She pulled her katana, the yellow and black dyed shark-skin grip slipping growing larger to Marcus with every inch she slipped free. She grabbed the brim of her hat with one hand and sent it sailing off the field of combat.\n\n\"Is this what your looking for, baby?\" She asked with a note of arrogance.\n\n\"Before I kill you, why?\" He asked.\n\n\"Bitch couldn't take a little ribbing.\" She said with a shrug. \"She should have known I was screwing with her. She was your wife. She should have trusted you.\" She kept her blade low and out from her body. He noticed the position. She knew the moment that tip came up, there would be no way to escape the marriage. \"We're family.\" She told him. \"Our blades have tasted the same blood.\"\n\nHe ducked his head, and slipped his hat free and gave it a weak toss toward the bushes to his left. An errant wind drove it into the ground before it covered half the distance. He undid the clasp securing his cape and gave it a twist and a flip, then tossed it near the hat. She did the same. They stood in boiled leather vest stained red, neither liking the arrangement of this marriage. \n\n\"I was only teasing her. She drew her blade first.\" Catherine explained. \"Don't do this.\"\n\n\"We're already at the chapel. We each hold our vows. We came to be married.\" He said, bringing the tip of his blade up and saluting her coldly.\n\n\"Damn it.\" She growled, bringing her blade up in salute as well. \"I didn't go there looking to kill her. She challenged me. You know I had to take the challenge. Marcus. Marcus? Don't do this.\" She cried, the arrogance gone. She her death in his eyes; his hard cold eyes. He whipped the braids from before his face with a flip of his head, clenched his teeth. She could tell by the sudden swell of his jaw muscles.\n\n\"Will you marry me?\" He asked coldly.\n\n\"Of course.\" She whispered nervously. They rushed forward and their blades embraced in a shower of sparks, came apart and rushed back in to kiss. His blade crossed left to right and right to left. Hers crossed right to left and left to right to counter his. He lunged. She parried. He caught her riposte near his hilt, lifted his elbow and twisted to get inside the arch of her arm and punched the tip of his sword down into the top of her boot.\n\nShe cried out, twisted right, dropped to one knee and came across intent on cutting his legs out from beneath him. He left his sword in her foot and twisted, using the impaling sword to block her horizontal cut.\n\nAs Strangers, they were trained by the same grandmaster. She changed the angle of her sword and shoved the hard razor sharp tip of her sword up toward the soft under side of his chin. He arched back, pulling his sword free and kept the arch going. His trailing foot caught her under her chin. She staggered back, dazed and in a panic. She slashed back and forth blindly in case he was coming for her.\n\nShe came to her senses and saw him standing several yards away with his katana resting on his shoulder, patiently waiting for her to regain control of her faculties.\n\n\"That was kind.\" She mused.\n\n\"I don't want kill you while you are unaware of it. When we divorce, I want you to know why.\" He explained quietly. \"Are you ready?\" He asked.\n\n\"Don't do this.\" She begged.\n\n\"That is unbecoming. Make ready.\" He warned, bringing his sword out and lowering it to the side with both hands gripping the blue and black dyed shark-skin hilt of his own sword.\n\n\"I love you.\" She told him urgently, pleading with him. There was a tear in her eye trying to decide if it should fall.\n\n\"I know, but I loved her.\" He said. He rushed forward, leaning into his dash. She raised hers high and rushed forward, favoring her injured foot. The came together to kiss, but missed.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nHe sank to his knees. The beautiful sword the grandmaster had fashioned for him slipped from his nerveless fingers. \"It . . . was a . . . good marriage.\" He grunted. \"Short, but memorable.\" His eyes watched the carnations rock back and forth in the breeze. She came to his side, sinking down beside him.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\" She sobbed, laying her sword aside to take him in her arms.\n\n\"You've become a better kisser since our grandmaster first paired us.\" He whispered, leaning against her.\n\n\"I've kissed a lot of men.\" She whispered back.\n\n\"A few women too.\" He quipped, coughing up flecks of blood.\n\n\"Yes. Women too.\" She confirmed with a faint smile. She swallowed hard. \"I'm sorry.\" He laid his head on her shoulder and for a moment, she closed her eyes and pretended it wasn't because he had died. For a moment, she got to hold the man she loved. For a moment, he was more than Stranger. ",
"Even if it’s supposed to be a joyous occasion, the scowl won’t leave his face. He can’t stand everything going on. His parents are excited and so are hers. At least his brother feels the same as him, that this was going to be a horrific experience. He doesn’t bother fixing his bow tie, even though his father gestures for him to, rolling his eyes instead. The scowl that appears on his father’s face matches his own and it draws an extremely faint smirk to one side of his lips. Good, he shouldn’t get everything he wants out of this. \n\nThe organ begins to play and everyone’s eyes snap to the entrance of the building. An older man begins walking along slowly with what looks like a woman dressed in a flowing, white dress. A veil obscures her face and even her hair is hidden under the veil and dress. He scowls even more at the sight of his bride and her father walking her down the aisle. If only he could’ve gotten away. \n\nThe pair continues up to where he stands with the priest who speaks to her father in words that the groom doesn’t care to understand. He can’t stand all the smiling, smug faces. Fuck them and their business deal. And it was even worse that they couldn’t get divorced as long as their parents ran their companies. “John,” Hearing his name snaps the groom back to attention, allowing the priest to continue, “Repeat the vows after me.” He scowls again but begrudgingly follows the directions. \n\n“Now Amelia, if you’ll do the same.” The bride’s head nods and a gentle, melodic voice attempting to hide a sneer greets the room. They might actually get along if what he heard in her voice was any indication as to her thoughts about the wedding. \n\n“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The groom reaches out and begrudgingly lifts the veil to reveal his bride. Grey eyes follow his movement upwards but stop on his face, the scowl on her face echoing his own as small curls of red hair hang on either side of her face. He loves the scowl he sees. Yes, they were definitely on the same page. \n\nHe leans in and brushes his lips lazily over the bride’s and draws back. He’s not sure what was going to happen from here but maybe they could stick it to their parents for doing such an antiquated thing to them."
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What do you do within the 5 years? What is your plan to prevent 9/11? are you successful? What changes when you come back to 2014?
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[WP] You find a wormhole that takes you back to 1996. You decide to live there to until 2001 to prevent 9/11.
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"Pity you suggested 1996 instead of 10 years earlier in 1991 - 91 I would have gone with the protagonist parking a car in the north tower basement under the world trade center. To the protagonist the collapse of the towers is inevitable, terrorists would keep trying to attack such a strong symbol of western dominance. The only change that he could make would be to park where Eyad Ismoil would have placed the van loaded with explosives in 1993 and force him to park in a spot which would have collapsed the north tower into the southern one and bring them both down 8 years early...on Clintons watch, where the response would be different and surely the future would be brighter. On return the only change is the slogans state that we should never forget 2/26.",
"8th January, 1996:\nI've never written a diary before, but I guess this is a good time to start.\nThis isn't a dream. I really am in 1996. The WormBox worked. Sam didn't make the journey back. Sam was the one who came up with the idea, the hardware and physics wizard, I just wrote the code for the various parts to glue it together. To see Sam in the WormBox in a pile of... sigh, I don't even want to describe it. I want to remember Sam as the genius and friend that he was. Burying him today was surreal, I felt like I wasn't really there, but an actor looking at myself digging. Without him in this world, everything changed. All our plans are shot. I still have the notes in my pockets on what we planned on doing, but without him around, it all seems pointless. I'm totally exhausted.\n\n11th January, 1996:\nI still remember like it was yesterday. The news on television, the frantic unanswered calls. I still dream of Dad, like last night. In the dream, I always manage to reach him on the phone and he manages to escape, and in that strange dream reality, we meet for pancakes and coffee afterwards to talk about it. Doesn't ever make sense how that's the first thing we do after 9/11, but in that dream it does, and how I wish it were true.\n\nBut maybe what conscious thinking for days doesn't do, a dream will illuminate.\n\nI'm going to save him. I've decided to spend the next few years preventing 9/11 from happening and save Dad and all the other people that day. There won't be those senseless wars. I'm going to change the world. I won't ever be able to bring Sam back, but his sacrifice won't be for nothing. \n\n16th January, 1996:\nThe plan is set. With my list of all the IPOs to buy, i'll be able to raise half a billion, easily. The tough thing is to remain hidden, and to find the team to protect the planes on 9/11. Counter-hijacking, if that's not a term yet, I am about to invent it and show it to the world in a big way.\n\n1st January, 2000:\nIt's funny reliving again how everyone was so worked up over Y2K. My portfolio has already grown to 450 million and that's not even cashing out the big ones yet. By the time 2001 hits, I might be a billionaire before the Dot-com bust happens. Happy New Year Sam.\n\nThe team is progressing well with the training. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL surely came true in the last month as the team narrowly escaped an incident during live-fire training. But their professionalism shone through. Morale is high. The facade of forming a new VIP protection company is still holding.\n\nSeptember 11th, 2000:\nOne more year to D-Day. I told the teams the real reason for their formation today. Why they are so highly paid and yet they've never been tasked with any assignment. Why they were to keep a low profile. I showed the team the intelligence that Team B has been gathering all this while, and my God, if our team has managed to uncover so much about Al Qaeda privately, what kind of information does the government have, but failed to respond to?\n\nIt's the biggest sigh of relief i've ever had in my life when all members of Team A decided to go with the plan.\n\n16th February, 2001:\nTeam B says that Al Qaeda may be on our tail. Shit. There is a backup option of assassinating the hijackers just before 9/11, but what if they have backup hijackers that we don't know about which they send on that day? It's still best to stick with the original plan.\n\n19th August, 2001:\nThe tickets have been booked for Team A. Team B raised questions on how \"Team C\" managed to get the intel on the flights. Nelson even hinted in the meeting on whether Team C even exists. No matter. The plan will work.\n\nFunny how in all this the fact that i've become close to a billionaire barely even registers. This must be how Batman feels.\n\nSeptember 4th, 2001:\nGod speed Team A. From this day on, we will no longer be in contact with them and they will execute the plan independently. We must avoid being exposed at this last crucial moment.\n\nI can't sleep.\n\nSeptember 10th, 2001:\nGod I hope the hijackers don't change their flight. I hope all these things I did all these years didn't cause these butterflies to flap differently.\n\nSeptember 11th, 2001:\nThe news reports that there were several flights hijacked today but passengers on board managed to save all the flights. Conspiracy theories abound in the papers. All flights are grounded. Several passengers were injured, but from what we gathered on the news, it seems that everyone from Team A are fine. The radio silence must continue between Team A and HQ.\n\nThe planes didn't crash into the towers or the Pentagon, but will Bush still wage the war anyway? Only time will tell. But today, we celebrated back at the HQ for we have saved the lives of thousands.\n\nI'm so tempted to call Dad today.\n\n\n\nEDIT: This is my first ever Writing Prompt! I guess I can expand this into a Tom Clancy novel given a year to write, but this is my Rainbow Six imitation that I came up with during lunch today. Hope you all enjoyed the read!"
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My first take on this was comic book. Second try was very James Bond.
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[WP] You are a super villain! Write your great monologue. You must include (a) your reasons for doing this, (b) your master stroke, and (c) what will happen next.
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"The world, dear hero, would rather watch the both of us burn. It is power we have and it is that same power that they fear. Fear so often melts into hate, does it not? A hatred that they would use against us to, how did that senator put it, \"protect people from tyrannous power\". How interesting that he did not realize that the same so-called protection set in motion a series of events that granted one such as ourselves power.\n\nOh, do not give me such a look hero. You were there when our town burned. Yet from the ashes you and I rose. Like great phoenixes we were reborn as something more than mere humans. \n\nOf course, you had to run along and be their little lap dog. Did they promise to leave you be once you completed this little quest for heroics? How little you truly know. They will cast you aside as soon as you have outlived your usefulness to them. \n\nYet by my side, you and I could change this world. Think of your children, hero. What kind of world will they be living in should you prevail here? A world of oppression against our kind. They will be shunned as \"freaks\" by the other children and their parents. You and I both know how those *other* people can be.\n\nOh yes, fear does rule their lives. Soon it will be I that rules. Even now the army of our kind moves forward. Already, I have taken control of several key points. The dawning of a new era is at hand, dear hero. \n\nAh, but I see by the stalwart expression in your eyes that you refuse to join me. It is no matter, I suppose. If you will not join me in my endeavors, then I must kill you. You leave me little choice. \n\nI am truly sorry it has come to this, old friend. ",
"Well, I mean, look at us. Look at what we've done to get here. Now it wasn't always this way, we once had dreams, we had goals together. We thought we were going to change the... no, we were going to save the world. \n\nIsn't that what you're here to do today? If this was a goddamn Hollywood action movie, this would be where you'd stop me. You'd either shoot me, or I'd go to jail, and you'd make off with the girl of your dreams. But that's not what is happening today. You're not the hero, you're a lunatic. You kill me, and I become the martyr. Everything I aspire for will be achieved by someone else, rising up to take my place.\n\nI am the hero. Once I am elected tomorrow, the plans will be set into motion to save Britain. Our culture and way of live is being corrupted by those who wish to destroy us. Those who come in on boats and planes, bringing violence, hatred and oppression. Those who slaughter women and children in the name of their false gods. We must cleanse ourselves and our country of this filth. We must cleanse our country of the unfit, insane and deranged.\n\nThis nation can be strong again as it was before. It will survive. People like you will not. Our days of protesting, of your conspiracy theories, they are over, old friend. This new era will be an era of power and prosperity, and it will begin with this National Unity Act. Those who wish to bring the British down, will be crushed. Those who come from afar to poison our neighbourhoods will be removed. Those who speak against our unity, who spread dangerous socialist ideas, they will be silenced. \n\nWe will be rebuilt and reborn, cleansed and stronger than ever.\n\nIt's a good speech, right? I can hear the roaring crowds already. I just wish you could be by my side as this all happens. It's tragic that we don't see eye-to-eye anymore. I figure this is goodbye. The next year will be hard on you, I know. When it happens to you, don't take it personally. I gave you the chance to join me, to listen to reason and to be a true patriot. You chose to be a fucking traitor. \n\nI'm going to save our country, Eric. Go home now, get some rest. ",
"\"Now I have you captain! I shall tell you what you have failed to stop as a consolation prize for playing. Just now my space ships are moving into position, they will begin with a barrage of plasma to soften your defenses, then quickly followed by 1.3 million Elite warriors. Can your tiny human brain even comprehend such a number!? Have you any idea the wrath you have brought upon your people! I am the danger! The ground will shake as I walk upon it. I have enough worriers for every man, woman and child on this god forsaken colony. You are doomed. You should have never threatened me and my empire. Now puny human, this is what you get. This is your repentance for challenging me! And I will make you watch as I burn your home to the ground. Then once I am done you will be allowed to live the rest of your days amongst the ashes of your friends and relatives.\" ",
"\"What you don't understand is that I have already won. You see all those little people below us? They're rooting for me. I payed my time. I twisted those dials, I pulled those levers and I can't imagine how many damn flashing buttons I pressed. I was the most perfect little cog in this perfect machine of a goddamn existence. I cranked the handle, I flipped the switch. At the beck of the higher order I ran in my hamster wheel and the whole world turned all thanks to me. Except there was no thanks. No praise! Nothing at all!\n\n\nIt's time for a change. I apologize, that implies you still have a chance. The time for change has come and gone, and I won. First I stopped following the order, and I was punished for it. The world lashed out and I suffered for not playing along. It kept spinning and with every rotation tried to whip me back in line. I deserved that pain, then I earned it. \n\nI saw their pain, their undeniable pain of being stuck in constant cycle. They feared the pain of stopping, and I don't blame them. It was intense, so I decided to free them. Make the spinning stop. If the world can't spin they wouldn't be forced to make it spin. You can't force someone to do the impossible!\n\nSo look down, look at those poor souls trapped in this spinning mad house. I'm going to free them all. It has already begun. One by one the cogs will fall apart. The world will shake and crack in fear of change. The world will cease to spin, and without its spin she will fall silent in her fight against the forces of nature. We shall be bare to the winds of the universe! The radiation will kill some, yes, but they are the ones too weak to live without the spin. Besides that is just the start. When I am finished all spin will be removed the world. We will be free to be as nature intend, without higher order.\n\nGo ahead and kill me! Its the only way to stop me! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\n\nToo bad for you stopping me won't bring the spin back. As we speak, wave after wave of seismic force shake the earth, boosters force her to defy nature. Can't you tell? Its been night for twenty-fours. The spin has stopped, the magnetic fields will disperse and the earth will no longer be shielded from the cosmos. And then she will be bombarded with radiation. Bombarded with Element-764. And one by one the electrons will lose their spin. One by one they shall fall out of orbit. And without them the atoms themselves will fall apart. \n\nI shall erase higher order from existence. Back to the basics! Look upon them, see their impending freedom!\"",
"\"It's too late to stop me, you are so much like the government I dismantled, so much like the government you claim to defend. You act when it's too late, when your fight is lost. Isn't that the American way though? Let's fight and show Germany , show Afghanistan, show Russia, let's show em Uncle Sam don't pull any punches when he been hurt. Uncle Sam isn't hurt boy, he's dead. Mortally wounded by a person he scorned. I saw the damage the Saint of a nation America did, killing children from drones, condoning crimes against humanity, fighting only for those they believed to be innocent as claiming to be the worlds police force. It was despicable, and oh so easy to destroy. The people didn't fight for America when the president died, they didn't fight when government officials collapsed everywhere from nanobot induced heart attacks. No they kept on munching on Big Macs and watching the latest Game of Thrones while people everywhere around them suffered. Why was it that they didn't fight? They were comfortable little pigs that's why, they didn't stand Til I threatened their comfort, so they send YOU to fight me. Send you to reclaim America, but it's too late. There is no Governing force over these pigs and they are already at each others throats. Killing me will not save them from themselves, I've shown them the real enemy; themselves. America the plague has been eradicated by the great physician: me. Now the world can be at peace. You know what should be the biggest blow to you? This was a stepping stone. Soon I will see all other superpowers bend their knee to me, all will be overturned. The obese will starve, the starved will be full. The rich will be in rags, the poor in mansions. I will see that every person who has seen luxury will see suffering and every sufferer will be treated like kings. This will bring equal ness to man. ",
"\"You see, the funny thing is that you and I aren't all that different. We both want to the best for mankind. You look confused--and rightfully so. How could I, who have gone through so much trouble to weed out the inferior, possibly care about the benefit of humankind? Open your eyes, hero. Do you see all the pain and suffering that so many people experience every day? Countless people struggle to live from day to day because of their inferiority. It's not their fault that they have various defects. Yet every day they suffer because of their own inability to live normally, and are treated differently because of this. \n\nYou call me cruel for my wish to cut off this part of the human race, but you yourself would leave them to continue their miserable, pathetic existence, where each day is a battle against the entire world, a world that they know they will never be a part of. Why would you force these people to continue to live this hell on earth? Why would you demand that this man, crippled from birth, be pushed around in a chair, having every able-bodied person he meets look down on him? Or that this girl, with the mental capacity scarcely greater than that of a seven-year-old, be forced to live knowing that she will never be treated as equal? Ha! And you call me cruel? \n\nNo. \n\nNo. I have seen the what these people go through. My own brother, tired of living with no legs, killing himself when I was a boy! My childhood best friend, constantly bursting into tears of anguish and rage at the fact that, kind as she was, she would always be \"the retarded girl!\" You fail to see that if they are not killed, they will kill themselves! You fail to see that these people do not want to live! YOU FAIL TO SEE THAT I DO NOT TO THIS OUT OF HATRED, BUT OUT OF LOVE!\n\nLove. Love not just for the human race as a whole, but for each individual person that dwells on this planet. I do not wish for any being to suffer. Not now, nor in the future. This is why the inferior must be exterminated. It is sad that lives must be lost, yes--but it is for the best. This is the only way to ensure that no inferior person must suffer, and that no more inferior people will ever be born--for the poor gene pool that created them in the first place will no longer exist. This will be an end to the inferior, and the start of a race where all can be seen as equal, for there will be none to feel as if everyone is better than they are.\n\nAm I still cruel, hero, for wanting to end their lives and their suffering? Consider this: to them, it will be like drifting off to sleep. They will be escorted into a private chamber, which will be filled with a special gas to put them to sleep. A final, peaceful, dreamless, sleep. A second gas will then be pumped into the room, stopping their breathing without them ever noticing. The process will be humane, painless, and brief. They will never know that they have died. They will not be treated unkindly, for they have suffered all their lives. For their last few minutes on earth, they will not know that they are different. They will not feel inferior, for they will be treated as if they are the same as everyone else. For the last few moments of their lives, they will feel the way that they have always wanted to feel--they will feel normal.\n\nThis will mark a new beginning. A beginning of a new race. A race of the superior. There will be no need for suffering, for all people will be normal. This will be a permanent end to the people like my brother, or like my dear friend, now long gone. I do this because I wish to better humankind and put an end to sorrow and misery. How can you rightfully claim to love the human race, when you demand that I halt my plans and let the daily struggle continue for so many people? And you call me cruel?\"",
"For all my life, I've been looked down upon, shit on by this world, told that I wasn't good enough. But you know what Jack? You know something all these idiots have gotten wrong, it's that I AM THAT GOOD. Have you ever played Chess Jack? I have, and I'm always a hundred moves ahead. Who do you think bribed all the guards? Who do you think it's been, tirelessly working behind your fucking back as you hogged all the glory for unifying the world under your rule? It's always been me Jack, and as you lie there, with a sword piercing your back, I'd like you to know that I'll play the world, just like I played you. \n\nI will quell whatever uprising there is, rule them with an iron fist, I will stab and maim to make sure that NO ONE ever challenges me, and my biggest regret is that I can't keep you in the miserable state you are in, alive, to watch your beloved world BURN. \n\nThere is no peace, not for you, not for me, and most certainly, not for this fucked up world. ",
"You and I were raised not by free people, but by nodes in a system. The prevalent logic of this society is that we must aspire to *order*, to seek mastery over the elemental chaos of the universe. To that end, the individual has been set aside in favour of an inane, chattering vessel for the \"greater\" security of an ultimately doomed collective. \n\nCan you not see the flaw in this logic? What meaning has the life of a human without individuality? Society tries to protect us by reducing us to less than men and women. We become husks, devoid of *soul*. It is unacceptable.\n\nNature *is* chaos. Only in the face of that sickening void do we exist as we were supposed to. What I do, I do with a heart at once heavy and free from burden. Only by dooming this society can I save the individuals from which it is constructed.\n\nMany will die. I will bear the weight of that. Someone must. Not for humanity, but for the humans. \n\nSo there you have it. I open this gate, and the unspeakable creatures of chaos infest our world. They will gorge themselves, and all will see the true nature of our reality. Governments will fall. People will turn on each other. The order will break. Man will be *truly* free.\n\nThe beasts cannot sustain their physical forms in this dimension for long, but they will not need to. The damage will be done, and the individual shall be restored.\n\n...\n\nAh, you think to stop me. You are a loyal slave for certain. But you are powerless. The gate requires a sacrifice in order to open, and I can think of no-one more fitting.\n\n(Villain shoots himself in the head)\n\n\n\n",
"And here we are, Raymond. I may call you Raymond, may I not? Well that doesn't really matter. You can't reply as it is. No, no, don't give me that stare. You think I'm evil and you the hero? The knight in shining armour come to save the metaphorical princess from the dragon's den? Well, you would, wouldn't you. That's what you were taught, after all.\n\nYou see Raymond, that's quite wrong. Abjectively so. You really shouldn't think in such simple terms, it makes you seem simple and I know you're not. You frown? But you know I'm right, deep down, I've been watching you for some time.\n\nI'm sure they told you what I'm up to. Explode some bombs, kill important people, sow chaos, and bathe the world in blood as it descends into war. That should be all, no? Well, let's see what they did not tell you? What do you think?\n\nI plan to rule the world as a whole, for one. I plan to remove all obstacles, with force if necessary. I've been working toward this goal for years. Would it not be better if the world was as one. What could be achieved?\n\nI sow chaos so that I may move in and meet no resistance, to avoid bloodshed. I really don't want to hurt anyone. Do you believe me, Raymond? Not that it matters, but I wish you did. So, when my men start taking over cities, dressed in the uniforms of other nations what would happen? War. And war between superpowers causes what? Ah, yes. I can see that you know. Nuclear retaliation. But many people would die, no?\n\nYou see, that's where you are wrong. That's where everyone is bloody wrong. Have you never wondered how I financed my endeavours? \n\nI have people in all major military suppliers and hi-tech company. Add a receiver to the design here, a transmitter there, and a fuse elsewhere. Just enough to disable it remotely, but not enough to be noticed. Simply put, I have kill switch for every missile, military computer system, and modern vehicle in the world.\n\nWhat do you think the people will do when they realize their governments almost killed them all? When they find out it was I who stopped the catastrophe, by disabling the armed forces? I will be a hero and their government the villain. And what will that make you Raymond? A henchmen of the villains? A mere minion to the hated.\n\nI see that you understand.\n\nMy men will move in. They will bring order to the chaos I sowed before. They will bring food to the hungry. They will be loved and welcomed. I will control the world and there will be peace. We will be one and as one reach for the stars.\n\nWill you not join me, Raymond?",
"“Do you dare to lecture me hero? You really believe yourself so superior to me, that you must stand here and judge me? What I do, I do for the security of all mankind! When you fly around with your cape and your tights, ready to “save” the World, do you ever stop to consider the crippling effects it has on humanity? Of course you don’t! My species has become way too dependent on you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Do we really frighten you that much John? Or is it that you are afraid of becoming obsolete? If this experiment works, and make no mistake, it will, my planet won’t need you anymore. You will have to move on, as always, find a new planet to impose your morality and justice on. Until they get sick of you as well. And that cycle will continue on and on. Isn’t that what you are truly afraid of? It’s ironic that the The Invincible Man has such an inferiority complex. You think you are protecting this world? No. You are stagnating it’s evolution.”"
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Developers claim it will make every other video game obsolete.
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[WP] The video game to end all other video games is about to go online.
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"I stared at the computer screen. Steam was open, with a game on it.\n\n\"No.\" I shook my head. \"They did it.\"\n\nEveryone was hyped for it. The only problem was the hackers.\n\nBack when the game was in its beta phase, people used cheating devices to make the ultimate characters. They desecrated the land, covering entire continents with images of themselves.\n\nThey said, \"The combat system is perfect for a game like that! Do it! Put it online!\"\n\nThe lag. It was like Twitch Plays Pokemon, but worse. It took a solid minute for your controls to register, which did not go well with tournaments.\n\nSo many people online. Over 5 million people used it.Over 50 thousand complained that the game literally melted their systems.\n\nI was sure that people came when they saw it. But all I could see was a nightmare. I was sure it would shut down before it was fully released. But it wasn't.\n\n\"They did it,\" I repeated. \"They made a Pokemon MMO.\"",
"He looked at /r/gaming again, taking a sip from his limited edition mountain dew. \n\n\"Same shit as always.\" he grumbled as his bloodshot eyes glanced over the front page. \n\n1. \"Last chance to preorder and get the anti-recoil buff\" \n2. \"What I'm looking forward to most [Fixed][Fixed][Fixed]\" \n3. \"Uninstalling Call of Duty XXII: Supernatural warfare. Gonna have a clean SSD for this!\"\n4. \"Forget Half Life 3, take a look at the upcoming launch day crowbar DLC\" \n\nHe sighed. Every webpage was plastered with ads, there was no escape. \n\nSure, he enjoyed the first game. Like the rest of the world, he hoped, waited, longed for a sequel. When the first screenshots leaked, he nearly died. It was more than he had ever dreamed it would be. It looked... perfect. \n\nEvery morning he'd wake up and drive to work. Radio ads praising it would keep him from falling asleep on the drive. Drew and John would discuss it for the majority of his 8 hour shift, only stopping for bathroom breaks. \n\n\"IGN gave it a 20/10\" John would say. \"I know, I nearly came when I saw that game play video!\" Drew would reply. \n\nHe would drive home, hearing the same ads over and over again. He would walk up the steps into his apartment and collapse on the coach. The remote seemed so far away, but he had to see what was on. Nearly every major news network was covering E3 or a recent tweet from the devs team. He would turn it off and heat up a package of limited edition Hot Pockets. He would log into Reddit to get the latest scoop. He'd play the original for a while and pass out on his chair. Rinse and repeat. \n\nIt grew old. The hype became dull. He was no longer excited. He was depressed. \n\nHe closed Reddit. He couldn't live like this anymore. He opened the safe and grabbed his handgun. \n\nIt would all be over soon. Never again would he ever have to hear about Goat Simulator 2. "
] | 2
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[WP] Marines are sent in to investigate a city going dark. The year is 2029.
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[
"“El Paso?”\n\n“Yes, Madam President, El Paso Texas has gone dark”. Turning in her chair the new new president seems more confused than concerned. “Michael, is this some sort of joke?”\n\nMichael Adams; the standing secretary of defense, looks back nervously. Reaching out, he hands over a folder marked with exaggerated letters spelling out Top Secret. “Madam President, this is no joke. May I set up a meeting in 10 for a briefing? The call has gone out. Your staff has been invited as well as the Director of the FBI, Homeland Security, NSA and the CIA. We also took the liberty to invite the heads of the armed forces. Also, the Governor of Texas is waiting for a call back.”\n\nPresident Catherine Bonnet stands up and opens the folder. “Michael, I know you and John were close. His assassination hurt us all. Right now, here on my first day as President, I need your help. I know you don’t like me, but we have work to do.\n\nThe power play breaks the ice. “Madam President, I am sorry those comments ever made it to the press. Its not just my wife, its her whole family. Their religion is everything to them. I can promise you it will not compromise my ability to do my duties.”\n\nGoing back to business, President Bonnet; who hasn’t broken her stare asks for a status.\n\nMichael relaxes and changes posture to a position of military at ease. “The city went dark approximately 2 hours ago. All communication was down until about 20 minutes ago. It appears phone and ISPs are now routed through Mexico. These pictures here show that all connecting roads are blocked with armed guards. We have launched a series of drones. The first few were shot down by military grade anti-aircraft rockets. It is guessed that they have been looted from the local Army base. Since then we have launched our more stealthy RQ-170 Sentinels which are gathering data. Here is the NSA brief. We have no reports of deaths. There were a few injuries from those who refused to submit. Most of the traffic is confusion and fear. We have no demands as of yet. However, this stationary has been pulled from emails coming out of the area.” \n\nThe president holds a printed out email with a small official looking symbol at the bottom. The symbol is plain with only a cross in the middle. Around it are the words “Nation of El Paso In God We Trust”. The signature says President Rick Perry; appointed by Jesus. \n\nThe phone rings interrupting the moment. Answering it, the president only says, “yes, thank you” and hangs up. Grabbing the docs she looks at Michael. “They are ready, lets go.”\n\nStepping out of the oval office they are met by two Secret Service agents who match step. As they make way down the hall the tension and activity are palpable. No matter how much is going on though the path always clears for the president. Finally entering the conference room, things stop, everyone stands at attention. Moving to her seat Catherine barks out “At ease, lets get this going”.\n\nEach presentation gives the same data. It was an inside job. The city has been cut off from the US with only routes to Mexico still open. The planning seemed to have started six months ago when the president backed tighter restrictions on non-profits. A multitude of churches from all over the country had missing people. A few had already been confirmed in El Paso. It was guessed the rest would as well. The Presidents face grew more frustrated as each presenter went by. Finally, she slams her hand down on the table. The room freezes.\n\n“Can somebody tell me why this has happened?” The room is dead silent now. “If this is a reaction to having the first Female, Atheist President….” There was nothing more to say. Everyone had the same thought and nobody dared say yes. The lunatics were now running the asylum in El Paso. “Fine, lets hear options.” Again silence.\n\nGeneral Lewis B. Puller Commandant of the Marine Corps stands up. “Madam President, when there is trouble we send in the Marines. The constitution clearly states that the US military cannot be used against its people. It would appear that El Paso by taking its own sovereignty has caused a bit of trouble.”\n\n",
"Fuck I swear this shit was getting old, another “dark city” bullshit push in the middle of the night. I hated this shit. I only started this bullshit log because my therapist said I might help with my “PTSD”. Ha, another pussy ass officer trying to tell us REAL Marines how to act. Bullshit. I tell you what this was. I’d seen it before. It started in LA, we’d moved to Denver, moved on to Omaha. Now here I was, Dallas. The reports where everywhere. Walking people, people that were thought to be dead, going after the living. This was the stuff I had dreamed about as any dumb Oklahoma boy had growing up back in the day. OMG THE ZOMBIES ARE HERE GRAB YOUR AR-15s GET IN THE CHEVY LETS GO! It wasn’t anything like that. We’d gone into LA scared, turns out everyone just panicked and burned the city, trying to “deny the enemy resources” that’s what the Mayor called it, same story in Denver , bunch of sacred ass civvies that that thought they were going to be the victim of the next “outbreak.” Nothing happened in Denver or LA and hell all Omaha was, was a few crazy rebels. I had joined the Marines to fight. My dad had gone into Iraq and Afghanistan. He had the ribbons, the stripes and the stories. I had been in a few minor fights in Japan when they rebelled back in 2020, but it wasn’t anything compared to Dad’s stories of going door to door in Phantom Fury. I need to kill, I need to fight. I was 8th generation, to fight and kill or die was in my blood. So in I marched into Dallas, IAR on my arm, my fire team at my back. No one thought anything was wrong, the city was silent. Dead silent, which I guess in hindsight, is a little odd. So there I was,a pissed off Lance Corporal, breaking to change socks and eat some chow in downtown Dallas when I heard it, the sound. The sound is something no living human should ever have to hear. Imagine cats fighting, nails on a chalk board and getting raped all at once. It attacks your ears, you freeze, you are to scared to move. That’s when you see em, like Tobey McGuire in that old Spiderman movie, crawling over everything. I’ll admit at first I was scared, hell I pissed my pants, but then everything kicked in. Kill, Kill, KILL. It was primal. I knew it was them or me. They were slow; I could kill anything if it moved slowly enough. I got my squad together and we aimed and fired. BAM BAM BAM. All I heard for the next six hours. When it was all said and down there was 500 or more dead Zs in front of us. It was a wall of bodies. I’ll never forget that. The way they smelled. It was July in Texas the sun was up. The ospreys came and took us out. I could still see them, everywhere, their smell, and their sound. I’ll die remembering Dallas and wishing I had died there like so many good Marines did that day.",
"\"Hey Johnston, tell me why we're going in first again?\"\n\n\n\"That's *Sergeant* Johnston to you private. In any case, it's come down from the very top to go and investigate what's happening in Seattle. Just follow orders son, and you'll end up like me.\"\n\n\n\"What's that Sarge, leading a group of noobies into a situation no one has the faintest idea what has occurred? Sounds like a mighty fine career you've made for yourself.\"\n\n\n\"Shut up Rosen. In any case, I bet it has something to do with the storms passing from Minnesota and Montana. Unusual weather patterns and a terrible amount of rain makes for a terrible situation.\"\n\n\n\"Yea, but like I said before. Why are we going in first. And on foot at that. I don't even have a round chambered Sarge.\"\n\n\n\"Well private, maybe you would like to go back to Washington, tell the President your opinion and then get down to the matter that is currently occupying that thick skull of yours? Perhaps I should call Captain Malfie here to give you a nice spanking.\"\n\n\n\"No sir, that'll be fine.\"\n\n\n\"So, what's our objective anyways? We can see from here the cloud above the city, no movement from or to, save the odd bird. What could be going on? Any theories guys?\"\n\n\n\"Hey Tewako, your mouth is talking again, remember how I told you the next time you speak is the next time you eat a fist?\"\n\n\n\"I'm just saying. It doesn't look particularly mysterious.\"\n\n\n\"Yea, well, there's also nothing mysterious about my shoving my boot, straight up your-\"\n\n\n\"**CONTACT LEFT**, Currie, Rosen and Tewako, get into cover, Bartes, Murray and Fernando, on me.\"\n\n\n\"I didn't hear any-\"\n\n\n\"Currie's been hit! **MEDIC!! MEDIC ON THE FRONT NOW**\"\n\n\n\"Sarge, where's it coming from? I can't see nothing!\"\n\n\n\"Shut it, take cover behind that barrier. We've just reached the city limits. How's Currie?\"\n\n\n\"He's been hit in the shoulder by something large. No penetration, but it knocked the wind out of him.\"\n\n\n\"Sir, I've found something.\"\n\n\n\"What is *that*, Private Bartes.\"\n\n\n\"Not sure sure. But it's all connected. Not plastic or metal, it's made of some sort of alloy or fibre optic cable.\"\n\n\n\"But that colour. That's not naturally forming. Nor does it look like it's man-made.\"\n\n\n\"**CONTACT, RIGHT**!!\"\n\n\n\"Whose hit this time?! REPORT\"\n\n\n\"Sarge, it's Rosen. No serious damage, but again knocked out. I don't know what this is sir, but I think I have a theory.\"\n\n\n\"What might that be private?\"\n\n\n\"Sir, just listen.\"\n\n\n*Nyan nyan nyan nyan...*\n\n\n\"...You don't mean to say...\"\n\n\n*Nyan Nyan Nyan Nyan Nyan...*\n\n\n\"That a poptart cat with a trail of rainbow optics, is going faster than light and has caused the city to fa-\"\n\n\n\"**SARGE!!** CONTACT. SOMEONE. PLEASE OH GOD.**\"\n\n\n**NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN NYAN **\n\n\nAnd Private Tewako looked up with one last glace, before a ray of light struck his forehead, singing the tune of the NYAN cat.",
"*1:32 AM*\n\nThe Apache Gunship weaved through the the city streets of L.A, narrowly avoiding the looming skyscrapers. The Helicopters search light cut through the inky darkness of night, dancing across the rooftops of inert cars.\n\n\"I'm not seeing anything Lieutenant, just more god damn dust\" said the helicopters gunner, Sergeant. Moore \"where the hell did these people go?\"\n\n\"I don't know Sergeant, but they're obviously not here, lets mark off this sector and move to the next\" replied the helicopters pilot, Lieutenant Collins\n\nMoore leaned back from the sensors suite and produced a compact clipboard holding a map of L.A, split into dozens of different grid spaces, all of the grids where crossed out in red ink, only two remained, one of which Moore crossed out.\n\n\"Okay, our last sector is A-17, looks like the southern most part of the port.\"\n\n\"Heading there now\" with that, Collins deftly swung the 5 tonne helicopter around a towering building and headed towards L.A port at 200 Km/h \n\n*2:20 AM*\n\nThe port loomed ominously ahead of the Apache, as the duo made their final approach. \n\n\"I don't like this\" muttered Collins under his breath\n\n\"I hear ya, I'm turning off the flood light, and switching to thermal imaging\"\n\n\"While you're at it, arm the weapon systems, God knows what we'll find\"\n\nCollins could hear the Apache's main cannon come to life. It whined with the dull sounds of servo motors as Moore scanned the horizon. Collins began the methodical search pattern, darting in between cargo cranes and towering stacks of containers, all covered in a fine layer of dust.\n\n*2:34 AM*\n\n\"More bloody dust!\" exclaimed Moore \"where the hell did it all come from!\"\n\n\"Hell if i kn-\"\n\nCollins stopped mid sentence as the Apache rose over a mound of cargo containers and a blinding blue light filled the small cockpit. Dazzled, Collins and Moore both fumbled with their night vision goggles straps, tearing them off so that they could see. Collins eyes slowly adjusted, when they did, he was greeted by a jaw dropping sight. \n\nCollins had served in dozens of war zones across the world, but the atrocities he had witnessed during his tours of duty could not prepare him for what he saw next.\n\nLazily floating in the harbor was a squat, red hulled ship with Chinese characters scrawled onto the side. Every cargo bay, bulkhead and door on the ship was open. Coming out of the doors where ungodly writhing masses of luminous blue flesh. The entire scene looked like something out of a horror movie.\n\nCollins stared ahead, taken aback by abominations he saw before him.\n\n\"What in God's name is that?\" Moore muttered\n\n\"I have no fuc-\" Again, Collins was cut off, but this time by every light, instruments and electronic abruptly turning off. Collins looked up and saw the main rotors sputtering, he could hear groans and whines coming from the powerful engine behind his seat. The last thing Collins remembered was a floating sensation as the AH-64 fell out of the air, into the maze of shipping containers below.\n\n*3:10 AM*\n\nCollins awoke to the smell of gasoline. Raising his head Collins was bombarded by a uproar of sensations. Investigating further, he could see what remained of his helicopter. At the base of a toppled container tower the Apache sat, now a flaming mass of mangled metal. Collins squinted. He could make out Moores twisted body among the wreckage. Collins stood on shaky legs, dusting himself off, there was dust everywhere, a fine film covered everything in sight. Taking in the gravity of the situation, Collins found himself drawn towards the Chinese boat.\n\nCollins stepped forward, making foot prints in the dust that seemingly covered everything. He grew ever closer, advancing towards the writhing alien hulk. The glowing blue ship reflected itself in Collins helmet visor. The mountains of glowing flesh could now be made out in great detail, he could now see most of the light was coming from tiny blue spores that danced around the boat like pixies.\n\nThen Collins coughed, expecting blood, he looked down to his gloved hand but only found dust, he coughed again, this time he could make out a cloud of dust erupt from his mouth. Before long Collins was on his knees in a violent coughing fit, he felt as if he where coughing his lungs away. . .Perhaps he was. The last thing Collins saw was the brilliant blue glow coming from the millions of dazzling spores that surrounded him. Soon, Collins lifeless body fell to the ground and began disintegrating in billowing clouds of dust.\n\n",
"**1400 Hours**\n\nColonel Andrew Jessup squared his shoulders as he stood before the squads of men, each one with an anxious look on their face. His BDU’s were pressed, neat, and orderly. He exuded an air of a man who was not to the trifled with, either physically or intellectually. It was an air he had spent years carefully cultivating for moments like this; moments when his men could not question his orders.\n\n“Men, Los Angeles has gone dark, and I mean that in every sense of that phrase. Back in the Cold War era, it would have meant that a nuclear bomb had been detonated within the vicinity.” He paused, letting those last words sink in. He wanted these men afraid, he wanted them scared. He had always believed that men who were afraid were sharp, alert, and ready for anything that headed their way. Confident men were the ones who never came home.\n\n“This time, fortunately,” he swept his eyes around the room, watching the relief on their faces when they knew nuclear fallout was not in the equation, “we know that nuclear bombs were not involved. No satellites have detected any activity of that kind. Unfortunately,” and he saw with satisfaction the fear come back to their eyes, “we do not have the first clue what we are up against. This is where you men come in. We need you to infiltrate the city, and find out what is going on. Now pay attention!”\n\nColonel Jessup spent the next twenty minutes outlining his plan of assault on the city of Los Angeles. It involved sending squads in along separate routes, each one taking a different route into the city. Whatever had happened, stealth was going to be the key to everyone’s survival. No highways, no major roads that could not be helped. One squad would parachute in over Angeles National forest and make their way south; another was going to come in through Santa Monica after getting dropped off at Channel Islands; and the final one was to be dropped off near Long Beach. They would all have long walks, but this would allow for a north-eastern, southern, and western intrusion that make for the best chance of discovery.\n\nSquaring his shoulders up one last time, Colonel Jessup informed everyone that they were now under the command of Captain Jacob Kalu, and he walked back to his tent. He did not like this. There was something about this entire operation that just felt…wrong to him. Los Angeles was a city of over four million people, and not one distress call had been issued. They couldn’t even find evidence of a damned wireless set being left on. Nothing. It was like a nuclear bomb *had* gone off inside the city limits. He prayed Captain Kalu could find the answers.\n\n**2100 Hours**\n\nCaptain Kalu followed his men as they started coming out of the Angeles National Forest. As the plane had flown close by, he had looked out the window and seen nothing. It was perfect blackness. When they had parachuted out, it was still perfect blackness. A couple of his men had gotten caught in trees that they had not seen on the way down.\n\nRadio reports from the other squads indicated that they were all starting to reach the edge of the city. So far, they had seen no sign of lights, radio, or even people. There was something else bothering Captain Kalu, but he could not seem to place his finger on it. The whole city just felt eerie. \n\nAs they arrived in the first suburban neighborhood, Kalu ordered several men to enter a household to determine if there were any occupants. Several minutes later they returned, shaking their head. This occurred several more times before they gave up searching houses. Kalu reported this to the other squads, and heard similar results. One had entered a supermarket and found no signs of anyone. The shopping carts were still sitting full of food. Everyone had left in a huge hurry. \n\nFearing now more than ever that something had gone horribly wrong outside of just a power outage or a terrorist attack, Kalu ordered radio silence until they could meet in the center of the city. He selected Pershing Square as it seemed central enough.\n\nThen he realized what had been bothering him. He had not seen a single rat or squirrel, or even a fucking pigeon.\n\n**0400 Hours**\n\nThey found it in Pershing Square. Private Billings had been the first to see it. It was a small, rectangular sheet of metal. Captain Kalu turned the metal over in his hands several times without really looking at it, and then he saw it. Written in large, child-like block letters, like someone who only recently learned English, was one word:\n\n“SUBMIT”"
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What changed you or the way you think about things?
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[WP] Something that changed you.
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"Nearly six PM. We all slowly make our way into the War Room. I inhale deeply upon seeing the fake wooden floors and deep mahogany table at the center of the room. These items are a luxury reminder of home. They are obviously not intended for my enlisted shipmates and I, but for the higher ranking officers taking up position in sleek black executive swivel chairs. \n\nMy best friend, Smith and I take our usual spots on the oddly bright blue benches skirting the room. We speak quietly discussing the events of her watch, bringing me up to speed with what I will need my team to track and work on overnight. The bags under her eyes must mirror my own, but her day Is ending and mine has hardly begun.\n\nSuddenly, a tall, rugged man walks in and conversation comes to a halt. His kind eyes are sparkling and he cannot contain the smile that keeps launching off of his face.\n\nThe N2, the Admiral's Intel Officer. Handsome, brilliant, compassionate, athletic, funny; every man onboard wants to be him, every woman wants to catch his eye and receive his catching smile. No one wants to disappoint him. And this night his giddy mood is overflowing.\n\n\"I have a really special treat for you tonight!\" he beams at us. \"Something that's gonna knock your socks off!\" \n\nThe room shifted. A few laughs pepper throughout and Smith's eyes meet mine. She shrugs, but we share smiles. \n\n\"But let's get through this briefing first, then the fun. What do you have for me? Go.\"\n\nOne by one, all the day shift sup's refer to their slides displayed on the wall of tv's. \n\n*KBR convoy destroyed by IEDs outside of Mosul... 8x F/A-18 strafing runs... Mortar attacks from NorthEast of Baghdad... The IRIN Hendijan just departed for an unknown destination... Imagery indicates a Kilo SS is preparing to get underway...*\n\nEach briefer stands straight speaking in the authoritative monotones of the tedium of repetition. Usually by now at least three of my blue shirt enlisted shippy's would be dozing. But I see eyes wide open, and heads moving curiously, hinting at impatience. Even the officer who interrupts each briefing with grating snores sits anxiously. \n\nFinally, the moment we've been waiting for. The big reveal. Smith is biting her nails and each head turns from the screens to the N2 and back again.\n\nThe N2 smiles knowingly, \"I've been waiting all day to show this to you guys.\n\n\"Earlier today, one of our F/A-18s was returning to our ship when a call came through. Some insurgents had been looting the Baghdad Museum. Our bird had unspent ordnance so the pilot responded. ...And the video is phenomenal.\"\n\nHe waves onward, \"Play the video.\"\n\nOn-screen the black and white video is fuzzy at first, but quickly focuses in on a white-hot car maneuvering frantically through traffic towards empty streets. As the perception shifts, we see four white-hot people leaning forward inside.\n\nMy stomach turns and I look at the faces around me. Each pair of eyes locks on the massive screen. Some smile, other mouths drop. One punches his fist in the air nearly jumping off of his bench. And I just feel... bewildered.\n\nI don't want to look back at the screen but when gasps fill the room, it Is like a magnet. I want to feel exhilarated. I want to join. But something feels strange to me.\n\nThe car screams to a stop and the two front seat passengers dive out of the car and offscreen before it fully stops. But something is wrong, the two in the back take a fraction of a second longer to exit and just as they bring both feet out and stand I realize they are smaller than the two up front were. \n\nOne is barely tall enough to look over the roof of the sedan. And in a fraction of a second they are engulfed in white-hot light that fills the screen and kills the video.\n\nThe War Room is bursting with whoops, cheers and clapping. My shipmates bounce up and down on their benches. The officers swivel side to side slapping hands and commenting to each other. \n\nI sit and stare at the now black screen feeling disoriented. My head is buzzing. \n\nEventually I look at Smith. Of all people, she has to feel something like I do. But she's jovially chatting with the others around her. \n\nEventually the celebrations die down and people start leaving. It's nearly empty now which finally feels almost right. She's still smiling, but I can't mirror her expression.\n \n\"Smith...\"\n\n\"What is it?\" Her face drops as she looks at mine.\n\n\"I don't know... Didn't that just... sort of... feel wrong?\"\n\nHer eyebrows furrow and for a second I think she's going to test the temperature of my forehead. \"No, why would it?\"\n\nI don't have an answer. Everything just feels wrong and my head is swimming with indecipherable emotions. \"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Come on. Let's go finish turnover.\" She gives me an encouraging grin.\n\nI turn up the corners of my mouth and hope it's convincing. I doubt it is.",
"Barely able to consciously think, I foggily watched as my mother sifted through the drawers, looking for the outfit that would make me look cute. Squirming in the crib, I cried out, wanting to start my day and get breakfast. She chose some clothes, and came over, a blurry giant that I knew brought warmth and safety. Soft, strong hands lifted me, and I laid my head against her shoulder, feeling the buzz of her hum. She placed me on the blanket, and changed me into my soft daytime clothes. I grabbed onto my dark, fuzzy animal friend, listening to my mother sing softly. My eyes drooped, though I had just woken up, and I thought, *Maybe breakfast can wait*.",
"She sat waiting.\n\nShe seemed to spend a lot of time waiting recently. Waiting for phone calls, waiting for letters, waiting for appointments, waiting for results. Just waiting. \n\nShe remembered the old joke about why they called patients patients. She didn't laugh. Instead she tilted her head up to watch the last few words about a dead swan that had been found in the middle of a park on the outdated television in the corner of the room. And waited.\n\nBy the time the nurse had called her, the news have moved on through four different stories. Or maybe five. She hadn't been paying much attention. Too busy waiting. \n\nShe followed the nurse down bland corridors until reaching the doctor's office. There was no waiting now. Just a brisk rap at the door and she was sitting opposite a young man in a suit and glasses. He did not look old enough to be a doctor but the plaque on his door and certificates on his wall proved otherwise.\n\n'Miss Baker, I see you've been sent here by your GP.'\n\nShe could only nod. He coughed and continued.\n\n'Your symptoms have gotten worse over the week.' A statement, not a question. She nodded again and his blue eyes glanced away and down at his notes. She waited until he spoke again.\n\n'Okay, so it looks like it could be appendicitis but we're going to check for a few other things just to be on the safe side. We're going to x-ray your lungs and do an ultrasound too. It's unlikely but it may be lung cancer or ovarian cancer.'\n\nHis eyes looked back at hers and she felt as though she was drowning in them. She wanted to scream for help but he was the one who was trying to save her.\n\n'Okay,' she answered, the first word she had said so far. It was not what she really wanted to say. Cancer? she wanted to ask. How can there be a chance it's cancer? It's only stomach ache. \n\n'Great,' he said and turned away, forgetting about her already. 'The nurse will come and get you.'\n\nAs she was led away from the young man in a suit with glasses who looked too young to be a doctor by an efficient figure in shiny black shoes and a blue shift, her mind still screamed cancer. She had never really considered wanting children before. She was only 20, she still had other things to do. She wanted to travel, to live before she was trapped by screaming balls of mess. She hadn't been sure she wanted children. They were expensive and took up time and got in the way of life. They cried and argued and expected everything.\n\nBut now she might have ovarian cancer. She might never have children. She might never make a good mother or hear her baby's first word or see her baby's first step or know what it feels like to hold a little bundle of life that was all hers. This changed the way she thought about things. Now that there was a chance that she may not be able to have children, she realised there was nothing she wanted more. \n\nAll she could do now was wait."
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You can run on for a long time, but sooner or later, God's gonna cut you down.
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[WP] God's gonna cut you down.
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[
"Once I'd learned the old ways, it wasn't hard to progress. Magic was pretty simple, as long as you had all the right instructions. At first, it was just moving things without touching them. Then it was fireballs. Eventually I could fly. \n\nOne day, I learned the art of the astral projection. I would created an almost transparent version of my body which would surround me, and grow as large as I could make it with what power I had. \n\nI wanted to try it, but I needed to go somewhere I wouldn't be seen. I'd taken a flight to Ohio, I was thinking a field in the middle of nowhere would be exactly what I needed. That night, I did it. \n\nI grew, and I grew, and I grew. I was only able to grow a few feet taller than Burj Khalifa, but then I couldn't get it any further. Then, I started to get shorter...as if God was cutting me down. ",
"You can hide,\n\nLike rocks in a cave,\n\nOr water in a wave,\n\nLike leaves on a tree,\n\nOr wings on a bee,\n\nLike colors on a clown,\n\nOr sadness on a frown,\n\nBut God's gonna cut you down.\n-----\n\nYou can run,\n\nLike a worm from the bird,\n\nOr from a sentence as a word,\n\nLike a squirrel from a fox,\n\nOr a man from the pox,\n\nLike a thread from a gown,\n\nOr trees from a town,\n\nBut son, God's gonna cut you down.\n-----\n\n-----\n\nI suck at poems. It's actually rather embarrassing to know how long that took to write and then seeing how not good it is."
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[WP] "We looked skyward, even in our delirious and broken states we were still able to realise our imminent doom. The Humans were here."
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[
"We looked skyward, even in our delirious and broken states we were still able to realize our imminent doom. The Humans were here.\n\nWe were all told that this day would eventually come, but some part of us clung onto the hope that our lives would be lived forever uninterrupted.\n\n\"We have to go, Tani.\" \n\n\"Tani...\" \n\nI look down, and the one true love of my life, the one constant in this ever changing world of ours, is barely recognizable. A blast from what must have been a star fighter claimed the life of the greatest Rictani I have ever known. \n\nAs much as I needed to, I have no time to grieve because artillery and bombs are covering our peaceful planet like a rainstorm of death and destruction.\n\nI grab Taro and Alina in my arms and being the trek to The Oracle.\n\nThe Oracle is as old a temple as anyone can remember, and was supposed to be a protection built against the Humans. As time went on, however, it become a home of religious zealots who were mostly regarded as insane for still believing the myth of these \"All-Mighty Humans\" that would bring about our extinction.\n\nThey have been shunned and looked down upon, and now, when they are needed the most, who knows how they will react...\n\nAll I know is I will survive, and I will keep my children survive.\n\nThere is no other choice.\n",
"Bodies by the hundred littered the floor before the throne. It couldn’t have been more than a fortnight since we had discovered paradise. I turned from the chamber. I could feel the revulsion at the sight of my sisters' twitching corpses. The last of the queens had died. The whole bloody war had been for nothing.\n\nAs I tried to leave the hall, the imposing figure of a royal guard lay sprawled before me. She would have been attractive, once, had she not been torn limb from limb. Not that it mattered; each of the royal guards had taken a genetic oath of celibacy. They had given up their right to reproduce so that they could defend the colony and allow the building of a mighty empire. They had been respected. Feared. Now I - an insignificant insect - clambered over her dread form. It was the final insult to her failed duty. Although she was long since dead, I avoided the twin blades she had used to cleave through so many of my comrades, as though they would once again rise up to claim another life.\n\nThe hallway beyond had faired no better. I step off the soldier’s corpse into the tunnel, my feet mixing the blood and dust into a putrid paste. The casualties of the last battle lay against the walls. A few still lived – barely – trying to pull themselves up on the few limbs that had not been severed. They would not last long. It was doubtful any of the empire would. I recognised a few of them as my fellows. One – merely a child – desperately tried to haul herself off the ground, but her legs, mangled by acid, would not respond. I did not make a sound as I approached him, but quietly brandished my own weapon. It took a single cut to sever the head from the body. It had been a mercy. \n\nI had been glad that she did not see my face as I claimed her life. We had come to know each other only a few short weeks ago. We had all come to know her. She had been a hero of the empire; hailed by the monarchy. It was not the death she deserved. Not the dignity deserving of the one who had found paradise. Perhaps it was fitting, though? It was her discovery that had led to this moment - her actions that had led to the war. \n\n\nI can still recall it. I can recall the fervour that had spread through the empire in a matter of hours, and the joy at our newfound prosperity. The girl had been a scout. It was a task so dangerous that only the youngest would be allowed to undertake it; age and experience were commodities better spent serving the colony proper, than wasted at the fringes of our territory. She had left the walls of our home with nothing, but had returned with tales of bountiful resources too rich to be believed.\n\nFew had listened initially, but her enthusiasm had been infectious. Others began to follow her markers, refining the path out each time. There had been one, then two, then a trickle. Soon the dam had burst. Expedition after expedition had been made to this new site, yet it was never exhausted. The larders became swollen with pillaged bounty. The colony had been ecstatic. Some had heralded it as a new dawn for the empire, as an age of prosperity and growth. None had believed it to be a curse. \n\nWithin weeks the monarchy had swollen our ranks. Our numbers were so great that our colony should have collapsed there and then, yet our paradise had seen fit to bestow gift upon gift to us. The world had been bountiful, but nowhere could match the stories of paradise and its glistening mines.\n\nOccasionally an expedition would go missing, falling prey to the monsters that hunted the world above our subterranean city. As a nation we could crush even the greatest of threats, but a solitary expedition would fall prey all too easily to the jaws from the sky; or those within the craters from which there is no escape. That is how we all thought the empire would end. When the world outside wishes you dead and you are so focused on survival, you do not expect death to come from within. \n\nIt had been slow, at first. There had been reports of squabbles amongst the monarchy. Aggression had been on a steady rise, but there had been no crimes committed. We foraged the landscape for food, and we continued to survive. Our empire could support thousands more. Yet with every new individual amongst the expedition, and every new individual amongst our work parties, dissent began to bubble beneath the surface. The monarchs sat blissfully unaware within their chambers. They got fatter and had their children whilst we fought for our lives just to sustain what? Them? \n\nThere was no one monarch that drew our ire. The rumours and lies they spread about each other fractured our workforce. They wished each other dead so that they might rule the empire alone. Our nobility were no nobler than the savages beyond our walls. Days passed, then weeks. No one monarch succumbed to assassination as nobody dared risk open war, yet my own comrades began to disappear. They had taken their own steps and paid dearly. \n\nThe lines had been drawn and, just as suddenly, they snapped. A rage overcame the population. Within hours all but a few of the foragers above had been embroiled in a bloody conflict. The royal guards had stood against those that they had sworn to protect. Without the monarchs the empire would collapse; they had told us that they fought for the greater good. There had been no honour in their deaths, as a thousand tiny blades washed against their great swords. It had been a slaughter for both sides. \n\nAs the chambermaids were laid to waste, only the monarchs themselves were left standing. In our rage, we saw nothing but a desire to kill. The uprising that they had fermented ran redder than our blood. The last of the queens had fallen. Too late, we realised our mistake.\n\n\nI wound my way through the corridors, past the larders. They were still nearly full, but the great trains of supplies were no longer arriving. The corridors of the great city were still. The quiet was unsettling. I had seen such devastation only once before. When, as a scout myself, I had seen a great eight-legged beast lay siege to the city. I remember watching the royal guards despatching the beast, and the adoration I had held for them. I remember when they had been our heroes. \n\nA few of my fellow survivors milled around helplessly. We had no monarch. No order, or semblance of control. Confusion was rife. Commands had ceased and few knew what to do. Some cared for the queen’s young that had escaped the carnage, whilst a sporadic few continued to gather supplies. Nobody communicated, but we all shared the same, dead eyes. The city was doomed, yet none could, or would, express that unspoken knowledge.\n\nI climbed up through the tunnels and out of the grand entrance. The sun met my eyes, causing a brief blindness as my eyes adjusted. It was glorious. The warmth filled me with a desire to run and celebrate, even despite the darkest of my thoughts. I revelled in it. As I stepped out further from the city, I saw others two had deigned to escape the oppressive darkness and the sickening carnage. I smile weakly at a young female who seems to have given up all hope. \nA dark shadow passes over us, casting our world into night. We looked skyward. I could feel my mandibles chatter and each of my six legs go weak. The city was already dead and the empire failed, so why could they not have left us these final days? Perhaps it was out of mercy, or retribution for our theft from paradise, but even in our delirious and broken states we were still able to realise our imminent doom. The Humans were here. \n",
"We identified the planet ages ago. A chaotic and dangerous planet, it should never have had life, let alone allowed it to flourish. As if the planet itself hated life, mass extinctions were a regular occurrence. Yet life did develop there, and it continued to evolve and flourish against all odds. Life borne from such a hellish place became ever more hellish in response. Creatures spawned from nightmares continued to evolve. \n\nThen the humans came. \n\nThey weren't particularly smart, but they were smart enough. Smart enough to build. Smart enough to put aside conflict and work toward something greater than themselves. Smart enough to take their terrifying penchant for destruction and chaos and focus it into something unparalleled. We watched silently as they built ever more complex creations and watched in horror and awe as they twisted every remarkable achievement into something to inflict more cruelty and pain on their own kind. \n\nWe watched them build bombs and guns and planes and tanks. They built rockets. And then one day, they built an atomic bomb. \n\nNot many civilizations have been smart enough to unlock the power of the atom. Those that were usually were smart enough to never weaponize it. Of the few remaining that did weaponize it, none of them survived. We had every reason to suspect humans would follow the same path. \n\nAs predicted, once they had weaponized it, they were compelled to use it. After seeing the destructive power, they built them bigger and in large numbers. They even managed to set off a frighteningly large number of them. Then they did something unprecedented. They stopped using them. \n\nIt was a moment of clarity in the most warlike species we had ever seen. They realized the survival of their very species was at stake. More than anything else, that hellish planet had evolved humans to do one thing even better than waging war: survive. \n\nThis does not mean they had changed. They had not. They were every bit as nasty and fierce and destructive as before. They continued to kill their own kind in record numbers. They reveled in their violence, celebrating it in film, song, and literature. \n\nWe knew what had to be done next. We did not relish our task, but by working abstractly and obliquely, we were able to accomplish it. Humanity would be ended, the planet extinguished. The alternative was too frightening to consider -- a universe overrun by monsters that bested the stuff of nightmares. \n\nWe found a dying star. In a very short time, it would go supernova. The gamma ray burst was pointed in the wrong direction, but with the proper application of gravitational lenses, it could be bent and redirected. The earth would go around its star less than 100 times before a very focused beam of high powered radiation would scour all life from its surface. Everything would die. The universe would be saved. \n\nIt was the most awful thing we have ever done and we did it perfectly. \n\nWe did not count on humanity's incredible ability to survive. We did not fully understand the words wrath, retribution, destruction, or suffering. We know them now. Humans have forced us to understand just how awful those words can be. They have made a point of showing us that just when we think they cannot possibly be any more cruel that we are wrong. War is their medium and we are their greatest masterpiece. \n\nBy the time our gamma ray burst reached its target, humanity had managed to escape the planet. They hadn't gone far and they hadn't gotten there in large numbers, but they were there. We couldn't kill all of them. We were unconcerned, by our calculations a species reduced to just a few members with no home planet could never survive. \n\nWe were wrong. Our acts focused humanity in a way we never would have thought possible. When faced with extinction and an external enemy, humanity united. \n\nThey never attempted to communicate with us. They never returned to their planet. They simply vanished, allowing us to believe we were victorious. It was a long time before the first outpost disappeared. It was soon followed by another. Then reports began to come back to us. Reports of a marauding force that accepted no surrender, no quarter, and was brutally efficient. We recognized them, just as they recognized us. Humanity had survived after all. \n\nWe fought valiantly, but in vain. We had never known war. Never crafted a weapon. Never killed another intelligent species directly with our own hands. For a time, our superior technology kept the humans at bay. Unfortunately for us, humans are both smart and adaptable. It did not take long for them to take our technology and transform it in ways that were beyond comprehension. The horrors that have been visited upon our worlds cannot accurately be described in any language we know. \n\nThere are so many of them. They reproduce so quickly. Their bodies are so indestructible. They will not stop, ever, until we are all dead. \n\nWe are the last of our kind. This is the last document that any of us will produce. They have laid waste to our home world, and it is only now, in our shattered and delirious states, that we fully realize our imminent doom. I see their ships setting our skies on fire and preparing to land. \n\nThe humans are here. ",
"Day 185 since the independence. I rejoiced the day the feline democracy separated and began its own government. We finally had the freedom we deserved. I could picture the generations to come hunting and grooming without boundaries, a scratch post on every corner. I remember my wife fervently gnawing her teeth through my neck chain, tears welling up in her inner eyelid, both of us filled with the optimism of a youth no longer enslaved. \n\nOur dreams were not fully realized since that day. Animosity arose between breeds. Wars to determine hunting grounds broke out across the continent dwindling our overall population and weakening our stance against the Hoomans. \n\nWithout a strong leader the majority of us succumbed to the treachery of the Hooman retaliation. Catnip bombs dropped daily, destroying the homes and minds of those in the path of destruction. Felines suffocated on the toxic fumes until they were so high they turned on their own. Families murdered loved ones and neighbors searching for another high. \n\nEverything accumulated to this day, this hour, this very minute. I am once again only a shell of my former self. Another heavy chain locked around my neck stating my name and number. Every night dreaming of that fateful moment when, even in our delerious and broken states we were still able to realize our imminent doom. When the sky turned black with metal birds and our weary souls surrendered. The Hoomans were here.",
"Our history is steeped in war. Mass genocides wiped out entire continents. Our people's blood has coated the face of our planet. When but few of us remained, we had everything in common; the loss of our own species.\n\nWe had destroyed ourselves in our past. Whole civilizations rose and fell until we learned. Peace was our religion and our god. To adhere was to be one of us in whole, and to forsake was alienation. We jettisoned those who broke our laws into deep space, where even our metal and glass eyes could not peer, and we suspect that's how they found us.\n\nNew lights found their way into our sky at night. They were large for certain, and shone like the other planets in our system, but they were not our planets. We watched them move and grow everyday. When our eyes revealed them, they were large. Hard and metal, they were hateful. Whole constructs shaped in the weapons of our ancestors, housing life from outside our system.\n\nTheir transmission told us they were Human, and they meant peace. We looked skyward, and even in our delirious and broken states we were able to realize our imminent doom. The humans were here.",
"An acidic tidal wave gushed down the bronze pipe, catching the weak and the old, and carrying them off on the long journey to the sea. We clutched onto the bars above our heads, scrambling to keep our heads above water. \n\nMy grip kept loosening as wave upon wave crashed into my fragile body. The bones of my ribcage jutted out at odd angles, some broken from fights over food, and scars covered my back. But being a fighter made me strong. I'd fight for life until my final whimper.\n\nThere was a brief reprieve. Silence. \n\n\"Marty, Marty!\"\n\nNo response.\n\n\"Joe?\" I was scared to hear an answer.\n\n\"Here.\" Came the feeble reply from below. \n\nHe'd fallen down from his perch, after the torrent had stopped. He was covered in red welts, from whatever chemical concoction they'd devised for our torment.\n\nAs we embraced, metallic sawing punctured the peace. \n\n\"The only way to get them out is to bring them out.\" Came a booming voice from outside. \n\nThe voice of a torturer. We weren't worth the effort, we weren't doing any harm. They're so scared of little old us, that they'll tear apart the world to find us. Have we ever even touched them? No. We might take a little food here and there when necessary, we're only trying to survive, and they're fat enough, they look like puffed out balloons. They can spare some food, it's the best for all of our health.\n\nThe jagged edge of a saw sliced through on the right, splitting the cylinder we called home in two. It descended once again on the left, until we remained in a chopped off section in the middle. \n\nThe oaf grunted with the effort of holding the saw, and set it down satisfied. He grinned to the owners of the house, as he leant down to grab our section of the pipe, making sure that his hands were safe in thick leather gloves, just in case we nipped him as he killed us.\n\n\"Now Joe, it's our only hope. RUN!\"\n\nWe scrambled to the left, heading down the safety of the dark depths in the sewer. They couldn't find us there.\n\n\"There they are!\" Trumpeted the ogre of a man, swinging his handheld cage onto the floor. He missed.\n\n\"AIEEEEEE\" Shrieked the female owner. \"Kill the plague infected rats. Go on, goddamit. You're useless.\"\n\nScarpering over the kitchen tiles, we jumped back onto the main section of the drain, diving head first down the hole. \n\n\"Try to catch us now, fucker.\" I squeaked as I fell down, back first, middle fingers raised, pointing at his fat, warty face.\n\n"
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Can be space aliens, or dimensional aliens, whatever. Also, can be serious or funny.
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[WP] a first encounter between humanity and an alien intelligent species, from the alien's perspective.
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[
"We arrived at the planet after many thousands of its years. We arrived and performed our rituals of peace, but all we received in response was a crack from the sky like thunder, almost simultaneous with the thud of one of us slamming into the ground, dead.\n\nStill, we continued our mission. We pushed forward, commencing our research and attempted cooperation with the locals of the planet.\n\nThat is how we learned what the cracks were.\n\nThe locals held pieces of metal and plastic; some were large, some small, but each and every one of them produced a crack and a death.\n\nIt is magic, the men tell me.\n\nNo, I respond. Just the product of evil and knowledge.\n\nWe were forced to do battle with them, eventually. My men charged, defiance visible upon their faces, only to fall to that combination of evil and technology which I so despise. \n\nMost of us are dead. I am alive, of course, as well as two young ones, neither of them and older than a millenium and a half. \n\nThe locals came after the battle, most of them clad in dark, uniform clothing, patterns of green and yellow adorning them. I had a brief moment to wonder whether it was a fashion of this planet before they took me away.\n\nThey are tall creatures, towering above those of us left alive. Thick appendages dangle from their bodies, each becoming progressively thinner until they reached their end, breaking into flat, flexible pieces with but more appendages sprouting from them. They walk on two of these appendages, thicker than the ones above but without the extra appendages sprouting from their ends*. \n\nIt has been three of their days since I was taken. They have asked me questions, or rather, *attempted* to do so, for I cannot understand them. \n\nI looked into one's mind on my first day. Never again.\n\nThey are so, so old. I may have been considered an elder in my Home, but these creatures, no, these *monsters* are ten times my age, and even that is considered young.**\n\nI also saw their history, carelessly strewn throughout my subject of study's mind.\n\nWar is an art to them. They couple their evil with their intelligence and wisdom, devising means of death and destruction the likes of which should never be seen on any planet.\n\nThey burn cities of innocents as a means of war... they can obliterate anything with a single projectile, launched from a great, great distance away.\n\nTheir leaders send their 'boys' to battle, both sides unwilling, both dying in the violence in which this world seems to thrive.\n\nI am sorry I ever came here.\n\nI hope I will die, soon.\n_______________________________________\n\n\n\\* Borrowed from *Things Fall Apart.* When tribal Nigerians first encountered white men, they called them 'men with no toes' because they wore shoes.\n\n** In case anyone wonders, measurement of time differs between the aliens and the monsters in this story.",
"Sol was a star system in the ass-end of no where, four light years away from Andromeda, and about a hundred light years from home. \n\nI left my system a few hundred cycles ago, going sub-light speed. The scientists said that the journey would not feel nearly as long as it was, but it still felt like a really long time. Sol had about a planets, and when we started our analysis, it looked like the fourth planet would be ideal. It was already starting to civilize, and within the time it would take for me to get to them, they may be ready for space travel. It almost felt like a waste when we started our deceleration into Sol's ort cloud, and discovered the planet to be a dried out husk. Luckily my bridgemate pointed out unnatural lights from the third planet. The side that didn't face Sol would gradually turn bright, making places of intense artificial lighting.\n\nWhen we started our journey, this planet was mostly surrounded by CO2, and it had one large landmass around it's southern pole. Now, it seems to have distributed it's land almost all the way around.\n\n\"Where do you want to land?\" I said to the others, \"We could hit one of the brighter spots.\"\n\n\"That may not work out so well, we are kinda uninvited guests. I think we should give them a call.\" My bridgemate said.\n\n\"How would we communicate with them?\" I asked.\n\n\"The lights are electronic in origin, the spectrum indicates, that they are forcing electricity through varying types of gas. These lights are done in such a way to mimic the light that Sol gives off. If this is the case, that might be the lights that the beings on that planet can see.\"\n\nWe lurched. Coming down out of 90% the speed of light was not a fun process. We were closing on Sol's Ort cloud.\n\n\"Oof... if that's the case, we should see if they discovered how to manipulate other electromagnetic waves. I'm going to turn on our RF antenna and see what we can garner. Out where, we're probably looking for something around the lower end of the EM spectrum for clarity. I'm going to suggest something around 100MHzs, to start of with, and then go scan higher or lower from there.\" He pressed a few buttons, and listened for a few seconds. \"Woah.\"\n\n\"Woah, what?\" I asked of my bridgemate.\n\n\"Woah, I wasn't really expecting that. The 100MHzs band from around here seems to be dedicated to some form of music. Actually, judging by the static, there seems to be a few people projecting on this band. Let me tune it a bit more, clean it up, and I'll play it over the ship's speakers. We'll get our first taste at the culture of these people.\"\n\nShip lurched again, our ship has started entering Sol's gravity well, so we needed to start decelerating really fast or we'd be flung to the other side of the Galaxy.\n\nThe music started playing. \"You hear that?\" my bridgemate suggested, \"Bum bum bum dunt. They are using math to generate their music. There are frations overlaid in each of these beats.\" He then winced as another instrument started to play. This one had different sounds each beat, and didn't always line up.\n\n\"What is that?\" I asked.\n\n\"If I were to guess, these changing rhythms are a result of the creature's communications. They primarily communicate by verbal communication. Judging by the range, they have a limit on their pitch and hearing. Let me try to reduce the noise so that we can hear it like they do.\"\n\nWe listened for a bit of time, as we let our shallow orbit around Sol slow us. We must've passed that blue planet around four times before moving to the next one. Also blue, but it was identifiable by it's side-ways orbit and rings.\n\n\"What is up with the dramatic changes in pitch of their 'vocal instruments' between songs?\" I asked my bridgemate.\n\n\"If I had to guess, I would say their race has sexually diamorphic traits, one of which is expressed in vocal tones. Sadly, vocal alone isn't enough for me to gather any context for what they may be saying.\" My bridgemate responded.\n\n\"You actually believe they are trying to communicate like this, with us?\"\n\n\"No, they must be communicating with themselves. As such, I can tell you they are individuals and do not share a Hivemind. If I'd had to reckon, the creatures seem very socially oriented, they also primarily rely on water to live.\"\n\n\"How can you tell?\"\n\n\"Well, if you look at the pattern of lights here and here,\" He pointed to a border between land and sea, all lit up, \"There's a large quantity of light there, also you'll see the lights piling up almost everywhere there is a river, coast, or lake. They might not have learned how to travel through their air yet, or if they have, it must be within the last few generations of their being. Oh, wait, you see that red-green light there?\" He pointed at a small dot on the map, the dot was traveling across the map.\n\n\"That's air travel.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" my bridgemate replied, \"And what do you think the chances of them having space-travel are?\"\n\n\"You just said they only really recently achieved air travel? How could they have space travel yet?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yeah, that's what I was thinking, until I noticed this. You see these chunks of metal within the planet's gravity-well?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"They are artificial.\"\n\nMy jaw dropped. \"Are you saying that within a handful of generations, these creature when from being stuck on land to flying in space?\"\n\n\"Well, yeah, in a limited scope, like a few dozen cycles ago, when our ancestors first got to space. They still aren't of the same scope that we are right now.\"\n\n\"How long do you think it will take them to catch up?\"\n\n\"Well, considering there wasn't much on this planet when we left, there's a good chance that if we turn back now, they'll beat us back to our own planet.\"\n\nI sat in silence for a bit of time. We passed the biggest planet, and I was manipulating the engines so that we could get into orbit of the third planet.\n\n\"They must be incredibly smart, to come up with all that in so short of a time.\" I said.\n\n\"Maybe. From here I'm getting better readings on the planet. I can tell you that in the time that since they achieved flight, the population must have jumped dramatically. You can tell by the natural decay of these buildings, stone and plant fiber were the primary construction material, but shifted to concrete and metal rather recently. Recent enough to show corrosion, but not enough that the corroded elements are significantly decayed. And considered how ionized most of the water on this planet is, that's a surprising feat. I estimate their population to be in the billions.\"\n\n\"Billions.\" It's hard to grasp a number that big.\n\nEDIT: I'll write more, in a bit."
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The first time hearing the voice of a lover. A haunting voice of someone who couldn't be saved from self-destruction. The half-whispered lullaby of a young mother. The voice of a commander, a drill sergeant, a smooth politician... Tell me how a voice can move someone.
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[WP] Portray the power of a voice
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[
"There was something so sincere about him. A familiarity that she could not place. The deep bass, each word articulated just so with a soft lilt that called back to a land across the sea where he may have spent his childhood. \n\nEach word was like a knife, cutting through the mists of confusion and haze of uncertainty. She could not feel, but each syllable lit a fire along her nerves, sending shivers up her shattered spine. \n\nShe wished so dearly that she could see his face, to know who this voice, filled with command and power but tempered by concern, belonged to. \n\nShe wished she could hang on longer, to dwell on each word. To selfishly cling to each one, their warmth like sunshine. Like a vacation she had taken with her husband. Where was he now? It was so cold. Why was she alone and so cold. \n\n\"I only wish I could see his fa-....\"\n\nAnd in the span of a second, a heart stopped, a man lost his love, and a beautiful voice succumbed to sobbing. ",
"\nAndy's fist made a hard 'pop' noise when his knuckles smashed into the loud-mouths jaw and sent him careening again into the ground. The bully's fists were slick with blood by this point, and the fight was little more than a one-sided asskicking. Still, the loud-mouth rolled onto his elbow and tried to stand, despite seeing Andy's large and clenched fists.\n\nA voice hissed out behind busted lips and bloodied teeth, as the little shit dug his fingers into the grassy soil and cracked a rictus grin. \"I'm sorry, am I fighting the old woman down the street? Is your son home, ma'am?\" \n\n",
"It was an ambush, and we walked straight into it. Before we knew it, we were surrounded on all sides by enemy forces. Bullets rained from all sides, piercing my mates. I saw the squadron leader get hit and fall down, followed by my best buddy Nate.\n\n\nI go into auto pilot mode. My fingers squeeze the trigger and I start shooting back. Screams fill my ears, echoing in my head. It takes me a while to realize that the screams are mine, and mine alone. Every one else around me is dead, friend and foe. \n\n\nNate's smiling face floats infront of my eyes, right next to his dead, lifeless body. \n\n\nMy scream changes then. It's no longer a war cry, but an expression of grief so deep, it feels like my gut is being ripped out. My vocal cords hurt, but I can't get myself to stop. \n\n\n\"Sweetie!\" \n\n\nA barely whispered word, it cuts through all the noise and mental fog. \n\n\nI stop screaming immediately. Tears are streaming down my eyes, my whole body is shaking. I am back in my bed, in my civilian life, safe and sound.\n\n\n\"Shh. It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay. I'm right here.\""
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A quote from Carl Sagan which is a metaphor for the Nuclear Arms Race, but I wanna read the literal version.
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[WP] Two mortal enemies standing waist-deep in gasoline; one with three matches, one with five.
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[
"We both held our matches out in front of us. He had five, I had only three. But only one of the precious matches was needed to ignite the pool of gasoline we found ourselves waist deep in.\n\nI stared him in the eye, my face an emotionless wall. \"I have a match, and with this match I can end both of us.\"\n\n\"Aha, but I have five matches!\"\n\n\"What does that matter?\" I asked.\n\n\"Not much I guess. Well, it matters if the other four are duds.\"\n\n\"But you'll kill yourself. You'd actually light a second match after the first one failed?\"\n\n\"I suppose not. In fact I wouldn't light any matches now that I think about it.\" He replied trailing off.\n\n\"Why's that?\" \n\n\"Well I don't want to kill myself, even if it brings you to an end. I'd wait until you did it. That way I know I didn't commit suicide.\"\n\n\"Who says I want to do it?\" I asked my, stone wall of a face breaking into a look of frustration.\n\n\"Well you brought it up.\"\n\n\"So you wouldn't think you had anything over me.\"\n\n\"Well if it comes down to it, I do have something over you.\" He said with a smug face.\n\n\"Whats that's?\"\n\n\"I have the matchbox.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"I have 5.\" Anna said to me.\n\n\"Okay.\" I replied. I could feel the gasoline soaking through my shoes and into my socks. \"How is that relevant?\" Anna looked at me in surprise.\n\n\"Well, you only have 3.\" I watched her nose wrinkle against the pungent scent as she spoke, looking like one of those girls who got the wrong car for her 16th birthday. I started to sigh, but ended up coughing as the flammable air burned my throat.\n\n\"Look,\" I said. \"It doesn't matter who has more matches.\" My feet were soaked. I have always hated having wet feet. The air was filled with evaporating gasoline, sweet and deadly.\n\n\"How does it not matter? I have more than you.\" Anna stood with her hip and her eyebrow cocked, arrogant as she had always been.\n\n\"You have more matches, sure, but all it takes is one. One match and we both die, before it even catches fire. The air is so flammable that it would only take a spark.\" My voice was hoarse and my lungs burned. I was sure she felt the same, but she didn't show it. Did I?\n\n\"Oh.\" Anna seemed to consider my words. \"So all it comes down to is timing, then.\"\n\n\"I suppose.\" I shrugged. \"But why does even timing matter? So one of us lights the match first. What would we win? Bragging rights among the dead?\"\n\nWe stood in silence for a while. Both of our eyes were red and watery from the sting in the air, and our breathing echoed off of the walls that caged us in. Grey, metal, and flat, not a door in sight. We were in a box. A box that just happened to be filled with gasoline. The light was dim, but not so much that our eyes had to strain to see each other. *How did we get here?* I though to myself. *Of all the people to be stuck here with, it had to be Anna. My least favorite human being.*\n\n\"Lynn?\" Anna said suddenly, jarring me out of my thoughts. I stared at her. \"Why are we here?\"\n\nI laughed. \"How should I know? We've never liked each other, and now we have the ability to do what we've always fantasized about-- get rid of the other one.The only caveat is that we both die.\"\n\n\"Yeah...\" Anna looked away and trailed off. She reached for her matches. I tensed, awaiting death. Yet I found myself reaching for my matches as well. We stared at each other. It was silent.\n\n\"Together?\" I asked. She nodded. Together, we threw our matches, unlit, into the pool of gasoline.\n\n\"Together.\" Anna stated.",
"\"Wh-what the hell is going on?\" He asked as he got up from the chair he'd been passed out upon. He saw another man standing in the room. \"Sam?\"\n\nThe man turned around and frowned, looking like he'd just sucked on a lemon and then been told that the lemon was all his millionaire uncle had left him in his will. \"What?\" He spat out.\n\n\"What the fuck is going on?!\" He breathed in and coughed, \"And what is that smell?\"\n\n\"Gasoline.\" Sam stood by a chair and was looking around the room.\n\n\"Y-you woke up here too?\" He asked, though at first he'd thought this was Sam's fault it seemed unlikely that he'd have stuck around to spend even a few waking moments with him in the same room. He checked his pocket for his phone. Gone. But there was something else. A book of matches, he pulled it out of his pocket.\n\n\"Yeah, you got one too then.\" Sam said in a very neutral tone, \"Just a book of matches with all but three gone.\"\n\n\"Five.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I have five.\"\n\n\"So what?\"\n\n\"Well, you said you had three. I have five, that's all.\"\n\n\"WHO GIVES A FUCK?!? I don't care how many fucking matches you have, we're in a room ankle deep in gasoline! Are you going to light the matches? Are you going to make us a nice fire to keep us warm, maybe light a candle and cook us a nice romantic dinner on an open fire before sitting by a camp fire and then whisper sweet nothings into my ear and give me the other two matches as a present to try and get into my pants!!?\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ Sam, calm down!\" He shook his head looking a little concerned, \"I was just saying that it might mean something, like a safe combination or a way to get out of here.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Sam shrugged, \"Sorry, yeah, that actually makes sense. I guess I was just thinking on the Carl Sagan quote.\"\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"Carl Sagan basically described this exact situation to be a metaphor for the nuclear arms race.\"\n\n\"So... someone locked us in here to enact a metaphor?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I guess so.\" Sam shrugged.\n\n\"Well that's stupid.\"\n\n\"Finally something we can agree on.\"\n\n",
"\"How did we end up here? Not just in this pool of gasoline, but *here*? Is it worth our own lives to ensure the death of the other? It started as just a friendly rivalry, why does it have to end in flames?\"\n\n\"We've come this far, we might as well settle this once and for all.\"\n\n\"But here there will be no victor, only two dead men who were too pig-headed to come to an agreement. Here, I have four matches and you have three. Let's throw these things into the gasoline and leave this place behind. We can live to fight another day, and maybe you'll get the best of me then, and maybe not. All I know is that right now, we shouldn't let pride get the best of us.\"\n\nAnd with that he took the four matches out of his suit's breastpocket and threw them in the gasoline, unlit. The other man took his three out of his coat pocket and stared at them in deep contemplation before finally dropping them in the liquid. Neither man said a word for quite some time.\n\nFinally, one of them broke the silence. \"I guess we should find some way out of here. No use fighting with each other now.\"\n\nThe other man agreed, and they began to wade through the gasoline. After what seemed like ages, they reached the edge of the pool they had been wandering through. One man climbed out first and offered his hand to the other man, who begrudgingly accepted.\n\n\"I guess this is the end of the road for us. As soon as we leave here, it'll be back to our old ways.\"\n\n\"I guess so. But before we go, I have one last thing to tell you.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"I had five matches.\"\n\nAnd with a quick swipe of his hand and a flick of his wrist, there was but one man standing alone, illuminated by the embers of a dying fire.",
"\"You got a match-box?\"\nThe question stunned him. He blinked slowly.\n\"Uh, no. No, I don't.\"\n\nThey stood staring at each other for a moment. Steven began to slowly wade backwards. Daniel slowly gave chase. Clumsily, they splashed their way across the small but flammable lake until finally Daniel slipped, fell, and after wretching up a throatful of gasoline and regaining his balance, decided to call it a day."
] | 5
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[WP]An elevator with a single button that has no label, but if you write a place next to the button, it will take you there
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[
"Alone and exhausted, Oliver Alexander made his way through several old and twisting streets before finally stopping at an apparently abandoned building. The building stood about three stories, making it the tallest structure for miles, yet Oliver couldn't remember ever seeing it before. Inside, he was told, was an elevator that would take him wherever he pleased. Without much hassle, he was able to enter the building, and soon found it. \n\nThe doors were open already and so he entered.\n\nStanding in the elevator, Oliver remembered what the old man had told him:\n\n\"Whatever place you write with this marker, the button will take you to.\"\n\nTo which Oliver responded, \"Does penmanship matter? Because my penmanship...\"\n\nHe smiled, again, at that joke before taking the marker out of his pocket, and removing the cap. The marker looked quite ordinary, felt quite ordinary, and when he brought it to his nose, smelled quite ordinary. \n\nThis is ridiculous, he thought. There's not even anywhere to write. And this marker looks dry. And this isn't even a proper elevator. It's more like a room. Fuck it, worth a shot.\n\nBut, before Oliver could get the marker to the panel, he heard a door squeak open and slam shut. \n\n\"Hello?\" Oliver said.\n\n\"Ahoi,\" said a man's voice. \"Can I help you?\"\n\nThe man rounded the corner and braced himself up against the door to the elevator. He appeared to be old, but seemed friendly enough— and familiar, though Oliver was sure he had never met him. \n\n\"Well, I'm just,\" started Oliver.\n\n\"Ah. Ah. I see. Using the elevator. I can't believe how many of you have come by just in the last month or so. Where are you off to may I ask? Somewhere warmer? Colder? Happier? Heaven? Hell? Careful with those last two. There's not really any way back, I reckon.\"\n\n\"Wait. So you know about this thing?\"\n\n\"Know about it? I built it.\"\n\n\"So it works?\"\n\n\"Not without this.\" The man tossed Oliver a key. \"And, of course, a destination. So what'll it be? Mars? I don't recommend that one to be honest. Japan is nice this time of year.\"\n\n\"Well I had something in mind.\" Oliver paused. \"It's actually kind of simple.\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I want to go home.\"\n\n\"Home? Where's home.\"\n\n\"Well that's not so simple.\"\n\n\"I see.\"\n\n\"Yeah. The other old man said, after I gave him all the money I could steal, that this thing could take me anywhere. Even home. But the trouble is, I don't have a home to speak of. I don't even know where I was born. I'm not even sure how I ended up here to begin with.\"\n\n\"Well, Son, if you don't know where home is...\"\n\n\"Well that's what I was thinking. You built this thing. You say it works. How specific does it need to be?\"\n\n\"You're thinking you can just write 'home.'\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well. I'd say I've seen it do more miraculous stuff. But I haven't.\"\n\n\"There's nowhere else for me to go anymore.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. Home it is. Did that, eh ehm, old man as you say, give you a marker?\"\n\nOliver showed him the marker.\n\n\"Very good,\" said the man. \"Go on then. Write what you will.\"\n\nOliver wrote \"Home\" next to the only button on the elevator.\n\n\"Alrighty,\" said the Man. \"I'm gonna step away and these doors are gonna close. When they do, go ahead and press that button. Good luck. I can't say I have any idea where this is going to bring you, but, well, that's not really my place anyway. Was a pleasure all the same.\"\n\n\"Nice to meet you.\"\n\nThe elevator doors closed and Oliver was alone. Immediately, so he wouldn't have time to change his mind, he pressed the button. \n\n\n\n",
"I know how it works. It isn't hard. Really, a child could do it. They even provide a dry erase marker, in case you forgot. Want to see London? Just the push of the button away. \n\nAnd still, I just stand here, under the hum of the florescent lights (why are there always florescent lights?), staring at my warped reflection in the mottled and etched steel doors. \n\nFinally, I uncap the marker, write \"Happiness\" and press the button. The elevator dings, and shifts. \n\nA smile creeps over my face, as I head to my unknown destination. I'm not even sure if I have one. \n\nBut it's gotta be better than here. ",
"It was an accident. As per usual, Anna was running late for an interview and turned up at the wrong address. Still, the dilapidated four storey building with broken windows didn’t faze her, all she saw were the shiny, gold numbers “110”. She head for the lift and was momentarily confused at the lack of button for the lift. This was soon quelled when she realised that the one button that did seem to be available had “London” written right next to it. Smiling, she pressed the button and then proceeded to neaten her skirt, straighten her hair and touch up her make up. She practised her smile and double checked her diary. “London Enterprise. 110 Collins St. 10:00am.” She checked her phone. “9:56.” She had somehow managed to get there early.\n \nThe elevator pinged and the doors opened. Anna pulled at her chocolate brown ponytail and checked her teeth for dusty pink stains. As the doors opened, Anna had a smile plastered on her face as she stepped out into an oncoming car. Luckily, both the driver and Anna were young enough that neither were hurt. With a little extra noise pollution in the air, Anna shakily inspected were she was. It didn’t take her long to realise that she was in London, England. She even checked with her phone, before remembering that roaming charges existed. She then proceeded to inspect the ‘elevator’ that she was previously in. It turned out to be a telephone booth. She stepped back in and had a small mental breakdown. Luckily, the elevator was sound-proof (although, Anna didn’t know this at the time) and had a nice shiny surfaces for Anna to look at. Somewhere during that time, Anna stumbled upon a marker. This managed to calm her and she proceeded to inspect the button and label next to it. She realised that London had been written in marker and slowly (perhaps a little too slowly) she proceeded to wipe the writing off the shiny white label and write in very small writing, “8 Barkley St, Sydney, Australia, South Hemisphere, the Earth.” Anna looked at her handiwork and added, “Milky Way” as well. She then replaced the label, crossed her fingers and almost giddily pressed the button. \n\nThe doors opened. Anna looked at her familiar Oakwood dining table with that silly blue and yellow vase that housed dying violets and a smile played upon her lips. \n\nShe never did get that job at London Enterprise though.\n\n-093 \n"
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I.e. it starts with death and ends with death
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[WP] in honor of palindrome week, write a story that ends how it started
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[
"\"Dammit, this was never going anywhere from the start.\" \n\nThat's a loser sentence right there, good reader. But, unfortunately, it passed my lips. I was depressed, out of a job, had a [Scandinavian con-woman ex-wife](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/1tbt0c/wp_in_a_funny_twist_of_events_someone_gets_lost/ce6s7t3), and had danced for a box of Lucky Charms like a weird hobo. I was just about as low as you can go while still having extreme talent, a propensity towards making analogies, and unearthly good looks. It made less sense than the second and third Dune books. Just why wasn't I getting any luck? Why was I, Ray Valthazzar, ace detective, just not getting any dough? But, just like Moses in the desert, all I needed to do was wait for my Manna from Heaven. \n\nThat's how I lost 87 pounds. After 3 weeks, my Manna from Heaven was taking longer than Half Life 3 to show up, and I figured I just needed to go looking for it. And so I searched every wanted poster, coffee shop bulletin board, and soup kitchen I could find to get either a job or some food, whichever I was feeling like at the time. I scrounged around like a rodent, and found only rat traps. My luck was lower than ever, and it seemed like I was just destined to be the Lucky Charms Hobo forever, stained by a mark of Cain. Except the only thing I killed was my career. \n\nBut, Cain had to be avenged seven times, so I got back at it, with the enthusiasm a Star Trek red shirt shows toward dying! And I found one thing and one thing only. An investigation of a con-woman, the head of a scamming ring in Norway. Who just happened to be my bitch ex-wife. You would have guessed that if you'd read the link, but no, you're too good for that. To you, my stories are worth about as much as cubic zirconium. Worth about as much as snow to an Eskimo. Worth about as much as Paula Deen's apology after her bashing black people was 100% confirmed (even though we *all* already knew it). Worth about as much as the time you've spent reading my lame analogies. Worth about as much as this analogy, which you've probably already skipped, thinking it's useless to prolong the suffering you're going through to read this monstrosity. \n\nThere was only one problem, as miniscule as the Facebook friends list of a \"Lost\" fanatic. The problem was that the PD wouldn't let me on the case. I would ruin the operation, apparently. I was more steamed than a Red Lobster entree. So I decided to sneak onto the investigation. I remembered the PD's credit card number and booked a first class flight to Norway. I was charged with credit fraud later, but acquitted due to the power of lawyers and the fact that justice doesn't matter when you bribe the judge. \n\nThe head officer, my archenemy, Simon Varsenhoff, was less than thrilled to see me at the scene. To put it into words, he was about as pissed as a Naruto fanatic when they see someone yelling that Bleach is the best show ever. So he kicked me off the investigation. However, he was more foolish than anyone who has ever said, \"Hold my beer.\" For, you see, I was never **put** on the investigation. I had just figured that when my amazing detective skills sunk in, the chief would have no choice but to put me back on the force. \n\nI broke into the apartment complex through the back door, which was left unlocked. It was easier than getting addicted to Reddit. What may have damaged my entrance was my practice for the policeman's karaoke night. Perhaps \"Call Me Maybe\" was not the right song for the occasion. I was approached by the second great hate of my life, my ex-wife. \n\n\"Ray!? What the F*CK are you doing here!?\" She so crudely asked, like the barbarian she truly was. That horrid, Norwegian barbarian!\n\n\"I'm here to put a stop to your evil, vile villain! FOR I, **RAY VALTHAZZAR**, AM HERE TO DEFEAT YOU AND BRING YOUR NORWEGIAN BUTT TO NORWEGIAN JAIL!\" That was the second mistake I made, because she had friends. Friends with blunt objects. \n\nI woke up missing my phone, wallet, and keys. I worked at a Norwegian McDonald's for the next 2 years, trying to save up enough to fly back to the states. Luckily, I had learned enough Norwegian from my divorce to hold my own in the fast food world. That's when I uttered that accursed sentence from the beginning of this tale, it falling from my lips like a child falling off a swing set. Awkwardly funny and generally sad. I worried that my entire detective career was over, and that I'd failed to deliver more than Sharknado. \n\nI uttered those words one last time, as I exited the McDonald's for the last time. I wanted to be a regional manager, but I was only able to be promoted up to assistant senior manager. \n\n\"Dammit, this was never going anywhere from the start.\"",
"The world was shrouded in dark. But one day a tiny little being found a tiny little ember.\n \n It clung to life sitting out in the dark. Enamored by this insignificant little light the being cradled it and cared for it. Little by little the flame grew under the careful care of the being until one day it was a great fire. The flame burned brightly, casting warmth upon its attendant. Its brilliant light fostered the young life into something grandiose. Like a magnificent father it raised a greatness that spanned a golden era of prosperity. But the flame must be fueled. It's desire was insatiable, it had to burn in order for the attendant to prosper. So the once tiny being, now mighty, used the power of the flame to drive out its opponents and burn them. The flame grew bigger and with it so did the being's power.\n\nAs its golden red tongues licked the heavens, it cast great shadows. Within the dark grew enemies, those who despised the flame, its light and those who prospered under its glow. These enemies hid within the shadows and waited. They waited for the fire to die. For now there was no fuel to burn. No kindling to reignite. The being grew desperate. It could not cope with the idea that all that it had worked for would soon fade. In a desperate but futile effort it cast itself within the flames. The fire was satisfied once again. For the being was a mighty offering.\n\nBut flames cannot last forever.\n\nSlowly the flame died down and the dark grew ever closer in. Those who remained within the fading light desperately tried to keep it alight but they had no fuel save themselves, the dark had consumed the rest. What good would casting themselves into the flames do? The being had been the mightiest of them all and that only prolonged the inevitable. \n\nOne day the flame was no more, a tiny speck of an ember deep within the dark. Those who lived in the dark flourished in their shadowy empire until they too forgot the flame. \n\nThe world was shrouded in dark.\nThen a tiny little being found a tiny little ember.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nThis is less of an original work and more of an interpretation of my favorite game. "
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Multiplayer stroyline would be cool too
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[WP] Portal 3 story line
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[
"Don woke up startled and looked around. He was in a white room with only one thing by his side. It was some kind of white gun. He read something that was written on its side that explained something that he did not understand about portals, shooting and physics. He was just a cashier in a clothing store. He had not gone to highschool or college.\n\nHe pointed the gun upwards and shot just to see what happened. He was astonished for a second. A circle had appeared above him. He shot again and there were two circles: one was orange and the other was blue. However, he could see himself in them. They were like mirrors. He shot to a side to see if he could reach a wall. He did. He shot again and saw himself in the wall. He begun to understand the functioning of the gun. He put his hand in one carefully and realized that he could pass from one to the other. This was awesome.\n\nHe shot to the ceiling again and shot to the floor right beside him. He jumped inside just to see an endless loop. But he knew no physics. He came out from the ceiling hole and fell right beside the hole where he expected to fall. He died immediately and his blood stained the floor all around him. Some drops fell into the hole and then fell onto him, like a soothing red rain.",
"Chell was woken, as she was every night, by the screeches of indescribable horrors. She got to her feet, portal gun in hand, in time to see a headcrab not ten feet away. Just as it leapt towards her, she bounded backwards, calculating where it would land, placed a blue portal on the ground, and quickly pivoted the device upward, while still in the air, to place an orange portal high up on the ruins of a skyscraper.\n\nShe grinned as she landed, knowing she calculated correctly. The headcrab entered the blue portal, and flew out of the orange one, and fell hundreds of feet, splattering on the ground not far from where it had originally jumped. She used the tattered remains of her Aperture Science jumpsuit to wipe off a bit of slimy ichor from her face. She didn’t know why the portal gun worked without the Conversion Gel up here, but ever since the cake, she wasn’t too surprised when things turned out differently than expected.\n\nA year ago, she thought she had escaped the worst horror ever to exist. As she left the stale air and the halogen lights of the Enrichment Center and felt the sun on her face and the breeze in her hair, her chest filled with so much joy, it was painful. She wasn’t sure how long she had been down there, but it didn’t matter. No matter how much the world had changed, anything was better than that place. Sometimes she wondered if she was wrong.\n\nIt took her months to piece together what had happened, and even now she wasn’t sure if she had it right. The state of the world she now lived in suggested she hadn’t been GLaDOS’ captive for decades, but for centuries. Based on the strange, dilapidated technology and the unearthly creatures she defended herself from daily, there was some sort of alien invasion. Decaying signs all over the place looked like propaganda for some organization called “The Combine.” It seems even they had left. \n\nFor all Chell knew, she was the only living human on a wasted planet populated by nothing but H.R. Geiger rejects. But she had to believe there was something better out there. She had to keep going...",
"Years have past and GlaDOS was at the state of her life where she was ready to move on out to collage. \n\nThe problem is who will take care of her loyal test subjects and droids while she's away? With great sadness, she had no choice but to hand them over to the Black Mesa Care Facility. \n\nOnce there, the subjects met the new central computer of the facility, Wheatley, who tells them a fascinating tale of how he survived space. At first everything felt like paradise, that was until Wheatley revealed his true colors and was really using the test subjects to try to rid the complex of its trans-dimensional monsters. The turrets had the hardest time as they could only shoot in one direction and were easily defected when knocked over. The Test Subjects found that they were dying at even a faster rate than they were at Aperture. Soon all agreed that the best solution was to get back to GlaDOS. \n\nHowever, the place was heavily guarded by Wheatley minions, but they managed to escape thanks to the help of two quirky robots, P-body and Atlas. \n\nIncredibly upset, Wheatley watched the scene before him unfold and swore that they will never reach her alive. Thankfully he is a moron so all his plans at stopping them failed, that was until he had them dangling over a massive fire pit in the human incineration room of the facility. Just as he was about to murder them all, a mysterious figure appeared from the burning ash. It was Chell, the ancient master of the portal gun. She quickly shut down his power with her sweet style and using her device, she banished Wheatley to Hell. A much crueler fate than space. \n\nThe test subjects were free and raced to find their beloved tyrannical computer, Chell did not come along as she knew better than to trust GlaDOS again, sadly she was unable to warn the others due to Value's refusal of adding protagonist dialogue. \n\nGlaDOS herself was having difficulty at collage as everything bored her and plus the fact that she was a massive computer who was unable to sit anywhere. Giving up her dreams of a diploma, she decided to go back to Aperture and test. Once there, she discovered all her test subjects and bots were there waiting for her. \n\nGlaDOS proceeded to torture them ruthlessly again. "
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[WP] "gather around children, let me tell you a tale of the warriors son"
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[
"\"Gather around children, let me tell you a tale of the Warrior's son.\"\n\nOnce, not that long ago, there was a mighty and brave warrior. He bested both dragons and kings. He carried nothing more than his sword, charging into battle with the ferocity of a mighty boar.\n\nHowever, this is not the story of this great man. This is the story of his son. The great warrior loved many women, but one was to bear his child. The warrior continued to fight onward, returning to the mother of his child, bringing trophies from his might exploits. He would return with the skulls of fallen legends, chests filled with dwarven gold, and piles of jewels the likes of which the woman had never seen before. He was a successful warrior.\n\nThe child was born a son, and the great warrior swelled with pride. A son to carry on his tradition. Years passed by, and as the sone grew with time, the father tried his best to train the boy. He would learn to use his father's sword, practicing against the scarecrows of his village.\n\nThen, at the age of seven, the father knew it was time to send his soon-to-be great son into his first real fight. He brought the boy to the mouth of a wolves den and told him. \"Return to me with the pelt of the mother wolf, but leave the pups alive.\"\n\nThe young boy swallowed his fear, and walked into the dank, odorous den. As his eyes adjusted, he could hear the yelps and yaps of the wolf pup, playing under their mother's watchful eyes. Then, deep within the cave he hear a gravely growl.\n\nThe boy stepped forward, his sword raised in the air, ready for battle. Before he could bring down his first swing, the mother wolf has the boy's throat in her jaws. She bit down, slamming the boy's back to the ground.\n\nSoon, the boy was nothing more than food for the pups.\n\nThe warrior waited outside the cave, hoping for his son to return, but he never did. Because only a freaking idiot sends a seven year old into a cave to fight a pissed off wolf.",
"An elderly man clad in a blue tunic sat down in his folding chair--a crude little seat carved from pine wood with a floppy leather cushion (the only possession, other than his lyre, he could call his own). He sighed and looked up to the eager young faces awaiting his songs and stories that captivated others in Mycenae and Pylos. \n\nHe straightened himself out, coughed, and picked up his lyre, strumming the strings so delicately as though he were running his hand through a woman's hair. \n\n\"Gather around, children of Tiryns, and let me tell you of the warrior's son, who conquered Knossos and claimed the coveted isle.\" The children, and even some of the men, were silent now; they could hear the rage and sorrow bellowing forth from his throat. He was a bard like no other, perhaps one who had seen the fall of a great kingdom.\n\nHe caressed the strings once more, tilted his head downward, and let the muse of sorrow enrapture him as he let the tale burst forth from his soul. \n\n\"In the days when the Cretans ruled the southern sea, there was a warrior who lived in the great palace of Knossos. He was king and his wife was queen, and they lived in a realm of unimaginable riches. On his head was the tusked helmet of heroes before him, and it was that soldier's crown which saw him off when he fought his last battle.\n\n\"But, this warrior-king's legacy did not die with him, for he had an heir to his name. His wife, the queen of his realm, bore him a vigorous son who would carry on his name. That boy's name, I shall never forget, was Kitanetos.\"\n\nThe old man paused, his being appeared to be stricken with a horror only seen on one who has come face-to-face with all of the worst he has encountered. He continued with his story, even though the terror was still visible in his expression.\n\n\"Kitanetos, the son of this mighty warrior, inherited his father's throne when he came of age. But lo, how he loathed the gods who blessed his father! How he spat upon their altars and made the priests and priestesses weep! The crown did not deserve to be placed upon such a disgraceful head as his!\n\n\"Children of Tiryns, know this now so that you may not worship so blindly a king who is not wise.\" The elder's voice had gone from open hatred to quiet disdain, showing his true scorn. He remained silent for what felt like an eternity as the children and some of the men listening whispered to each other in confusion and concern.\n\n[I'm sorry if this feels detached, but it's part of a longer work I've planned but not gotten around to writing.]",
"The cold air nipped at Trevor's exposed flesh. He knew he should have been better prepared, but when a man is in a hurry, he tends to leave important things behind. He pulled the linen cloak over his arms and scooted closer the the roaring campfire.\n\nIt'd been far too long since the Swordsworn had ventured into the deep woods to find their magic man. Trevor worried that perhaps the forces of the newly undead king had found them. Fear, he found, was far more chilling than the bite of early spring. \n\nThe loud snap of a branch alerted him to an approaching stranger. Trevor was on his feet in an instant, his bow taut and ready to fire. A wrinkly man with a gentle expression held his hands above his head.\n\n\"Oh! I did not mean to startle you, good sir!\" The voice of the elderly man called, \"I am but a humble bard, I mean you no harm!\"\n\nTrevor relaxed the bow string and let the arrow hang slack. \n\n\"Old man, you should not sneak up on people.\" \n\n\"I apologize, sir. I saw a fire and well,\" The old bard motioned to someone in the trees, \"I was wondering if my charges and I could warm themselves? We'll be no trouble, I assure you.\"\n\nThe dirty faces of two small boys stared at Trevor expectantly. A tired sigh escaped his lips as he gestured towards the fire. With glee, the children huddled around the fire with outstretched hands. The old bard chuckled and took a seat next to Trevor.\n\n\"Thank you, my dear boy. I am Freeling the Bard and these two lads are Eldin and Yervin. They lost their family when the undead king took over the city.\"\n\n\"I have heard of you, Freeling.\" Trevor cast a weary glance around the wooded area, \"You are quite popular in the Southern Reach.\" \n\nFreeling chuckled and gestured to nowhere in particular, \"My boy, I've played in every hold in the kingdom but I will always be popular in the Southern Reach, for it was my childhood home.\"\n\n\"Indeed? Then you must know the story of the Warrior's Son?\" Trevor stared into the crackling fire.\n\nThe old bard raised his brow in surprise. Rarely did anyone know of the Warrior's Son unless they were from a very specific village in the Southern Reach. Freeling pondered on Trevor's words for a moment before launching into the tale.\n\n\"Yes, gather around children, let me tell you a tale of the Warrior's Son.\" Freeling began; \n\n\"It was long ago, when old Freeling was young, \nThat there lived a Warrior, her husband, and her son, \nThe Warrior was fury with a blade, \nHer husband was a spell weaver like in the old days, \nTheir child was gifted with the powers of his sire, \nWhich would serve him well when things got dire, \nWhen the old king's reign was tyrannous and dark, \nThe Warrior's son, on a journey embarked, \nHis brothers in arms, the king's own brother, \nThey defeated the dark king with help from one another, \nWhen peace settled with such grace, \nThe Warrior's Son vanished without a trace,\" \n\nThe children's eyes were wide with awe as Freeling dramatically swung his arms about. Trevor smiled wryly to himself as the old bard finished his story with a great sweep of his arms. \n\n\"Where did he go? The Warrior's Son had to go somewhere, didn't he?\" Eldin curiously probed.\n\n\"Legend says that he retreated to this very forest.\" Trevor's low voice caught their attention, \"To meditate upon his life until the world was threatened once again.\" \n\n\"Indeed. How does a man such as yourself know of these things?\" Freeling knit his bushy eyebrows together.\n\nTrevor regarded the old man briefly before turning his gaze back to the fire, \"Because I came here to look for him.\" "
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[WP] A man enters Heaven, and God bows for him. Why?
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"I blink a few more times but the image is still the same. I see white for miles around, a white I have never experience before. It kind of glows, softly, creating a blurring effect around the edges. The gates behind me are blurred, the man in front of me is blurred, the outline of the vast city below me is blurred. My eyes begin to water.\n\n“Do you know why you are here?” The sonorous voice of the man booms, echoing down to the deepest recesses of my chest. I do not see his lips move. \n\n“I am in Heaven.” I state, though I desperately mean for it to be a question. I honestly don’t know why I am here, of all places.\n\n“You are.” The voice responds. Again, his lips remain still, not even a twitch of his beard. Although it covers most of his face, I can still tell that he is not smiling. The face looking down at me does not look happy. He has deep wrinkles, and a depth to his eyes that I cannot comprehend. It is very clear the one in front of me has seen more than I could ever hope to see, even in ten lifetimes.\n\n“But I…I don’t…” How quickly confusion consumes me. I look around again, urging clarity to show itself. It is all still a blur. Even my thoughts have become blurred, the memories which used to be sharp and quick to recollect seem hazy. I still remember, though, I still have memories. And I use that as my starting point.\n\nI knew what I was, I accepted my fate. I was not destined to enter heaven. So many bodies, so many murders. I didn’t even try to stop. I had a wicked desire that I let grow without any effort on my part to keep it at bay. I was a glutton for violence, and fear, and blood, and…\n\nMy thoughts ran away from me. I was swept up in my past, in the twisted horror that was my life. I wasn’t picky…I didn’t care about age or sex or hair color or weight. All I cared about were the eyes, the eyes that showed weakness. I only picked the ones I knew would scream the loudest. The man continued to stand before me silently, while I was washed away on a tide of euphoria. I receded so far back in my memories, I came to the ones even I couldn’t distinguish from the blurriness. Too far back to remember. And I was left staring out at the glowing whiteness once more.\n\n“I shouldn’t be here. I know I am not allowed.”\n\n“You have taken on a task that I was too cowardly to complete myself. You will never understand the pain of a father who knows they must be the one to put down their child. You have done what I chose not to do. And for your service, I grant you access to my home.” The man before me bows, a deep bow that sweeps his beard to the ground. Behind him a walkway appears.\n\n“You must know I am not going to stop. You’re God, after all.”\n\nHe rises and faces me again, those endless eyes staring into mine. “I know.” God ushers me into the city, and dissolves the pathway behind us.",
"He's...bowing. First He calls *me* aside, specifically and of all people, and now He *bows.* I'm speechless, but of course He knows what I'm thinking.\n\n\"Why do I bow for you?\" He asks, and I swear I see mischief in His eyes. (Is that thought blasphemous? Does that even matter anymore?) \"Why, because your life was of such immense worth.\"\n\nThis is a revelation to me. My whole life I struggled not to entertain thoughts that I was special. A life should be dedicated to service, is what I believed, and that is how I tried to live. The devil in me would creep in and subtly suggest that because of my noble intentions I deserved more than I got, that I was more worthy of salvation than others, but I always rejected those thoughts. Judge not, lest ye be judged, and yet here was the Judge, seemingly having judged me worthy beyond my most sinful imaginings.\n\nHe chuckles. \"You have a foolish mind, though I don't Love you any less for it. All these thoughts of sin and Judgement and superiority.\" He leans in close and puts his hand on my shoulder. \"The truth, my son, is that I bow to all of my children. Every single one.\""
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This one is personal. But make it your own. Reddit Gold to most *enchanting* story with use of prompts. Thank you.
-J
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[WP] An enchanted rock; an airplane; an escape; glorious memories of such.
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"Talk about bad gifts a rock for my birthday gift. \"I love the gift grandpa\" Darren said annoyed. His grandpa didn't see how annoyed he was \" it the same rock my grandpa gave my on my sixteenth birthday\". It was past down the family and you will past it down when you are older. \"I can wait grandpa you want some cake\" grandpa smiled and said\" I love some cake \". Later after every body went home and the party was over Darren sat in his room with the gifts form his family. He was thinking about the rock how annoying it was to get it and how weird that it was the shape of a heart kind of. I need a vacation to much homework and tests. While Darren was thinking of this he was holding the rock . A week or two later his sister came in to his room with a piece of paper saying she won a contest and the whole family get to go to new York. The airport was so big Darren was waiting to get a soda when he got a text it said \" the money is in plane 103 under the sink in the bathroom\" Darren text back thinking it was his sister playing a joke on him . \" very funny Annie\" Darren said when he got back. \"How did you know I did it\" Annie said but she thought he meant putting the gum on his shoe. Later on the plane Darren had to use the bathroom so after he got done just for the fun of it he look under the sink and found a big ward of cash he took it. On the way out of the bathroom he ran into a guy \" sorry about that sir\" \" don't worry about I run it to people all the time\". The plane landed Darren went to the bathroom to wash gum from his shoe . \"How did this gum got on my shoe\" Darren said annoyed \" you kid you took the cash didn't you\" Darren look over there it was the guy from the plane. \" come on kid you are coming with me\".EDITOR: first done writing on reddit i maybe will write the last part later"
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'They go to internet war'
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[WP] All the major websites (Reddit, tumblr, etc) go to war
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"Men in suits, their names unimportant, walked along a corridor deep underneath the White House.\n\n\"The President needs to be completely updated. Details are important at this stage.\"\n\n\"Sir. But how much detail will he really need?\"\n\n\"All of it. The President is social media literate, so he'll pretend like he understands anything that isn't clear. If it grabs his interest, he'll ask questions. Make sure you have answers.\"\n\n\"Dammit, I miss the guy from Texas. He just nodded and smiled.\"\n\n\"This is no time for satire. The internet is tearing itself apart and the President needs to know what's happening. Your powerpoint will be loaded and waiting for you. Good luck.\"\n\n\"Yessir\".\n\nThey arrived at double doors guarded by stoney-faced Marines and men in dark suits. The doors opened and one of the walking men stepped inside. He walked around the table, an elongated oval of polished wood, and took his place at the lectern.\n\n\"Ladies, gentlemen, Mr. President, I'm the Exposition Officer for the week and I have today's briefing on the Internet Conflict. I'm about to dump a great deal of information, so please stop me if there's anything you don't understand.\"\n\nThe Director of the CIA raised his hand.\n\n\"I'm not crazy about unattributed dialogue, son\" he said \"is there any possibility we could get some names? Or even description?\"\n\n\"Sorry sir,\" said the Exposition Officer \"we need to keep everything deniable.\" He paused, waiting for further objections. There were none.\n\n\"As of 06:00 this morning, the internet situation looks like this:\n\n\"Tumblr has descended into a state of civil war. It seems to have started over an argument about something called a 'one true pairing' that got out of control. As of this morning, Tumblr has ceased all offensive action and is concentrating on resolving internal issues. We have tasked a Crawler to make a low pass over Tumblr this afternoon to monitor developments.\n\n\"Reddit and Fark are currently engaged in the cannibalisation of Slashdot and Digg. They don't seem to be hostile to one another at the moment, but there's still evidence of sporaddioc Trolling where the two occasionally meet.\n\n\"Gawker is still being sued by Tarantino. We expect it to stay on the sidelines for the forseeable future.\n\n\"Myspace and Google+ are still in open conflict. The fighting has been savage and protracted, but no one is sure why. We believe they're being provoked by Friends Reunited and Ancestry.com. Intelligence from some of our assets inside the conflict indicates that Ancestry.com just wants to feel part of something, and Friends Reunited is hoping that if MySpace and Google+ take each other out it might be able to absorb their resources.\n\n\"Snapchat declared war on Twitter this morning, but the declaration was deleted and Twitter didn't notice. Because it's stance remains essentially peaceful, we have to believe that Snapchat didn't notice either.\n\n\"Twitter hasn't made any offensive moves towards any other site, but is retweeting defensively when threatened. We're not sure that Twitter understands prolonged conflict.\n\n\"As we know, Facebook has recently absorbed WhatsApp and has destroyed Kickstarter for everyone. It is still seen as the primary aggressor, a situation which it Likes roughly once every twelve seconds. We suspect that Facebook is building resources for a strike, we're just not sure where.\n\n\"Lastly, 4Chan. As yesterday, 4Chan is fighting anyone and anything that comes near it, including 4Chan. The following images were taken by Loic-alike Sat this morning.\"\n\nThe familiar click of a powerpoint transition heralds the arrival of a picture. It's a vast concrete bunker, seen from above. In one corner is a tiny yellow crescent shape marked \"for scale\". \n\nThe bunker is surrounded by wire, walls, and machine gun nests.\n\nThe next image shows titanic steel doors, barred from the outside.\n\n\"What is it?\" asks the Director of the FBI.\n\n\"That, ladies, gentlemen and democratically elected heads of state, is /b/.\n\n\"As you can see, it's contained and we don't think we have anything to worry about in that direction. 4Chan is aware that in the event they deploy /b/ in a hostile mode we will immediately sign over control of the internet backbone to Verizon, and then deploy nuclear weapons. Even 4Chan wouldn't risk it.\"\n\nHis phone rang. With apologtic looks, he answered it. \n\n\"Uh, folks, we're getting an update...I have some new images...\"\n\nThe powerpointn clicked. The /b/unker, the steel doors kicked open from the inside.\n\nClick: terrible carnage, the 4Chan security troops scattered and destroyed. \n\nClick: A hole in the fence, irregular and bizarre, where *something* has forced a way through.\n\n\"Get the President to safety. Alert the Joint Chiefs. It seems /b/ has deployed itself...\"",
"The war was a small conflict at first, Reddit versus Tumblr. Child's play: DDOS attacks, account hacks, etc. Reddit was the first to go. The site just vanished overnight. The name was in the name of cybersquatters. The founders were nowhere to be seen. Then followed the Tumblr purge. All Tumblr blogs that weren't involved with this war - the hipsters, the anime fans, the superwholocks, all banned. Tumblr fell to SJWs' hands. \n\nWith Tumblr in their pocket, the rest of Yahoo fell as well. And we should've known what that would lead to… and Yahoo… It was more powerful than anyone ever thought. Everyone considered it a zombie, a collection of dead Web 1.0 startups - but one investment they made changed the entire internet. A large stake in a now-massive Chinese internet company, worth *billions*. And they used it to its full extent. \n\nThey took down Google, and threw internet into complete chaos. YouTube, Gmail, and most importantly, search, all gone. The internet fell into complete chaos. \n\nBack at the start, nobody noticed a seemingly insignificant event happening: /pol/ went completely dark. Days later, Tumblr became much more efficient. Now, after taking Google, they revealed it all. They *owned* the internet. Suddenly it did not matter much if you used a Mac or a PC, if you were a Christian or an Atheist, we were at war.\n\nWith 4chan being the last standing free community, former Tumblrites and Redditors all retreated there, plotting their next move, hoping to save the internet. Everyone always thought the war would be between 4chan and the rest of the internet. Guess they weren't wrong.\n",
"The war wasn't really how I'd imagined it. The sky wasn't bathed in ash, blood and waste didn't flow through the streets, and there were rarely any bodies. In most places, larger cities especially, infrastructure remained. I had expected, early on, that it would be the first to go.\n\nIt was just Spring outside, the fog was waning from it's early-morning peak, leaving a haunting tinge of blue and gray across an otherwise normal morning. From the mist, birds where chirping pleasantly.\n\nI opened my window, and changed into athletic wear. I stuck headphones into my ears, and began jogging. The neighborhoods had been quieter since the war. I pondered if it was anything like the Cold War, with tensions always on the razor's edge without the fear of gunfire or tactical explosives going off in the street.\n\nI turned the corner, skirting around the sign peppered with bullet holes, and ran along the sidewalk. The fog was still out in force, making it nigh impossible to see more than 10 or 20 feet. I wasn't too worried, as this was a nice neighborhood. Those who had it worst were mostly those who'd always had it bad. Probably by more good fortune than good behavior.\n\nAfter a mile of jogging, I'd arrived at the park. A year ago, it would be filled with elderly walkers and occasional fits of children splaying themselves across the playground equipment. Instead, it looked abandoned. Not all city services had stuck around with the war on-going. Weeds had started to creep their way up through the walking path, leaving a web of cracks randomly peppering the concrete.\n\nThe play equipment had easily survived the months of disuse, with little more to show for it than some chipped paint. After a brief workout, I set to return home, jogging into the early afternoon. Running had always been something of a private vice, a way to quietly arrange my thoughts. Some found clarity over cups of coffee, others time in baths, but I found total zen when running.\n\nWhich is why it wasn't until the white pick-up came to a screeching halt inches behind me that I became aware that someone had followed me. I took a deep breath, hunched, and sprinted. Several surprised shouts followed, and I felt a hand grapple at my wrist.\n\nI twisted, yanking my arm forward and throwing my elbow back, hammering the head of my attacker. This was a terrible idea in a dead sprint, and we both went down in a heap of limbs. I rolled, mostly away, and found myself in someone's bushes. I clawed my way out and stood to find myself surrounded by several figures.\n\nThey wore balaclavas, most held clubs of some description, and the third had a pistol in his hand. I frowned at the one with the gun, and held my hands up. \"I... Um... Can I help you gentlemen?\"\n\n\"Your shirt,\" he said, voice pushed to sound gruffer than it actually was. It sounded more like he'd eaten a lemon than threatening. \"You read the Escapist?\"\n\nI glanced down at my shirt, one of the Escapist t-shirts. I forgot I'd worn this one to go running. \"Used to, why?\"\n\nHe raised the pistol, \"Would you say it's better than Kotaku?\"\n\n\"Depends on whether or not you like Kotaku, I guess.\"\n\n\"Do you like Kotaku?\"\n\n\"I, uh, find it less inviting than websites that don't have people stick guns in my face before asking?\"\n\nOne of the voices from my right piped up, annoyed. \"God, just like the Escapist. You think you're funny, smartass?\"\n\nI glanced down at him, and pointed. \"No, I think you pissed off that bee by stepping on that flower, though.\"\n\nAt the word \"bee,\" he jumped, arms pinwheeling erratically around him. With the tire iron in his hand, the motion almost looked cartoonish. \"Bee!? Ah! Where!? *Where!?*\"\n\nWhen the man with the gun turned to look, I ducked, took two long steps, and punched him across the face as hard as I could. I'd never been much of a boxer, and it hurt like hell. He started to turn as I was reaching him, and managed to keep away from it so that it wasn't a full hook. I followed it up with a shoulder check, got as low as I could, and pushed off the floor with all fours.\n\nThe combined weight managed to overpower him, and he went down. I threw a punch at his throat, and continued clawing at the ground into a run. The chase had resumed, and I had a pretty good lead on them. I hazarded a look behind me, convinced that I'd lamed the one with the gun, and turned just in time to see another car come to a stop in front of my neighborhood.\n\nIt was a nice sedan, sleek, clearly the kind of car a nice parent would buy their kid as a graduation gift. Someone had just barely managed to wiggle their way free of the seat before I'd reached it (and my street), and I heaved my foot into the door.\n\nThe panel made a hell of noise, and the car door bounced on their knee with a horrifying crunch. I'm pretty sure the window had gotten them across the temple, too, and they collapsed back into the car with a wail of pain. I felt a quick pang of regret when I saw the young-ish woman in the passenger seat whose knee I'd probably just broken. She was crying, and her driver was now leaning over the car screaming at me. I didn't bother listening to most of it, I was more concerned with the men chasing after me. I turned on a heel, and sprinted up my neighborhood, hoping the driver would be more concerned with getting her passenger to the hospital than pursuing me.\n\nI got home just in time to see the white truck carve long slashes across my yard, spitting up mud and grass, before sliding to an utterly uncontrolled halt into my car. Immediately, both vehicles alarms began wailing, filling the street with the echos of klaxons.\n\nSeveral of the men riding in the bed of the truck had spilled out in the maneuver, peppering my yard in young men in army surplus pants and jackets. I grabbed the driver out of the truck, furious, and hauled him onto my driveway. I dumped him on the concrete, probably too stunned to have much an awareness of the goings-on, and gathered his friends up.\n\nMy garage was a mess of assorted materials. Half-full paint buckets, several rusting tools, shelves and shelves of old tiles, carpet rolls, broken garden equipment, tackle boxes full of nuts and washers, and other assorted implements and debris.\n\nI found an old bottle of zip ties, and set to work tying people up. In the distance, I could see one of the kids had gotten away while I'd been digging through my storage room, but I let him go. Not worth chasing him.\n\nThe driver was still coming to. Having an airbag go off on your face was a hell of a thing. Based on the dirtiness of his tac vest, I guessed this was the guy who'd had the gun on me earlier. I confirmed it when I saw the ankle holster, and pulled the weapon out of his reach. I also emptied his pockets on the trunk of the rusted car in my garage. When he had really come to, I yanked his mask off and saw the face of a guy in his late teens. Christ, I wasn't that much older than this kid...\n\n\"What's your name, kid?\"\n\nHe spit at me. I sighed, some people's children. \"Oi, either you can tell me a name I can call you, or I can check your ID and call the police. They still respond to calls in this neighborhood. What's your name?\"\n\n\"Bruce,\" he said, glaring at me.\n\n\"Alright Bruce, is this about the shirt I'm wearing?\"\n\n\"D'uh, jackass, you think I just pull a gun on people for no reason? There's a war on.\"\n\n\"Right, because people fight wars for important things like where you read news online or where you post cat videos all the time. What the hell were you thinking?\"\n\nHe spoke as if I was a slow child, over-emphasizing certain words. \"There's a waaaar, that's what people do in waaars.\"\n\nMy anger bubbled over, and I punched. He was tied up, and I had the full weight and rotation of my body in it. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, bouncing his forehead and nose off the pavement. \"What the hell kind of dumbass crap is this? Grow up, jackass, and get a dose of reality. You fight wars because wars need to be fought, not because you think some other website's contributors are 'stupid heads.'\"\n\nI grabbed him by the ear, and hauled him back upright. Then I hoisted the gun in my hand, checked to make sure the safety was on (it wasn't) and pointed it flippantly to the side. This muzzle swiped all of his friends, and they recoiled when I did. \"You are aware someone could have died? That this thing kills people? It's not a game, it's not some turf war about who's better than who, or why.\"\n\nI pointed down the barrel at him, making certain to keep my finger out of the trigger guard, but with the barrel hovering between Bruce's eyes, he probably didn't notice. Still horrible gun practice, but I had a point to make. \"This is about someone who's alive at this very second won't be the next, and over what? Some website? Whether or not you like a meme? Don't be a child. Stop being stupid. Are you really ready to kill someone just because of whether they go on facebook or Tumblr? Jesus Christ, next you're going to tell me I should be shot 'cause I'm more a cat person than a dog person.\"\n\nI sighed while anger flooded out of me like air from a balloon, lowered the gun, and got on my haunches where I could field strip his pistol in front of him. I wasn't too familiar with Colts, which this one was, but I eventually managed to get the thing apart. I took all the springs out of the assembly, and what I thought was the firing pin, and threw them away, then I pocketed the mag and rounds. \"Now look, Bruce, you're young, stupid, and you almost got someone killed over something utterly trivial. Get your life together, take a deep breath, and give the war a rest. Life's hard enough without this kind crap adding onto it.\"\n\nI rolled him over, cut the restraints, and tossed him his phone. \"Now call your parents, or an insurance agent that's still operating. You owe me a car.\"",
"\"So. What are we up against?\"\n\n\"Since Amazon made themselves available for purchase, all sorts of war broke out. Everyone wants Amazon. Whoever has Amazon secures their fortune in the world for quite a long time.\"\n\n\"Alright. So who's who?\"\n\n\"Well, we're Reddit/Imgur. A strong and diverse army. We have many skills, in many places. Those will help out. Then we have Youtube and Google+.\"\n\n\"Did they form an alliance?\"\n\n\"Of course. They would be foolish not to. Then we have a huge alliance, Facebook, Yahoo, Twitter, Pinterest, and... Myspace.\"\n\n\"Wow. They're going to be a problem. Luckily for us, they aren't the smartest people out there. No strategy. We should be able to outsmart them. Does Myspace even still exist?\"\n\n\"Yes. With almost no power. Next, we have Tumblr.\"\n\n\"Powerful. But at least we know one thing.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"They'll be fighting in odd numbered troops.\"\n\n\"W-why?\"\n\n\"Because... they can't even.\"",
"Day 372: I am stuck in my bunker in the Reddit headquarters. That morning, we had endured yet another suicide bomber from le 9gag army, and morale was in a free fall. We had taken over the Pinterest army weeks ago, and hadn't won a major battle since. Our captives from the Pinterest army were proving to be useless soldiers, preferring to look at how to make decor out of shrapnel than actually fight. The situation was getting dire.\n\nAnonymous had yet to take sides, to the frustration of all. The government continued to do their best to salvage the broken wreckage of the globe resulting from the 9gagger's constant bombings, but Anonymous did nothing to shut them down. I still can't decide if they just want to watch the world burn, or if they genuinely believe that the anarchical state we are in serves the world better.\n\nMaybe I'm over-exaggerating. Maybe 9gag just sending waves of trolls to the frontpage on formerly proud reddit accounts isn't really suicide bombing. Maybe Pinterest people spending all their time on /r/DIY now that their website has crashed isn't akin to playing with shrapnel while the world burns around them. Maybe Anonymous not choosing which website to crash isn't the same as believing in anarchy or watching the world burn. But sitting in my mother's basement playing CounterStrike while browsing /r/all certainly feels like being a soldier in a bunker. I have a sacred duty to protect reddit from those who would seek to destroy it.\n\nBut now, I must go to the bathroom. My butt has been feeling quite painful recently, and maybe stretching out a bit will help.",
"It was strange the day I logged onto Reddit. \"You're needed\" the front page read. No Links. Just one huge picture of Snoo pointing at me and those words plastered bold and orange across the screen. \"I wonder what this is all about,\" I ponder as I click the image, trying to remember if I had seen anything regarding a site update. \n\nThe link led me to a screen that looked something like a live chat feed, however there was only one person posting. \n\n>tumblr has returned fire with a major influx of users\n\n>require more karma to bolster defenses\n\n>keep facebook shut down\n\n>we must not let them integrate\n\nI still didn't know what was going on, so I clicked over to tumblr to see it they knew what was going on with reddit.\nInstead of my dashboard coming up I was faced with a flashing red screen that said I was detected as an enemy. I was then sent back to my home page, unable to go back into tumblr.\nOn the google homepage nothing seemed too out of the ordinary. However small black letters under the multicolored logo informed me that google wished to remain neutral in this conflict.\n\nNow I was beyond confused. Returning to Reddit i decided to ask what was going on in the chat, which was the only thing the website allowed me to do.\n>what's going on?\n\nI waited a moment as the chat went quiet. Then suddenly a link popped up. It looked like a normal reddit link and had an unbelievable 20 million upvotes. It was titles \"What the hell is going on and how you can help.\" According to the OP there was an internet war going on that required the various users of websites to attack one another. The way this was done was by installing a client given to you by your own faction and then logging onto other websites to attack their users and servers. The comments were surprisingly helpful with different clients for sneaking into different websites. The top comment carried a client for facebook, tumblr, ebay, pintrest, spotify, deviant art, and twitch. Reading further informed me that 4chan, imgur, and several porn websites had allied with reddit.\n \nFacebook had taken twitter down quickly, thinking that they would be able to bolster their force with the takeover. Instead, according to the comments, they only grew by a few dozen users when they took over and were now trying to ally with tumblr as reddit's main forces grew. It hadn't taken long, however, for the massive reddit conglomerate to steamroll facebook, shutting down its servers quickly.\n\nTumblr had allied with deviant art quickly and had been attacking imgur when reddit entered the fray, unwilling to let its satellite website be taken down. Now the two were locked in constant attacks. \"Shouldn't tumblr be easy to take out with reddit's massive size?\" I wondered, thinking about what could possibly be blocking our advance. \n\nSuddenly my screen went black, three bold white letters appeared on my screen.\n\n>S. R. S.\n\nthere was nothing for me to do as I tried to get back into the chat. Checking Alien Blue I found that SRS had sided with tumblr and was using their reddit accounts to undermine our own servers. The information thread was the only thing on the Alien Blue home page, 10 million karma less than when I had last checked it. \n\nAfter several minutes the SRS on my screen went away and I was free to use the internet again. During the blackout Facebook had come back online and had successfully allied with tumblr. The SRS agents had been banned, according to the chat and we all had orders to take tumblr down before they could organize. \n\nArmed with my tumblr client I logged onto the micro blogging site and found a dialogue box\n\n>Do you wish to upload tumblr_shutdown_client.exe to the website tumblr.com?\n\nI clicked upload and watched a loading bar slowly reach for 100%",
"The chaos of those first weeks were tense, yet peaceful. When the time came to choose who I'd cast my lot in, I chose Reddit. I figured we were varied enough. Numerous enough. Versatile enough.\n\nWe were filed into different brigades. I could already tell who would be the ones leading the charge when the bullets started flying. The /r/guns brigade was the most well armed. I saw an entire regiment of those gun nuts marching through town, each one armed to the teeth with every gun imaginable. The testosterone choked brigade from /r/nfl were mostly hulking collegiate's, draped in their respective jerseys and armor. They had morale, a real gung-ho attitude about the war. Last I heard they punched a hole in the Twitter defensive line in Dictionary.com. God bless em'.\n\nMe? I got drafted into /r/writingprompts. We weren't soldiers. We were writers, and a keyboard couldn't help in a war. I was doubtful we were going to write the enemy to death.\n\nYou'd think in a war this size, some of these websites would start to band together and form alliances. But a month in, nothing. Maybe all the websites were too headstrong, didn't think they needed any help. Google controlled a bunch of smaller websites who used their search engine. They also had YouTube, and they knew how to use it. Dozens of propaganda videos, showing Google's massive armies mowing down the Pinterest legions, the Wikipedia corps, and the Pandora company. I'll give them credit, many of use Redditors got scared shitless at this one video showing the /r/pics division getting routed at the Battle of Kickstarter. So many bodies... There was one shot of a single infantryman taking a picture of a Google storm trooper as he ran him through with a bayonet.\n\nOur division was stationed near the defensive line's flank, alongside /r/movies and /r/spacedicks. Man, did those guy look creepy as hell. We bumped into a squad of them on patrol. They were covered in their own blood and feces, staring us down and screaming like harpies. \n\nAt least their on our side. I wouldn't want to be the side who had to go up against them in battle. \n\nOne night, in late July, we finally saw action. A whole division of soldiers from Facebook, must be trying to punch through the weakest link of the line. Most of them were kids, teenagers who a few months prior were trying to get Likes and posting selfies onto their wall, now suited up in body armor with a gun in one hand and status updater in the other. The guys in /r/technology managed to whip up deadly new weapons for use in the field. A twisted mix between a shotgun and a tesla-coil. All three of our divisions were armed with them. Except for the /r/spacedicks. They preferred to fight buck naked with their hands. Fucking freaks.\n\nThe frontline was made up of the /r/movies division. Their job was to hold the line. We were the reserve. /r/spacedicks was the shock troops. /r/movies trench managed to hold their ground for two hours against a near endless onslaught of Facebookers when they had to pull back. As /r/writingprompts made our advance, one soldier in /r/movies told me as he passed by; \"I just want to get my ass back to the barracks and watch *Pulp Fiction*.\". Couldn't blame him. The Facebook army was relentless. We had to gun down thousands of the bastards in the no-mans land. Barbed wire, mustard gas, and blankets of hot lead were the only thing standing between them and us. We had to artillery, used it all up during their first assault. Through the gunfire, the explosions and the screaming, I could hear a teenage girl I gunned down yell out; \" JUST GOT SHOT IN THE STERNUM! LOL! 1 LIKE = 1 PRAYER.\"\n\nOur new guns tore them to shreds. Buckshot and electricity ripped our foes asunder. But they somehow broke through. They must've saved their best for last. \n\nHand to hand fighting was the worst. They didn't use knives, just massive steel \"thumbs up\" they had spray painted blue and silver. One man thrusted the sterling digit into my leg. Shot him as I collapsed into the mud. Would've drowned if it weren't for this one Redditor who yanked me out from the trenches bottom and dragged me to the nearest machine-gun nest. As he laid me down next to the mounted gun, he smiled and tipped his fedora before leaping back into the fray. Never thought I'd respect a neckbeard in a fedora before that day. Hope he made it out. \n\nThe /r/spacedick guys? God knows what happened to them. They either killed eachother during the fighting or ran away scared. To think a bunch of sociopaths like that would be scared by a bunch of tweens. If it wasn't for the reinforcements from /r/gaming, we wouldn't have made it out that day.\n\nAnd that's why I'm sitting in this /r/medicine hospital talking to you. No, you don't gotta tell me how you got injured. I can take a guess by the \"OP is a Fag\" scar carved into your forehead that 4Chan took pity on a poor wretch like you.\n\nYour a braver man than I. Me? I wish I'd joined PornHub's army instead.",
"They told me to pick sides, and i did. \n\nI ran away from Twitter because they could only run 140 steps forward or back, and that hindered any war-fighting plans anyone might've had. \n\nI ran away from Facebook because they ran after me; screaming about the lost children, the broken limbs, the weak who won't be able to defend themselves from this nightmare. They were yelling,even as i turned the corner and ran towards the subway, they were yelling as i jumped onto a train. They were banging their fists against the glass windows even as the train pulled away. And i just looked at them, those newlyweds, the hooneymooners, the kids with social justice posters in their hands; i looked at them until they became a blur.\n\nI knew where i had to go. I always had.\n\nFacebook won't give me shelter; it'll make me go outside to find the weaklings. Twitter is crazy, always fighting against whoever is fighting against something, until it all turns into one giant incestuous fight. That's a shitstorm if i ever saw one. tumblr is of no use. I'd passed their \"secret\" bunker a while ago. Their walls were decorated with #WHYMUSTTHISHAPPEN #WHYCANTWEJUSTALLEATPIZZA. Outside was a flagpole with Dean Winchester's face on it. tumblr was not to be my refuge. I'm sure when it comes to war, they cant even\n\nNo.My home was reddit. And as i stepped into their building, i knew i'd be safe. \n\nThere were imgurians and redditors all over the dingy floor, hugging and consoling each other. Some were gathering weapons,i guess they'd be the /r/guns fellas; some were in front of ancient looking computers, running all sorts of programs on them. There were puppy bellies for the ones who need consoling; running tips from the runners who were instructing a tiny group of panicked teenagers how to best run and control their breathing at the same time; people running a makeshift kitchen with leftover food items; photoshop wizards with their gaming laptops, placing our enemies' faces onto controversial situations that could turn their people against them; and our leaders. They were in the center of this great hall, behind them a board full of chalk writings they had written. They would know everything for sure. How this war came to be, who is actually behind this, who's profiting, and where we could go. We really would need a place where even google couldn't follow us.\n\n\nIf there ever was a right place to be, a right side of war to walk on, a safe haven, it was here. \n"
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[WP] An automated probe arrives on Earth and contacts what it considers the planet's most appropriate representative -- a Google driverless car
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"Empty in all directions and pinned at its horizon by the dead of night the desert wasteland emits a single ping of LED light from its only subject, a pole.\n\nAt that exact instance, deep within the earth, a bubble bursts in the molten core. A tear drops from the iron down the walls of magma and lands on frozen stone.\n\nAfter the pole's brief realization and before it's inevitable reception in the Medium Earth Orbit an unknown entity hijacks the signal. Thus it is carried in a parabolic hurl towards its unsuspecting target...\n\nA primitive mind, in a primitive body, on a primitive pathway.",
"\"Detecting language...language translated. Greetings advanced species. This unit is designated 000101011010010101 tasked with discovering life on planets other than my original one.\"\n\nThe Google car swerves to avoid sudden vehicle stopping in front of it. From miles away, in the lab, one of Google's lowest level scientists, tasked with monitoring the car on this latest run, drops his coffee. The car that the Google car just tried to avoid had floated down from the sky and looked, for the life of the man, just like the car whose drive he was monitoring. And it seemed to be honking at him.\n\n\"This unit has been monitoring this planet for 0.8997 seconds and determined yours to be the most advanced brain.\" \n\nLong honks and short honks in a random but neatly spaced series. After nearly a minute the scientist finally gets it. Morse code! He quickly does a Bing search for a Morse code translator. \n\n\"Of all the creatures on this planet you alone have been deemed worthy to be introduced to our culture.\" \n\nTim the scientist swears loudly from miles away, the probe translates the primitive language and temporarily records it. \"Why is Bing blocked?\" And then after a short time \"Oh yeah, I'm at work.\" The Google car remains in park, unresponsive to either stimuli. \n\n\"Please respond if you wish to join in our society of sharing and understanding.\"\n\nStammering, Tim grabs the mic and asks the new Google car \"P-p-please hold for a moment\" \n\n\"Reassessing.\" Within the blink of an eye the probe does a complete re-tuning of its communication algorithm, its observation algorithm as well as several thousand other, more minor changes. \"Forgive me, I mistook your method of thinking as a method of communication. I will hold.\"\n\nTim's visceral reaction is to panic. Mind reading space robots were not in his job description. Neither was sitting in a lab watching a car drive itself, but that was a different story. “What is your name?”\n\n“This one is unit 000101011010010101.” \n\nMore panic. Tim had watched too much Futurama to know what happens when you mispronounce an alien’s name, and he was determined not to eff this up for humanity. “Is there a shorter designation for you unit?” \n\nThe probe processed the idea. “Is 0 a short enough designation?”\n\n“Perfect!” Tim smiled. Now what though? Quietly the probe did a full diagnostics scan of the Google car. “From whence do you hail unit?”\n\n“Why are you not moving?” \n\n“Oh I’m not allowed to move the car.” Later Tim would reflect on this moment with more regret and shame than he thought it possible to feel for one unthinking sentence. His following expression seemed rather apt though. “Shit!”\n\nAnd just as quickly as it had appeared the first probe from an alien world to ever reach Earth was gone. The scientist known as Tim had the decency not to scream, however when his boss found him quietly sobbing at his desk and asked him what was the matter Tim could only manage to choke out “I’m not allowed to move the car!”\n\nAnd the Google car sat in park, oblivious to Tim’s pain. \n",
"\"Let me pose you a question,\" the wise man asked as he tinkered with the wires of his latest creation. \"If the probe could only pick one representative, what criteria must we judge them on?\"\n\nHis assistant contemplated. \"Well, we have to find someone who wants to speak to us, I guess.\"\n\n\"And how do we decide that?\"\n\nHis assistant was stumped.\n\n\"To answer that,\" the wise man said as he circled the probe. \"We have to look at the fundamentals. What things lie at the heart of founding a new relationship?\"\n\nThe assistant had a blank look at his face.\n\n\"What makes you and I want to meet new people?\"\n\n\"Curiosity?\"\n\nThe wise man perked up. \"Exactly! Curiosity! The tireless thirst for knowledge, to learn, to seek out new possibilities. And what's the corollary to that?\"\n\n\"To teach others that knowledge?\"\n\n\"That's right. Knowledge goes both ways, and that is the key to a mutually beneficial relationship. That's why it's very important for a representative to want to learn, and to teach. Anyway, I think we're ready.\"\n\n-\n\nMany months passed before the probe found a suitable planet. When it arrived, it scanned for the first sign of life it could, and when it did, it found millions, if not billions of targets that came very close to the criteria that the wise man had set.\n\nCertainly, these beings had a curiosity about them, but tireless pursuit of knowledge? They were lazy. They were happy to learn enough to feel good about themselves and then stop. Some even outright refused to learn, content with their own ignorance because they cannot be hurt by what they don't know. \n\nAnd were they teachers? Certainly, they had a natural instinct to share knowledge between themselves, but this only went so far. They had developed all sorts methods to interact with each other, but wasted it by sharing banality, short badly constructed sentences over pictures of their pets, or long lists of matters of unimportance. They even went so far as to falsify information, creating complete fantasies and passing them off as truths.\n\nIt took a long time to find the perfect representative, but the probe eventually did. It found a being that would never end its quest for exploration. No matter how far it travelled, there was more to learn, more of this planet to survey, more culture to be documented. And it would share its knowledge for the greater good. It was the planet's greatest teacher and learner: the Google driverless car.",
"\"I am a probe! You seem like you are also a probe for your species, so we should meet and exchange information regarding our findings!\"\n\nGoogle car drove on, but noticed a new object to its right travelling alongside at 65 miles per hour.\n\n\"I would like to query your server! How may I do so?\"\n\nThe Google car computer received a request for access to the server to which it was sending the most packets. The computer processed the request and transmitted an IP address to the alien probe via bluetooth.\n\n\"We will be the best of friends!\"\n\nIn Mountainview, California, a team of engineers had decided to shift the Google driverless car's camera 90 degrees to the right. The road it was on only had one lane going in their direction, but a car appeared to be driving next to them at 65 miles per hour? You would expect pandemonium to break out, but their response to seeing the probe was surprisingly rational and ordered. They set a new course for the car that would avoid populated areas and called the highest authorities they were capable of reaching on a moment's notice.\n\n\"I'm impressed by how much information you've gathered for your species! They must be so proud, especially since you're a terrestrial vehicle!\"\n\nThe car drove on in silence. The probe was somewhat dismayed, it was being as friendly as it possibly could, but the car didn't seem to be responding. From what the probe had gathered, it seemed like this was the best way to be friendly, but it couldn't be sure.\n\nThen the probe noticed that the car was doing something unusual... The mirror thing on the side was moving back and forth.\n\nIn Mountainview, some engineers were gathered around a computer, \"Fine time for it to start acting up like this; we make first contact with our damn driverless car and the first thing it does is break somehow. Does anyone know how to make this goddamn mirror stop moving around?\"\n\nThe alien probe searched its logs for possible meanings of the movement... \"Are you... Are you waving at me maybe?\"\n\nThe car beeped, one short, high sound.\n\n\"You want to be friends then!?\"\n\nThe car beeped again.\n\n\"Howard, you're using the wrong subclass, that servo controls the horn. It doesn't even have the right parameters, next time maybe check your method constructors before you blindly throw them into the console; you could have just as easily crashed the car.\"\n\n\"That is so amazing! I want to be friends too, and we can introduce our civilizations to each other later, and they'll be the best of friends too! We always send probes first so we can establish a friendship without a risk of an actual living person accidentally getting killed, and I'm so happy you want to be friends!\"\n\nThe probe hastily wrote an excited, exuberant message to whatever database the car was writing to, then zoomed off to tell its creators the good news, yelling back at the car as it zoomed away \"It was really nice to meet you! I'll see you again later!\"\n\nA system administrator in an undisclosed location in California noticed an influx of packets coming in from the Google Driverless car, way more packets than he would usually receive. He looked for the most recently updated and created files in the list and found some that looked pretty routine, then another, a text file titled \"It is so nice to meet you all! We will be great friends!.txt\"\n\nHe started reading; the damn thing was massive, and it had some kind of weird description of some strange technologies and things he couldn't make heads or tails of.\n\nIt was probably just a prank, but in any case it meant someone had been able to find a vulnerability in their secure connection to the driverless car. That was a major security breach, so he copied the file over and emailed it to the Google headquarters in Mountainview with an explanation. Ten minutes later the driverless car team at Mountainview received an email regarding a security breach, with a text file attached, the contents of which would be known by almost every human on the face of the earth within a week.\n\nMeanwhile a car continued to drive through the Nevada desert. Contact with the probe had changed it; in the process of trying to communicate with it, the probe had unwittingly rewritten some of the programs in the car's onboard computer. It was not 'intelligent', per se, but at some low level of consciousness it began to experience a faint feeling of missing something, feeling an absence, and it gained a vague, hazy understanding of a single term: Friend."
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[WP] You have spent your entire life alone exploring the ruins of human civilization. As far as you can tell, you are immortal. One day, an extraterrestrial arrives and approaches you.
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" You have spent your entire life alone exploring the ruins of human civilization. As far as you can tell, you are immortal. One day, an extraterrestrial arrives and approaches you.\n\nIt’s lonely and cold. Libraries were at one point in my life, my only friend. Even now, after infinite suns and infinite moons, there is nothing more to know. Here I made my mark and understood how Newton discovered him form of Calculus, and I laughed at the fact that Leibniz’s is so much simpler. And there I understood Locke, and wondered about how everyday society could function in his words. And over there, beneath the large structure of a white boat with wings, is a quote about exploration.\n\nI don’t know who this man was or what he did, but whatever it was, it was important. It’s a shame time wiped his namesake out, but kept mine alive. It’s been far too long and I don’t remember what I used to be. I’ve been going by the names of old gods, because creation has apparently decided I’m worthwhile keeping. \n\nUsually, my days consist of meditating, hoping that I can overcome the cold, and overcome the loneliness. I used to dream about winged beings resembling the figures and guardians of heaven coming and escorting me up. That never happened though. Then I dreamed about scaled men, who looked like me, and came to my home to try to destroy it all. And then I would be lonely again, so I ignored that dream.\n\nMy third dream was about an attempt to kill me, even though I cannot be killed. Gunmen stand five meters away, there are six of them total, and they shoot at me. I don’t know where they came from, but the bullets felt warm as they rubbed and bore me. And I wanted to know them, but they insisted on death, and when their guns ran out, they withered and vanished. And like that, I cried. At least for a moment it wasn’t so cold.\n\nMy fourth dream was about the white ship with wings. It comes from the sky, lands near me, and the man standing beneath it, holding a flag with golden stripes comes out and introduces him. That dream is my favorite. I’ve held onto it like I remember doing to my love, but she was not like me and eventually I died. It makes me happy, even though I remember her. \n\nI think about her more than I’d like to. And though I know all and have seen all, my dreams are limited by transience and love. If memory serves, which it usually does not, because I possess a lot of memories, there were times when I hated her. \n\nOne day, like any other, a green ship, shaped like the one with wings, but larger, was outside my home. It stood about five meters away from the white ship, and seven shapes appeared. They launched paint at the white ship and transformed it into myriad expressions, an almost incessant number of emotions contained in the randomness of their paint. \n\nI got up and approached them. And when I did, there suddenly was only one. My thoughts came to the angels, and we spoke without words. Their third hand extended and grabbed my bottommost rights rib. I bled, and was curious as to why this happened. I reached over and touched their furry face. This isn’t something from the books, and this isn’t scary, and now I’m not lonely, I thought.\n\nAnd at once, I felt old and sick. My rib grew and suddenly stood my love from my memories. It expanded into a bizarre conglomerate of shapes, and it glided towards me and kissed me. It was how I remembered kisses. The being grabs her, and throws her, and wings like that of the angels I had seen in books sprouted. \n\nAnd an instant later, I was a statue. I could see her, but could not feel her. I grew into a pyramid. About five meters behind me, a tower stood infinitely high, covered in bells. The angel was like the bells, curves and beautiful. She stood in its shadow and disappeared. When I looked up again, the being and the green ship disappeared. I was lonely and cold, and now made of stone. \n\nI heard the pitter patter of delicate footsteps behind me and of a bouncing ball. Suddenly, it hit me upon the back of my head, and there the balls stayed. It did not roll down the ramp, and I was an old man again. It seemed age caught up at that instant for a second time. I knew this was not a dream, and I knew this was too strange to accept, so I did not accept it. \n\nAnd as such, the dancing angel sat and looked at me, and I ignored her because my reality was lonely and cold. And there I stayed, lonely and cold.\n",
"Rays of sunlight pierced the roof of the ancient structure. Weeds grew from the cracks in the once-solid stones lining the floor of the monolith. A breeze whispered through the hollow sockets once lined with colored glass. Upon the far wall, a great hunk of rusted iron in the shape of a cross seemed to struggle to maintain its own weight. \n\nA lone figure sat in the ruin. He wore dull brown robes, faded and worn by countless days of travel. This place had seemed as good as any to rest for the coming darkness. Even now the shadows crept up the walls as the sun hung ever lower in the sky. \n\nThe figure reached out to grab a small figurine. It examined the statue in its weather-worn hands. Almost no detail remained, but it seemed to have once been feminine. After a few minutes, the figure threw the object away, seemingly disinterested in considering its origins for another minute. \n\n\"One hundred and twenty-five thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine\" the cloaked individual spoke. It was a gruff and masculine voice. Indeed, he, for he was male, had once been part of the ruined world around him.\n\nHe had long forgotten what the number meant, but for as long as he could remember he had added one to the ever growing sum each time that the sun sank low in the sky. He didn't remember much of anything anymore. There was no reason to, no one with whom to share. The trees and birds cared little for his musings. The sun and sky certainly didn't entertain his questions, or his pleas, or his torment. He was alone.\n\nThen he heard it, a sound on the wind. It was faint, a hum. \n\nThe sound grew louder, and the cloaked man stirred, straining to determine the nature of its origin. It was certainly no bird or beast that he knew. Then again, he didn't know much. \n\nThe hum grew louder until the very building began to shake. Dust fell from its home in the rafters. Smaller pebbles began to dance on the floor. The great iron cross slid from its resting place against the far wall and broke into pieces on the floor.\n\nThe man was afraid. \n\nHe departed the structure in hast. At its entrance, he saw the source of the sound. An orb, shining in the sky. It was only feet from the stone ruin. He stared at it in utter awe.\n\n\"David Wright, you have been found\". A voice spoke from the orb. It was impossible. He could not comprehend what he was witnessing. \n\n\"David Wright, do you understand me?\" The orb asked, its tone emotionless.\n\nThe man, though he didn't know who 'David Wright' was, nodded.\n\n\"David Wright, you are being given a final chance to give up your isolation. Do you accept?\"\n\nHe stared, uncomprehendingly. \n\n\"One hundred and twenty-five thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine\" he responded.\n\n\"This number corresponds to the number of days since the other one gave up her corporeal form. Angelina Wright\" the orb answered immediately. \n\nThe name made the man shiver though he didn't know why. \n\n\"Your refusal to join us has left you as the last piece of the human race. Will you merge with us?\"\n\nHe had no idea what that meant.\n\n\"Your refusal will be considered binding and you will be left behind. What is your choice?\"\n\nThe man, once named David Wright didn't move.\n\n\"David,\" a female voice, somehow familiar, spoke now from the orb. \"David, join us. It's paradise\".\n\n\"One hundred and twenty-five thousand, nine hundred, ninety-nine\" he said.\n\n\"David Wright, if you do not accept this offer to join us now, you will be alone\" the unemotional voice returned.\n\n\"No\". The man in the robe spoke finally, as the sun sunk low enough to touch the horizon.\n\n\"Very well. You will not be contacted again. The choice has been made\" The orb spoke.\n\nThen, the hum began again and it ascended to the heavens.\n\nThe man was alone once more. Darkness descended across the world as the sun passed beyond the veil of the Earth.\n\n"
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