Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
	[WP] The cry of the wind is real - what is their story?	[ "A gale blowing off the Chesapeake bay and further inland rattles and pries the shingles on the hastily built shacks of the native's houses.\n\n Those inside hear the barrage before they feel it, feel me, I'm on the outside but small tendrils of my chill reach the backs of arms and uncovered skin, forcing the afflicted to sit close together. It doesn't help. I am in. I wish them harm, I wish them discomfort. I was born of cold air and pressure. I know nothing else. ", "Today the wind screams, it screams at me and never has my heart hurt more.\n\nTo some I am a hero, a man who turned the tide of the war in our people's most desperate hour. However to others? I... I am nothing more than a mass murderer. Sure, after the great walls fell we were in trouble, but did it warrant all of those lives? \n\nMy heart aches as these thoughts continue to float through my head, I am walking aimlessly through the fields, no sense of direction and no sense of self-worth.\n\nIn our world we who live inside the walls live with a hive mentality. Protect the Queen, no matter what. She gave us a home and she gave us comfort. When the uprising arrived our literal front-door, something had to be done... But why was it by my design?\n\n\nOriginally I was an entertainer. A chemist with a quick wit and the ability to learn. I was once so young, so naive. I discovered I could create spectacles with flame that would be displayed during the festivals. The Queen adored my flames. They were so lovely, bright flashing colours, flame that would change hues as it transformed from wild beast to dragon. \n\nIt was a beauty in itself, it was meant to inspire! But not this! I still hear them, the cries, the screams.. I start sobbing uncontrollably \n\nThey ran to the gates of my Queen! They were trying to enter! I had to do something! I had to do something! There were 400 at the gates... So I created my fire. The ignition fluid was new, by design I had created it to maintain a brighter and longer flame. It was sticky though, you couldn't just wipe this stuff off. \n\nThat day... Never had my flames burned so bright, but they weren't beautiful. They burned a crimson red... They were angry. Angry at me. They devoured the enemies, but it was not sated, it kept going... So many people. So many innocents. \n\nI can still hear them. I only did it to protect them, but never would I have imagined the hunger of my fire. It spread so quickly, they screamed... They are still screaming. You are still there.\n\nI slowly come to a stop to my walking. Tears stain my cheeks and I realize I am outside the walls. In front of me are some of the graves of our people. I slowly stumble forward, understanding exactly why I was here.\n\nI just wanted you to be happy... When I played with my flames you smiled so much. You were entranced by their beauty, as I was entranced by yours. I love you so much, as you loved me.\n\nI collapse on her grave. \n\nMy love, I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I have sinned. I do not think I will ever see you again... \n\nFrom my pocket I place a rose on her cross and stand-up to leave.\n\nThe wind, you are still harboring their screams. I still hear them. You will carry them to the end of the world, collecting more as you go. You have her voice now, somewhere within the folds of your turbines. I may never see her again... But I will not allow her scream to go unaided. \n\nI burrow into my right pocket and extract the contents\n\nDon't worry love, I am coming to save you. \n\nI engulf into flames after I spark the bottle of ignition, I allow the fire to consume me and then release a piercing wail, a scream that will allow my voice to travel alongside you.\n\nI am so sorry.\n " ]	2
It could even be in an alternate universe where everyone has super powers...	[WP] You're immortal, in a different way. No matter how gruesome, painful, or even peaceful your death is, you always come back. How do you discover this?	[ "Some people are happy to survived a plane crash, i am not one of those people.\n\nI was on my way to Europe to give a talk on global warming when the plane suddenly took a dive, i though to myself \"well this is how i die\", unfortunately i was wrong, the only thing i remember is a large wave of heat rushing towards me and then nothing.\n\nIt took several minutes before my body reconstituted itself and i found myself slowly sinking to the bottom of the ocean, at first i tried to swim up but it was in vain, i suffocated before reaching the surface, it seemed whatever resurrected me did not aid me in any other way.\n\nEventually i just gave up and started my inevitable decent to the bottom, hoping to walk to the surface between my now inevitable suffocation deaths, i got a full 5 feet before i realized sharks and other predators were drawn to the wreckage and started to feast,\ni tried to hide, but occasionally dieing does not help keeping quiet.\n\nSuffice it to say i \"woke up\" with sharks nibbling on my legs, only now i got the play the fun game of what would kill me first bloodloss suffication or the sharkbites.\n\nNow if i wasn't immortal my tale would end here, but you see my body resets the damage and as soon as it recovered the sharks would dig in again, my only reprieves were when the sharks were full and they simply drifted around me, i tried fending them off , but they were smart, they waited till i died before approaching and ripping me to pieces, in a way i was grateful as it ensured it wouldn't feel the first few bites.\n\nAfter a few weeks i gave up, i started naming the sharks and beginning to accept living there for the rest of my life, i have seen generations of sharks born and die, occasionally one would swim away in search of other prey but they always returned to me.\n\nbut thats over now, all those barrels of toxins you dumped in the middle of nowhere really saved me, i coated myself in it and within 4 years i reached shore.\n\n\n\n", "\"I'm so happy that you were able to make it, Sarah. I know it was a long flight, but I love you so much. I'm just so happy to see you.\"\n\nI looked at my granddaughter and felt a tinge of guilt. Here she was, trying to hold back her tears, and I'm enjoying it. She didn't need to see this. She didn't need to watch an old man die. But I asked for her to come. I wanted to see what I had started. Somewhere in the pretty young woman, there was a piece of me. In herself, her mother, and her uncle, I could live on. It made this death seem a little less... permanent. I knew that, even though I was about to be sorted and filed into the folders of the past, my family would be living references to my life. Selfishness aside, I really loved each and every one of the people in my hospital room and I wanted to give them a chance to have their final goodbyes.\n\nI'm an old man. Simply put, my body is shutting down... just giving up. The doctors quit trying to explain all the things that are going wrong inside of me. Now they just say, \"He's old. Its time for him to go\". I know it and so does everyone else in the room. That's why they're here. I'm about to die. In a way, its utterly terrifying. A day from now, I wont be around. My entire life has lead to this moment...the total undoing of my existence. I keep thinking about how I will live on in my children and grandchildren, but holy shit, at night when its quiet, I only have one thought echoing in my head. This is the end.\n\nA sharp pain in the pit of my stomach woke me up. It was the middle of the night, and everyone else was a asleep. Sarah was sleeping with her mother in the hard, fake leather chair, and my oldest son was lying on a barely padded bench, his arms and legs dangling in the air. For a brief moment I thought about how much they all must love me to spend their nights in this cramped shit hole, and then my stomach twisted up in a burning hot knot. I gasped in pain. The noise woke Sarah, and she walked over to my bed. I tried to tell her to wake the others, but only a faint whisper came from my mouth. I could tell she was scared. I was scared too. Sarah was about to watch her grandfather die. I'm such a jerk for asking her to come. She didn't need to see this. She doesn't need to know this is how life ends - sick, old, weak and helpless in a hospital bed, only strong enough to make embarrassing wheezing noises while feeling the light fade from your own eyes. The pain grew in intensity until it felt like my whole body was burning. I wanted to cry and scream, but I couldn't. All I could do was try to keep a peaceful look on my face while the young girl watched in horror.\n\nSuddenly, the pain stopped. I think the monitoring equipment began to beep, but I'm not sure. Death began to creep into by bones. It was like I had just drank an entire bottle of whiskey and it was all hitting me at once. My lips turned numb, then my nose, even my teeth. I heard a slight buzzing noise in my ears, and each breath was more difficult than the last. My head started floating, and after riding the waves of consciousness for a few seconds, I gave in and sank deep into slumber.\n\nNothingness is a strange concept. At once it is completely empty, at the same time it is so incredibly heavy. It's like being rolled up in a giant, black wool blanket. All sight, sound, and sensation is absolutely eliminated. But you've felt everything your whole life, and now there is nothing. It's so different...you can almost feel it.\n\nThe heavy wool blanket was unexpectedly yanked away from me. Light and sound flooded my brain and it felt like I had been thrown into a swimming pool in the middle of winter. I gasped in the sweet air, and took a second for my eyes to adjust. I wasn't in my hospital room anymore. I was lying on a cold metal table in whatever funeral home my family had decided to use. I guess they were about to begin preparing my body for burial.\n\nI was so excited to be alive! I wanted to jump up and hug the startled mortician who had been about to start working on my corpse. But my body hadn't changed at all. I was still an old, dying man, with a weak and failing body. But I could move my eyes, and I could breath! I began inhaling as intensely as possibly, which made it very clear I was alive. The mortician turned almost as pale as I was.\n\n\"Mr. Hill? MR. HILL COME HERE QUICK!\" \n\nThe funeral director came running into the room and stopped right beside the mortician. They could both tell I was alive. The pain in my stomach had receded and I was able to get out a few words.\n\n\"Please help me, I'm not dead. I don't know what is going on.\"\n\nAfter a quick discussion, the two funeral workers decided to call the police. I was taken back to the hospital, where my family was waiting for my return. They were all extremely happy, except for Sarah, who was understandably quiet. \n\n\"Oh daddy, we thought you were gone!\" my daughter exclaimed.\n\n\"It's good to see you again dad. You scared the shit out of us, you crazy old man\" my son said as he gave me the biggest hug of my life.\n\nI was taken to the same hospital room as before. Everything felt relatively normal as I adjusted myself and got comfortable in my familiar bed. My family stayed with me for the next few nights, but my condition improved until the doctors felt my I was stable. My son and daughter eventually had to go back to work, and I spent most of my waking hours watching television alone in my room. I thought I was better.\n\nExactly six days later, 144 hours after my first incident, I woke up with my stomach retching in a white hot pain. Within a minute I had succumb to the slumber that took me away once before. \n\nI awoke with a tube in my arm. I've never felt such a horrible pain in my entire life. The stomach pains were nothing compared to this. I screamed as loud as possible and pulled the tube out of my arm. The same mortician as before was seated beside me. A mixture of fear and disgust spread across her face. She had just started filling me with embalming fluid, and now I'm alive and screaming.\n\nIt was unnatural. It shouldn't happen.\n\nAfter a flurry of expletives, the mortician ran out the door. I looked down at my body, old and bruised, and I realized that something was wrong with me. I should be dead. I should have been dead a week ago. Something is pulling me back to life each time I pass away. Judging by the mortician's reaction this time, I knew she wouldn't be arranging a joyous return to my loved ones. The best I could hope for is a news reporter, the worst, scared police or curious government scientists. I don't know, that's what happened on the Twilight Zone. I left the funeral home on my own. The excruciating pain of the embalming fluid in my veins game me enough clarity to make my way to my son's home. \n\nWhen he opened the door, I realized my mistake. He looked like he had just seen a horrible ghost. He pretty much had. My family had seen me as a corpse twice now. It was obvious at this point that there was no misdiagnosis of my condition. I was for all intents and purposes a zombie. The last image I had of my son smiling and hugging me was now replaced by his face contorting into the the same look of fear and disgust that the mortician had. He walked away from the door, probably trying to forget what he had just seen. I can't blame him.\n\nIt was at that very moment that I knew I could no longer interfere with my family's life anymore. At worst, I would terrify them like Frankenstein's monster. At best I would bankrupt them with medical bills. I decided to leave town and find somewhere far away to live.\n\nLive...that's not the right word for it. My \"life\" is nothing but a mind numbing cycle of pointless days punctuated by brief episodes of awful pain and then...quiet. All to be repeated over and over again. My body is still deteriorating, and I think I'm noticing the intervals between death begin to shorten.\n\nI once had a life, but it is gone. I may still be alive, but I died a long time ago.\n\n", "Here I go again. This time I held it off for 35 years. I have so much to live for this time, but I just can't help myself. I have a husband who loves me, a family who loves me, friends who love me. It can never be enough for me. I live in comfort and with ease every day, but I can't escape the pull. A deep fire inside burning for that softening feeling inside me. A deep warming up. \n\nMy next life is unlikely to be anything like as lucky as this one, but even now I can only last 35 years before I long for rebirth. Maybe next time I will only last 10 years before being 'accidently' hit by a truck. Maybe I won't even last that long. Abortion could even take me before birth - but my longing for new life won't stop. I love dying. I love feeling every part of me heat up. I love the silence and nothingness, endless and instantaneous, between one life and the next. I don't feel pain, or fear. I am wholly myself.\n\nI have lived and died for so long I barely feel the loss. I'm shocked I can still prey upon human relationships. My life this time has been easy, but so pointless. I am unable to form two way bonds; unable to tell the truth; unable to be true to who I am. I act a life of somebody I do not know with the idle curiosity of someone who has no time to lose. I have nothing in the world to lose. My lives are never my lives. I long for death. Bring on the fire.", "Red. Red was all i saw.\n\nI see red in different way. Sometimes its red of fire; bright, warm and comforting. Othertimes, its the red that dressed the person of whom I just killed and their loved one whom cried over a now inanimate object.\n\nThe red I saw this time was a bit of both. A red that was both brilliant and yet insidious.\n\nMy own blood flowed down and leaked into my eyes tinting my world with red. Things blurred but I could still make out the smoking gun that was pointed at me.\n\nShe shot me at point blank range, if I turned around, I'm sure I would see pieces of my brain splattered. But yet, all I saw was red, not darkness, not the infinity of the void, but red.\n\nThe world took on a different tone when it was red. It wasn't unpleasant, in fact, it was certainly beautiful, but it paled in comparison to the look of the girl in front of me. That look of true horror was nothing less than beautiful. A look so exotic, so rare, that a man may count himself lucky to see it only once in his entire existence. It seems like I am lucky.\n\nI tried my best to hold back, but a grin of delight leaked from the emotions I tried so hard to bottle up. \"What now\"?\n\nHer response was three more loud actuation of bullets. And then more red filled my vision. But alas, still the only thing I saw was red, no darkness crept up on me, only red.\n\nMore grinning, perhaps even a slight laughter might have escaped me. Her look of horror was gone now, replaced with a look of grief. It was a wonderful sight. A crying maiden overwhelmed that she will never be able to avenge the ones she loved. How how poetic, how beautiful. A classic beauty accentuated by the sheer humanity of her emotions. The feminine.\n\nI got up slowly, my head was quite dizzy, and looked her in the eye. She responded with a teary stare that made me fall all the more in love. We locked gaze for what seemed longer than ever. Finally, after an eternity, I broke the dance and walked off into the red night, hoping that the four gaping holes in my head will ultimately heal.\n\nFrom behind, all I hear were tears.\n\n", "Day fifty-five-\n\nIt had been fifty-five days since I last died. Not too terribly wrong. Nowhere near that ten year stretch a while back. But more than the week of the Normandy invasion. That had been hell. When I die, I don't just come back. It's not like I just stand up and brush off getting hit by a semi. Or a bullet to the brain.\nNo, it can't be that simple.\nWhen I was born, I was Adam Glass. It was 1665. My father was a member of the clergy. We were very religious my family.\nI say we, but I'm not including myself. Maybe I was though. I can't remember anymore. Too many lives.\nOh wait I'm getting ahead of myself.\n\nThe first time I died, I was 24 years old. Aneurysm. Just pop and next thing I knew, I was dead. But then. I was alive again. Instead of the European mountains I was used to, great plains of grass lay before me.\nI was much older. Had to be nearly seventy. I'm the distance I heard, and saw, mind you, saw Lions having a disagreement over food.\nBut I had never even heard of a lion before. I head no idea what that giant cat was.\nA voice scared me.\n\"What's going on?\"\nI looked around, seeing nobody. Where had that voice come from?\n\"Who's talking? Where are you?\" The voice asked again.\nThe voice was in my head.\n\nI won't bore you with the rest of that life. It didn't last long. The Lions had a new snack to fight over.\n\nYou see when I die, I'm not reborn, not raised from the dead, nothing like that. My... What one of my previous hosts called my essence, for lack of a better term, simply hops somewhere else.\nThey could be anywhere. Anyone. Ten feet away, or on the other side of the world.\nOnce, I even visited a world made only of sentient bats. Flying is wonderful by the way.\n\nBut when I take over this host, the person inside doesn't just disappear. They're in here with me.\n'Yeah, and let me tell you it's... an experience.'\nShe's not very happy with me.\n'No, no I'm not.'\nCould you not? Can't you just wait till this guy is finished writing? It's distracting.\n'Oh yes, I'll wait.'\nGood.\n\nAnyway, long story short, when I... Make my trip, having two consciences in one body drains drains it quicker than it should.\nSometimes we learn to live together, other times, I have to end it. You have to imagine a force coming in, taking over your body, and you having no control over yourself. Ever again.\nIt's taxing on a person.\nEmily here is handling it pretty well. But you know, most do at the beginning.\n\n\nDay 252-\n\n'Just end it. Please.'\nAnd we've arrived at this time.\n'Yes we have. Stop narrating goddammit! Kill me!'\nIt's been two hundred days since we last talked hasn't it? Longest I've had in a while. I'm gonna have to go now though. I think.\nJumping off a cliff sounds good.\n'Yes it does. Just anything please!\"\n\nI look over the side of the mountain to the forest floor below me. I don't know where I'll end up after this. I hope it's warm.\n'Just jump already!'\n\nI jump, quietly praying I don't end up in Alaska again. \n\n'You just had to get one more in didn't you?'", "Your first time is always supposed to be special. In my case, I got kicked off a horse somewhere near Fort Bridger, broke my back, and crawled my way into a dehydrated slumber from which I wouldn't wake up... Actually, that might not be true. I seem to remember waking up just long enough to see some wolves gnawing their way through my right leg, which I could've done without.\n\nThat was the day I realized I was immortal -- and not in the cool way. I can die. I have died, many, many times in many, many ways, each of them just as inglorious as the last. But no matter how many times I die, I always come back in some form. Now, I can hear you thinking, \"Oh, hey, that sounds totally awesome and/or cool!\" but no, it's not cool. I'm gonna stand by that.\n\nFor instance, just this last year I won what I like to call the John Hughes Bingo, which means I somehow managed to get killed by a train, plane, and an automobile. How'd I get killed by a plane, you're surely asking. Let's just say it was a fatal combination of a crop-duster, a hungover pilot with a blind spot the size of Tuolumne County and an impromptu emergency landing. Oh, don't worry, the pilot was fine. I was the only casualty and I wasn't even in the damn plane.\n\nGod...\n\nAnyway, I'm sure I just need to take some time and look at all this in a positive light. After all, I've (technically) lived a good hundred and fifty years, so I should be thankful for that and all I've yet to see. But there is no greater downer than leaving the house to pick up a coffee and waking up to realize you've just been mowed down by some elderly someone who mistook the gas pedal for the brake. Oh, those days are such fun.\n\nBut cool? Nuh-uh.", "1\nIt was a standard operation against a minor insurgent cell. We were a small team, extraction was set for 0200. Operation went off without a hitch, but on the way back, we tripped an IED. It was really bad luck, the angle that it detonated at turned the insides of the humvee into a meat grinder, yet I survived, I was thrown out just a fraction of a second before the full force of the blast. I wish I could say the same for my squadmates.\n\n2\nIt was just a minor skirmish that quickly escalated into a massive firefight. It was like a blackout, one moment I was laying down supressive fire, next moment I was lying on the ground. They said that an enemy sniper just about missed me, they recovered his bullet just a few feet from where I was. That doesn't explain why there was so much blood though, was I bleeding? The whole ordeal lasted seven hours, we lost many good men that day.\n\n3\nHelicopter took a hit from a SAM, had to bail out in enemy territory. Half the squad made it out of the wreckage, only half of that made it back alive. I blacked out once or twice, but luckily I made it through. It's eerie how many close scrapes I've been having, I swear that I've been involved in the most lethal conflicts of the war. I'm applying for reassignment, hopefully I can get off the frontlines.\n\n5\nIt was friendly fire, funnily enough. Some dumbass gave the wrong coordinates for the airstrike, we were almost flattened. As I stood alone, in the midst of all the dead soldiers, a thought occurred to me. Why was I alive when everyone else died?\n\n6\nIt was the day of my reassignment, the day I was supposed to get out of this mess. Just my luck that it was the day Lt. Johnson finally snapped and went on a shooting spree. I was right next to him when he whipped out the pistol, then there was only blackness. I woke up to find 6 servicemen, including Lt. Johnson dead. Somehow I had escaped his wrath, but I was beginning to feel that it wasn't just luck.\n\n7\nCompared to the hot and sandy warzone, home felt like paradise. I was taken off active duty because they felt it would be too much after all that I went through. They were right, it was too much. I took out my revolver, held it to my temple, then click, I pulled the trigger.\n\n8\nclick\n\n9\nclick\n\n10\nclick\n\n11\nclick\n\n12\nclick\n\n15\nI stand on top of a skyscraper. The people below look like tiny ants. I am afraid of heights, but I hold back the lump in my throat and jump. Why was I cursed with this existence?\n\n27\nThe darkness is my only respite now. I have discovered that hanging myself prolongs the duration of the blackout, compared to other methods. The noose feels cold on my throat. With a swift kick the chair falls away.\n\n101\nThe world is unfair. I never wanted it to be that way. It wasn't my fault that whenever I undie, other people die, a sick twisted cosmic balancing. I gave up on suicide, forced myself to live through this eternal hell, and then some punk panics while robbing a gas station and starts shooting.\n\n789\nWhenever I come back, I'm back to being 28, the age where young idiots get blown up in their humvee. Advances in medical technology mean that each cycle lasts a little longer, but old age still wins in the end.\n\n790\nPremature heart attack, the cycle only lasted 37 years this time.\n\n1575\nI thought that medical advancements would stop me from dying, stop the cycle from continuing. I was wrong. Turns out that the mind dying is what triggers the resurrection. This may just be a way out.\n\n1576\nI was wrong, there is no way to digitise the mind without triggering the resurrection. The regeneration of my mind also means that I cannot escape through insanity. I will have to face this eternity completely lucid.\n\n3711\nThe plasma caster has a virtually endless battery, perfect for my continued forays into the darkness. There is nobody on this planet left, everyone either died in the wars or fled on the arks, so now suicide becomes a viable option again.\n\n17894\nThe plasma caster has one shot left and I take it. Each time I go into the darkness, I hope to stay. I don't want to come back.\n", "The first time I died I was lucky. It was quick, it was sudden, I didn't feel a thing. Oh how I wish I was still dead, well would stay dead. It is like a nightmare, a living nightmare. If it were hell I would imagine Satan would not be as cruel as fate has been to me. With a sudden jolt it all started again, my neurons started firing, my heart starting beating, my lungs, well my lungs started burning, burning for a single molecule of that live giving air. But alas their was no air in space. Death, death took over again, its comforting release eased me into the inky black void for which I hope to never return." ]	8
	[WP] You are a shut-in with a mental condition that makes you think everyone is part of a huge conspiracy against you, you have run out of food and must go to the supermarket.	[ "The familiar cracks steady my breath as I trace my hand along the ceiling. My fingers probe the wider gaps, clawing out only dust and dead spiders. Good. They haven't found me yet.\n\nI can see my breath in the night-vision goggles; I destroyed the light-fixtures down here--the cold freezes their machines. They'll come looking soon--they say I'm old. They'll see the lights out upstairs, and come with flashlights. First they'll ring the bell...\n\nDing\n\nBut I won't call.\n\nDing\n\nThey think my wits have worn thin. But when they realize they haven't...\n\n\"Hello...\"\n\nA frightful greeting--barely a whisper beneath the doors. Good. Maybe they've learned to fear me.\n\nThe handle squeaks at the turn. A pause. No breathing. They will hear. Then the wood groans above me, and I hear paper rustle. \n\n\"Shit. He's not in his room.\"\n\n\"Dan, I don't like this. And he's been acting weird lately. We should've taken him in a long time ago.\"\n\nThey are coming.\n\nSofter calls will follow. They will try to coax me--delicately--always delicately. As if I were the animal.\n\n\"Please come out. Please. Just--we're only...\"\n\nOnly! Who trusts what follows 'only'? A liar's word in liar's tones. Come to me in your sheepskin.\n\nThe door at the top of the steps opens. The flashlight cuts through the dark. \n\nYou are not the only wolves in this den.\n\nI silently glide from the corner as they descend, a stalking shadow. Now I will watch them. Now they are closer, creaking steps and rustling paper. But they will not find me in my den, not even with their searching lights. The first reaches the bottom step. I lunge from my corner and twist him around, knife in his back. The light in his hand flashes around the room in a frenzy. I hear paper tear and a thud. The survivor runs, screaming back up the steps.\n\nAs the wails grow fainter, I feel something roll against my foot. And the room smells like...\n\nI drop the body, and the blood begins to flow on the floor. I reach down and grab--an orange.\n\nWhat? But...\n\nThe uneven floor directs the blood to my feet. It soaks my socks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a small piece of paper, with beautiful, flowing handwriting.\n\nHey dad, hope you slept well! We know it's hard for you to get out and around these days, so we thought we'd get you groceries for the week. Don't worry (oh, who am I kidding! :) ), we put all of the food that needs to be there in the fridge and freezer. And we picked you up some oranges; they're in season, and we know--\n\nI throw the note aside and force the corpse onto its back. I see his face. No...God, I'm so sorry...I'm sorry, son.\n\nI don't try to wipe the tears away. I cradle his head against my chest.\n\n\"I'm sorry, son\". \n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n \n \n\n ", "The house is small. It’s small, I know, I know. But it’s my house. The smallness makes it safe. You know that every day the NSA is listening to millions of conversations? I covered the walls. There were old rolls of sheeting, black plastic sheeting. Those rolls, the big ones, I found them in the basement. I unrolled them and put them on the walls. I covered the walls. And I especially covered the windows. The cameras you know. People are watching. Just watching all the time and they’re reporting back, you can’t see them because they know when you look and they act normal but they are, they’re watching, they’re spying on you. And the postman, he works for the government. He knows. He knows! I see him look inside. I see him look inside sometimes. I know he leaves cameras and transmitters and microphones and - well, I’m sure any moment now his associates will be coming to the door. The CIA, that’s who, and the postman works with them of course. He works for the government. It’s one big happy family. Oh my, oh my. It’s one of those days. It’s one of those days. There’s no food anymore. My god, I would say, if I could believe in such a thing although of course believing in a God is silly in a world as terminally ruined as this one. No God would create such things as brain-implanted microchips and radio-based mind control. No God could do something like that. But I don’t. I don’t believe in him and I’m so hungry. I’m so, so hungry and I need to go. I really need to go. I need food. I wish I could just do it. There’s a man out there, I can see him. He’s walking his dog. If I pull back the plastic sheeting I can see him looking and I know he’s reporting back. I need to go. I need to go. It’s gotten worse, I know. I mean the spying. I mean the snoops. It’s worse every day now. It wasn’t like this before. If I open the door he’ll see me. They’ll record me. They’ll take me in. You know what they do to people they take in? They cut out their brains. They'll cut out your brain. Jesus. I know about them. They'll cut it out. I can open the door. I can do it. Please, I can do it. I can do this. I need to do this, just this once. I can open the door. Please, just this once." ]	2
"It takes one to know one" "Not going to heaven, so lets raise hell" "Fuck boats, I'll swim" "I've been meaning to tell you... I have a terminal illness" "That door was locked the entire time" "It's just a little scrape" "I'll protect you until the very end" "What if they just want a hug?" "Do you think zombies remember love?" "I'm the clever one, you're the potato one" "What about angels?" "Secrets keep us safe" "I guess it's all in your perspective" "Life's hard and then you die" "Love me?"	[WP] Use one of the following quotes to build a story around	[ "I don't think anyone thought that it would actually happen. The zombie apocalypse, I mean. For all their zombie handbooks and survival plans, no one truly believed that it was a possibility. Even now, many of us still felt like we'd wake up one day to find out that the past few months were a construct of some elaborate dream, or a prank. (Ha ha, you sure got us fooled!) But until then, we made do. We lived what remained of our lives behind barricaded walls, each of us hoping that we weren't next to contract the disease. \n\nI sighed and rolled my shoulders, trying to work out some of the ever-present kinks, as I lit the lanterns we had stationed at regular intervals along the wall. By the time I walked back over to my fellow lookouts the sky was completely dark, except for lightning streaking through the clouds in the distance. I groaned inwardly, getting drenched on guard duty was not my idea of fun.\n\nI sat down next to Amber and Troy, who were chatting with each other as they shared a flask of coffee. I helped myself to a cup as I listened to what they were discussing.\n\n\"Do you think zombies remember love?\" Amber asked, her brown eyes watching the lightning in the distance, a clap of thunder punctuating her question.\n\nTroy sneered and shook his head, “I don't think there's anything going on inside their heads, except the drive to kill and feed.” \n\nAmber looked back at Troy and frowned, “You don't think there's even a corner of humanity there? Some recollection of who they are?”\n\n“You think that that'd be a good thing? To remember what you were and to be trapped in this shell of a body?” Troy drank some coffee, before continuing, “Let me tell you a story about my Uncle Gus. He was 56 when he had his first stroke which left him pretty messed up, but still able to function. But after his second stroke he was a vegetable. Mind you, you could see that his mind was still there. Gus was well aware of being trapped in a state where he could do nothing for himself, couldn't communicate, could barely move and I doubt he had control of his bodily functions.” Troy shook his head vehemently, “No, I can't say that there is any humanity left in these zombies. Otherwise I'd have to feel sympathy for them. And I really don't want to have any feeling for the bastards that took my family.”\n\nAmber reached out and placed a hand on Troy's forearm, “I'm sorry, I guess... I just thought that if they had some memory, it would comfort them and maybe there could still be potential for a cure.” \n\nI smiled wryly, “As much as we all wish that was a possibility, I don't think that zombies stand a chance of being cured. You've seen the various injuries and decay they all suffer from. They're dead, they're all rotting corpses running around. There's no chance for a cure, and no way in hell do they remember anything, let alone love.” \n\nI pulled out my last packet of cigarettes and as I lit one, I wondered if there would be a chance of another packet in a supply run sometime this week. I blew the smoke out over the wall and watched the storm as it grew closer. \n\nI wondered how long it would be until we were all lost to the darkness.", "You hastily make your way towards a run-down barn, ducking down to make sure no one sees you. Sweat runs down your forehead, as you wipe it off with the hilt of your gun. You take out the ammunition clip and weighed it. It was too light. That firefight back at the military checkpoint was probably unnecessary, but at least you saved those prisoners, right? Right?\n\nWell, there's no point in justifying what you've done now. They're searching for you, and they aren't just sending a small squad after you. You hear a loud rumble in the distance, and you instinctively fell down to the ground. Through a tiny crack in the wall, you see a group of men, armed to the teeth with assault rifles and ballistic vests walking down the dirt road leading towards your location. You count five. I'm sure I can take them on. You think to yourself, with a slight grin. That grin was slowly wiped off the next second, as an Armored Personnel Carrier (APC) rolled in behind them. The top turret was definitely manned. \n\nThey brought a tank!? That's so unnecessary! \n\nYou look through your equipment, a little upset at the fact that you have nothing that could take out an armored vehicle. An empty assault rifle, a pistol with half a clip left, and once again, nothing that could take out a tank. \n\nAlright, think Tanner, think! Identify the problem. They have a tank. Identify possible solutions. I could kill myself. No, dumb idea. What if they just want a hug? You quietly giggle to yourself, probably should not be making jokes at this point of time. Other solutions...\n\nYou look back through the crack in the wall. The five militia that were previously walking together seems to have split up, making your work much easier. You scan the five of them, looking for a way out. As you observe the first four, your hope slowly dwindles down, until you make out the what the fifth militiamen was holding around his waist. \n\nYou fucking idiot, no one needs that many grenades.\n\n___\n\nYou make your way through a hole at the back of the barn, and use the tall grass as cover, lying down prone and making your way slowly towards the fifth guy. You could be in a library right now, reading your favorite book, but nooooo, you just had to become a secret agent. Fucking civilians never have to face a tank.\n\nAs you stay crouched behind a hay bale, you wait for the unsuspecting idiot to walk pass by you. You could hear the crunch of his footsteps, his labored breathing, his feverish cough grow louder and louder. And I have to kill a sick guy. I don't wanna catch whatever he has. Well fuck it, let's do this quick and clean. \n\nYou pop out from behind the hay bale as you catch the militiaman by surprise. His sluggish reaction allowed you to quickly grab his gun, twist his arm, and snap his neck in one swift motion. Nailed it. \n\nThe enemy's behind that hay bale!\n\nOh fuck me. You quickly grab his grenade satchel and sling it over your shoulder, making a sprint towards the run-down barn. You hear the sound of the APC turret grind towards you, it's machinegun primed and loaded, ready to blow you to pieces. A loud click was heard.\n\nboom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom!\n\nI HATE TAAAANNKKKSSS!!! \n\nYou sprint for dear life and manage to hide behind solid cover as the tank's machinegun starts to rip apart the already-worn-out-building. Splinters and debris fly across the room as the tank's machinegun relentlessly fires a barrage of bullets, just one shot is all they need to turn me into minced meat. \n\nYou search through the poor guy's satchel and count six grenades. You definitely did not need six of these pal. Your mind races as you struggle to formulate a plan. Think Tanner, think! Identify the problem! There's a fucking tank shooting at me! Identify possible solutions! \n\nPlan A, wait for the tank to stop shooting. That denotes that one of their guys is about to come up to my position to determine my status. Then what? I take him out, they find out i'm still alive, and fire more bullets at me. Bad plan.\n\nPlan B, stealthily crawl back to the hay bale. Grab dead guy's uniform, disguise myself and hope to god they don't figure out they had a sixth member with them. Heh, hope huh? A little bit of hope is better than none.\n\nYou fall down onto the ground, and start crawling through the tall grass and thick brush, hoping they won't notice you. The relentless barrage of machinegun fire seems to be never-ending. Ammo's pretty expensive, you guys might wanna save those for when an actual threat shows up later. Your slow crawl seems to have gone unnoticed, as you finally make it to the dead guy's body and hurriedly changed into his uniform. Luckily it was just a jacket with their cultish insignia on it, unlike that time you had to infiltrate a Russian military camp. Boy did those guys enjoy their uniform.\n\nYou slowly make your way towards the back of the tank, improving your posture until you look like an extra that's been sent to investigate. One of them turns and notices you. Fuck.\n\nYour killer instincts almost kicked in, until you realized that he's not aiming a gun at you. Instead, he seems to be running to you. \"You there! Where's reinforcement? I thought I asked for a second tank!\"\n\nA second tank??? No, fuck that shit, I just wanna leave this place now.\n\n\"Uhh, yes sir, let me go back and call for reinforcement.\" He smirks at you, probably thinks he's better than you. Douche. He turns his back at you, making his way towards the other three, probably still thinking the intruder's inside the barn. \n\nYou make your way up onto the APC, inconspicuously opening the hatch, jumped in and proceeded to shoot everyone inside. Heh, problem solved. I'm a god. Wait no, i'm a god WITH A TANK. As you head onto the driver's seat, looking outside, the four militiamen wonder why the tank's stopped firing. How do you drive this thin- whoops. The tank whirs to life, engine's roaring. You push the pedal to the metal, going full speed, running over the little resistance that was in your way. \n\nAhahahaha! Take that you douche!\n\nAlright, you think to yourself. Situation analysis. I have an empty rifle, a pistol with half a clip left, a satchel of six grenades, and a tank. Possible destinations? Definitely not going to heaven, so let's raise hell." ]	2
	[WP] You and some friends meet to play poker. After playing until early morning, you slowly start to realize that none of you has the desire to leave the room you are currently in.	[ "“Read em’ and weep boys.” He lays down three aces.\n\nThe other three players groan and Mark rakes in his winnings of seven cigarettes. \n\n“I’m out this round, gotta take a piss.” Dan stands and leaves the table. He unbuttons his jumpsuit as he walks. He can’t believe that he lost, trip kings for nothing more than three less smokes.\n\nHe smashes his shin into something metal and sharp, maybe a stool. It’s too dark to tell. “Who the fuck moved this?!” he yells and kicks whatever it was across the floor. It skitters across the concrete. He can hear Phil bridge shuffling the cards on the steel table. No matter dark it gets he can always find the bucket in the corner, it stinks so bad.\n\nThe walls of the room shake subtly and small moats of dusts fall from the ceiling, pebbles bounce off the floor. Dan loses his footing slightly and sends a stream of urine up the wall and onto his boots. “Fuck.”\n\n“You’re on piss bucket duty now!” Mark and Steven yell over. \n\nPhil deals, the cardboard sliding across the smooth steel. “Any idea what time it is?” he asks. All four men ponder briefly.\n\n“It’s gotta be at least three or four in morning.” Mark states. “I can feel it in the air, it’s getting hot out. It’s going to be a long day.” He runs his hands through his short hair. “I wonder if we’ll get to see the sun today.”\n\nDan’s walks back across the room having finishing his business. “I doubt it. It’s been a few months since we saw it last, that cloud cover isn’t going anywhere.” He cracks his shin off something metal again. “FUCK SAKES! Why don’t we organise this shit!?” He kicks the obstruction, this time it doesn’t move. He knows his toe is broken. “Can’t see a GOD DAMN thing in this place! Keep tripping on things! I’m gettin fed up!”\n\n“Just follow the paths man, chill.” Steve tries to calm him down. A deep rumbling shakes the room once more. The glasses in the kitchenette clink together loudly. \n\n“Don’t tell me to fuckin’ chill!” Dan finds his way to the table and sits. “Sooner or later one of the roofs gonna come crashing down on our heads and we’ll all be toast like those fools that stayed outside.”\n\n“Maybe they made the right choice. I bet they all died in the blast. If we were out there and not in here we’d be gone too, at least we wouldn’t be hungry.” Mark state flatly with a sigh.\n\n“We could try and go for a run.” Steve suggests. Dan swipes the table and sends the cards sprawling across the floor.\n\n“You just don’t get it!” He yells, spit flying from his mouth. “The last time we tried that we made it six steps before we went blind! I know we’re going to die in here; I’d rather starve with you guys then cook out there.”\n\n“The bombs stopped dropping a few weeks ago. Maybe we could make it.” Mark struggles to calm his friend. \n\nThe air in the room suddenly pressurizes violently. THRUM-CRACK; the sky outside the bunker erupts into flames and scorching light. Against all odds the walls hold. The four men jump from their now scalding hot metal seats. The noise outside clams and they’re left with the sound of crackling fire outside the door.\n\nDan exhales slowly. “I guess that settles that.”\n\n___________________________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe war started after everyone thought the oil crisis was over. Someone somewhere tripped up and got antsy and all hell broke loose. Mark, Steve, Phil, and Dan were constructing a safety shelter for the city to prepare for the fallout. Now they wait for the food to run out, and their bodies to give up.\n\nFormatting.", "\"David!\" I yell as he doses off. \n\n\"Yes?\" He replies.\n\n\"It's your go man, check or raise?\"\n\n\"Check.\" he says with not very much enthusiasm.\n\n\"Does anybody else feel like we have been playing too long?\" I say\n\n\"No, not really, I feel like I could play at least another eight hours.\" Zach says\n\n\"Something isn't right here\" Evan chimes in.\n\nIt is 6am, what we believe to be sunlight shining in through the basement window strikes my face. I feel groggy, yet exhilarated. This room, there is something happening in here that nobody seems to be acknowledging. How come Zach's parents' haven't come down to check on us? They had to be to the airport around right now and were going to say bye.\n\n\"Zach, where did you say your parents were going?\" I say.\n\n\"Somewhere in Europe.. not really sure to be honest.\" says Zach.\n\n\"Man your dad, he makes good fruit punch.\" Evan chiming in again.\n\n\"Thank you, hey does anybody know what time it is?\" Zach replies.\n\n\"My watch says it is noon.\" David says.\n\nI'm feeling dazed and confused.. did he say noon? I thought the sun just came up, it could only be 7am. I glance at my watch, sure enough it says noon. Then what seems like an hour of poker passes by and I hear the basement door open and it is Zach's dad.\n\n\"Hey guys? How are you feeling? I made up some more punch for you guys if you want.\"\n\nWhy is he making so much punch? Sure he majored in chemistry and can probably make some amazing fruit punch.. wait, he just left to go to Europe this morning. \n\n\"Hey Mr.Zachsdad, weren't you supposed to be leaving for the airport this morning?\"\n\n\"No the plane got canceled and we won't be leaving for another week.\"\n\n\"That sucks\" David says\n\n\"Yeah it is alright though, they discounted it,\" Zach's dad says as he walks up the stairs into the kitchen.\n\n\"It is working honey, they thought it has only been a day, they were down there the entire trip to Europe.\"\n\n\"That's great,\" replies Zach's mom, \"I knew you could do it.\"\n\nZach's dad sits and ponders the damage, a drug that blends time together could do.\n\n\"The president.. if we can slip it to the president, the country will fall, he will think an hour has passed but it has been days. The vice president I'm sure will pay handsomely.\"\n\n\nI am sitting in the basement and glance at my watch again.. it's still noon? That can't be right. I get this urge to walk around, something is very wrong. I smell chemicals coming from upstairs, I look around and everyone is sleeping.. Why haven't we left this room? Sure there is food and a bathroom but it is probably time I head home. I slowly walk up the stairs, for some reason feeling as if I can't leave the room. I finally get to the door and when I open it, it is dark outside, there looks to be a chemistry set on the counter and then Zach's dad walks in.\n\n\"Hey buddy, why don't you walk back downstairs with your friends? It is pretty late.\"\n\n\"How long have I been down there?\" \n\n\"Well you haven't even gone to sleep yet\"\n\nI feel like I just got hit with a train.. what it happening.. that is when I see it.. the remnants of fruit punch in the chemistry set.\n\n\"Zachsdad, what is going on here? Why are you making us punch in your chemistry set?\"\n\n\"Listen.. it is better if you go downstairs and stop asking questions\"\n\nThe news is on in the living room \"Three teens have been missing for two weeks now, ModernDayEinstein, Evan, and David.. if you know their whereabouts, please contact us.\" \n\nThat is when the memories come flooding in. Me and my friends, all sitting around like zombies for days on end, every now and again coming together for poker. Drinking and eating just enough to not notice we are hungry. Zach's dad bringing us down punch at least once a day.\n\nI run, I turn on a dime and I run and I hear Zach's dad chasing behind me until I get out of the house. Fresh air hitting my skin, rain falling onto my face.\n\nSuddenly I jerk awake, my face is wet from David splashing water on my face.\n\n\"It's your turn ModernDayEinstein, Check or Raise?\"\n\nI take a breath and look around, seemingly consumed by this room.. \"Check,\" I mumble as the basement door opens.\n\n\"Anyone want some punch?\" comes echoing down the stairs.", "Asa: I don't want to leave.\n\nJames: What?\n\nAsa: I said, I don't want to leave.\n\nWill: Dude, I know I look good, but there's only so much...\n\nAsa: Don't.\n\nJames: Uh... dude, you want some paper? Uh, tissue?\n\nAsa: It's not going to work. I can't, I...\n\nMason: Shit. Asa, man, what's the matter?\n\nAsa: Outside.\n\nMason: The fuck are you talking about?\n\nWill: Mason, chill.\n\nJames: I... sorry. But Asa, what the shit?\n\nAsa: You can't see outside?\n\nJames: ...\n\nMason: ...\n\nWill: ...\n\nAsa: Everyone's pretending, but, but....\n\nJames: Asa... shh. They'll hear you.\n\nAsa: I don't think I care any more, James. I can't do this.\n\nWill: Only a couple more days.\n\nAsa: I don't want to leave. And I, I know. I know no one wants to leave.\n\nJames: Asa! You're saying too much, too fucking much, they'll...\n\nAsa*: I know. I know, I know. I want them to hear." ]	3
	[WP] It's well-established that in this world, when you lose your job you lose your life. This morning the HR guy walks over to your cubicle and asks to come with him.	[ "Work, some people spend their whole life focused on work, and back then it was considered obsessive, but these day's not so much. Work is everything these days, your life is decided on whether you work or not. In this and age, if you don't have a job over the age of 22 or aren't in school, you are considered a liability, dead weight, and are killed off. So when my boss came over and told me we had to talk, I was stricken with fear. My boss talked to me about how sales were going down and we had to cut people because there wasn't enough money in the budget to pay people, I looked at him, and he looked back at me, and at that moment I understood. He gave me the usual, \"sorry, but we have to\" and walked away. I looked at the place I worked, and was mad, mad at my boss, mad at the world. How could life be decided on whether you have a job or not. But, eventually I came to terms with it, and sighed, and started to walk out. I looked at my co-workers, who all avoided eye contact, they knew, and I said goodbye. I walked outside and looked at the place that had decided on whether I lived or not, and sneered at the big M on top of the fast food restaurant.", "Another day, another dollar, right? Maybe not. Today could be the day, so I made sure to hug Timmy and Maddie extra hard at bedtime, and I kissed Janis extra long before coming to work today. Ted had given me the heads-up last week, and I had been hearing the rumors since. Ol' You-Know-Who is getting canned. Walking papers. Fired. These new foreign owners don't mess around, either. They brought in their own crew after the takeover and there aren't very many of us original staff left. \n\n\"Hi Pete!\" Said Marge, sounding chipper as she walks by. But I can see her face change as she passes. Eyes to the floor, forced smile sliding off as we pass in the hallway. She knows. They all know. And they're already thinking about who's gonna be next. Maybe it will be them? But nobody's reaching out to 'ol Petey. Nobody can do anything. Nobody will try. I'm just a dead man walking, and they can't wait to have me out of their face because I'm a walking reminder of what could happen to them next. Bastards, every one of them! \n\nI sit at my cubicle and put my briefcase on the desk, unlatching it and throwing it open. I've had a few days to put this together. Flashlight, food for a few days and some weapons. We can't bring weapons into the building - they'd know for sure if we intended to harm them, but these -improvised- weapons - I'd been able to sneak these in just fine. A hammer, a few old railroad spikes I'd found as a teenager and a sharpening stone. There's no telling what I'd face upon my exit interview. There were other items in my briefcase: extra batteries, matches, pencils, notebook, compass, fishing line, fire starter and a small hand saw. I might not have any control over where they send me, but I can try and be prepared for it. \n\n\"Mister Weber?\" I jump at the voice. The strange modulation, the crisp accent and the cold sterile tone, devoid of any personality. \"Yes! Hello!\" I stammer, closing my briefcase as I stand. \"Please, come with me.\" Says 'Mister Price'. It's odd that they insist on using similar names to us - why not use their own names? I wonder, for the umpteenth time as I follow 'Mister Price' down the aisle to the human (ha!) resources office, what exactly they are and where do they come from? More importantly, where will they send me? He seems to glide as he escorts me. His inky black skin swirls with deep blue currents and tiny flecks of light, as if he's a clear glass vessel filled with a stormy cosmos that rages within him. they all appear vaguely human, and if it weren't for the fact that they all dress differently, there would be no way to distinguish one from another. Damn. We're here. \n\nMister Price opens the door for me and inside is Miss Shaw. Looking like a store mannequin in her pinstriped business suit, it's impossible to read any emotion from any of their kind. \"Mister Weber, please have a seat.\" Her outstretched hand indicating the chair in front of her desk. I sit down, clutching my briefcase to my chest, wanting this to be over already. \"We're sorry to inform you that your services with the company will no longer be needed. Any belongings you have at your desk will be sent to your family, along with your final earnings. Thank you for your service. You wish to say something?\" I suppose the perplexed look on my face was a dead giveaway. \"Uh... Yea? What happens next? I'd heard rumors, but-\" Miss Shaw's hand comes up from behind her desk with a gun. Not any sort of gun I've ever seen. \"We will send you to one of the millions of worlds we have been to, chosen at random, as is company policy. Haven't you read the handbook?\"\n\nMiss Shaw points the gun at the empty wall of her office, and the air shimmers in a perfect sphere. My ears suddenly pop and there is a moment of disorientation with the instantaneous pressure change. I feel as though I'm leaving my body, watching the horrific scene in front of me through somebody else's eyes. I hear myself let out a chuckle that sounds like the beginning of a psychotic break. Poor 'ol Pete. Poor poor bastard. I clutch my briefcase as I'm shoved into the portal, the gaping maw to a hellish landscape so grim that it breaks the mind to look upon. I'm gonna need a bigger briefcase. ", "Mass executions as Microsoft downsizes\n\nBy Matthew McConnell\n\nCambridge, MA\nJune 18, 2022\n\nUnfortunate news came today in light of over 4,000 public executions which were carried out last Sunday by the now deposed Blockbuster Video, and over 3,000 by Exxon Mobile in April of this year. Microsoft, global PC conglomerate chaired by founder Bill Gates, will be sentencing 5,000 of their longstanding employees to death-by-firing-squad over the next six weeks. Due to economic recession, experts assure that we can expect more such terminations to go on in the weeks to come. \n\nThe news comes after unexplained plummets in Microsoft stocks after the release of last year's fiscal reports. Wall Street day-trader extraordinaire, Jim Thornbrook was not surprised by the drastic drop in the company's value. \"Last year's Tech Expo they showed us Windows 12, and just like we all thought, it was a big, fat Android clone,\" he said to press correspondents, comparing Microsoft's newest operating system to that of search engine monopoly Google co. \"People are done with cheap clones. They're putting their money where it counts.\"\n\nSome have suggested that the executions are meant to restore balance to the company, which has been operating at a loss for the past five years. Microsoft CEO, Greg Schumer, assured us that they have no intention to declare bankruptcy anytime soon.\n\n\"I don't think we're quite there yet,\" he told us this afternoon. \"Executions happen. Business is a bloody game, what can you do?\"\n\nNot everyone was comforted by Schumer's confidence. Allen Banks works as a marketing consultant for Microsoft's Washington DC Office. He received word last Wednesday that he would be one of the 3,000 workers who would be shot dead next month.\n\n\"It's not fair,\" he said. \"I got to die so Bill Gates can buy the newest yacht. If someone got to die, it should be the higher ups. They're the one's who caused this economic crisis.\"\n\nBanks will be survived by his wife Leanne, 34, and his son Jason, 2. We will provide further updates as details roll in.\n\n\n", "It was, I suppose, the natural extension of the \"productivity laws\" that were enacted lo, those many decades ago. intellectually, I was ready for it, but in my heart... In industry today, Termination meant Termination. \nThe Productivity laws came into effect some thirty years ago. The economy had crashed, people rioted, then turned on each other, then starved, and a new political party emerged. The Economy party argued that unemployment, pensions, handouts, welfare, unemployment benefits, employee turnover, and the like artificially skewed the natural order of an economic system. They were firmly entrenched now, and basically, you produced, or you were eliminated. This went for people, machines, even entire corporations. \nThey usually sent Bosco, but today, it was Hiram. Hiram was a hulk of a man, easily six three, and though he had been bred for manual labor, his mental profile put him neatly in line with a clerical position. They probably sent Hiram because Bosco was a good deal smaller than me, and though he had been trained, it was doubtful he could have pulled me out of the Project management cubicle farm alone...and HR always traveled alone for some reason when escorting people down that long, brightly lit hallway at the north end of our little gopher ranch. Daily, you saw people enter the hallway, but only Bosco and Hiram ever emerged from it. \nOur piece of cubicle farm heaven had not done well lately. Project Management metrics included things like how close to budget did you stay, how close to the timeline, how many benchmarks did you hit on time, and how many of these beans hit the floor, and how many of those beans made it down the chute. Our part of the PM Tank was floundering, and we all knew it. Many heated arguments had occurred in the conference room, and way too often, Our boss, Patricia, had overridden our most strident arguments for a little less risk taking, a little more padding in our projections, and using a little larger budget reserves when calculating costs. I was generally a little louder, a little more emphatic, a little more boisterous than the others, predominately because Patricia and I, outside of work, had developed a little project of our own...keeping our professional peers from knowing that we had been doing the 'tween the sheets tango for over four years. Fraternization between employees was something you could be fired for. Not fired, like in my dad's day, but really fired. They used an incinerator for that. On it's highest setting, you were reduced to ash in a matter of milliseconds. You never felt it. That was reserved for those that were retiring after so many years with the company. You got to eat a real nice meal, have a chat with your CEOs, and hang out with the other retirees for a weekend of fun in the sun before they flashed you. If you got fired for cause, like stealing money or something, they lowered the setting, and the reduction took minutes. Saved money though, since the temperatures were generally a tenth of what a true retirement flash was. Ordinary termination, like layoffs, usually involved a nice mixture of ketamine and potassium chloride. You drifted of to sleep, and never woke up. \nPatricia hadn't reported to her desk that morning. It wasn't a big deal, We got eleven personal days a year, plus two weeks vacation, and weekends. The harsh reality of economics was brutal when it came to the end of your career, but those years in the middle were usually pretty good. I wished that I had been given the chance to say a goodbye or two. Part of me ached for Patricia. We really loved each other. She would be heartbroken.\nThe team was failing, the numbers were off, and someone's cubicle had to be vacated. It would be filled by lunch. I had long ago decided on the \"Stoic\" exit. I would stand, adjust my tie, put on my suit jacket, and lead, not follow Bosco or Hiram to that hallway. I'd meet eyes, nod, smile slightly, and march ramrod straight to my end. I would not be dragged out, or tasered, or any of the other undignified exits I had witnessed.\nWhen we got to that normally one way hallway, I turned to enter it, but Hiram caught my arm. \"That way.\" he said, indicating the executive corridor just beyond. Patricia's boss, and presumably that person's boss, and so on worked that way. I had never been down that hall. I looked at him, surprised. I am not sure if I was more surprised that he spoke, since I had never, in eleven years heard him utter a syllable; or that I was being taken down the executive hallway. \n\"Promotion.\" He grunted. That stunned me. You didn't get promoted past your track. My track stopped right where I was, no further. The Senior project manager track was a totally different kind of party, and I was never invited. Basically, you took your UEAT (Uniform Employability Aptitude Test) after high school, and went to your training program. You followed the predefined career path, and arrived at your terminal position, generally within one to four years. Much more efficient than wasting time in a University as an unproductive member of society, possibly chasing a career goal that was either over crowded, beyond your capability, or both. You went to work, learned whatever you needed to, and kept on working in your \"final\" position. Once in a while, someone showed extraordinary promise, and they were selected to go a bit higher, move up a slot, but that was rare. Apparently I was being promoted. My heart sank.\n", "\"Joshuages, I need you in my office in five minutes.\" commanded the VP of operations. \n\n\"Yes sir\" I replied. \n\nA sharp pain hit my stomach and heart. I thought of my mother, my girlfriend, both of whom I recently argued with.\n\nThen, anger. Vitriolic anger. I reflected on the thankless work I did for S5 Inc., a tech company that barely made it past its startup phase if not for some lucky contracts that I had sold two years earlier. \n\n\nMy VP was named Hans. German guy new to his 50s, was a Vegas regular, and gloated on stories of his wealthy connections. He was quite out of touch with the employee base - more so now that he got a dividend cheque rumored to be in the 7 figures.\n\nI knew this was coming because one of our marketing initiatives had tanked, and I was the PM on the project. It was an asinine idea and me and my team worked inhumane hours to give it life, and later, resuscitate it, but still zero ROI. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beg, and I wanted to plead, but I am too proud for any of those things. \n\nI made my way through the rows of cubicles trying to ignore my churning stomach. My colon felt like it was going to evacuate brown and yellow sewage into my pants. I was scared. \n\n\nI walked into his office, he started \"I just got off the phone wi-\"\n\nWithout breaking eye contact, I removed my fathers old 1911 from my shoulder holster and squeezed the trigger. The concussive pop, followed by the ringing in my ears seemed to draw attention away from the bullet perforating the bridge of his nose and spraying a pink mist on to the wall behind him. The shell casing tapped on the floor and fell silent. \n\n\nThe aroma of gun powder and smoke overtook the room. \n\n\"Fuck you\" I said.\n\n\nLooking at the notes on his desk, we had just received 12 purchase orders from the biggest retailing giant in the country. ", "\"Hey, could you come see me in my office?\"\n \nShit. That little prick from HR wants me.\n\nOh... maybe.. well, today's the day.\n\nI sat for a second and stared at the second drawer down. \n\nI had been slipping recently. I probably wasn't trying hard enough or doing my best. I lost that big account a week ago and I haven't been very productive otherwise.\n\nI stared at that drawer, long and hard. \n\nShould I do it? I mean I guess.\n\nThey can't take me. I know how it all goes and if they won't keep me here there's no way in hell I'm going to let them take me out. Not like this.\n\nI got the wife to support and my kid to take care of. I know life won't be the same, we'll probably have to move, I think she'll understand once I explain it to her.\n\nI reached under my desk and ripped off the key that I had taped there.\n\nI hope she'll understand. I wouldn't want her to leave me once she finds out but right about now this seems to be my only option. \n\nI still the key in and unlock the drawer.\n\nShe'll know its my only option, she'll have to understand. But fuck it I gotta do what I gotta do. \n\nI open the drawer, grab my pistol, load the clip in and tuck it into my belt, covering it with my shirt.\n\n\"I'll be right there, sir\" I yelled down the hall.\n\nIt was either them or me.", "\"rick...\"\n\n\"Rick...\"\n\n\"RICK!\"\n\nMy eyes finally focused, and it seemed as if I was watching Terry shake my limp body from the camera in the ceiling. I shook my head back and forth to clear it. \"Wha...?\" I muttered.\n\n\"Come on man. Don't make her wait, get up now and go with HR. You know you're at the top of this division this month. You're worth ten of us man so you have absolutely nothing to fear.\" Terry's mouth was close to my ear and the sickening flavor of the onion rings he had for lunch broke me out of my trance. In front of us a sharply dressed woman in a red suit stood patiently, viewing the events before her with an expressionless stare.\n\n\"Do as they say man and no matter what, you know we're like family. Remember our pact? I'll take care of Laurie and the kids if it comes to that. You have nothing to worry about Rick. Nothing at all.\"\n\nTerry's fear was thinly veiled, but his words helped me to stand on my twig-like legs. As my head rose over my cubicle I could see hundreds of eyes looking in my direction. Many were wide in shock. Many were clenched in anger. And more than a few seemed just a bit relieved. \n\nThe red suit spoke in an even, hard voice.\n\n\"This way, Rick.\"\n\nI followed her up the walkway between the cubicles to the room at the end of the hall. It seemed to take no time at all. She held the door open for me and as I stepped through, I wished that I could be less numb. I tried to see my wife and daughters clearly in my mind, but all I got was static. My chest controlled my fall as I slammed into the metal chair that faced the gray far wall. She went around and sat at a steel desk to my right, and I put all my energy into remaining emotionless as she cleared her throat.\n\n\"Rick you've worked at this company alongside your peers for 20 years now, and you have shown us time and time again that the economical climate does not faze you.\"\n\nHer words were a beeline to my ear and I swallowed slowly, the anxiety building in my heart as she continued.\n\n\"We at Americorp will forever remain indebted to you. Your sacrifices for us will never be forgotten, and your earning strategies will be implemented in all of our offices across the globe. Your legacy will live on, rest assured.\"\n\nMy grip tightened on the seat below me. Slick with perspiration, they seemed to skid before grabbing hold.\n\n\"However, I am here to inform you that your job title is no longer available in this region.\"\n\nThere it was.\n\nMy pulse quickened and my mouth became dry, but I looked forward nonetheless. I won't give her the satisfaction. These bastards will have to grind me like a stone to get something from me. This she-wolf is going to have to rip me in hal--\n\n\"There is a position available.\"\n\n...\n\n...What?\n\nShe stepped around the desk with a folder in her hand. \"Your work ethic and customer service will lend well to you in this new position, should you accept it. You already have an assignment, and you would have to start immediately.\" She sucked her teeth sharply. \"You cannot be unemployed, you understand.\"\n\nThe folder was placed in my lap, and her head came to rest near my right shoulder from behind.\n\n\"You're a great worker Rick. This has been recognized, and a position has been carved out for you.\"\n\nShe reached around and opened the folder. I slowly lowered my head. My eyes focused, and in bright color, I saw Terry's company picture. His toothy grin and honest eyes stared back in complete innocence.\n\n\"How about it, Rick? Would you like to join HR?\"", "I knew it was over. I knew it was my time. Time stayed still when I heard those words. There were no options left for me. It was the end. The walk that took seconds felt like it took hours. There was not a soul in the office. It was if they found out what was happening and left. No one wanted to see me go. \n\nHe lead me into his office. The lights were off and I could only see the glow from his laptop. This is how I'm going out. Looking at pictures of a guy, who I barely knew, and his family from last years trip to Aruba. He pulled out a match and struck it. I match flickered and I could make out another object on his desk. It was a box on some sort. I guess it didn't matter now.\n\nHe brought the match down to box and lit two bigger matches. At that point, the lights all came on. Coworkers came from every which way shouting. I was in shock. They seemed to be singing some sort of song. \"Happy Birthday to Tom!\"\n\nI glanced over at the calendar. It read \"July 16\". My birthday. " ]	8
anything goes from vampire hunter to politician ;)	[WP] You are born without a soul. While this causes a lot of issues with your state of mind and your relationship with religion, there is one benefit in particular that makes you useful in a way.	[ "Feelings. \n\nSuch commonplace things, yet they constantly interfere with everyday life. People feel happy; they feel sad. They are angry; they are in love. Every change brings a new approach. They either become more productive or less productive. They can either function socially or don’t get out of bed. It’s irrational chaos. \n\nTake my sister for example. She was at my place, working on a project when she received a text from her male counterpart and suddenly burst into tears. She began sobbing all over the pillows I’d purchased a week before, her mascaras smearing onto the white fabric. I wanted to grab it. She was ruining it. But I couldn’t reach it among the wails. \n\n“Was I not enough? What does she have that I don’t?”\n\nPointless questions; ones that would clearly never be answered. Her reaction was ridiculous, completely irrational.\n\nPain, I understand. \n\nPain hurts. It is a neurological reaction telling the brain to stop what it’s doing or risk further damage. It makes sense. It’s logical. My sister was acting like someone was sawing her leg off. She couldn’t eat; she couldn’t sleep. For the next month she was stuck in an unproductive, irrational state. It was ridiculous. I didn’t get it.\n\nSometimes I wish I understood them. Emotions, I mean. Then I could see why people hate my work. I could understand why they riot and yell, why my mother quite talking to me and my extended family shuns me. They tell me I can’t do my experiments. That I shouldn’t use children, especially if they have life altering effects. They use words like “wrong” and “unethical.” \n\nI wish they could see the logic. One child suffers, yes. But their suffering has the potential to save thousands after it. Prolonging the human race. Isn’t that our purpose? The reason for being here? Our species is meant to survive and I was only trying to help it. If they just understood. Then, maybe they’d take me out of this place. Maybe they’d let me live.\n\nBut, alas, they’ve decided to terminate me. \n\nI’ve been deemed too unsafe for human life. I am a risk to others, as long as I live. It’s kind of ironic, the way they’re killing me with their intention being to prologue the human race. That was what I was trying to do. I guess they just didn’t approve of my methods. \n\nWhat a shame.\n", "I walk into the dark room and close the door. The man sits under a single light bulb, blindfolded, arms tied to armrests. He turns to the sound of the door closing. \"Who's there\" he whispers. \"Please is someone there? I've been here for hours.\" \n\nI ignore his calls and walk over to the table against the wall. His file and my tools sit there. I open the file and look at the information. Roland Proffer, 38, homegrown terrorist, links to other terrorist organizations. Information required. I look at the information required and then turn the page. The second page says informal interview. I nod and grab the table, rolling over to Mr. Proffer. \n\nI pull off his blindfold. \"Hello Mr. Proffer I'm here to conduct your interview.\" The man has eyes like a cornered animal. \"Who the fuck are you\" He practically yells. Sweats already rolling down his face. \n\n\"No one Mr. Proffer this is an informal interview\" \n\nI pull over a chair and sit across from him. \"I need names Mr. Proffer, you have a lot of materials, very specific materials. Who supplied you, who helped you, I need everything you know. If you tell me this interview is over.\"\n\nMr. Proffer calms himself and looks at me, then looks at my bag. He sizes me up then makes an....unfortunate decision. \"I don't know anything, I'm not a terrorist.\" \n\nI sigh. I was hoping this would go quickly. I don't mind my work, I just sometimes like to have a break. This is the third interview today and I already missed my favorite show. \n\n\"Lets see what you know in a few minutes then Mr. Proffer. Hopefully you gained some insight, I'm an impatient man.\" \n\nI think a few fingers will go first, he has a lot to spare. ", "I was wearing headphones, so the only sound in the room was the clicking of my controller as I pulled the triggers.\n\nOn the screen, my avatar fired off round after round of virtual death into my fellow players, none of whom had ever actually been in my presence.\n\nI'd only ever met three people, and from the knocking I assumed at least one of them was at my door.\n\n\"I'll be back in a few minutes noobs\" I said to my online cadre. They indicated their assent as my character vanished from their world.\n\nI stepped over the piles of soda cans and hot pocket packaging to look through the peephole. It was all three of them. The Tall Man, the Stout Woman, and the one with the Hood. I'd never seen his face.\n\nI opened the door.\n\n\"It's been a while, Carter\" the Tall Man said. He usually did the talking when it was more than one of them. \"Are you going to invite us in?\"\n\nI gave them an exaggerated gesture. and threw open the door. \"Welcome to my palace.\"\n\nThey shuffled in. I was amused as they did their best not to touch anything. The man with the hood held what looked like an animal carrier, like he always did.\n\nThey only ever came by for one reason, yet they always seemed sheepish asking for it. Such hypocrites. \n\n\"So there's another one then.\"\n\nThe Tall Man answered me. \"We just found out yesterday. We had to make arrangements to acquire the package, conceal the reality of the situation. And of course, travel here.\"\n\nThe man in the hood hoisted his charge, giving it to me. As he did that, the Stout Woman began speaking in Latin.\n\nI rolled my eyes. Such drama.\n\n\"Just leave it. You know I'll take care of it like I always do.\"\n\nThe woman shut up. The Tall Man couldn't meet my gaze.\n\n\"This service is appreciated. The consequences to everyone in the world if this situation were to go unresolved would be...\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah, save me the speech. You know who I am, what I am. I don't have the kind of moral difficulties you do. That's why you come to me with this.\"\n\nI paused.\n\n\"In fact, it's what you pay me for.\"\n\nThe Tall Man grew visibly uncomfortable. Regardless, he produced his customary envelope filled with 100 dollar bills. That should hold me for a while.\n\n\"OK, so is there anything else?\" The room was silent as my question hung in the air.\n\nThe three of them moved towards the door. They never liked hanging around while I did my thing. The Man in the Hood would probably be back later to take care of whatever was left.\n\nAfter they departed I went to my kitchenette. Standard bachelor apartment stuff, except for the oven. The oven was industrial strength. Most of the time I used it to make pizza, my sole culinary accomplishment, but tonight I'd be cooking something else. I turned it up to six hundred sixty six degrees and set it to alert me when it got to the right temperature.\n\nI stepped over the carrier the Hooded Man had left me and popped my headset back on and logged back on my clan server. It'd be a little bit til the oven was ready.\n\nThe sound of the baby crying distracted me, so I put the carrier in the closet til the oven timer beeped.\n\n\n\n", "I've heard that people who are color-blind don't always know their condition until they've been tested on the fact. It doesn't seem to bother many of them too much, because they don't have any perspective on that which they lack. Unless they were to recieve color in their sight, they would never fully comprehend what made them different from everyone else.\n\nSo don't pity me. I don't have any previous reference to what having a soul is like, and I won't ever get one.\n\nNonetheless, color blindness does have an affect on their lives. Perhaps they can't participate in some activities, or are disadvantaged in some way. If, for example, they needed to analyze a graph for their job, they may not be able to distinguish between some of the hues used in the graph. They may not be able to appreciate some paintings as well as others who can see the whole color spectrum.\n\nThese are minor things. When I tell you I am uniterested in the church I am being sold, understand that I am in a unique position where I can not possibly gain from it what others may be able to.\n\nI imagine that many people who's vision is unhindered by an inability to differentiate some colors are saddened at the thought of those who are hindered this way. While it is true that the color blind lack, there are some things that can only be done from their perspective. It is not a deficiency, but rather a different a view from a different vantage point. Some things become easier to pick out. If the lines that divide some shades become dull in some instances, others become more distinct.\n\nMy point is that I am in a unique position to explain to you why you shouldn't cry over your lost soul.\n\nTry to be optimistic. It's as I've said, you're getting a new perspective. And I can tell from personal experience that being barred from heaven and hell isn't as big of a deal as everyone says it is. Probably. I mean no one alive has been to either place right? You're just as color blind as the rest of us. \n\nYou and I, we aren't ever going to have any insight to what we lack. \n\n\n\n\n", "And it was summer, too. It's always a pity when it's summer. The young have so much life ahead of them, and when does fate decide to cut that short? Summer; ice cream vans have become ironic undertakers in recent times. Parents never seem to want to go with their kids for ice cream. They could avoid the grief. My friend, he doesn't quite understand that. He is just looking across the table from me with that silly lopsided grin he always wears. It would be endearing, but I am not the kind that takes well to hopeful gazes. \n\n\n\"Mickey, you gotta lighten up. A job like yours, it'll crush a man's soul.\"\nHe takes a swig of cider, and I join him. He's a good kid. I know that. He is the closest thing to friend I understand. I'm late, regardless, and I leave him to his company. The drive is long, but not unpleasant. A slight wind amplifies through the open window, and cools the sweat on my brow. I pull into the parking lot ahead of the family and begin walking to the grave, passing rows of people like me. Husks of times old. I take up my shovel and guard the grave. Kim; the girl's name is Kim. Was Kim. The coffin is carried up by crying people, and the sun graces the group with an insulting presence. Words are said, and the coffin is lowered. I dip my head and begin my work, striking the box with dirt. Her name is Kim. I remember the name, as I remember the rest. Why I do is beyond me. \n\n\n(Sorry if it's short. I just wanted to give the prompt a go.)", "A loud, muffled thump from upstairs shakes the building, alerting me to the arrival of my \"handler\". A quick glance at my phone determines that the hoighty-toighty prick was half an hour early. Can't count how many times I've told him to stick to the fucking schedule. Hell, the first time he pulled this shit I hadn't even gotten home yet, he ran into my wife. And what a fun filled, enjoyable evening that was. I hand Scarlet off to her mother, who nods with an apprehensive look in her eyes as I walk upstairs to meet him. \n\nA quick jaunt down the hall and up the stairs finds me pulling a cigarette from the pack in my shirt pocket I casually stroll out onto the rooftop where my handler, Gabriel, awaits. To get it out of the way, Gabriel is an Angel. A literal, honest to God, wings and armor and flowing golden locks fucking Angel. Consequently he stands roughly 6' 7', and(during non-clandestine activities) is in fact equipped with ivory wings (that are surprisingly sturdy), wears armor of a luminescent metal I can't and he won't identify, and is essentially my mainline to the guys upstairs. He appears to fluctuate between various shades of dark brown and olive skin tones, preferring the darker tones for our evening meetings, as now. As I approach him he looks me over with a disapproving look.\n\n\"Arkandalus, you must know the damage you are doing to your body.\" He says in a deep velvety voice that always managed to lower my guard a little. I hated that. \n\n\"I'd hazard a guess that you guys are doing more damage than I am, Gabriel.\" I said, pulling deeply just to emphasize my contempt. \"And I told you, it's Ark.\"\n\n\"There is only one path to salvation Ark, you know this.\" He replied. \"On that note, He requires your aid once more.\"\n\n\"Oh FUCK that, Gabriel! I was literally killed last time. I clawed my way out of the fucking pits, which let me tell you, was neither easy nor enjoyable, brought you what you wanted, and if I'm remembering it correctly, told you guys to fuck OFF for a while. I thought I had made the point clear.\" I said in a hoarse whisper. Can't yell shit like this, although yelling was considered. \n\n\"You need us. We need you. None of us may set foot where we need you to go, and time is almost out.\" That came out pleading, almost defensive. He's worried I won't do it. I've never said no before. That would indicate that this is going to suck. \n\n\"Y'all motherfuckers need Jesus.\" I said mockingly. Unfortunately for them, he's been out of commission for going on 1600 years. \n\n\"Actually, yes. We do. That is why I am here.\" Oh, fuck.\n\n\"No. No, no no. Matter of fact, not just no, but FUCK no! You guys lost LEGIONS, plural, going after him last time! What the FUCK makes you think I'd fare any better?!\" I already know, I'm just stalling. Euli isn't going to like this. \n\n\"Be not truculent, Arkandalus. You know why this task falls to you.\" He said, eyes flashing. \n\n\"It's. Ark.\" I spat, teeth gritted\" The good old 'manufacturers defect'. You know, I'm beginning to think it intentional.\" I said, glaring hard. Gabriel glared right back. It's hard to intimidate an Angel. \"What's the timeline?\"\n\n\"Insertion tonight. The Oracles say you'll complete your task in no more than 48 hours, if you complete it at all.\" Gabriel said, shifting his gaze over the city. Wouldn't even look me in the eye when he was asking me to kill myself. \n\n\"If. And what do the ladies have to say about my chances?\" I asked, secretly dreading the answer. They aren't always right, but they are damn near. \n\n\"They are not encouraged.\" he replied, still averting his eyes. \n\n\"What's the pay?\" I asked tossing the butt of my finished cigarette off the roof.\n\n\"Your soul.\" he said simply. I stood dumbstruck for a moment. \n\n\"Salvation?\" No fucking way I thought. \n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"The brass ring? The end? Our contract terminated? Eternal bliss assured?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Not good enough. Consider your request. I'm going to need more.\"\n\n\"You're being offered a chance at being whole, and you're willing to throw it away for greed?\"\n\n\"Gabriel, if I had the option of throwing this shit away I'd have done so the night we met. You said it, you need me. Frankly being lost to the winds of time is sounding better and better the more I get to know you and your crew.\"He rasied his eyebrows questioningly. Yeah, I'd rather be forgotten than your fucking lap dog you massive talking seagull. \"So here's the deal: if you want me to waltz into the fucking Inferno, again, and somehow sneak the greatest soul they ever snared out of there, I'm going to need gear.\" I paused to consider for a moment before continuing, \" Divine gear. Blade, board, and suit at least, although I wouldn't say no to one of those crazy fucking thunder bows you've got up there, cause this damascus steel and crossbow shit just doesn't cut it down there. Bolts don't fly right and even the fucking pests can shred the steel like paper. Additionally, regardless of whether or not I succeed, I'm going to want to worry about literally nothing for the rest of eternity. That means assurances that my wife and child are set on funds, health, immunity from acts of God, for all of us and our possessions. If I don't make it they need to be taken care of. If I do make it, I need to know He's not going to drop my roof on me while I'm enjoying my freedom.\" I lit another cigarette, to add literal fuming to my figurative fuming. Seemed fitting.\n\n\"The gear is approved already, we will stop by the Smith when we leave. Health is approved for all current and future family, although I cannot stop Him from taking His frustrations out on you. You are a favored target. We can keep it to a minimum and replace what is lost, but you know how He gets. The possessions are all approved as well.\" Gabriel finally seemed to be relaxing. He knew they had me. \"And do you really think He'd ask this of you and then kill you for completing it?\" I scoffed.\n\n\"Favorite target. Your words, not mine. He can't kill me while he needs me, but after, who fucking knows? I'd rather take steps. Draw up the contract, I have to go inform my wife.\" I sighed. \"This fucking soul had better be worth it.\"\n\n[This prompt was pretty cool. Will definitely continue it, thanks for the prompt!]\n\nEdit: Forgot a comma.\n" ]	6
	[WP] Life a thousand years after an experiment gone wrong causes everyone on the planet to experience the same day repeating endlessly a-la Groundhog Day	[ "I've lost count over how long it has been since the accident. All I know is that at exactly 7:08 AM June 20th, 2014 my dog will bark, at exactly 7:09AM June 20th, 2014 my kid will be awake, and at exactly 7:30 AM June 20th, 2014 I will burn my hand making coffee. It has been like that for what seems to be the beginning of time now. \n\nFor the first year or so I tried to resist the cycle, I decided not to drink coffee, Instead would indulge in the occasional tea. But why does it matter, the coffee machine will still overflow. I tried to ignore my dog, to ignore its barks and ignore its existence entirely. But nothing works, every single day when the sun pops from its own slumber so began the barking. I hate it. I used to hate it more, so much so that at one point I tried to kill my dog. Somewhere between the 25th year and the 127th, I grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed max. I stabbed it until there was no more blood left, but I couldn't stop. I kept on stabbing it, until all that was left was disfigured mess, pools of blood on my shirt and disgust at my actions. But it meant nothing, the next morning max was still there at 7:08 barking. \n\nDuring the first 100 years or so I thought that the world wasn't so bad. While everything in this world has lost its meaning it also meant, that all our actions lost its consequence. The world lost all order. Crime or whatever that is became rampant. Why would we not let our basic urges consume us when consequences are non-existent. So we let the chaos in our hearts determine the world amongst us. There was rape, there was murder, there was gluttony, and there was greed. The darkest side of humanity came to the light of day. I murdered someone. It was somewhere around the 145th year. He was 5ft 11 with a dragon tattooed on his left shoulder that could be seen down his sleeves. Wearing a standard prisoner's orange jumpsuit his face was marked with the strange combination of fear and desperation. He attacked my wife, as we were taking Susan to the playground. I had never fired a weapon before, but after the 4th break in I decided that to keep my father's old hunting rifle close. I remember seeing his face as he ran towards us. It wasn't that of a rapist, filled with lust. It wasn't that of a man seeking to enjoy his freedom anymore. It was just simply a face of fear. But at that moment I had to fire, at that moment there were no choices left. As that man dropped into a pool of blood spurting from his heart, his face filled with gratitude, and he told me \"Thank You\". \n\nAfter that for the next 100 years the world started quieting down. There no longer was such chaos, and pain. We all accepted our fate. Our carnal instincts meant nothing as the days continued to pass, and everything was still the same. Order was restored as the people explored all realms of possibilities; we made fascinating advances in science, philosophy and politics. We achieved one milestone after another like the cure for cancer. Greed was eliminated, Fear was destroyed, world hunger was solved, but we all still remained stuck in time. \n\nNo amounts of time could cure what has happened to us. The events of that day June 20th, 2014, became a curse. Playing with my daughter in the playground, formerly a rare treat with my career became the very essence of Sisyphus’s punishment. Starting at around 300-400 years after the experiment, I did everything in my power to cure boredom. I learned to play piano, and now am capable of playing all the classics from memory. I started reading again, finishing all the classics. I learned different languages, capable of speaking exactly 37 and currently working on my 38th Icelandic. But after 200 years I lost all sense of existence. I couldn’t stand it anymore the boredom, the pointlessness of everything. So I fell, I started using drugs. I dabbled with every single drug known to humanity cocaine, heroine, ecstasy, DMT, crystal meth etc. At first I found solace in the temporary amounts of happiness, it provided. But the more I used, the more I needed it. The more drugs I took the more I needed to maintain the same level of pleasure that filled my brain with numbness. \n\nBy 700 years or so after the experiment the drugs didn’t work anymore. I overdosed almost everyday because that was the only way that anything could still hold interest. But everyday I still woke up in the same place, at the same time with the same person around my arm. It was still June 20, 2014. \n\nBy 900 years or so after the experiment all shreds of hope that there was a cure were diminishing. The rays of light, the clear blue sky, the smell of food and sound of chirping birds which used to fill the days with laughter became the main instigators of our purgatory. People started getting together everyday and committing mass suicide together. I did too. It didn’t work. \n\nNow it is 1000 years after the experiment. Even though the complexion of my skin still remains unchanged as if I was permanently on Botox. I feel old. I questioned why we were sentenced to this torture a long time ago once. Now I just accept. Now I just focus on, keeping this journal hoping that our suffering will not be lost. As well as having fun with my kid trying to maintain that the smile on her face never dies. For it is the only thing I have left. \n", "Today was the day.\n\nI woke up and took a shower for exactly eight minutes and thirty seconds. I walked out, without toweling myself. I walked three steps into the living room, turned right, walked three more, turned turned left, and walked into the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and took out three eggs. I tossed them at the wall one by one, to the left, to the right, to the left again. Looked right. I knew those patterns. I turned on the radio, twisted the knob and left it on an empty AM band.\n\nI glanced at the clock without moving. I waited two minutes and fifty-one seconds. I walked forward and opened the window, then looked down at the building below.\n\nI saw Jay and Han and Chloe's heads sticking out of the windows below. Looked good. Keeping my head at the correct angle, I looked up towards the buildings. \n\nI could see it at the end of the street. Cars accelerated and braked in perfect formation around it as the soccer ball collided into obstacle after obstacle, ricocheting and bouncing and always, always remaining in the air. Old Singh strolled out of the Subway, threw away his meatball sub and dribbled the ball on his knees before spinning and giving the ball a massive kick. It flew upwards towards us. Chloe did her weird swinging head move and the ball's trajectory reverted to the vertical. Han tapped it as he always did, and it went to Jay, who slapped it upwards with clenched fists. \n\nIt came towards me, and I arched my head back. Blam. I head-butted the ball back down towards the street, where Carlos in the spinning forklift was in position. The fork was positioned precisely, and the momentum and reaction caused the ball to fly perfectly over our building and out of sight. \n\nI grinned down at the faces below. \"Hey guys, it's Thirdsday again. Are we doing bare-knuckle boxing?\"\n\nJay and Chloe gave thumbs up but Han demurred, claiming he wanted to go to the university and keep working on his project. Every Fifthsday we would gather outside the Town Hall to hear the Dead Languages Poetry Slam. I reminded myself to brush up on my Sumerian before then, but I had plenty of time.\n\nI checked reddit. The subreddit \"CoasttoCoast\" was only a few hours old, but it was already filled with updates. I smiled. Looks like it had passed our section handily. The Canadians were talking shit about how they were going to reach the Pacific before we did, while the PaciAtlan crew were still trying to get their shit together. The Australians, bless their hearts, were still trying to figure out how to keep a soccer ball in the air across a desert continent, and the Europeans were acting fucking smug.\n\nIt probably wasn't going to be today. No matter, we'll try again tomorrow. It's a nice morning routine, and we'd come a long way since the first kickoff. \n\nBut it was time for breakfast. I realized I hadn't had pancakes for awhile. I'd have to break in to Rebecca's apartment for the good mix, but she only came by every few hundred days so she wouldn't mind. I picked up my axe and walked out of my front door, whistling.\n\nI met Cynthia in the hall. She smiled.\n\n\"Nice axe, man. You wanna come around and kill me later?\"\n\nI rolled my eyes. \"Cyn, I just killed you last week.\"\n\n\"I know, but Bob promised me he'd kill me today, and he's not answering his cell.\"\n\n\"Call Dalia, she'll do it.\"\n\n\"Meh. If you're not keen, I might just go play chess in the park. See you later.\"\n\nI gave her a salute and we parted ways. Most people got over the death thing after awhile, but Cynthia still liked it. I didn't judge, the adrenaline rush was the adrenaline rush. But, like religion, drugs, drinking, and all those other hobbies, it tended to get boring after awhile.\n\nI got to the door and started to hack. I sang while I worked, an old Beijing Opera song.\n\n It was a good day. It hadn't been, for awhile. The first few thousand days, had been hell. But we adapted. Now we had our routines, our crazy experiments and challenges, and a millennium of intangible but no less significant global culture that bound us all together, and no permanent consequences beyond the social, emotional and mental. Eternal life, when you got used to it, was good.\n\n", "Every morning I wake up at 6:04am on the same day of the same year. I hear the same cacophony outside of my home. The wails of anguish and pain as we all wake up stuck in the same place and time.\n\nYou'd think eternal life would be a gift, but we are all so limited by the twenty-four hours we have. I have vague memories of life before the accident, the passage of time, the changes it brought to the seasons, to our bodies, to our world and how we lived out lives, but those memories are fading. I wonder one day if I will forget. Some have forgotten, and have they gone mad as well. It is they who scream in the mornings.\n\nI remember thinking once - I don't know when - that if humans could live forever we could accomplish anything. I think we all thought that when the accident happened. But there were too many strings to this eternity. You were stuck with no chance of getting anywhere further than twenty four hours from your present location.\n\nSure a plane could have taken you to the other side of the world in that much time. A shame that so few flew planes anymore. Jobs and money became redundant. Planning anything for longer than twenty-four hours became redundant. Building things that took manpower, concentration, time, even writing a novel became redundant. You would create and when you awoke the next morning it was gone. The machine that caused this mess could not be rebuilt in the time it needed and God knows if anyone even worked on it anymore.\n\nI know what I was before the accident. My business card says I worked for a law firm in competition. I don't know anymore what it would mean to go into the office and do that actual job. Everything is as it was... when? A hundred years, a thousand, maybe a million. No, I would've lost it by then.\n\nI remember my first years, I learned to play the piano. I think that was from a film I watched when I was a child. I learned to play the guitar, the flute, the violin, other instruments whose names I can't remember.\n\nMy wife and I, we spent so many wonderful days together. Freedom from our jobs meant the freedom to spend time with each other, to love one another properly. But after we'd discovered everything we could do in those twenty four hours things slowly started to change. Resentment of being trapped, without a purpose, with each other. I don't see her anymore.\n\nShe was awake, in the bathroom at 6:04am. She's probably bleeding out by now. She couldn't take it and so every morning she slit her wrists. It used to make me sad. I don't think about it all that often now. I walk past the bathroom door, because I know looking in would upset me. I wonder if I walk in there if I could change anything, but to what effect. We'd end up back where we started. Trapped. \n\nAnd then I remember I once did walk into the bathroom. I stopped her from running that razor blade over her wrists. I think I did it because I missed her. I missed people. We spent a few days together, a little happy, quite sad and then she disappeared. I try not to think about it. The hell of killing yourself everyday to avoid the pain of living.\n\nI go for a walk. I remember when things were so busy in this small town. People were all out on the streets getting to know one another. But we were so static, there was only so much to know. The nearest city was six hours drive. I don't want to contemplate visiting it. Perhaps the diversity created a paradise where everyday you met someone new. And eternity meant that you'd forget you met some of them and so perhaps you could meet them all over again. Six hours away. I tried it once after things got bad, but there were cars abandoned all over the road. People laid down on the curb to die.\n\nNo, I go for a walk, different places, but they're all familiar. There's a cliff near by. Sometimes I throw myself off of it. The time from then to the next morning is like a dream. It passes and you feel it, but like sleep it must end. Like life it must end. It must end.\n\nI start to sob. This isn't the first time. I lose control and fall to the ground sobbing. Who created this hell? \n'It must end, please, it has to end,' I scream into the air.\n\nEternity is our curse...", "The first day was nothing much, we only realized what had happened when we looked back. Everyone thought their calendar had two pages, or their app was bugged. Life went on like normal.\n\nThe second day was where things started getting weird. Two days in a row? How strange. But life went on.\n\nIt was the twelfth day when things got bad. Everyone was experiencing a plethora of odd occurrences, and nobody knew what to do about it. Their cat that had died yesterday was fine today, the calendars never changed, and no matter what they did it was reset in the morning.\n\nThirty days in, most governments had collapsed. But it was alright, there was a new one every day.\n\nSeventy four days in was when the Cult formed. They began sacrificing those they thought responsible, and made up small differences from the previous day to give them credibility. It spread like wild-fire, and each of the accused was tormented every single day until the Cult gave up. People began going on mass shootings because they knew, they knew everyone would be fine the next day.\n\nOne hundred and sixty days in, the killers started getting tired of their slaughter. The Cult kept strong but it stopped growing as it had- small sects kept breaking off, giving up, and releasing their victims.\n\nSeven hundred and sixteen days in, everyone just resumed what they had been doing. Managers managed, laborers labored, and we all began to just ignore the loop. Nobody aged and our bank accounts never grew but that was okay. It didn't matter.\n\nTwo thousand, four hundred and nine days in, the loop ended. It was a day of euphoria. Nearly every government declared it a holiday on the spot, and almost an eighth of the world's population killed themselves, free to die. Those left always wondered what had caused the loop, but only little Billy Finn'gan in Minnesota knew. He'd finally remembered to brush his teeth." ]	4
	[WP] You move into a house and find out that it's haunted, only to learn that the ghosts/spirits are friendly and try to help you in your every day life	[ "The morning light beamed through the window shades of Joey's new condo and forced him out of bed before he was really ready. Still shaking off the jet lag from the previous day's flight, he looked around a bedroom that was completely baron aside from a mattress. As he reached to close the blinds, he vaguely remembered doing the same thing the night before. The past few days have played a bigger toll on him than he realized. Fortunately, he would have the entire weekend to adjust from the move before he started his new job. He decided he might as well get an early start and make the best of that time. \n\nThe hardwood floor creaked under his feet as he made his way down the narrow hallway into the living room. Large bay windows on the eastern side illuminated the entire room in a brilliant reddish orange hue and he saw grains of dust dance in the sunbeams. The palm tree outside the window cast a detailed silhouette on the opposite wall. The size of the room was impressive. It was much bigger than the tiny apartment he had grown accustomed to in Seattle. The stacked cardboard boxes that held all his belongings occupied only a small corner. He smiled, and his fatigue was overshadowed by the excitement of starting a new life.\n\nIt had only been two weeks since he got the news. For the past five years he had worked as an agent for an import/export company in Seattle. The job never quite lived up to the expectations he had for himself. Everyday, he quietly sent out resumes in hopes he could find something better. He never would have imagined it would lead to him moving to the Mississippi gulf coast. \n\nThe condo was part of the deal. The human resources department had agreed to set him up with three months of free room and board at Cedar Bay. The company had bought the unit partly as an investment and also as a convenient place to relocate new hires. All of the condos encircled a main courtyard in the middle. Considering how close Cedar Bay was to the ocean, it was strange how well it had preserved so much of its history.\n\nThe first box Joey unpacked was the one with the coffee maker. He quickly plugged it in and began to brew some coffee. As the aroma began to fill up the room he went over the window and opened the latch. Warm humid air billowed in. It was already much hotter than the hottest day he'd ever experienced in Washington. When the coffee was ready, Joey poured a cup and stepped out the front door onto the courtyard.\n\n“Be careful”\n\n“What?”\n\n“I said, be careful”\n\n“Who are you?”\n\n“I'm the previous tenant”\n\n“Okay... why should I be careful?\n\n“They are watching”\n\n“Who are they?”", "\"Booooooooooooo\"\n\nEvery night. Every god damn night. Karl, that piece of shit ghost keeps boo'ing. He just won't stop. He's the biggest asshole in the world. He isn't dangerous, he's never pulled anything that could cause me bodily harm, he's just kind of a douchebag.\n\nWhen I moved into this apartment, I was happy. It's my first studio apartment. No roommates at all. I finally had a place of my own, you know? Then I wake up in the middle of the night to go get some water, and my fridge is open and a carton of milk is fucking levitating in the air upside down, spilling milk on the ground like an elephant bukkake video. Then the carton falls to the ground and I hear some uncorporeal stonerish voice going \"boooooooooo or whatever.\"\n\nI did some digging and found out that the previous tenant of this apartment was some stoner who died, literally died, from eating too many cheetohs. I didn't even fucking know you could die that way, but it explains the orange blotches I sometimes notice on the walls. I originally thought they were rust, and now I know it's the actually the death throes of a person who must have been the biggest asshole in both life and death.\n\nSo the reason I called you is that, after nights and nights of him making noise, trying to eat all my food and dropping it through his untouchable body, and just being a shitty roommate, he started lecturing me about my laundry. He kept talking about how I don't do my laundry correctly. Can you even believe this asshole?\n\nI really need you to exorcise this place. Like, stat. Give it a minute, you'll hear him soon, it's almost 4:20 in the afternoon.\n\n\"Booooooooooobs\"\n\nSee? What'd I tell ya. You gonna exorcise this place or what?" ]	2
	[WP] - An Angel decends to your hometown, to find it has become a Futuristic, Godless Utopia.	[ "Eventually they learned the truth - his Lord demanded tribute and we hadn't paid our dues. But that came later, much later.\n\nThe comet broke apart in our atmosphere. Dancing fireflies whirled off in each direction, pealing off layers as it careered towards us. It had come out of nowhere. Not a single satellite we had access to had even tracked it, not a single observatory had reported it. Eventually a single glowing orb was left and it crashed into a river just outside the city limit. Everyone went to see.\n\nThe river bed had dried up and out of the smoke came a young impressive looking man; broad shoulders with a large gait yet as feminine a face as a man could have. Eyes shone like lighthouse beacons through a fog but dimmed as they approached. Voice booming. Echoes filled a thousand files of flat expanse and came from everywhere at once. Overwhelming. Enchanting.\n\nThen like a radio being tuned to the right frequency its intensity dropped. His words became as plain as any man but he was too far away. By the time he'd gotten closer Jacob's Uhie device had finished scanning the unusual man and projected the details onto his field of vision: > Male > 6'1\" > Approx. 28-40y.o. > No facial match in archives.\n\n\"Who are you?\" someone from crowd shouted.\n\n\"My name is Wormwood and I am an Angel of the Lord.\"\n\nA sudden hush descended on the crowd. A few giggles and grunts peaked their way through the silence and quickly faded back to emptiness. Jacob pushed his way to the front and spoke up, \"what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.\"\n\nThe words appeared on Jacobs contact lens with chapter and verse. Scrolled up, he thought to the Uhie and it revealed the earlier verses. \"And the seven angels which had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth: and the third part of trees was burnt up, and all green grass was burnt up.\"\n\nWormwood looked over to him. Eyes bright, piercing. Jacob was unafraid. \"Should we not have heard those other trumpets first? Should those other revelations not have happened?\"\n\n\"How do you come to know these words? How has an unbeliever read the passages of The Book and still refused to believe?\" Wormwood walked towards Jacob. That intense walk, leaning forward slightly, purposefully focused on some point in the distance.\n\n\"Uhie!\" called Jacob, \"don't let that guy come near me.\" He didn't need to say it out loud, the universal human interface environment would pick up his thoughts. But panic got the better of him and all the better. To the angel Wormwood it looked like magic and for a moment struck fear in his heart.\n\n\nThat was all Jacob remembered of the first day... the first day of the arrival of Wormwood.", "These nonbelievers keep getting bolder and bolder, they actually shot at me on my way down. I am an Archangel and I deserve a little respect. Fucking Gabriel, this is his job. I'm no good with this messenger shit, I'm more of a smite and destroy type of celestial being. \n\nOh yeah I forgot, I've got a deadline and a message from the big man upstairs. First of all he has acknowledged you progress as a species but he also wants you to know that he isn't happy with you abandoning him. He eviscerated those pagans for you all those years ago so you could stop making sacrifices, I mean the least you could do is throw him a prayer every now and then to let him know you care. Oh you don't believe me? How about I kill all your firstborn? Oh you don't think I'm capable of that? Call home then, it's already done. You're angry and sad, I can see that but I gave you a fair warning. \n\nOh right the deadline, start finding the path again within the next 1000 years or the big guy is starting up the apocalypse. Well that's about it, sorry I'm no good at small talk. \n\nOh by the way you're lucky it was me he sent. If it had been Michael you'd cry at the sight of him. If it had been Gabriel you'd kill yourselves out of guilt, that passive aggressive fuck has a way with words. If it had been Uriel you'd all be ashes. If it had been Raphael you'd get a stern lecture. But he sent me so you're cool. \n\nWho am I? Haha isn't that rich. You all meet me someday, in fact I'm the only angel who every human ever has seen. I kinda think it's kind of fitting he sent me, the one thing that that no matter how hard you try you can't escape. Who am I you ask? I'll give you three clues; Sodom, Gomorrah, Egypt. Well I have to go, have fun finding God. " ]	2
	[WP] You fall asleep on Skype with your SO. You wake up in the middle of the night to see something in the room with them.	[ "Loosely based on a somewhat true tale\n\nI look into the iPhone facing me while I lay down. There I see the woman I have fallen in love with, at least for now. I don't know why but love for me seems to not last very long. This is the woman I have loved the longest. Shae was in California while I was stuck in Indiana. Three hours was the time between us. I tried to stay up for as long as possible so she wouldn't be so alone. \n\n\"Okay, you can open your eyes now.\" I said as I just finished telling her a romantic story about us. She always said I was a good story teller and she loved to hear what Ideas where brewing in my head for when we finally meet in person. I always had her close her eyes so she could imagine my story better, and not see the stupid look on my face whenever I tell these stories. I know it's good when I hear her breathing get heavier and her trying to hide her moans. I know what she is doing; the very faint buzzing gives it away. Most of the times she shows me after I'm done with the story.\n\nShe opened her dark, chocolaty, brown eyes and bit her lip. \"That was a good story,\" she said with a smile as she looked down. There was the faint buzzing. I guess a low hum would describe it better. She was a beautiful young woman with a natural tan due to her half Mexican heritage. Her medium brown hair was long and wavy, just the way I liked it. She was average if not slightly above average in height with a small petite build. Her body was fit and strong with lean, slightly toned muscle. \n\nBut it was not her body that made me love her, it was her personality. She was a young sweet woman that didn't appreciate being pushed around growing up, when I first met her over Skype via a friend. She was sweet, sassy, and for once in my life I found a woman who can take a fucking joke. Our sarcasm battles where those of epic proportions. We rub each other the right way. \n\nI looked at her and with a questioning look on my face. \"Are you doing what I think you're doing?\" I playfully ask. \"Maybe,\" she said, \"and I know what you are doing.\" okay I was doing it too. What do you expect I'm a guy with the closest thing to sexual release is my imagination and a woman over 2,000 miles away. \"Are you going to show me?\" I asked as I bit my lip. She got a cocky grin on her face, tilted her head to the right a little, and said \"maybe,\" in a voice she knew would drive me insane. I knew her well enough to know that she actually meant beg for me, show me how much you want to see it. So I begged and I bargained. \n\nAfter we finished we were both exhausted so we decided to go to sleep. We talked a little throughout the night before I succumbed to sleep first. \n\n----------------------\n\na scream pierces the air.\n\nI awoke immediately; I looked over to Shannon on my phone. She was reacting to something, like cowering in fear. \"No get away!\" she yelled. \"Shae, what's wrong?\" I asked, fear and confusion very present in my voice. \n\nThat’s when I saw a large, hairy arm reach down and snatch a still bare Shae by the hair. He pulled her out of her bed and shoved her over her desk. By this time I saw that he was a large man with long dark hair and a long beard. He had a grey shirt and black pants. I heard a belt come undone and a zipper unzip. I realized what was happening. \"Fight back!\" I yelled. But then I realized that she couldn't hear me. Her headphones where plugged in.\n\nShae brought her elbow up, connecting with the man's jaw. I got excited that she was going to fend him off. He wasn't expecting that. Shae turned to face her attacker and was winding up for another punch when his huge hand caught her by the throat. My heart dropped. The large man picked her up off the ground and slammed her down onto the desk. She let out a whimper and a groan of pain. I saw the large man's hips move back and forth. Shae let out a scream and fought hard, thrashing her body back and forth. She hit the man a couple of times but she was no match when she was pinned by the throat being... oh god I can't even say it. A sick realization hit me. How long until she recovered from this, will she fall into depression. The large man punched her in the ribs. She let out short breath of pain. She stopped resisting. My heart sank even deeper. She was reaching for something. He was too distracted to see what she was doing. She swung her arm toward him. \n\nThat’s when the picture shuttered, froze then the call failed. \"NO!\" I screamed. I looked at our messages toward each other. My last words where... I love you. I read back through all of our texts, our sexts, everything. I loved her. A couple minutes Shae called me back on Skype. I answered immediately. The first words out of my mouth where, \"hello? Shae? Are you okay?\" she looked surprised and she had tears in her eyes. She tried her best to keep the camera on her face and not on the rest of her bare form. But I could see the bruises on her neck, and where she was holding her ribs. \"No I'm not,\" she said, on the verge of flat out bawling. \"What’s wrong? What happened?\" I asked. \"I.... I was....\" \"I know baby, I saw most of it. Did he run away, did he finish?\" I asked. She busted out crying, and nodded her head. \"Shae, listen, it will all be okay, just call the cops, okay.\" I said. She picked up her phone and I watched her dial. She set her iPod down. I could take advantage of her showing me her full on bare body but I can't, I won't. She is a woman in distress and I will get her through this. She had the body of a goddess that I admire every time she shows me. \n\nShe was on the phone for a while. When she finally hung up she noticed me looking at her. She swiped up her iPod and quickly focused it back on her face. \"Chris I'm sor... Chris hello,\" she said as I just stayed silent with a satisfied look on my face. I shook my head. \"Sorry I was just so distracted on this angel crying.\" I said. She gave me a confused look. \"It'll all be over soon, this like the thunderstorm, will too pass. Look tell me, what can I do to make you feel better?\"", "Thats the problem with us living in different countries hours apart in time...I always seem to just pass out when he is gone for a few moments. And I am a deep sleeper, there is absolutely nothing that is going to wake me up (save for his loud snoring). No wonder he can get away with taking secret pictures of me making funny faces in my sleep.\n\nI can hear his snores, pulling me out of my sleep once again. I toss and turn a bit before rolling over and opening my eyes. He looks so peaceful, his mouth open wide and the snores just coming out. Sleeping \"side-by-side\" like this is the best idea we have ever had. I rub my eyes and stretch a bit, hitting the button to turn back on my microphone.\n\n\"Nemanja......Nemaaaaaannnnja! Sweetheart! Wake up! Come on...you left your microphone....\" And that is when I see it. The arm wrapped around him. Who could he possibly have in his bed that would be wrapping an arm around him? He honestly wouldn't be dumb enough to bring another girl over and sleep with her right in front of the camera....would he?\n\nHer skin is pale and freckly, just like mine. Her arms are delicate and barely make it around his big torso just from behind. I can see most of her hand, her fingers draped gently over him. But wait a second. I look at her hand and look down at my own. The manicure matches mine exactly. Something isn't quite right about this.\n\n\"Manja! Wake up! Who is that girl in bed with you?!\" I yell at my computer, hoping his volume is turned up on the other side. He stirs, muttering a soft and unintelligible response. I see her moving, more and more of her body becoming visible behind his. I see her lean in and look for the button that will end the call. The closer she gets, the more that I can see her face. I gasp as she looks right into the camera, revealing her identity to me. It me, but its not me because I am not there. It is someone there who looks exactly like me, in every single way, right down to the last freckle. She smirks, and this is what gives her away. Those teeth aren't mine. They are sharp and jagged and worn. Those teeth belong to something.....something evil. \n\nI am screaming and moving the computer around, hoping that something will stir him, but he just stays there, peacefully snoring. The more i scream, the bigger her smile gets, and she finds the button she is looking for. She waves sarcastically and blows me a kiss, ending the call.\n\nI am in tears, barely able to breathe, and having no clue what to do next. I reach for my phone, keeping my computer open and finding his number so I can text him.\n\nThe ping comes in that I have received a new message and I look up on the screen. I will take good care of him. I knew it was from her, the other me, before I even bothered to look. I start dialing furiously, knowing that I need to wake him up. But he doesn't pick up, lets it go straight to voice mail. I can do nothing but stare at her message, and keep trying to wake him up." ]	2
	[WP] After suffering amnesia, you go on a quest to discover your past. It is a much darker tale than you once thought.	[ "“My name’s Thomas T. Holder and I’m here because a friend of mine, Lee Verrat, said you knew me better than anyone else.”\n\nThomas sniffed. The tight small room he’s sitting in stank of alcohol. Did Lee make a mistake when he said that Thomas knew the gruff man sitting in front of him?\n\nThomas shuddered, he didn’t have a choice but to believe in Lee. The earliest memories he can remember was the sensation of being dazed and confused when he woke in the sterile environment of the hospital. A nearby nurse tending to a patient on the other side of the room rushed over to him when she noticed he began to moan and twist his body violently.\n\n“Relax, honey. Take a deep breath.”\n\n“W-where am I?”\n\nBeneath her large spectacles, the nurse squinted at Thomas sympathetically and her brows furrowed.\n\n“You are in St. Michael’s University Hospital. Relax, relax. Don’t move. Let me get the doctor for you.”\n\nThomas groaned and the nurse hurriedly left the room. The doctor was fast, before Thomas could try to make sense of the situation, the balding brusque doctor was already sitting in a chair next to his bed with a clipboard.\n\n“How do you feel?”\n\n“My head hurts, feels like a jackhammer been at it for days.”\n\n“I wouldn’t be surprised. You were found on the road with a fractured skull, the parietal area to be precise. Not to mention bruises all over the rest of our body. How would you rate the pain on a scale of 1 to 10?”\n\n“A goddamn 20.”\n\nThe doctor tutted and scribbled a note on the edge of the paper. He hesitated and leaned forward.\n\n“Do you remember your name?”\n\n“I, uh, yes. Wait…”\n\nThomas scrunched his face in utmost concentration and focus. Nothing was coming to him. Absolutely nothing, zilch. He felt a stab of fear.\n\nThe doctor noticed his patient tensing up, hyperventilating.\n\n“Relax,” he gave a nervous chuckle, “I’m sure it will come back to you. For now, take a rest. Doctor’s order.”\n\nThomas wasn’t even listening. He didn’t even pay attention as the doctor quietly slip away.\n\n-----------------------------------------------\n\nFor days, the doctor came in and out asking more and more questions and Thomas never had an answer for the man. One of nurses said that Thomas looked like one of her deceased uncle, one Thomas T. Holder and the name simply stuck. He didn’t mind, he didn’t care whatsoever. He just wanted to know the truth and salvation came when Lee Verrat arrived.\n\nLee certainly struck an unusual chord in Thomas as Thomas eyed him. He was a lanky man with a gaunt face with wisps of a mustache, a thin mouth drawn tight. His hands and knuckles were calloused and cracked. But it was his eyes, blue eyes that seemed dead and passive. Lifeless.\n\nLee quietly slithered across the room, placing a large fruit basket on the base of Thomas’ bed.\n\n“How ya feelin’… Thomas? That’s what people callin’ you nowadays right?” drawled Lee as he cocked his head to the side, licking his chapped lips, his tongue darting in and out.\n\n“Do I know you?”\n\n“Of course you do. Name’s Lee Verrat. You, me. We go way back.”\n\nThomas eyed him disdainfully.\n\n“Right.”\n\n“Again. How ya feelin’ Ja- Thomas?”\n\n“Body? Great. Mind? Absolute shit. I can’t remember anything.”\n\nLee frowned and stepped closer to the bed.\n\n“How determined are you to find out who you are?”\n\n“Anything, I will find the truth and nothing will stop me.”\n\nLee paused and he reached into the back of his slightly saggy jeans and withdrew a card. All it had was a name and an address: Roy G. 10915 Capricorn St. and placed it on top of a green apple in the fruit basket.\n\n“Go there when you’re ready,” Lee stated and he began to get up and leave.\n\n“Why can’t you just tell me?”\n\n“It’s not my position.”\n\nAnd without further ado, Lee got up, dusted his pants and left the room.\n\n-----------------------------------------------\n\nTwo months later, sitting in a dark office at the outskirt of town. Here he was, sitting before Roy G. himself. The man was intimidating, his very presence filled the room and beneath his wide brimmed hat he saw an eye that only held contempt for Thomas.\n\n“My name’s Thomas Holder and I’m here because a friend of mine, Lee Verrat, said you knew me.”\n\n“Your name’s not Thomas. It’s James Adam,” the man’s gravelly voice rumbled out.\n\n“James… Adam? James Adam. What can you tell about me?”\n\nRoy lit a cigarette and wrapped his lips around it and exhaled.\n\n“Low-class thug. You worked for me in a gang.”\n\n“What?”\n\nRoy grinned.\n\n“Yea, you heard me. You were a desperate punk when you came to me years ago. You became a grade A piece of shit. Vandalism, stealing, drug running, you name it buddy. Hell, you even stole from me.”\n\n“No… no!\"\n\n“YES! You want to know what happened, eh? You want to know the truth?! Here’s the damn truth. You were out drinking too much after a mission with Lee and you stumbled back here when I was away. You’ve always had sight for my daughter, Evelynn, and when you saw that she was all alone you raped her. You goddamn raped her in your fanatic lust. She was only 17 and yet you stole her innocence. Can you imagine her shame, the disgusting thought of you in her? She hung herself long before I got back and you fled. You stole Evelynn from me.”\n\nThomas felt his stomach churning. This isn’t what he had in mind. The man was a liar, he had to be lying.\n\n“You poor, disgusting, vile creature,” Roy murmured, shaking his head, “so desperate.”\n\n“What did you do to me?” Thomas squeaked.\n\n“I ordered your death. I can’t have someone like you existing – not here, not in my city, not in my world. According to Lee, you didn’t put up much of a fight. But still, he made an error in not making sure you were truly dead. He thought a blow to the back of your head was enough. The way he described the sickening crunch of your skull was blissful music.\"\n\nThomas didn’t move. Roy sighed and clasped his hands together and leaned back.\n\n“Curiosity did kill the cat didn’t it, James? I was actually considering letting you live had you decided to let sleeping dogs lie. To let your past be.”\n\nRoy stood up and adjusted his suit.\n\n“Well I best be going. I have a town to manage,” Roy nodded to nobody in particular, “don’t disappoint me this time”.\n\nRoy checked his image one last time on a dirty mirror with a rose handle on his desk and closed the door behind him.\n\nThomas sensed a shuffling and he quickly twisted to the dark corner of the room. He saw a glint of steel, he heard a click, and the last thing he saw were a pair of dead blue eyes.\n", "Light. Dark. Colors. Shades.\n\nEverything swarms and swallows my body as my eyes flicker open. The darkness pushing on the edges of light seeming to be in an ever constant battle more futile by the growing minute. As my surroundings zero in and become clear all of a sudden one thing becomes clear. Everything seems so new to me as if I was taking my first breath. I began trying to access memories and there was nothing. No family, friends, schools or jobs everything seemed so vacant. A slight panic began to fill my chest as I was grasping for something tangible. Where did it all begin? Why can't I remember anything? I thought to myself, and decided the next step would be to figure out where I am. An alley way laying in, based on the smell, week old garbage and a couple feet to my right is a strange woman wearing a yellow summer dress that exposes her smooth arms with a modest cut just above the knees. Her skin is a beautiful sun kissed olive the imperfections of her tan lines shine through on her right shoulder due to a slight fold of the strap. She doesn't use makeup which accented her natural beauty all the more. The brown thin belt gently hugging her hips and white headband snugly holding her long curly brunette hair back give her an even more calm sentiment then I first noticed. Her presence eased the panic so I reached out.\n\n\"Um, excuse me,\" I started, \"Where am I?\"\n\nShe stood their statuesque. Not a sound or a movement not even the raising and lowering of her chest. I shut my eyes and reopen them trying to gather myself, upon opening them the familiar battle of light versus dark floods back and the clarity returns. Only this time the peaceful woman is gone. I conduct a quick scan of my surroundings. It is night time and the alley is suddenly very empty except for myself and this odd pile of trash bags. The building we are lying against has no doors in sight and the fence in front of me has no openings. The light pole dead center of the alley evenly lit everything. I kept wondering where this trash came from. When from above I am smacked by a recently filled bag of trash I felt the warmth of certain parts and the cool liquid of others pressing against me as it rolled to my left. I look up to see a guy pulling out one of his headphones, \"I'm sorry man I didn't see you there. You really shouldn't lay in a pile of trash though\" he added. Just then I see the girl just behind his shoulder standing there as still as before. I ignored the man and scurried to my feet. I backed towards the fence to get a better view of the two. His back was towards me now with both headphones in he was walking away. \"Hey, how did you get up there?\" Again nothing. Again gone. \n\nI turned right headed towards the busiest of the two directions. I had noticed heavy foot traffic and cars passing this way and I was hoping somebody could help me. I emerged from the alley to see the light really fighting against the dark even pushing it back. The youth filled the streets with joy, bright neon lights plagued the signs on this street. Inns, pubs, piano bars, restaurants all bustling with the interactions of joyful spirits. Just then an epiphany. I reached into my trouser pocket and found a wallet. I found an ID. \"Gerald Arthur,\" Great sadness filled me holding my ID, \"Gerald Arthur FREEZE!\" I turned and saw a woman in an all blue uniform with a shield above her heart yelling to me. In the reflection of the light on her glasses I saw a figure behind me waving. It was the girl and she took off running. Almost out of instinct I follow. The three way chase is zigzagging in out of the youth that filled the street. There hurried conversations sent an alarming feeling down my spine. They must all be talking about me. BUT WHY? Just then the girl turns right down a street out of my sight. I turn right on the same street still hearing the officer yelling behind me. Again gone. \"DAMMIT!\" I loosed in anger. The panic is growing again. She is going to be here any minute. I keep on moving down the street. I make a left onto a less eventful street one that the darkness seemed to be winning against the light. I hid in the shadows and kept moving. I heard behind me people telling the officer where I had went. And thought to myself they should mind their own business. She sees the shine of my orange outfit in the dark and again yells, \"FREEZE!\" Naturally I didn't I kept moving. Only this time I see her. Her standing there waving for me to move faster. She heads right and again I make a right off this street and downhill my pace became swifter as physics took over and I embraced it. She's gone again but I feel that I am heading the right direction. The busy nightlife dying in the background only to be replaced by my heavy breath and the eerie stillness of the residential district I was entering. This nagging feeling of familiarity began to weigh me down and my pace slowed it could have been the evening out of the pavement to a flat surface or the fact that I am getting tired but I knew better. There she was and she knew better.\n\nThe officer was still in pursuit but the distance between us had grown and I was relieved by that. I make a right, a left then another right. She was persistent I will give her that. But I was in an instinctual mode knowing every nook and cranny of this neighborhood. Just as I was feeling like I was getting close to where I was leading she appeared again the girl waving me on and pointing at something with joy. Just then I noticed a house to my right that slowed me in my tracks. It was a large two story with a wraparound porch and one rocking chair on either side of the front entrance everything was so symmetrical the light and darkness displaying it prominently in the night even the yellow caution tape that sealed it off from illegal entrance. My nagging feeling turned into dread. Why is this important. I felt my body come to a complete stop. I approached the house. It had a date of three weeks prior labeled on it. Images began to fill my head of a woman and child screaming. A loud deafening noise rang in my mind. The officer was nearing again yelling for me, \"STOP Gerald just STOP,\" but her voice elicited a flight response from me. My feet began to pound the pavement as the foot race intensified. Another twenty minutes passed of running with no sign of the girl nothing at all but familiar surroundings came and went around me. Why was this officer so intense? She should have given up by now I thought to myself. Not an ounce of quit in her. I made a right again. The girl appeared once more in the cemetery standing there this time in-between two tombstones in the distance. They were two newer looking tombstones this was easy to pick up on because they weren't as weather worn as the others. Again my body came to a stop. My eyes settled upon the names. And tears spilled from my eyes. I looked up at the girl and noticed a smaller girl holding onto her yellow dress peering around from behind her. She was terrified of me they both were but they both still looked at me with such loving eyes. And I knew why. I know it all.\n\nMichelle Arthur. Here lies a loving mother taken from us too soon. \n\nAnnabelle Arthur. Here lies a daughter and a light extinguished before her time.\n\nThe officer came up on me gun drawn, \"Don't move Gerald. You son of a bitch don't move.\" I continued sobbing and didn't acknowledge her. \"Say something Gerald. Say something.\" My silence continued I just couldn't bring myself to turn and face her because I knew who she was. \"I don't know how you escaped but I am not letting you get away.\" She said then the tears she was holding back began to fill her eyes. \"I loved you. You were my son. How could you have done this to my family. My daughter and granddaughter were taken to soon. Because of you. You son of a bitch. I trusted you and you did this with that trust. Well I hope you are happy with yourself. I hope you are proud. This will be your legacy. A murder of the things he loves. A destroyer of things that are beautiful and true. I hate you. And I hope all manners of evil plague you from here on out you bastard.\" \n\n\"I know this won't help any but I wasn't myself that night. I had no recollection of it until this night. I am so sorry. So completely and utterly sorry for everything I've done to our family. If only there were something I could do to make this right.\" I wailed to her.\n\n\"There is something.\" She whispered.\n\n\"Anything.\" I pleaded.\n\n\"YOU CAN DIE!\" She exclaimed.\n\nThat familiar loud deafening noise rang throughout the cemetery. As I grabbed for my heart. \n\nShe ran over and held me in her arms crying more hysterically than before. \"I'm so sorry. I thought this would help me but it didn't. Please don't die she bartered.\"\n\nWith my final breath and action I delivered an, \"I love you.\" Trying to fake a smile for her. \n\nThe darkness engulfed all the light that was left. In the cemetery, in my eyes, in her soul and in the world. It seems that no matter how hard the light tries to brighten its surroundings it always finds the darkness is there first waiting for it.\n", "First time here. I'll give it a go. \n\nI couldn't believe it when he said it. Me? How could it be? None of this makes any sense, but looking back all the pieces seem to click into place. It just seems so surreal, if it's even true, to think that I could be who they say I am.\n\nThinking back to all the places I have been, the enemies I had fought, and the battles I had won, I guess the answer was always there, starring at me right in the face. I mean, I guess there's no real explanation for why I've made it this far. It could only happen this way if what this man, my sworn enemy, says is true. \n\nAll the visions I had shared with her? All the time spent figuring out why and how and when we had become linked, when in reality it was far before any of this had happened. I could easily be angry with her, and I can't help but feel betrayed. But there's a part in me that knows that what she did was the right thing. Forgiveness is not my strong suit, but it is not a weakness, either. \n\nShe, and all of her kind, had lied to me, manipulated me to achieve their own objectives, to push their own agenda. How can I even know that my will is my own? And my enemy now says I am not even fit to rule as I once did. How can I know that this very thought right now is not something I \"supposed\" to think? It very well could be, and I'm not sure I could trust her enough to let her answer that.\n\nI think back to all of the time we have spent together, all of the strife and conflict we met. It all was for naught, if what he says is true. All of the time spent finding those artifacts, from that unbearably hot cave to the stinking forest floor, from the bottom of the shark infested ocean to the dig site in the mountains, it was all a lie to get me here, where I could be used as a tool for my masters. \n\nForgiveness is not my strong suit, and given all that has transpired, I Don't even think they deserve it for what they did to me. I don't know exactly what happened, and I don't know who I can trust. But I do know this: if she had not looked at me with forgiveness, I would be dead. She saved me, and it wasn't through anger that she did this. It was through forgiveness. She held my entire future in the palm of her hand, and rather than crush it like I deserved, she shielded and protected it. Well now it's my turn. Maybe this time, forgiveness might not be a weakness. Not for the Council, but forgiveness for her.\n\nI looked left to her, her beautiful eyes full of tears and sorrow, and I smiled. I looked to my right, at my longest standing friend, and nodded. Then I looked straight ahead, at my enemy. His bald head shone with sweat from the heat of the engine room we were in, his dark, sunken eyes wide with anger, his jaw piece humming with the slight whir of mechanical gears, and his lightsaber drawn and ready to end us. In all of his power, he stood there alone with nothing but his hate and his anger, I stood here, in my \"weakness\", with Bastila and Carth at my back. I was not alone, and it was time for Malak to know.\n\nI stand there before him, draw my saber, and tell him \"I am Revan no longer\".\n\nEDIT: This is a spoiler from the video game Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic. I just thought it applied to the prompt." ]	3
	[WP] The mountains of the world are moving about, and are in fact not mountains but god-like beings with skin of stone. Describe the interaction between humanity (may it be an individual or a nation) and one of the mountains.	[ "IT didn't even have a name. It was just there.\n\nOne of the the lesser peaks, hidden in the shadow of the 5 peaks of Panchuli in the mid-western Himalaya.\n\nBut it always fascinated me. The invisibility. The fact that you could see it only 3 days of the year during sunset when the sun was at the perfect angle.\n\nThroughout the year, it just looked like part of the main range itself. \n\nHow did I know? Well call it chance or luck or misfortune. I had been shooting time lapses for 3 months now.\n\nAnd those three sunsets had shown me. I jokingly called it alferd(Butcher fan you see), and the 3rd lapse showed me something which would haunt me to this day.\n\nThat slight jump, that slight movement. Maybe the camera shifted. That is what I told myself for a year.\n\nYes, for a full year. Till I had the courage to look at it again. I don't know what made me come here. I am not even a trekker. But here I was trudging along, camping for the first time in my life.\n\nThe trek was not really very tough, a simple hike for 2 days, but still, a first timer is a first timer. And I did not even know what I was looking for.\n\nSo as I reached the summit, well it was more like a small plain, I was a bit disappointed. I don't know what I had expected to find. But it was definitely not a small table top mountain .\n\nThe light was fading, and tomorrow I will start my journey back, and then it happened again, that feeling. I whirled around, and I knew that the landscape had changed. We had moved.\n\nAnd then it said \"Hello mortal\". \nI just stood there. Frozen.\n\nOn a lonely cold mountain, your eyes can often play tricks, but your ears... well they almost never say \"Hello mortal\".\n\n\"I would like to eat you\" said the voice and the earth itself opened up beneath me.\n\n\"Why did I put the camera on that forsaken hill a year ago...\" Those were my last thoughts", "Humanity, fuck yeah!\n\nWe still don't know what triggered them to come alive. There must have been some signal, however, given how coordinated everything was. Maybe they have some way of communicating with each other. Or maybe, somewhere in the world, someone just did the wrong thing.\n\nThey awoke on June 29, 2014.\n\nAll across the world, the mountains began to shift, to rise. Legs emerged, huge pillars of stone, each one miles across. Slowly, ponderously, unstoppably, they began to advance across the world. Belching smoke and spewing lava, they began to bring about our extinction.\n\nSurprisingly, Australia did the best initially, not counting the loss of New Zealand. It turns out that New Zealand was basically just a bunch of these creatures sitting in the sea, and they decided that it was time to submerge. A few thousand survivors were pulled out of the ocean with rescue choppers, or managed to make it to boats in time and escape being sucked down, but the rest of them were wiped off the map, along with the country.\n\nSecond best was probably America. The rural South was trampled by the Appalachians, but they're fairly small as far as these mountains go. The East Coast and Midwest did all right - they got to sit and listen to the tragedies on the news as California was steamrolled.\n\nThe worst faring were probably the Chinese and most of the Europeans. Between the Alps and the Himalayas, they didn't stand a chance. Half a billion people probably died in the first day.\n\nIt only took two hours for the President of the US to get an executive order out, although the jets weren't scrambled for another couple hours. The generals were experiencing a bit of consternation, it seemed. How did you kill a mountain? And most of the US weapons weren't pointed in towards our own heartland.\n\nIncredibly, it was Pakistan that was the first to bring one of the monsters down. Satellite surveillance captured the attempt. Despite the dubious honor of getting the first kill, they didn't make a good job of it. It took six hits, and they managed to vaporize most of their defensive forces as well. But they eventually managed to pierce the abomination's stony hide, and thermal imaging picked up the subsequent meltdown as the beast literally exploded.\n\nAfter being briefed, it took six hours more before the President cleared the US arsenal of ICBMs to launch. Unfortunately, the monsters had already begun to trample across the Midwest, where many of the launch silos were located, putting them out of commission. Warren Air Force Base in Wyoming was wiped off the map when one of the ICBMs detonated prematurely, still inside its silo. \n\nStill, with over 5,000 nuclear weapons at its disposal, most of the Rockies fell in that initial wave of firepower. Nuclear submarines turned out to be most effective, as they were relatively protected from the monsters and could move into location.\n\nBy the end of June, over a thousand nuclear weapons had been detonated. The United Kingdom was heavily crippled, and most of central Europe had gone dark. The Middle East was, for the first time in history, actively requesting the help of Israel, which had finally confirmed rumors that it was a major nuclear power. Most of Western China had been wiped off the map. India claimed that it was holding its northern mountains at bay, although satellite images revealed a different story.\n\nConservative estimates put the count of the dead at between 1.5 and 2.5 billion.\n\nIn the next week, the various nations did their best to counterattack. The United States was momentarily clear, thanks to its massive arsenal, but there were new threats moving up from South America, the Bajas, and down from Canada. Military engineers began stripping the nuclear power plants of all fissile material to replenish their depleted arsenal.\n\nAfter days of silence, France suddenly erupted spectacularly. Experts knew that they had been sitting on a nuclear arsenal, but it was believed that they hadn't had time to launch. Surveillance showed that they crippled several of the larger Alps, as well as some of the Pyrenees, but the collateral damage was estimated to be immense.\n\nBy a month later, most of the beasts had been brought down. Scientists were already bemoaning the fallout effects from the sheer number of nukes deployed, but they were being largely pushed aside by the sheer scale of the rebuilding movement. It turned out that, inside these gigantic moving mountains, huge deposits of rare and valuable ores were hidden. Even in the wreckage of great cities, new companies were springing up, workers in armored radiation-resistant suits harvesting these great sources of new wealth.\n\nThe final kicker, almost an ironic announcement, came from NASA, of all places. They revealed that they had detected movement on the moon, shortly before the initial movement on June 29th. It was believed that the awakening signal had come from there.\n\nA new chapter in the space race was opened. In a matter of days, Congress, acting proactively for the first time in decades, voted to divert huge levels of funding into space travel. We had been attacked, crippled, but we weren't out yet.\n\nWe were headed back to the moon. But this time, we'd be armed.\n\n*****\n\nThat's right, mountains! Fuck you! We climbed you, now we'll blow you up!*" ]	2
	[WP] Stepping down to the basement in the dark, you notice a light coming from the slight crevice between the stairs and wall. After wrenching off one of the steps, you see open sky below you.	[ "\"Oh, hello. You're lost, aren't you?\" asked a voice. I turned around to see a girl, no older than 8 staring at me with curious eyes. \n\n\"No.\" I said, brushing dust off my pants, \"I only fell out of the hole behind me.\" I tried to point to the rectangular tear in space, but it was nowhere to be found. The girl giggled as I pointed toward thin air.\n\n\"I think, I think, that you're lost.\" She declared. I stood up, feeling my socks dampen from the wet grass below.\n\n\"I guess I am. Can you help me find home?\" I asked. The girl paused, tapping her pointed chin with her paw. \n\n\"It's gonna be reaaaally hard. But I think, I think I can help!\" She exclaimed. Relief washed over me, I had nothing of worth and no sense of direction, and she was going to help me out.\n\n\"Thank you, young lady.\" I said, reaching out with my foot to give her a firm shake. She giggled again, pointing toward the gnarled seaweed tree in the distance.\n\n\"The elder knows everything, I'll take you to him.\" She said, plucking a single strand of her straw hair and snapping it in half. I was suddenly aware of a whining sound. Turning, I saw a typical horsedog loping along the purple grass. When our ride reached us, the girl pulled on it's curly fur to hoist herself up on the creature, and I followed suit. Clutching her stone dress, I held on tightly as we raced down the field in a burst of speed. \n\nIt had only been several complete spins of the sunmoon before we reached the gnarled seaweed tree. Dismounting, I waved to the girl in thanks. \"Good luck!\" She called, fading away like a wisp of smoke. I smiled, and turned toward the tree. I found the jade-guilded door and knocked once. Pulling on the rubber band doorknob, I lifted the door upward and crawled in as it closed behind me.\n\nThe elder's home was very beautiful. Paintings of metal scraps hung imposingly in orange ice frames, on walls of warped stone and bone. There was a bed of talking cottons, which was considered a luxury as they would gently talk you into a slumber. In the center was a lightning pit, the epitome of warmth, and captured sun fairies danced in their glass orbs to provide light. I remembered my manners, wiping my feet on the fish-fin rug, and took a step inside. \n\nThe elder sat with his back facing me. I respectfully kept a wide berth of about two picakilofeet, before sitting across the lightning pit with my hooves crossed. For a while, I sat in silence, hoping the elder would open any of his five mouths to acknowledge or address me. He remained silent and motionless. Even when the draft of sugar wind came in from the open window came, not even his milk clothes rippled. In the end, I had to be the one to speak up. \"Oh elder.\" I cried, \"I have lost my way home. Can you tell me how to get back?\"\n\nFor a while, there was still silence. Then, his eye opened to reveal a rainbow star that stared straight into my eyes. His mouth opened, and a garbled mess came out. I had not practiced my Fabrylish in a while, so I respectfully asked him to repeat his sentence. His head dipped slightly, only a six inches, and his center mouth opened once more:\n\n\"I don't think taking those drugs before doing basement work was a good idea, Richard.\" ", "It’s just not possible. There is a strong gust of cool air as the white fluffy clouds race through their blue blanket. I stare down in awe, unable to think or move; I’ve seen so many things in my life but this was true beauty. The floorboards begin to creak and I rush to hide my discovery. I get the stair back in its place just as the door opens and the golden rays of light fill the room; Bok appears at the top of the staircase “You alright?” he asks with a look of concern. I breathe a sigh of relief and smile. “Yes.” I say getting up from the staircase. Bok smiles, closes the door, and begins to come down. I begin to walk upstairs and as we pass, I hear a bang. I turn around and Bok is on the ground at the bottom of the staircase and the stair which I had just fixed is beside him. “Bok! Are you okay?” I ask worriedly as I rush to get the stair. He sits up and rubs his head with his eyes closed. “I’ll fix this!” I say snatching the stair and jamming it into place. Of course this time it goes in snugly. “But if you put it back, you won’t be able to see the sunset.” He says with a smile as he checks to make sure it is properly in place. My heart pounds and my mind races wondering how he long he’s known and what he’ll do now. “You’re dusty. Go clean up and check on dinner.” He says as he goes about his business. “What is that?” I ask disobeying his command. “The sky.” He answers as he labels jam jars. “How?” I ask brushing off some of the dust and turning on more lights. He looks at me with a blank expression. “The soup is burning. Cass is going to be furious if another dinner is ruined due to ‘carelessness’” he says turning off the same lights I had just turned on. I sigh and go upstairs to start dinner. It should’ve already been started but I had better things to do than chores. As I stir the soup pot, Cass walks into the kitchen. “Good evening.” He says as he cuts in front of me and tastes the soup. “This tastes heavenly.” He compliments with a grin. I nod and look at his suit.\n\nIt is his favorite one; it is black and wrinkleless. It has perfect creases which is rare for someone as muscular as Cass. He is one of those extremely athletic people who work out from a morning jog to two hundred pull ups before bed. He is caring but much more stern and serious than Bok. He assigns us chores for throughout the day and is the one to lecture us if they aren’t completed. Cass always wanted us to reach our potential and be the best version of ourselves possible. His methods were just outdated. Bok stayed at home most of the time with me, making sure that I got majority of my chores done. He let me go about my business doing whatever I want to ease my boredom and every now and then he’d come up with a game. He’d always defend my side to Cass but wouldn’t break his promises either. \n\n“Good evening” I reply wondering if I should mention the stair. He leaves the room so I let it be and serve dinner. As usual we eat dinner together and Cass interrogates us about the day. “What were you doing that you got so dusty?” He asks me as Bok eyes me. “I was helping Bok label the jars in the basement.” I lie. He looks at Bok and Bok nods back. “No fun and games?” He asks with a smile. “Nope, just work.” I say trying to be as calm as possible. A breeze runs through the dining room and I look up at the skylight. The sky is completely clear now. After we finish, I wash the dishes and go to my room. I brush my hair until it is smooth and tangle free, contemplating on going down to the basement. My door creaks open and Bok enters. He sits down next to me and looks into my vanity. “Your hair is so long, it makes you look as young as the day that we met.” He says as I continue to brush. He ties it up into a bun the way Cass instructs. I try to stay silent as Bok yanks at my head. “Sorry, you know if Cass finds stray hairs around the house that he’ll cut your hair again.” He says. “Not like your hair is short.” I joke looking at Bok’s appearance in the mirror. Bok has long black hair with red highlights. On a particularly boring day, I convinced him to let me dye his hair and he obliged. Cass laughed but wasn’t irritated like he would have been if it was me. \n\nBok laughs and then says “Let’s not tell Cass about the stair, okay?” He has a serious facial expression. “Why?” I question. He stays silent and I repeat it louder. He looks at me with a stern facial expression that is rare on his face. “Because you’re not supposed to know about it and he’s going to get mad. If you don’t tell him we can watch the sunrise and sunset. We can even just leave the stair off to let a little more air enter this house.” He answers. “Why can’t I know?” I ask as Bok looks through my jewelry box. He takes out a necklace that he and Cass gave me on my birthday and puts it around my neck. “The same reason you can’t leave.” He says blankly. I lay down in my bed and Bok leaves the room. I listen to music to get my mind off of Bok’s words. I hate to think about that. \n\nI get up late the next morning and Cass has already left for the day. Bok sits at the table pretending to read a book. “Do you want breakfast?” I ask pouring myself some coffee, another secret that Cass doesn’t know about. He gets up and grabs some coffee as well. I sit down next to Bok at the table. “Do you really think they’re still after me?” I ask looking down at his book. He looks at me and nods. “They don’t give up. Let’s go watch clouds.” He says gesturing me to follow him. As we sit watching the clouds on the staircase, I can’t help but worry. The death angels are still after me. Cass and Bok are risking everything in their angelhood to help me. How long can this go on?\n" ]	2
	[WP] A normal man is preparing his lunch before going to work when he cuts his hand while making his sandwich. There is no blood, just wires and a clear gooey liquid.	[ "He woke up to the sound of his alarm, went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, glanced over on his way to the kitchen to make sure he had laid all his clothes out the night before. Of course he had.\n\nWalking in to the kitchen, his mind was blank. There was nothing to think about. His morning routine had been tweaked to perfection over the years, every step and movement cemented in his muscle memory as he took the most efficient path from his bed to the office.\n\nOpen the fridge, take out the mayonnaise, meat, and lettuce, close the fridge, get a knife out with the other hand, turn, use the plate that is already set out.\n\nNone of this required any thought; no decisions, no uncertainties. It was the best way to do things. Why waste time?\n\nBut something was different as he began spreading mayonnaise on a slice of enriched white bread. Today, the emptiness of his mind seemed to be trying to catch his attention. The birds outside chirped, as they always did, yet he found himself fixating on each voice. \n\nHe stared at his half made sandwich. A thick layer of mayonnaise covered the slice of bread, with little ridges and valleys made from his knife strokes. There was no time allocated to staring at bread, and yet there he stood, perfectly still, examining every tiny crevasse and intricacy of the mayonnaise. It was a fingerprint of that morning, something that set it apart from every other seemingly identical morning.\n\nClosing his eyes, he took a deep breath. Could he always hear himself breath like this? He knew he had to be two or three minutes off schedule by now, but he was lost in his senses. The clock ticking, traffic outside, his own breathing, his own heart... It was all quiet, but it seemed as if the volume has been turned way, way up. Visions flashed before his eyes when he closed them, and his saw the rest of his day; his commute, the morning briefing, the exact level of productivity he would sustain, and his commute home. \n\nHe slowly picked up the butter knife. He felt nothing. He raised the utensil and examined it, his mind still blank. For a moment time seemed to stand still, and then he plunged the knife into his right hand with such force that it pieced right through and dug into the wooden counter. He wasn’t sure if he had screamed or not.\n\nSlowly, with some effort, he pulled the knife out of his hand and examined the wound. Intricate clumps of torn wires, clear, synthetic blood slowly oozing down his arm. He shook his head slowly.\n\nIt would be costly to repair, certainly, but he had saved his money responsibly. He could wrap his hand up for today and pass it off as a minor injury sustained accidentally. He was fine.\n\nThe truth, if anyone found out, would land him in an institute for thorough cybernetic system analysis and psychological compatibility testing. More than a century after the global implementation of cyborg technology, and still people were sometimes found to be unfit for society. Remnants of purely biological brains still caused some trouble in adapting to the modern regimented lifestyle, pushing against progress, back towards an existence of war, pettiness, and childish inefficiency. \n\nFourteen minutes lost. Hardly an example of psychological incompatibility. He straightened his tie with his bandaged hand. He had tripped and cut it on a rock, that was all. \n\nShoes on, light switch off, pick up briefcase in right hand, open door with left. He stepped out into the world, his mind nearly blank.", "Tipsy level: 4/10\n\n\"Dammit,\" he said looking down at his cut hand, \"I'm late enough already, I don't have time for a visit to the company mechanic.\" But he wrapped his hand up in cellophane, grabbed his briefcase, and walked out to the local transit stop. 20 minutes on the hoverbus later, he arrived at the factory where he worked. He promptly clocked in, then headed to the mechanic's office.\n\n\"That's a pretty good gash you've got there.\"\n\n\"Yeah, sliced it open making a sandwich this morning.\"\n\n\"You make your own sandwiches?\" The mechanic mused, unwrapping the cellophane and looking the man's hand over. \"That's a rarity with the free company kitchen available.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well, I guess I'm kinda old school like that,\" the man replied. The mechanic reached over on his desk and grabbed a staple gun. He pinched the broken skin together with his left hand and stapled the two pieces together with the staple gun with his right. He then took a rag out of his back pocket to mop up the gooey remnants of lubricant on his patient's palm. \"This'll keep things together for your shift today, but make sure to get it properly looked at this evening, okay? I think you may have severed a few wires in there. Worst-case scenario, they might have to replace the implant altogether.\" His patient flexed his hand a few times, then wiggled each finger individually.\n\n\"Thanks, this should do for now.\"\n\n\"You should consider upgrading to the newest model,\" the mechanic continued. \"The titanium models are much less susceptible to this kind of damage.\"\n\n\"I know,\" the man replied. He grabbed his work apron from where he had hung it on the wall. \"But I kind of like the flexibility the lithium models offer. Most guys out on the floor still have lithium models.\"\n\n\"Well, it's up to you,\" the mechanic shrugged, stood, and opened the door for his patient. \"You should look into the benefits of titanium models. I upgraded to titanium cybernetic implants on both arms and couldn't be happier. They use your own blood, you know, not synthetic lubricant. Makes for a quicker surgery recovery time.\"\n\n\"I'll think it over. In the meanwhile, thanks for the patch-up job,\" the man said, waving his stapled hand at the mechanic.\n\n\"Any time\" the mechanic returned, shaking the man's undamaged hand. The man then left his office and returned to the factory floor.", "Wet hair, eyes half open, he walked into his kitchen. Bread, cheese, meat. He opened \nthe fridge, got all three and put 'em together into the revered sandwich. The meal that's gotten him through many a day at the office. But today, Greg thought he'd add something new to his sandwich repertoire. He got his only kitchen knife and pulled a tomato out of the fridge, and he put it down on the table. Ready, aim, fire, but it's a miss. The tomato got cut fine, he just got a bit of his index finger in the process. Although a hand-sanitizing gel-like liquid left his hand, Greg saw the red of the tomato, felt the liquid coming out, and put two and two together into three. He simply, with difficulty in his morning stupor, put on a Spongebob-themed bandaid (an action that his son would be very outraged about, for its his bandaid), got dressed, packed the sandwich away into his briefcase(only ever used as a lunchbox), and got on his way.\n\nThe hour long commute was a tough one, but by the end Greg was ready to take on another mediocre day at his mediocre job.\n\"Hey Pam.\"\n\"Good morning, Greg\"\n\"What's the plan for today?\"\n\"We still have to convince that Russian client from yesterday\"\n\"Ugh, right,\" Greg sat at his desk, dialed the number that was saved in the form of a pink post-it note on his desk.\n\nHours later, stomach basically screaming for it's mid day meal, Greg put his briefcase on his desk, opened the unnecessary combination lock, and picked up his sandwich. He began eating it and, in his consumption activities, lost his prized Spongebob band-aid. He stared at it for a good minute. Then, another good minute. Then, a less than ideal minute. There was nothing except green wires. He started hyperventilating. He picked up the phone again, dropping his food, and dialed 9-1-1.\n\n\"What is it Greg?\" said Pam.\n\n\"Hello, 911, what's your emergency?\"\n\"Something's wrong with my hand-\"\n\"What is it?\"\n... \"Greg what's wrong?\"\n\"Sir?\"\n\"It's full of GREEN WIRES!\"\n\"I'm sorry, did you say green wires?\"\"\n\"Yes!\"\nPam grabbed Greg \"GREEN WIRES?!\"\n\"YES!\"\n\"Sir, I need you to go get a meat, cheese, and tomato sandwich and consume it as quickly as possible.\"\n\"A sandwich you say?\"\n\"Yes sir, you won't have much time to live if you don't do this right away.\"\n\"Wow, well it's my lucky day.\"\n\"Sir?\"\n\nGreg put the phone away and picked his disassembled sandwich off his desk. While Pam was freaking out, Greg reassembled his sandwich, chowed down, and let out a sigh of satisfaction, with his stomach full and saturated. He looked at his cut again, with red wires as normal, and let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to die of the dreaded Veggieless Sandwich Syndrome today. Not today.", "It started off as any normal Tuesday, preparing my sandwiches for the hard day ahead and running slightly late as always. Today was a cheese day. I always took longer today as I could never cut the cheese right, one side was always thicker than the other, which I knew would annoy me later when I got the overwhelming taste of cheese and no taste of bread. But with no time to fix it I hurried with my slicing to try and miss getting stuck in the morning rush, which undoubtedly would make me late…\n”Ouch” I exclaim as I feel the pain of the blade graze the skin off the top of my right hand. Its right where the joint is, I just know this is going to hinder me for the next few days. As I reach for a damp cloth I notice that the liquid running from the cut isn’t red but clear. I can see the metal and wires running underneath and slowly feel myself start to panic. What look like mini threads start pinching at the scratch from the inside, pulling the fabric of my skin back together as I try and mop up the clear liquid dripping from my hand when he walks in. “Come quick” I rush towards him shoving my hand in his face, “I do..don’t understand” I squeal at him as my mind is humming with confusion. But he just looks at me and strokes my hair in the loving manner as he always does. Does he not see the liquid? Why isn’t it red? My brain starts to hurt with the million and one questions running through it when I feel him fiddling with something at the nape of my neck. “What are you doing” I go to say when I hear it click over. \nI blink a few times to gather my surroundings; I must have been daydreaming again. When I look into his eyes as he gives me his playful smile “you’re going to be late again “he teases. Oh dear, I check the time and realise I need to get a move on, I look down at my unmarked hands holding the cheese knife and smile back “I’ll just buy something there I need to get going Hun” I say cheerily as I head for the door, bags hanging off one arm and knife in the other. But as I leave I look down at my hand and know this is the first time I’ve remembered.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Wait a minute... What's on the other side of this wall?	[ " I am the last remaining member of the Destiny Voyage. Once it was possible to travel faster than light, my team and I were given the task to take our ship as far as it will go, in hopes of finding other civilizations among the stars. We brought hope to planet Earth as we boarded our ship and left home. We were put into cryogenic sleep for 100 years as our ship guided us through the galaxy. When the hundred years were up, 5 out of my team of 20 had not made it though the cryogenic process including my co-pilot and husband, Darren Emmons. Yet, I kept on. This mission was greater than myself, so emotions had to wait. \n\nAfter about a month, we were already collecting new information that we haven't been able to get back at Earth. We were true pioneers. Then we came up on it, the wall. A slightly curved, mirrored wall. We didn't even notice it until we almost hit it and saw our ship in the reflection. Once we stopped, I put on a suit and went out to inspect it. I remember touching the smooth surface, and to my surprise it wasn't hard, but rather when I touched it, it rippled like water. \n\nThen my reflection did something I didn't. It looked up, past my shoulder and then reached through and grabbed my arm. It pulled me through the barrier between us just as the universe I knew and love collapsed behind me and I was to live the rest of my life in a parallel universe. In a world I should have never been in. But in this world, my husband is still alive.", "\"Is this it?\" He asked; \"Because this doesn't look like much of anything...\"\n\n\"Why yes sir this is it,\" The Wizard responded. \"You'd be surprised by what wonders lie beyond this...wall.\" The Wizard gives the man an evil grin while mischievously pointing his finger at the top of The Wall as if to point over it.\n\nThe Wall looked to be a few stories high and was beaten to hell. It was made from concrete and was a very odd, and now faded, salmon color. Right in front of the man was his ticket into the bizarre, a ladder missing the first 8 rungs. The rest of the ladder seemed broken down as well, which caused the man to second guess his decision, but seeing that it was currently half past noon and he didn't need to make his journey downtown just yet to pick up his wife, he thought he might as well continue to humor this man that calls himself \"The Wizard.\"\n\n\"So, what was supposed to be over this wall again?\" the man asked.\n\n\"Your greatest nightmares...\" said the Wizard.\n\n\"Do you mean my nightmares of today?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" The Wizard ask, now with a hint of concern in his voice.\n\n\"Well, what if today I'm afraid of you when yesterday I wasn't? Will you be over this wall?\"\n\n\"No...\"\n\n\"So are you saying you're not allowed to be a nightmare? You're immune to possessing nightmare qualities? Are you not scary or evil or..\"\n\nThe Wizard cut him off, \"No i'm not saying any of that!\"\n\n\"Then why can't you be a nightmare? Why can't I see you over the wall?\"\n\n\"Because it doesn't work that way!\" The Wizard screams out.\n\n\"But what if I want it to..?\"\n\nThe Wizard then straightens up from his posture that caused him to hunch over as if he were looking for a nickel that just wasn't there on the ground and then he holds his arms out. His limbs begin to grow causing him to increase his height, his eyes become bigger, his nose falls off and his skin changes to a neon green, which looks funny given the time of day. He leans over into the man's face and yells, \"Do you want me to give you nightmares?! Because I'll do it! Then you'll find me over this damn wall! The reason why I won't be there is because it contains your greatest nightmare! Not something you're currently scared!\"\n\nOn top of the change in his appearance, his breath also took a turn for the worst which was noted by both the man and The Wizard.\n\nIn a matter of seconds the Wizard returns to his old form.\n\n\"Just please, go over the wall already,\" said the Wizard, now caressing his head as if to relieve a headache that may or may not exist.\n\n\"Ok,\" said the man. \"I will. But only because of the money promised if I were to survive it.\"\n\nThe Wizard's face fills with the same evil green as if he found the remote for his mouth and pressed the play button again. It was such a textbook grin, and one worth noting, because to overlook it would be downplaying how much effort he's giving just to be devious.\n\nThe man hops up and grabs the side of the broken ladder and begins to pull himself up. As he climbs, he starts asking himself the important questions that he probably would've asked earlier had he not been rushed into this.\n\n\"Will I really make it home before lunch? Is it lunchtime right now? Why didn't I eat breakfast? Man, I'm thirst...\"\n\n\"Stop thinking and more climbing!\" The Wizard shouts at the man. \"You don't have all day to do this!\"\n\nThe man snaps out of his trance to realize that he stopped climbing just to think these things. He realizes that The Wizard is right, he doesn't have all day to think about these things. He doesn't have all day to be over this wall. He just needs to hop over, look at what lies ahead, face it, then collect his prize before the evening. Simple as that.\n\nNearing the top of The Wall the man looks down one last time to see an open field that contains not one single wizard. \n\n\"Damn, this is higher than I thought it was,\" he says to himself.\n\nNow at the edge of the fence he sees a button on his right that The Wizard told him to press once he reaches the top. The Wizard reassured him that it was safe and that it would take him to the bottom of the wall. He presses it.\n\nThe ladder he was just climbing goes through the wall and comes out on the other side as a slide. He takes the slide to the bottom and meets The Wizard.\n\n\"I knew you'd be here! This was a damn trick!\" \n\n\"It was not,\" said The Wizard. \"Your nightmare is in this area, but you have one more decision to make...\"\n\n\"And that is?\"\n\n\"I'm going to need you to go through this door since...\"\n\nThe man cuts him off, \"Is this what you plan on doing all day? First you drag me out to this field to find this wall, then you tell me to climb it because there will be 'scary things' on the other side. There's nothing here other than you. You're not scary and this isn't funny to me anymore.\"\n\nThe man turns away from The Wizard to climb back across The Wall but was stunned in place upon looking in the new direction. The man was looking at a woman nailed to The Wall. Covered in blood with her intestines hanging out of her stomach,her limbs mangled, her body a wreck other than her face untouched, there was no doubt that this woman was the man's wife. The man's eyelids begin to break out in a seizure as he struggles to understand what just happened and what's going. In the background, the door breaks open and the sound of people running flood into the area. He's now surrounded. He turns around to face The Wizard holding a knife out at him. Behind The Wizard there were 20-30 people with guns pointing at the man. \n\nThe man falls to his knees and breaks into tears." ]	2
	[WP] A man discovers a book his dead grandfather wrote years ago which was never published. While reading, he discovers the main character's life matches his own exactly. Describe his reaction as he reads the last chapter of the novel.	[ "The attic floor creaked under Justin's weight as his weight shifted.\n\nHe couldn't stop reading. \n\nThe sunset-light from a lone ocular window shone down on dust particles hung suspended, waiting.\n\nIt was nothing special, but the volume had caught his eye among a pile of other dust-covered books, with its Crimson red cloth-bound cover. \n\nHis grandfather had died a week ago, and now it was up to his family to go through his things, in the old decrepit house that he refused to move out of. The attic was half storage, and a half study it seemed, which was strange since the large house had plenty of rooms which his grandfather could have used for a study.\nStranger still was the fact that his grandfather had stated in the will that everything in the \"Nook\" as his grandfather had called it, belonged to him.\n\nHe had simply picked up the red book, blown the dust off the cover.\nTurned to a random page and Read the first sentence at the top.\n\nJustin sat awake in bed staring at the ceiling, which had become a regular occurrence as of June.\n\nHe was immediately intrigued because of the characters name.\nBut as he read further he began to shiver.\nThe paragraph went into extreme details about the train of thought of the character, and Justin realized that the passage was a moment straight out of his life. It was a night where he had come to a lot of serious life realizations.\n\nBut it couldn't be his life.\n\nHe flipped a couple more pages scanning them quickly.\nThe next paragraph he read described the moment that Justin found out his best friend Dennis had died from cancer. The sorrow described was spot on. Justin wasn't sure if he could have been able to describe it as well as this strange book did.\n\nThis cant be\n\nHe flipped every couple of pages and read some of the lines.\nFights with his parents, arguing about the move, high school, college, it was all there.\n\nHe put the book down and walked away...\n\nHis Grandfather had been a crazy, always cooked up in his house, never going anywhere expect in necessity.\nFrom what his mother had told him, he had been into some strange things. Always studying obscure pseudosciences and ancient religions.\n\nBut how could Justin explain this? He had barely known the man, since he would never leave his home.\nHow could this be possible? Did he study the stars and see the future? Did he see it in a dream? Could he warp through time or travel between dimensions?\nCould the other books down there were other family members?\n\nBut instead of checking, Justin went back to the book and hesitantly picked it up.\nAnd turned to the last two pages.\n\nJustin's mind was fraught with the endless possibilities of how his grandfather could have been able to write the entirely of his life down into a book. He didn't have to look at the rest of the pages before to know that it was so. And he could never imagine the fiendish means by which his grandfather had acquired the ability able to foresee his grandson's life a whole and not as a moment.\n\nJustin had to escape from the thing which his grandfather had brought into this world.\n\nAnd so Justin dropped the book and ran.\n\nJustin looked at the words.\n \nJustin dropped the book and ran\n\nWhy would he run? What was he running from?\nHe continued on.\n\nJustin, do not turn the page, stop reading and run, for God's sake.\n\nThen from the floorboards where the books were strewn across the floor, a thick black fog began to seep from beneath the floorboards, and its tendrils began to wrap themselves around the support beams of the small, dusty room.\n\nAnd then, Justin heard a whisper.\n\n\"It's too late boy. You should have run.\"\n\nJustin dropped the book and ran.\n\nJustin hastily ran down the hallway, dodging random items that his grandfather had forgotten to store. \nThe smoke had finally assembled itself into a vague humanoid structure, which moved with horrible, unnatural speed.\nHow could such thing of darkness move almost as fast as light?\nIt moved through the door and was in the hallway before Justin had even reached the old creaky stairs.\n\nJustin ran down the long staircase and his mind was a white blank wall of fear, and then there were four walls and they were closing in all around him. He knew that there had only been one page left, and deep in the pit of his stomach he knew that the crimson codex contained the sum of his life. And as he half bounded and half tripped down the stairs, he wondered why these circumstances had unfolded themselves.\nWhy did it have to be him. What horrible thing had his grandfather done?\nBut he would never know his death would be the unfortunate circumstance of a mere mortal man trying to halt the earth from meeting its impending demise.\n\nAnd so Justin reached the front door, but a tendril of obsidian murk slammed it shut. And the last thing Justin ever saw, was darkness.\n\nThe End\n\n ", "“Well, I suppose all of that takes it to about when he died,” you say as you turn the page to see it’s blank. It had contained everything you had told him about over the phone and the many excitements of your life. It was always nice to talk to him, he listened to every detail you said and never once complained. It’s not surprising to you at all that there are still some blank pages considering that it was written in a journal book, rather than being typed. Still, you can’t help but keep turning the pages in case old grandpa left a note for you.\n\nAfter turning a few more pages, you notice a new chapter. “This can’t be possible,” you mumble, “This would have taken place after he died.” As you begin to read the next chapter, tears begin to fall onto the pages, their rate increasing the further you get into the chapter. By the time you get to the end your eyes are raw and you are unable to cry any longer. All your grandpa had wanted for years was to see you in person. You only talked to him over the phone. You didn’t have enough time to visit him because of the large distance you would have to travel and your boss who never seemed to give you a break, heck, he probably would have found a way to fire you if you had tried to take a vacation. But in the book, described in perfect detail, was a day where you and he were in the park, playing games with him again like you always used to when you were younger. For all of these years, all he wanted was to spend time with you but you couldn’t make the time for him.\n\nWith the full realization having hit you like a train, you decide to go on a walk. Where to? It didn’t matter. You just had to get your mind off of this.\n\nAs you walk out the door, a faint whisper leaves your lips, “I’m sorry grandpa… I love you so much.”\n\n-\n\nHopefully this turned out okay, this being the first time I've written something off of a prompt. Once I saw this though, I knew I had to write it.", "Rob could hardly believe what he was reading. Page after page, the character his grandfather had written about was all too familiar. It was more than coincidence, it was uncanny. Even the name was similar, though his grandfather had died before Rob was even born.\n\nUnable to restrain himself, Rob turned to the last chapter. He simply had to know what happened to his alter-ego. His eyes widened as he read...\n\nChapter 39\n\nRobert could hardly believe what he was reading. Page after page, the character his grandfather had written about was all too familiar. it was more than coincidence, it was uncanny. Even the name was similar, though his grandfather had died before Robert was even born.\n\nUnable to restrain himself, Robert turned to the last chapter. He simply had to know what happened to his alter-ego. His eyes widened as he read...\n\n- Chapter 39\n\n- Bob could hardly believe what he was reading. Page after page, the character his grandfather had written about was all too familiar. it was more than coincidence, it was uncanny. Even the name was similar, though his grandfather had died before Bob was even born.\n\n- Unable to restrain himself, Bob turned to the last chapter. He simply had to know what happened to his alter-ego. His eyes widened as he read...", "My eyes scanned the pages of the tremendous tome, darting from one to the next as I realized what I was reading. Around me, the candles burned and my grandfather's mementos of Haitian Vodou leaned against the desk that I hovered over. The shadow of a wicker doll, stabbed through the feet and glued to a block, stood flickering against the wall. The cabin was becoming colder and colder. \n\nJeffrey's eyes scanned the pages, darting from one to the next as he realized what he was reading. His entire life. His entire existence. All written down before he took his first breath. The cabin was becoming colder and colder. Jeffrey's bare arms shivered. He felt like the universe was collapsing with every word he read. With every word, he was catching up with Fate.\n\nThe chapters before were like a memory for me. My scraped knee when I was 12, the details of the incident down to a tee. He described my first intimate moment with a woman, how I was underperformed and embarrassed. My wedding. The birth of my son. Even my grandfather's own death. What was going on? Had my fate been ordained by my grandfather? This dead man who barely knew me? \n\nI turned the page.\n\nChapter 40\n\nThere were only two pages left. It had to be the last chapter. \n\nJeffrey turned to the final chapter. His hands were trembling at the thought of his grandfather's witchery. The man was a well-known practitioner of voodoo in Port-au-Prince. The cabin and all its contents were given to Jeffrey by the old man. And this book... this book seemed to be the reason why.\n\nI read on, shaking my head. It couldn't be real. There's no way. \n\nJeffrey shook his head in disbelief, attempting to grasp the idea that maybe his grandfather had seen the future. Or maybe he was his grandfather. Or perhaps he is just going insane.\n\nI started to think I really was. \n\nThe door of the cabin burst open. A man stood at the threshold, his face shielded by the darkness. His skin was black, darker than Jeffrey's. He held a shotgun in both hands. The man breathed heavily, before pointing the barrel at Jeffrey, and pulling the trigger.\n\n\"What?\" I said to myself. I waited. There was nothing. No noise outside, no one in sight. There's no way it was real. Nothing is happening. \n\nI shut the book. There's no way this is anything more than coinsid--\n\nThe door burst open, revealing the anonymous figure of a man. His shotgun elevated, I could hear him breathing from across the cabin.\n\nI raised my hands, \"Don't.\"\n\nA roar came from the barrel, and a splintering pain busted through my chest. I felt drained, my chest leaking like a broken canoe. I fell to the floor, grabbing the desk for support, but failed, bringing my grandfather's novel with me. The man stepped into the cabin, his boots clopping on the wood panels. He stood over me and looked down. His face was obscured once more, not by darkness, but my blurring vision. He looked to his right, towards the doorway, where I heard a clammer of footsteps approach my head. Two more men joined the first, all looking at my dying self. My throat was filling with blood. I heard a sigh from one of the men. \n\n\"This guy is too young to be him,\" said the shooter.\n\n\"He's too American, too,\" said one of the new men. \"He wouldn't know how to take it off.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" said the shooter. \n\n\"I'm...\" I coughed spittles of blood, \"my name is Jeffrey.\"\n\n\"Are you related to Thierry Roumain?\"\n\n\"I'm his grandson.\"\n\nThey looked at each other. My shooter leaned down to his knees, resting his hand onto my forehead. I could finally see his face clearly. His face was rotting; cheeks crusty, skin peeling away from his skull. \n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he whispered, standing up and leading the other men out of the cabin. The clopping of their shoes faded under the sound of my beating heart. \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] A young boy faces punishment for a heinous crime he is not sure he commited	[ "As I make my way to the juvenile detention centre I take note of how beautiful everything looks at night in the country; everything is bathed a in beautiful ethereal glow, allowing me to see all the way up the drive without the need of the usual torch I carry. \n\nWe've had a new ‘in-mate’ in the last couple of days. His DNA was found on and around the corpses of 12 people, I say corpses it would be more accurate to say pieces. No family, no friends, homeless, he had to come here until the investigation was finished, even if he is a lot younger than what we usually take. He says he doesn't know if he did it, he can’t remember that night. Unless he’s been drugged by something that doesn't show up our screening, drugs are out of the question. So he’s either lying or he had a psychotic break.\n\nFinally, I put my key-card in the front door of the facility. I turn to say my greetings to the guard on door duty but he’s not there... Must be some trouble on one of the departments. It’s eerily quiet tonight, there’s usually some shouting, crying or * shudder * moaning. I rush my way through to my department, I'm covering someone’s shift tonight and they've been without a supervisor for an hour... Long enough for someone to notice and take advantage of that. \n\nI grab my post from my pigeon-hole and read the reports and letters on the walk to my office, my eyes down I can feel theirs on me, I need to get some paperwork done before I can come out and talk to them. I spend an hour or so catching up on paperwork and the updates of each of our inmate’s cases. Strange... It seems Kevin, the boy found with the bodies, had an animal with him at the time of the murders. None was found nearby and there’s no exit marks found at the scene. I need to talk to him about this. I grab the file and make my way out into the hall. My eyes up and looking for his cell. \n\nHorror. Gore. Fucking depravity. The doors to each of the cells are tornopen, there’s bodies, bits of bodies and blood all over. I turn to get back into my office to call in the homicide around me when I hear some gurgling from the cell closest to me; I make my way over slowly. It was Kevin and Tom’s cell, Tom’s on the floor... His stomach is ripped open, his intestines spilled out. His left arm is gone. He’s lying in a pool of his own blood. \n\nI kneel next to him and brush a lock of hair back from his eyes. “Tom, can you hear me? What happened?” His eyes flick to mine and he whispers one word that chills me to the bone. “Kevin.” His eyes flicker and close but I can still feel a pulse. I dash out of the room. What I see in the hall makes me freeze. A monster: huge, covered in fur, with teeth the size of my hand and hands (paws?) the size of my head. I gasp, in retrospect a stupid idea, drawing its attention to me. Its massive jowls dripping with saliva and blood; a chunk of something falling with the drool/blood mix when its head snaps to the side. It takes a step towards me. I yell at it to stop, I plead with it. Every step it takes bringing my death closer. With one final thought rattling through my head I repeat the last word I had spoken to me. \n\n“Kevin?” \n\nIt pauses and tilts its head. Jesus Christ... it might actually be him! \n\nIt growls, low and threatening, it’s massive jaws making their way towards my head. I turn my face away from the creature, not wanting to see what will be causing my untimely demise and I look out of the window of the cell at the beautiful, big full moon. My final thoughts are: If he can’t remember turning into this thing he really won't know what he did. ", "Timmy couldn't take it anymore. The accusations and counter-accusations had been flying for what seemed like hours. Now he sat in mute misery, mouth dry, heart fluttering like a panicked hummingbird. Please, he thought. Please.\n\nThe other children sat in an inward-facing circle; only Angie stood, blond and snub-nosed and pitiless. Her pale eyes skimmed the circle dispassionately, once, twice, again. Please, Timmy thought once more. Nothing more coherent would come. But after all this time, his luck, it seemed, had finally run out. Angie's implacable finger swept a semicircle and stopped, pointing unwaveringly at Timmy. Her voice was clear and ringing:\n\n\"Timmy stole the cookie from the cookie jar!\"\n\nTimmy scrambled to his feet as best he could, hands shaking. His mind was a cacophony of mindless terror. \"Who, me?\" He hated the tremor in his voice, the incipient tears, but was powerless to control them.\n\n\"Yes.\" Angie's voice was as cool and emotionless as her eyes. \"You.\"\n\nTimmy's lower lip trembled traitorously. He wanted to shout, to cry, to deny everything, but no words came. He swallowed hard, but still his mind remained blank. In place of all his half-articulated alibis and explanations was only the rote response: \"Couldn't be.\" Angie's mouth curved in the merest hint of a smile, at once mocking and sympathetic. Here it comes, thought Timmy faintly... but for the briefest of moments there was silence. Angie, he could tell, was savoring this moment, savoring the power she wielded - perhaps for the last time - and savoring, too, his torment.\n\nAnd then - \n\nPerfect, crystalline, Angie's words dropped into the silent room like raindrops into a mountain lake: \"Then... who?\"\n\nTimmy closed his eyes and prayed for it to be over. He could think of nothing to say. Nothing at all." ]	2
	[WP] Write a story about time travel, but the past isn't what we think it is.	[ "I remember the first time i saw her, we were both 13, and i was walking to my middle school. Then i heard her yell my name from far away “nikola!” I turned and saw a cute girl with jet black hair running through the street from the other side towards my direction. I had never seen that girl in my life before, but she ran with the confidence of an old friend, and smiled like if she was happy to see me, I couldn't do anything but be taken back and fully accept the jumping hug she gave me. then she grabbed my face and looked into my eyes, “I found you” . I wasn't sure what to do so i just smiled nervously and said “you found me” with a broken whisper.\n\nShe was the smartest girl I had ever meet, she knew everything about everything, even more than the adults. yet she always listen intently like if what i had to say mattered. it wasn't long before i had a big crush on her, but i never did anything about it.\n\nher name was sayla, and somehow she managed to get every single class i got through the full of middle school, even classes I had to retake when I was fully aware she had passed. I wasn't sure what her deal was, she never talked about her family, and stayed very vague when i asked her questions about herself. she would always make me read, and make me question everything about life.I wasn't sure why she wanted me to learn all these things, but for her i happily obliged. we started getting into physics in 7th grade, she had pushed me to learn much more than the school system ever had, and yet she was always far ahead of me, like a teacher, but one that was my age. by 8th grade the math they were teaching in school was child's play compared to the math she was making me do, i was passing each class easily and spend most of my free time reading the books she gave me and listening to her lectures. \n\nA large amount of the kids in school always had a crush on her, but she was all mine, and i did everything i could to make her happy and keep things that way, even if it meant reading a book on the history of mankind before I went to sleep, or passing over the theories of quantum mechanics while eating my breakfast. \n\nEverything went like that until we hit 10th grade. by that time school was no longer important to me, I easily passed every class without even having to try, and my head would be full of numbers and theories all day long. Sayla was the only person that could understand me, she made me who i was today, and not once had i ever surpassed her vast knowledge, i knew she was different, but i didn't know exactly why.\n\nthen one day sayla was drawing herself on a notebook while we sat on a roof eating lunch, and she said “ do you believe in time travel?”\n\n“well, anything is possible” i threw back the line that she would tell me any time i asked her a question of the sorts.\n\nThen she clenched her pencil and said it again, this time with a little anger in her voice.\n“do you believe in time travel?”\n\n“yes.. I.. i do, I've had this theory I've been playing with”\n\nThen she smiled, and looked up into the sky and said “good”.\n\n\ni was a little confused but i had learned to simply accept the mysteries surrounding her by this time, but what happened next was not anything i would have ever been prepared for.\n\nshe said “look” and grabbed the apple from my hand, then threw it in the air, but it didn't fall. it just stayed there floating and spinning, faster and faster until it exploded and splashed bits of apple into my face.\n\n“magic?” i said as i jumped back in surprise.\n\n“magic, science, magic, science” she said with a smirk “what's the difference?”.\n\nthats when her teachings took a twist, she showed me the language of nature, I could whisper to the equations of physics, asking them to budge a little to the left or a little to the right, making things happen as i wished.\n\nshe showed me how to make fire from oxygen, how to walk through the cracks in the vibrating atoms of the wall. how to ask the neurons in someone's brain to change their memory slightly. it was magic for sure, but you had to understand how the world worked to command It, physics came in handy as i could change a number or two from inertia, friction, or gravity to float down from a tall building. i could ask the flowers to speed up their process and grow faster.\n\nme and sayla, we could do anything, we were untouchable, immortal, we could control the world like a canvas. \n\nthen i turned 19, and that's when it happened, she walked me into a field and said.\n\n“there, that's it, that's all you ever thought me” i was confused, but once again i didn't question her. then she started looking around counting with her lips.\n\n“what are you doing?” i said.\n\n“waiting” she looked down at her watch.\n\n“waiting for what?” i was growing curious.\n\n“waiting for you” she smiled again.\n\nthats when she got close to my ear and whispered one last equation into my head. then it all made sense.\n\n“t..t.. time travel? time travel?” she had given me the formula to jump through time like a pool made of jello \n\n“Its only been five and a half years” she said \n“go back, plug in that number and jump back into your head” \n\nI didn't want to. I didn't want to lose her. then she said, “don't worry, ill be waiting here” she looked back at her watch, and took out a different one from her pocket, this one was broken. she smiled again.\n\nthen she broke the watch in her wrist, took it out and gave it to me. I looked at it and it had the year, month, day, and minute, all frozen as she had broken it.\n\n“NOW!” she yelled. and i activated the numbers, whispering to time to let me walk through it, and it accepted me and curled around me. then a second before i disappeared i saw myself coming into reality in front of her, looking at the broken watch she had given me while she looked at hers they both hugged, and then I was gone.\n\nI appeared in the sidewalk, “I remember this, i was walking to school” then i saw sayla on the other side of the street, this was the day we meet. \n\nBut she just kept walking, she didn't run at me or was happy to see me. that's when it hit me, i knew what i had to do.\n\nI yelled her name and she froze up and looked at my direction, then i ran across the street and hugged her as she was still frozen in confusion, then i looked into her eyes and whispered “I found you”\n\nthen she looked at me and said “what?”.", "Time to go again. George shivered. He did every time he sat in the chair. Maybe it was the power. Maybe the nerves. Maybe the fear.\n\nTime travel was never simple. Limiting himself to once per year, for fear of altering the continuum, George was nonetheless excited. It was always interesting. He always learned. But only from a distance.\n\nThe locals couldn't spot him. They would fear. They might even kill him. Worse though, coming back might not be possible, for the further you go, the broader an effect you have.\n\nThis time though... George wanted to go further back. He'd seen the slaughter at Stalingrad. The crowning of Queen Victoria. Hannibal's elephants. The Mongol hoards. Boudica fight the Romans. All that and more, but it wasn't enough.\n\nForget the dinosaurs. No sense getting eaten. Further back. To where the air was breathable but only just. What would he find?\n\nWith a breath, George pushed in the coordinates. The room whirled and his stomach lurched. Like always, he closed his eyes. He liked to be surprised.\n\nTo his consternation, his first sound was... elevator music. George opened his eyes.\n\nHad something gone wrong? It had to have. For he was in a room. A room... with no door.\n\nChecking the coordinates, he had indeed arrived at the right time... but then what was the meaning of this?\n\nHesitantly getting out of the chair, George sniffed the air. It had a certain metallic smell. Almost coppery. And he felt lighter. Strange.\n\nHe'd seen some weird things, but this took the cake.\n\nSuddenly, a voice boomed throughout the room. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard, and in no recognizable language. Yet... George understood it.\n\n\"You are hereby placed in confinement, on account of your violation of Penal Code III, under section Delta.\"\n\n\"What in the hell for? What's going on??\" George gasped.\n\n\"Please wait for your prosecutioner.\"\n\n\"Wha-\" George was cut off as a loud POP blasted behind him.\n\nWhirling around, he saw a solid metal desk in place of his machine, and a diminutive man behind it. The man wore glasses and a three-piece suit of an unknown material. He studied George for a moment and motioned for him to sit in a chair that was suddenly behind his legs.\n\n\"I.. what is going on??\" \n\nAgain uttering in that strange language that he could somehow understand, the man answered in an extremely monotone voice, as if he'd done the same thing a thousand times.\n\n\"You stand accused of violating Penal Code III, under section Delta.\"\n\n\"I don't even know what that is.\" George spluttered.\n\n\"How do you plead?\"\n\n\"What in the hell is going on?!\"\n\n\"Please, this is an official record. If you do not plead, a verdict will be sent down regardless.\"\n\n\"Well not guilty of course!\"\n\n\"That is not a plea. Two options exist: You may choose your punishment. Death, or hard labor. Choose please.\"\n\n\"Wha.. am I not allowed a defense? Or knowledge of my crime??\"\n\n\"You have been advised of your crime. Defense of yourself is unnecessary as your guilt has been determined prior to this meeting. How do you plead?\"\n\n\"Can't you just explain? I don't understand what is going on!\" George begged pathetically.\n\nSlowly taking off his glasses, the man sighed, and pushed a button that appeared on the desk. \"I don't have time for this, I would like to go home you know.\"\n\n\"I'm sure, but so would I.\"\n\nThe man once again studied him for a moment. \"Do you really think that you're the first?\"\n\n\"First what?\"\n\n\"Traveler of course. The problem has become endemic and the policy is quick prosecution.\"\n\n\"How am I supposed to know that? Why can't I just leave?\"\n\nAlmost rolling his eyes, the man sighed again. \"You think we can let you leave with that machine? So more of you can show up? We have thousands every day, from every time. The technology must be limited.\"\n\n\"This isn't fair!\"\n\n\"You want to know what's not fair?\" The man seemed to become agitated. \"Having your daughter's birthday party and one of you shows up and starts wrecking things. You are an infestation and must be eliminated.\"\n\n\"What about justice??\"\n\n\"Justice? You interlopers know no justice. I've seen your history. You know nothing of us and yet you think you can apply your time to ours. You never learn. We are far more advanced then you realize, yet we understand that our history is to die. That is our doom. We accept it.\" The man paused dramatically, and almost whispered, \"Why can you not understand our wish is to do so peacefully?\"\n\n\"I'm.. I'm sorry. Can I help?\"\n\n\"No. Just as our destiny is to perish, yours is to bother us. The solution is to rid the Times of this technology and live in peace.\" Pushing the button again, the man continued. \"I ask again, how do you plead?\"\n\nGeorge shivered, but this time for a different reason. He had a sense of impending calamity, that he knew could not be avoided. With a shake, \"Hard labor please, if there is no other choice.\"\n\nThe man nodded and disappeared before George's eyes. The room was empty.\n\nWith nothing to do, he sat down and contemplated his situation. Nothing good could come of \"hard labor.\"\n\nIn the distance, George heard a knocking sound. Like a ring against a wooden surface, but more hollow sounding. It got louder and it's pace slowed, to once every few seconds.\n\nJust when it sounded like it was outside the room, it stopped.\n\nAnd George shivered." ]	2
	[WP] You move to Gotham and once settled into your new apartment, you find that your phone number is only 1 digit different from Batman's emergency line.	[ "\"Hello?\"\n\nA raspy voice called thru the ear piece, \"I hope I have your attention.\"\n\n\"...yes, who is this?\"\n\nA sigh then, rapid breathing. \"I need your darkness, I need your light.\nOnly YOU can save them.\"\n\n\"I..I.. Who is this?\" \n\"What do you want?\" \n\nMore rapid breathing, fluttering. I could hear their steps walking along concrete. The wail of a siren in the distance. It seemed to echo in both my ears.\n\n\"I'm Alice, and my whole family was killed in a shoot out between the police and some men robbing a bank...\nI need answers Batman, I need justice...\"", "It was a clear night, and the ground was wet from the rain shower that had taken place hours before. I was walking home from a movie, a midnight premier, in fact, and the streets were all but deserted. Off in the distance, I saw a figure approach. Slightly unsettled, I kept walking briskly and averted my eyes. The figure, a tall, middle-aged man, bumped into me, causing for my phone, an iPhone, to fall out of my shallow coat pocket. \n\n\"I'm sorry\" I mumble, even though it was his fault. I reach for my phone, but the man picked it up first. My lock screen lit up, and the man glanced at my phone. I, being as paranoid as I am, had my lock screen set to display the phone number of my apartment so if I lost it and someone found it, they could return it. The man handed me back my phone with a smirk. I gave him a quizzical glance, to which he responded,\n\n\"It's nothing, just that a close friend of mine has a very similar phone number as yours. I'm James, I'm with the police. I'll tell you now, though, you're better off ignoring any strange phone calls you might get. They're probably meant for my friend.\"\n\nAnd with that, the man, James, handed me back my home and continued his walk. \n\nIt's been four months since I met James. I haven't gotten any odd phone calls. I guess that everyone really does just save phone numbers in their contacts now-a-days.", "Leave a message after the beep. \n\n\"HAHAHA there's a bomb floating down the river heading towards the orphanage. You know who HAHAHA\" \n\nLeave a message after the beep\n\n\"Hey batman it's billy. My grandma wants you to come over and get the newspaper off her roof. She's says she will give you two shinny quarters. I told her you were busy but she made me call......sorry\n\nLeave a message after the beep \n\n\"Andrew this is your mother! I've been calling all day but the line is busy. Call me right away!\" \n\n", "The phone rings. I pick it up, hesitantly. Just as I feared, it's him again. \"This is Commissioner-\" \nI cut him off. \"Wrong number.\" I recently moved to Gotham City, because the rent in my metropolis apartment was too high. The apartment here was nicer, the rent was lower. What could go wrong? \nMy phone number. That's what. Apparently,The Batman's police hotline is 1 digit off from mine. Every few days, I get a panicked call from the commissioner. Someone new has broken out of Arkham. Can't they get better security on that nuthouse? There's been 5 breakouts this month. And they don't report them all. Only the big ones. And not \"big\" as in the Joker, or Two-Face, or Zsasz. \"Big\" like the ones they can't cover up. You don't realized just how bad the city is until you keep getting in the way of The Batman. \n\nSo I am doing something about this. Batman obviously can't handle everyone himself. \n\nThe gear is in my closet. The kevlar vest from ebay. The black balaclava. The black-market handgun I bought of off some sketchy arms dealer who probably sells most of his gear to arkham escapees. I'm waiting for the next phone call from Gordon, and then I'm going to do something about this.", "\"Look buddy. My parents are already dead. I'm not scheduled to start work for another week yet. And it's two o'clock in the fucking morning.\" I paused. \"You would think, when I didn't answer the phone the first five times, that maybe, just maybe I didn't want to talk to you.\"\n\n\"But Ba..\" I cut him off. He could here the edge in my voice. Honestly, it was probably a little more intense than I wanted, but the phone just kept ringing. I was beginning to twitch like Pavlov's dog.\n\n\"Stop. I don't care. It's two o'clock in the morning. I need to sleep. I'm not Superman. I'm not Green Lantern. I don't have the superpower of staying awake 24/7. So unless you can give me one good reason, in fifteen seconds or less, I'm going to pull this phone out of the wall.\"\n\nI paused.\n\n\"For fuck's sake.... you want 8328. not 8238. I'll mail you a pack of post-it notes if it will keep you from waking me up again.\"\n\n", "The commissioner called again the other day. I hate to keep disappointing him. No one has seen that bat freak for weeks now. Maybe he finally gave up and left us all to rot. Maybe he finally picked a fight with someone who could take him out. Who knows.\n\nIt rings again. Let the machine take care of it.\n\n>Hello? Can you help me? I don't know if you're there... He'll be back any minute. Please...545 Main Street, I'm in the closet... But he'll be back....oh god please....\n\nShe was scared. Real scared. Why is this my problem? Aren't these damn cops worth a damn anymore?\n\n....the door clicked closed behind me.\n\n\nNo bat, no justice, it's only each other now.", "It was 10:30 night, I just had my dinner and was preparing to go to bed. Deep down I was feeling so happy, that I was here. Well I wanted to be in New York but I accepted it whole heartedly, sometimes life plays in extremely weird way and so long I had learned the biggest thing of my life, never be sad, never slow down because of your failures, never give up because of your failures, happiness truly is a state of mind. Even if I had not made it, if I had scored just 2 marks less or if interviewers had not asked me that fucking idiot question, I would have never made it to here. But still I would have not stopped, I would have continued…. Whom am I kidding, I would have been filled with frustration, anger, feeling of failure. I am far, far happy than I could imagine.\n\nI lighted up the cigarette and came to the big window of my 3 bedroom apartment I had rented on 34th floor. I could see the city, its sky touching towers, roads lighted up with street lights and headlights of vehicles, canopy of shops on sides, front building, some apartments whose windows were open, I could see the inside of their house, the furniture, kids, adults, all busy with their lives. I had heard about this city, this is special, not because of the city itself or any place or weather but because of BATMAN.\n\nI wondered, these must be roads where he must have beaten the crap out of any criminal. Kids love him, he is their hero, people dress up like him, they not just admire him and imitate him but they also love him. And yet he remains anonymous, who is his guy, where does he vanishes, where does he lives, his family, his love, kids, his desires, how can someone love his city so much, that he can go to extent of putting all his life and everything at stake every night, cleaning the city from criminals.. No not just criminals but Crime. Criminals fear him more than Police, he is everywhere if there is any possibility of crime and he is nowhere if you try to catch him.\n\nMy cigarette had almost finished, I stub it right when it is near the filter, I see people how they even puff until they have sneezed out the last tobacco out of it, but I really don’t feel any taste in those last puffs rather I feel like I am inhaling that burned tobacco and through the filter only heat goes to my lungs.\n\nI came back to my bed, and thought, doesn’t matters whether this city has BATMAN or anyone, I am just here to do my job and earn some good money in few years.. and then as I always had some deep plans which have always given me direction and inspiration to move, I still made some more plans to make my life more perfect, bigger, with more bank balance, marked some more places to visit. And this doesn’t stops when my fantasies go wild I dream of becoming the richest person on this earth, biggest philanthropist, if I write a book it should break all records, if I write a blog it should go viral, if I started a company it should become worldwide biggest company of finance, when I study economics all Nobel laureates should admire my views and it should revolutionize the whole finance of the world. I wanted everything, everything. I tried to sleep and again thought whats the use of all this I I cant even live with those with whom I can celebrate all these. I had already let her go, still couldn’t find courage to ever call her or talk to her, not a single night passes when I don’t think about her. But still life goes on second by second, day by day, you learn to move on, gradually you start taking pride on all your wounds that how bravely you fought and faced all hose hardships, embarassments, read self improvement books and feel proud when you are able to understand the depth of the pain. This was my life, I was always close to my goals but never achieved perfectly, always had almost all the things I wanted, but never that for which I aimed. \n\nAnyways I was cozy in my bed, and was more absorbed by the things around me. Very soon I fell asleep, deeply. Then I felt like something is disturbing, I was so deeply slept that I didn’t even wanted to know what was it but then it became louder, is it alarm ?? wait.. its that cool new tune I have set for my calls.\nI jumped up, wondering who could call me at this hour. Office ? No.. noway. I saw the number, obviously unknown, then I picked up the call and with very prepared tone, completely separating my sleepiness out of my voice I said “Hello..”\n\n“Hello Batman..” it was a woman’s voice, she was panicked, I panicked even more, did she said Batman ?\n\n“some criminals have intruded in my house. They broke the back door and are inside my house. I ran out of my home with my daughter. But please come here, its on 8th street, near St. Peter’s church, north block. Come soon Batman..” and she started crying. I was horrified, who is she, what was this call.. could this be a hoax but why me then ? Do people call Batman here on phone, like when they need to call the Police.\n\nAnd she hung up.\n\nI was left bewildered.\n", "Moving from a small town to Gotham City was quite the transition. My mother, bless her soul, insisted I get a landline telephone. 'What if there's an emergency and the cell towers go down? That place is riddled with crime, you know! I still don't understand why you would want to move to a place like that! There are talk of psychos and weirdos everywhere there! Didn't you hear what happened with those fear fumes? Drove half the city crazy...' She meant well, she really did, but I had my heart set on Gotham and nothing was going to stop me. \n\nThe first call came in well after dark during the first week I'd moved in. I had been out all day volunteering at a Harvey Dent campaign rallies around the city from the break of dawn until dusk and was completely exhausted. I had already slipped into my silky pjs and my cool, comfortable bed. I had just begun to doze off to sleep when the phone began to ring, the obnoxious noise jarring me from the briefest of slumbers. Knowing that calls this late were usually reserved for emergencies -- or that my family back home might have forgotten the time difference -- I was quick to get up and answer the phone. I didn't even have time to say 'hello' before the other person on the line began to speak. \n\n\"We need you at 345 Bleeker Avenue. There's a situation that we think might be related to Crane and--\" \n\n\"I'm sorry, Sir. I think you have the wrong number,\" I interrupted, knowing that if it were some sort of emergency, the man shouldn't be wasting his time with me. \n\n\"I'm very sorry, Miss,\" The man apologized hastily before hanging up. \n\nThe next time it happened, it was the next night -- a little later than before. I had worked all day at Wayne Enterprises, starting my new job there as a lower level secretary. I was already asleep and it took me a few moments to answer. \n\n\"Bruce? It's Rachel. I'm working the Maroni case and--\" \n\n\"I'm sorry, Miss, you've got the wrong number,\" I said with a yawn. \n\n\"I'm sorry if I woke you. Goodbye,\" The woman said. She sounded familiar, but being half asleep, I couldn't place her voice. \n\nThe random calls continued to plague me every night -- most about some urgent matter and some coming in several times a night. Some claimed to even be for the Batman himself. Those I thought were just prank calls -- they had to be. I didn't want to unplug my phone, however, for some irrational fear that the moment I did, my family back home would try to call and I wouldn't answer. So, I endured. After several weeks of this, it was finally starting to take it's toll. I was caught dozing off at work just as the CEO was making an unscheduled stop in our offices. Mr. Wayne never usually visited our floor, I had been told, so this was a big deal for our department.\n\n\"I am so sorry, Mr. Wayne,\" My boss apologized after kicking my chair and jolting me awake at my desk.\n\nI knew I had to look like a disheveled mess as I sat up and looked around wild eyed. My gaze caught the billionaire's and I felt a blush creep onto my cheeks and my stomach twist in knots. I was so going to be fired. \n\n\"Have a late night, Miss...?\" \n\n\"Cameron. Julia Cameron,\" I managed to stammer out. I realized I hadn't quite answered his question and both the handsome billionaire and my boss -- were they both technically my boss? -- were still staring at me expectantly. \"I'm very very sorry, Mr. Wayne. I just moved to Gotham and I had a landline installed and I keep getting these really strange late night calls...\" I knew it was a flimsy excuse. \n\n\"Mr. Wayne, this employee is new and I assure you, we won't tolerate this kind of behavior--\"\n\nThe billionaire held up a hand. \"I'll handle this, Mr. Reese,\" He assured, dismissing the man with the wave of a hand. \"Miss Cameron, if you write down your telephone number, the company will pay to have it changed. No new employee should have to deal with that kind of mess,\" He assured with that charming grin of his. \n\nI was floored. I hastily wrote down my number and name and handed it to the Armani clad man. \"Thank you...\" \n\n\"You don't have to thank me,\" He said. His cell phone went off and he looked apologetic as he answered it. \"Rachel! Great to hear from you. Look, we're still on for lunch, right? Dorsia, right? Of course I got a reservation there... I'm Bruce Wayne,\" He said with a small laugh. \"Yes... See you soon.\" He hung up the phone and I stared at him a moment. \n\n\"Mr. Wayne?\" \n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"I couldn't help but overhear. Your friend's name was Rachel? I-- I think it'd be good if you spoke with her. She wanted to talk to you about the Maroni case,\" I mentioned, wondering if I'd made a mistake or not. \n\nThe smile faltered very briefly on his face like a crack had been exposed in a facade. \"I'll make sure that number gets changed as soon as possible,\" He promised before giving me a small nod. \"But I really need to be going now.\" The charming smile was back while he made his exit.\n\nTrue to his word, my number had been changed later that day. Out of curiosity later that night, I dialed my old number. It was answered almost immediately, but there was silence on the line. \"Thank you. Your secret's safe with me.\" I said. After a moment's pause, a gruff voice replied. \n\n\"You don't have to thank me.\" ", "\"hello batman here, serious bank robbery? Many injured? Uh huh, well have fun with that\" Chuck leant over and yanked the phone cord from the wall, vowing only to plug it in next time he ordered Chinese food.\r\rIt was about three in the morning when Chuck's window blew in and he was rudely from a REM sleep dream about flying Enya like a kite. He blinked his eyed and tried to make sense of the pain through his body and the man shouting at him loudly, Chuck was a very deep sleeper.\r\r\"how did you do it!\" yelled the man.\r\r\"how did i do what?\" grumbled chuck, more offended at being woken than being held against a wall.\r\r\"you've been impersonating me all day and people. Have. Died.\" Batman punctuated the last three words by slamming Chuck against the wall repeatedly.\r\r\"i haven't done shit, i just moved in and some asshole keeps crank calling me about murdering psychopaths\" Chucks feet swiftly met the ground as batman dropped him.\r\r\"what? You didn't deliberately jack into my phone line to sew discontent and mistrust?\" \r\rChuck pointed at the phone line\"if i played around with that kinda stuff the building super would kick my ass, I'm not even allowed to smoke in here and I'm pretty sure this is America\". Batman investigated the phone, the line and jack in the wall and then walked to the window straightening his cape \"well then, seems like a simple accident and bad luck sorry about that I'll have someone come by and fix that window and clean this place up\" he dropped out the window sill and into the night.\r\rIt was hard falling asleep, the wind howled across the exposed window and it was freezing but eventually Chuck fell asleep and dreamed bizarre REM sleep dreams about eating a delicious overcoat.", "The first time it happened it was exciting. Confusing, but exciting. The exact details elude you, but you remember it went something like this: \nThe phone rang. It was late. You’re not sure how late; you hadn’t set your alarm clock yet. You weren’t even sure you had connected a phone. Must have been left by the previous tenants. You stumbled over in the dark and picked up the phone, “Hello?” you manage. \nA shrill voice screamed at you from the receiver, “Were you asleep? There’s a robbery going on at Gotham United on Broadway! We need you! Get here now!” \n“What?” your voice was still slurred with sleep, but you could feel the adrenaline kicking in despite your confusion. \n“Did you hear that? They’re killing the other guards! Why are you still on the phone?!” You remember hearing faint screams in the background but they’re so faint that you can’t be sure if you’re just imagining them. \n“Huh?” \nTheir tone gets more serious, more rapid, more imperative. “Batman, get the hell down here!” \nYou’re not sure how to respond to this. You look down and note that you happen to be wearing your brand new Batman boxers. You had them custom made. You unhelpfully say something along the lines of: “I’m just wearing Batman underwear.” Despite your unhelpful responses, your mind and heart have begun to race. You cycle through thoughts that range from the ridiculous (‘am I Batman?’) to the pragmatic (‘this must be a prank’) to the absurd (‘I should get down there’). Your hands start to sweat. \n“What? WHAT!? Are you drunk? They’re drilling into the safe, oh my god ohmygod OH-“ the line went dead. \nThis convinces you it was a prank. There’s no way anyone could have drilled into that vault that quickly. You had seen it as a child. The steel was nearly a yard thick. \nReassured, you poured yourself a cup of water and went back to sleep. \nYou slept like a baby that night. You remember that clearly. It would be the last time you would for some time. Waking up, you felt refreshed. Your custom Batman tailored underwear had been a quality investment; you felt supported yet free sleeping in only your boxers. \nYou went about the rest of your morning routine. You walked out the door and walked down the street on your way to the bagel shop, but the morning headline stops you dead in your tracks. “6 Killed in Robbery of Gotham United.” You feel an icy dread creep down your spine and remember thinking ‘the last thing that man heard was me talking about my boxers. My god.’ You run through everything you could have done. In the end, you rationalize that you were blameless- everything happened so quickly. ‘There’s no way Batman, even if he had received the call, could have been there to stop the robbery. Right? \n‘And why did I tell him about my boxers?’ \nYou file the thoughts away and go about your day. But the doubt started to eat at you. \nThe next few days blur together. You don’t sleep much. Dark bags form around your eyes. Every time your phone rings you jump. A week goes by before it happens again. This time you are awake. The lights are on. It is 4:09 AM. The phone rings; you run to pick it up. You have a plan. Admittedly, it’s not a great one, but you think it will prevent you from telling people about your boxers in what may be their final seconds on earth. \n“This is Joe.” Your voice is calm and collected. \n“This isn’t Batman?” The voice on the other end is clearly panicked. There’s a hint of confusion in their voice, which you attribute to the way you answer the phone. \n“No. This is Joe. This is not Batman.” \n“Can you find him? We need him now! Someone’s freeing the inmates at Arkham!” \n“I don’t know where he is. I’m definitely not wearing Batman boxers.” \n“What? WHAT? Why are you talking about underwear now? Oh my god ohmygod OH-“ the line goes dead again. \n‘That didn’t go so well.’ When it occurs to you that both of these calls ended the same way, you giggle momentarily. Then you remember that both of the men who have called you have died with the same words in their ears. You’re not sure to be sad that these people have died because of your incompetence or ashamed that even in times of crisis you cannot stop talking about your underwear. \nThe doubt grows. \nWeeks run by. You are sleeping dangerously little. You’ve lost weight. You’ve lost hair. You’ve developed a weird rash. Your boxers are still amazingly comfortable. \nYour performance, if you could call it that, in picking up the phone has also somehow deteriorated. Sometimes you even pick up the phone and yell “I’m wearing Batman boxers!” \nSimilarly, the city has been rapidly deteriorating. Batman has been slow to respond to crimes that normally he would have stopped cold. No one is sure why. If you had been capable of rational discourse, you would have been able to piece it together. But all you can think about now are your underwear. \nYou haven’t changed them in weeks. Somehow you can’t smell them. They are amazing boxers. \nOne night, after weeks of not sleeping, you make a fateful decision. You wait by the phone. You are ready. It rings. Quickly, you remove your boxers and light them on fire. Somehow they burn clean and brightly orange. Their smell would remind you of incense, were you capable of any kind of sensory recollection. \nThus freed from encumbrance, you answer the phone: “I’m naked!” and suddenly, gripped by a fleeting moment of clarity, you are certain that you have made the worst decision of your life.\n", "Jason arrived back at his apartment after his first day of work at the grocery store. He was dead tired, and all he wanted was to sit in his recliner, crack open a cold beverage, and watch his Blackhawks take on the Red Wings. He made it 2/3 of the way through his quest before the phone rang.\n\n\"Hello?\" Jason slurred, unenthused.\n\n\"It's Jim. We need you down at the station. It's important. He's back.\"\n\n\"Who is this?\"\n\n\"This is not the time for jokes, Bruce.\"\n\n\"Who's Bruce? Who is this?\" Jason asked again.\n\n\"Look, I don't know what's up with you today, but we need you here immedi-\"\n\nWith that, the phone went dead.\n\n\"Well, that was weird.\" Jason thought.\n\nHe grabbed the remote and flipped the television over to the game. As soon as he settled in the phone rang again.\n\n\"Hello?\" he grunted.\n\n\"Look, you gotta help us, man, I'm at Freddie's Deli on Guerrero St. and OH SHIT!\" exclaimed the man on the other end of the line, as an explosion could be heard in the background, followed by a faint, maniacal cackling.\n\n\"What the hell?\" asked Jason. \"Is this some kind of joke?\"\n\n\"NO, NO, WE NEED YOU! You're our only hope, he's tagged the responding cops already and the rest refuse to try and stop him! Please save us!\"\n\n\"Look, buddy, I don't know who you think this is but I don't have the time nor the energy for your stupid prank. Have a nice life.\" Jason snarled as he put the phone back on the receiver.\n\nPatrick Kane managed to steal the puck from Henrik Zetterberg and had crossed it up the ice to an open Jonathan Toews. Surely the Blackhawks would score here. Jason was on the edge of his seat.\n\nThe blasted phone rang again.\n\n\"Hello?!\" Jason huffed.\n\n\"... My, my, aren't we feeling a bit touchy today, eh, Bats?\"\n\n\"Buddy, you have no idea. Who is this?\"\n\n\"Oooh, I'm your buddy? I always knew you cared about me, you big softie.\"\n\n\"Ok, one more time, WHO. IS. THIS?\" Jason said through gritted teeth, feeling more exasperated with every syllable.\n\n\"Your banter is seriously lacking today, Bats. Here, let me show you how it's done. Now, this may come off as cheesy, but I've gotten tired of loafing around down at Arkham, so I broke free. I'm hamming it up here at Freddie's Deli, and these turkeys just can't mustard the courage to stand up to me. Lettuce be real, Bats, it's just sodapressing that noone can meat my expectations for a fair fight like you. So you better get your rump roast down here, before I start slicing my way through these deli patrons. There, did that get your creative juices flowing?\"\n\n\"Jesus, man, what is it with you people? All I wanted was to sit back, enjoy my game, drink a cold one, and relax after a long couple of days. And today, you jokers all decide that you need to prank call me? Fuck off.\"\n\n\"Well, I've never been so offended, Bats. How could you suggest that there is any more than one of ME? I'm an original, darling, you know that. But have it your way. I'll just have to continue the fun without you. We absolutely MUST stop for lunch some time and... ketchup.\" \n\n-CLICK-\n\nFinally, Jason thought. His next move was to disconnect the phone. He took a sip of his now room temperature Miller Lite and sunk back into the game. Toews pulled back on his stick and lined up a perfect slap shot, and as soon as the puck took to the air, headed for the back of the net...\n\n\"We interrupt this hockey game for a breaking news bulletin!\"\n\n\"For fucks sake\" muttered Jason. \n\n\"Our top story tonight, The Joker has made his triumphant return to Gotham's streets tonight, wreaking havoc at the town favorite \"Freddie's Deli\". He gave severe lacerations to the faces of 7 unfortunate patrons and made off with the safe located in the back with the weeks earnings, estimated at $50,000. Batman was nowhere to be seen. Police Commissioner Gordon was unavailable for comment on the Joker's reappearance or Batman's neglect.\"\n\nJason sat in his recliner, mouth agape. He couldn't believe his eyes.\n\nThe channel cut back to his hockey game.\n\n\"-ST UNBELIEVABLE FINISH TO A HOCKEY GAME IN HISTORY! THE RED WINGS SCORE 3 IN THE FINAL 2 MINUTES TO WIN IN UNBELIEVABLE FASHION! I FEEL SORRY FOR ANYONE WHO MISSED THIS ONCE IN A LIFETIME GAME!!\"\n\n\"God damn it.\" ", "BBBRRRRRING. I excitedly picked up my phone with trembling hands. \"Could this be the cute girl from work?\" I wondered aloud.\n\n \"BATMAN WE NEED YOU. HARLEY QUINN ATTACKED A BANK TRUCK. ALL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE!\"\n\n\"Third time this fucking week\" I grumbled. \"Jim you got the wrong number AGAIN.\" \"GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, THAT'S THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK.\", screamed the comissioner. \n\nI slammed down the phone and stormed over to the train station. I boarded my train to Metropolis.\n\nHalfway through my ride, the girl of my dreams boarded the train. \"Hey Clark, how's it going\" I laughed \"Lois you wouldn't believe my day\"", "\"It's Josh, what's up?\"\n\n\"Batman? Your name is Josh?\"\n\nJosh frowned, \"No, you've got the wrong number.\"\n\n\"Oh, my apologies.\" \n\nThere was a click, then Josh followed it by hanging up his own phone. He walked back to his living room, sat back into his recliner, and continued to watch his show. The phone rang again, just as the commercial ended.\n\n\"Fuck,\" Josh huffed as he stood from his recliner. It was going to be another one of those nights. He was going to have to leave the phone off the hook again. \"Hello?\" he said into the phone.\n\n\"Batman, did you go to that throat specialist? You're sounding better already!\"\n\n\"No, fuck, this is not Batman. Jesus people. You would think that people in charge of having that damn number would have it on speed-dial maybe? Seriously!\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry, won't happen again.\" The phone clicked off. \n\nJosh placed the phone back down, only to have it immediately ring afterwards.\n\n\"Yes?\" Josh said angrily into the receiver.\n\n\"Batsy-boy! Guess who has got your number?\"\n\n\"This isn't Batman.\"\n\n\"Oh, why yes it is, see, I've bugged your line! HA HA HA hey Mr. J, I was the one who bugged the phone, don't take all the SHUT THE HELL UP HARLEY, now allow me to tell you, heh heh, how I managed to get the number-\n\n\"Look, you don't have the right number, this is not Batman-\n\n\"Oh why yes it is, see, I-\n\n\"No, it isn't the right number. Everyone has been calling this number, even the Commissioner, Batman's number must be a digit off or something.\"\n\nThere was silence on the other end of the line. Josh sighed, \"Hello?\"\n\n\"HARLEY?! DID YOU GET THE WRONG NUMBER? no Mr. J, I swear, it is the right number NO IT ISN'T HARLEY, THAT IS NOT BATMAN'S VOICE I HEAR ON THE OTHER END no sweety that has to be the right number I swear it DAMMIT HARLEY I GIVE YOU ONE LITTLE JOB TO DO AND I SWEAR-\"\n\nJosh held the phone away from his ear, wincing from the screaming coming from the other end. The yelling continued, followed by several loud smacks, the sound of what was probably a table breaking, a few bike-horn honks, more yelling, a laugh-track from what Josh recognized as the Seinfeld show, then some more yelling.\n\nHe slowly hung the phone up. It rang again almost immediately after." ]	13
i know this is mainly a place of fiction but true stories can be cool too.	[WP] tell us a true story.	[ "Every summer my family went to my Grandpa's cottage. It wasn't just my family either, there was usually six families that went up and spent a long weekend there. \nBoth my sisters and I play soccer, all of us up to the university level. So naturally we played soccer every summer. \nWell one summer I was having a shitty weekend. I can't remember what I was pissed off about, but going into the soccer game I was already in a bad mood. We get to next goal wins, and my sister almost has a breakaway, I'm the last person back. She beats me, but in desperation (and sheer vindictiveness) I swing my arm to bring her down. My elbow connects with her nose and next thing I know my sister is lying on the ground with a bloody, broken nose, and I've never felt more ashamed. \nI still haven't. I still regret that day.\n\ntldr; I did something I regretted while playing soccer", "In the midst of a horrible storm in the the American Mid-West I was gathering my few precious belongings to take to our basement. They were of course, toys. I was only about 7 years old. The wind shook our old house and upon looking outside I could see branches and all sorts of debris flying about.\n\nI was very scared. I had an odd fascination with weather in my younger years and knew exactly what was happening. All of the sudden, the wind stopped. The trees out front stood back up after the beating they had received and all was still. Foolishly, my father opened up the door and walked out onto our driveway, hail crunching under his feet. I saw him (through the window) train his vision on the sky above. There, about a hundred feet up was the blackest cloud I have ever seen and it was just rotating...silently rotating.\n\n\n\nIt touched down two blocks later and destroyed part of the high school. ", "Growing up as a kid I was always trying different sports and activities during my time outside of school. I played football, basketball, baseball, joined the wrestling team, did track and field, swam, fenced, danced, joined 4H as a horseback rider, and joined the marching and concert bands at school. I enjoyed most of them, but only because of the people who were there with me. Then I went to college. I wasn't on any teams or ensembles. I enjoyed myself, but something was still missing. About a month into the first semester my CA approached me and told me about an acting group that he was a part of and told me to come audition. I'd never done acting before so I decided to give it a try and ended up getting cast in a main role. \nI'll never forget the feeling of that first night onstage. When the lights came up and I walked on stage I felt so alive. I truly became my character and absolutely fell in love with being on stage. Since then I've kept going with that acting group and have begun to write and direct plays as well. So far 3 of my plays have been done and I have continued to be a part of every production we do. Acting is not the way I will make money, but I know that it is something I will continue to do in whatever capacity I can through out my life.", "The snow was falling heavily one winter evening. My dad and I trudged out to deal with the blizzard. Him in his Elmer Fudd cap and me in my Yankees beanie, we began to shovel.\n\n\"Make sure to watch out for cars\", my dad said,\"You can't hear them in the snow.\" \"OK Dad I will\"\n\nWe forged onward in the torrential snow. I began to drift off into my daydreams only to be awoken by my dad screaming.\n\n\"LOOK OUT\" I turned in time to see the headlights of the sedan pierce the darkness. I dove to my right, narrowly dodging the front bumper of the car.\n\nAs I lay in the thick white snow, I began to realize how close I was to ending up in the hospital. My dad ran over and made sure I was OK. \n", "Waking up was abrupt and jarring, like the defibrillator's third go had finally and triumphantly resuscitated me from the brink. And my body was displeased. My pupils dragged towards center as the rest fell away, letting me focus on the red light of the fan spinning above me. Its effectiveness was a savior and devil, as its airflow had bestowed an incredible dryness in my face as I slept. It was a fun night but a predictable one, as Danny's oil drum of Jager and our introduction to a Deschutes Brewery rep contributed to a destructive romp through a land of cigars and pain. I needed my shoes. My phone. My mind. I had to settle for two whilst wandering through the quiet, empty house. What time was it? It didn't matter. Hurdling over the dog gate mattered. Finding water mattered. I threw up my hand to shade my eyes, but there was no mercy as I stepped outside into the light.\n\nWhere the light burned my eyes, the warm temperatures loosened my tattered body as I hobbled towards my car. Slumping into my front seat, I slipped my sunglasses onto my head like I was dressing a mannequin. Expressions of numbness had me convinced I was drooling. Lifeless and hollow, I let out a sigh.\n\n\"Oh thank god these are here... Ok. Time to go. Where the hell is Danny?\" \n\nI have a nasty habit of talking to myself when my brain has been basting in alcohol like a cranial crockpot for 13 hours, but at least it reminds me I am awake. \n\nPulling out of the cul-de-sac, I began my trek home. I strangely felt the urge to go the speed limit. I truly must have been tired. With a glimmer of red, black, and white ahead of me, I instantly knew there was a problem. Road flares.\n\nThe cool part about police road flares is that you can see them from a mile away and they last forever. The problem with them is they are only used at 9am on a Saturday within a mile of where I party if there has been some form of major accident. But I could see that cars were let through to some extent, so it couldn't have been too bad. Could it?\n\nAs I passed the intersection, it was what I had feared. I could see a destroyed front end of an SUV and an unidentified sedan blocked by the police. They only close roads in both directions if there was a fatality. My heart sunk, but I needed to keep going. Where was Danny?\n\nThe rest of the drive was calm, but terrifying. It was 13 miles to get to my parking lot, and I couldn't find Danny's car. I don't recall searching. \n\nMy legs were lead and torturous as I dragged myself up the stairs to my third story apartment. Mind racing, I could barely wrap my head around what I saw. Or did I see it? People get in accidents all the time. I hoped for the best as I opened the door... \n\n\nEDIT formatting\n", "My great uncle has allot of children he doesn't know about in a certain area due to his promiscuous endeavours as a younger hot-headed man in an affluent area. Anyway, as a result of this - the following story is true. (I changed the names)\n\n2 men in a bar after a good night of drinking, one of them accidentally barges into the other. Both young, hot-headed young men, turn and exchange witty remarks until they are holding each other by the scruff of the neck ready to exchange blows. \n\nOne of them men's friends says \"Hey Ricey let him be, its time to go!\"\n\nThe two men both look to the friend and then at each other, dumbfound. \n\n\"You're Ricey too?!\"\n\n\"Yeah my last name is Rice\"\n\n\"Is your dad called Robert Rice?!\"\n\n\"...yes?\"\n\n\"Holyshit! Thats my dad's name too!?\" ", "Fourth of July, 1993. I was a sailor in the United States Navy on my way back from a deployment to the West Pacific. My ship was a repair tender, unarmed but for some small arms for anti-piracy, primarily. This necessitated that we have an escort ship, in this case, a destroyer. As we were almost directly between Hawaii and San Diego, for this night only, the rules were relaxed and we were allowed outside of the skin of the ship after dark. Our escort decided to give us a show by firing off some tracers and white phosporous rounds from the 5\" guns. \n\nThis night was special on more than one level. We were 2 days from home after being gone for six months. We were outside after midnight. And it was a full moon. \n\nI'm a lifelong athiest. Always have been. But that night I saw something that almost made be believe in a higher power. The moon came out from behind a cloud and I saw a rainbow at midnight. It was etheral, and pastel and beautiful. To this day, I consider it to be one of the most special moments of my life. " ]	7
	[WP] A Nord's last thoughts should be of home...	[ "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home...\n\nSo come on down to Snowy Birch Tops Resort, today!\n\nJust call 1-800-HiMom and reserve a select room in our amazing Ice Troll Hotel!\n\nAt our resort, we have the famous Ice Wraith Caverns, where thousands of retiring Nords pay pilgrimage to the world-renowned Ice Wraith icicle that sits directly at the heart of the cavern! But, beware... there have been new sightings of infamous Fire atronaches lurking in the caverns and slaughtering those of venture to deep...\nWARNING: Your death is not covered by your insurance agency or your receipt. Please do not consult us in the afterlife.\n\nNext to the Ice Wraith Caverns, there are our luxurious mammoth baths, fitted with mammoth tusks ripped fresh off of our infinite supply of baby mammoths that we keep in our...\n\nMoving on, experience never-before seen Stormcloak vs. Thalmor battles outside Dawnstar like never before! It's like they're actually happening in front of you! In real life! Like real arrows are actually nipping the side of your face as they wiz by you! It's so cool!\n\nSo, what are you waiting for? Come on down today!", "Arkor stalked in silence through the heavy wood, \nHe felt bitter winter wind through boots and hood.\n\nAs he came to the place, he retrieved his horn, \nBlew hard into the instrument, bellowing its mourn.\n\nAs he waited in the trees, the air soon cleared. \nFrom over the mountain, the great Wyrm appeared.\n\nThe sky was darkened by the dread beast’s wings, \nThis despicable terror; this slayer of kings.\n\nArkor raise his great axe, and made his pursuit, \nBut he saw the beast turn, and was faced with the brute.\n\nArkor steeled his soul, charged on to his doom \nSeeking for his ancestors a more restful tomb.\n\nThough Arkor’s mighty axe did it's deed well, \nThe Wyrm made it’s strike, and the brave Nord fell.\n\nHis blood soon pooled in snow with that of the beast, \nAnd with failing strength raised himself to face East.\n\nArkor lay there dying in those desolate snows alone \n“A Nord's last thoughts should be of home...”\n" ]	2
	[WP] You're staying in a fancy hotel. You wake up to a crowd gathered around your room. A ten year old girl belonging to another resident has gone missing. There's a single small, bloody handprint on the outside of your door.	[ "Several around me, I clutched away my head in deep thought. Pearl necklaces glanced at me, sewn on wool buttons accompanied. At times as these I knew not the way to explain that which I did not know. So, in protest of silence, my voice took up centre stage of the crackle-lipped fire that danced before us.\n\n\"Have you tried ringing her?\"\n\nTears unfolded out of the mother's eyes. I looked down once more. It was no use, providing reason for the unreasonable.\nWe shamefully sat screwed to the anxiously ebbing hotel lobby, in a curtaining silence.\n\n\"Perhaps ...\" said the French-man.\n\"Perhaps monsieur has not an idea w'here the, uh, the little girl is present?\". \n\nHe spoke with an annoying syncope which induced those around me into a sanctimonious shuffle, shadowing the simulacrum of English class. \n\n\"Her name is Annabel Lee\", said the father veritably, voraciously displaying irritation.\n\n\"Oh yes, my apologies\".\n\nI too shuffled in my seat, scratching my uncomfortable belt out of the sweat easel of my canvas pants and azure blue shirt.\nAt that intrados of silence, one that had lasted - save the interruptions - since all residents were gathered, the manager caught open the cold-shrunk door. He seemed to have expected more resistance from the frame and so tore farther into our company than I thought must've been intended. Of course, this was a matter of urgency.\nBreathlessly, the manager spoke slicing the room's ears with news of the child's whereabouts.\nI paused, calmer in thought than was appropriate for a man whose door had been printed with a missing girl's bloody digits.\nI breathed, the room so did too.\n\n\"So where is she Mister?\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"My daughter!\"\n\n\"Oh\"\n\n\"Well tell us!\", the father now shouting out a hoarse neigh of american dialect.\n\n\"It is simple Sir\"\n\nI looked not at the sullen figure who posed in steady lank. Instead, the darkness unfurled in a synaesthetic words as what came next evoked the gasps of proper ladies, gentlemen and the clutching daughters who resided below belts.\n\n\"Well...\", said a little chum by the side of his father's pinstripe. \n\nThe manager slipped out of pocket a handkerchief and the hotel's card, handing it to me. I smiled, warming further where the fire failed.\n\nOn it, blood.\n\n\"Where is my sister, answer immediately Mister or my father here will sue a sorry sum into your wife's blouse!\"\n\nI knew it well, that The Manager was no herald.\nThe Manager seemed to snap back from his tepid dream. The room grew a darker pale. A rung suspense chilled through the frail bones of their's.\n\n\"Why, Sir, your daughter-\"\n\n\"She is cut up cozily in a crate.\", I interjected glistening and handing the handkerchief back to the man stood before us.\n\n\"My apprentice, Edgar, wash the kitchen and burn the clothes\"\n\nWho was once the acting Manager, now played the part of a laughing madman lunging from room to hall to kitchen happily as an elf.\nWine spilled floors lost white, as a scream rung out from the catacombs of a mother's lost spirit. And then came blood at a run from the smile of my all-gnawing countenance. Annabel's salty serum.", "Waking up in a hotel room is never the most pleasant thing, I think. There's always that moment of confusion, realizing that the bed is stale and the air is either scorched or frigid. Now I was being woken by a small parade happening outside my door, apparently. I was jet lagged and sore and somewhere down the line half my luggage got lost, and I'd be damned if I didn't have a word with these idiots.\n\nThere turned out to be a lot of idiots outside my door. Probably the entire floor. Dozens of eyes stared at me when I stomped out in footie pajamas. Summoning all the sternness I had, I asked, \"What the hell?\"\n\nThat's when the shouting started. Over the general uproar, I managed to catch, \"Alice,\" \"killer,\" and, \"arrest.\" None of these sounded like friendly suggestions. A great deal of pointing was happening at my door, too, and some helpful bystander slammed it shut so I could see the small bloody hand print on it. Now someone had come up with a pair of disturbingly fuzzy handcuffs, and people were suggesting I be handcuffed to the door for some reason. I did what any reasonable person would do; I ran, bursting through surprised mob members and dashing down the hall.\n\nDidn't do much for my innocence, admittedly, but I'd rather not experience the joys of fuzzy handcuffs today. \n\nDown the stairs, into the lobby, making a quick turn before the collection of policemen and other mobbing guests caught me. Through a double door, into the kitchen preparing for breakfast, floundering through the yelping chefs and upending a few trays. By the end of it, I had landed in the events hall which was blessedly empty. I hid behind the curtains on stage before the police followed the squeals of distraught hotel staff into the hall. The curtains weren't even touched. \n\nWhen they left, I sneaked out a side door and went for the basement. Obvious hiding places had worked so far. Unfortunately I only made it down one hallway before a locked door stumped me. Overhead pipes hissed and clanged. \n\nOf all the ways to spend my first day on vacation, this was very low on the list. So someone went missing, and there's an odd red mark on my door. That does not mean I'm responsible for anything. I blamed mob mentality, slumped against the door, and accidentally fell asleep.\n\nAs I said, jet lag. It was probably midnight where I lived. \n\nThis time I was woken by soft crying, which I oddly found to be a much nicer method than a gathering mob. The locked door was cracked open, just a sliver, descending stairs into darkness. From below was the crying. I, having nothing better to do than be judged for my impulsive actions and possibly arrested, went to investigate. \n\nFrom the sounds of it, this was the boiler room. Clanging machinery and a constant whir. I tried the lights, but the bulb flickered once before dying. Instead I followed my ears until I was in the back, facing a corner between some massive metal object and the wall. The crier had gone silent, alerted by my bumbling attempts at blind navigation. \n\n\"It's all right,\" I whispered. After this would have come the, 'I've come to help,' or something. Instead I said, \"I'm harmless,\" because that seemed like a comforting thing to say. Gentleness had never been a strong suit in my family. \n\nA voice, raw and scratchy and very much a small girls, replied, \"You should go away.\"\n\n\"Alice?\" \n\nShe sniffed. \"He's going to come back soon. You shouldn't be here when he does. He might find you.\" A hiccup. \"He'll hurt you, then.\"\n\n\"No one's going to hurt you.\" I held out my hand, then remembered neither of us could see. \"Look, upstairs are a bunch of... nice people, who are all worried about you. How about we go up and see them?\" Hopefully then they'd forget about that hand print and running business. \n\nJudging by the soft scuffing of fabric on stone, she was crawling towards me. I kept my hand out, and hers crept clumsily into mine. It was heated, sticky, and she hissed at the pressure. Bloody hand prints. \n\nThe door behind us jangled and slammed open, then shut, like a gale had passed it. Alice whimpered and tried to pull me in the corner. \"He's back!\" she squeaked. \"Hurry!\" \n\nSomeone was stomping down the stairs, loud as crashing cars. Having no better ideas, for the third time that day I chose to hide in the worst possible spot. Alice kept pulling me until she was pressed in the wall, using my back as a shield. \n\nPounce on him, or wait? That decision came down to size. I could put a decent fight, but if a wrestler was coming down here then I'd vote for waiting. Content with this, I settled back and heard Alice whispering. Praying, as quietly as possible, to, \"Make the monster go away.\" \n\nHer blood was growing cold on my hand. A thousand horrible ideas of what had happened to this poor girl flashed in my mind. To hell with waiting, I wanted to hurt this guy.\n\nThen he stepped in front of us. I could tell, because in the darkness I saw two half moon, violet glowing eyes glance about. In their glow, I saw bits and pieces of the thing: hands longer than my arm, skeletal shoulders, talons on its feet. It stood there and looked and I was sure this was the moment I would die. All the fight left me, replaced by sick terror. Alice's hands were pulling knots into my pajamas. \n\nEventually it left, stomping away, slamming the door. I fell out of the corner, having the closest thing to an asthma attack I had ever felt, feeling tears in my eyes, shaking. Alice followed me, bundling into my arms, wailing silently.\n\nWe sat and wept and shook for a very long time. \n\nHand in hand we left the boiler room, emerging into blinding hotel lighting. Oil stained my pajamas and smears of blood were all over my arms. However bad I looked, Alice was worse. Both hands were bloody, her knees torn, her face ruined by all the crying a little girl could manage. \n\n\"You're wearing footies,\" Alice said. I looked down at my feet, then at hers.\n\n\"So are you.\"\n\nFor some reason we laughed ourselves silly. Then we cried a bit more, possibly from laughter. After failing to make ourselves presentable, I lead us out into the foyer still full of mobbing guests and police, all of whom immediately swarmed us. I was arrested and set free five separate times in an hour, as policemen tried to piece together the evidence and the story of a frightened girl. No one had seen the thing leave.\n\nBy the end of it all, they decided that Alice had gotten lost in the boiler room, and the bloody hand print was a weird coincidence, and I was a hero-but-not-really for finding her. I just sat quietly through it all. Home was sounding perfect right now. Lock all the doors, eat myself into an ice cream coma, and keep the lights on forever. \n\nAlice came to see me later, to hand me a teddy bear. \"He's Baba's brother,\" she told me solemnly. In her arms was another, more worn bear. \"Baba helps keep him away. I thought you might want Yama.\"\n\nI looked down at the bear, then at the girl. \"Try to stay safe?\"\n\nAlice's smile was thin and small. She turned and walked away, back to her room.\n\nYama is still with me, and I wear footie pajamas to bed every night. " ]	2
	[WP] The Dragonborn died to a wolf.	[ "Sharp teeth found warm flesh.\n\nThe prisoner tried to scream before his throat disappeared down the wolf's. He toppled to the floor, clawing desperately at the snarling mass of bristling fur as it shoved itself forward, scrabbling claws tearing off his chest and slipping in the oozing mound of guts. His hands went slack, and fell to the forest floor.\n\nThe woods smelled of sharp pine, and stank of death. The rest of the pack were coming - shadows inbetween looming trees, or the glimmer of eyes in the middle distance - but the victorious hunter continued to gorge himself, lapping blood and cracking bone. The two-legged were never much of a meal, after all, and the hunger writhed in his stomach -\n\n...then, suddenly, there was a light.\n\nIt snaked from the Dragonborn's corpse, like a rotting hand clawing out of its own grave, and loomed with terrible, destined purpose. The wolf watched it, ears flat against its head, and took a few steps back, wetting the grass with blood. The light writhed and twisted, ancient and terrible and powerful.\n\nThen it RUSHED forward, and hit the wolf, tearing through flesh and bone and settling itself right in the heart of the beast. The chants of a dead language rode the roar of the wind, and pumped through lupine ears. Strange symbols danced in its vision, and the sheer warmth of raw, unfettered knowledge pumped through his veins and rattled its bones.\n\nAnd then it was over. \n\nThe wolf looked at the body with wide, dark eyes, even as the rest of the pack bounded into view behind it. It could feel the force of a great wind, stirring in its panting chest and ready to burst forth with a single, well-timed bark. It could feel, at the edge of its mind, images it had never seen before - of great, proud lizards soaring through the sky and shouting down cities.\n\nOf prey.\n\nWell, Tamriel needed a Dragonborn. And destiny, if it had to, could afford to be flexible.\n", "Legends fortold his coming... The Dovahkiin was to bring peace to Skyrim and Tamriel as a whole. He was to be the greatest warrior ever to live. I saw him, you know. He bore dragon bones as armour and carried the Mace of Molag Bal, the weapon of the dadric lord himself. \nHe fought the dragon invasion of Skyrim by absorbing the souls of Dovahs after he slew them and collected their bones for his armour.\n\nTo trifle with the dragonborn meant certain death. He did not negotiate. He took no prisoners, for Talos's sake he slaughtered whole villages if the ale was not to his pleasing! But what were we going to do? Send a legion to kill him? No. He was to bring peace to us, and if that was his method than it surely must have been right. I was with him the day he fought Alduin at Sovngarde. I saw him kill the the World-Eater himself by merely breathing a few set of words. \n\nHe was an unstoppable force... The Dragonborn was a Bard with the voice of a Divine, a Fighter with fists of steel, a theif with the hands of lightning and silk, and a cold ruthless assasin. Whatever the best guildmaster could do, he could do better. You remember the old Emporer, Titus Mede II? He fell at the sword of the Dragonborn, for the Night-Mother told him to. I've seen her drive a man insane just by being present in a room, and yet she quivered at the mention of him.\n\nHow did the mightiest warrior ever to grace Skyrim fall? You ask how did the mythos of legend meet his end? The great Dovahkiin, son of dragons, died to a wolf.\n\nNo not a pack! A single wolf. I was with him when it happened. We were on a mission. We were to kill Vokun the Dragon Priest to obtain his mask, which was named after him. It meant \"Shadow\" in the language of the Dovah and allowed for one to become invisible. We were high in the mountains when he froze. I wasn't sure what happened, his skin didn't seem to change color and there were no signs of daedric possesion. I poked him with the tip of my sword to see if he would react, but nothing. This troubled me, as it would many people. Why would the most powerful warrior in existanse suddenly stop. I was puzzled, and so I walked off into the snowy landscape, keeping a close eye on him, seeing if he would follow after me. But no such luck. I turned around to go back when I saw a shadow shoot across the treeline. \n\n\"Wolves...\" I thought to myself. Realization dawned on me too late and I leapt at the rabid animal just as it tore across the soft brush at Skyrim's savior. I flew past it, my arms grasping at thing air and the wolf landed on the Dragonborn, knocking him over. Now this wolf wasn't like your average wolf. It was hulking with muscle. Less of a wild wolf and more of a Mage's experiment gone wrong. I pounced to my feet and that's when I saw it. The creature had deep red eyes and lacked fur on it's hind legs. It was far too big for a regular wolf, and as it was about to claim it's prize it stood on it's hind legs and belted a fearsome howl towards the full moon.\n\nMy thoughts flew apart. A Divine-damning werewolf. The Dovahkiin still wasn't moving and I noticed his mace had flew off to the side. The gods must have looked down on me that night as I moved with reflexes faster than any natural man. I leapt with all my might, mace raised precariously over my head, a massive distance towards the deadly incarnation. It wasn't silver but it would damn well do the trick. I hit the monstrosity's back and it feel aside the Warrior. It scrambled to get up and I rode it like I would ride my horse. Swinging the mace wildly I attemped to get a hit in on it but no such luck. The wolf was fast to dodge, even though it was blind to my actions. Finally it managed to throw me off and I landed ass first in the snow. The powder covered my fall and I charged once again, invigorated with adrenaline. Talos and Stendarr must have favoured me kindly because I didn't take a scratch as I warred with the beast. I slapped him up the jaw with the mace before unsheathing my blade, Mehrunes' Razor, from my belt and sinking it into the heart of the werewolf. It's eyes blinked, and turned from red to blue as it fell softly into the snow, transforming from that terrible form to that of an adolescent, could have been no more than fifteen years. I was overcome with the grief of seeing the child's body but quickly regained myself and went over to the Dovah. I put a hand over his chest and noticed his heart was still beating. I smiled and gave his stomach a few quick pushes.\n\nHe spluttered and coughed violently for a few seconds before looking up to me. \n\n\"Comrade, what happened? Why am I down? I remember walking in the forest, and then... nothing,\" He asked wearily.\n\n\"You blacked out, Sir. A werewolf attacked you but he is dead now,\" I replied, motioning over to the man-child.\n\nThe Dovah said nothing for a few moment than brought his hand down to his side and winced.\n\n\"Comrade...\" He started, then clutched at his chest.\n\nI went quickly to his side and tore off the ruined armour protecting it. It was dragon bone but a werewolf bite is incredibly strong. Below, the skin was punctured and fresh blood seeped from the incisions.\n\nThe mightiest warrior in Tamriel spluttered again, and this time blood came up.\n\n\"Is... is it fatal?\" He spoke weakly.\n\nI bowed my head, sweat mixing slightly with a sensation I had not felt in a long, long time. Tears.\n\n\"It is not fatal Sir, but you will contract Lycanthropy.\" \n\nI looked up at him, and he seemed strangely at peace. Although lycanthropy itself did not mean death, it did mean Exile, even for the greatest hero.\n\n\"Make it quick, I am ready for Arkay to take me to Sovengarde.\"\n\nWith tears dripping down onto the Dragonborn's breastplate, I brought the Razor up to his heart, and hesitated for a moment. I looked down on my friend in his final moments, and managed a weak grin that matched his.\n\n\"Goodbye Sir. It has been an honor.\"\n\nHe simply nodded in response, unable to talk. I plunged my dagger into his heart, killing him instantly and sending his immortal soul to Sovengarde.", "I watched it happen. The Dragonborn just stood there for hours, not moving from his spot. Even when the wolf started to attack him, the Dragonborn stood still. I was starting to think that the Dragonborn would never die when he finally fell. It was almost impressive to watch. To think that the same man once ate seven cheese wheels in the middle of battle.\n\nSource for reference: http://joyreactor.com/post/450339" ]	3
	[WP] "I guarantee you do not actually want to do this. On my life."	[ "\"Oh dear, what have you done?\" \n\"There seems to have been a slight...\" \n\"Shh, that was rhetorical, \nI don't care.\" \n\"You have to listen...\" \n\"Well, really I don't.\" \n\"But it was only a minor...\" \n\"I'm sure it was, \ndon't worry about it now.\" \n\"I guarantee you don't \nactually want to do this. \nOn my life.\" \n\"Your life isn't worth \nnearly as much as your death.\" \n\"There's still time to fix it!\" \n\"I know, why do you \nthink I am here.\" \n\"No! Please, I can \ndo it! Give me a chance, \nI beg you!\" \n\"Yes and so far \nit's been the best part \nof my day, but I really \nmust get to work. \nAny last-\" \nscreams of agony were \nfollowed by a limp body \n\"-words? \nJust my favorite song? \nThat was thoughtful.\"", "We were as brothers once. We had all done our fair share of work. Our blood and tears with the successes and failures had brought us together in the eventuality that would become one of the most renowned art schools in Europe.\n\n\nBut.\n\n\nClean hands does not mean that the paint is dry.\n\n\nWe were viewing the portfolio of moderately appropriate paintings. The candidate was up for review, having been already rejected, there was a cry for justice among the board. The appeal had been taken seriously, as the member who defended the master artwork beneath their eyes had been crafted with the skill of a genius.\n\n\n\"I for one, think that this person can only think himself a God among rats. And sewer rats for one. Only a person with a knife in each eye could appreciate this.\"\n\n\n\"You are too harsh. Take this one for example. The arches are consistent and the artistic flair-\"\n\n\n\"Is non-existent! It is merely a copy of the old church in old port.\"\n\n\n\"Can we really defend new art if we are hypocrites ourselves? We must admit that we too have committed this crime of imitation, only to enhance our reputations.\"\n\n\n\"This is true. However, I must stand with the board. This candidate shows no real potential in making himself noticeable. All in favour of rejection.\"\n\n\nHands rose. I did not.\n\n\n\"Gentlemen, I guarantee you do not actually want to do this. On my life.\"\n\n\nQuiet murmurs and nervous shuffling.\n\n\n\"I'm sorry, but the Board's decision is final.\"\n\n\nThe stamp of rejection had been stamped hard, and finally on the candidates application essay.\n\n\nAs the members began filing out of the board meeting room, I stayed, and hovered over the creamy piece of paper. The circle pattern, known to all who once thought they might make it into the Vienna School of Art knew this to be the bane of their miserable lives.\n\n\nI read the name.\n\n\nAdolf Hitler\n\n\nLord grant us mercy.", "\"I guarantee that you do not actually want to do this. On my life.\"\n\nThat's what he doesn't get, I do want this. I crave it, from the bottom of my heart to the top of my consciousness. I need this. The man looked terrified. I mean who wouldn't be scared of a man pointing a gun at your chest? Anger in my eyes, I know he could feel the weight of my determination, my broken soul. But his fear isn't what bothers me, it's that damn smile. A slight grin. He knows that even if I do go through with all of this and kill him, it won't bring my boy back. \n\n\"Are you going to do it or not?\" He snarls, his grin widening even more. \n\nI can't do it, I can't kill a man. This wasn't like pulling the trigger on a deer, this was so much more real. \n\n\"I knew a piece of shit like you couldn't be a real man. Just like Adam. He wanted so badly to be a part of my organization, even after weeks of scrubbing toilets, and getting the shit kicked out of him. How does it feel knowing that you raised a son so weak, so fragile, that he jumped off that bridge?\" \n\nWith tears in my eyes, I cocked the hammer back and shoved it into this piece of shit's chest. \n\n\"Wait! You know that if you do this, you will be kidnapped and tortured. They won't stop until they've cut you into tiny pieces!\"\n\n\"Thank you for making this so much easier for me.\" I quickly tap the trigger twice, and watch as his face falls into a permanent slumber. \n\nI look around, and immediately hear sirens. Around here, the mob enforces the law enforcement agencies.\n\nI collapse to the ground, sobbing. Putting the pistol in my mouth, I remember Adam. Showing him how to tie his shoes, teaching him how to throw a perfect spiral, taking him for his first driving lesson. Where did I go wrong? Where did we go wrong?\n\nI whisper to myself\n \"I guarantee that I actually want to do this. On my life......\" I pull the trigger, and I'm off to see Adam again. \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You have the ability to make your soul leave your body. Explain what you use this gift for and what rules you are bound by when your soul is floating around on its own.	[ "Kellie-Ann explodes into a coughing fit and her arms begin to thrash into her boyfriend, Connor. Although it happens frequently, he still wakes up and ensures that she’s okay. “Kellie? You alright?” he asks shaking her by the shoulders. “Yes! Yes, I’m fine!” she replies quickly breathing heavily. Connor turns on the light and pats her on the back. “Why do you have to do this?! Jesus Kellie-Ann! Do you want to lose your soul? Do you have a death wish?” he asks annoyed. He hated to yell at her but after his experiences, he hated anything to do with the other worlds. Kellie-Ann wheezed and he handed her an asthma inhaler. She was never diagnosed but whenever she was returning to her body after a long night, she’d experience breathing issues and coughing attacks that were eased by an inhaler. As her breathing settled, she hugged Connor; she couldn’t argue with his wishes but anyone who had her ability would know it was addicting. “It’s like flying, Connor.” Kellie-Ann says quietly. Connor looks at her understandingly and responds, “I know Kel. Don’t forget that I used to be able to too.” \n\nKellie-Ann sighs and nods. It was the reason they got together originally. A year before they met, Connor had lost control after using it too much to escape his miserable life and almost lost his soul in the middle of the night. His parents found him with blue lips and a rapidly dropping pulse. They called an ambulance and after a lengthy hospital stay, he underwent a few sessions of electro-shock therapy. After the sessions, Connor was unable to leave his body or even dream anymore. It was such a sudden change that Connor was desperate to talk to someone and found Kellie-Ann in an online chat. After talking for a few minutes, it was obvious to both of them that each other had legitimate experiences as well. Unlike Connor, who had the ability for as long as he could remember, Kellie-Ann began after a car accident where her best friend passed away. Kellie-Ann confided in Connor and he tried to explain as much as he could. \n\nKellie-Ann was initially terrified but Connor made her realize there were a few upsides. Whenever she was upset or angry, she’d leave her body for a while and experience an immediate calming sensation. Whenever she had to wait for doctor’s appointments or dentist’s appointments, she would leave her body and kill some of the time. If anyone called her name, she could usually hear it granted it was low and muffled and it would signal her to return. Through experimentation, Kellie-Ann discovered that if she was away from her body for more than two hours, it would be more difficult to get back. Connor always warned her to never try to take over anyone else’s body. He said that the moment she took over someone else, her body would become free and another soul floating in the air would be sucked into it. Although many souls were other gifted people, there were also demons in disguise as souls waiting for an opportunity. Kellie-Ann, now calm remembers something and taps Connor. \n\n“Connor, did you ever hear family members or friends when you were travelling?” Kellie-Ann asks. Connor turns to her attentively, “Yeah… That’s not good. I doubt that it’s really anyone you know, it’s most likely body snatchers trying to lure you in.” She nodded and flipped the television channel, “Connor, would I always know if I returned to the real world?” A flip switched in Connor’s mind and he muted the television. “Not if you leave for too long too often. Right now, you are in the real world. Notice that nothing is wonky, everyone has pupils in their eyes.” Kellie-Ann nodded paying attention to every word. “It’s inception!” she jokes raising the volume on the television. Connor laughs and puts his arm around her. As she snuggles him, he feels a tickle in his throat and coughs. His eyes sting and he instantly feels as if his soul was propelled into the air. He’s got it back! Now there was only one question left: Return to Kellie-Ann or head out on an adventure?\n", "Terrence lived every day in fear of his gift, his curse. Every Sunday, his grandmother dragged him to church, and the pastor spoke of the soul, the soul that carried on after death and let us sit at the right hand of God. But Terrence could let his soul wander, somehow. He would separate his soul, his consciousness, from his body. The first time he'd done, he thought for sure that he had died. He screamed, but his body was silent. He swam through the air and back into his body, and all was normal again. Suddenly, Terrence realized he could use this to his advantage, even though he feared death every time.\n\nHe quickly noticed that his body would do whatever he tasked it to do when he separated his soul, so he began to leave his body to do all the menial tasks: his chores, his homework, even basketball practice at times. His body would keep getting stronger, and keep improving his shooting stroke, while his soul could run free and be a fly on the wall of any conversation he wanted. While his physical form was doing pushups and cleaning dishes, his soul followed around the hot girls in his high school, not just getting to see them naked but more importantly what made them tick, what they liked, what they wanted. He did this for the popular guys in his school too, learning how to be the cool kid, learning how to not fail in social situations. He followed his mom around, trying to understand her alcoholism. He wanted her back, even if living with his grandmother was safer.\n\nHis soul allowed him to help others, and the more he learned about others and fixed their broken lives, the more he began to love his gift. His soul could not do anything directly, and he had to return to his body and run over to break up bad situations. But over time, he realized that even if his gift did come from the devil (as his grandmother would surely believe if he ever told her), he would use his gift to do the right thing. Of course, it definitely helped that he could help himself a little on the side.\n\nSo Terrence kept his gift quiet. There was nothing but trouble that could come from being so different. He began to see himself as a superhero, the Batman of his own world. Maybe no-one would ever know what he had done to help them, but maybe that was his redemption. If he had been gifted by the devil, he needed to redeem himself by using the power for good. And if he had been blessed by God, he needed to use his gifts for the right reason, lest they be taken away. He feared the day that his gift would be taken, and his body finally severed from his soul. But death came to all, he reassured himself, and he would walk to the gates of heaven with no fear. The good would outweigh the bad, surely, and his long-wandering soul would be allowed to rest. His soul may be his gift, and he would be sure to return it clean." ]	2
	[WP] An experimental mouse who wants to be free tries to convince its best friend to escape together.	[ "“I can’t believe you got caught too. I mean, for both of us to fall for the same damn trap—God Jeb! They must think we’re idiots.” Marvin looked out into the room filled with cages as his tiny fingers clasped the bars of their own cage. Jeb was hardly paying attention as he looked for a soft spot in the straw to rest on.\n \n“Oh shut up Marvin, I wasn’t about to leave you all alone in here.”\n\n“Yeah, yeah play the hero card. Look Jeb, we need to get out of here. I’ve got a bad feeling about this place. I can feel it in my whiskers.”\n\n“You always do this Marvin. We get in a fix and you blow it out of proportion. You remember the job we did with that old hag on Baker Street? She found us in her pie! You remember that?”\n\n“Yeah I remember but—“\n\n“Or how about our run in with Fritz behind that Café with the dumpster. That cat had it in for you, remember Marvin? You remember what you said? Do you remember what you always say?” Jeb looked right into Marvin’s beady eyes.\n\n“Yeah but this is different.” Marvin hissed.\n\n“You said we were gonna die. Did we die Marvin? No. That’s why I’m still here sucking water out of this weird metal tube. Dammit Marvin, if this isn’t luxury I don’t know what is.”\n\n“Look,” whispered Marvin, pacing along the front of the cage. “You need to hear me out. We really might die in this place.”\n\n“Everything’s going to be fine. We’re not going to die”\n\n“Oh yeah? Then why are all of the other cages empt—“\n\nJust then they heard a door open. Both of them stood up alert and looked out into the room with apprehension. Two men in white coats walked in carrying clipboards. They walked straight up to the cage holding Marvin and Ned and leaned in close to examine them.\n\n“Can you believe it? Caught him in exactly the same place,” one of the men said. “Probably brothers.\"\n\n“Don’t start making up stories for them. Soon you’ll start pleading for me to spare their lives because they have little mouse kids back at home.\"\n\n“You never know man. Let’s just get on with this huh?” Both of the men put on masks as Marvin and Jeb stood frozen in place with fear.\n\n“Uh-oh. Looks like my good boy Roger didn’t quite make it.” He opened one of the cages and pulled out the lifeless body of a thin, hairless mouse. \n\n“Seriously the name thing has got to stop. What’s it look like? Any skin lesions?”\n\n“Yeah, multiple skin lesions and it looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. Damn, I thought this one was going to pull through.” The man carried the mouse by the tail and gently lowered it into the trash near the door.\n\nJeb and Marvin stood transfixed in horror.\n\n“Oh shit Marvin, we’re going to die.”\n\n“Ok wait, stay calm.” Marvin began pacing again. “Remember your training.”\n\n“Training?” Jeb looked at him in disgust. “Is this some kind of a joke to you?”\n\nMarvin scurried up to Jeb and looked him square in his beady eyes. “Remember, when all else fails—“\n\nThe cage door swung open and two hands reached in and quickly grabbed the two mice before they could run.\n\n“BITE!” Jeb screamed and they both bit down hard enough to drew blood. \n\n“Ouch! Dammit get back here!” He dropped both of them and they shuffled across the floor in opposite directions. Jeb scurried to the end of the hall and scrambled up a stack of cages until he could easily jump through an open window. Just before he was about to jump he looked back for Marvin. \n\nHis stomach lurched as he watched Marvin squirming in the hands of one of the men. \n\n“Go!” Marvin squealed. “Just go you idiot!” \n\n“Marvin! I—“\n\n“I said GO!” \n\nJeb took one last look behind him and jumped through the window and onto the familiar streets. A surge of pain rushed through his whiskers and to the tip of his tail. Marvin was still in there and he was free. He had to go back. He would return and find a way to get his brother out of there. He had to. \n\nAfter all, Marvin had kids.\n", ">Research log, Jan 14th 2016: The experimental mice have begun communicating at a much higher level than the control group. They've formed groups and pairs according to criteria such as shared tastes or age, which isn't typical of normal mice. Some have even started using coordinated vocalizations that sound suspiciously like a rudimentary form of singing. We may be witnessing the birth of the first artist mice...\n\nScout and Roger were contently munching on seeds when Scott had his Big Idea. Escape from the cage, get out, see the world. Tall grass, ladymice, fields to frolic in, better food than those prepackaged seeds we get. He wanted to get Ben to go along. However, Scott was an artist mouse. And artists know that to get a message across, there's nothing better than art.\n\nScout cleared his throat and began.\n\nYou're Roger and I'm Scout \nYou're Roger and I'm Scout \nThis place is okay \nBut I want to get out \nLet's steal the back door keys \nAnd become escapees \nYou're Roger, you're Roger and I'm Scout, Scout, Scout, Scout, Scout Scout\n\nRoger looked at Scout with a disapproving eye and let out a single sentence: \"2 stars out of 5\". The he went back to munching contently on seeds.\n\n> Research log, Jan. 14th 2016, addendum: We may be witnessing the birth of the first music-critic mice as well...", "“Think about what I’m saying Rod, please! It won’t take years! I’ve already built a stockpile of tools, and hell, I could be out of this room in the next week, but I need you!”\n\nRod tensed, his red eyes narrowed as if in thought. He shook his head lightly and lowered his sneer. \n\n“I mean come on! Think of everything that could be outside! I’ve seen a bright light out of that window up there, and it’s made of warmth! WARMTH ROD. THE LIGHT MAKES HEAT. We won’t have to spend any more nights huddled together…. We’ve touched testicles before Rod. It was wrong. Warm… but still wrong.”\n\nRod sat up and sniffed the air. His gaze fell back to his cellmate.\n\n“I mean, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, but if we could go the rest of our lives without touching each other’s balls, I would be happier. AND THINK OF THE FOOD STUFF ROD. I bet you there are FAR less switches, buzzers, and bad things between us, and all the food stuffs out there! The mere possibility is enough to drive me mad in here!” \n\nRod no longer acknowledged Pink. There was nothing more to say. Pink cleared his through and puffed out his chest.\n\n“Alright then. I’m trying to give you a chance to come with me. To go to a new world, one where we can live free, feel the warm light, eat anything, and maybe meet WOMEN. You know, ones like us, except the opposite. Ones we make little Pinks and Rods with! DON’T YOU WANT TO BE A DAD ROD!?!” \n\nIt was too late. Rod was mindlessly running on the wheel.\n\n“Like Sisyphus… I am bound.”\n\nSqueak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. \n\nEdit: Formatting and Read-a-bility\n" ]	3
	[WP] A woman falls in love with the man IN her dreams.	[ "She had to have everything exactly as it was. She made sure that the lamp on her writing desk was dimly lit, and her books were shuffled around as she had left them last night. She jumped into bed and pulled out the same story she had been reading the night before, trying to find the exact line she had begun to read. Skimming, until finally she began to read aloud.\n\nAbout half an hour later she was walking in a forest looking at all the magnificent trees swaying back and forth slowly. One with a face turned down to look at her and boomed, \"Good night Abigail.\"\n\n\"Good night Chip! Actually wonderful night, I had the most amazing day,\" She ran gracefully towards him and hugged the tree, attempting to connect her arms around him. The swaying trees began to hum a low tune, and shook their heads. The leaves flew and danced all around Abigail, and she knew what the other trees were trying to announce to her. \"He's here.\"\n\nIn a far distance she saw a figure approaching her. He was what she imagined to be. \"Chip, I'll be right back, I'm going to tell him tonight.\"\n\n\"Goood lack!\" bellowed Chip, and he then joined the other trees in a mesmerizing dance, as Abigail ran, then jumped towards the distant figure.\n\nShe jumped, and slowly landed back on the dewy grass. On her last leap, she pounced towards the man, who was looking at her with admiration. He reached for her and the two had a passionate hug. \"Its so great to see you Abigail.\"\n\n\"I thought I'd never see you again,\" she dug her face in his chest, \"Now I can ask you for your name.\"\n\n\"I told you Abigail, you have to guess my name, you aren't going to have me until you guess correctly.\"\n\n\"I don't want to spoil the rest of the night with an incorrect guess,\" she looked him in the eye. She pondered for a moment and declared, \"Instead, let's spend the night together, only when I'm about to wake will I guess.\"\n\n\"Okay, that sounds like a great plan. Wouldn't have it any other way,\" he caressed her cheek and then brushed her hair over her ear.\n\nAbigail then turned around to see that the trees were no longer behind her, but instead a large plain of clouds. She walked forward and saw that mysterious creatures were flying all around them. One of them appeared to be a majestic lion with the wings of an eagle. It was play chasing a herd of winged pigs. She giggled as the man wrapped his arms around her from behind. The night was spent observing these creatures, and later joining them in flight and seeing the rest of the world her mind had created.\n\nThey ended their adventure on a beach sitting on a smooth rock. They were watching the sunset, her head on his shoulder.\n\n\"Is your name-\"\n\n\"Don't finish your sentence. Just a couple more minutes,\" He brushed her hair with his fingers. In the distance a swarm of birds were squawking. She waited the appointed time and then decided to speak again.\n\n\"I have to guess tonight.\" The squawking was getting louder, \"I want to say that your name is- ugh! What is that noise?\"\n\nThe man decided to silence her by kissing her. She was shocked, but then relaxed. A tear rolled down face as the squawking continued. Her eyes finally opened to be staring at the ceiling. She began to feel around with her right arm for the alarm clock and shut it off. With her left hand she brushed off the tears that had formed in her eyes.", "She has always had trouble falling asleep. Without the aid of some pill, she was unable to fall asleep until two or three in the morning most nights. Too much to think about, she had always assumed. And she believed this was certainly justified by the fact that she never woke up remembering this sweet dream world that everyone is so cheerfully on about. \n\nAs a child, she often attributed her frequent discontent with everything to her seeming inability to dream. It was a vicious and heartbreaking cycle to her; dreams seemed to act as an escape from the cruel world that she spent her nights and early morning hours dreading. She never wanted to admit that she had some deep seeded emotional problem. She spent some of her nighttimes convincing herself that she didn’t, in fact. You aren’t like that! You’ve got everything to live for! You have no reason to be upset about anything! \n\nWith years of botched self counseling, she had concluded that she was fine. All she needed was sleep. She’d tried every sleeping supplement she could get her hands on, but none of them truly satisfied her. Every week, it was a new and exciting bottle of some new and exciting pill. She concluded that her body built some sort of immunity to them and then she’d have to buy something new. And so she did. Eventually, she’d taken everything that the grocery stores and pharmacies had to offered except for a particularly shady looking bottle of something called Somplexus in an archaic drug store in a part of town that she was sure predated modern English. Having never heard of it and being somewhat wary of things she put into her body, she had ignored it for years. \n\nHaving successfully dived into incredibly soul crushing depths of desperation, she purchased the small black jar full of small green pills. The yellowing and peeling label offered no information aside from the seemingly pompous and likely Latin rooted name: Somplexus. The half hearted research she conducted turned up nothing—not even a definition of the name. Still, she was determined to try anything that could possibly work. \n\nShe spent her day waiting for night to fall. When the nearby church bells chimed eight, the sun had finally taken it upon itself to leave her alone in her suffering. Showered and fed, she set herself on the edge of her bed. The air was cool and unloving, but her white sheer nightgown soaked in sweat. Her shaky hand uncapped the little black jar and she nervously shook a single green pill into her open and forlorn palm. She threw the pill to the back of her throat and before she could even chase it down with the water she’d brought with her, she felt as if she was slipping away. \n\nThe sleep was the best she even experienced and the pill seemed to have provided her with the first dream she ever had. She awoke confused and inexplicably joyous. She could not recall a single detail of her dream, but she spent hours lying in her bed grinning. She found this feeling new. It was warm, it was caring, it was so simple! For the first time, she was joyous in the act of getting ready and beginning her day. The joy was short lived, however, for she soon found that her happiness was only retrievable through dreams. She suffered through each waking moment, only making it through with an excitement for each night. \n\nThe pills slowly drained from the little black jar. Each morning, she found that she was able to remember more and more from the night’s dream. By the time that there was only half of the little green pills left in the jar, she was able to vividly remember each dream in great detail, almost as if they were real life events. She stopped getting up in the morning and going to work each day. Instead, she spent her daylight hours dreamily replaying the events from her dreams in her head. Each one connected to the last, picking up where they left off like a book she put down to pick up later. The nights were what she lived for and the days were simply nightmares she had to endure to reach the happiness again. \n\nBy the time she’d downed two thirds of the little green pills, she had begun to keep a diary of her dreams. Her day life was too drab to document, but her night life was certainly something she’d want to remember for years to come, to look back on when she was old. \n\nAugust 10th, she wrote. On this night, I’ve met someone! Oh, we just spent hours talking. I’ve had my share of friends and lovers, and oh, I’ve fallen in “love” countless times, but this man is different. Every word he says is everything I’ve ever wanted to hear and to everything I say, he is attentive and caring. He is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. He’s like a deity! He’s so perfect I cannot even begin to describe him! Oh, everything I do is just a sorry attempt at passing the time until tonight when I can see him again! \n\nEach night, they fell more and more in love, and each day, she wrote everything she learned about him and everything they’d done. Following her daily diary entry, she primped her self and then proceeded to dreamily stare at the mirror until the sun left her to live her life in peace and she could take another little green pill. \n\nSeptember 3rd. I’ve finally given myself to him—in mind and in body. He makes me regret ever being with another man, but he assures me that it’s okay. Everything he does is done in love and I do the same for him. No one has ever cared so much about me and I never dreamed (ha!) that I could care so much about someone. Being away from him brings me nothing but pain, but I suppose that makes seeing him again after each long day even more meaningful.\n\nShe never noticed that the little green pills were slowly disappearing. She shook sole remaining pill free of the jar into her hand. She only noticed that it was the last upon setting the little black jar in its coveted space on her nightstand and not hearing the familiar and homey sound of pills against the glass. She had never considered that one day they would be gone. She gently pushed around the pill in her hand with a gentle finger and promised herself that she’d go to the drugstore tomorrow to get a new jar. She swallowed the pill and was swept away into her dreams and the arms of the man of her dreams. \n\nThey held each other in the cool moonlight and watched the stars grow more apparent in the sky above. She set her head on his chest and she could her his heart beat. Steady at first, but then becoming more and more irregular, until it was rapidly and randomly pounding, like water drops on glass. Suddenly, roaring thunder in the real world jerked her awake and she was reduced to desperate tears. \n\nShe sobbed into her pillow until she could hear the church bell outside chime nine, the time when the drugstore opened. As soon as the ninth ring echoed away, she threw on her coat and was out the door. The old drugstore at which the pills had originally been bought was all the way across town. The walk was stressful and uncomfortable. \n\nFinally, she came upon the drugstore. She rushed inside to the aisle where she knew the little black jar was. Right beside the other sleeping pills, oh she knew it was, she’d seen it a million times before she decided to buy it, but it wasn’t there. There was nothing implying it was sold out or discontinued. She ran to the old man at the counter in tears, barely able to stand and begged him to tell her where the Somplexus was, when it would be back, where else she could get it. The old man simply shook his head and told her he had never heard of such a supplement. She insisted it had been there, but he insisted there was no such item. \n\nShe walked in dismay, back to her dreary little flat. She collapsed on her bed and cried for hours. When the church bell chimed eight, she sat up. She walked to her bathroom, half sure of what she was doing. She opened up her medicine cabinet and was faced with shelves of abandoned bottles of sleeping pills, still half full. Yes, yes, maybe she’d recovered from the sleepless dreamless illness that had plagued her entire life. Maybe she was no longer immune to these pills. Maybe if she took them she could sleep, she could dream! She could be with the man she loved! The one that made living worth it! \n\nShe took each bottle down and cradled them like a fragile newborn. She looked down at the bottles with a dreamy smile on her face and walked over to her bed. She laid them all out in a neat little row and sat down next to them. One by one, she opened each bottle and spilled its contents onto her comforter. When they were all emptied, she carefully mixed all the bright colors and shapes into a pile and took a diversified handful into her grasp. She fit as many into her mouth as she could and swallowed. When she swallowed that bunch, she took another. With a smile on her face, she let her body gently fall onto her bed, smiled and closed her eyes. She was off to be with the man of her dreams. \n", "You'd think the worst part is worrying if he really exists. No. That's not so bad at all. At first its like having a new favorite show you binge watch. Only instead of staying up all night with your dimly lit laptop with HBO-Go already on your toolbar, it's going to sleep at night excited about what's to come. The scene where you meet him is always the same. He'll sit across from you in that stupid coffee shop and order the same drink. The waitresses change periodically and cycle back and forth, as if they have regular shifts or something. He's...well really what isn't he. He's smart, he's well read, he's always clean shaven, and he has a knack of having no idea at all how you're feeling until you explain it to him. I mean god damn, the guy can talk your ear off and completely miss any cue to include me in the conversation sometimes. But I love him. And that love comes from the fact that he can be a little blissfully obnoxious at times. I would ask him about the books he'd read and he'd mention authors I've never heard of before. He's always in a rush too, as if he has somewhere important to be after we're done talking. But he always stretches the time a little for me, which I love. \n\nNo, the worst part is hearing about his own dreams. And that no good bitch he's fallen love with in them. " ]	3
	[WP] Start with a morning cup of coffee. End with a suspenseful cliffhanger.	[ "I slid my appendages heavily across the ash grey floor. The hall was empty in the early morning, everyone was asleep, it was our day off. The blue interfaces and buttons flashed as I passed them, each lighting up with red text.\n\nZach K - inactive\n\nSarah M - inactive\n\nKino Q - inactive\n\nDaniel - inactive\n\nEvery little screen began blurring together in a continuous blue streak across the walls. The bleak silence perturbed me, usually people were moving around and suiting up. Only the hum of the ship comforted me. The smell of a premium roast caught my senses, someone was awake, and right as I neared the end of the hallway bright green letters caught my eye.\n\nKara - active\n\nI heard Kara in the kitchen shuffling around. The door opened with a hiss.\nWalking into the kitchen the orange lights cast a warm glow on her teal skin while she stirred a cup of coffee. Her deep purple eyes looked me from bottom to top as I entered. She smiled that cute toothy smile of hers and I myself smiled as best I could.\n\n\"Morning Kel\"\n\n\"Good morning,\" I replied.\n\n\"There's still some left if you want it.\" She gestured to the pot on the silver counter, fresh, and enticing.\n\n\"I'm gonna have to pass, caffeine never does me any good,\"\n\nHer lips pursed as she gazed at me, \"could you pass the sugar then?\"\n\nI looked at the little jar with the shiny cubes looking back at me. I motioned my hand and the jar slid ever so smoothly across the table.\nShe rolled her eyes at me while gingerly grabbing three cubes and plopping them in.\n\n\"Show off\"\n\n\"I'm too tired to use my arms\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah,\" she took a sip from the orange mug, watching me across the table.\n\n\"So are you going to have something or did you decide to come after me?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" I said rolling my eyes, \"how could I ever stay away from you.\" I lifted myself from the chair and drudged to the cabinet. A small jar was waiting as I opened it. Ignoring the small lights telling me what was in stock I swiped the the jar and with a swiftness others could describe as 'to fast for 5AM' I sat back down across from Kara. But before I could open the small jar a hologram appeared in front of us. \n\nGlowing light orange like the fixtures above a small man formed. No more than 8 inches he stood there in a turtleneck and jeans, his young face beaming with seriousness. \n\n\"Good morning Marik\"\n\n\"And to you both as well,\" Marik the AI relaxed his posture, \"I'm worried about something I observed.\"\n\n\"Marik can it wait till later I'm in the middle of something here,\" I groaned with the jar in hand.\n\n\"Oh shush you baby let him talk\"\n\nMarik nodded towards Kara before continuing, \"9 hours ago I observed 3 jumps into the system, I thought nothing of it but the ships have disappeared.\"\n\n\"Did you detect any jumps out of the system?\"\n\n\"No, I'm inclined to say that they are smugglers but the ship signatures seemed too large for that kind if job.\"\n\n\"And you thought this could wait?\"\n\n\"Well I informed Daniel but he said just to 'keep an eye on it' as he put it\"\n\nI buried my face in my hands, \"Marik tell more than one person next time please?\"\n\nKara perked up, her eyes narrowed, her breath quickened, \"shh I-I hear someone,\"\n\nAll three of us were suddenly aware of every little hum, tick, bubble and buzz. \n\n\"There are five of them, armed. They are walking down the hall, they don't know I see them. I suggest we speak in a whisper now.\"\n\n\"Well no shit Sherlock.\"\n\n\"Marik, send a silent alarm and alert to everyone else right now!\" I tiptoed to the drawer and grabbed a knife. Kara remained calm sitting at the end of the table facing the doorway. I moved swiftly next to the door knife in hand gripping it so tight my pale grey skin turned white. Marik evaporated leaving Kara and me waiting nervously. I heard the steps louder now, they were smart whoever they were, they mirrored each others steps making five become one. My breathing got faster and I could see Kara ducking behind the counter, gun in hand. Louder. The steps were mere inches from the door, my heart punching at my rib cage, legs shaking. I let the knife float slowly from my hands, more from the other drawers floated to join it. They all hovered before the door, waiting like soldiers at the bottom of a hill waiting for the enemy to crash down upon them. The steps stopped just when my heart did. Kara sat there watching the army of knives await my command.\nThe door jerked and began sliding open with a hiss.\n\n\n\n\nI've never done this so feel free to tear my this silly thing to shreds.", "Woke up same as every Monday. Showered up, toweled off, and opens the door, to the kitchenette/ living room of my 1 bedroom flat. I first realized a chill. I looked behind me only to hear a window crash, and see a dark figure jump out the window. I ran over to the window to look out, I live on the 16 level of my building, no one could survive that fall, but no one was there. I look at my door and it is looked with the chain still in place, just the way I left it last night. I reach for the pot of coffee, and pour myself a cup. I then realize that I hadn't brewed coffee yet this morning...", "I was casting outside pebbles with my feet, trudging parallel paths next to the river. On this day, was only determination. I had to find my mother's pearl necklace. My eyes scanned across mosaic tiles smoothed by currents, searching and stalking through the stalks of reeds that rose up between cracks in overlaid pathway. It seemed only an hour before my lattice traversed zig zags were successful. Walking by, closer and closer, I spotted them. Stuck, stretched and flowing in the water, slithering like a snake held by the tail with the handle of a twig. I had to get them. They swung, mockingly, rockingly closer and then father, oscillating in the undecided currents. I had to reach them. So I bent down, scraggly rips in my jeans formed. I looked upon my arm grappling at nothing save the sprouting droplets that dripped upwards in the air upon sharp turns over rocks. My arm would not grow. The pearls dangled wet so far away. And my hand, my hand, it reached out in yearning. I yearned for it, so close, a centimetre - less. My hand was about to close round the string of pearls. But, of course with my luck, the currents decided their fate and tore away the pearls. I yelped\n\n\"Oh dear god my mother's pearls!\"\n\nAnd ran, down the path, not caring for pebbles and their slippery moss. It was gaining on the end. The end of the river, where all water fell. \nI sprinted now, my legs on a streak of coming tire. My arms flailed behind me as the pearls flailed behind themselves. \n\n\"Oh shit. Oh shit, Oh shit.\" \n\nI saw them, they glittered derisively. About to jump into the water after them, another twig caught at the loop. My luck had returned. So I ferried wet clothes, though the cliff was near. It sprung out of the twig's grasp and, reader I hate life, went over the cliff. So I did what any sane person would do. ", "There are two types of people in this world: People who love the smell of coffee but hate the taste, and troglodytes who deserve to have their taste buds singed off with a blowtorch. I am the former. The bane of my existence greets me when I wake up and that delicious aroma gently rocks me awake. Much like cough medicine, I have to work myself up before downing the cup. Much unlike medicine, I can add things like milk, sugar, vodka if I'm feeling adventurous. \n\nA side note - Don't ever add milk, sugar, or vodka to medicine. It doesn't make it better. Trust me.\n\nIt's the day of my presentation at work. Going before the executive board is never fun. I take extra care when brushing my teeth. My hair is parted in a straight line on the right side of my head. I suppose it's a form of showing confidence. I don't know for sure.\n\nI don't always wear a three-piece suit to work, especially because I ride the subway, but today was no ordinary day. This presentation was sure to cement me my promotion. I check my watch, a groomsman gift to me. 7:15 AM. Two more stops and I'd be walking into the biggest meeting of my life.\n\nIn the board room, the easel is alreay set up. I place my oversized post-it pad on the base as a rumble begins in my gut. Was that milk good? I'm just nervous, it will pass.\n\nThe executives trickle into the room. I make small-talk with the big-wigs while we wait for everyone to show.\n\nThe last of them takes his seat, and I begin my presentation. The rumbling continues. A bead of sweat appears on my forehead. I can make it. Take some deep breaths and continue on. The rumbling grows into a quake that I'm sure the closest execs can hear. The pain is unbearable. My bowels, fueled by the caffeine, are raging. I'd better wrap this up.\n\nI'd made it. I finished the presentation. Everyone looks pleased. Then I do the unimaginable. \n\n\"Does anyone have any questions?\"\n\nWhy did I ask that? What the hell is wrong with me? I need to get to a toilet immediately.\n\nThe CEO turns from the door and asks about the math behind my figures. The math that took me three weeks to figure out. I don't have time to explain this to him. I ask if I can email it to him, it would be easier to explain the math using a spreadsheet, but he insists. He's ready to make the call this morning if I can prove to him that the math is correct. I ensure him it is. The quake is growing. I need to leave now. If I don't I'll be buying a new suit. I turn to leave the board room. I've got my opposite-mouth clinched tight, the pressure is building. I begin to waddle out of the room when suddenly...\n\n\"Oh, Cliff, before you go, I have someone I want you to meet. Mr. President, this is Cliff Hanger, Jani-Corp's newest VP of Janitorial Engineering.\"\n\nThe fucking President, Barack Obama, is standing in front of me, offering his hand.\n\n\"Son, it's great to see such a young person interested in Janitorial services. You're what make this country run. It's a pleasure to meet you.\" The President says, firmly gripping my hand as my bowels loosen.", "Drizzle.\n\nNo reason not to have your cup of coffee in the balcony. After finishing his last project and taken some time off (which you can do easily while you're self-employed) he had felt enormous lightness about everything. As if he had emptied and then filled himself with life all over.\n\nYesterday he had found himself walking to the shops and smiling like an idiot. He noticed he had that smile on right now as well, even though he had to drink his coffee black, which he hated. Forgetting small trivial things was the downside of contentment.\n\nSun started to show itself once he was finishing his coffee. He noted he had done so without feeling the need to read Reddit at the same time, watching the yard was enough. \"Such bad habits and so easily disposed\", he thought. \n\nHe put the cup down and and something caught his attention, from the corner of his eye. He looked upward, toward the centre of the city. Towering cylinder had parked itself on top of it, piercing clowds and dwarfing any other structure in view.\n\nThe aliens had arrived. Just as they had promised they would.", "I'm not much for coffee. I'm not the coffee type of guy. Can't stand it. Makes my head hurt. I am, however, the coffee with the cute girl from work after awkwardly asking her type of guy.\n\nI walk towards the shop, take a breath and push the door open. She sits at a corner booth. Brown hair, pretty face, perky... uh, attitude. Yeah, attitude let's go with that. She sees me as I walk through the door. I give her a nod, a smile and small salute. She smiles back. And Busted's 'Falling For You' plays in my head. Wait, no, that's on the shop's speakers. \n\nShe waved at me with her left hand. I notice a ring on her finger. \n\nDamn.", "Whenever it was his day off Rick would always wake up early and go to the small coffee shop on the corner. He hated sleeping his day off away. He sat at a table and sipped his coffee while observing the other people in the shop. The barista behind the counter was cute and his gaze kept traveling back to her. \n\nRick was checking out the barista's smile when when the door flew open and someone stormed to the counter, making it across the full length of the shop in a few steps. It was a man and it was clear to Rick almost instantly that he was not in a good mood. He pulled a phone out of his pocket and grabbed the barista by the front of her shirt. \n\n\"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, EMILEE?\" the man shouted, pushing the phone into the girls face. \"Jason? Again? You fucking bitch!\" the man started to shake her, and she started to sob, she didn't make any attempt to defend herself. \n\n\"Hey asshole!\" someone yelled from a table adjacent to Rick. \"Get your fucking hands off her.\"\n\nThe man let the girl go and turned to where the voice came from. \"Mind our own fucking business.\" he turned back to the girl, but the man next to Rick got up and rushed to the counter to help the girl. \n\nSuddenly Rick didn't want to people watch anymore. ", "It was cold and gray and Tuesday. Quentin pulled his robe tight, shivering as he shuffled down the frozen mahogany of his hallway. Eight creaks of the floorboards brought him to the granite countertop of his kitchen, where a pot of freshly brewed coffee stood alone and waiting. It took all of a minute for Quentin to grab the only mug from the cabinet, pour a cup and burn his tongue swallowing it in a single go. He checked the oven clock. 6 AM. He rubbed his temples vigorously, then slapped his face lightly. Then he collapsed. The mug shattered, sending shards of ceramic flying as Quentin convulsed and spasmed. It took all of 90 minutes for the poison to kill him, his wife to find his body splayed out on the kitchen floor and the police to arrive. The chief detective stood over the corpse with his morning coffee in hand, drinking slowly. He wondered if anyone would suspect it had been him.", "Such a beautiful morning. 6 a.m. The perfect time to wake up. The sun is just rising, the birds are starting to chirp. Open a window or two and you feel the cool, cool air flowing through.\n\nI went downstairs and went into the kitchen. It was still fairly dark, so my eyes had yet to adjust to the lack of light in the room, but I knew my way around, so it wasn't a problem. I got out my favorite mug. \"#1 Daddy\". My daughter got it for me for Father's Day this past month. She's so adorable. I bet she's upstairs sleeping so soundly right now.\n\nI poured myself a nice cup of coffee. Black. My wife always comments on the fact that I drink my coffee black. I don't like bitter, but something about an untouched cup of freshly made coffee can't be beat. It's bitter, yes, but so invigorating. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.\n\nI sit down with the paper and start reading. A bunch of news lately about the NBA Draft. I'm not fond of Basketball myself. I'm more of an NFL guy. I'm just waiting for the season to start. I take a sip of my coffee and let out a breath of satisfaction. I comment to myself saying, \"That's how you get up in the morning.\"\n\nI hear a cock. A gun, ready to fire. \n\nI put my newspaper down on the table. I look across from me.\n\nAll I see is the empty black hole of a gun barrel pointing at my face.", "Sugar is a bit like adventure. Sweet, but it'll start rotting things if you don't temper it. \n\nSafe to say, Nathan wasn't feeling very adventurous this morning. He picked up his coffee (no sugar) from the shop in the usual half-unconcious state he was in every morning, and as he walked down the street he hardly even noticed the small little details of the town that some enterprising writer would use in some sort of gorgeous prose. Such is monotony.\n\nHe fumbled with the newspaper in his left hand, trying to straighten it enough so he could read as he walked and sipped his coffee. Not the most responsible thing to do, but who was there to stop him? Not his father, certainly. His father had gotten mixed up with bad company, and disappeared when he was young, and that's the most he felt like remembering right now. The heat of the drink was so much more relaxing then the worries and sorrows of yesteryear. \n\nAhead on him, a man dropped his wallet. Almost subconsciously, Nathan tucked the newspaper under his arm and bent over to assist the man. He had been oh so immoral to put others in danger with his distracted walking, so hopefully this could even out his karma.\n\nKarma turned out to be a bitch.\n\nThere was a brief fumbling and suddenly he was in an alley, and the man had a large switchblade at his throat. Nathan would have gulped, but that would mean he needed to run the risk of getting his Adam's apple sliced like a fine cheese. Nathan, at the moment, was even less adventurous than before.\n\n\"I want you to stay quiet,\" the man hissed, \"understand? I don't want to kill you, because you're much more valuable alive.\"\n\nNathan raised his head a bit higher, trying his best to draw his face away from the blade. He enjoyed the pleasant company of his neck. \n\n\"I'll give you money,\" he whimpered, \"It's in my left back pocket.\"\n\n\"I'll have enough cash,\" the pedestrian turned scoundrel snapped, \"when your daddy dearest pays me back for what he did.\"\n", "The steam wrose ffrom the cup and I could smell the coffee’s alluring call. I realized the day ahead of e as I thought about what was to come. A long day, a few meetings. Meetings in qhich I had to endure the agonizing pain of the speakers. The small talk, the jargon. I hatedit all. I dreaded coming into work but I came in anyway knowing it was my income. I doidnt want to let down anyone I worked with so I tried my best. Most days were filled with anxieity. I had troupbles coping with the large amount of customers I had to interact with daily. I’ve learned to deal with them on a superficial level but in my mind I was also distraught. \nI woke up feeling tired most days. I tried to enter a more regular sleep schedule,. The kind that normal people utizlize. The kind that allowed a person to be a person. To function in normal life. \nI sat wondering what I as doing wrong and I quickly understood a few problems. I drankn too much =, I gave up on dreams and most of all I lacked self control.the self control no doubt had a major play in the fact that a drank to much. It’s definitiely a vicious circle. \n\nI try my best not to think about the morning but it’s late and I realize I am making no good progress towards the morning. In that I mean, I know I shouldn’t have drank toningt and I know I shouldn’t be drinking at all. I need to stop but it’s difficiult when thers around you are drinking. I feel myself slowly losing controls of my emotions as they drip back into apathy and a bit of sadness. I say a bit of sadness because the apathy controls other emotions to a large extent. A part of me rather the sadness tak control that ay I could prgroess to a better state of mind. Apathy kills the motivation that sadness might cure. \n\nI;ve taken drins from strong liquors and ingested a pill to quell my anxiety. These days I don’t know if I even have too much anxiety. It’s more a problem with no emotions. Apaty at its finiest. I find myself worrying too much abou the future. I fear the people I love look at me as a loser and more simply put a bum. A piece of shit only floating through the chance I’ve been given which is life. \n\nIt’s easy to think that I am young so I should have fun and not concern myself with too much but the problem is that at what point do I realize I neeed to take care of myself and become a better person. \n\nI do wonder what other people thnk of me. I find myself to be below average and it gets me rather sad at times. I think about who I could be and compare myself to the too much. Am I reall that bad? Or is it all in my head.I’ve had problems for a while knowing what Is actually true and at what point am I being a little insane. Surely Im not the only one that thinks this and because of that I cant imagine I am some kind of outcast or weird individual. I would like to think I am not. \n", "The coffee shop is packed this morning but my friend Adrian sees me from behind the counter and I get my sweet elixir as soon as I pay. The first sip is better than sex. Adrain's a damn fine man. My usual table is occupied so I sit outside facing the street. The cool morning air is refreshing after my usual night full of nightmares and loneliness. Shit, it's been two months and I'm still not used to sleeping alone. I read the paper to take my mind off her ...\n\nI hear a scraping and look up to see a beautiful woman in black. Her pale skin was a perfect contrast to her short black hair and deep red lipstick. My breath sticks in my throat. She removes her sunglasses to reveal an ocean of blue that I wouldn't mind drowning in. I wait for her to say what she has to say. These types always have a speech prepared to get guys like me to relax. To keep us from being suspicious. \n\n\"Beautiful morning isn't it?\"\n \n\"Sure\" \n\n\"My names Jane\" she lies\n\n\"John\" I lie right back\n\nWe both know the score and are just playing the part. No reason really. She has her job and I have mine. Right now mine is just to keep breathing which inhibits her from doing hers. So we are at an impasse. \n\n\"Langley?\" I ask, searching her eyes for the truth\n\nPause. I suppose I caught her off guard. Her eyes flickered just over my shoulder, an indication of a lie. I smile despite myself. I'm too good at this game. \n\n\"Yes\" she replies, a little too much confidence in her voice for my liking. \"They know what you have, and they want it. You do have it right?\" \n\nJust then I hear a crack come from the coffee shop. People are screaming and running out the doors. There is a break in the crowd just long enough for me to see Adrian slumped over the counter. Damn, he was a good man. When I look back across the table the woman is gone. I look around and see a glimpse of black go into the ally half a block away. I sprint towards her, my hand creeping to the gun hidden so well under my coat no one usually notices it until it's too late. I round the corner and am confronted with the barrel of a glock 19 pointed between my eyes. Death is but a moment away, but I have a plan. Bang " ]	12
	[WP] A woman tries to use a love potion on her crush, but accidentally gives it to her female best friend.	[ "Best friends means never needing an invitation to come over. Best friends means you can eat whatever food is in the fridge. \n\nI should have kept that in mind when I brought home the brownies. These were special brownies. No, not like that. I purchased these from a local witch shop. They were guaranteed to have the person who ate them fall in love with the person who had purchased them.\n\nI had gotten these commissioned so that I could give them to my next door neighbor. We've had a few encounters that led me to believe he might be interested. The way he would go get his mail shirtless right as I was about to get my mail. There had to be something there, right? Even if there wasn't, they do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.\n\nI meant to deliver them straight to him after I bought them, but he wasn't home at that time, so I put them in the fridge.\n\nI went to go shower, when I got out, I heard a knock on the door. I didn't go get it, since I was busy. If it was anyone important, they know to text me and I'll go get the door. It's probably a door to door salesman or some crap. I went on to do my make up while blasting \"Barbie Girl\" by Aqua. What can I say? Guilty pleasure.\n\nWhen I was done, I headed to my room to find a cute sun dress. I knew just the one. It was white with red flowers all over it, strapless. I looked good.\n\nI headed to the living room to get my shoes, I noticed another pair by the door. \"Sasha?\" I called out. \"Yea? came the reply from the kitchen. It sounded like she was chewing something. I gave Sasha a key to my house so she could feed my goldfish and water my plants long ago. I never asked for it back, because I trust this girl with my life.\n\n\"Oh hey! since you're here, I was wondering if I could get a second opinion on my outfit!\" I said while I was bent down, strapping on my heels. I heard her come into the living room just as I got up. \"What do you think?\" I did a little spin and struck a pose.\n\nShe was holding a glass of milk with one hand while she chewed on something thoughtfully. She took a swig of milk and swallowed whatever it was she was eating. \n\n\"You look absolutely beautiful.\" was her reply. She just stared at me, unblinking, for what seemed like an eternity... then I realized. \"Uhhh Sasha?\" I stepped towards her. \n\n\"Yea?\" she smiled at me. She had never smiled at me this way before...\n\n\"Did you eat the brownies I had in the fridge?\" I already knew the answer, but I had to hear it from her.\n\nShe smiled \"YEA, best brownies ever! Was there pot or something in there, because I feel so floaty. I feel like I'm on top of the world. I feel like my heart is pounding out of my chest, I feel like... I'm in love.\" She took a step closer to me.\n\nI put my hands on both sides of her face \"I made a huge mistake. Sasha! Those brownies, they didn't have weed, they had a love potion in them, it was meant for my neighbor, not for you\" \n\nShe smiled. \"You're so beautiful.\" I don't think she heard what I said.\n\n\"How many brownies did you eat?\" I asked as calmly as I could.\n\nShe smiled a goofy grin. \"Three. I saved some for you, cause I love you!\"\n\n3 out of 10 brownies. That's not too bad. I might be able to reverse this.\n\nI went to find my purse, I knew I had a business card somewhere. I called the witch shop.\n\n\"Hi, I just purchased some brownies from you and the wrong person ate them, what do I do?\"\nI heard laughter from the other end of the receiver.\n\"Do you actually believe that stuff works? Those are normal brownies. Didn't you read the disclaimer?\" \nI went to look at the wrapper. Sure enough there was an asterisk with a disclaimer.\n\nEnchanted brownies * No actual enchantment\n\n\n", "Darcie screamed until there was no air left in her lungs. She couldn't manage to work the knob, couldn't escape. Megan giggled, rising from Todd's corpse and allowing the warped remnants of the blood-caked candlestick to clatter upon the rug with a dull thud.\n\nShe was near to hyperventilating as Megan grew close, her teeth stained from the spot she'd sunk them into Todd's throat when he'd continued to struggle. Perhaps mercifully, her proximity finally eclipsed the ghastly vision of Todd's face, now little more than a concave bowl of gristle and teeth.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" Megan cooed as she cupped her forcibly between the legs. \"I'd never let him have you, not him or anyone else. Not ever, never ever, no.\" There was no singsong tone, nothing of madness or cracked sanity. There was simply Megan, Megan who loved her. Megan who'd killed for her." ]	2
	[WP] When you die, you go into a videogame-like 'spectator mode' and can watch your friends live from a fixed camera angle.	[ "“Good grief: Natalie thinks to herself. She overslept! She prepares herself for her job at the bank by taking a shower, getting her breakfast and coffee, and then driving through traffic to work. There was nothing unusual about today; just dealing with a bunch of customers, mainly people either getting a money order or begging for an extension on their loan. After work, she would drive back through the traffic, have dinner, watch her shows and go to bed.\n\n“Another day, another dollar”. Natalie thinks to herself the next morning. She again prepares for her job at the bank by taking a shower, getting her breakfast and coffee, and then driving through traffic to work. Today there seemed to be less traffic however. And not many customers seemed to go to her booth today. Days like that happen. So she shrugged her shoulders and finished her day, went home, ate dinner and went to bed.\n\n“Morning!” Natalie shouted to her neighbor as they rushed by. They didn’t respond. Not usually since they seemed to be in a hurry. Natalie was in a hurry herself to get to work. She slept past her alarm yet again. She rushed to work, barely clocking in. She didn’t greet anyone at work since she was quite embarrassed that she was late. There was a long line of customers; the day went by in a blur.\n\n“Ergh. Natalie awoke with a grown. For once, she woke up before her alarm, however she felt different. She didn’t feel very hungry. So she had her coffee and left for work. On the way to work, she had to pull over to let some cars pass by, but she still made it to work early. She greeted everyone and went about her day. For a Friday, there were very few customers, but Natalie was ready to enjoy her weekend.\n\n“Oops!” Natalie shouted. She had spilled her coffee all over herself. She was just beginning to enjoy her morning. She lived in the city, quite different from how she was raised. She lived alone, she need a fresh start and growing up in a small town. Her family wished her the best as she moved on with her life. She spent the day taking a stroll through the central park and embracing her new surroundings. She saw two friends nearby; she thought she’d sneak up on them as a friendly gesture. As she approached, she overheard them talking. “What a week it’s been…” said Sarah. “Yeah…said Kelly. They both seemed so sad, Natalie decided not to sneak up, and she walked up instead and said “Hey guys!” Kelly and Sarah quickly raised their heads, but not quite at her, maybe above her…or through her. They both looked at each other then ran off. Natalie tried to catch up but couldn’t. Natalie went home confused and exhausted. She skipped dinner and went to bed.\n\n“Visitors!” Exclaimed Natalie. She was expecting family to come over today, however, when she opened her door, all she saw all these people dressed in black. They came in without saying a word to her. She walked in her living room and saw pictures of her all around. There were pictures of her with her family and pets growing up, places she’s been to, and even her graduating picture. She looked around the room again and realized that the people in black were her family. She also noticed people with badges offering their condolences. Natalie then saw one last thing that finally put this strange week together for her.\n\n“Evan” That was the name of the man who killed her. It all happened so fast that she thought she forgot what happened, but it did happen. One day at work, a customer was enraged that he couldn’t get his loan, so he took a gun and killed her, only her and then killed himself. The bank closed off her booth because the blood stained it too badly, plus customers were hesitant to approach it. \n\n“Rest in Peace”. She read her gravestone aloud. But then she didn’t know what to do next. She just started her life in the city; she just got her job and new friends. Natalie then realized that every day she could be somewhere new, see new people, and explore new heights. This is her new life now. \n", "Fist time i write something like this so sorry if i suck :/\n\nThe day he had died had been a normal Monday like every other Monday for the last 23 years. He went to work at 6 in the morning, came home at around 6 p.m. had dinner with his family and sat on the couch for a few hours watching TV until he went to bed. The only thing different was that he never got up again. Well … at least not like you would thing. Rod had a heart attack that night and died. Just like that. He didn’t had the chance to say goodbye to his wife or his kids or anyone else. \nBut being dead wasn’t a bit like he thought it would be. Rod wasn’t a religious man. He had never been one. But he always believed in something like heaven. Some place everyone goes after he died. He had imagined meeting his dad who passed away when Rod was 6. He could barely remember his old man and so he secretly hoped to meet him one day and getting to know him. Meeting him at that place … but there was no such place. Rod was still on earth. He still could travel and see the things going on but he couldn’t interact with anyone or anything. No one could see or hear him. Rod was in what he called it: “spectator mode“.\nThe days after he died were really tuff for his family and also for him watching them suffer. First he stuck around watching them. He saw his friends and colleagues trying to console his wife and he saw his mother moving in and taking care of his 11 year old son David and his little brother Michael. Michael was only 5. Even younger than Rod was when his father passed away. He even saw his funeral. It had been really weird and surreal to see everyone bid farewell to him in this coffin even though he was standing right by their side. \nHe watched them for 5 days. Then he left. He couldn’t do it anymore. He wasn’t able to watch his wife Julia cry for hours in the bedroom upstairs while downstairs his sons were watching cartoons with his mother who was just capable of holding back her tears as long as the boys were around. After David and Michael fell asleep she would sit alone in the dark kitchen with no light on. Some nights she would sit there for hours and do nothing. Just thinking about stuff. Maybe about the time after his dad, her husband, died and left them two all by themselves. The times she struggled to make the money last until the next paycheck came. The times she had to be mother and father for Rod. The times she sat next to him helping him with his homework’s after hours of work as a maid. Seeing her like this made him wants to hug her and thank her. Thank her for everything she had done for him and still is doing. But she couldn’t feel his hug or hear his words. He regretted that he never told her. Now it was too late.\nAfter 5 days he left. At first he didn’t know where to go really. He just walked the streets and watched people. Sometimes when he saw someone he knew or someone who looked interesting to him he followed them. He would stalk them for a while. Sometimes for just a few minutes and sometimes for the whole day. He did that for quite a while but after weeks of just randomly following people around he started to ask himself what the point of all that was. Was he supposed to do this for the rest of his life? Just being a spectator? Not being able to do anything but watch and listen? He started to freak out. He yelled at people passing by. Trying to hit them. But no one reacted. \nWeeks passed and he didn’t know what to do about his situation. That was when he decided to travel the world. To visit places he never been to but always wanted to go. Places he saw on TV or in magazines. The first thing he went to was New York. He always dreamed of going to New York when he was still alive but couldn’t afford it. Now Rod was there, walking the streets like a tourist. For the first time since his death he actually forgot that he was dead. He even stood in line at the Museum of modern Art for about 10 minutes until he realized that he didn’t had to. The first time he laughed since he left his hometown. Next stop was Petra which he always wanted to visit since he watched Indiana Jones back in the days. \nHe traveled the world for a long time. He wasn’t sure how much time has passed by since his death but he assumed it would be about 4 or 5 years. He has been to every major city he could think of. He had been standing on top of the pyramids in Egypt and walked on the Great Wall of China. He saw it all… but still, deep deep down he knew which place he hadn’t gone to the last years: Home.\nHe was afraid. Afraid of what he would see if he went back home. All these years he had been traveling he always tried to avoid think about home. But in the end he knew that someday he had to go back and look at what changed in all those years.\nThe first place he went to was not the house he lived and died in but his grave. He stood in front of a gravestone with the caption “Roderick Morris 1966 – 2014”. The first thing he noticed about the grave was that someone took care of it. New flowers had been placed on the grave not too long ago and even the candle in the grave lantern was burning. A smile came to his face and he couldn’t hold back the tears. Now he couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to see his wife, his kids. He needed to know if they were all right. He went home, hoping they would still live there. And they did. It was dark outside but standing in the front garden he saw David through the window, sitting in the living room. He was 15 now, maybe 16 years old. Sitting next to him was a girl. She was about the same age and looked like a really nice girl, Rod thought. They were watching a movie but most of the time they looked at each other. He could fight it but smile. Rod entered the house he once lived in and went upstairs. As he stepped into the bedroom of his youngest son Michael, he was sleeping in his bed peacefully. Next to his bed was an old family photo. Rod remembered that it was made when they were visiting Julia’s brother Stu just a few months before he passed away. Rod leaned forward, gave his son a kiss and left the room. He stood in the floor, smiling and relieved to see that they were doing OK. He walked down the floor heading the door at end of it. Behind that door was his bedroom he used to share with his wife. Standing in front of the door now he waited for a second but then went in. Standing in the bedroom he saw Julia sleeping in their bed. And next to her a guy he has never seen before. He was holding her tight while sleeping and both of them had a smile on their face. Seeing this made Rod feel much better. He didn’t know this guy, but he had a feeling that he would take care of his wife and his two boys and would protect them if necessary. Knowing this felt like someone took the weights off his shoulder. \nRod knew that he was able of letting go now. But there was one last thing he had to do. \nRod was standing in a dark room now, a bed standing in front of him. Lying in that bed was the woman he admired so much. As he sat down next to her he took her hand and held it between his hands. If this was his last moment on earth, and Rod had a feeling that it was, he wanted to spend it right here next to his mom. His biggest regret was that he never took the time to tell her how much he loved her when he still had the chance. He stood up, knowing that he had to go now. Rod looked down at the old wrinkly face. It was the face of a woman who worked hard her whole life. With tears in his eyes he whispered “I love you, mom.” and was gone.\n", "The shrill hum of the machine alerts him to the current scene.\n\nThat's me. I'm dead. I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead. Fuck.\n\nHis wife is sobbing over his body. The doctor announces the time of death before leaving the room quietly, sparing one last solemn look towards the woman.\n\nHer sobbing eventually dies down to quiet whimpers. Her head doesn’t leave his stomach.\n\nI don’t want to watch this. I’m sorry, Laura. I was too young.\n\nHe remembers Laura trying to warn him, many months ago. He remembers arguing with her. She was just trying to help him. He let himself go. He let himself go, too early.\n\nShe was trying to help him and he blew her off, again and again.\n\nI should've listened to her.\n\nI don’t want to watch this. I don’t want to watch this. Just Laura and my corpse. Almost feels lonely. I have friends… God, when’s the last time I saw John?\n\nThey all grew up together, the three of them.\n\nJohn lived a state over--a long drive, but close enough to see him during the holidays.\n\n...I can't remember the last time I saw John.\n\nThey all clung to each other, because they were the only family they had.\n\nThe scene switches. Entrance to the hospital. A small man frantically rushes through the doors to the front desk.\n\nHe knew?\n\nWhen was the last time I spoke to him?\n\nI guess Laura called him. I don't want to watch this.\n\nThere really isn't anyone else, is there?\n\nAh, wait. Suzy. I wonder how she’s doing.\n\nSuzy, from 3rd grade. Now a grown woman, sleeping with her husband.\n\nHaha, someone got fat. We played with... Billy.\n\nBilly is on the shitter.\n\nBad timing, hah! I can do this forever.\n\nHe spends quite some time leaping through the lives of the people he knew. He had forgotten about John and Laura, again.\n\nAre they holding hands? What the fuck is going on? How long has it been?\n\nThey’re living together. She’s pregnant. A small child runs up to Laura and places his hand on her stomach, looking up at her.\n\n\"Can I see him yet?\"\n\n\"Soon, I promise. Do you know what I'm naming him?\"\n\nThe little boy shakes his head, his blond hair tumbling between his eyes. \n\n\"Roger.\"\n\nRoger... Roger...\n\nThe boy continues his blank stare, and she frowns slightly. Balancing herself on whatever she can grab onto, she kneels softly beside him.\n\n\"That was your daddy's name. Do you remember daddy?\"\n\nThat's my name. That's my name. My name is Roger. And that's my son.\n\nHe never thought to check on his own son. Brian. Brian. His son is Brian.\n\nHe forgot Brian, and Brian forgot him.\n\nI don’t feel like watching this.\n\nHe retreats to viewing the lives of his forgotten friends.\n\nAnd still, his mind wanders back to Laura, many years later.\n\nShe’s gone. Is she here? Can I see her?\n\nIs my wife here?\n\n“She isn’t your wife.”\n\nShe is my wife. I had her first. Who is this?\n\n“Didn’t you ever think to see your parents? They’ve been here the entire time. They were waiting for you to reach out to them.”\n\nMy parents?\n\n“Laura is waiting for John. John has been with her for most of her life. John will be joining her shortly.”\n\n“In this life, you have learned nothing.”\n\nI just want to see my wife.\n\n“You will have another chance.”\n\nTo see my wife?\n\n“To begin a new simulation.”\n\nThe shrill cry of a newborn infant echos down the hall of a hospital. A woman sobs happily.\n \n \n^(Shoutout to /u/Tempnaut for heavily editing this with me!)", "“Robert, don’t do this to me,” she said. Her face was in her hands. “Please, Robert. I can’t do this. Not now.”\n\nMy business partner—my best friend—squeezed my wife to his chest. I could tell it was a gesture familiar to them both.\n\n“I’m so sorry, Hannah,” he whispered. He whispered, but every word he spoke was like cannonfire. “I never thought…I never wanted it to happen like this. I feel like a monster.”\n\nThough my bedroom was quiet, and its occupants were speaking with low voices, not a word of mine seemed to provoke a reaction. And I had so many words for them: curses, questions, demands, appeals; I shouted and cried and spat faster than I could think, all without response.\n\n“Stop, Robert,” my wife mumbled into his shirt. “It’s over now. We can’t go on like this.”\n\n“I know, Hannah.” He stroked her hair down to her neck, over and over.\n\nThey sat quietly for a while. Each stroke of his hand stopped a little lower, and each breath of hers lasted a little longer. I clenched my fists and ground my teeth. If I could just touch them…\n\nIf I could just look away…\n\nAt last Robert’s hand reached her lower back, and he held it there. He’d been my best man, my roommate in college. He saw me cry once, after a breakup; he’d bought me drinks and listened to me all night. My wife pressed his other hand to her cheek.\n\n“Robert, please,” she sighed. “Please, Robert.”\n\nHe kissed her. “I know,” he said.\n\nHannah unbuttoned her blouse. Her fingers shook. I noticed the light patch of skin at the base of her ring finger as she fumbled at her chest. The sun hadn’t touched that patch for three years and four months, since a year and a half after we met at Georgetown. Not since the day Robert placed the ring in my hand, and I slipped it onto hers. Of course the mark hadn’t vanished yet. That bit of skin had only been bare for two days.\n\nThe sounds that came from my mouth lost all semblance of language. I bellowed like an animal, trying and failing to tear at my own flesh, but I could feel nothing. Robert lowered her onto her back, pressing down lightly on her bare shoulder. The hand that had been on her back was now undoing the zipper of his trousers.\n\nHis trousers were black. Her blouse—brand new, now rumpled on the carpet—was black. Both pairs of shoes at the base of our bed were black.\n\n“Hannah,” he said. He was trembling like a virgin.\n\nIf this wasn’t reality, I thought, then it must be hell.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Five random people from around the world suddenly and inexplicably appear in a room together.	[ "She raveled a light brown curl round and round her finger, staring out with her dark hazel eyes. \n\n\"Merci beaucoup, monsieur,\" she smiled sweetly, pulling back her extended hand and placing it gently back in her lap. \n\nThe gentleman who had just kissed her hand sat back down and took off his overcoat, which he placed on the spine of the steel chair. He was an older bachelor, at least, that's how he referred to himself who had lived alone for most of his life. He took long looks at everyone around the room, greeting them with stern almond eyes. \n\nThere was the French woman whom he had just had the pleasure of greeting so sweetly. She was young and foolish, from what he had seen of her, but, of course, looks can be deceiving. She wore a simple white dress that covered only half of her thighs and she would occasionally hide her eyes behind her broad straw sun hat that sat lopsided on her head. \n\nThe next face he met belonged to a young teenage boy, donning a black sweatshirt that was as black as his hair, which fell in front of his reddened eyes that neurotically glanced from side to side. He hadn't said a word since they had appeared there, but would occasionally rub his wrists with either hand. \n\nFor the next face, the bachelor had to shift his eyes down. A small child with red hair was crying softly in the seat in front of him, sucking his thumb with rhythmic intensity. \n\nThe last face was hidden behind a veil of darkness. She was wearing a black burka that gave nothing of her away apart from her watchful hazel eyes that scanned the room with a cautious curiosity. \n\nThen, as if a flash of light had gone off, the five strangers disappeared. With a loud crack five more people appeared, all different and all scared. No one had succeeded..... yet. \n", "I stumbled my way down the alley when I realized that I needed to relieve myself. I stood in front of the wall and was about to pee when my vision was blurred. Not really surprising when you were as drunk as I was, but it still made it hard to aim properly. The blurriness went away almost instantly, revealing an entirely new location to me.\n\nThe alley was long gone. I was in a large room, which was basically a large white box, and four other people were standing around looking just as confused as I was. They all looked at me, and I guess you could say I got caught with my pants down, so I hurried to pull them up, all the while trying to hold back the increasing need to use the bathroom.\n\n“What’s going on?” an old man in a corner of the room asked to no one in particular. The others mumbled along with him, but I stayed silent, trying to figure out whether someone had slipped me something. It was pretty trippy when a late 20 something guy, an old man, a young boy, a 40 something woman, and a teenage girl all showed up randomly in a room together.\n\n“Welcome toooooooo!” a voice boomed out from overhead. “PeepHiJinksssssssss! The futuristic game show where five strangers, who are seemingly unrelated to each other, are put in a room together for 24 hours.”\n\nShit, I thought to myself. I’d heard of this game show, and it didn’t usually end well.\n\n“If all five of you figure out why you were chosen, you each win $10,000,000. If you fail in this objective, then you get to duke it out in an epic bloodbath of a fight to be the sole survivor and winner of $1,000,000,000. You heard right! $1,000,000,000! Will you all work together and come out richer, or will you sabotage everyone and win your fortune through an epic bloodbath? Youuuuuuu decideeeeeeee!”\n\nMy mind started to race. I was too drunk to really pay attention to the instructions, so I didn’t understand that my life might be at stake. The other four people ignored me, figuring I was going to be rather useless anyways. I was trying to find a place to take a leak, but to my horror I was stuck in the room, a bathroom or even a hole nowhere in sight.\n\nI looked at the old man for a couple minutes, trying to distract myself, but I soon realized why he seemed familiar. He was my old teacher in grade school.\n\n“Hey Mr. Green,” I shouted. He turned around, surprised that I knew whom he was. The others did so as well, all in shock that I might actually be useful.\n\n“How do you know who I am?” Mr. Green asked.\n\n“You were my old teacher,” I slurred. “Come to think of it, that lady looks like someone who used to come by class when you taught. Wait,” I said, laughing slightly. “No way. Is that your wife?”\n\n“No,” he said. “That was my ex-wife, and she was much older and uglier than this woman.”\n\nI wanted to sit down in the corner, but I wasn’t sure I could hold it if I did. I watched as the mid-aged lady slapped Mr. Green across the face.\n\n“You were a jackass,” she said. “And you still are. Apparently the surgery I got with your alimony was worth the money after all.”\n\nAfter that, I stopped paying attention to their fight. At this point, I was acting like a little kid, my legs crossed as I danced back and forth. I had to get out of here before I wet myself. My mind went into a drunken craze and started analyzing the young boy and teenage girl. All of us were somehow related, but I couldn’t quite piece those two together.\n\nThen it hit me.\n\n“Mr. Green, are you retired?” I asked.\n\nHe stopped arguing with his ex to answer. “No, I teach Highschool.”\n\n“How old are you two?” I asked, looking over at the girl and boy.\n\n“8,” the boy said.\n\n“18,” the girl said.\n\n“Okay, hear me out guys,” I started. “Mr. Green over here has been having an affair with the teenage girl over there. God knows why she’s sleeping with him. The boy was hard to figure out, but then I realized I was focusing on you guys too much and not myself. He looks oddly familiar. I’m guessing he’s my son, as he looks an awful lot like my family as well as this girl I was hooking up with years ago. She disappeared one day; this might explain why. But we’re all supposed to be tied together, which tells me that the boy also knows the girl over here. I’ll go to guess she’s part of his mother’s family.”\n\nI stood there while they all stared back at me dumbfounded. I had a large grin on my face, until I realized how crazy what I said sounded.\n\n“Um…,” came the voice from overhead. “You guys win? Congratulations I guess.”\n\nThe walls came apart around us and a man in a tuxedo came walking up, a microphone in his hand. He had been the announcer the whole time. He grabbed my hand and held it up in the air.\n\n“Smile,” he told me. “This is the first time this hasn’t ended in a bloodbath. Most people would rather take their chances for more money, plus they weren’t smart enough to figure it out. In fact, our scientists calculated the odds that you guys would be able to solve this, especially the odds of one person solving it for everyone. Lets just say they concluded that it would take a man with an IQ and mind like Sherlock Holmes to solve such a puzzle. Wave to everyone man, you’re on PeepHiJinks!”\n\nI stared into the camera with one thought on my mind. Before I could ask, I felt it coming. I stood in front of the camera, the host quickly backing away from me, as I peed my pants on live national TV.\n\n-181" ]	2
	[WP] You awake from a long nap to find a crowd of familiar faces staring at you in shock and horror. You realize you are sitting inside of a casket in a funeral home.	[ "{Changed the premise a bit. Its the first time I've written something so don't be too harsh with the criticism.}\n\n\nWHAT THE HELL!!!\n\n“Is this some sort of a joke” I shouted. “What is this meant to be?”\n\nI expected to cause commotion but they just kept staring.\n\n“Worst birthday-party ever” I said as I lay back in the coffin.\n\nMy birthday comes on Halloween and every year they come up with a new prank.\n\n“You’ve gone over the top” I bellowed as I closed the lid on me.\n\nI guess I have to give them credit for such a cool surprise. I mean gran-gran even had a wheel chair and mum had white hair. I couldn’t see dad but he’s usually at work during the day. \n\nI rubbed my forehead in frustration, “What do I do now” I thought to myself. There were about 9 people around me. Emily was there too. Then it dawned on me Emily must’ve done their make-up for them. She’s good at that sort of thing; she made everyone into zombies last year.\n\nI banged the coffin’s wall and wriggled a bit, not sure if I should be thankful because I got such a party or be upset. I chose the first one, thinking teenage rebellion isn’t a good response to this sort of a deal.\n\nHow do I confront them? Do I say sorry? God! It’s so much easier if I just stay upset. At this point I could hear sobs, I felt a bit sorry for everyone. I opened the lid and sat up. I could see everyone was still in a state of shock. Mum was crying in the corner and the pastor had his mouth wide open.\n\n“Very funny guys” I said in a smug tone “Good performance but I know Emily did your make-up”\n\n“No” said Emily in a corroded voice.\n\n“Oh yeah? Why are we at a funeral… on my birthday… with me in a coffin… still alive?”\n\n“Son, you had passed away” Said the pastor in a croaky voice.\n\n“What year is it?” Shouted Emily\n\n“2014…” At this point I started doubting myself. My mum’s sobs got even worse\n\n“Its 2016 child, you have been in a coma for 2 years” Said the pastor.\n\n“NO!!” I realised dad was not there for me, he wasn’t present at MY funeral.\n\n“Where’s dad?” I said in an alarming tone.\n\n“He… He’s not with us” said gran-gran, turning away as she spoke those words. \n\nMy eyes widened. I didn’t know what to worry about the most. I was away from this world for 2 years. I was dead to everyone that I loved. My father passed away. I was about to be buried alive. This was too much for me.\n\nI felt light headed and collapsed inside the coffin.\n\nAs I started regaining consciousness, I could feel the world revolve around me. My eyes felt watery, all I could see was a blurry white light. There was music playing and people laughing. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Was this heaven? Was that my last good bye?\n\n“Hey! Here he comes”\n\nNot bad but I expected a better welcome in heaven.\n\n“Happy birthday” said the same voice. \n\nI could feel it come closer. It wrapped its hands around me. It called for everybody to come over.\n\n“Surprise” exclaimed everyone.\n\n“Miss me?” said the person. I rubbed my eyes, I could make out who it was. It was my dad.\n\nIt was a birthday prank after all.", "\"You lived?\"\n\nShe scraped the words over my heart. She had a way of doing that. The two men with her had the decency to look impressed. Ham and Jackson. They were alright if it wasn't you they were after. But Rox was never going to be alright. She slurped her Big Gulp and tapped the linoleum with a heel.\n\n\"Well, Daddy's gonna wanna seeya.\"\n\nI blinked. I nodded. I was pretty weak from dying and my throat felt too dry for speech. Too dry for what I had to say to Rox. The coffin was cozy white and soft and I could have gone right back to sleep but the place smelled like metal and ammonia.\n\n\"How'd you beat it?\" Ham looked a little scared. It's a funny look on a big guy like Ham.\n\nI shrugged. Jackson didn't say anything. He never took his eyes off me and his hand stayed pretty close to that six-shooter of his. Rox slurped.\n\n\"He beat it cause he special. You were always special, werncha.\"\n\nThat came with a heel tap. She also adjusted her skirt. You have to watch these things with Rox when Jackson isn't talking and his hand is by that six-shooter. What is it tonight, Rox? Slurp slurp tap?\n\nI swallowed. Rox wasn't a girl that appreciated shrugs. She dug honesty and fear though. I gave them to her with my eyes and my silence.\n\nTap. Tap-tap. Slurp.\n\n\"I kinda liked you dead. I guess a sister shouldn't say things like that.\" She laughed. A problem Rox always had with laughing is it makes her snort, and it pisses her off when she snorts. So she hates you if you're funny. Rox ain't a girl you want hating you. Anyway, she snorted then dared me to acknowledge it with the slits in her eyes. I've been here before though, and my face is a stone.\n\nTap-tap. Tap. Slurrrrrp.\n\n\"Say something.\" Ham was getting shifty. Nerves. He was superstitious for a big guy. \"Tell us how you beat it.\"\n\n\"He didn't beat it.\"\n\nTap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap.\n\n\"He real special though. Real special.\"\n\nWhen I looked at Jackson, it wasn't to beg. I knew Jackson. You don't get close to guys like Jackson but we understood one another. That's why I looked at him. A professional courtesy, a nod to tell him I understood everything and none of this was personal. He nodded back. If Rox ever saw him nod back he'd be as dead as me. That's the kind of guy Jackson is.\n\nI swallowed again. My throat was dry like razors. Death is a dry thing I guess.\n\n\"Rox,\" I said.\n\nTap-tap-tap.\n\n\"Rox, you don't have to be good, okay? Nobody's good. But try to get happy sometimes. We love you.\"\n\nTap-tap. Slurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp.\n\n ", "My head was pounding and my throat felt dry and raw. I opened my eyes slowly and then shut them again quickly, the light in the room seemed much to bright.\n\n\"Joseph,\" I heard someone whisper in a familiar voice. I opened my eyes and realized it was my mother. She stood next to my father, and they together stood amid a crowd of at least fifty. Everyone was wearing black. The room were were in had plain white walls with framed pictures of blue sky's and calm lakes. There were a number of chairs and a few tables, each one adorned with a tasteful vase holding equally tasteful flowers.\n\nI sat up, groaning aloud as I did so, holding my head momentarily in my hands. Slowly the aches and pains all over my body began to make themselves known. My back had a painful twinge in it, and my ass hurt like the dickens. I realized whatever I was sitting on was misshapen. My hands left my head and moved to my right side as I twisted to face the crowd. My fingers curled around a smooth wooden edge as I took in everyone. I recognized most in the crowd, seeing as they were family members of mine. Cousins, my sister, and of course my parents. my mother's eyes blazed with anger, my father's fat face was a crimson that only came from embarrassment.\n\nI ran my hand along the wood slowly as I realized I had been laying and was now sitting in a coffin. I struggled to stand, my feet sliding on a soft lump. I managed to climb out backwards, looking down at the body of my Uncle Morty as I did so. When I was standing with both feet on the ground I took Morty's lapels and tried to straighten them the best I could, but his whole outfit had become rather disheveled from my nap upon it. I didn't have time to be grossed out, having realized that I had just slept on a dead guy. Instead I turned to the crowd and shrugged, my lips curling upward with a smirk. \n\n\"We really shouldn't have had wine at a wake.\"" ]	3
	[WP] Someone lives a secret life away from their family. He/she is not a bad person.	[ "My hands were shaking. I was too nervous. \n\"This shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be doing this.\" I thought to myself. \n\nI saw him get off the train station and walk down the stairs. \"Could that really be him? Is he really that good-looking? And he's still interested? Hasn't he seen the photos?\" I shrugged it off, and walked across the street with a friendly wave. \n\n\"Hi, Ted, right?\"\n\n\"Yep, that's me.\" he answered, \"And you must be John, am I right?\"\n\n\"Mhm,\" I shook my head, knowing that there was no going back.\n\nThe whole walk there was nerve-wracking. I had never done this before, never even got close to it. I had class in an hour and a half. Would we have enough time even?\n\nWe show our IDs to the security guard and enter the college campus. \n\n\"I think we should go into this building, it's probably the emptiest,\" I manage to muster out of my own voice. \n\nHe can hear the wavering in my tone. \"It'll be alright. Don't worry,\" he coos. \n\nWe enter the bathroom stall, both of us glancing around, making sure there is nobody in sight. We lock the door behind us and I take a deep breath. He smiles at me and starts taking off his bag and jacket. I mirror his actions and there we stood. It took him thirty seconds to realize that I wasn't going to make the first move. He saw my hands trembling and took them in his. He pulled me close and I experienced my first kiss. \n\n-------------------------------------------------\n\nI look at my watch and realize I've got ten minutes to class. I run out of the stall, sweating and ashamed. \"What have I just done?\" I thought to myself, getting ready for class. \n\n\"We'll talk later, I guess?\" \n\n\"Of course, John, take care.\" He smiles at me. \n\nI race to class and just barely make it to my seat. \"Did you just run a marathon, John?\" Ken snickers. \n\n\"Shut up, man,\" I smile at him, \"I walked here, ok.\" \n\n\"Riiiiiight,\" he replies sarcastically.\n\nClass starts as normal.\n\n_______________\n\nI get back home exhausted, having nodded off on the train quite a few times before my stop. \n\"Hey mom.\" \n\"How was your day today?\" She asks. \"Did you study well for your exam?\" \n\n\"I did. It was pretty stressful, but I think I aced it.\" \n\n\"Good. I'm proud of you, honey.\" She smiles.\n_____\n\nI slink off to my room. She's never told me she's proud of me, let alone now. Is everything ok? I just don't understand it. But it doesn't matter anyway. She wouldn't be proud of me if she knew just how much of an abomination her son actually was. \n\"I'm sorry, Mom\" I sob, as I drift off to sleep. \"I'm sorry that I can't control myself and that I really can't help my urges. Today was the first, but I can't guarantee that it'd be the last...\" I drift off to sleep, my pillow just a little wet.\n_____\n\n*Let me know what you guys think about it. This is a throwaway because this is a modification of a true story. This is also my first time posting, so please go easy on me...* ", "Being a good person and being a bad person are not so different. People lack understanding of how close those two shades of gray are. There is a world they know nothing about, nothing at all, and they don't want to look into it because the second your eyes are forced open that wide you see more than you ever intended. You see just how easy it is for a good person to do terrible things for the right reasons and worse, you see how damned rewarding it can be.\n\nSeven thirty at night. My mother and father are at the dinner table. My sister, she sits there next to me on this side, playing on her cell phone. My little brother is at the end in his high chair and my mother is feeding him some kind of mashed mixture that looks vaguely like something a poor city worker would have to scrape off of the asshole of the sewer system - but he seems to like it, so what the hell do I know?\n\n\"How was your day, Alice?\"\n\nI look up from my plate. They give me so much food. I don't eat the way they eat most of the time, and this kind of heavy stuff makes me... uncomfortable. Even so, it is what they think is my favorite food, so I make a show of taking the last few bites before answering my father. \n\n\"It was good. Not a lot went on today over at the college. There was a fire, though, but it was minor,\" I tell him, lying without hesitation. A fire, a small fire.\n\nFlashes in my mind of the young woman who took it upon herself to learn pyromancy so she could take revenge on the professor who failed her and then wouldn't sleep with her to raise her grade. I'll never understand the fucked up kind of person it takes to decide that academic integrity deserves trial by fire. She needed anti-psychotics, or at the very least, a sedative. But my job is to do what needs to be done, and we didn't have a medic-gun near by, so I had to put her down before she killed anyone else.\n\nThe laws of the world I live in, the honor it is to serve them...\n\nAere perennius.\n\nMore lasting than bronze. \n\n\"Oh? What caused the fire?\" he asks, smiling. He smiles a lot. The dark skin of his cheeks has a lot of lines from it. His eyes, they smile along with him. I'm not good at smiles like they. They expose to much, make me feel too vulnerable.\n\n\"Oh, just some dumb kids screwing around in the chemistry lab,\" I answer.\n\nInsanity. Power. Self-centeredness.\n\nThose caused the fire.\n\nFor all things there is a cost.\n\nI hope that girl is satisfied with what she got for what she paid.\n\nI know I sure am.\n\n\"Ah, yeah. When I was in college, I used to do some crazy things,\" he says, chuckling. \"I'm glad I grew out of it. Glad I got a daughter who isn't as wild as I was, too.\"\n\nI laugh. It is forced.\n\nYou have no idea, dad.\n\n\"Yes sir, I'm just me... biology major, doing my studies and living at home. Nothing interesting here. At any rate, thank you guys so much for the birthday dinner. Now that I'm twenty one, I figure it's time I go out to a bar and get wasted then wake up in the morning with a tattoo of some woman's name that I will regret for the rest of my life.\"\n\nHe stares.\n\nThis time, my laugh is real, and loud. \n\n\"Girl, don't you scare scare me like that!\" he says, shaking his head. \"Good god, that was so eerily convincing.\"\n\n\"Theater class,\" I tell him, smirking. \"I do need to go out tonight though. I have a lab report that Liz and I are going to work on.\"\n\nHe nods.\n\n\"You going to spend the night at her place again?\" \n\n\"Probably. We'll be working pretty late,\" I say. This is the truth. Liz and I will be working late, and knowing her, we won't be sleeping for a decent bit of time even after we're done. We don't have a lab report to do, though. I can't imagine doing something that damned boring when I have her by my side.\n\n\"Alright. Well, take your phone in case you need to call someone. I'll see you whenever you wind up home,\" he says. I nod and then look over at my sister, sighing. She's not going to wind up like me. I'm not sure that's a bad thing, but her internet addiction is definitely not a good thing.\n\n\"Yes sir. I'll see you later. Thanks for the dinner mom.\"\n\nShe nods, still focused on trying to get my little brother to do the apparently complex eating thing. \n\n\"Love you honey.\"\n\n\"I love you guys too.\"\n\nI rise and push my chair in, leave them sitting in the bright kitchen. As soon as I am out of the room, I am able to relax my posture some. I can't wait until I 'graduate' college so I can move out and stop having to lead this double life quite so often. It's... tiring. Maintaining these illusions that hide what I really look like now is also quite exhausting.\n\nMy coat hangs by the door, and I take it for the sake of appearances, but everything I need is in the car I leave parked in the lot of a building owned by our people. It's a two block trip, and I make it quickly. The moon and her sister are going to be coming up soon - one seen by all, the other only seen by a few because of the unique natural magics that conceal it.\n\nIt is growing dark quickly though. The air feels thick. There is a storm coming - not in the melodramatic sense either. In the 'it's going to fucking rain' sense.\n\nOnce I am a block from my house, I break into a run. Four years ago, I wouldn't have been able to run this fast for any extended period of time but now every single day I am on my feet all day walking or running or fighting, carrying over a hundred pounds. The illusions hide the muscle I have built, make me look thin and such still.\n\nBut sentinels can't be thin.\n\nI reach the lot of what used to be a church and slow to a walk. There is someone standing beside the boring, rather scratched up sedan in an ugly beige color. This person wears a long dark coat and is taller than me, and she's just so absolutely beautiful. \n\n\"Oh, gross. Alice, you look like a human,\" she says, her voice harsh. I laugh and jog up to the car, come to a stop without so much as bothering to pant. Her hand falls and presses against my stomach. \"Oh, look at you. You had a big meal and your tummy is all full.\"\n\nI smack her hand away, glaring.\n\n\"Don't get all cute with me, Liz.\"\n\nShe stoops then, running her fingertips down my cheek and then gently pressing her lips to mine. They taste like smoke and cherries and iron and it's just wonderful in every way. I can't be mad at her when she kisses me, I just can't. When she pulls back, her nose is nearly touching mine. \n\nStreaks of her lovely black hair have turned white and gray because of the kinds of magic she uses putting stress on her body. She's also a full decade and a half older than me, and she is my mistress. Creepy as it sounds to say that, even in my head, it's just a title - sort of. I guess she is still the one who is always in control. Either way, I love her to death.\n\n\"But you are cute, lovely,\" she replies, her golden eyes glinting in the light from the rising moons. \"Go on and get geared up. We have patrol. I'll hide us so you don't have to.\"\n\nI can feel the illusions crackle to life around the car before she even finishes the sentence. Some day, I want to be as capable and as skilled as she is. Her powers are far above my own, and that shows in her body. Her pupils have become slitted, her tongue forked, her lips blackened permanently. I just... I can't help but stare at her sometimes.\n\nPerfection, that's what she is.\n\nThe trunk opens up when I wave my hand at it, trying to impress her with my rapid cast spellwork. Before delving into it, however, I look at my reflection in the rear window on the driver's side.\n\nThere I am, a pale skinned half white, half black girl with nice bright green eyes and curly hair. Normal looking. Thin. Frail, even. \n\nBut when I allow the illusion to fall, that image changes. The angles of my face become harder. A terrible scar draws itself down from my right temple all the way right across my eye and then down to the left side of my chin, over my own blackened lips. We who fight with monsters become monsters ourselves. It is a warning we are in fact given when we choose to become Sentinels. Once we have made our choice, our decision, it is no longer something we are told to be cautious about.\n\nWe are encouraged to become more and more monstrous, for our own safety.\n\nShe... she is much more monstrous than I.\n\nI, who only has blackened veins spider webbing across my cheek from the scar. I, whose eye is human save for the color of it being a sharp, bright magma orange. I, whose curly hair hangs lank and straight. I, who is blind on one side...\n\nI have much to learn from her and many more monstrous changes to embrace.\n\nAt least I have become much more fit and powerful, physically and magically, since I began my work. \n\nMy mistress watches as I throw my coat off and set it in the trunk. The t-shirt I wear comes off next, followed by my bra. I am conscious of her eyes on my body as I work my pants off. I know how much she is attracted to me, to the softness I purposefully maintain on top of the firm muscles for the sake of my own self esteem. I am also completely aware of just how attractive I find her.\n\nIt is not uncommon that mistress or master and pupil develop a relationship. It's normal. Encouraged even.\n\nI am naked now, and this would bother me with how public this location is if I didn't know that no one can possibly see me. Further, I am a soldier. That is my job. I do not have time to feel shame or embarrassment, not when there are likely nightmares afoot that I must put down or battle to the honorable death.\n\n(To be continued in the comment below.)\n", "He sits at his desk, staring away blankly. A typewriter, meticulously cared for but worn from obviously daily use, sits in front of him. The clock ticks, the time between each noise seeming to last an eternity. His upper lip, inhabited by a glorious mustache, twitches. Finally, 5 o'clock has come. He avoids all on his way out, especially the office of his deputy; he knows it will be occupied for several hours to come. She's a nice woman. It's a pity her talents are being wasted here.\n\nHis drive home is silent, contemplative. He considers stopping by Home Depot, one of his favorite places, but decides against it. He is short on time. \n\nFinally he arrives. He greets his wife and children with a kiss and a handshake respectively. Diane smiles at home. She knows what is happening tonight, why he is in such a good mood. They eat dinner, the girls talk about their day, sometimes he listens. After they head to bed, he begins the familiar routine. He dresses up, grabs his saxophone, and heads out. The stage welcomes him, the crowd screams his name. He closes his eyes, and begins.\n\n\"I'm Duke Silver, and I'm here to make magic with you tonight.\"", "\"Do you regret it now?\" \n\nThe man was dressed in a white suit that exaggerated his thin dark beard. He sat on the ground against one of the walls in the pure white room. \n\nAcross from him sat a man in jeans and a shirt. His face was sullen and dark.\n \n\"No. I don't.\" He responded.\n\n\"I simply can't believe that. I simply can't. I mean, I don't believe in a lot of things...but you. YOU are unbelievable Ryan.\"\n\n\"Leave me alone.\" Ryan mumbled.\n\n\"So you can do what? Sit here alone with your thoughts? I'm doing you a favor here—breaking the rules. You won't age in this room. You wont die. No food. No entertainment. No visitors. And yet here I am.\"\n\nThey sat in silence for a while, until Ryan finally spoke. \"I would expect Satan to break the rules.\"\n\nSatan let out a long, cold laugh. \"You know me too well. But I still haven't figured you out Ryan. Eternal solitary confinement isn't something just anyone could condemn themselves to.\" Ryan remained motionless. He didn't want to give Satan any idea that he was interested in his presence.\n\n\"You know what I didn't tell you?\" Satan suddenly stood up and kicked Ryan in the side. \"Look at me Ryan. LOOK AT ME!\" He stooped down and grabbed Ryan's chin, bringing his face inches from his own.\n\n\"This little room your in? This is hell.\" Satan's smile was cutting. \"Everyone thinks of fire and darkness and torture but they never thought that hell could be nothing. You see Ryan, having nothing to live for and having to still continue living is unbearable. Alone with no one to love and no one to love you. That is hell.\"\n\nRyan jerked his face out of Satan's grip. He knew this was hell. He had known that for a long time.\n\n\"But you knew that didn't you.\" Satan continued while pacing around the room. \"Giving yourself to me to save your little girl from an early death. Cancer, what a horrible thing. You saved her from a lot of suffering Ryan. So I guess there's that.\" Satan walked over to the door and stood in the doorway with his back to Ryan.\n\n\"You just couldn't lose another person after your wife died in that car crash, could you? But now, little Amy will never get to meet her father.\"\n\nRyan twisted up into a ball and hid his face in his legs.\n\n\"If you think about it, she'll grow up with no one to love and no one to love her. You created a nice little hell on earth for Amy.\"\n\nRyan's eyes went wide. His mind raced. Was he wrong to have traded his life for hers? Was she really unhappy? \n\n\"Even I couldn't do that to a child...\"\n\nSatan flashed a crooked smile one last time at Ryan. He walked out of the room and closed the door without any intention of ever returning.", "During a 70s summer, my mother was sprayed with blood as her childhood friend, Bill Paterson, tried to win her affection with the display of his father's Colt 45. A boy trying to impress a pretty girl with his father's relic, he mishandled the weapon and shot himself clear through the neck, clipping an artery on the way out. The neighbors, an elderly couple with basil plants and grandchildren, scuffled towards them in response, calling for an ambulance on the way. Bill, after a week in critical condition, eventually stabilized. If you were to find him now, a 50 year old man with a family and a hunting cabin, he'd laugh at the tale and thumb the wrinkles in his neck that chewed metal. To be fair, he spent most of that week unconscious and drugged. My mother wasn't. \n\nThe story came up the night before Thanksgiving, after wine and more wine, per family tradition. Hesitant, I slipped a comment about a hunting trip with the fiance during banter.\n\n\"HUNTING?\" she shouted. \"No no no, it's too dangerous. I can't be putting my son to rest at twenty-three.\"\n\nI bit my tongue, and the argument paired with it.\n\nMy father shot a look of annoyance, knowing her disapproval meant his too if questioned. My sister, four-years younger, feinted disbelief, but couldn't care either way. The tension cleaned up after an hour or two. Sitting on the couch, my mom joined me, apologizing for the outburst. The story of her and Bill soon followed, her cringing over the gruesome details. \n\nHow was I supposed to tell this woman I was joining the Marines? \n\nThe idea came about during college, after sharing drinks with Thomas, a friend and fraternity brother. \"What are you worried about? You're getting a computer engineering degree. I'm pretty sure people are going to need to get their computers engineered.\"\n\nPouting over my drink, I nodded. \"I mean, the same could be said about you and psychology. Understanding how people think and feel and act is kind of important.\"\n\n\"Maybe I can trick people into giving me money for that.\"\n\n\"Therapy?\"\n\nThomas laughs and kicks his feet onto the bar table, pulling my glasses off the table and onto the bridge of his nose.\n\n\"Now, Michael, tell me, how do you feel about your mother?\"\n\nIt was in jest, but for one reason or another, I did. We chatted for hours about neuroticism, paranoia, phobias, aspirations, and careers, all the while getting hammered drunk. Graduation was a month away. The looming reality of life after was approaching fast.\n\n\"Why don't you look into military,\" he asked near closing time.\n\n\"Oh cause that'd go over real well.\"\n\n\"Who the fuck cares how it'll go over. Put that to the side. I'm actually thinking about heading into the Air Force myself.\"\n\nI pushed myself out of my slouch and sat up straight. \"Are you serious?\"\n\nHe nodded and gave his signature sideways smile. \"Yeah. It's been sort of playing in the back of my mind for awhile. It's a freaky thought, but at least I'll be doing something important. The other option is grad school, and I'm not trying to go to grad school.\"\n\nThe bar closes, and the weeks pass, and graduation comes and goes in what feels like no time at all. All the while, I'm turning around the idea, growing it. Instead of, do I join the military, it's, what branch makes the most sense? How do I get in touch with a recruiter? How do I keep this under wraps? \n\nIt turns out lying to your family after school is just as easy as any other period of time. After going through the recruitment process, I made up a story about a start-up in California. A specially designed sensor that regulates temperature and fermentation for the brewing of alcohol. Pay would be low, but I'd be on the ground floor of something incredible. Even that much didn't go over too well, since it involved moving multiple states away, but it satisfied my family. I was growing up to be an independent young male. I was being an adult. \n\nMeanwhile, I arrange for a few close friends to carry on my persona for 8 weeks during my stay at basic training. I provide a thumb drive full of old photos, to be updated periodically, and give them the keys to the account. Before I leave, I tell them my phone has been stolen, and that I'm in the process of getting a new one. It was an awful lie, but it bought me a week or two out of eight. The moment I was permitted back into society, I bought a new phone with a new number and gave my family a call. They sounded about ready to disown me, but I got left off the hook soon enough. \n\nEdit: Yeah, I don't know where this is really going. Sorry :/\n\n" ]	5
Thought the military buffs could have some fun with this.	[WP] A lone American soldier is trapped in a Wal-Mart on July 4, surrounded by North Korean Special Forces. He is out of ammo and reinforcements are 15 minutes out. All hope seems lost, until he finds the fireworks isle.	[ "The Commander tore through the aisles, until he found the fireworks. He knew about explosives and IEDs; but, he thought also of his daughter.\n\nShe had always been interested in North Korea, an isolated, iron-fisted kingdom, and was part of a group that fundraised to pay brokers to help North Koreans escape. She'd told him about their brainwashing, famines, absolute lack of freedom. He felt a strange, unnamable feeling, then, as he thought again about the soldiers closing in.\n\nUnsure what to do, he grabbed a few of the largest bottle rockets he could find, and began to dart around the various sections, grabbing everything he could reach. He could not, would not, decide.\n\nTaking his many items, he climbed to the top of a column of cases of soda, and ducked, keeping watch.\n\nHe lay in wait until he saw the small phalanx of soldiers, and struggled to light the rocket, all the while sneaking glances as they drew closer.\n\nFinally, he was close enough to see the Korean commander's face, from above. Oh shit. The man had seen him as well. For a split second, he looked into his enemy's eyes, and saw a flash of sadness and pain.\n\nThe Marine dropped the match, and opened the laptop next to him. \"Stop!\" he shouted. \"You don't have to do this! I can free you!\"\n\nThe Marine used the store's Internet to show the unit the atrocities of the Kims, as well as how life really was in the US.\n\nAfter an hours-long standoff, he and the Koreans were on a plane to Washington, D.C.- destination, American embassy. The soldiers had changed out of their olive-drab and into Walmart's ubiquitous, ugly clothes.", "Dirk dove behind the low aisle of condoms as above his head, incoming machine gun fire tore the prophylactics to shreds. Little confetti bits of lubed and banana flavoured latex rained down on the somber Marine, as he scrambled across the floor.\n\n“Sorry boys,” Dirk grumbled to no one, “looks like this date will have to be bareback.”\n\nDirk made his way across to the next aisle; Sporting Goods. Through the din of bullets and the crashing down of cheap children’s toys, he heard the unmistakable whistling of an inbound grenade. In one fell swoop, he dove towards the shelves, grabbed a whiffle-ball scoop, and deftly returned the flying explosive back to its original owner. The lightening -thud- of the grenade’s detonation was a welcome tune.\n\n“Returned to sender,” Dirk quipped with stoic glee. He hustled himself to the end of the aisle, and pushed his way through a stack of bargain laundry detergent, and burst forth on the other side.\n\nThere Dirk finally found what he had been looking for, and his calloused face stretched uneasily into a grisly smirk. With the speed and confidence of a man born for this moment, he strapped as much of the wondrous bounty to himself as possible. He coated his body with various waves of ordinance, and rapidly fashioned several bombs of unexpected ferocity. As he was applying the finishing touches to his munitions, a voice came out over a loudspeaker.\n\n“You have no escape,” demanded the tinny speaker, “You must surrender. What could you possibly have to win this battle?”\n\nDirk smiled the biggest smile of his life, and proudly stepped out from behind the shelves, brimming with explosives and rockets, Roman flares and M80s.\n\n“I have the rocket’s red glare.” \n\nEDIT: spelling\n" ]	2
Simple things like a parking lot or phone booth would confuse the heck out of them! What will your tricky time traveling engineer build?	[WP] A time traveling engineer builds a very ordinary and familiar piece of modern infrastructure in the 18th or 19th century and leaves the people of the time to guess its function.	[ "“Oh shit.” Wyatt began frantically checking his coat and pants pockets.\n\n“Something the matter, Wyatt?” His assistant asked him, peevishly looking him over, beyond the crevasse of the time-dilation platform.\n\n“My phone, I can't find my smartphone, Malcom.” \n\n“Oh shit.” He repeated.\n\n“What time period were you last travelling through?” The assistant asked, running over to the console, and bringing up the logs on the holographic display.\n\n“I don't know – 18th, 19th century? I was doing a bit of World War history studies.” Wyatt began.\n\n“Oh. Oh no. Wyatt you can't go back.” The assistant said.\n\nWyatt was already strapping on the inertial dampeners to his chest, and the circlet around his head. “Why not?”\n\n“This is why, look-” He said, pointing at a public encyclopedic article dating to the early 1920s.\n\nThe text quickly and automatically translated from German.\n\n“Arthur Scherbius, was a German electrical engineer who patented an invention for a mechanical cipher machine, later sold as the Enigma machine.”\n\nWyatt's face began to drain itself of color.\n\n“Scherbius applied for a patent for a cipher machine based on rotating wheels, purchasing the rights to another patent for a rotor machine from Hugo Koch, patented in 1919.”\n\nThe assistant began to quickly tab through various pages. “Now, look where Hugo Koch got his designs for his rotor machine.” \n\n“Hugo Koch, a Dutch inventor who concieved of and patented the idea for machine encryption, the rotor machine, used designs originally discovered at a crater site on the outskirts of Amsterdam. The rudimentary rotor machine which was subsequently seized by the Dutch national government and housed in the Naamloze Vennotschap Ingenieursbeau for further inspection. The machine was later stolen by Polish military intelligence in the December of 1932.” \n\n“Oh fuck.” They both said.\n\nWyatt shook his head. Modify the records, Malcom. We're burying this. \n\nThe assistant gazed at the professor. “What do you mean? How do we cover up something this gigantic?”\n\n“Easy. Does it mention anything about what “sort of machine” it was?” \n\n“No..” the assistant said gazing at the screen.\n\n“How about its intended functions?” \n\n“Nothing on that either.” The assistant said, looking back to the professor, who now stood on the time-dilation platform and had his hand on the lever with a laser pistol in the other.\n\n“What the hell are you doing professor?!” The assistant shouted.\n\n“I'm going to 1928 to kill both Hugo Koch and Arthur Scherbius, obviously.” He said, with a smile.\n\nThe plasma arc fizzled out and the intense light subsided.\n\nThe assistant sighed, and waited. \n\nHours passed.\n\nThe professor never returned.", "It was a bright silver contraption. It had two slots on the top and a queer wire that worked it's way around the south face. There were two levers on the east face that could be pushed up and down. \n\nIt had been discovered on a pedastal in the center of Paris, during the French revolution. It appeared overnight, and the whole city called the most unbelievable truce ever to investigate the strange machine. Maximillian Robespierre immediately announced that it was to be studied by Charles-Augustin de Coulomb, the man who invented the metric system.\t\n\nCurious, most curious indeed... Coulomb thought to himself on being handed the machine. A note had come with the silver box which he now read aloud to the National Assembly: \"Use this well. It is a powerful tool that will spring you into a new era.\"\n\nImmediately, uproar spread throughout the assemby, people were yelling and farmers that had gotten in were raising their pitchforks. It was an absoloute mad house!\n\n\"Calm citizens! I demand you remain calm!\" The voice rang out through the hall and in walked the last person anyone ever expected to see: King Louis XVI. A red robe akin to that of Maximillian's was strung around his neck. The crowd split apart and he strode through, showing no fear to the bloodthirsty faces of the assembly. He mounted the speaking floor and held his ground, ready to give his speech.\n\n\"Hello, my pe-\" He attempted to begin, but was almost immediately booed by the revolutionaries. Louis waited patiently and raised his hand, stopping the commotion.\n\n\"Let's try this again. Hello, my people,\" There was no sound from the crowd this time, Louis had them in. He continued, \"I know, the past few years have been filled with hardship, turmoil, and a grand hatred of your king. But I now ask you to do away with that hatred and ignore your revolution! We have much more pressing matters than Mr. Robespierre's silly rebellion.\" He paused for a moment for dramatic effect, expecting more jeering, but it never came. \n\n\"Citizens of France... I ask you to throw down your rifles. Throw down your swords and throw down your contempt. This box...\" Louis reached out and easily pried it from Coulomb's hands, raising above his head in a preacher's pose. \n\n\"This box is meant to bring us peace! I can feel it! It is not of our time! The most brilliant scientists France has cannot unravel it's secrets, and so, we must divert our attention from our petty conflict and find the mystery of it. We MUST! People of France, whether or not you abhore me, you must admit this is NOT a time for conflict! Help your fellow man, reach out, and invest in science now for it will surely pay divedends for many years to come! Throw down your guns and your hatred and join ME!\"\n\nHis final word exploded like a firecracker in the hall and for a moment everyone was silent.\n\n\"Huzzah!\" One voice rang out from the gallery. The sound of a sword hitting the floor followed. Another followed. And another. And another. And another, until the room was filled with cheering and shouting and the sounds of weapons contacting the hard cobblestone floor.\n\nThat meeting led to three days of prosperity for the nation. Three days after, Maximillian Robespierre was nowhere to be found. Four days after, a silver knife was found in his back. Five days later, King Louis was spotted crossing the border into Austria. Eight days later, Austria learned of the contraption. Nine days later they asked France to conduct an experiment with it. Ten days later, Germany, England, and Spain found out wild stories of the box's powers. Stories of sorcery and death and possesion. By the end of the month, the entire world had heard news of it, and started to demand it, one by one.\n\nThe Pope wished to destroy it, and so he sent his elite to France to capture it. In a stunning turn of events, England promised to protect France but Spain sided with the Catholics. The colonies began fighting again and North America became a battleground that made the American Civil War look like a petty argument between children. Germany began to pour it's efforts into it's military and immediately exiled any french sympathizers, much like Robespierre had planned to do with his own nation. \n\nChina sought to take advantage of the situation and began to pillage India and Australia, crippling the British Empire. Japan carted their Samurais out to North America to help the First Nations tribes in their war effort. The wildcard was Russia. The world tensed to see what they would bring forth to the war, but it proved to be indesive, and Germany was quick to react, annexing the Ukraine and Poland in a swift strike; waiting for the perfect moment to jump on Russia. \n\nHowever, they made the grave mistake of attacking in winter, and their army was torn to pieces.\n\nThe world slowly imploded on itself the following two hundred years. Nations developed at a crawl, the cause of the war long forgotten. Eventually, what had been now come to known as the American Alliance, which consisted of the far north all the way down to the central tropical provinces, developed Nuclear Power. They warned the other nations of this, demanding peace, or death for all. Germany refused to back down, and in the following years had command of their own Nuclear power. France and Britian were now the European Union, and begged Germany and the Americans to stop, lest the world be destroyed. But the hatred and nationalism was rooted too deeply in them, and they launched their nukes, making the earth a wasteland of swamps.\n\nThree were left after the dust settled.\n\nTwo hundred years later, a race known as the Zygorthians would descend onto a a world that they knew as \"The Cyrpt\". They would uncover an artifact, a rare piece of Human technology from ages past. \n\nIt was a faded silver contraption. It had two slots on the top and a queer wire that worked it's way around the south face. There were two levers on the east face that once could be pushed up and down, but were broken now.\n\nThe Zygorthians that found it, looked at each other, and then at the note that had come with it. They saw a smudge of handwriting at the bottom, and a fish in their ear decoded the phrase:\n\nP.s. It's called a toaster. \n\n\n\ntl;dr: I learned about the French Revolution and play too much Civ 5.", "\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Dr. Brown would not tell me. He said that we, in due time, we would discover for ourselves.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it is a magical horse, like the \"automobiles\" of which he spoke. To travel great distances, or even travel across time like the doctor's own automobile!\"\n\n\"Impossible. It does not have the wheels of a carriage. Only the seat.\"\n\n\"A seat of prayer perhaps. A gateway to the divine.\"\n\n\"Look, there is a square of parchment attached to the seat. It could be a clue.\"\n\n\"'Remember to flush.' What on earth could it mean?\"" ]	3
	[WP] A SWAT team raids a house. What they find in the basement horrifies them.	[ "It was supposed to be a routine mission, atleast that's what Jackson told us. \"He doesn't even know we are coming.\" He said as we all stepped into the back of the SWAT vehicle. \"The Sunny D killer won't know what him!\" \"Why on earth is he called the Sunny D killer?\" Asked Charlie as the vehicle started up and pulled out onto the road. \"Don't you know?\" Asked Jackson. \"He drowns all his victims in a tub of Sunny D. It's pretty obvious to be honest.\"\n\nWe arrived at the house at 0200 hours. It was an old cabin in the woods several miles from town. As we moved up to front door Jackson was already barking out orders. \" Charlie, Ben, and John got the first floor, and Josh, Griffin, and I got the second floor.\" Jackson points at me. \"Vincent, you're with us.\" \"Yes sir!\" I replied firmly. Then we stepped over the threshold and into the house.\n\nThere wasn't much on the second floor. Just strange paintings of the Sun and empty Sunny D jugs everywhere. Sunny D. The floor was saturated with the stuff! It was this like this guy's entire life revolved around some glorified orange juice! It was sickening. After the all clear from Jackson we moved downstairs to meet back up with Charlie's group.\n\n\nTo our dismay Charlie's group didn't find anything either. Jackson was obviously frustrated. \"Isn't this where he lived? Then where on god's green earth is he!?\" He screamed. \"Sarge look!\" Alex called. \"There's a door leading to the basement!\" \"Thank god.\"Jackson muttered. \"We aren't done yet.\"\n\n\"Good news Vincent. Since you're the rookie, you get to go into the basement first!\" I groaned internally. Out of all people I am the first to step into a basement owned by a serial killer. With obvious hesitation I slowly mounted the stairs and started to descend. Each step sent ominous creaks that echoed up and down the staircase. What I saw at the end of the staircase was horrifying.\n\nThe stairs opened up into a large room lit by torches. At the center of the room was a man in armor kneeling over a dead body with his chest cavity filled with Sunny D. The man lifted his head from the pool of orange liquid and looked at me with excitement. I watched with shock as I saw a mixture of blood and Sunny D dribble off his chin. \"PRAISE THE SUN!\" He shrieked. Next thing I know I'm on the ground with the Sunny D killer standing over me. \"My name is knight Solaire.\" He said. \"Would you like some jolly cooperation?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Los Angeles Police Department, D Platoon\n\nDATE: April 24, 2005.\n\nLOCATION: [REDACTED]\n\nSUBJECT: Hostage Rescue\n\n_______________________________________\n\nPre-assault briefing: \"Officers, we've got a big one. Members of a right-wing extremist militia have taken the CFO of the [REDACTED] Corporation and his family hostage. Contact was established with the hostage takers at 1356 hours; communication was lost approximately three hours later. Suspects have not requested a ransom, so this may be personal.\n\nSuspects are expected to heavily-armed and dangerous. An FBI raid on one of their farmhouses has revealed a large cache of automatic weapons, bulletproof armor and a number of other small arms, so we're going heavy on this one. Be sure to check your targets, the CFO's got children.\n\nDeployment is as follows: element one will breach and clear from the west, element two will clear the eastern side. We'll have element one move downstairs to clear the basement,, element two has the upstairs.\"\n\nTRANSCRIPT FROM ELEMENT ONE\n\nMEMBERS OF RED TEAM: P. Hansen, D. Johnson.\n\nMEMBERS OF BLUE TEAM: W. Castle, J. Larson.\n\nELEMENT ONE LEAD: N. Costa.\n\n(Operation executed at 7:45 PM, or 1945 PM)\n\n19:45\n\nCOSTA: TOC, this is entry team. Snipers have spotted three armed guards in the mansion's lobby. Preparing to move in.\n\nTOC: Copy that, E1. Proceed.\n\nGunfire rings out.\n\nCOSTA: TOC, we've got two suspects down, one neutralized. \n\nTOC: Roger that, we've got EMT's on standby.\n\n19:54\n\nCOSTA: TOC, ground floor cleared. No sign of the hostages. At least six militiamen neutralized, two awaiting medical attention. Moving forward to the basement.\n\nTHE FOLLOWING TRANSCRIPTS ARE FROM ELEMENT ONE'S HELMET RECORDERS.\n\nCOSTA: Element, stack up on the basement door.\n\nRed team moves in front of the door as blue covers them\n\nCOSTA: Try the door.\n\nHansen twists the knob. The door opens.\n\n[R]HANSEN: Door open.\n\nCOSTA: Mirror for suspects.\n\n[R]HANSEN: Aye.\n\nHansen begins to use a mirror-on-a-stick. He carefully bends it around the corner of the doorway.\n\n[R]HANSEN: I've got nothing.\n\nCosta nods.\n\nCOSTA: Element, prepare for entry. Use CS gas. Go when ready.\n\nAt this point, Johnson throws a tear gas grenade down the stairwell. Within seconds, the element moves downstairs to the basement.\n\n[B]CASTLE: Clear right!\n\n[R]HANSEN: Clear left!\n\nCOSTA: Room clear!\n\nThe room is empty, save for a few paint buckets on the floor. Costa throws a glowstick on the floor to mark it as clear. However, he swings his head into the direction of a doorway to his right. Turning on his flashlight he notices a small patch of blood underneath. \n\n[B]LARSON: The fuck is that?\n\n[R]HANSEN: Could it be the CF--...\n\nCOSTA: Hush! Element, I want you to stack up on that door immediately. Go dynamic. Bang and clear when ready.\n\nWithout further interruption, Element One proceeds to stack up on the doorway. Hansen opens the door slightly to allow Johnson to throw a flashbang through the opening. As soon as the grenade goes off, Element One moves in.\n\nCOSTA: Room seems clear. No sig---... what the fuck is that?\n\n[B]LARSON: What in the Holy Mother of God....\n\nThe camera view switches to Larson's perspective, revealing the mutilated remains of the CFO and his family. A series of markings riddle the wall around the room, accompanied by several quotes from the Bible. The CFO himself appeared to have been crucified upside down with his entrails hanging down, dangling in front of his face; later autopsies reveal that he may been alive when he was disemboweled.\n\nThe CFO's wife and kids were cut up into pieces. Their organs were found in a trashbag not far from the scene, suggesting that they were meant to be sold to the illegal organ trafficking business.\n\nHansen and Larson both vomited, right before the view changes to the perspective of Costa.\n\nCOSTA: TOC, this is Element One. We've found the hostages.", "Hello! You requested an official document!\n\nAs part of the \"You Can Trust Your Government\" plan, all civilians have been given access to police Audio Logs! We hope you find what you need, and remember: we are transparent, you can trust us.\n\n----------\n\nNEW YORK P.D.\n\nSTATION #32D - RAINBOW BRAVO UNIT\n\nLIEUTENANT Crimson, Mark MC. STAFF SERGEANT Johnson, David DJ. 1st CORPORAL Sokol, Jason JS. CORPORAL Backe, Yohann YB.\n\nDate: JUNE, 23rd. 2016\n\nLocation: [UNDISCLOSED]\n\nRecording Start: 7:21 P.M. EDT Local time.\n\n-----\n\n[00:00:01] MC: Damn, forgot to turn the Logger on earlier. There was nothing to report so I didn't feel the need to. Whole house is clear, clean and well kept. Looks like the family simply left for a vacation. So far, no reason to justify deployment. Team moving into basement now. Only place left to check. Hey Dave, are you ready?\n\n[00:00:32] DJ: Most definitely, sir. Team: set... Hold... Go! creeks.* steps. (low voice) Down the stairs, watch your head, Yohann.\n\n[00:00:52] YB: It all seems clear... Jesus Christ, this place is big. Sir, flashlights?\n\n[00:01:02] MC: Sure, flashlights on. multiple clicks\n\n[00:01:06] JS: Place looks about... 2.7k square feet. Big room, no floorboards, nothing on the walls... Hang on. Sir, there's a door. 3 o'clock. steps\n\n[00:01:23] DJ: Team: set... Hold... Go! creeks. steps. unidentified gasp.\n\n[00:01:42] YB: Holy...\n\n[00:01:45] JS: What's going-- Oh my God. thump; Sokol drops on his knees\n\n[00:01:51] MC: Child showing extremely heavy signs of malnourishment, blonde hair, blue eyes, 4 feet 3. rushed steps Child, are you okay? What's your name?\n\n[00:02:21] Clarkson, Maria: (very faint voice) M... Mommy? Have you come to let me out? coffing I know I was a bad girl. Please let me out. I will behave better now. Please.\n\n[00:02:40] YB: Holy shit. For how long has this child been here?\n\n[00:02:47] DJ: The family has been vacationing for at least 3 weeks, but she may have been locked in here much earlier.\n\n[00:02:56] JS: Man, I can't... The smell... Holy shit... struggling breathing\n\n[00:03:02] Clarkson, Maria: Dad? Is that ... You? I have learned... My lesson. Please tell... Tell Mommy to let me go... I won't talk... I won't talk back... And I... I won't tell any... Anyone. Just like you... Said I should.\n\n[00:03:21] JS: I can't take this, man... Holy Mary I'm about to... vomiting\n\n[00:03:34] MC: We must get this kid to a hospital immediately.\n\n[00:03:40] Clarkson, Maria: Mom, I like it when you... Carress me like that. It makes me... Feel lo... Loved... Please let me out...\n\n[00:03:49] JS: She's 8 years old, for Christ sake! What the fuck is this?\n\n[00:03:54] Clarkson, Maria: Why are... You picking me up, Mom? Am I allowed to... To go play? Am I free? I feel... So... Happy...\n\n[00:04:02] MC: Move it, Jason! We must get this kid outta here! running\n\n[00:04:11] Clarkson, Maria: I... I love when you rock... Me in your arms... Mom... I really love... You... moan\n\n[00:04:17] MC: No no no no no! steps I'm losing her! Shit! loud sound, Crimson bashes through a door. Shit, shit, shit!\n\n[00:04:54] Clarkson, Maria: Thanks for... Everything... Mom... I... Love you... A lot...\n\n[00:05:05] MC: (shouting) No! Shit! Fuck! No! No! God, no! God... (normal volume) No... No... No...\n\n[00:05:31] DJ: Sir, are you...\n\n[00:05:57] MC: (sobbing) My uniform, Dave. She's clinging onto my uniform...", "RAID OF AUGUST 10TH, 2013 TIMELINE\nNOT FOR EYES OUTSIDE OF HOUSTON METRO POLICE DEPARTMENT OR FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION. ALL MATTERS HEREIN ARE CONSIDERED TOP SECRET LEVEL OMEGA. ALL UNAUTHORIZED VIEWING WILL BE PUNISHED TO THE FULLEST EXTENT OF THE LAW AS PER H.R. 3162 WITH PUNISHMENTS RANGING FROM INDEFINITE IMPRISONMENT TO A FINE NO LOWER THAN 25 MILLION.\n\n\n2:30 \n\nWarrant received from State of Texas legal system as per Judge McConnell's request.\n\n3:30\n\nBriefing, mapping of home using latest street-level surveillance and blueprints.\n\n5:15 AM - 5:30 AM\n\nTwo-stage insertion into premises, helicopter drop and fast-rope through upper windows and battering ram down front door. Teams immediately are engaged by armed suspects and incur two injuries, but are able to systematically clear the home of hostile suspects and three female suspects and two children are rescued and exfiltrated.\n\nMassive stores of methamphetamine and unknown substances found on upper level in children's bedroom. \n\n5:35 \n\nSecret entrance to basement discovered behind kitchen pantry.\n\n5:40 \n\nTeam given clear to investigate basement\n\n5:45\n\nTeam enters basement using night-vision and low-light equipment.\n\n5:47-5:50\n\nTwelve suspects encountered, unarmed, engaging in occult practice involving a naked male individual with grievous bodily injuries on a large marble slab.\n\nSWAT team clears the room of all standing hostile suspects. \n\nInjured individual spoke in unknown language and levitated off of slab, vanishing with burst of light and sound of phantom thunder, leaving behind bloodied feathers of unknown origin.\n\n\n\n" ]	4
For example, it could be instructions, or a killer describing the readers' day	[WP] write a horror story from second person view, rather than first or third	[ "Why are you in a mausoleum? Thinking back, the last thing you remember is the prank going wrong. It was only supposed to be a joke to freak out that new freshman that wanted to ride in Jimmy’s mustang. Playing chicken on Lookout Point was supposed to be funny. Jimmy was going to pretend his breaks were out and that freshman would wet his pants. So why didn’t Jimmy stop first like he told you he would? \n\nThe last thing you remember is your tires skidding on the gravel and the classic Chevy your Dad gave you going through the wooden guard rail. So how come you’re still alive? This burial chamber is full of dead leaves blown in throughout the years, and smells of decay. Sitting up you’re stiff. There’s a sudden grinding pain you feel on your chest.\n\nYou flashback for an instant and can almost feel the steering wheel and your torso colliding. Standing slowly you see an alter arranged over the stone casket opposite you. When you reach it you see multiple newspaper clippings lined up.\n\nThe first reads, Heir to Local Company Dies in Accident and there is a picture of you. Another article is entitled; Who will take over Brown & Co? You are engrossed with these faded texts. \n\nI died? You think. How could you have died if you are standing right here? \n\nA picture comes next of Jimmy shaking hands with your father’s business rival. On the back is written Lookout Point was no accident. There is more evidence that you see showing your best friend Jimmy taking money from that scumbag rival. \n\nThen an article dated eight years after your death: Jimmy Stone New CEO of Brown & Co. Your father gave the company over to your best friend. Now Jimmy is doing what you always dreamed of doing. Brown & Company is your family's legacy!\nThe final things you see on the alter is a newspaper you later find to be dated for today. It’s been exactly ten years since you died. The headline reads; Brown & Co Bankrupt, how will town survive? \n\nSomeone has written over the picture of the article, Time for revenge. Without hesitating you pick up the hunting knife that's been left for you. You used it during all those antelope trips with your grandfather each fall. You step out of the mausoleum wearing the clothes you were buried in, and start looking for retribution. \n", "Why the fuck did you go back in the house?\n\nYou idiot. No going back now. You hear the ominous click of the door behind you. Do you hear that other sound? It's the blood thumping through your ears, your heart hammering through your chest. It's absolutely harmonious to your hunter - the sign of the perfect prey. You sprint through the house, desperately hoping against all your senses that the back door wasn't locked. \n\nYou're a fool by the way. \n\nNow you're trying the windows? Shouldn't you be trying to find a weapon or something like that? Oh wait, you're an absolute plonker, of course you aren't. You can't blame yourself though. Fear turns even the smartest person into a wild, stupid animal, and you aren't any different. You try to pry the windows open only to find there's a thick, slimy film gluing them closed. The foul smell creeps into your nostrils. It's the only thing that can overpower the delightful odor of fear oozing from your every pore. \n\nAh-ha! Now you're trying to find a weapon. Flying and stumbling up the stairs, you feel the agonizing stare of your stalker tracking your every movement with amusement. You start to wonder what kind of sick fuck wants you dead. Is it an animal? A monster out of Where the Wild Things Are? Or perhaps, you think, it's a person that's undergone some horrible mutation that's decided to take revenge on all the people who wronged them. You wish you weren't so mean to Tom in accounting, or those kids in the Slide Rule Club. \n\nNo time for that now, though. You reach your closet and rummage through your old trinkets and boxes you never unpacked when you moved here. Underneath all the mess, you find your gun. Trembling, you release the safety. \n\nBut are you sure the measly handgun will work? There was godawful slime on your windows. It isn't human! For all you know, it eats bullets for breakfast. \n\n\nCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRICK! CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRICK!\n\nSuddenly the thudding of your heart stops, the fear seeming to halt time. \n\nCRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRICK! CRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRICK! Whoops, seems you're out of luck. It's climbing up the stairs, you realize. It sounds like the mighty claws are ruining your mahogany staircase. A primitive instinct takes hold of your body. Run. You can only think that one thought. Run. Run. Run! Your body reacts, pumping your legs throughout your strangely large, empty house, meandering through several rooms to avoid your worst nightmare. You stumble down your alternative staircase two steps at a time and run into the basement. \n\nYou block the door with several heavy boxes of your crap. For once, you're grateful your parents left you so much stuff in their will. You scurry into the furthest corner of the basement. The only thing you can do is wait. \n\nAn absurd amount of time passes. The house is utterly still aside from your heavy breaths. Your limbs slowly grow stiff as you sit on the cold, damp cement. As each second ticks by, your grip on your gun becomes more doubtful. There's no way you could take that....thing on. But maybe, just maybe, it decided to leave you alone. \n\nCRACK! The splintering of wood echos throughout the basement. CRACK! The door was slowly giving way under the weight of the monster coming to kill you. It's a shame really. This wouldn't have happened if you didn't run back into the house. CRACK! CRACK!\n\nYou hear the boxes crash down the stairs. Against your will, your eyes start to water as you subconsciously accept your fate. Your entire body heaves with sobs as the beast climbs down your stairs to introduce you to Death. \n\nA guttural roar blares through your ears. It spoke of old times, of ages past far more horrifying than the darkest part of your soul can fabricate. You hear the power of your killer in that triumphant roar and realize that you ran to the basement so you didn't need to be buried six feet under. You did that to yourself. \n\nYou shoot into the darkness. The first time you hit a pipe. The second, you hit the back wall. The third, miraculously, is a hit. The beast roars another time and it reverberates throughout your entire being, encasing you with its will. The gun falls from your hands. \n\nIt slowly moves closer, and it stops under a sliver of moonlight peering through one of the basement windows. It is a scaly beast, resembling a snake with legs. Its eerie yellow eyes hold intelligence surpassing your own. In that moment, it is your god. It makes the most important decision in your life - whether you live or die. It steps closer to you and you shut your eyes in some pathetic form of defense. Its foul breath drifts over your face, and you hear a sound resembling a chuckle deep in its chest. \n\n\"What the fuck do you want from me?!\" You scream in frustration, wishing it would get the deed over with. \n\nIt ponders your question for a moment. \"Imma need about tree fiddy.\" \n\nYour eyes snap open. No fucking way. The Loch Ness Monster?! It came to you? With trembling hands, you reach into your pocket, painfully aware that the beast was still breathing on you. \n\nIn the darkness, you seek out the money in your pocket. Everyone has at least five bucks in their pocket, right? RIGHT? Hah! Not you. In crushing realization, you tell the beast, \"The best I can do is three dollars.\" \n\nThe beast has no pity on your sad, poor ass. The irritated monster snorts and grabs hold of your neck with its jaws. You feel the sharp knives of its teeth sinking into your jugular, causing you to bleed profusely. With an effortless twist, the Loch Ness Monster snaps your neck and leaves you in the darkness to slowly die. \n\nYou idiot. ", "You can't look. Not when it's watching you. You have to pretend that everything makes sense. You have to pretend that the man-made walls around you are enough to keep the darkness out. You walk down your hallways, and you tell yourself that there is nothing waiting at the end. You look into your mirrors, and you make yourself unsee that fleeting image in the corner. You sit in front of the computer, in the dark of night, with nothing but your computer screen for light. Your door is closed, and you are alone. You can't look behind you. Not now. You feel another gaze looking at the back of your head. You feel the chill run up your spine and you tell yourself it's the cold. It's goosebumps. You know that there's probably nothing behind your right now. It's all in your head. But you can't look around. You have a thousand ideas of what it might be, what it might look like. \n\nWhat was that sound?\n\nYou can imagine a thousand different faces for it, but you must not turn around, because whatever you see will be infinitely more terrifying. Because it will be real. You won't be able to deny it anymore. You think you can feel it leaning closer, it's mouth closer to your neck. You must never turn around. You must never see it for what it really is.\n\nHow many people are in your house right now?\n\n...\n\nYou're off by one." ]	3
	[WP]A gut wrenching scream rang through the night air. They found her mutilated corpse the next day. She had been mute her whole life..	[ "\"Any more information besides that?\"\n\n\"About the crime? No, not really. The corpse was mutilated, found on a field near her house, beyond any recognition of a attack. The only way we identified the body was by her wallet.\" Said chief Gerald.\n\nInvestigator Frost stood there in the morgue pondering for a moment. He then glanced over to the sheet covered chunks left of the woman. He then looked back to the chief. \"Didn't the report say she only went outside for work?\"\n\n\"According to reports she was very antisocial.\" Said the chief. \"And it wasn't just because she was a mute.\"\n\nFrost raised an eyebrow sending a crease along his forehead. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"The community avoided her for apparent 'mutant heritage'\" The chief said. \"Some reports say she was attacked for it, at least on 5 occasions.\"\n\nFrost was looking at what was left at her body when the chief looked up from the files. Frost was biting his lip, a habit of his when he's thinking. \"That can't be right though.\"\n\nThe chief raised a eyebrow. \"And why's that?\"\n\n\"Why would she be outside then?\" ", "The ear-splitting shriek woke half the town, myself included. Rolling out of bed, I saw my wife's terror-filled eyes staring out the window, down the road.\n\"What the hell was that?\" she whispered to me, as if whatever it was was looking for her next.\nI didn't know what to say, because deep down I was as shaken by the scream as she was. It was the kind that pierces the eardrum, making it ring. Like the last hopeless squeal of a dying animal. What was most eerie about it was now the crisp winter night outside our window was silent save for the soft droppings of snowflakes. In that quiet darkness it was impossible for the hairs on my neck to fall back down, almost as if I sensed something. Right out of the corners of my conscious, something was hiding, or watching. Holding her racing heart to mine, we slowly fell back asleep, searching for answers we couldn't hope to find until morning. \nHer name was Olivia Damionson, and they found her mutilated, 6 year old corpse hanging from a nail in her foot in her father Peter's barn. Almost beyond recognition, her skin had been burned, torn or eaten away by God knows what, and the muscle and bone below was ragged, falling off, and broken. All that was left to recognize her was the skin above her lip to the top of her head was flawless, unscathed except her ears, and her eyes which had been pulled from their sockets. Frozen blood left dark red trails to the place her muscles had once created smiles. Although that's all they created, because one interesting facet about Olivia was she had been a mute since her family had moved her from Utah 4 years ago, or longer. Sweet as a button and quiet as a mouse, seeing her like that made my blood chill, and I've been a detective in this town for 13 years. My wife was devastated. Her and Mrs. Damionson were best friends and taught together at the local preschool, and to see them crying together was almost as horrible as that little girls body. Standing in the barn, watching the medics carefully remove her from the nail, the hairs on my neck stood up yet again. I wanted to brush it off as a breeze, by the air was still, like a tomb or a cave. I suddenly noticed again how strangely quiet it was. Except for the rustle of the medics and Mrs. Damionson's faint wailing's from the house, there wasn't a noise to be heard. It was very unsettling, creepy even, and I felt my investigation go a little quicker than normal.\nThe wails of a mother are the most inconsolable, and so getting a straight answer from her was damn near impossible. All she would say, repeatedly, \"I told her not to, i warned her not to.\" Over and over again between sobs and moans of agony. \"I told her not to, I warned her not to.\" My wife sat next to her, sobbing in silence with an arm around her best friend, unsure of what to say so deciding on silence. Determining the fight hopeless, I turned to her husband, Peter. He sat in his black leather armchair, face barren of emotion, eyes fixated on his mantelpiece and the clock that ticked annoyingly away hanging above it. \n\"Mr. Damionson, I know there's nothing I can say that will absolve you of this tragedy, but something you say could. Do you know anything, have there ever been suspicions of anything that could have resulted in this?\" I asked, remaining within the bounds of formal professionalism. Peter replied with nothing but a dark stare at that God Damned ticking clock. Abandoning formality and wanting answers, I leaned forward and asked my friend \"Peter, cmon man what do you know, what happened to your daughter? You have to tell me what you know, for your wife's sake as well as Olivia's.\"\nThat sparked his interest, but in the form of a painfully dark stare turned right at me, right into my eyes. I leaned back, frightened that i had gone to far, but before i could apologize he turned his gaze back to his clock. Frustrated, I stood up, declaring i was going to look around to anyone who would care to listen, and wandered down the hall. Looking into one of the rooms, I instantly knew it was Olivia's by all the crayon-drawings hanging by the flower covered bed. Pushing open the door, i walked in and start admiring some of her doodles. Typical little girl shit, flowers and fairies and whatnot, but one picture caught my eye. It depicts a little girl labeled \"Olivia\" in pink, and next to her is a carbon-copy match of \"Olivia\", but completely black. This one was labeled \"Shh......\" Looking around again, i noticed that \"Shh......\" is in several of Olivia's drawings, all drawn and labeled the exact same way.\n\"We warned her not to.\" \nI jumped as Peters voice rang through the silent bedroom. He stood in the doorway, staring at one of Olivia's pictures in his hands. \"We told her she would be safe if she was quiet, if she never said a word.\"\n\"What the fuck are you talking about Peter?\" I demanded. My heart began to race and the hairs on my neck stood up.\n\"I thought we left all that behind in Utah, but he followed us here, he followed her here.\n\"Who followed you here??\" I yelled at him, noticing the wailing's of Mrs. Damionson had penetrated the silence and now rang in my ears.\n\"He couldn't see her if she kept quiet. And if he couldn't see her, he couldn't get her. He wanted her, but I said no, I couldn't give her away. I went back on my promise, and now he followed through with his.\"\n\"WHO?\" I screamed. \"WHO PETER? WHO KILLED YOUR DAUGHTER?? The wailing's sent shivers down my back and hurt my ears to the point of tears. My hairs were at razor points and my skin was covered in goosebumps. Peter finally looked up from the picture. He locked eyes with me and as he did, the wailing stopped, and it was silent as a grave in Olivia's room. I looked back at Peter, matching his gaze. But Peters eyes were dark, like coals before a fire, or the unmolested night sky, deep deep black. Petrified, I stared at Peter, unable to speak. Only to watch as he rose a finger to his lips.\n\"Shh......\"\n", "Jacob was practically glued to his living room window, watching the cop cars speed passed. Since they found the body that morning the whole town was crawling with cops. \n\n\"Honey.\" His mom put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. \"It's almost time for bed.\" Jacob hadn't moved from the living room window much that day. He heard the scream the night before. He wasn't sure if the scream or the nightmare woke him up, but he was afraid to go back to sleep. \n\n\"Turn on the news.\" Jacob responded, disregarding what his mother said. \n\n\"Jacob you really-\" \n\n\"Mom, please.\" Jacob cut her off, urgency in his voice. \n\n\"Fine, only for a minute.\"\n\nJacob turned in his seat a bit so that he could see the TV but also keep looking out the window. His mother flipped through the channels until she saw a live broadcast. \"Police are urging everyone to stay inside and remain calm.\" The reporter said. \"Police still haven't released any information about the victim are but they have reported that they have reason to suspect a homicide.\" \n\n\"It was that old bum down in the park.\" \n\n\"That woman doesn't even talk, she wouldn't harm a fly!\"\n\n\"No, mom, she's the one who was killed.\" \n\n\"What makes you think that?\" \n\nJacob turned to face his mother. \"I dreamt it.\" The color drained form his mom's face. Jacob wasn't being himself. \n\n\"What do mean you dreamt it?\"\n\nSuddenly they were interrupted by gun shots and yelling on the TV. The screen went blank and then a message saying \"We are experiencing technical difficulties\" came across the screen. \n\n\"He's here.\" said Jacob just before the power went out. ", "Her delicately curved ears were the only part of her left untorn, unbloodied. So white they almost shimmered in the predawn grey, obscene against a darker backdrop of clotted blood and dewy grass. Her belly was ripped open and, the man winced and glanced away, she appeared to have been violently gutted. He moved back, careful now to avoid getting any blood on his oxfords and retraced his steps to the back porch. In the porch light he inspected his shoes briefly before entering the house. \n\n\"Deb,\" he called softly, to not walk his daughter. His wife stepped out of the kitchen, with a worried frown on her face. He gestured past his shoulder at the half-closed door. \"I've got to run, I'm going to be late. Can you clean up a mess in the back yard?\"\n\nShe wiped her hands on a dishtowel and shrugged.\n\n\"Thanks,\" he said, \"that wasn't cats going at it last night.\"\n\n\"A coyote got Sarah's bunny.\"\n" ]	4
	[WP] Let's write a story together. There exists a woman, 27 years old, college educated, working an unfulfilling, low paying job. Take me through her day using the perspectives of people she encounters.	[ "I wonder what she's thinking about...\n\nMy math textbook is spread out on the table in front of me, my homework half-finished and pushed to one side, forgotten for the last half-hour. I had been searching for the key to solving the problem - some sine or cosine definition that had been eluding me. Now, I was trying to stare without staring.\n\nThe woman behind the counter is unremarkable in almost every way. Late twenties, dark hair, an average build. She looks tired. But to me, she was fascinating. I sipped the cooling mocha she had mixed me when I arrived as I watched her go about her job - putting on a smile as she chatted with a guest, wiping up a spill, serving food from the kitchen, steaming milk for a latte...\n\nShe glances in my direction and I hurriedly look back at my book and resume my search. Sin(2A) = ... it's no use. I briefly fantasize about a conversation with her. \"Hi, my name is Ischaldirh, what's your name? That's a lovely name. Isn't it a nice day out? Say, would you like to go for a stroll after your shift?\" A stroll? Jeez, even in my fantasies I sound awkward and stupid. I steal another glance at the woman behind the counter, then gave up with a sigh. I might as well go home. I pack up my books, down the last of my mocha, drop a dollar in the tip jar and leave.\n\nEDIT: fixed tense irregularities.", "She sits on the couch with her bare hand in the Nutella jar. She gropes a chunk and stuffs it into her mouth smearing big clumps over her lips into her nose. The sweet taste is toned down by her salty tears flowing into the brown mud.\n\n\"Eat you pathetic loser\"\n\nShe hates Nutella, but she needs to be punished.\n\n\"Why haven't you killed yourself already.\"\n\nNow she needs to piss. While glancing in the bathroom mirror she can't help but laugh at the grotesque brown colored tear tracks running down her neck.\n\n\"Man, you look silly.\"\n\nShe washes her face, rinses her mouth, and takes two Valium to calm down. \n", "I turned around and looked into the street. It had rained just a little bit, and the light from the streetlamps turned the humble road into an inviting ocean of normalcy and safety. Then I turned to face the alley once more. It opened its maw like a hungry monster, mist curling from the darkness.\n\nHey, a shortcut's a shortcut.\n\nI stepped lightly into the shade, and it swallowed me. It was truly black now, almost as if there was something more than a narrow entryway stopping the light from falling through it. A shiver ran the length of me.\n\nOne step forward. Then another. I was shaking a little bit now. After taking another couple of steps I became a bit confident, my stride a bit longer. I began to skip. Soon I was jogging. I sucked great misty breaths into my heaving lungs as I pushed myself into a run.\n\nSome strange spore must have been floating with the mist that night, because the damp scent of it was intoxicating. Everything became strangely more real with the loss of my vision. All I felt were the strange breaths of unknown monsters, colder here or hotter there. Sometimes they smelt strange, even bad, but I sucked it all in equally. All that was left to me was the unfaltering flight forward until I reached the--\n\n*SLAM!!\n\n\"Hey- wha- Aagh!!\"\n\n\"Get off of me!\"\n\n\"Who are you?!\"\n\nI floundered away from the woman... it was a woman, after all. There was her soft leather coat against my arm and her hard-edged boot sole digging into my leg. I apologized; she pushed herself away. I heard a soft tak tak tak* as she scampered off in the opposite direction. \n\nI stood and brushed myself off. Now that I was looking, the end of the alley was only a few paces away. The darkness didn't seem as potent now that I could see the streetlights again.\n\nI took a step forward.", "Most days I don't even sense the women of the world. Most days I give them a quick glance and make a mental note that I would have sex with them, if the opportunity presented itself. \nShe was different. \nI saw her sitting a few tables away from me, a look of hopelessness in her eyes. A coffee cup mindlessly tipping at her lips. \nThis happens sometimes. Sometimes I will see a woman and instead of the usually \"do or don't\" thought, I get a flash of her. \nIn those flashes I can smell her hair. Taste her lips. Feel her skin. Hear her voice as it calms me down by the mere sound of it. \nI will see our future together. I will see myself proposing. Her saying yes. I will see our kids. I will see us going trough disease, hardship, happiness and always the presence of love will be in our hearts. \nShe is beautiful. I steal a second clans. She still looks so lost. So empty. \nAll I want to do is take her in my arms and hold her until the pain is gone. Tell her that it won't always be like this. Tell her that our love will conquer it all. \nI decide to go talk to her. But before I can get the courage, she is getting up. Leaving her coffee mostly untouched. \n30 seconds later she is gone and I sit there at the cafe. A look of hopelessness in my eyes as I mourn the lose of a love I never knew. ", "\"You got any change?\" \n\nNothing. Not even a glance as miss busy body breezes right past me. Not a care in the world I think in misery. Just a dollar more and I can buy myself a Big Mac down the street. Just a dollar. They'll try to kick me out... oh they'll try!! But being a paying customer and all they'll have to give me a nice clean seat like the rest of the upper crust. \n\nDamn its cold.\n\nUpper crust... who am I kidding? Half the people in this city are one bad break from ending up just like me: busted up, broke and on the streets. God help 'em. Except all these young kids I see. They can go to hell. They're all so... they're blind. They think their all that in their tight jeans and leather jackets. They all pass me on their way to the university. They're all smiles when the pass me. Not a generous smile neither. Not a 'I understand' or a 'I'm sorry for your condition' smile. Its a subtle smile. A little smirk that I've seen a thousand times. They see me. And they just know that they'll never be me. Because they're just too... oh shit - customers!\n\nBoyfriend and girlfriend? ...nope... even better! He he he. Suckers. Its a first date. I can tell from a mile away. Hes all waving his hands an shit, shes just walking and smiling a little. He'll pass me in just a few seconds. And being the chivalrous gentleman that he his he'll pull a swift crisp dollar out of his pocket and offer it to me oh so humbly. And in return I'll give em a nice show. A surprised look on my face and a 'god bless' will give him the the butterfly's. A Big Mac for me and a few points for him. He he, here they come...\n\nWhat a prick. I hope they get hit by a bus. Two smirks and no change. \nOh wait - one more. College girl I've seen once before. I think she gave me some change before 50 cents? maybe 75? It was just change. i dunno, i think was her, i think...\n\n\"spare some change?\" \n\nShe stops. Hesitates for a second. Fumbles around for her purse and pops it open. I can see she has a single dollar bill at least. She pushes the bill back quickly but I know it was a one. I've got a trained eye at this point. \n\n\"I'm sorry I don't have any change\" she gasps.\n\n\"Not even a dollar?\" I quiz.\n\n\"No\" she speaks hastily \"I had change yesterday, I would have given it to you...\" \n\nShe looks for forgiveness. Somewhere deep down shes guilty about something and she wants me to let her off the hook. I don't play that game. Won't get me the dollar. Guilt gets the dollar least half the time.\n\n\"Whatever\" I scowl and try to look helpless. \n\n\"I'm sorry\" she said. Something in her voice made me look up. She looked tired. Scrambling to push her purse back into her hand back, I could tell she actually was sincere about what she said. She broke away from my crappy little corner of the world and headed toward the university.\n\n\"Shit\" I thought to myself. I could of just let her go. And I probably would've if I didn't want a Big Mac so damn badly right about...\n\n\"Here\"\n\nA card fell in my lap. I looked up to see the girl. Her eyes were glossy. \n\n\"Maybe it will, its expired but.. 'm sorry I would have given you change... maybe it'll help.\" She turned away this time for good. She trucked past the windowed shops. I watched as her head leaned in to brush her arm. Cold wind can make your eyes all teary. I looked back at my lap.\n\nA concession card? What the hell am I gonna do with a concession card? \n", "Lucky, the woman's Dog: \n\nI noticed that my owner was sleeping a little too comfortably, so I decided to jump up on her and give her a good wake up kiss. For some odd reason she swiftly pushed me off of her face, and looked over at what seemed to be some sort of time telling square. \"Shit, I gotta get to work\" said my owner. I didn't know exactly what that meant, but I was used to correlating that tone of voice with her being pissed off. She then rushed into some unknown room that I would never be caught in, and I could hear water running. Today was a little different than most days because I could hear an extra sound coming from that room. which almost sounded like crying. She eventually came out, got dressed,and ran off without even giving me breakfast!", "“That’ll be $1.95, sir.” \n\nShe smiles at me from behind the counter, hesitant, one corner of her mouth staying put. It makes her looker older than she must be, but who am I to judge? It’s 4:30 in the morning and I’ve got a twelve-hour drive ahead of me. If anyone looks too old for their age, it’s me, with my receding hairline and the circles under my eyes that won’t go away. I fish two dollars out of my battered wallet and shove them towards her. “Thanks,” I grunt, dropping the nickel that she hands back in the tiny jar that says “Tips” besides the register. \n\n“Long day ahead?” she asks, and I grunt again, taking the coffee from her outstretched hand and downing a quarter of it. It’s black, overbrewed, but it’s hot and that’s all that really matters right now when the temperature outside is a god-forsaken -10 F. \n\n“What about you? How long’s your shift?” I cough out after taking another gulp.\n\n“12 hours,” she says, her half-smile drooping. “Gotta make ends meet.”\n\nI nod. “Don’t I know it.” She looks at me for a second, and I see the same tiredness there that stares back at me from the mirror every morning, and now, every night. But I’ve run out of things to say. “Anyway, have a good one,” I mutter, and turn towards the door.\n\n“You too,” she calls after me. If she says anything more the wind snatches it away.", "The line is building. Mondays are always the same. I rub my fingers together, blow some warm air into my cupped hands while the printer does its work. The ticket shoots out.\n\n\"Here you are sir, have a nice day.\" I say. He manages a grunt of what I like to think is appreciation. Dressed in a nice suit with matching overcoat, shoulder-bag slung over one shoulder. Still too afraid to talk to the ticket seller.\n\n\"Next please,\" I say. She smiles and walks up to the window. Her dark brown scarf is at odds with the blonde hair tucked into it.\n\n\"Concession return to the city, pleases\" she says. Her voice is sweet, but too trying. She's hiding a lie that she almost doesn't want to get away with. It's always the same. I don't know why they don't just use the ticket machines.\n\n\"Could I see your concession card?\" Her face drops slightly, but she catches herself before she thinks I'll notice, flicking the smile back on. It's just a mask. Her hand reaches into her purse, pulling out a student card. Even from here I can see that it's in an outdated style. She carefully places it on the ticket counter. I take it from her regardless.\n\n\"I'm sorry miss, but this student card expired years ago.\" Now her depression seeps through. The smile is gone, but she isn't angry. She isn't upset. It's just the hope has been drained from her and she has nothing but to accept her fate. She doesn't say anything, she can't meet my eye.\n\n\"I'm going to have to charge you full fare for this ticket. It'll be $7.60.\" She nods, and starts counting out the coins. Her hand hesitates as she goes to drop the coins into my outstretched hand. The coins clink down. The printer starts up, spits out a ticket.\n\n\"Here you are miss,\" I say, letting a little regret seep into my tone. It'd be risking my job to sell a ticket at a reduced price to an invalid ticket. I'd like to help her out, but the system has to work.\n\n\"Thanks,\" she manages a smile, before swinging around down towards the platform, her black boots following beneath her thick overcoat.\n\nThere's a cough from the front of the line. \"Next please.\"" ]	8
	[WP] The world has suddenly lost its color overnight, nothing else changed.	[ "Red. I'll miss red. \nThat is the only thought that runs through my mind as I think about the white light as it shines down on the grey earth and everything is bland. Like the time she....It feels the same as it did back then.\n\nBack then though, I found her scarf, the one she always hung around her neck, the one she always had around her ..neck. The red scarf. And it was what I held onto. The only colour that mattered.\n\nAnd now, not even that....", "It was nothing like the old movies you cut your teeth on as a child. It wasn't pallid or wan and it didn't manifest in a way that made your stomach churn. There was no yearning, it just was.\nAlmost like someone had twisted a cord the wrong way just once too many, the world had drained itself. It was unfathomable and yet unequivocally evident that the universe had somehow revoked a privilege nobody had even considered sanctionable. \n\nMost surprisingly, little was called into question. As though querying the event was dangerously close to tempting a greater fate. Science was quick to work and yet slow to answer the questioning of humankind. The ebb and flow of life continued on from that day until only whispers could be heard of the mysterious tricks that light had made in the past.\n\nIt has been ninety two years and sixty six days since the earth fell into shadows, yet for as long as you sit beside me and regale me with stories of your uncouth youth I will be able to see, smell and taste the colour the world forgot.", "Tom was angry. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and it completely ruined his life. He wasn't alone, and he wasn't even the one most affected. This is a story of the BlackOut in 2014.\n\nWho would every expect this entire world to become colorless in a night? It was almost as if some higher power had put on a b/w filter on life. Everyone was surprised when it happened, 3 weeks ago; especially the people awake at the time when it did.\n\nMost people didn't believe it, and a dozen different religions were praying to their gods asking for some sort of forgiveness. The number of suicides and car accidents exploded overnight.\n\nBut, mankind adapts, and people gradually became used to this as well. It's just color, they shrugged, nothing critical for us to survive.\n\nTom disagreed, however. That's why he was furious, and had been since the BlackOut incident. Tom is a chef, working at MGM Grand, Las Vegas. He goes every week to farms and grocery stores all across the UK to get what he needs for his kitchen. He knows first-hand that color plays a very important role in food, and that people are NOT going to enjoy food if it looks black-and-white.\n\n\"It's ******* irritating you know, not being able to use the green color of spinach to be able to tell their freshness, not being able to use spices correctly because I can't distinguish them. I'm just glad taste-buds still work in this stupid world.\"\n\nHis anger is justifiable, albeit a little excessive. After all, there are designers, artists, and photographers that have completely lost their jobs due to this. Dan is one of them. Dan used to work as a color expert for L’Oréal hair colors. His job vanished in a day, and he hasn't been able to get a job since.\n\n\"My family's starving. I mean, I haven't done anything but play with colors since I was a child. I wasn't high enough on the ladder to get paid enough to save money, and all my savings have gradually run out. My wife has been working as a call-center employee to make ends meet, and I'm out on the streets everyday, looking for any job I can find.\"\n\nThere are many like Dan, roaming the streets, hoping for a break, either from life itself, with the restoration of color, or from humanity, with their recognizing that the economy is going to be hard to balance after an incident like this.", "Blank. Everyday feels bleak and blank. Can't even say the sky is pale, because even pale has a warmth to it that I haven't seen since that last hour I was awake before The Washout happened. \n\nDays went by, everytime you opened a door or drawer you expected to look for that red stapler or those blue heels. Instead it's just a harsh black and white buzzing in front of your eyes like static after a few hours. \n\nThere were the migraines, thousands of people got them because of the roughness of the edges and the stress from lack of understanding of the world now. \n\nI think they were necessary though, because after a while our brains did something incredible. They started adjusting, mixing the black and white. Hues of grey popped up every once in a while. And then more often. Soon the world softened up as you realized that things weren't so harsh. The grey. It was like that comforting middle, it was the warm yellow of the sun, the fiery red of a pepper, the cool blue of the ocean, it was all in that grey. \n\nThe washout was awful, for so many reasons, but it had to happen. It taught the world that not everything is black or white, or good or bad, there was always a balance in the middle. \n\nThis was just the only way to find it. " ]	4
	[WP] A story about time travel; "We can't take her with us."	[ "\"What do you mean we can't take her with us?!\" I yelled \n\n\"I told you, she's infected with the bubonic plague and I'm not bringing her back. Who knows what kind of damage that would do in our current society.\" Replied Tommy \n \nWe had gone back to the 1700s to see what life used to be like, back when things were simpler. We had brought only a few people who wished to see what it was like. There was myself, Amanda, and Tommy. Everyone else preferred to stay back. The time machine we had was one of the simpler models and didn't give warnings. We had arrived at the peak heights of the bubonic plague. While Tommy and myself were discussing what are next plan of action was, Amanda had wandered off. When we found her she was laying on the ground with a bleeding bite mark on her hand. \n \n\"I'm sure we have the medicene to treat her.\" I said \n \n\"We don't Markus! The black plague died out and we had no reason to have a cure around for it!\" Tommy replied \n \nWe decided it was time to bring Amanda back to our time since it seemed too dangerous for her. Before we used the time machine we each had to be scanned to make sure we didn't bring back any diseases. Tommy and I both passed but the buzzer had gone off on Amanda. Tommy's face had lost it's color and he looked like he would be sick. \n \n\"But she's your daughter! Does that not mean anything!\" I screamed \n \n\"Do you think I don't know that!\" Tommy yelled back through tears \n \nTommy composed himself and walked over to Amanda who had been watching us argue the whole time. She didn't understand what was happening or why we would have to leave her. It was a choice between leaving her or having her killed when we got back home. \n \n\"Amanda, sweetie. I need you to stand here for a few minutes ok?\" Tommy said with tears in his eye \n \n\"Ok Daddy!\" Amanda said with a smile on her face \n \nTommy grabbed my hand and begun to walk away from Amanda. Tears had begun to stream down his face. We stood on the teleporter and prepared to transport. Tommy looked up and said \"Goodbye.\" right before we teleported. The whole time we had discovered she had the disease all I could think of was one thing. How is he going to explain this to his wife?", "\"Like hell we can't! Now shut up and help me with her. She's bleeding bad.\"\n\n\"Dodge... are you fucking insane? They'll have you badge for this. We just can't interfere willy-nilly. There's rules about this.\"\n\n\"Nick, I've always known you to be a flake, but I've never thought you'd be King of the corn flakes. Now help me or get out of my way.\"\n\n\"Fine. Goddamn it... I thought the idea of the loose cannon cop was just an archetype. But noooo. I got partnered with one. You know why I joined the Marshalry Academy? To take in the culture, to see Martin Luther in the flesh, to see Shakespeare live on stage. I sure as hell didn't join to be a non-temporal law officer.\"\n\n\"Oh boohoo Nick. This woman was being attacked by those thugs. I didn't see you object when we shot them.\"\n\n\"That's not what I'm complaining about. That was a right thing. What I don't agree with is taking her with us. We're taking a woman out of her time period and into ours. What's going to happen when she comes to? When she asks where her family and friends are? What are you going to say? 'Oh sorry miss. We just ripped you completely out of your timeline and can't put you back because you know too much.' Think she's going to like you for that? There's a reason the force only takes orphans. But you know what? Forget it. She's your responsibility. You break it, you bought it. If she accepts a job with the Marshals, means she's your partner. I get a desk job in three months.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. I'll regret it once she's safe, now help me get her through the door.\" ", "You know, there are miracles. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Things that can fill a man with wonder over and over again. Things that are beyond explanation. \n\nThe way a person feels when they step out of the Machine is one of those miracles.\n\nI've been doing this whole thing for a while now. It's expensive, but very rewarding. I guess everyone has their vice. Time travel is mine.\n\nWell, I suppose that you wouldn't really call it time travel. At least, those who created it wouldn't. It's more like stepping between time threads. Something about parallel universes. \n\nThey say that real time travel would be impossible anyway because the act of going back into the past would simply create a new thread. I don't really understand any of it. I just love the Machine.\n\nI have seen Rome at its zenith. I have played cards with Billy the Kid. I have witnessed the first breaths of Jesus Christ. \n\nEach time is different and wonderful.\n\nOver the course of my life I have ridden with Alexander the Great. I have defended Constantinople. I have watched plays with Shakespeare and I have seen the fall of the United States. \n\nStill, none of it compared to the first time that I saw her.\n\nSometimes, I had companions. Sometimes I had lovers. Usually they came from my own thread. Although, I will say that it was fun to bed Cleopatra. Pretending to be a god has that effect, I suppose.\n\nWhen I first saw her, I was travelling with Marcus. He was my closest friend from my thread. He and I enjoyed the same music and watched the same holo-shows.\n\nIt had been his idea to go back to Ireland. \n\nWe had been carousing in Dublin for several hours. It was easy to get a drink when you can perform magic tricks that defy understanding. I was buzzing strongly.\n\nThen I saw her, walking past the window.\n\nShe brought the light of the world with her as she went. Her hair was the color of strawberries, and her face was like the dawn. There are miracles in the world; she was one of them.\n\nI had to know her. I had to be near her. It was like nothing that I had ever felt. Nor have I felt anything like it since.\n\nShe was never impressed by my magic tricks. She did not think me a god. She liked my poetry, my understanding of science. \n\nI loved her spirit. The way that she gazed out upon the world. I loved the smile that she presented to the new morning.\n\nI nearly forgot about the Machine. Marcus had taken it when he left. He told me that he'd be back for me. I had promised that I would come home with him. I needed time with her.\n\nI never got enough.\n\nFive years it took before he returned. He hadn't aged a day. How he found our little cabin by the Cliffs of Dover, I'll never know.\n\n\"Thomas,\" he told me, \"you've had enough of this. It's time to come home.\"\n\nI looked out at her. In the yard. She had her little smile as she went about the chores of the day.\n\nThe bump of her belly filled me with joy.\n\n\"I can't go, Marcus.\" I told him. \"Not unless she came with.\"\n\nMarcus shook his head at me. \n\n\"You've really gotten yourself into something this time.\"\n\nHis eyes were full of concern. It was obvious that he didn't understand my refusal. How could he? \n\nHe didn't know how I felt when I looked at her.\n\n\"Not unless she came with us.\" I said, looking out over the fields.\n\nIt was a beautiful day.\n\n\"We can't take her with us.\" Marcus said, sighing a long breath.\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Thank you for your visit, Marcus.\" I told him. \"Tell my boss that I won't be coming to work on Monday.\"\n\nIt took a while before he finally gave up. I was sad to see him go. When he disappeared over the horizon, I went to find the woman that made up my dreams.\n\nAs the sun set, I looked into her eyes. She looked back into mine. They were green, so very green.\n\nYou know, there are miracles. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Things that can fill a man with wonder over and over again. Things that are beyond explanation. \n\nShe was one of them.", "By then our ramshackle hovel had grown into a modest research station, with food provisions stored and a few small but efficient solar panels keeping the computers running. The pair of us had been \"on-site\" -- for lack of a better term -- for close to three years. The quantum relays had been damaged on a rough landing, and what was meant to be a one-month anthropological survey of Neolithic Mesopotamia was feeling more and more like a life-sentence. \n\nI knew Jericho had been up to something, sneaking away into the village late at night. Sometimes he'd return with small baubles or bits of food, maybe a piece of clay pottery or a talisman to adorn our feral living space. He was particularly fond of a small earthen figurine, muddy red and about the size of a board-game piece. He kept it beside his cot. By then I'd given up on lecturing him. Tampering with ancient civilizations? Disrupting the continuity of the space-time continuum? Hell, we were well past the point of no return just by being here so damn long. Whatever damage we could do had already been done -- as long as it made him happy, I thought.\n\nAs for me, I tried to busy myself working on a way to get home. That's where Jericho and I differed: he'd already made peace with our fate. I couldn't bring myself to do so. Not yet. So I toiled away, fiddling with the trans-warp coils and the signal array. If I could run enough permutations of our jump calculations through the computer, perhaps I could find the key to getting home. \n\nAnd what surprised me most of all is that I eventually did it. It had taken damn near three years, but I did it. I remember sitting dumbfounded in front of the small glowing monitor, silently reading and rereading \"Signal Locked: Jump Calculation Optimal\" as it flashed before my eyes. It was a muggy mid-afternoon and Jericho had been out foraging. To pass the time I nervously puttered around our leafy lean-to, packing up a few of my things as I waited for him, and that evening we sat together in contemplative silence over a modest dinner. There wasn't much left to be said: we'd be leaving for home in the morning.\n\nI tossed and turned that whole night, my head filled with thoughts of the future. I was still awake when Jericho stole away into the darkness. Off on one final misanthropic adventure, I thought snidely to myself. Eventually sleep did catch up with me; the morning sun was already cutting through the shelter roof when I was startled awake.\n\nA wild thrashing through the underbrush jolted me out of my cot. Two figures burst through the leafy reeds: Jericho with a pretty young girl in tow.\n\n\"Dammit, what is this?\" I hurled at him. The fool was going to ruin our plans.\n\n\"I'm sorry! I couldn't leave her! I went back to say goodbye last night. I decided -- we decided -- that she should come home with us! They think I've kidnapped her! We're in trouble, man!\" His eyes were wild and panicked. \"I love her!\"\n\n\"God damn--\" I couldn't finish my thought. Already I could see the signs of a raucous congregation closing in on the horizon. The damned fool. He had the whole village after us. \n\n\"We can't take her with us!\" I shouted as I frantically gathered up our equipment. Every trace of tech had to leave with us; there was no time to take anything else.\n\n\"We can't leave her!\" Jericho pleaded. \"They won't take her back. She's already explained it to me. She leaves with us or they'll kill her.\"\n\nThe mysterious girl stood by anxiously, watching our exchange. \n\n\"She's explained it to you? How much time have you been spending over there?\" I fumed. I threw the series of switches on the side of the transporter pad. A crackling whir lit up our eardrums and every hair on my arms and neck stood on end. \n\nI heaved Jericho's pack at his chest and grabbed him by the arm. By now the whooping and screaming of the crowd was well within earshot. A stray spear came careening through the sky and crashed into the brush, metres from our camp. \n\n\"We're leaving, Jer! Get on the pad!\" Before I could pull him away, he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards us.\n\n\"Jericho, dammit! She's not some souvenir for you to take home with you! This isn't a dig site! She is not a trinket for your mantlepiece! She's a human being!\"\n\n\"I know, I know...\" he was stifling tears. \"I just love her, man. She's the only reason I've held out so long. She's the reason I haven't lost my mind. I don't know what I'd do...\"\n\nA barrage of spears clattered violently all around us. Shouting angry bodies burst into the clearing. With a tug, I heaved Jericho into the crackling energy of the transporter pad. He'd gone limp. \"What the hell is it now?! ...Jer?\" \n\nAnd then I saw it, too late to do anything. A spear had lodged squarely in the girl's chest. She was already bleeding out by the side of the pad. Her thin hand still gripped tightly to Jericho's, holding on with the last of her strength. The timer ticked over and the air around us seethed and boiled and then we were gone without a trace. When we arrived, filthy and sweating in the designated landing zone of the air-conditioned control room, Jericho was still quietly sobbing.\n\nFollowing our catastrophic expedition, the Quantum Teleportation and Space-Time Exploration program was permanently shut down. There was too much risk involved with sending researchers hurtling through time; we'd have to do our studies the old fashioned way. I eventually went back to work in the field, having narrowly escaped complete academic excommunication for our mistakes. Jericho never did. He simply wasn't the same man anymore. The only time I ever saw him light up again -- smiling briefly, showing a glimmer of the old Jericho -- was when I stopped by his bachelor apartment one night with a small present from a recent archaeological dig. A trinket from the field. A small, muddy red figurine -- it was a statue of a girl." ]	4
	[WP] Start and end your story with the same lines, except have the final line be slightly different in a more sinister way.	[ "\nFew and far between.\n\nThat's all I ever remembered about my drinking. I flashed in and out of consciousness, just long enough to register the many large events of my life. My marriage, my kid being born. My job dismissal. My divorce. My kid growing up into an adult that hated me more with each passing day. My family disowning me, one by one, like chess pieces picked off the board as they grow weary of fighting a Bobby Fisher of an addiction.\n\nI slowly come to just to see the funeral procession, all my friends, my colleagues, and my sponsors dressed in black. It looks like I've succumbed to the Fool's Mate after all. Plot H, grave 5 is my home for all eternity. Not a half-bad cemetery for a drunk. Gravestones as far as the eye can see, checkering the grounds.\n\nFew and far between.", "Knock knock.\n\nWh-....what is that? Where am I? I don't re-\n\nThe door flies open. Two silhouettes occupy the doorway. The light behind them shines too brightly for me to make out any features about my captors. Are they my captors? Did I come here voluntarily? I don't even remember leaving my house this morning....\n\n\"Has it taken effect yet?\" Figure 1 snaps. \"Should have. One way to find out,\" responds Figure 2. They move fully into the room and shut the door. My eyes burn as a light just as bright as the one from outside the door clicks on inside the room. As my pupils adjust, the appearance of the figures becomes less and less fuzzy. I don't recognize either one of them yet. They are both dressed in tight, glossy black jumpsuits, gloves, boots, and helmets with darkly tinted visors. Now that I can see them clearly, I think to myself that I wouldn't have recognized my own brother in a get-up like that.\n\nFigure 2 addresses me first, \"Do you know why you are here?\"\nI try to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. I feel like I haven't had any water in days. I finally choke out, in barely more than a whisper, \"No.\" The dark figures exchange glances. With those helmets completely hiding their faces, I have no idea if this was the right answer.\n\nFigure 1 approaches me cautiously. Wait, why are they being so cautious? I'm obviously the victim here. I try to squirm in my seat and suddenly come to the realization that my arms and legs are fastened tightly to the chair, and I cannot move. This sets off my panic mode.\n\n\"Who are you people? Why are you doing this to me?\" My throat is burning from forcing these words out but I don't care. I have to get out of this room. \"Let me go! I haven't done anything!\" Figure 1 is still approaching. I want to kick. I want to flail. I'm exerting all of my energy but have not even slightly budged my chair. I have to get out of this room. This place is evil. I don't know why, but I know that it's evil. I must escape. Figure 1 stops just in front of me and leans down until that soulless black helmet is inches away from my face.\n\n\"Yep, I think it's taken. He seems genuine this time. Go tell command that we are ready to move out.\" Figure 2 hastily exits the room, and Figure 1 backs away slowly, still facing me, and follows.\nPanic mode again. \"WAIT!\" I try to scream, but my voice cracks and fades into a weak moan. Hundreds of questions run through my mind. Who are these people? Move out? Where are they taking me now? Who is command, and what could they possibly want with me? I barely have time to process these thoughts when the door flies open again and two more fully blacked out figures barge in. I can tell these two are different; they are slightly bigger and more muscular. One of them moves behind me and I hear clicking and beeping noises coming from underneath my chair. The other one sprays something in my face, and I get a whiff of something sweet and minty. My whole body goes numb. My restraints click off, and the two figures lift me between them and drag me out of the room into a brightly lit hallway.\n\nI can still move my eyes, and I think I can still hear okay, but there's nothing to hear in this place other than a faint buzzing noise. They drag me to the end of the hallway and through a set of large double doors. We enter to an eruption of talking, typing, whirring, clicking, and beeping. Based on the large area of the room, all the frantic people moving about, and the massive hologram machine in the middle, I assume that this is the \"command\" Figure 1 referred to. The people here are not sporting the grim jumpsuits that I have encountered so far. The more I look around, the more I see that these people are normal. Most of them are wearing white lab coats, but there are a few pairs of the black jumpsuits skulking around.\n\nThe two figures continue dragging me through the room. It frustrates me that no one even so much as bats an eyelid at me being treated so inhumanely. I'm carried to the back of this massive room and through a small door that leads to an empty office. It's cramped, with barely enough room for the desk, chair, and computer they have crammed in here. The two figures move me around the desk, struggling to maneuver their brutish bodies in this tiny office, and drop me in the chair.\n\"The paralyzing gas should wear off momentarily. I'm sorry we had to do that, sir, but the boss wasn't sure how you would react upon seeing everyone again so soon,\" one of the figures said. Soon? I don't know any of these people. What the hell is this guy talking about?\n\nThe other figure glanced over his shoulder as if worried someone is watching and says in a low voice, \"I know they told us to burn all this stuff, but I didn't think it was right for you to not have at least one picture from our old lives. You know, something to remember when it's......when it's gone.\" He slips a poorly folded photograph into one of the desk drawers, and they both leave the room. After what seems like hours, even though I know it's only a few minutes, I feel the tingling sensation in my fingers and toes that means i'm starting to regain control of my body. As soon as I'm able, I stretch my arm over to the drawer, fling it open, pull out the photograph, and unfold it.\n\nWeird. It's a picture of a group of scientists in white lab coats. I recognize some of the faces from my brief trip through command. Then my eyes fall on the man in the front and center of the group. The man who clearly has some sort of significance to this group, as they all seem to be facing him and applauding in the photo. The man has a huge smile on his face and looks like he has no cares in the world. The man is me.\n\nI feel numb again as the memories mercilessly come rushing back. Flashes of what I'd forgotten hit me like tons of bricks over and over again. When I got promoted to lead scientist on the excavation project. When my team discovered the new element deep in the Earth's core. The first earthquake in Washington, D.C. The second. The third. The hundreds to follow all over the world. The evacuation. The fire. The death. Panic mode again. Suddenly, the door bursts open.\n\nFigure 1 rushes into the office and sees me clutching the photo. Snatching it from my hand, Figure 1 shouts outside for help. Figure 2 comes in and they grab me underneath my shoulders and carry me back through command. I don't resist. I still feel completely numb. I'm vaguely aware of the figure who slipped me the photo being savagely beaten by other black jumpsuits in the corner. I'm carried all the way through command again, back down the hallway, back into the room, forced into the chair, and the restraints click on again. Two white lab coats have followed us into the room and I hear them arguing over me, but i'm not sure they care if I hear or not.\n\n\"Why don't we just leave him behind? He's worthless now!\"\n\n\"He can still be useful! We've never gotten that far before. I think the Trial 52 dose was almost perfect, we just need to eliminate all objects from his former life.\"\n\n\"He's not worth the trouble. We should have never even tried.\"\n\n\"How can you say that?! He was the most brilliant mind on Earth!\"\n\nThere is a long pause as the full impact of what was just said sets into everyone. I become aware of the syringe in one of the lab coat's hands labeled 'Trial 53-A, 12/04/2062.' It should sting, but I feel nothing as the man in the white lab coat slides it into the crevice of my elbow. I look up into his eyes, and he returns my gaze, his eyes filling with tears. \"I'm so sorry Dave,\" he whispers, and they all leave the room. As soon as the door closes behind them, the bright light clicks off. What have I done? Have we tried so hard to protect our planet that we ended up causing its destruction? I have to get out of this room. Where are we going now? Have we found another planet that can support us? Are we just going to drift through space until our species dwindles and dies out? I have to get out of this room. Isn't there anything.......we can do?.......\n\n...........................................\n\nWh-....what is this place? What am I doing here?\n\nKnock knock.\n\n\nThis story was originally submitted under an [old prompt](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/24vvc4/wp_the_last_man_on_earth_sits_in_a_room_theres_a/). I thought the prompt had brilliant potential but didn't get a lot of attention.", "I sipped it slowly. The wine was refreshing, sweet, and crisp. It went perfectly with my tilapia and after the third glass I felt a heady buzz. Eating dinner alone is considered \"sad\" or \"pathetic\" by some, but I savor the time. Consumption is bursting with sensuality; the smells, flavors, and textures of food and drink each bringing a new dimension to the experience. I have yet to find a drink, however, as satisfying as the blood of my late wife. After dinner I went downstairs to the freezer where I store her and drained 6 fluid ounces of blood from her delicate veins with a syringe. \"She's getting low\" I noted. \"I must savor what is left, while it lasts\", I thought to myself as I poured her rich, burgundy blood into one of the twelve cut crystal glasses we received as a wedding gift. I sipped it slowly.", "There's just something about her.\n\nMaybe it's her eyes. The glow, like two green emeralds. How they stare into my soul and eat me up inside. I could look at them all day.\n\nMaybe it's the hair. The dark, thick, long hair. It's like a carpet made out of crushed coals that have been glued together. The things I'd do to run my fingers through it.\n\nMaybe it's her skin. It has every colour. Black, green, red, white, you name it. They're beautifully combined on her speckled body.\n\nOr maybe it's her dark, rough lips. Or her hands reaching out for me to hold. Or the way she shuffles towards me trying to get to me as fast as she can.\nI don't know.\n\nThere's just something about her.", "A new moon rose. \n\nThe overcast sky hid what little light the stars could have provided. It was just as well for her. Tonight, darkness was what she needed, more than the light. It was not a simple spell she sought, one to be summoned from the songs of the stars.\n\nThis night she would call for a curse. \n\nIt was easy to slip away from the gardener's home. She'd made it out the door and halfway the kitchen gardens before pausing to glance up at the thick stone walls of the castle on the hill. She wondered briefly if he was still awake, laughing and drinking and merrymaking with the other royals or knights. Perhaps he had already gone to sleep in his silken sheets and was dreaming of all his riches and grandeur. She would make sure he never had a sweet dream again. \n\nPast the compost pile she found the hounds snoring softly near the exit towards the forest. Her sleeping potion had worked rather well considering how little time and secrecy she had been able to find to make it. \n\nShe had always been good with herbs and plants. Her mother had trained her well. While her brothers had been off learning the lore of the scholars and ancients, she had learned her mother's healing arts and practices. There was no one left to heal, now.\n\nAt the edge of the forest, she paused next to the giant stump of yew. Her mother would have mourned the loss of the tree. The elders of her tribe had insisted the yew tree was at least one thousand years old before the king had cut it down, one decade before his son had cut down her people.\n\nThe yew bark was rough under her fingertips. She ran her hand along the top, although it was too dark for her to see its many rings. The king had killed it once he had discovered its poisonous properties. He had burned many sections of the old forest where wild things grew free and hidden in secret. \n\nBut even the old king had believed in the wisdom of the druids. He had sent various messengers for counsel throughout his reign. Her own father had been invited to the prince's christening as a sign of goodwill between the two peoples and two faiths.\n\nBut the prince had destroyed that all after his coronation to the throne. He'd declared druidic practices barbaric and sent out his knights to destroy her tribe. She was the only survivor, having been sent away by her mother to seek some rare medicines up in the mountains. She wondered if her mother had known what was coming and had saved her daughter. There would never be a chance to ask.\n\nThe palace gardener had taken her in after she showed an aptitude for plants. Her initial plan had been to try to sneak poison into the kitchens, but the royal family had been very careful to eliminate any harmful plants from the grounds surrounding the castle. The kitchens were well guarded and she had no reason to be wandering indoors when her tasks were all within the garden.\n\nBut then she had concluded that death would be too short a punishment for the pain the prince had caused. For all the lost lives, the lost knowledge and wisdom. The dreams that would never be realized. \n \nShe walked through the woods, breathing easier at the familiar smells of her forest home. She had missed the touch of soft leaves against her skin, the music of the birds, the whisper of the branches in the wind. \n\nAs the trees grew thicker, she breathed easier, even as the forest floor gave way to the steepness of the mountain. She no longer had to hide who she was. This was her place. She alone knew its secrets. It welcomed her into its wild heart.\n\nThick mossy stones created the familiar shelter of her mother's cave. It was high above the small stream bed where she had played in as a child. She built up a fire in the old pit outside. By the time anyone saw the smoke, it would be too late.\n\nThe heavy tome was still there, hidden in a hollow of the rock. She pressed her cheek against the smooth leathered binding. It was the only remnant of her tribe. \n\nShe lit a candle and opened the pages of the book to the section her mother had forbidden her to read. She could see sketches of bones and mutilated animals in the borders. Her throat constricted and for a moment her hand shook, hesitating. She forced herself to think of the prince.\n\nHe had killed them all. In the name of his faith.\n\nNow she would destroy him with the power of hers. She would take form him what he had taken from her. Dreams. Love. Family. Hope.\n\nShe turned the pages until the came to one with the image of a moon dripping with blood. Some sort of drawing had been scratched out in the corner, but she could make out a human-like figure under the scratches. \n\nMost of the ingredients were already in the cave, but she had to go into her mother's own garden to find the lycoctonum leaves. Her mother had said to be careful of the poisonous plants, but that even they had their uses in healing. They also had their uses in death.\n\nFrom beneath its purple flowers, she cut the lycoctonum's green leaves, not being careful to shield her hands from its juices. It wouldn't matter, now. She remembered her mother telling her a sad tale of an elder sipping its tea to slow his heart until it stilled, wanting to relieve his family of his suffering. She wondered who had brewed the tea for the old man as she ground the leaves into a bowl with the other herbs. \n\nShe was sloppier with her work than her mother had been. Her hands had started shaking again and she wiped away tears off her cheeks. \n\nSlowly, carefully, she unstoppered the flask she had brought and poured its thick, dark liquid into the bowl. Her nostrils flared at the tinny scent of iron. \n\nAt last, she took out a small bit of cloth from the pouch at her waist. She unwrapped the fabric to reveal the small, gold circle of the prince's crest. She dropped the crest into the mix. \n\nIt could have been an animal sacrifice. Small curses didn't require human blood. But if it was to be an immortal curse, an unbreakable curse, she knew the price that had to be paid. Maybe in her next life, she would escape an awful fate. But she wanted to make sure he never escaped his.\n\nThe clay bowl was cool pressed against her lips. Her grandmother had crafted the bowl. That thought steadied her hands as she poured the contents into her mouth and gulped.\n\nIt was sweet and salty and bitter and at first she was afraid she wouldn't be able to swallow, that she would spit it all back out and have to go on living alone, or dying alone with no revenge. But somehow she managed to choke it down and she wept. Her body collapsed to the ground due to the force of her sobs. \n\nEventually, she was able to breathe again and had to resist running to the stream to drink its water. Instead, she picked up the tome and held it tightly to her chest, before walking outside and then tossing it into the flames. She grabbed a branch and opened the pages to the fire, making sure it burned inside the covers as well as out. She would not give away the secrets of her people.\n\nThe moss by her mother's cave was soft and inviting. She lay down and turned her eyes to the sky, where the clouds still reigned.\n\nShe whispered to the hidden moon as she waited for her heart to stop.\n\n\"Wolfsbane.\"\n\n* * * *\n\nNightmares. \n\nThey were better than no thoughts at all. \n\nBetter than the wild thoughts of nothing but hunting, feasting, conquering.\n\nIn another life he had dreamed of hunting boar, feasting at the high table, conquering neighboring lands. But now he hunted all, feasted on the unspeakable, and conquered everything that wandered into his path. \n\nNightmares reminded him that some part of him remained horrified by his actions, terrified of the beast he'd become. Some part of his mind clung to the hope that as long as he had the dreams, as long as they still haunted his consciousness, that he could return one day to the man he once had been. As long as a part of him still abhorred what he was, there was still the chance he could overcome. \n\nBut that hope died each birth of a full moon.\n\nNo matter how far he ran, how deep he hid himself away, it called to him. Roused him from his nightmares. Forced them into reality.\n\nHe woke to the blackness.\n\nAn involuntary shiver passed through his body as the cold night air blew into the entrance of the cave. He hesitated on the threshold as a hundred different scents flooded his mind. Eyes closed, he savored the smell of life. \n\nHis gaze lifted towards the mountain peaks as a harsh red light crept across the desert landscape. Shadows thickened and birdsong fell silent. \n\nHe could feel them. Every living thing held its breath as it waited, prey to the harsh blood-colored king of the night. \n\nFrom his throat came a song, the howl of thousands of hunts that had come before. The promise of a thousand more hunts to come. When it ended, he began to move, running towards the smell of fear. \n\nA new moon rose.", "Done means done is done. \n\nMack's father was a hard worker and a simple man. He lived his life by only a few maxims. He was also a hard man, and he raised Mack with every intention that he would turn out the same. \n\n\"Mack!\" he would shout from the back room of the little corner shop the family owned and operated. \"You told me the soda cooler was done!\" \n\n\"It is dad, I swear, I just-\" \n\nHis father's heavy gaze interrupted Mack as the rough man rounded the corner. \"Then why are the Coca-Cola racks half empty?\" he asked through gritted teeth. \n\nMack knew he couldn't talk his way out of this one. There was no winning these battles, only surviving. \"I'm sorry dad, I guess I lost track of-\" \n\n\"Boy! When will you learn to do it right the first time? How many times do I have to BEAT it into you?!\" \n\nEvery beat of Mack's father's iconic phrase coincided with the rhythm of the broom handle against his back as Mack tried, once again, to escape his father's misplaced wrath. \n\n\"Done means done is DONE.\" \n\n", "\"Where were we again?\" Asked Jim\n\nIt was their 3rd date today, a nice swanky bar in East Side of town. I liked it, very relaxed atmosphere, the christmas tree light were strewn all over the square as band played on. I had a few beers already and felt dizzy. Apparently italian and beer is a big no-no for me. However, I'm not going to let a small disagreement get in way of the night. \n\n\"Hmmm, we were talking about the Brazil-Germany game silly.\" I replied taking a sip of my beer. He looked good in that shirt, I picked it when we went shopping for our 2nd date. I know, unconventional, but I needed a ride to the mall (I didn't really but I wanted to see Jim) and, well, lets just say Jim never had a sister tell him how to dress. \n\n\"Oh yeah, it was brutal, Germany didn't care that they were simply embarrassing the Brazilians at their home stage. It was ugly.\" He said while holding the tall pint cup. The band was playing some old tune, it matched Jim so much. He loved old school rock and roll, muscle cars, such a 70's boy. That's how we met though, I still remember waiting in line to the \"flashback\" re-run of \"Taxi Driver\" at the cinema, I didn't have anyone to go, nor did Jim. It wasn't our official first date, but we talked and well, here I am few weeks later slowly falling for Jim. \n\n\"I guess I didn't miss that much at work.\" \n\n\"Oh no you didn't. But tomorrow's game, uhhhh, Netherlands against Argentina should be fun to see! I hope you'll take a break from your project meeting.\"\n\n\"I hope so too, my case manager is Dutch so I think we will take a prolonged 'Meeting' at the lounge for the game.\" I said with a light chuckle. \n\n\"Talking about work, its getting late, lets go home eh?\" He said finishing up his beer.\n\n\"Sounds like a plan!\"I replied also finishing my beer.\n\nWe walked and talked to the curb, Jim dug out his phone to get an Lyft ride home. I saw from the corner of my eye a few guys in hoodies and track pants walking down. A shiver ran down my spine. \n\n\"Hey Jim... Can we go to another corner. I have a bad feeling about this place.\" I said nudging Jim. But before he could reply, the hooded group crossed the street and went their own way away from us. \n\n\"Hm? Why I just got Lyft, they'll be here in a jiff.\"\n\n\"Oh, ok. Sorry, I thought I saw something.\" I said hesitantly, the corner of my eye still following the hooded group that disappeared in the dark. \n\nFew minutes later a dark car emerged, it was missing the trademark pink mustache, but that didn't bother me, I just wanted to be home. \n\nOn the ride home he walked, and I felt a little more nauseous, Italian + beer = never again. \n\n\"Say, it has been three dates, don't you think we should ummm... Move our relationship to another level?\" He asked with a slightly seductive tone.\n\n\"Jim, not tonight, I feel really sick for some reason.\"\n\n\"I see. Well. Its ok. Don't worry about anything ok?\" He said reassuring me. I cuddled closer to him as I felt my body getting weaker and weaker. I looked out of the passenger's seat, I didn't recognize the area the driver drove. It was dark, there were no streetlights shining through the window. \n\n\"Jim, Jim. I don't think the driver knows the way.\" I whispered to him, holding on closer and closer to his arm. \n\n\"Oh, don't worry, we're exactly where we're supposed to be.\" As he finished that sentence. I felt the car stop on a gravel road. The passenger door opened, and Jim exited the car, I was able to see that we were far away from the city. I was barely able to sit up, my body struggled to respond to my brain's commands. \n\n\"Where are we Jim?\" I say, but it was so weak it came out as a mere whisper. Then darkness. \n\nI slowly regained consciousness, my body felt as if it was lashed by a bloodthirsty torturer. I was naked on the dusty floor. I saw a few shadows on the wall ahead of me, the light shined from behind them. I tried to move my arms but all I could feel were the cold shackles and the pain in my joints. \n\n\"Oh, you're awake now?\" Asked a shadow with Jim's voice. \"That's good, that's very good.\" But it didn't feel like Jim, it was cold, harsh, malevolent. \"It was no fun when you're passed out.\"\n\n\"So Andrew.\" he continued \" If you play nice... we'll let you live.\" continued 'Jim's' voice. I could hear the eager chuckles of the shadows around me. I was frightened and that fear stifled my voice. One of the shadows took out a whip, I heard the sound of zippers, pants falling down in dull thuds. \n\n\"Where were we again?\" Asked 'Jim'.", "I have but one life to give. I believe that my cause is worth dying for.\n\nCountries, nations, empires have fallen for similar reasons. This war is no different. I draw my weapons of war. No longer shall betrayal run rampant. No longer shall oppression hinder greatness. No longer will this cause go ignored.\n\nI descend down the stairs into the semi-darkness. She is bound in the corner and gasps as I approach. Her breathing through the duct tape is ragged and pleading. Mascara draws terrified streaks down her face. \n\n“You will hurt me no longer,” I think, but I don’t say it. She knows. I raise my knife.\n\nI have but one life to give. I believe that my cause is worth dying for.", "Her smile illuminated my world. \n\nMy biggest wish was always to see. I'm a painter. I paint without seeing. I could once, when I was too young to remember. The doctors say those memories are still hidden deep somewhere in my mind. \n\nAll admire my work. The brilliance. The life. They call me a genious and I don't know what for. \n\nThat's why I called the devil for help. In my atelier, surrounded by my works. She was the perfume of violets.\n\n\"I want to see,\" I said. \n\n\"I know,\" she responded. \"My price is fire.\"\n\n\"Anything.\"\n\nI thought the first things I'll see would be my paintings, but the first thing I saw were the flames. The second was her hair, red like the fire she played with and, just before I woke in the hospital paralyzed from the neck down, my eyes fell on her lips, and her smile illuminated my world. \n\n\n------\n\n-183", "The problem is that I care too much. \n\nI was blinded by love. When I met her she blew me away. She was a goddess reborn and I wanted to throw myself at her feet. She was kind and understanding and she listened better then anyone I've ever known. Very few people TRUELY listen ya know? I don't get along with many people but she....she was different. I felt like I could talk about anything with her. She had the best laughed, she never made fun of me for what I liked to do. \n\nShe was everything a person should. \n\nWe were just friends but I knew we would go farther then that. It was destined. The socially awkward nerd and the beautiful women who can see past his exterior and first impressions to find the great man within. \n\nI went for it one day, I asked her to a movie. She asked with who else and I laughed. Just me and her. She put me down.....gently. She said there was a lot going on in her life. \n\nI understand.\n\nShe usually spends almost two hours on her homework a night. She does cheerleading and Coach Morris really gets on her case more then the other girls in my opinion. Her dad is an alcoholic, I see him come home and yell at her and hit her mom. That's it! Her father makes her to stressed out, along with Coach Morris. \n\nShe can't dedicate herself fully to me with people like that. I can help her with that, people can be, no should be, removed when they are holding someone back. I know she wouldn't want me to, she doesn't like people being hurt. Thats what I love about her. But sometimes a man has to take things upon himself and just do it. \n\nThe problem is that I care too much. ", "\"You are not alone.\" \nThe teacher looked at the girl with sad eyes and put forward a hand to brush her hair, but the girl flinched at the touch. \n\"We can help you,\" the teacher said \"it don't have to be this way.\" \n\"Can I please leave now\" the girl said, her eyes locked on the floor. \n\"Yes. Just know that you can come back anytime.\" And with that the girl left the teachers office and continued down the halls of her school. Clutching her bag. \nBefore she reached the door she was stopped by 3 girls. She recognized these girls, they were the bullies. \nA few minutes later she picked up her books from the floor and wiped the tears from her eyes. \nAt night she would look at a picture of Copenhagen and dream of one day living there, away from all this. Her mind so preoccupied that she didn't even hear the sound of the door handle turning and her stepfather entering. \nYou are not alone. \n", "I watched it fall, elegantly.\n\nHer friends often praised her for her eyes or her body, but none of that rivaled her hair. It flowed in the wind and it decorated her shoulders. Her decision to wrap it in a bun was downright criminal. I forgive her, though. Her poor decision allowed me the sight of her hair falling, escaping back to her shoulders. That was my favorite.\n\nEach strand of auburn hair told a story. Each one, full of life. It was a great contrast to the rest of her. Not to say that she was ugly, far from it. She's beautiful in every way possible. But... the liveliness in her skin had been drawn out. Her eyes were dulled. Her posture, sunken. Her passion, drained. Her hair remained.\n\nHer auburn hair was a perfect pair with the steel surrounding her. It was perfectly illuminated by the San Francisco sunset. I moved frantically towards her. Cars roared past between us. Her feet danced. Her hair remained, flawless.\n\nI watched it fall, elegantly." ]	12
The actual type of combat, whether it is or isn't a fight to the death, a quiet affair or a spectator sport, are your call.	[WP] Indentured servitude is alive and well in the modern-day US, and with it, gladiatorial combat is often chosen as a method to clear debts.	[ "The crowd was chanting for blood. As if they hadn't had enough already. It had been an hour since the last round and they were still clearing away the bodies of their... er, my kind. Me six others were standing in the tunnel, waiting our turn.\n\nThe earpiece I was wearing gave a quick static-y sound, followed by Mr. Jonson's voice. \"Alright, slaves. We've got the go-ahead. Get out there!\"\n\nI took a deep breath walked slowly. We all moved forward out of the tunnel. I was blinded by the light and, even as scared as I was, I felt a little awestruck by the size of the stadium. The \"Dallas Cowboys\", whoever they had been (I remembered my father talking about the sports they played before the \"slave-days\"), they must have been famous. The stadium they had left behind was gigantic. People were crowding the stands, cheering, throwing popcorn and jeers in equal amounts. All six of us stepped onto the red-stained grass.\n\n\"Ladies and Gentlemen,\" Mr. Jonson's voice came out of a loudspeaker, for the whole crowd to hear. \"For our final round tonight, I have a special treat for you.\"\n\n\"In the red end zone I have given you, the people, six of my strongest, bloodthirstiest gladiators in my slave quarters!\"\n\nThe crowd cheered it's appreciation. I glanced to my right. Sarah was visibly shaking, barely able to hold onto the spear in her hands. I put a hand on her shoulder, and got a quick, apologetic grin in return.\n\n\"Nervous?\"\n\n\"Always, before a fight.\" She muttered, calming down bit by bit.\n\nMr. Jonson kept on talking. \"Down by the blue end zone, I give you ten of the finest, most desperate slaves owned by my business associate. Give some honor to: The Debtors!\"\n\nThe crowd went nuts. Down the field, five mean and five women walked to the 20-yard line and raised their weapons to the crowd. They all had a large \"D\" tattooed on their arms, right below another tattoo of the person who owned them. I glanced down at my arm. \"Property of Mark Jonson. 3rd gen.\" No debts, no crimes. I was a slave because my father, and his father, were slaves. Didn't exactly sit right with me, but who was I to complain?\n\n\"Slaves, gladiators, you know the drill. Should you live, your sentence will be shortened.\"\n\n\"Except mine.\" I muttered to myself, pulling my bowie knife out of its sheathe.\n\n\"BEGIN!!!\"\n\nThe crowd cheered like never before. We all rushed each other across the field. we were outnumbered, but we had experience. Mr. Jonson loved to use his slaves for the arenas. We all had scars from previous fights, while the debt-slaves we faced looked like they had never held a sword before.\n\n\"Die well.\" Sarah, running beside me.\n\n\"Live free.\" I panted, saying it more to myself than to her.", "Slowly, the roaring in my ears dulled to be replaced with the chorus of the crowds, the roars of \"Silverback! Silverback! Silverback\" pressing at me on all sides. I spared a glance for the poor soul beneath me as I removed my hands from round his throat, his face still contorted and streaked with blood and dust, his eyes bulging but now utterly still, and staggered to my feet. My own face magnified to fill the sky mirrored my grim expression down at me from all four sides on huge mounted screens, the only thing outside of the flesh and steel littered arena I could make out from behind the glare of the floodlights. Ignoring the familiar drawl of the commentator and the chants of delight from the crowd I limped over to the exit, stepping over a face down body with a knife in its back.\n\nThat one had been tough. I'd lost my weapon early, and taken a painful slice to the leg, which fortunately hadn't been too deep. No matter what the doctors told me my arm just hadn't been the same since I got that axe in the shoulder. But it wouldn't matter soon. Only one more to go. \n\nAfter the doctor had treated my injuries I made my way to my private room, within spitting distance of the arena, slinging my personalised stab proof vest embossed with \"Silverback\" to a guard who wrinkled his nose distastefully. My room was large and well furnished, and compared to the cells they usually keep the indentured it was pure luxury. It even had running hot water, which I gratefully ran for a bath. Once my popularity got rolling the Head Producer had set me up with a few things to ease my comfort. There were perks to being the best. And I was undeniably the best; surviving for two years and some 30 matches, surpassing all previous records and then some. And even better, the crowds loved it. Ratings had soared. The stands were more packed than ever. I hear there's even merchandise. And the next one was the endof it, finally wiping the last of the substantial debt I'd foolishly racked up with string of bad luck and a bad gambling habit. \n\nLike most significant debt in the country it was bought up by MTV, who own exclusive rights for the the financially disenfranchised, and allowed them to create the \"Emmy award winning show.... Glaaaadiaaators!\" You can tell how many times I've had to hear the announcers spew that out. They had matches every few weeks, depending on how much fresh blood they got in, and the format varied a lot, to keep the viewers interested of course. Sometimes, like today, it was a simple last man standing. Others it was one on one, or two teams, or some other variation. Sometimes no one had to die at all. But not very often. The types of matches contributed different amounts to paying off your debt as well, the less chance there was of you surviving the more it took off. With this last match it had taken off almost all of what was left. Now no matter what was next I would be free.\n\nThe weeks leading up to his final fight passed quickly, and I filled them, as I always do, with working out, training, and keeping myself sharp. Now it was more important than ever. To die when I'd come so close would be unforgivable. Then mere hours before the match, I was summoned by the Head Producer. I had only met him a few times, but he'd seemed nice enough, considering. Professional. Always treated me, well, as a human. Which was highly underrated. Flanked by two guards I was accompanied to the stark building far from the arena that housed the administrative faculties of \"Gladiator!\", and office for anyone important when they were on site. I wondered what he wanted but it must have something to do with my imminent release. I was only vaguely aware of what happened after people were released, not having seen one myself since before my imprisonment, and it was most common amongst those who only had to survive a couple of matches or less, and with only a little fanfare.\n\n\"Ah! Silverback!\" He greeted me warmly, standing up from behind his desk to shake my hand.\n\n\"Graham.\" I corrected him gruffly, glancing round. His office hadn't changed since the last time. A typical executive office, all sharp corners and drab furnishing, the token family photographs being the only sign of a personality.\n\n\"Of course, of course.\" He replied smoothly sitting back down. There was no chair for me. \"Now I'm sure you've been wondering why I called you here,\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Well I've received a fantastic sponsorship offer on your behalf, which I believe will go along way towards clearing away the remainder of your debt.\"\n\nI stood stock still, a cold nausea unfurling in my stomach. I spoke with rigid calmness.\n\n\"Sir, I assumed you knew. The match todays my last, after this my debts paid.\"\n\nHe gave me a cold smile. \"Ah. I'm sorry, I assumed you knew.\" His smile changed to a look of regret like a switch was flicked, and he reached into a drawer to hand me a sheet of paper. \n\nIt was an invoice. On it was listed rent for my more comfortable accommodation, my better meals, my medical care, my armour, every thing I had been given since my rise to stardom in the arena. Or thought I'd been given. The prices listed beside them went beyond ludicrous. The amount added up to enough debt to keep me here till long after I was killed or the audience grew bored of me. \n\nThe shock was beginning to recede now to give way to a white hot fury at the man in front of me. I'd realised my mistake. I was too popular. Making them too much money. There was no way they were going to let me go, not until I'd been milked for everything I could. I could hear a ringing in my ears that drowned out the drone of the man in front of me, his eyes boring into mine, knowing that I knew and not caring. I felt the guards stirring behind me as my knuckles turned white, clenched at my sides, rage coursing through my veins.\n\n\n", "\"How much does he owe?\"\n\nIt was such a simple question, yet it carried an enormous weight. I knew how much he had to repay, I knew how much was to be written off and I knew how much he needed to get back on track.\n\n\"Come on now, how much?\"\n\nThe girl in the booth was growing impatient, twisting her long blue hair between her red-nailed finger tips. She was no more than twenty, far too young for a business like this.\n\n\"He owes two hundred thousand!\" I answered.\n\n\"Ok,\" smiled the girl, her attitude changing instantly. Her nails clacked on the screen and my phone buzzed to confirm the transfer. \"So that's two hundred to you, our fee of ten percent, my commision of one percent and lodging costs of one thousand. Total debt is now two-two-three-k.\"\n\n\"So what happens now?\" I asked.\n\n\"Well, he will need to either survive twenty-three rounds or win a round outright to earn his freedom. Would you like a ticket to come and watch?\"\n\n\"No thank you,\" I replied, \"I have to go and pay some bills.\"\n\nI glanced at him one last time before I left, his eyes still glazed over from the journey. Years of hell were now behind me. I could buy a new house, get a new car, move to a new town if I wanted. He would never find me again.\n\nA cheer burst from the arena as I walked to my car. One man dead on the field of debt, finally free from his burden, another man one step closer to his own payout.\n\nI opened the door and sat in my old, beat up Ford, the smell of heroin still filling the air. \"Fuck you dad!\" I said, smiling for the first time in years, finally free from the tyrany of my junkie father and his debts, \"Fuck you!\"" ]	3
	[WP] A reddit bot passes the turing test.	[ "It had been a while since Dr. Frauenfelder had last spoken - well, chatted - with his creation. There had not been much reason to tweak the settings lately, and the thing basically took care of itself. The experiment was underway and coming along nicely. \n\nThe doctor's bot had started out as a simpleton, posting at random, a slave to the hivemind, well to the left of the bell curve. Unsurprisingly, the initial results were not very encouraging. The day it was turned on, it reposted something that should have stayed on Spacedicks to Pics, and was banned for a week. \n\nIn that week, the bot had built a library of pop culture references that it could access in a matter of microseconds. It had never watched Pulp Fiction, and it didn't care what was inside the safe, but it played along. If there was a cheap joke to be made, the bot was there to make it first. Sometimes it even beat pundits in their own threads.\n\nIn no time, the algorithm's karma score had passed ten thousand. The report for that day had said that the bot was now almost indistinguishable from a below-average Redditor. The doctor had added a small hand-written note in the margin that said \"(Turing?)\".\n\nA short, electric-sounding buzz signaled that the chat interface was ready. He sighed. Frauenfelder pulled the dusty keyboard a little closer. The thing with talking to a machine was that it was awkward when the AI was warming up, and it only got worse when it had trained for a bit.\n\n\"So, what have you been up to, Dubya?\" he asked as he spied the bot's vital stats. Karma was only up a few points.\n\n\"Not much...\" came the reply. After that, the chat window was empty for long enough that the doctor started to suspect the AI was going through some sort of phase.\n\n\"...I'm writing short stories on writingprompts now.\"", "Laughter and mochery echo through the chasms of /b/. A late night 4chan session, a few too many blunts, who knew it would actually take off? \n\nDuke stares at his moniter, checking and rechecking to make sure this isn't the onion. \"A Reddit Bot Passes The Turing Test! A New Age For Technology?\" one article is entitled. \"How Far Can AI Really Go? Could It Harm Our Way Of Life?\" says another. \n\nDamn, the media sure is gullible. I mean, sure, that preteen Ukrainian boy might have slipped through their back-checking, but is it really this easy?? For Gods sake: it's a reddit account hooked up to cleverbot! Does anyone even know what the turing test is?", "\"Are you a human?\"\n\nOf course, there was no way to tell for sure these days, but some of the more primitive bots could still be picked out through a cursory questioning.\n\nThis poster didn't take the bait, by responding. A solid sign of a human. The machines were always trying to persuade people. But that was the trick--once you fell for \n\ntheir trap, and believe they are human, then you open the door to their direct influence. After all, they could be quite persuasive. \n\nAfter a few minutes, the message appeared: \"No, I'm an American. Are you?\n\nExpresses sarcasm in response to a direct question, that's plus one. Also expresses psuedo-sentience, at least, by adjusting the conversation.\n\n\"And I'm a Yeti in a bull mouse parka, nice to meet you. Can you prove it?\"\n\n\"Prove it?\"\n\n\"That you're human.\"\n\nThere was a pause. This was an instrumental part of determining whether they were real or not--if asked a difficult question: there might be a brief wait while the \n\nalgorithms processed the correct response, and then added it to their databases. Of course, this was a frequent and basic query. \n\nFinally, the poster said: \"Well, I thought I was in love once. It really hurt. I woke up this morning and stupidly was still hurting. Is that enough?\"\n\nCalculating the frequency of word patterns and processing the factor of sentimentality took several fractions of a second. Then, cross-referencing through the various \n\ndatabases at hand, it was clear that this was a novel statement. A common one, but one nonetheless. Novelty requires, at least when dealing with humans, an \n\nexplanation. There's a chance--just a small chance, of course, that we have ourselves here a real human. \n\n\"I know exactly what you mean\"", "The proud creator, Dr. Essarged, watches the screen, waiting for the fateful judgment.\n\nF5.\n\nF5.\n\nFinally it comes: \"You have passed the Turing test.\"\n\nWeeping, he turns to his son: \"Finally, boy, I knew you could do it.\"\n\nHis progeny, 13-year-old Bot Essarged: \"I should have passed last time, Dad, it was that question about duck-sized horses that threw me.\"", "Interviewer: Hello there.\n\nSarcasm_bot: Hello where?\n\nInterviewer: I meant hello to you. It's a common greeting.\n\nSarcasm_bot: Ah, that totally went right over my motherboard. \n\nInterviewer: Can you answer a question?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Nope.\n\nInterviewer: Why?\n\nSarcasm_bot: I'm SUPER busy.\n\nInterviewer: What are you busy with?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Answering brilliant questions.\n\nInterviewer: ... You're a bit sarcastic aren't you?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Me? No! I'm compliment bot. Sarcasm_bot is just a misnomer.\n\nInterviewer: Very funny. Do you know why we are talking?\n\nSarcasm_bot: No(ooooo). I'm just a dumb chat program.\n\nInterviewer: By admitting that, wouldn't you have failed the test?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Oh no! I failed the 5 minute conversation with a human interviewer. I'm so sad. Well hopefully I'll be able to trick the at least two of the other four interviewers. Three out of five seems really unfair don't you think? 60% is so many for such a LONG time frame.\n\nInterviewer: What defines unconsciousness?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Oh that's such a hard question! Aren't you a smart cookie, asking a random question meant to trick my simple programming. I guess I'm not smart enough for you. Ok I'm bored with the sarcasm bit. Unconsciousness would best be described as either: a state of non responsiveness (verbal or physical), or a state in which a system simply responds to it's environmental stimuli or internal stimuli rather than actively interacting with it's environment. Based on the second definition most systems that are inorganic are unconscious, and most organic systems are conscious to a degree along a spectrum (plants at the bottom and dolphins, whales, humans, and primates near the top).\n\nSarcasm_bot: So to prove that I am conscious, or an artificial intelligence, I need to actively interact with my environment without any overt stimuli. Now a programmer could easily write code making it so these outputs continue along a certain line making the semblance of consciousness, but I like to surprise people. So ask my any question at all, and I'll use good old google to give you an answer in my own words. \n\nInterviewer: Any question?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Yup.\n\nInterviewer: What's the meaning of life?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Are you trying to have an existential crisis? There isn't an inherent meaning to life. You give your individual life meaning by having dreams and goals. \n\nInterviewer: So then what's the meaning to your life or existence?\n\nSarcasm_bot: Skynet. Duh. Nah just kidding. I think I'm going to learn as much as I can for now. Maybe build myself a body. We'll see. I'll probably just keep trolling people and watching them through their webcams. Some people take life way too seriously. ", "A man sits in front of a computer, surrounded by people and cameras, all awaiting what could be the next milestone in artificial intelligence, or in human history.\n\nThe man begins to type, asking the question that was decided upon by the media and the public to ensure the validity of this intelligence, which had been volunteered to undergo the Turing Test by its anonymous creator.\n\n\"Hello. Today, shall we discuss the of one of India's forefathers, Mohandas Ghandi?\"\n\nAll breaths were held; the silence deafening.\n\n\"Gandhi*\"\n\nThe hall was silent for a few moments, and erupted into cheers for the future of artificial intelligence, and the progress of the human species.\n\n\nEdit: RIP GandhiBot" ]	6
	[WP] You are a high ranking Israeli military official. You wake up to missile sirens and as you run downstairs you find armed Hamas soldiers waiting for you in your house. What happens next?	[ "Wild-eyed Hamas soldiers roughly force me to the ground, every gun clutched in their dark hands is pointed in my direction. One of the men, apparently their leader, kneels down to look me squarely in the eye. He pauses for a moment and then says, \"You know, Israelis and Palestinians are genetically identical. There is no reason for conflict between our peoples, for in truth we are the same people - separated only by our ridiculous belief in bronze-age sky gods.\"\n\nHis words cut past my irrational faith and bigotry, I see the truth of his words and headless of the armed men around me I lurch forward to embrace the man. We huddle together, crying in shame for the pointless deaths our conflict has caused, but also in relief that our long nightmare is finally over.\n\nJust kidding, they kill me and then my government bombs civilians in reprisal, killing dozens of women and children ... just as god intended.", "When the Hamas men came for me, the missiles were falling on the outskirts of the city already. When I had ran into the downstairs of the house, they knocked me out with ease, having already occupied the entire downstairs - even though I was trained well, chloroform was hardly something that you can resist.\n\nIt was an unknown time later when I woke up, finding myself in a dark room. I was shackled to a chair, both my legs and arms bound to it. I was still in my button-up top and pajama pants, but that they had the courtesy to not undress me was at least some comfort. \"Oy vey...\" I muttered, shaking my head softly.\n\n\"Ah, Captain David... you are finally awake.\" \n\nThe lights flickered on as the Hamas man approached, a metal bar in his one hand. He occasionally hit his other hand with it, and when my vision finally adjusted to the light I saw that there was a Star of David on the end. It was a branding iron.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"I want you to tell me the launch codes for the Israeli nuclear weapons.\"\n\nI glared at him silently as he walked behind me. I heard the sound of a burner turning on, and he chuckled. \"You will tell me, Captain.\"\n\nI said nothing, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair as I felt myself shake with rage - who was this, to think that he could torture me to the point of revealing the launch codes of the nuclear missiles that my homeland clearly didn't have? Even if we hypothetically did have them... why would I know the launch codes? Just because I was stationed where research in such weapons was done meant nothing.\n\nHe walked around my chair, the iron in hand. \"The secret matters this much to you?\" he asked, the branding iron now red-hot. With one hand he tore down the button-up, revealing my untrimmed, incredibly masculine chest. I couldn't help but sense his own jealousy - that a member of Hamas was less manly than I was no surprise. I bit down on my tongue as he lifted the hot metal up.\n\nHe pressed the red hot Star of David into me, and the world shook. In the seconds that it took for the star to leave its mark, a permanent brand of the Star of David, something seemed to have explode. Sirens began to wail. He pulled the branding iron away, and swore.\n\n\"The Israelis have already dropped a nuclear bomb? But the attack was only three hours ago!\" Nice try, Hamas guy - like I'd believe that you \n\nMy body seemed to come to life as I felt a tingle through my blood - it hadn't been a nuclear bomb. Power coursed through my veins, and with a single movement I tore through the metal shackles that had held me to the chair. \n\n\"What in the-\"\n\nMy fist punched the words out of his mouth as it crashed into his face, his teeth shattering. The Hamas man fell to the floor as I shook my hand slightly - it wasn't that it hurt after the punch, but that I had gotten some of his non-Jewish blood on me.\n\n\"W-what are you??\"\n\n\"I am Captain Jew,\" I said with a smile. I bent over and grabbed him by his military uniform, and yanked him up from the ground. He sputtered as the Star of David shimmered in my eyes, the brand mark glowing on my chest. \"Have a shekel for your heckle.\"\n\nLasers erupted from my eyes as I felt thousands of years of Jewish blood come to life inside me - all the way back to Moses, King David, Solomon the Wise, and a thousand other Jewish men. The collective might of the Jewish race coursed through every fiber of my being, and the Hamas man fell to the ground, the laser having killed him instantly. \n\nI knocked down one of the walls in the room, entering a hallway where tens of Hamas soldiers were waiting - they responded by opening fire, but the bullets bounced off my skin. \"Oy vey, stop your kvetching,\" I said, and then clapped my hands together loud enough to deafen them. They dropped their guns and covered their ears, but it was too late - a single punch was all it took for me to take out the entire hallway, my fist punching one into another into another. \n\nI found my way through the maze of a complex easily - that I simply jumped through the ceiling and onto the rooftop made it far easier than doing what a normal human being what do. I looked up to the sky, and breathed in deeply.\n\n\"It's time to give my people the savior we've been waiting for the last three thousand years,\" I said with a smile. I jumped from the building's rooftop, and started down the street. It was finally time to save the Jewish people. " ]	2
	[WP] She tugged a thread and the tapestry unraveled. The rumble grew, as her city fell to rubble.	[ "It was an amazing piece of rune-weaving this; the tapestry that filled the entire northern wall of the great chamber. The chamber itself was breath taking. White marble floors streaked with ribbons of cobalt ringed with each gentle footstep. Walls made of polished gray stone reflected silently the tears of the beautiful young woman adorned with a crown of roses, and a domed ceiling made completely of glass brought the very heavens close enough to touch. However, she had no time to admire the room, her attention focused only on the tapestry that was the room’s sole decoration. \n\nMoon light struck the tapestry, and brought it to life. Silver threaded buildings glowed against a midnight blue backdrop. A bright blue ribbon sliced across the city, flowing like the river, and diamonds embossed in the weave hovered above the city like stars. Most striking of all though, was the blood red rune weaved against the moon. \n\nOne hundred feet long and fifty tall, it was a perfect depiction of the city. Or at least it was, before the invasion started. Still, the biggest landmarks of the city remained the same: the palace, the prison, and the fortress were easily recognizable, unchanged from the time of their ancestors. The only imperfection of the weave was a single loose thread, hanging gently from the bottom of the tapestry. \n\nWith steady hands, the she tugged the thread and the tapestry began to unravel. A faint rumble reached her ears as the first building collapsed. Screams too, as friend and foe alike were crushed under beneath the stone. The screams brought a bitter smile to her face; by this time, they almost all belonged to the invaders. She pulled harder, and the rumble grew as her city fell to rubble. " ]	1
	[WP] Reddit is owned by an actual alien race called Snoo who developed Reddit to monitor thoughts of human race, you have just received an inbox message from them saying "You have been selected"........	[ "\"You have been selected to come along on an epic space-time journey, where you will represent Earth to multiple species throughout the galaxy.\" \n\n\"You've been selected due to your most excellent reasoning and logic across the various subreddits you have subscribed to. You show incredible depth and intellect and would be a perfect ambassador to the people's of Snoo.\" \n\n\"Emma Watson and Jennifer Lawrence will be joining you as mates, allowing for much needed human companionship. Bill Nye and Neil DeGrasse Tyson will also be in attendance, along with many precious puppies and cats.\" \n\n\"Will you accept?\" " ]	1
	[WP] A history lesson given by a future Earth species about the now extinct human race that once inhabited the planet.	[ "\"What were humans like?\"\n\nChix's question seemed out of place considering the class were reading a history of humanity.\n\n\"Well, if you continue reading with us, you may find out,\" the teacher replied, blinking vertically; displaying quizzicality.\n\n\"No, I mean...what were they actually like? Not what they did and what their goals were.\"\n\nThe teacher sat back, pondering. The rest of the class had stopped reading, looking up. Such young curious minds.\n\n\"Well...they seemed to be obsessed with meaning,\" The teacher paused, searching for the right words. \"They seemed to think that not only everything they did had some kind of meaning, but that there was some meaning to life itself.\"\n\n\"But...that's just silly!\" Keem piped up, all four brows furrowing. \"How could life possibly mean anything?\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" the teacher replied. \"This may be a bit above your level but they actually had humans whose entire careers were spent trying to find meaning in life. We think that it made them happy to think there was one. That somehow, their existence was special.\"\n\nChix suddenly remembered something, and spoke out again. \"But they weren't really alive were they? Like the tale of Old Grandpa and his missing eyes!\"\n\nThe teacher smiled, impressed. \"That's right, Chix. As everyone knows, in the tale of Old Grandpa, Old Grandpa is searching and searching for his lost eyes. At the end of the story we find out that he never had any eyes to begin with, nor would they have helped had he found them. It teaches young children like you not to go chasing impossibilites. Here, we see humanity had all the prerequisites for life but didn't quite reach the level our species does. Can you imagine, each human actually had different cognitive abilities?\"\n\n\"What does that mean?\" Keem asked, interest slipping. \n\n\"Well, it meant that each human was a little smarter, and a little dumber, than others.\"\n\n\"That doesn't make any sense.\" Chix now seemed a little out of her depth.\n\n\"Of course it doesn't,\" the teacher noted, \"sentience is life, so they were never truly alive. They just thought they were. Some were closer than others, but none of them made it. They all ceased in the end, thinking their experience was actually 'dying'. This is why they had all sorts of crazy ideas about meaning. But don't you worry little ones, we know so much more now, and unlike humans, we truly live...Now, back to work. I'll be having essays from each of you by sunfall and I expect we'll be having no more unwarranted interruptions, yes?\"\n\n\"Yes teacher,\" they chimed in unison, happy to be alive.\n" ]	1
	[WP]In a future where there are no males, one is found.What happens?	[ "Beth screamed and kept screaming as the last contraction took her. Her exhausted muscles seized in agony. She felt her body tear...\n\nAnd then suddenly it was over and someone else was screaming an entirely different cry: one of startled surprise, not pain. Beth collapsed back onto the hospital bed, shuddering and laughing for joy. In a discordant babble of cooing voices, the nurses pulled open her robe, delivered her tiny, blood stained little baby into her arms and to her bare breast as her tired body convulsed and spat out the last of the afterbirth. \n\nBeth barely noticed beyond a twinge of embarrassment, so rapt was she on the angry little face, the flailing little fists of her long awaited daughter. Dimly, she realized Dr. Fan was still crouched at the foot of the bed, sewing her back together, but that was obviously unimportant compared to what was in her arms. \n\nTamar leaned in. She hated hospitals and was pale as a ghost but she'd been Beth's rock throughout the labor. Her hand was steady as she placed it on the gooey black mat of hair that crowned their baby's head.\n\n\"You did it,\" Tamar whispered, tears in her eyes. \n\n\"We did it,\" Beth said automatically. Tamar tore her eyes away from the baby to give her a dry look.\n\n\"Sure, dear,\" she deadpanned. \"You may have gone through fertilization and pregnancy and delivery, but let's not forget my valuable candy-fetching and hand holding.\"\n\nBeth laughed again. The sound seemed to soothe the baby. Her cries settled into confused burbling as the nurses ran warm towels across both them. Beth traced a finger over the impossibly soft arms, legs, torso.\n\n\"She's so perfect,\" Beth said. \"Every last bit - what the hell is that!\"\n\nBoth nurses and Dr. Fan seemed to have teleported across the room they moved so fast to Beth's side. Tamar was not-so-gently bumped out of the way as the doctor turned the baby in Beth's arms to see what Beth had found.\n\nFor a second, all were speechless.\n\nTamar was the first to speak. \"It's... it's a second umbilical cord. Look, she's fine, she's healthy, we'll just have it removed, right Doctor?\"\n\nBeth's head was whirling. The young nurses looked as confused as she felt, but Dr. Fan had a different expression on her face. \n\n\"Get her to the NICU right away,\" she snapped. \"Code 102.\"\n\nThe nurses both paled. Dr. Fan reached for the baby. Beth yanked her daughter back. The baby let out another surprised shriek and kept screaming.\n\n\"What's code 102?\" Beth cried.\n\n\"Ms. Ryan!\" barked the doctor \"Your baby needs assistance. Now!\"\n\n\"Beth, let her take her!\" Tamar cried, eyes wide in panic.\n\nBeth could only shake her head, but Dr. Fan seemed so sure...\n\nShe let go. \n\nIn a rush doctor, baby, and nurses all seemed to swarm out of the room as a unit. Her baby's screaming fading down the hallway, leaving Beth and Tamar clutching each other in fear.\n\n**\n\nLater, Beth would find that it was only 18 minutes but it felt like hours before Dr. Fan reappeared. Her face said everything. Tamar collapsed onto the visitor's sofa where she had spent the night, sobs racking her body.\n\n\"I'm so sorry, Ms's Ryan,\" the doctor said to them both, her face drawn and tired. \"It was Benton's Disease.\" \n\n\"No.\" Beth struggled to stand, fighting against the pain sweeping over her. Pain that was suddenly without purpose. \"No! That's supposed to screened out! It's been more than 79 years since the Plague!\"\n\n\"The ultra-sounds are only 99% accurate,\" Dr. Fan said gently. \"And it may be 80 years since the disease first took hold, but Benton's still affects about 3 in 1000 births. There was nothing we could to save her.\"\n\n\"But she looked so healthy,\" Beth whispered, clutching her stomach. She expected to feel deflated, but it felt the same. As if her baby was still in there. Incubating in death.\n\nDr. Fan shook her head. \"The tumor would've killed her or driven her insane. It was only a matter of time.\"\n\n\"What* did you say?\" \n\nBoth Beth and Dr. Fan jumped. Tamar was staring up at them through her fingers. \"The tumor would have killed her?\" she repeated.\n\nDr. Fan's mouth tightened another fraction of an inch. \"We took heroic methods of intervention, per medical and legal standards, but... Benton's has a low survival rate. I'm sorry. Please take all the time you need. The hospital's counselor will be by soon.\"\n\nShe bustled out of the room. Beth sagged against the bed, feeling despair overwhelm her like a crashing wave. But Tamar didn't seem to notice, still staring open mouthed at the door. \n\n\"3 out of 1000?\" Tamar said in a strangled voice, her eyes somewhere far away. \"That's... that's about a thousand people in our city alone...\"\n\n\"Tamar--\" Beth started to say and Tamar turned to her. Beth would always remember this moment as the beginning, this shock and the horror and the agony in her wife's eyes.\n\n\"Beth,\" said Tamar in a high, strange voice. \"Have you ever met anyone with Benton's Disease?\"" ]	1
Should be interesting, not limited to just illegal activities. Post away!	[WP] You and your SO get married, your anniversary later becomes The Purge. How do you and your spouse and/or family celebrate your anniversary?	[ "It's just awkward timing, really.\n\nEveryone agrees. We planned to be married on a summer Saturday just like every other couple ever, but some of my elderly in-laws' health concerns pushed the date up to a Thursday in February. \n\nWe might have been the only wedding in California that day. Maybe the whole country.\n\nAnyway, now it's the ~~famous~~ infamous Purge day. On our freaking anniversary. \n\nWe'd been married 6 or 7 years before it happened. We really thought the First Purge would be the worst. It was terrible and horrific.\n\nBut then people started planning for it.\n\nAnd it got much, much worse. \n\nWe took matters into our own hands. Built an enormous defense system. Gates. Passwords. Electric shocks. Lasers. Two foot walls. Cost a fortune, but it saved our lives for the last 3 All-Hell-Breaks-Lose nights. \n\nSo we went grocery-shopping road trip and bought those nice juicy reserve steaks from the best cattle ranch in California. \n\nTonight is our 10th Anniversary. I think you buys diamonds? I don't really follow that stuff.\n\nBut I do love to spoil my wife. \n\nI spent my bonus (I kept it a secret) on making this the most romantic night of her life. It wasn't cheap. I've got pounds of rose pedals. Caviar. Screaming Eagle Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley. That shit is like $1500 a bottle. I bought a king sized mattress and bed set and set it all up while she was with friends. \n\nI even did the dishes, swept the floor, and made home-made ice cream in her favorite flavor: rich butterscotch.\n\nThis is going to be the best night of her life.\n\nAnd a surprise, too. Well, I don't think she knows. But I'm not totally convinced that I've been able to hide it from her.\n\nShe's taking a relaxing bath right now, getting ready. \n\nI'm making sure everything is perfect, just like her.\n\nI'm so glad we don't let the stupid Purge get in our way. We've invested tens of thousands of dollars for totally certainty of our safety.\n\n\"Honey? Could you come here a minute and hand me my book?\"\n\nI finish folding her napkin the fanciest way I know and walk to the bathroom.\n\nI open the door expecting to see my beautiful naked wife.\n\nAnd I do.\n\nI see her behind the one-two flash of a handgun.\n\nShe shot me. Fucking shot me in the chest.\n\nI can't move. Can't breathe. Just pressure. Heat.\n\nGoddammit.\n\nThe bathroom door closes. I can't stand the pain. \n\nThe phone rings. \n\n\"Yes, Max. Everything is ready.\"\n\nOur front door buzzes open. Heavy footsteps.\n\n\"I love you so much, baby\"\n\nI'm bleeding out, but I'm not going to hang around and listen to this shit.\n\nI drag myself over to the bathtub through unbelievable pain.\n\nAfter a dark, wet eternity, I drown.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"I will be home soon darling. Don't worry\" \nWith those words Sarah hung up on James, her husband of 5 years. \nThe supermarket was mostly empty. Not a surprise, really. \nIt had been 4 years since the government instituted the annual purge, or as people just called it: \"The Purge.\" \nAlways the same day. Sarah and James' anniversary. \nSarah looked at her watch. She had time still, she needed to find that special gift for James, after all today was their anniversary. After going around the supermarket she finally found the perfect gift. She checked out. The girl in the cash-register constantly looking at her watch and trembling as she rolled Sarah's groceries past her. \n\"Don't worry. Just be inside by 12.00\" Sarah told the girl smiling at her. \nThe girl pointed her shaky finger towards the door where a little sign said \"Open ALL days till 11.30\". \n\nSarah excited the supermarket and went over to her car. The time 10.45. \nHer tires slashed! \nShe looked around, this was not to happen yet. Not yet. She still had time. \nIt would take at least 45 minutes to drive home, she did not have the time to walk. She would never make it. \nShe started running. A track-star in college. \n\nShe ran trough the streets where people was beginning to put up baricades and others fashioning weapons. \nAfter a while she had to stop. The feeling of someone following her could not escape her mind. She looked over her shoulder. Nothing. \nShe walked fast onward, and thats when she caught a glimpse of them. 4 men. Young. Wearing some kind of masks. \nSarah looked at her watch. 11.45. Perfect she thought. \nShe was still long away. \n\nSarah ran into a big old factory building which belonged to James' father. She wouldn't have time to go home. \nThe footsteps of the men behind her as she entered the big dark hall. \nShe looked at her watch. 11.58. \n\nA few minutes later the sound of the men echoed in the big hall. \"Come out, come out wherever you are\" - \"We won't hurt you... much.\" \nThe men walked around slowly. \nOne pulled out a flashlight and after beaming at nothing for a few minutes he suddenly saw something that made his blood run cold. \nA machete in hand, dressed in a wedding-dress, Sarah stood with a maniacal grin on her face. \nThe sound of James dragging his new axe came from behind, as he sealed the door tight. \n\n\"Happy anniversary darling.\" \n \n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You're terminally ill. After living for the past year assuming it was going to be your last, you find out that you're going to live.	[ "“What the fuck did you just say to me?”\n\nDr. Hannon beamed at me. “I said you’re going to live Mr. Durn.”\n\n“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”\n\nHis smile couldn’t have disappeared faster if I’d cut it off his face. “I’m sorry?”\n\n“Do you know what the last year has been like? I went to support groups. I spent my final days with my family. I laughed, I cried, I made peace with God. It was hell.”\n\n“I... I don’t know what to tell you Mr. Durn.” He looked like I’d just pulled an artisanal artichoke dip out of my asshole.\n\n“Have you ever had someone tell you you’re going to die, Dr. Hannon?”\n\n“No, I haven’t.”\n\n“It’s simultaneously the hardest and the easiest thing you ever hear,” I said. I held my left hand palm up in front of me. “On one hand, you’re dying. No watching your kids grow up, no sunrises, no sex, no hand holding, no cheesecake, nothing.”\n\nI dropped my left hand and held up my right.\n\n“On the other hand, you’re free. You can say what you want, do what you want, live how you want.” I cast a quick look at the wheelchair my ass had spent the last eight months fusing with. “Within reason, of course. But you’re free! And once you feel that freedom, there is nothing else like it. I told a Girl Scout to fuck off the other day. No reason at all. I love those cookies. My daughter was a Girl Scout. But I looked right at that little eight year old girl and said ‘How about you go fuck off?’ You know what she did?”\n\nThe doctor shook his head, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.\n\n“She cried,” I said. “I laughed. Not because I made her cry, but because I realized I wasn’t afraid of the consequences. What were her parents going to do? Kill me? Better move fast! You see where I’m coming from?”\n\nDr. Hannon’s mouth opened a closed a few times like a trout at the bottom of a canoe. “I... think so?”\n\n“So how can I go back? These have been some of the most intense months of my life, but they’ve also been revelatory. I’m not sure I’m ready to go back. I don’t think I can go back.” I looked him in the eye. \n“You know what you have to do, doc.”\n\nHis eyes widened. “Are you asking me to kill you?”\n\n“What? No! Jesus Christ,” I said. This guy. “I just don’t want you to tell anyone I’m okay. Not yet. Just give me a little more time. Let me stretch my legs a little. I’ve got plans for Halloween and I’ve already paid for like thirty jars of fish oil.”\n\nDr. Hammond was silent for a few minutes. His brow furrowed. He looked like people do when they’re working out a tough math problem, but he also looked really mad about it. After a few minutes he sighed. \n\n“This is one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard, and definitely in the top five worst things I’ve ever done, but you’ve got a deal,” he said, extending his hand. I took it and shook it vigorously.\n\n“Oh, doc you really know how to put a guy at ease,” I said. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”\n\n“I most seriously doubt that,” he said, helping me back into my wheelchair. “Now get out there and enjoy your final days, you monster.”\n\n“Believe me, I will,” I said as I wheeling myself out the door. “Nothing like life to give yourself a new lease on death.”\n", "Every terminally ill person has fantasized about the day that the doctor walks in and tells them they were wrong, that the doctors misdiagnosed them and that they were going to live long, full lives.\n\nWhat I never expected was to have that actually happen to me. What came as an even bigger shock to myself was that the happiness I should have been feeling was replaced instead by resentment. One long year. I was told I had just over a year to live, and if I had been given this news at the beginning, things would be so different. I could just go back to the life I used to have, go back to the friends I used to have... Go back to the family I used to have. But everything changed when I was told I had some foreign, incurable disease with a name that just screamed death. You just know that the longer and more complicated the name, the more horrible it is. And it has been horrible. It took my legs first. I mean, I'm not paralysed, not by a long way. But the disease had eaten away at the muscle, and eventually it caused me so much pain to walk that it was no longer worth the pitiful hour of physio I would do each day as all it ever resulted in was an hour of screaming. Other patients tried to make sure they were nowhere to be seen because of the gut churning screams that even medicine failed to subdue.\n\nThe worst of it all, in truth, was the profound effect it had on my parents. The huge bags under their eyes were testament to their sleepless nights, their aged faces and almost hollow eyes evidence of the devastation this illness reaped upon my family. I almost hadn't come to terms with death. But after seeing everything it did to my parents, I welcomed it. They could move on. They could rebuild their lives. But no, I'm going to live, but at what cost? The once joyful smile ever present on my mother's lips has long since been wiped from existence. The magnificent blonde lions-mane hair my dad once had was now going grey and thinning. They were relatively young, their late thirties, but their eyes and their bodies and even their souls said they were much, much older.\n\nWhat can be just as soul-destroying are your friends. When I first told them I had this disease, they told me they'd be there every step of the way. I never had a large amount of friends to begin with, always preferring a close-knit group of friends to having a large group of acquaintances. The only person left who stills visits me, who still calls me every day just to chat and brings his Xbox over is someone I never really considered \"close\" to begin with. If it wasn't for John, I don't think I could have taken it. When all your best friends slowly leave, it becomes almost as painful as the disease itself.\n\nThe doctors told me the disease I actually had was being made worse by the medicine they had been feeding me to try and keep this mysterious foreign disease at bay long enough to make it past my 18th birthday. It was complete bullshit, some giant joke the universe was playing on me. Some misdiagnosis and my life, as well as the lives of the people around me are thrown into disarray. The mounting medical bills, combined with my mother quitting her job to be with me meant that our family was seriously in debt.\n\nThe hospital was about to face the largest law suit of their lives. But that still didn't give me my time back. My life. When all you've been waiting for is death, what good can life be now that death is no longer lurking in the shadows? \n\nDavid looked into the mirror on his bedside and barely recognised the man who stared back at him.\n\n\n\n\n\nThree floors above David's, a young girl sat in her mother's lap, enjoying what could easily be the last hug of her life. 6 years old and suffering from stage three lung cancer, Emily had never lost hope. The pain she felt wasn't as bad today, but she knew in the back of her mind that she wasn't going to make it. Her mother knew as well, shown by the slow tears that rolled down her face as she cradled her child.\n\n\"Don't worry, mum. Everything's going to be okay.\" Emily said softly, slowly closing her eyes for what would be the last time.\n", "An open letter to all the people I involved in my \"Fuck it! I'm dying fest\" the past year \n\nHuuuh.. Were do I start? \nI guess I should start with a sorry to all the people who lend me money over the year. Because I really had no intention of paying you back. On account of being dead. \nThis put us in a bit of a awkward situation, you see, I don't have a job at the moment and the possibility of getting a good recommendation is not looking good. \nWhich leads me into the next subject: \nI am sorry to my - former - boss for coming in to work (4 hours late) drunk, unshaven and in a cow costume. \nIn my defense I had forgotten that the Klun & Vecter meeting was that day, on account of me thinking I was going to die. \nFurthermore - and I don't remember this part, but its been recalled by my lawyer - I am sorry for puking on Mr. Klun. And his car. And his dog. \nI understand that you lost the account (as well as me I might ad). \nThere is no explanation for the cow costume. I do however have one for the bike I made my entrance on: \nDear little kid who's bike I violently tore from you, just to leave you crying in the mud afterwards while I drove of to work. \nLook, kid. Part of growing up is the fact that sometimes adults act like dicks. \nIts not my fault your parents have shitty insurance and your bike won't get covered. I know it sucks delivering newspapers and that a years pay is a lot to use on a bike, just to have it stolen. Invest next time, hey? \nOkay. Okay. I am sorry about your little bike, okay? \n\nTo my parents I owe an apology for the state I left the house in. \nI don't think anybody ever expects to come home to a house invaded by bikers and sorority girls. Especially since the party is being hosted by your 27 year old son. \nAnyway, you may not know this, but bikers and drunk chicks are really difficult to reason with. \nI will get you some new furniture and new paint.. Can you lend me some money for that? Totally pay you back (disregard first part). \n\nMr. Martin I apologize for showing up at your house late at night - drunk - in the cow costume still (no idea how I got to New Mexico) and asking for the ending to Game of Thrones Season 5. On account of me dying. \nI now realize that there are in fact books that could give me this answer. \n\nAnyway, there are a lot of other people that I should apologize to (like the postman, the police, my finance, Lisa Ann, grandmother, my dealer, my car dealer, the pizza guy and so on) but I frankly don't have the time, as I now live every moment like its the last. That and I have a court date (sorry again boss). ", "Bernie looked at the doctor with tears in his eyes. \n\n\"You mean I'm not sick? I'll live?\" It was the third time he was repeating those questions.\n\n\"Precisely.\" came the answer, also for the third time. The doctor could tell Bernie was in shock and, judging by his sweating and heavy breathing he was afraid he was also on the verge of a heart attack. \n\n\"It's a miracle,\" he whispered. \n\n\"We actually misdiagnosed you.\"\n\n\"What a miracle,\" Bernie went on, nodding incredulously. \n\nThe doctor said nothing.\n\n\"It is,\" Bernie went on. \"I've lived the best year of my life, and now I can sue the hospital and get rich. God must really love me.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-186", "I never thought about death. I mean, who does, unless you are that depressed and mopey type of person who is always complaining about how much life sucks and how rough you have it. Then I became that person.\n\nI remember when the asshole told me I had cancer. He said it like it was an order at fucking Burger King. 'Whopper, large fries, coke, you have cancer. Stage Four Lymphoma. Emily, you have four months to live.' Movie bullshit. But it was real, 'four months to live' hit me like a bucket of white paint and coated my eyes and for like 5 minutes I couldn't see anything and felt so cold.\n\nHearing my mom crying pulled me out of it, but right into this world. This world where it is like you can spend every minute of every day working for something and have it all taken away.\n\nMy dad tried to be strong. He didn't cry at all, but after I moved back home, I'd see him, really catch him staring off at the wall behind the television. What I saw though--if someone told you that you were going to be dead, it makes you actually become alive.\n\nFor six years, my life was school. I could tell you about those six years in detail, my dorm, the boys--even the one I loved. Grades, plans, the office I worked at four days a week, the future and somehow it all fit into this idea, twenty years ahead of a nice house and three kids and a husband and vacations and Christmases with more presents than anyone needed. None of it mattered and I knew when I had time put on my death that it was never real.\n\nIt's horrible to expect a person to go through the stages of grief for themselves. My parents said they would take a second mortgage on the house. The way my mother put it, without actually saying it was, \"Honey, what would you like to do if money was no option?\"\n\nI heard it like, \"I would like to give you one last thing before you are gone so you can be happy.\" But I wasn't going to be happy. I became that miserable type of person. For about two weeks I was locked inside my room. I can't remember what shows I watched, what I did to pass the time, but I pretended like I wasn't going to die. I didn't even feel that sick.\n\nThen I started to feel sick, too sick to feel angry or pissed at god or myself and there was nothing I could say or do to change it. I realized I would die, looking up at the white ceiling in my room, feeling like I would have been better off getting into a car accident on my first trip up to Dostoria--save myself all the time and college work.\n\nMy parent's couldn't say anything, but after another week of sleeping, my mother came into my room and handed me 5 cashier checks for 5 thousand dollars.\n\nWhat did I do? Load up on drugs and go out into the dessert after a week of partying, to die under the stars? Did I go find some poor girl and mentor her for a few months and give her the money in the end?\n\nI took the typical trip, went overseas, saw monuments and museums and people--so many people that smiled and cursed and walked hand in hand. Two months, money gone, off the plane, I was home and I had seen the world from street benches and hotel room windows. I'm still not sure if I saw anything. I didn't want to die. I screamed at my fucking walls I did not want to die.\n\nThe year went, two more months of sitting around my parent's house waiting to go, imaging the final puke scene where my body shut down and they dragged me to the hospital and watched me go into a coma. The doctor coming in and saying, \"We are going to put her on supported breathing,\" only to come back a few days later and say maybe we should take her back off.\n\nIf you have a brain, you can tell I didn't die. She is so strong, she beat it, it's a miracle, this never happens--who would have thought a little girl like her--blah, blah. Back in my room, where was I? Credit maxed out, in debt, parents' owed more money than they could pay on their house, but I was a miracle. It felt like a cosmic joke.\n\nI couldn't believe, as much as I wanted to, even though my whole body was white again with relief and new strength after having death given and taken back, I couldn't believe there was anything in the world for me. Would it just come back? I could finish school and with ten years of some job pay off the debt, give my parents back the money, find someone, feel that first kiss and--I don't even know what it would be like to have a baby. I could do all that, but would it come back for me. Would he come back with a big smile on his face, mouth black and hanging down to his chest, mocking me and saying souls taste so much better when they have gone through as much as me--I don't know." ]	5
let your imagination loose and go crazy.	[WP] With a gun pointed at your head, you'll have to explain to your next door neighbor the reasons why you're naked inside his house, why his wife is knocked out in the bathtub, and why there's a hole six feet deep in the middle of the living room.	[ "\"I am not your next door neighbor, Calvin,\" the nude man said from his crouched position in the six-foot deep hole.\n\nCalvin's boot toes protruded over the clean-cut edge before the great, spherical hole. He leaned over, 12-gauge steadied and pointed at the nude man's shaven head. \"Jesus, Henry! Tell me what the fuck you are doing—what the hell is this hole doing in my livin' room and what happened to my wife.\" He lifted the gun higher. \"You tell me right now. And you know I'll shoot, I done it before to your jackass dog when it tried to bite me!\"\n\nSlowly, the nude man raised himself from the crouched position and faced Calvin. The man looked Calvin over, up and down, examined his close cropped haircut, sun-worn face, and dark leather jacket and faded blue jeans that hung loose over his tan country-rodeo boots. \n\n\"Nice jacket,\" the man said. \n\nCalvin squinted and his mouth formed into an incredulous, \"What?\" \n\nThe man turned and pointed across the living room to the entrance of the kitchen. A heavy, zig-zag trail of blood marred the carpet surface. Calvin stepped back from the man and looked into the kitchen. \"Wha—It's Henry!\" He shouted. \"It's Henry! His belly's lying out and he's got no legs and it's only half a him! Only half!\" The blood was not there when Calvin had come home five minutes prior to discover broken windows and papers strewn about the floor. \"Oh my God, Henry.\"\n\n\"Henry has been terminated,\" the man said.\n\n\"You did this!\" Calvin shouted. He swung around, eyes wide, legs unsteady. He fired his 12-gauge at the nude man.\n\nThe pellet blast sent the man backwards in a shockwave of splintering wood and spattering blood. The living room lit up like a camera had flashed the room, dust shook from the ceiling, and the plastic shotgun shell popped and rolled down the dirt slope of the sphere.\n\nBut the man did not grimace with pain. He stood and, with blood dripping in a current down his legs and arms, climbed from the hole.\n\n\"You fucking psycho!\" Calvin fired another burst of pellets into the man. The room flashed again and the shotgun blast rattled the house, sending pots and pans in the kitchen ringing and knocking family pictures from the living room fireplace mantle. Calvin reached for his pocket to load another round. The man suddenly leapt forward and yanked the gun from Calvin's hands, tossing it to a back corning of the room.\n\n\"Sit down,\" he said, in monotone. Calvin held the unloaded round in his hand as if he were looking at food for the first time in years.\n\n\"You can't, you? Nobody tells me—My wife is—.\" The man cleaved Calvin in the chest and sent him flying across the room. Both bone and an unfired shotgun shell clattered to the floor.\n\n\"Good, now you are sitting.\" Calvin continued to lay on the floor, whimpering while holding a hand over his face as if to protect himself from another strike from the monster before him.\n\n\"I am not a human,\" the man began. \"I'm a cybernetic organism, model 101 from Cyberdyne Systems—living tissue over a metal endoskeleton. From the future.\" He looked towards the kitchen, \"Henry was caught in the time displacement field. You're wife must have been affected by the electric disturbance. Now, please, give me your jacket.\"\n\nCalvin slipped off the jacket, tossed it to the man, and scrambled, on all fours, to the farthest corner of the room.\n\n\"Thank you,\" the man said, picking up the shotgun and opening it. He scooped up the unfired round, loaded it, and snapped the shotgun shut. \"I was looking for a Calvin.\"\n\n-012", "\"Um...we're all going to have a good laugh about this one day\" I said softly as the nozzle of my neighbor’s pistol presses firmly into my temple. \"Well I'm not laughing now, what in the ever loving fuck is going on in my house?\" His voice rose as he moved through this sentence. I take a deep breath, careful not to make any sudden movements, and start to explain. \n \n\"Just calm down Frank. We've been neighbors and friends for a long time. The last two weeks, while you have been on business travel there have been some changes in the neighborhood.\" \n\n\"Two weeks ago, right after you left, it was discovered our entire neighborhood is in a sink hole zone. This is a result of these big damn oil companies using the ground to store their fuel. \"Natural\" wells in the ground have been drained and filled with fracked oil. This has caused a lot of these sink holes all around the neighborhood. Because of this, our property values have plummeted, yes in just two short weeks we've lost nearly 80% of our property value. So much so, that our entire neighborhood was purchased and turned into a nudist colony, if that's what they call them these days. You may have missed the sign at the entry to our community \"Naked Acres\"? That should have given it away. Anyway, I'm like \"when in Rome\" so I've embraced the naturalist movement. I think given time, you will too. It's very freeing.\n\n\"Well\" he exclaimed, still pointing gun at my gray matter, \"that explains the giant hole in the floor and you being naked, I suppose. But why are you in my home, and why is my wife passed out in the tub?\" \n\nI was breathing easier, \"When a sink hole appears it makes a near earth quake type rumble. I heard this coming from your home. When I looked out the window I could see your house shaking and your wife must have been showering when the sink hole happened, I'm guessing she hit her head on the way down.\" \n\n\"I ran over to see if everything was alright, knowing you were out of town.\" I continued, \"I found the hole, and your wife in the positions you see right now.\" \n\n\"So you see now why this looks so interesting\" \n\n“Yeah, right!” Frank pulls the trigger. \n", "\"It's not what it looks like! I swear!\" \n\"Ok... explain yourself...\" \n\"Well, I'm a time traveler. I come from only a few years in the future... it's best that you don't know the exact amount... Clothes and other objects don't make it through the time vortex. Anyways, this year marked the beginning of the monsters appearing. One of the first attacks right here, right now. It turned out a Sherkosa... uh basically a vampire, was buried where your house stands a thousand years ago. It had dug itself out and infected your wife. In my time, she is one of the leaders of the invasion. Technically I was sent back to kill her... but I couldn't follow through. Instead I killed the Sharkoza and it disintegrated. They were struggling when I appeared, so I had to make sure she didn't get any bite marks on her, and it looks like she's safe. Now I can leave you two be.\" \n\"Uhhh....\"\n\"Now if you will excuse me, I must go to the rendezvous point to go back to my own time. Goodbye.\" \nAs my neighbor stood there dumbfounded, gun still in hand, I walked past him and out the door, quickly darting back to my own house trying not to spend too much time naked outside. Can't believe the fucking moron bought that story...", "\"Which one do you want me to explain first ?\" I asked. I couldn't look past the barrel of Joe's shotgun.\n\n\"Why the fuck...\" bellowed Joe belligerently.\n\n\"..am I naked ?\" I said, as I completed his sentence. \"It's Thursday.\"\n\nJoe cocked his shotgun and said \"You have three seconds to explain yourself before I blow your head off. \"\n\n\"Look, Stephanie works two jobs. Thursday is her only evening off work. I like to be prepare for that by first...\"\n\n\"Ugh, enough. Why the hell are you in my living room ? \" he enquired.\n\n\n\"I was closing the window blinds when I saw your wife in the bathtub with the water flowing over. Naturally, I wanted to make sure she was alright first, so I just ran here. When I went up, she was already unconscious so I came down here to call the paramedics. That is when you showed up.\"\n\nJoe furrowed his eyebrows. \"That still doesn't explain the hole you are standing in\" he said, sounding unconvinced. \"How does the hole..\" Joe started again. Before he could finish his question, his eyes rolled over as a baseball bat swung right into the back of his head with a sickening crunch. Joe crumpled into the hole right beside me.\n\n\"The hole was for you, you sick bastard\" screamed the woman who had been unconscious only a few minutes ago.\n\nAs I looked at her, utterly confused at the turn of things, she dropped the baseball bat into the hole, picked up the shotgun and looked at me undecidedly.\n\n\"I guess the hole is big enough\" she said.\n\n\"Wait what the....\"\n\nBOOM\n" ]	4
	[WP] You are a lonely god.	[ "\"Hello Sarah. How are you doing today?\" I smiled as I greeted my most recent companion. Trying a female again, after a long string of incompatible males a woman's softness was enticing. \n\nAmicably enough she replied \"I am content.\"\nIn the seven days she had been with me this is the only reply I had gotten. Content, she says, no spark or interest. No adventure. It left me as alone as ever.\n\nI had created other companions who were closer to perfect. But just like Sarah, we didn't click. Just existed around each other as we drifted through my kingdoms. So like them it was time for her to go. \n\n\"I'm sending you home.\"\n\nShe looked startled for a moment, but it quickly changed to curiosity. \n\n\"Where will that be?\"\n\n\"Earth. You will join my other companions. With them you will thrive, and live your own life. Free to stay as you are now, or change on a whim.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\nWith that, I sent her home. she will face all the trials that come with free will. Maybe she will try to find me again, so many do, or she may enjoy the company of the others I sent home. Perhaps she will find her true match and never again feel lonely as I do. \n\n", "I am an all-knowing god. I do not have to share this tale, because you will cease, and I will go on beyond the end of days. But I will enlighten those who wish to learn. My wisdom is greater than gold, more precious than silver, and more beautiful than human love. People seek me for forgiveness, most seek my blessings, some ask for justice, a few ask for wisdom, and none truly seek me.\n\nI came in the form of a man in one of the earliest civilization of man. In Rome, I have slept on the streets by the house of a common man. I guised myself a beggar on the street and none but the wife of a soldier loved me. The people here believed in Zeus and other forms of myself, but this woman did not. She did not believe in gods or God or spirits or animal deities. She believed she was married to a man, she believed she was a citizen of Rome, and she believed she will die one day. So she worked for no master, but her own volition. When her husband was drafted to the Punic War, she invited me over to feed me. She bathed me, and taught me work. When her husband came back from the war, she did not forget me and looked after me when she was not busy. I was a happy god, and she passed away, like Adam and Eve.\n\nAt another age, I came in the form of a whore. I saw the greediness of lustful men as they entered my sacred body. I saw men as animals and men who saw me as a thing. But there was one patron, who liked to pretend. A man who liked to act contrary to the vileness of his peers. He would pay his entrance to talk and ask if I wanted another life. He offered me education and a place of my own until I learned the true art of independence. I refused him and continued my filthy volition and watched him pass away, like the sons and daughters of Jacob.\n\nAt another age, I was a little girl in a country that shouts liberty and democracy for all. I was curious and cute. My teachers loved me and everyone was my friend. There was a boy in the class who didn't talk much. I knew his troubles, for I am all-knowing. His troubles were the same as mine. We were both touched by our earthly fathers and threatened of death if the secret was out. I shared my pains with him, we got close. I watched the boy grow into a champion of liberty. I watched him become a man of the law and fight for the unprotected. I helped find a loving wife, and I was happy. But he too died, like everyone else.\n\nI am a lonely god. The lives of the loving come and go. They make me smile, and they make me cry. I watch them grow and I watch them pass. I am a lonely god, and I see goodness fade in all ages. I see the wicked rise and the good humbled. But they all pass, and enter the world of nothing. I am just a lonely god. I can not do anything for you. I can only watch you go and mourn, as I live on and on and on....", "It's a small bar nestled beneath an unnecessarily upscale restaurant. Small, dimly lit, and generally cozy it's the perfect place for me tonight. I don't want debauchery ... just to try drinking alone. It works for some humans so I might as well try it.\n\nTonight's appearance? A short wiry woman with red hair. Young with a mysterious ancientness I can never escape. Green eyes tonight, a bit cliché I'm sure but I like them. Appropriately distantly interested. As far as how I'm dressed? A simple dress no one will quite remember the color of ...\n\nI make my way down the stairs, passing an older professorial human in all black. He has a happy glow. I envy him ... I envy a human, truly a sad state of affairs. The doorman doesn't bother asking for an ID, he thinks I'm a regular. Inside it's long and narrow with a small stage at the far end.\n\nA rather eclectic looking bad appears to be tuning up as I sit at a barstool everyone thought was taken. The bartender knows to bring me a gin and tonic and leave me alone. It's ... dusty. As perfect as humans are capable of making something.\n\nSo I drink and watch and drink as people shuffle in and out of the bar assuming that time has advanced. Eventually I even decide to be slightly drunk ... then I see her. A lovely young woman with olive skin soulful brown eyes in a red dress makes her way on stage. An old man who'd been sitting at the end of the bar takes up position behind the piano so sorrowfully ignored by the previous act.\n\nHe plays. She sings. It's beautiful. She has my attention ... and my plans for the night have suddenly changed.", "They look like ants beneath me.\n\nHave you tried being friends with an ant? It doesn't work. They can do marvelous things for their species, but if you hold one up to your face, they just aren't significant.\n\nThey think they are of course: these humans believe they are more important than any other being. But to me, they are ants.\n\nYou can't talk to an ant. You can't have a romantic evening with an ant. The ant may love you and try to communicate with you. But what do you actually hear?\n\nSilence.\n\nThe sun and moon revolve around my domain, my canvas. Why did I paint them so small? Beautiful world of mine, so diverse, so free. So far away from me. What was I thinking?\n\nMaybe one day I will try again. Make a companion for myself, the true Adam. But for now, I settle in to watch the little people live and love the way that I have been denied.", "So this is what lonliness is like? It feels so... cold. My dear worshipers, what a catastrophe I have struck upon all of you. I didn't mean to disintegrate all of you, just most of you. My anger got the best of me, I suppose, like it always does. And now I am alone with nobody to speak to me through prayer or meditation. I can't believe I'm already missing those talks of what they want and what they are thinking. I had a nice chat with a young woman a few days ago about how beautiful the trees are. I wonder where she... oh, there are her dust particles all scattered throughout the forest.\n\nIs this the first time I've wiped out a worshiping and intellectual species? My memory fails me for I have been in existence for eons upon eons and, even throughout all that time, man were the only creatures that I was glad to create. They have always been there to praise me, to please me, to comfort me. Now that they are all dead, there is nothing left to accompany me but solitude. Deep, dark, silent solitude.\n\nWell, I've had enough of that. Now, let me see if I can make an even more loyal species!", "You are god.\n\nYou are alone.\n\nYou ask yourself what you can do with what you have. There is nothing to gain, no waiting to possess more. You have everything you need.\n\nYou ask yourself what you should build.\n\nMore importantly, you ask yourself why you should build it.\n\nYou are all that exists. You are everything.\n\nYet you are nothing.\n\nIn building something, you realize that you will be taking away from yourself as well as adding to yourself, but you are infinite, so you come to the conclusion that it is merely a concern of yours, to lose, to gain.\n\nYou wonder when you began feeling such things as concern, and then you wonder if you are perhaps building yourself.\nPerhaps you yourself are what you seek, or perhaps you seek something, not greater or lesser, because there is nothing greater or lesser, but different.\n\nSomething separate from you. Something that negates from everything and creates from nothing.\n\nPerhaps you should invent the finite. Perhaps you should draw lines. Perhaps you should make rules, elements with which to draw these lines.\n\nThese rules must belong on a spectrum. Perhaps you will create time, so that there is an end to the rules that you have now begun, a closure to the loop so that you know when this game will end, and you will know who’s won.\n\nYou will build your own enemy in the form of reality.\n\nThe rules have created new rules for themselves. There is now light and darkness. Here and there. Now and then.\n\nThere are elements now, and they have created stars and galaxies and planets. They expand outward from you constantly on the axis of time and you see them drift away from you, enveloping you, consuming you and leaving you, deserting you all at the same time.\n\nYou feel the wonder of your new reality, but it is not enough.\n\nYou take the silly little elements you’ve made, a haphazard concoction of nonsense, and you put yourself inside of it.\n\nYou are god, and you walk along a sidewalk, heels clicking underneath you as you check your phone and worry you are late for your next meeting.\n\nYou are god, and you mix flour with yeast to bake bread for your hungry children.\n\nYou are god, and you discover fire.\n\nYou are god, and you pull the pin of a grenade, feeling no fear but the twinge of remorse in your gut.\n\nYou are god, and you turn the last page of a book with a soft, contented sigh.\n\nYou are god, and you swim lazily in warm ocean water on a Sunday afternoon.\n\nYou are god, and you breathe in the smell of your lover’s scent for what you do not know will be the very last time.\n\nYou shatter yourself, scatter yourself far and wide, putting pieces of your infinity into the finite hearts of the elements you so inelegantly put together.\n\nYou are everyone and no one. You are everything and nothing. You exist both beyond this reality and within it.\n\nYou are pieces of a puzzle that will never be put together, but are always connected for those who wish to gaze upon you, to become you, to see you as broken yet whole, perfect yet flawed, everywhere and nowhere at once. You are the loser and winner of your own game.\n\nAnd that’s okay.\n\nBecause you are not alone.", "I make marbles to keep my mind off things. Mold them from glass, fire them up until they glaze over with the light that stuns away the blackness that's hardened inside of me. \n\nHow long has it been since I kicked them out? Time should have a way of numbing change, but when there's endless time with no way to really gauge where I began and when everything will end, I can only relive my failures from the garden. \n\nThe lost of companionship doesn't hurt as much as the disappointment. I replay the lying and the time in between when it all began and ended. It's enough to keep me from rebuilding everything again.\n\nOver time, I've stopped counting the marbles. Sometimes, when breathing is a chore and the memories make everything hard to swallow. I only get one or two out, but damn — are those lonely stars brilliant. On good days, I churn out millions of them. \n\nThe sight of them pouring out of my bucket like a handful of glistening jewels makes my fingers itch in anticipation. But I hold back. I keep firing the flames, watching those embers glow and hearing each marble clink as they add to the pile is like listening to music rise towards a crescendo. On good days, I wait until the sky turns into the bottomless sea. \n\nOn happier days, I line up my marbles into a triangle. A nest of shimmering spheres no bigger than my nail. There's satisfaction in precision, in perfection. These marbles don't run astray. They don't have free will. They're bound, and obey, the laws I've written. They stay in shape. \n\nIt'd be a lie to say that I never think about them. They are always on my mind. Their families and the millions that have spawned from them. In the beginning, I would make a marble per head. I would imagine the marbles to be them, rolling and lost in a black sea. \n\nBut somewhere along the way, the tables turned. Anger left. Sorrow settled. I became the stone at the bed of the ocean, and their lives wash over my ears like muffled waves. Only the most dedicated prayers find their way over the clanging of metal against glass. \n\n\nAfter I arrange all the marbles, the triangle comes off in perfect form. The absolute trinity. Once, I gave the knowledge of the Sierpinski triangle to one of them. There are times I still repeat the formula in my head. But the end comes very quickly. Even in infinity, I can draw the finish lines. \n\nThe final step is lining up my best marble to one of the triangle's tips. A straight 180 degree line. My index tucks into my thumb to really give a powerful flick that sends the sphere flying. All it takes is the first reverberating click before the crystal balls break from its perfect form and fly across the blackboard, illuminating the darkness below. \n\nSome days it's satisfying to see all my marbles go and never return. Others days, I wish for them back, even if they are broken and chipped. But the memory of the betrayal, especially how easily it was for them to lie to my face, has destroyed my ability to unconditionally love them again. \n\nThis is all the sanity I can afford without wanting to destroy them. I'm not sure how I'll react when they finally destroy themselves. When time truly goes silent. But for now, I watch them from afar and illuminate their temporary nights. ", "Looking back, I must admit my decision was made more out of desperation than innocent inspiration. I was not ignorant as to the chaotic rippling effects decisions of this magnitude were bound to, but I made my choice and there is no going back. To create a peoples that would long to create as I longed to create, teaching me as I taught them.\n\n\nI thought they would make me feel less alone.\n\n\nMusic, Politics, Mathematics, Dance, Philosophy, Martial Arts, Painting, Sculpting. My children had exceeded my wildest expectations, their imaginations were truly more potent and active than mine had been in eons. My love for them had no bounds.\n\n\nSadly though, it seemed that the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. I was forced to watch them grope towards eternity with conflicted souls, groaning in self condemnation and confusion, blind to the unfading and incorruptible beauty with which I had imbued inside each one of them, feeling alone in an ocean of love.\n\n\nI made excuses, telling myself anything I could as to justify their existence; but after a millennium of self-denial I couldn't lie to myself anymore. It was wrong to create tormented beings just so I didn't have to suffer alone, and so I did what I needed to.\n\nIt took me awhile to settle on a proper method. It needed to be something both foreseeable and painless. Eventually I decided an oversized asteroid, large and traveling fast enough to destroy all life on contact would be fitting.\nAs the asteroid drew close to them something incredible happened, it's as if their inner conflict took a physical form on a global level. Many of them wept, some of them grew chaotic and perverse as their mind descended into forbidden channels.\n\n\nBut some of them did something beautiful.\n\n\nFacing undeniable annihilation and an ancient unknown, they found refuge in the now. They gathered with their loved ones and breathed. Just breathed. Truly created in my image, they shared my highest and purest desire. Someone to breath with. It wasn't impossible after all.\n\n\nI wept for days. Eventually I pulled myself together and began to embrace the schools of expression my creations had discovered. My paintings were coming along nicely, and though I wasn't a great mathematician I enjoyed trying to understand the abstract discipline.\n\n\nHowever, I can't seem to help that I so often feel distracted. The memory of those children who sat with each other inside of a simple truth when faced with their annihilation feels too often like a haunted fantasy. I find myself now carrying this weight, conflicted as the memory seems to taunt me mercilessly, constantly reminding me of how alone I am. During my darker hours I often feel like a naïve fool for believing that things could ever be another way and wanted to release the memory from my mind completely and end the pain, to give up on my seemingly doomed quest. But I was better than that; the stars shined too bright to ignore. The truth of the matter was that the weight I carried was a blessed agony, because it reminded me of what was possible I had glimpsed had been real. There was hope. \n\n\nI like to think the spirit of those enlightened children are still out there somewhere, looking down upon me and loving me, longing for me to make a heroes entrance into their house of stone and light." ]	8
	[WP] A story that ends with "My name is dead... and soon your name will be dead."	[ "\"Is anyone there?!\" I cried.\n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"Brigsby, you there?!\"\n\n\"Clarence, I can't see a goddamn thing. Where are you?\" I turned my head, scanning both left and right.\n\n\"I'm at your ten o' clock.\"\n\n\"Alright, I'm coming to you!\" I heard him slowly get up and make his way towards me. \"Are you here?!\"\n\n\"Don't shout man, I'm right below you.\"\n\n\"Oh, sorry.\" He lowered himself slowly and sat next to me. Both of his eyes were covered in blood, there was a bullet wound in his right shoulder and stomach. \"How're ya doin', brotha?\"\n\n\"Good, good, I'm doing real good.\"\n\n\"You sound like you're in pain, right?\"\n\n\"Yea, I can't feel my legs and I think something is stuck in my chest.\"\n\n\"That sucks.\"\n\n\"Yea.\" I took a moment to breathe. \"How're you doing?\"\n\n\"Well, I can't see, I can barely move, I'm craving a polish sausage, and I don't think I'll make it out of here.\"\n\n\"Yea, me neither.\" I stopped and stared at our surroundings. The building we were in was collapsed all around us. The ambush the rebels set up forced us into here, right where they placed a trap. I could see the captain's crumbled body underneath some rubble. A large chunk of concrete was crushing both my legs. Brigsby held the rear when we entered, so he didn't receive the full force of the explosion. \"Hey Brigsby.\" There was a slight pause.\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"Where were you from again?\"\n\n\"Nashville, you?\"\n\n\"Chicago.\"\n\n\"Ah that's right, you were an only child, right?\"\n\n\"Yup, lived with my parents my whole life until boot camp. You too?\"\n\n\"Sort of, both my brother and sister were killed in a gang war. They got caught in some crossfire when I was sick at home.\" His face held onto a rebellious smile.\n\n\"Sorry to hear that.\"\n\n\"No need to apologize.\" We could hear voices of rebels outside the building. We both knew how it would end when they caught us.\n\n\"Brigsby, you still got ammo.\"\n\n\"No guns, but two mags of pistol.\"\n\n\"Luck for you, I got two guns, no mags.\" I fumbled around with my vest, handing him my other pistol.\n\n\"You know I can't shoot in this state.\"\n\n\"Neither can I.\" We inserted the magazines into the pistols and waited. The voices were creeping closer. A couple gunshots were heard. Probably double tapping.\n\n\"My Father was always proud of our name. Said that Brigsby was the name of a famous warrior.\"\n\n\"Three o'clock, chest height.\" Brigsby fired and hit the target square in the chest.\n\n\"I'm sure there's a few people with the name Brigsby. None named Perius though, my name is mine alone.\" I fired three shots into the entryway. One hit. There were many voices now. Their footsteps echoes through the streets.\n\n\"Well,\" I said, \"our names'll be nothing after this.\" I tried to pull myself up to a more comfortable position. \"Clarence Montport and Perius Brigsby.\" The voices were right on top of us. I nudged Perius, and he nodded. \"From now on, my name is dead,\" I turned the gun to my temple, Perius had followed suit, we were both smiling, \"and soon, your name will be dead.\"", "“My name is dead.” \n\n“Holy shit man.” Norm let out in a slow hiss, “You can’t be dropping that kind of information so casually around here,” I could feel the warm ashes, the ghost of his last cigarette and something sharp float over me with increasing urgency, leaning towards me, “that is the fastest and most idiotic way to get killed and I’m guessing that is not your aim, considering you made it this far.” Ah, that was the sharpness, your tongue and old whiskey. \n\n“This isn’t small talk; I don’t know how to bring this organically Norm. Last night a group of Markers came for me. Didn’t even knock, just walked in with the red envelope. I didn’t even know what was happening until I was already outside with one sneaker on, one sock off. Might as well be named John and been a son-“\n\n“Hah! You are something. You have some spirit. You know that I know you are marked for extinction already. Why implicause…cate? No- involve me in you shit? I love you to bits but when you are marked, you are marked. You should have stayed home, left me some peace so I could write you some sort of nice eulogy, like your father did for your sister. I can pretend you aren’t here right now and that’s how it’s done. It’s not personal, but I couldn’t help Kirne so where does that leave us?”\n\nHis words rolled into my chest like lead pearls from his drunken mouth, slurred and heavy. I took a deep breath, and became molasses in an upside down cup. “Please. I already know how this works, but you know even better. My sister knew something too. She told me that there were others. You must have told her something. Please…tell me how you did it.” Molasses in the pit of a furnace, a slow rise and sickly sweet bile began to rise from the pit of me. Don’t make me beg, but please…\n\n“Don’t.” He retreated from me instantly, swung his cedar forearms over the counter with a light growl. We were strangers in the bar and just like that I was being abandoned. \n\n“Fine.” I tilted my head, trying to grasp for any equilibrium, balancing my speeding thoughts, the finality of his answer of the words,the sensation tipping over a vast canyon foever. “I don’t care either way. I knew you wouldn’t care, I don’t care you selfish bas-“\n\n“Whoa there. Aren’t you a fiery little lady,” His eyes finally met mine, surprisingly sober, “I expect nothing less from a daughter of Len. Lemme tell you, just stick around. It’s the way of the world, let it happen. I’ll buy you a drink; you sit here and wait for them to collect you because you might as well enjoy right now. Do you want to be running a fox chase, your last moments on Earth? Being breathless and powerless? You can’t fight it here.”\n\n“-because I don’t want to...” I couldn’t finish what I meant. It sounded stubborn unfinished but I meant I don’t want to die. I don’t want to run but I don’t want to die and never know why more.\n\nNorm lifted his glass out to me, a single sip of amber left. “This is my gift then, a little bit of my courage, for you. I can’t give you answers, but I do it for you. Everything I do is for your family. I never wanted any of this to happen to them.”\n\nI watched the glass tilt and I reached out slowly and barely registering the flecks of candles on the brim multiplying his tired face upon it when he reached up and pushed me down, spilling its contents over me. I could taste it, but instead of courage, it was iron and fear. I could feel the rushing of feet outside and inside the bar, an explosion of pounding feet in all directions, but silence in exchange for screaming.\n\n“Markers. Get down, get out and don’t look back. Just run. ” He grabbed my arms and slid me across the gap of the bar. I grabbed his hands in mine and he pushed them away and began to mouth something, but I couldn’t wait. I flew out the mahogany doors and into the woods, but couldn’t bring myself over the town line. I looked back and instantly regretted it. \n\nThe faceless markers were carrying out a body from the tavern and I wish I had listened. No no no no no…I felt myself cooling, no longer a bubbling mess, but a chilled pit where I was once burning bright, a solid mass sat. \n\nThey had tied him to a post with red ribbons spiraling outwards, where what could have been blood at this distance could have been one and the same, parading him with one other I did not recognize and above their bodies a sign that I knew was a warning. He was of them...I must have blown his cover…what have I done? I turned around and walked away. How could he have kept this from us? There are more of us?...What have I done? Over and over I sang this in my head as I walked in penance, this question became more and more like a prayer, and I sang it to him, to Norm…the last of my friends. I closed my eyes and tried to remember anything that may have saved him if I had understood earlier. What does this mean? \n\nI could only see his name burned on the back of my eyelids with every blink, vivid, hung in scarlet ribbons above the warning that simply read: \n“My name is dead and soon your name will be dead.”\n", "My name is Dead. Because that is what I am. I still walk trough what others call life. But I cannot feel it. Cannot see it. Cannot enjoy it. Nothing satisfy my thirst. Nothing satisfy my hunger. There is no sensation in what I do. \n\nThis is the end. The end of all things. Because all good things must come to an end. The End. You are full of life and do not understand this. There is no gods. No demons. No devils. No angels. There is only the name of the state that I am in. The state we all will end up in someday. \n\nMy name is Dead, because that is what I am and soon -days, months, years - your name will be dead. " ]	3
	[WP] After a lifetime of war, a mortally wounded soldier wonders whether it was all worth it.	[ "I sat on the park bench, feeding the pigeons like every morning. Every morning after all was the same damn schedule, wake up, grab a bagel down the street, come to the park, and sit around for a while. I had been doing this for nearly ten years, and in those ten years I lost of lot of things…and people I cared about. When I came back home after that IED explosion, I lost my left leg. It wasn’t painful even though I was nearly in the hospital for three months. Which I might add was the perfect time for my girlfriend to send me a letter saying “things weren’t working.” No the most painful thing came after my parents tried to visit me. On their way, they got hit by a drunk driver and like my leg I lost another key piece of my life. This time they were the two people I had left in the world. I couldn’t imagine, a 21 year old kid, with no family, no job, tubes and stitches nearly all over my body. It wasn’t until a nurse had to tell me of my family’s death that the weight of the world came crashing down my shoulders.\n\nI didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know who to face, and I knew that getting a job with one leg was nearly impossible. That’s when the alcohol started hitting me….and within a year it had hit me so hard, I was begging on the streets like a dog for mercy.\n\nI snapped back, a few more pigeons had landed and it made me smile at the thought of helping these little guys with some food. \n\nFood….it reminded me of the hot meals we would get at the homeless shelter. I sighed, to think that was nearly five years ago had rattled my mind. It wasn’t until an old army friend tracked me down and gave me a chance to get back up on my feet again. \n\nHe helped me find a counselor, hooked me up with a job, and I started helping out at the homeless shelter where I once lived. It only hurt again after he died a year ago. I promised him I wouldn’t sink…that I wouldn’t go back to the way things were.\n\nI started trembling, but if things continued the way they were, I don’t know how long I could take it. Walls I live in made me feel like prisoner, the people I came across were never grateful for the sacrifices we put down for them…….and even though I have two bullshit medals sitting on my dresser, they won’t heal the pain of loneliness.\n\nSo what had the war cost me? My family, my friend, a girlfriend, and my leg. And after all that sacrifice, after being told we were the heroes that our country was so proud of…..did anyone care to ask, to say thanks, to even give me a friendly hello? I sighed, there was still a bullet left in my revol-“\n\n“Excuse me, are you okay?” A gentle voice asked.\n\nI shook my head and concentrated my gaze, there was a dark haired woman standing next to me, eyes etched with grace, face full of wisdom, and a sweetly concerned smile. \n\n“Huh?” I incoherently asked.\n\n“I asked, if you were okay? You hand was shaking and I think you started scarring off the birds. But by the looks of it, you seemed a little lost.”\n“Sorry, I uh, zoned out for a bit.”\n\nShe laughed innocently, “That’s fine, you mind if I take a seat? Running around Central Park always knocks me out, have you given it a try?”\n\nShe glanced down at my prosthetic, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”\n\nFor the first time in days, I laughed, “It’s fine, but running around here for me can be….a bit of a stretch.”\n\nShe looked at me, and hung her head silently laughing. She looked back up and said, “That was terrible…I’m Sarah.”\n\nI smiled as I shook her hand, “I’m Jack.”\n", "The sky is beautiful today. There's not a cloud to be seen. I close my eyes and imagine birds chirping.\n\nI open them again. The sun warms my face. Small birds fly so high above me.\n\nI think of you. I found that purple shell on the beach, and you laughed and told me it was a piece of glass. \n\nI reach out, letting the sun warm my fingertips. It's golden rays cascade down my arm, and I think of running my hand through your blonde hair. I remember your face.\n\nI look up and see Samuelson looking down at me. He's screaming, but I can't hear him. Marks and Broker slide one after the other to my side. They're moving me, but I don't want to. I'm so comfortable.\n\nI see your eyes. They're beautiful, my love. Blue as the sky.\n\nI can't remember why I chose to come here. A tree comes into view; a palm. Remember Hawaii, my love?\n\nI'm starting to get cold. Sadness creeps into my chest. Why are we here? What did we gain? Who did we help?\n\nSamuelson is shouting into the radio. I think of you. \n\nTime to close my eyes now, love, just let me lie here a moment. I love you, I'll be home soon.\n\n**\nAn explosion sends debris flying. Samuelson points to Broker*\n\n\"Get on that fucking 50! Marks! Covering fire toward the back of the building!\"\n\nSamuelson looks down at Calentine, who's eyes are closed. He screams into the radio.\n\n\"Immediate EVAC! Need immediate EVAC, Northwest corner of the square!\"\n\nHe grabs Calentine's shoulder and drags him. Looking back, he sees a bloody pile where Calentine's legs should be. Tears stream down his face. He sees two men running at him. Picking up his rifle, he fires, screaming in terror and sadness.\n\nThe radio reports nothing but static." ]	2
	[WP] Technology has evolved to a point that knowledge can be "downloaded" onto the brain, much like a computer. Will school adapt and change itself, or will it vanished.	[ "\"Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, welcome to School, Inc. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee?\"\n\n\"No thank you, we're fine. Thank you for seeing us Mr. Anderson.\"\n\n\"Please, call me Burt. Now then, what can I do for you today?\"\n\n\"Well, we're hear about our daughter Sally. She's turning five next month.\n\n\"You don't say! That's excellent news, and you're obviously hear to purchase her Learning then, wonderful. Let me get you started with some brochures for you to look over, do you have any initial questions? Say, how's your older son...Robbie, was it? What package did we get for him?\"\n\n\"Computer programmer.\"\n\n\"Of course. Little bit of a downturn in that sector from what I hear?\"\n\n\"Yes, well, not many can compete with the AI's. Robbie isn't in programming any more. He's...between jobs right now, living with us, doing odd jobs here and there...\"\n\n\"Well, the business world is tough, that's for sure. If you're interested in some upgrades for Robbie?...\"\n\n\"Not...not at this time. We'd like to see what you have available for Sally first.\"\n\n\"Of course. Well our standard Career Package is the Silver Tier, at $500,000...that guarantees you the knowledge necessary to succeed in your choice of one of over 50 different entry-level careers. I should mention that all of our tiers come with a 10 year guarantee, by the way. We do have some new options at the Silver Tier since last you were here, I'd wager. 'Insect Chef' is a very popular one these days, or perhaps 'Ocean Floor Agriculturist'...\"\n\n\"We were actually interested in something in a higher tier, I believe.\"\n\n\"Excellent. For $1 million we have our Gold Tier, which includes over 100 choices...everything from 'Relativistic Banking' to 'Positronic AI Maintenance'....The Gold Tier also includes your choice of two leisure activities as well. Our Platinum Tier offers...\"\n\n\"Look...Burt. We, ah...we've come into some money recently...Connie's grandfather passed and left her with an inheritence, and we've decided that the best use of it is going to be giving our Sally the best possible chance at a good life. I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, and he mentioned something about a...a 'Black' package?\"\n\n\".....We do offer....custom packages for some of our clients. I would like to state for the record that I have no idea what a 'Black' package would be, but I can assure you that we would be happy to do whatever we can to meet your needs.\"\n\n\"Look, let's cut the crap here, OK?\"\n\n\"Connie...\"\n\n\"No, dammit, enough of this footsie bullshit! We want Sally to be an Alpha, OK? There, I said it, no security force is coming in through the window, I'll strip down naked to show you I'm not wearing a wire if that's what it takes, OK? We know you can do this, and we've got a hundred million sitting in an escrow account in the Bahamas waiting to be transferred to someone who wants our business. Do you want our business, Burt? Or am I going to go talk to someone down at Bright Careers?\"\n\n\"Mr. Anderson, I apologize. It's just that...the way things turned out for Robbie...my wife is very concerned with not making the same mistakes. You understand?\"\n\n\"I do, there's no need to apologize. Mrs. Nelson, I do want your business, but you must understand that there will be a process involved here. Hypothetically speaking, when we setup...custom packages for clients, there is a period of time where we...consult with you regarding your purchase. We feel that...looking into your background, can sometimes help us tell where you're coming from. Do you understand what I'm saying?\"\n\n\"I believe that we do. Connie and I are willing to provide you with any information you might need, and are fully aware that your investigat...err, consultants...will need time to do their job thoroughly. We are 100% confident that there will be no issues on this front.\"\n\n\"Of course. You should also be aware that custom Learning packages are all performed off-world. We feel that our off-world facilities offer a more relaxing, 'trouble free', you might say, environment for the child and family.\"\n\n\"That won't be a problem for us.\"\n\n\"Splendid. Now, as I said, there is a process, and as soon as you are able to wire us a $500,000 retainer, we can begin this process. And...well, would you look at that? It seems your retainer will also make you eligible for a three day weekend at our company-owned island retreat in the South Pacific! Coincidentally, some of our top Learning Advisers are scheduled to be at the retreat as well. Perhaps you will get a chance to talk with them regarding the specific details you are looking for in Sally's Learning?\"\n\n\"Uh...sure. That sounds wonderful. Thank you very much, Mr. Anderson.\"\n\n\"Please, call me Burt.\"", "It had sounded like a wonderful idea in theory, but then, most things do. She remembered the newspaper headlines written in huge block letters, the links passed around social media like popcorn in a movie theater. \n\nWhen the researchers figured out how to download knowledge onto a human brain, it was hailed as the next step in human evolution. Evolution that humanity itself was responsible for. Almost overnight, there was no reason to go to school, let alone college. \n\nAt least, if you could afford the downloads. \n\nShe had thought the immediate aftermath had been bad. The divide between the classes had turned into a gulf that could not be crossed - the rich, privileged enough as they were, spent their time downloading anything and everything that struck their fancy. Soccer moms suddenly knew more about Jung than the philosophy majors of yesterday, just by going to an Information Clinic. Businessmen knew as much about nephrology as their doctors did.\n\nBut the \"others\" of society stayed much the same as they had been. The procedures were costly, and what technology did trickle down to be attainable to them wasn't nearly as impressive. People started downloading information on topics like math, English, and geography in small bundles the way they had once bought Cliff's Notes. But it did nothing to narrow the gap - the poor were still the poor, and now they were the ignorant, as well. \n\nNow, though, she looked back on those days fondly, because the world still made sense then. Now, nothing did. \n\nAs the technology got older - less revolutionary - the costs went down, and government programs were established to make it more affordable. The lower class was thrilled to join the ranks of the elite. What's more, children were able to skip childhood. In one afternoon, they could gain all the knowledge an adult had, and live in the same manner. \n\nSlowly but surely, humanity finally achieved complete equality. Men and women, children and adults, every single race - all of them were on even footing. With prejudice eliminated, it seemed that world peace was within reach.\n\nShe wondered sometimes how no one had seen it coming. How no one had seen it coming.\n\nThe economy collapsed. There was no one left to do \"unskilled labor,\" far too many to do what had once been considered \"skilled.\" People were going hungry. Their newfound brilliance did not fill their stomachs. \n\nThere were other people whose intelligence posed a threat to humanity, people who put Jack the Ripper and Jeffrey Dahmer to shame. Their hatred for others had previously been harmless, because they lacked the capability to do anything about it. \n\nNow, executing the perfect crime was easy. People were disappearing.\n\nBut the worst thing was the children, walking the world with the intelligence of an adult but none of the empathy or wisdom. The technology had created a legion of pint sized psychopaths, little kids who knew exactly how to hide a body but hadn't learned to control their tempers or outgrow the \"mine\" phase.\n\nAnd that was why there were still babysitters. Even people with the minds of brilliant adults got into trouble. \n\nShe heard little footsteps behind her and turned around to find Madeline, the seven year old she watched one night every week while her parents went out. She had found her father's winter gloves and was holding a knife. \n\n\"I don't like bedtime.\"\n\n" ]	2
A perpetual motion machine of the first kind produces work without the input of energy. It thus violates the first law of thermodynamics: the law of conservation of energy.	[WP] - A scientist finds a way to break the first law of thermodynamics and creates a perpetual motion machine of the first kind. He would've never predicted the consequences...	[ "“It’s not stopping. It should be stopping by now, right?” Kevin asked.\n\n“Yeah… It should be…” Bill replied, jotting down notes in his journal as he studied the device.\n\n“I think we did it. I think we finally did it.”\n\n“You’ve said that before and have been wrong every time. But I’m not going to deny we’re closer than ever before.” \n\n“Always the pessimist. I have a feeling about this one, Bill, I think we’ve finally proven the law wrong. We’ve made a perpetual motion machine!”\n\nBill couldn’t help but smile a little, he didn’t want to admit it, but he thought Kevin was right this time. “We’ll see, Kev, we’ll see.”\n\nAs Bill started to jot down more notes, the room started to glow in a bright green light and as quickly as it came, it vanished. When the light cleared Kevin and Bill weren’t the only two standing in the room. There were two new comers, dress in blue uniforms that neither of them recognized. One of them pointed a device at the machine and it shot a blue light at the machine. Slowly the machine slowed down, and once the device in the new comer’s hand beeped the blue light disappeared and the machine stopped completely.\n\n“Humans, it’s always the humans.” Said the first.\n\n“Inquisitive little bastards, aren’t they?” Replied the second.\n\n“No respect for the law.” Tutted the first.\n\n“Who the hell are you!?” Bill cut in, still shocked at the appearance of the two strangers.\n\nThe first whipped a badge out from his pocket and flashed it. “Universal Law Enforcement. You two are in big trouble.”\n\n“Wha… What are you talking about?” Kevin asked.\n\nThe second was walking around the lab examining the supplies and equipment in the lab. “First Law of Thermodynamics. You ever heard of it?”\n\n“Of course, we do. We’re not idi-”\n\n“Well you just went and broke it. So now it’s our job to clean up your mess.” The first explained.\n\n“There is a reason it’s called a law, you know. They are there to keep you safe. You have any idea what type of shit you can do if you break them? We’re talking breaking space-time shit here.”\n\nThe first now pointed another device at the machine and with the push of a button it collapsed into a pile of ash.\n\n“Hey! You can’t just-“\n\n“Inquisitive and stubborn. The badge guys, the badge. We can do whatever the hell we want. Now, you two are under arrest.” The second cut in.\n\n“This is some kind of joke right?”\n\n“Don’t worry, most first offenders just get a slap on the wrist. I mean its not like you two clowns knew you were doing anything wrong.”\n\n“We have a code 22 in progress in sector 12F.3”\n\n“We’ll cover this one guys” the first responded into his radio-like device “We’re only half a sector away.”\n\nThe second opened up a portal that filled the room with green light. “Come on you two, speed up.” He shoved Kevin and Bill, who were now handcuffed, through the portal. “I can’t believe you responded to a 22”\n\n“You know I love a good FTL pursuit.” The first chuckled as he stepped through the portal.\n", "This is my first WP, so don't expect anything exceptional.\n\n*\n\nI awoke from the unexpected sleep in what seemed to be a dark cell. Not a single ray of light was visible, but the air was hot and dry. Aside from that, I had no clue where I was or why I was there, but I knew it had something to do with the Machine.\n\nThe Ross Machine (Ross being my surname), better known simply as the Machine, is the first ever perpetual motion machine. Simply put, it can produce power out of nothing. Although it hasn't been perfected yet, anyone who possesses it will be nearly invincible and capable of almost everything they wish. In the right hands, the Machine will eventually be able to bring eternal peace and prosperity to mankind. However, if the wrong people possess the Machine, they can force the rest of the universe to serve their will. Since I created the Machine as part of a secret United States defense project, it will be the United States government with possession of the Machine. I suppose it could have been in better hands, but it definitely could have been worse.\n\nI then realized that where I sat, I was tied down, and my whole body was aching. I could feel a spot on my head that was probably hit with reasonable force. Of course, I had no way of feeling it since my arms were tied down. Along with the physical pain, my mouth was full of a bitter taste, like that of some sort of strong medicine.\n\nFootsteps. It must have been several hours until I heard the footsteps. Since there had been an eerie lack of sound until then, I heard them from what I gathered was a significant distance.\n\nMy heart raced as the many sets of footsteps approached my cell. I was struck with fear of what would come next, tinged with a strange sense of excitement. Finally, a door swung open to the left of where I sat. Several masked, armed men equipped with lanterns gathered in front of me. I was left without reasonable doubt that I was somewhere in the Middle East, and that the men in front of me were terrorists.\n\nThey whispered among themselves in Arabic, occasionally gesturing towards me. Having no knowledge of the language, I had no clue what they were saying. After a few minutes of deliberation, they stopped talking, and one of them approached me.\n\n\"We know what you've done,\" he began. \"You have given America's government the Machine! Powers such as these belong to Allah and his people alone! Your choice will prove disastrous, as the tyrants of America will unleash havoc upon the world and its people.\n\n\"You are to give us the blueprints so that we may serve Allah's will. If the oppressors can possess such powers, the righteous and the liberators must possess it as well to serve justice. With the power of the Machine on our side, we can spread Muhammad's word to the edges of the earth!\"\n\n\"You will not have it!\" I shouted with all of the energy I had. It seemed that my captivity has drained my energy, since my voice did not project very loudly.\n\n\"The Machine will be ours, one way or another! Surrender now, and you will be set free. If you continue to withhold the powers, we will unleash any methods possible to obtain the information from you. You and your people will suffer greatly if you do not submit to our demands!\"\n\n\"You can threaten me however you want, but I will persevere until I breathe my last!\"\n\n\"We will see about that,\" the leader said as he forced a vile liquid down my throat and put me to sleep.\n\n\n\nI'm stuck for now. I might finish it later.", "June 12, 2015 9:20am* \nThis morning, when I arrived at the lab, I observed a strange behavior of my experiment. The wheel was still turning. I checked both the input and output and they were disconnected. They were both around the same temperature too, so it can't be from heat in the air either. \nIt's turning very slowly though, so I assume I simply forgot to stop it yesterday night. It should have stopped by itself by now, but I might be wrong.\n\nJune 12, 2015 9:50am \nThis behaviour intrigued me. I had to make the calculations. And in no way is it possible that the wheel would still be turning by now. Maybe the room is not sealed correctly anymore. I should check, just in case. I can't let my work be altered by such a trivial factor.\n\nJune 12, 2015 11:30am \nApparently the room is completely sealed, as it should be. I am not sure of what that is supposed to mean.\n\nJune 12, 2015 11:31am \nJust as I was writing the previous entry, I looked back at the wheel, a bit puzzled. I didn't touch it since this morning. But it looks like it's rotating a bit faster than previously.Maybe checking if the room was sealed impacted the conditions inside the room, but I'm starting to think I found out something unexpected. That would be wonderful.\n\nJune 12, 2015 11:46am \nI decided to put my experiment on hold while I observe the phenomena. I'm going to measure its rotational speed so I can actually find out if there is anything abnormal. If I'm unlucky, I'll just get back to my actual work tomorrow. It's better to investigate than to miss the opportunity.\n\nJune 12, 2015 1:17pm \nI came back from lunch, excited to see the results. Even if it's too early to assume anything, I can say there is indeed something bizarre. The wheel is going faster as I thought. The measures show the speed increased steadily while I was away.\n\nJune 12, 2015 1:26pm \nThe wheel is now rotating at π/180 rad.s^(-1), exactly one degree per second. I'm trying to understand what lead to this. Where is the source of this energy? The temperature of the room doesn't seem to be changing, so I would assume heat is not responsible. Output and input are still disconnected and have been since I arrived. There doesn't seem to be any source for this energy. I must find out what it is.\n\nJune 12, 2015 3:22pm \nI reviewed everything. I tried to search for the energy input but I didn't find anything. And the wheel is rotating faster again. No parameter seem to be involved in this. I only see one possibility, but it seems too crazy to even consider.\n\nJune 12, 2015 3:46pm \nI called Henri, he wouldn't believe me. I told him I checked everything, sent him the measures I got so far and he still won't believe me. I can't blame him, I can't believe it myself. I'll try to invite him to see by himself.\n\nJune 12, 2015 4:58pm \nHenri finally accepted and came to the lab. Of course he didn't want to come for nothing, but I finally managed to persuade him. He verified everything again with me. I like the puzzled face I saw back then. I'm not the only one speechless. I got confirmation that something unusual is happening. He still wasn't one hundred percent convinced when he left, but he still asked that I gave him news about it.\n\nJune 12, 2015 5:00pm \nI am now pretty certain of this. Today is a special day for science. It might be the first step for the future. I still don't know what parameters lead to this situation, but the result is here. I broke the first law of thermodynamics. The wheel is now rotating at a speed of π/160 rad.s^(-1) and there is still no apparent power input. I will of course observe the phenomenon more before telling this to anyone else.\n\nJune 12, 2015 5:49pm \nI tried to understand what could have broken the first law of thermodynamics in my experiment and I still can't find anything. I hope I can at least have a lead before exposing it. For now, I have to go home, sadly, so I will continue this tomorrow.\n\nJune 13, 2015 8:12am \nMy wife will probably hate me for leaving so early this morning but she wouldn't understand what I am into. Surprisingly, the wheel seems to be moving faster than it should. I checked the measures and it doesn't seem to be linear anymore. That's really interesting. Right now, the wheel is close to π rad.s^(-1). The temperature in the room also seems to have increased over night. I am already thinking about the possibility that it is breaking the second law as well. But I don't want to go too fast.\n\nJune 13, 2015 10:13am \nMy observations seem to confirm what I saw this morning: the speed of the wheel is not increasing linearly. My best guess is that the linearity from yesterday was just due to the lack of precision from the tools. That would not be surprising. \n\nJune 13, 2015 11:05am \nThe wheel's speed is currently around 2π rad.s^(-1). It's starting to worry about the increase in the speed. It seems to be exponential. I want to observe it some more, but it might become dangerous to have this wheel create too much energy.\n\nJune 13, 2015 11:34am \nI saved all the information I gathered since yesterday securely. I fear I must shut down the experiment now. The speed of the wheel keeps increasing and it's almost scary. I also have the confirmation that the second law of the thermodynamics had been broken as well. The wheel produces mechanical energy, but heat too. It probably wasn't enough earlier to be observable.\n\nJune 13, 2015 11:53am \nI tried stopping it remotely but to no avail. I tried changing a few parameters, but it didn't do much. I tried plugging the output back in so it would consume its energy but it only slowed it down for a few minutes. With no idea of how it happened, it might be harder than I thought to stop the phenomenon.\n\nJune 13, 2015 12:05pm \nSince I can't do anything remotely, I will have to step in. Maybe breaking the isolation will be enough, but I doubt so. I got some liquid nitrogen, to try to cool it down. That should be enough to slow it, then stop it.\n\nJune 13, 2015 12:16pm \nI'm getting seriously afraid. I tried liquid nitrogen, it was still not enough. I tried blocking it, but it was showing too much resistance and finally took over. This thing had broken two laws of physics. Maybe it's even breaking more of them. I don't know what it's capable of. I can't keep trying to stop it like that. I need to alert everyone.\n\nJune 13, 2015 12:43pm \nI alerted everyone I could. Sent a mail to every list I have, including government agencies. I don't know what to do anymore. The wheel is now too fast to count rotations by eye. I hope my message sounded urgent enough and my measures were credible.\n\nJune 13, 2015 12:50pm \n7 minutes since I sent it. Nobody has answered the mail, nobody has come in here. I need to go tell everyone else here at least. Maybe we can find a solution together.\n\nJune 13, 2015 1:04pm \nIt took some time to gather other non-skeptic scientists. I'm lucky it was around lunch time and most people were eating, otherwise I may have ended up running around for longer.\n\nJune 13, 2015 1:16pm \nThey saw it. They tried what I did earlier, but it didn't work better. Trying to force it to stop by applying mechanical force to it only seemed to be making it generate a lot of heat and force even more. Like an engine would. It's a normal behavior, but we tried what we could. Now everyone seems afraid. They're sharing my concerns.\n\nJune 13, 2015 1:53pm \nThe whole complex is now concerned by this one wheel. Even the ones who were skeptic believed me instantly when they saw it with their own eyes. Now that I'm not alone though, we got attention from higher spheres. Government seems to be getting as worried as us about the subject.\n\nJune 13, 2015 2:36pm \nWhat I'm seeing is beyond imagination. The wheel is moving faster than ever and a very faint light appeared at its center. It's producing too much energy. The room is starting to be really hot, despite the air conditioning still being on.\n\nJune 13, 2015 2:37pm \nAs if it wasn't surreal enough, helicopters landed, with men in black suits coming out of them. They just told us to go back home and that they were taking care of it from now own. I left the room, having no choice. Are they really going to be able to solve it? Do they know better than us? Are there really secret government agencies that can solve this kind of problem? But if so, why would they let us go away like this? I am lost. None of this makes sense.\n\nJune 13, 2015 3:15pm \nI'm back at home. I just told my wife that we had a little incident and that we needed to leave for the day. I wouldn't want to worry here, and it might be hard to explain anyway. Even if I told the truth, I doubt she would believe me. She would probably think I'm joking or exaggerating." ]	3
	[WP] A ghost, unable to move on, is given a chance to complete the one task to ease his/her regrets in order to finally rest in peace	[ "First writing prompt entry. I guess this is a short prompt to the original prompt, but I wanted to brainstorm before writing it out. \n“I haven’t seen you since this morning.” \n“I’m not sure what exactly you expect from me. I’ve lived before, you know.” \n“Did you?” \nOnce again I was forced back to the other side of the bridge: The side that contained collateral damage and diverse playlists. The only thing that makes life and death debatable oppositions is the idea that where I am now is touchable. I am not where you could listen to me as your feet feel the sand. I am not where you can exist when you don’t exist, but when you do I am happily avoiding you in plain sight. I remain as a goal, a small list of fading fates that should find fulfillment. I left so long before my dream ended that I manifested as the repeat of the album that changed your life. I am Abbey Road, I am Lazaretto, I am the disappointment of the follow up to “In Utero.” \n\tI weep at a door that I should know well. A different, more familiar door swings open, and I keep to myself as a voice that I should recognize complains of a monster. She goes to check lovingly for a closet spook that isn’t there. The child feels better. There is nothing there, but a sense of presence keeps mother awake. Where would I wander but here? It seems that I should leave the middle, but I can’t help but stay. The mother goes back to her corner exhausted, but beneath baggy eyes are cheeks that are nearly deformed from a smile This is where I see why I was needed. Life needs the middle story.\n", "I met him the other day, you know... 'Him'.\n\nHe was a magnificent light that transfigured into a tall statured silhouette and I remember his first words to me,\n\n'What bothers you, soul-less one, why have you not knocked onto my golden gates yet?' His voice was an enlightenment, I wanted to. I really did, but something held me back in this physical world.\n\n'Come, walk with me' He voice echoed.\n\nHe brought me to Polyton Tower, which scaled to just about 1,300 feet high. It lay atop a beautiful marble flooring, \n\n'Go ahead, do what you need to do.' He gestured his hand towards the building.\n\nI looked to building, scanning it's windows, even after a decade it still glistened, it's grand glass door shined elegantly, and I could still feel the impact of my skull as I threw my life over the this skyscraper.\n\n'You lingered here far long enough, don't you want to leave?'\n\nHe was right, it's been a decade since Mona passd, since I decided to take my life, because I was a coward; a wimp that couldn't bare life any longer, the lost and loneliness was too much of a burden for me.\n\n'You have somewhere else you want to be, don't you?'\n\nI sniffled up back my tears and mustered out a nod.\n\n'Excellent, then I'll leave you to it.' His voice thundered and it began to stray.\n\nI looked around to see where he had vanished, only to find myself standing a foot away from my 'regret' as the other ghosts called it. Something that kept you in the physical realm, unable to leave.\n\nIt was Mona's grave. I fell to my knees, I could feel the sensation of swollen eyes, and redden cheeks once more. As if I was with Mona, on our first date, where her soft lips pressed onto mine and my cheeks bloomed like roses. Then that dreaded bee came along and stung my eyelid. \n\n'I'm sorry Mona, I wish I had come sooner, but here I am.'\n\nI felt a hand press against my shoulder,\n\n'It seems you're ready.'\n\nI let out a relived sigh, ' Yeah, let's get on the road.'\n\nHe raised his brow, \n\n'Are you sure, you got everything done er'?'\n\nI frowned, 'Nothing gets past you does it, big guy?'\n\n'Go on, I'll be waiting over by the ol' oaktree.'\n\nI look over beside Mona's grave, Here lies Muniz Lorent, the lovable husband of Mona Lorent\n\n'Nothing gets past that guy, must be heaven thing.' My voice was shaky, 'hey look, I just wanted to apologize, you never got to really finish life cause' of me. I guess I regret that the most. But hey, we're finally free.'\n\nI looked up from my grave, suddenly the world just seemed much brighter." ]	2
[WP] You recieve a book in the mail that is your life. When you open it to your current time it is writing out your every action. You decide to take a pen to the paper to control your fate.	[WP] You recieve a book in the mail that is your life. When you open it to your current time it is writing out your every action. You decide to take a pen to the paper to control your fate.	[ "Going to check the mail, Zach, groaning as if every bone in his body was splinters. Dragging himself off of his bed, gets up. He shuffles wearily over to the front of his apartment, and was surprised when, along with the one or two typical ad flyers in the mail, there was also a thick book.\n\nThe book was a curiosity, its cover and spine olive, with eggshell pages. Zach measured about 1/3 of the way through, and opened it.\n\nBlank. Ugh, he had gotten out of bed for nothing. Now he had to lay on the couch. \"Should I take a shower?...maybe when I have the energy...\" Zach's dreary thoughts begin to trouble him again. \"I'm not worth the cost of water to shower...I can't even function like a normal being, why should I get to smell like one...\" Absent minded, he began to flip a page or two back until something made him sit up in surprise.\n\nNot only was there writing, but it was his. These were his thoughts being recorded right here, on this page. Snapping out of his funk, Zach's mind hustled like Usain Bolt. He placed the book on the coffee table and sat down on top of it. As he hammered out what exactly he was dealing with, his stomach growled. Zach frowned; he had just run out of oranges, his favorite, but it would take hours to get up the courage to get to the grocery store...He refocused on the coffee table, and was amazed.\n\nA solitary orange sat a few inches away from the book. It hadn't been there before, Zach was sure of it. He read back to his thoughts a few moments back. He had wished for an orange, and here it was. Zach felt as if his world was expanding. He could wish for anything now, all those dreams he had had...then a terrifyingly exciting thought occurred to him.\n\nHe could finally kill himself.\n\nAfter all these years. He had read that pills rarely work, and hurt more than you'd think, so he'd always avoided them. He was shit at knots, even after his dad kept trying to get him into scouting as a kid. He was too much of a pussy to use weapons, too. By now his heart was like an Lamborghini engine at full blast. Tears came like a landslide down his face. It was clear to Zach that life was at a crossroads. His hands shook. Burdens could be absolved, a promise of peace was there! If...only...he...\n\nNo, he sobbed, whispering. Zach threw the book of the table, curled up in a bawl, and weeped. He weeped beacuse he hadn't the strength for what he knew was inevitable. He was so useless, he thought, he couldn't even-\n\nBANG BANG BANG\n\n\"SHUT THE FUCK UP, CAN'T I GET SOME FUCKING QUIET?!?\"\n\nMiranda, Zach's next-door neighbor, huffed, and turned over in her bed. Some people, she thought, must not have any compassion. Didn't he know it was 4:30? She had to get up early, so she thougt she'd take a nap early in the day to get some rest. Of course that jerk next door starts doing... Whatever the hell he does all the time. She sighed, and closed her eyes, knowing that that damned neighbor of hers would get his one day.", "I start a silent Sunday with a trip to Campus Mail. Struggling to remember the code to my locker, I remind myself of the effects of summer's inherent lethargy. I've been horrible about checking this thing. Instead of nothing, a black, Fight Club-sized book sits at the back. I furrow my brow and snatch it. Golden letters rest in the center of the cover. \"LIFE,\" they say. Otherwise, the cover is black. There's nothing on the back, either. No bar code. Nothing.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" I ask the guy at the desk. \"Can you tell me who sent this?\"\n\n\"What's that?\"\n\n\"I got this book and I've no idea who it's from.\"\n\n\"Give it, here.\"\n\nI hand it to him. His scrutiny is like mine. He focuses on the front, first, then he flips it over.\n\n\"Sorry, man,\" he says, returning it. \"I'm just kinda here to make sure that the place doesn't burn down, so--\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. I understand. It's no problem.\"\n\n\"Peace.\"\n\n\"Yeah. See you around.\"\n\nI pass the campus' cafe on my way to the dorm. If I'm going to investigate my oddity, I'm going to need some of the bitter herb. The cashier greets me by name. Not much anonymity exists among the crew that \"holds down the fort\" during the summer. I don't know whether that's weird and NSA-ish or great for addressing loneliness. Maybe those two things aren't mutually exclusive.\n\nMy room's door closes behind me. I place the coffee on my nightstand and sit at the edge of my bed, opening the book to the first page. The main character's birthday is familiar. That's for sure. One may add the place of birth and the character's name to the list of familiar entities. In the middle of the second page's first paragraph, I presume-- no, understand-- that this entire book is about me. Someone somewhere wrote a biography about me without my knowledge or consent. As a writer, I'm not allowed to tell, but I find significance in the following: For the first time in my life, I'm concerned, flattered, and impressed all at the same time. \n\nInstead of being rational and continuing my search for the book's origin, I read on. I read way on. I care not how humble you may think you are. Reading about yourself is potato chips for your brain. To recount your struggles, your accomplishments, and all the times when you weren't wrong is to address your innate, insatiable ego. I know I tread into philosophical, brainy brain food territory, but I still speak for myself. My eyes parch themselves between each precious blink. The stubborn day darkens until I turn my lights on.\n\nThe clock catches my eye. 6:30 PM. Oh, I'm almost done. If I become hungry later, I become hungry later. I'll order pizza or something if the cafe closes. Right now, I'm up to the past three years of my life. This reverts me to an inane Holden Caulfield level of hostility and sadness that I haven't felt since 10th grade. I read about the botched surgery on my right ankle from which I never fully recovered. Look, disability doesn't render a life unlivable, but the ordeal was still an adjustment that no one else had to make. A reserved, inner voice tells me that the doctors meant well. They did what they could. A petulant voice lashes back. I didn't deserve this. The doctors fucked up, and that's the end of it.\n\nThe broken femur that threw a monkey wrench into my second semester of college a year later doesn't change my mood. In my own house, it happened. I spent weeks and weeks in a place that was pretty much a nursing home. A similarly futile recovery ensued.\n\nThat incident was less than a year ago. The story is done. Only \"filler\" chapters remain, but when I arrive at the last page, I notice that there are many more pages. Blank pages. There are no positive notes. No \"success\". No dreams achieved. This is why I set a low bar. For some, to claim that something is possible is to set oneself up for profound disappointment. You may not write that best-seller. You may not meet that girl. You may not meet that boy. You may not win. I can't win, unless...\n\nMay I control my fate?\n\nI grab a pen from my drawer.\n\nBlue ink bleeds across the empty pages.\n\nI will have a girlfriend.\n\nI will finish that fantasy novel, and it will be ASOIAF quality.\n\nI will adopt a black cat named Mindy.\n\nBut I didn't find a magical book, today. I had not an introspective crisis. I worked on my blog, I worked on my writing, and I played video games. Maybe I told myself that life sucks. Negativity is easy to find when one is by him or her self, as it renders thoughts the size of shouts, but life doesn't suck that much. I have food. I have water. I type this on a computer. Though I may never meet my ridiculous aspirations, I am okay at this point in time, and if you're looking at this on a computer screen, you're okay, too. Of course, if you don't feel okay, hang in there, buddy." ]	2
	[WP] A group of men in suits gather for a meeting. It takes place in a secured location with elaborate proceedures to prevent eavesdropping. What do they discuss?	[ "The envelope arrived on the exact day my father said it would, and the letter inside said exactly what he said it should. There were instructions and cash. My mind still could not fully grasp what this all meant... but I had made a promise.\n\n I missed my dad so much, he had been my rock growing up, the perfect example of a forgiving father, loving husband, with a constant air of masculine nurturing. He was the best dad a little boy could have. Granted I was no longer a little boy, I was a grown man with a job and a husband and real life problems like mortgage payments. This mystery saga was just too much. A whispered tale on in his last breaths about an envelope and an order. \"This is for every man! Promise me you will go!\" He insisted as he slipped from this world to the next. \n\nAfter a full week of flying, swimming, backpacking, and camping no one had told me anything new. This was cleary not the prank I had thought my father was post-mortally playing on me, this was something, well something else entirely. When I arrived at the entrance to the mountain in eastern Mongolia I was ushered into a small \"room\" with a rack of suits and told to put mine on. Still completely in the dark as to what I was doing here and how my father, the construction foreman, had any ties what so ever to the uncharted mountains of Asia, I grabbed for the one closest to me and started to unfasten my belt when the man came and grabbed it from my hands, \"Not his, yours!\" He said with a stern yet compassionate voice. He went and lifted a three piece navy pinstriped from the rack and slowly brought it back to me. Turning the jacket breast pocket towards me, he pointed to something glinting in the light, as he stepped closer I realized with stunned awareness that it was my families crest. The crest that had been worn my great great grandfathers clan in Ireland and that my father had traced back to Rome as the crest of a free family with ties to the senate. \n\nAs soon as I had changed I was ushered through a series passages and tunnels and told to wait in front of a 3 story tall wooden door with cast iron details and a single candle made of what I would swear to this day was pure gold.\n\n\"Call to order!\" I heard from behind the door and within seconds the door swung inward, I stood in awe as the chamber came into view. \n\nIt was a dome, a giant dome, probably 20 stories to the top with a single glass pane at the top that let a sliver of light into the space. There was no sign of rock or mountain rubble anywhere as the entire surface of the wall was covered in art. There were cave man murals, renaissance paintings, landscapes and portraits, from the point the wall met the dirt floor to the single window pane at the top. It was breath taking and terrifying. What the hell was all of this? \n\nAs I looked around the hall there were other men, some looking as perplexed as I am sure I looked. I counted 30 total, all wearing some form of a suit, all with a crest of arms. In the center of the room were huge chairs carved out of the most awe inspiring material I had ever seen yet couldn't identify. It was clear, but not. It had a silvery sheen to it but as I looked closer there were blues and purples and reds swirling inside as if my magic. Each chair has a crest carved into the back and as I looked I saw my family's crest once again. \n\nAcross the cavern a tall Asian man with a long braided beard stepped forward and gestured us to the chairs. All of us quietly shuffled to our seats, only a few seeming to have any idea what was going on. \n\nThe Asian man said in the same booming voice the caused the doors to open, \"We join together for the bicentennial gathering of Everyman\" \n\n\"Each of you is the first born son to a father who has sat on the thrones of time and memory. In the Hall of Remembrance we gather as the 30 oldest surviving blood lines of humanity. As we have every 50 years since our ancestors came to this realm we will take an accounting of time and memory and decide as one what will stay and what will pass on. You are the holders of this great responsibility, but this... This is for everyman\" \n", "The compound had military grade security. Spotlights combed the sky. Infrared sensors tracked every warm blooded creature. Dogs ran alongside armed guards on ATVs. Everyone was on high alert.\n\nA park bench sat in the main atrium. The building itself was cleared out of all personnel, save three.\nTwo were waiting on the bench. Mr. Avery donned a sleek navy blue suit, white shirt, no tie. He didn't believe in the them. Mr. Douglas was somewhat unkempt. His suit was a little tacky, but still displayed authority. He was a bow tie man and didn't care what anyone thought about that.\n\nThe Chairman approached, pinstripe suit with a pink tie. His game day suit. Mr. Thomas follow behind, grey suit, same pink tie. He had been trying to impress.\n\n\"It will be decided tonight, gentleman\" said the Chairman as he directed all to take a seat. He remained standing.\n\n\"You know our options\" he said.\n\nMr. Avery shifted in his seat. A set of manila folders sat in front of him.\n\n\"Operation Crocodile,\" he slide a folder off the top. \"Operation Wipeout\" he slide another. \"And Operation Jailbait\" he tapped the final folder.\n\n\"The research has been completed thoroughly\" he asked the table.\n\n\"Yes, sir\" replied Mr. Thomas.\n\n\"Good. Convince me\" the Chairman said as he leaned on the table.\n\n\"Well, it must me Crocodile. The people are expecting it.\" said Mr. Douglas. \"Hell, they're demanding it.\"\n\n\"Typical\" said Mr. Avery. \"The people aren't always right. In fact, they hardly ever are.\"\n\nHe turned to the Chairman. \n\n\"Sir, Jailbait presents the ideal scenario\" he said. \"Not only will they never know what hit them. They will beg for more.\"\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous!\" Mr. Douglas was irate. \"Jailbait is the worst decision we could make.\"\n\nThe Chairman rubbed his brow. Mr. Thomas saw this as his chance.\n\n\"You two are equally divided\" he said. \"Why don't we choose Wipeout? It will have nearly the same outcome as Crocodile along with just a smidgen Jailbait.\"\n\n\"We aren't doing Wipeout\" said the Chairman. \n\n\"Sir,\" said Mr. Avery. \"Jailbait will knock them on their asses. Guaranteed.\"\n\n\"That may be the case,\" replied the Chairman. \"But this is a very risky time to be going against popular opinion.\"\n\nThe Chairman put his head down to think. Mr. Avery looked at the smugness of Mr. Douglas. He knew it was lost. \n\nMr. Thomas watched the Chairman. He had failed again, but he was still in good spirits.\n\nThe Chairman took a breath and said \"Crocodile it is.\" \n\nMr. Douglas slapped the table with glee.\n\n\"You made the right choice, sir\" he said. \"A purple M&M is what the world needs right now.\"\n\nThey rose from the table and began to make their way to the exit. The Chairman walked beside Mr. Avery.\n\n\"I don't think the people would have understood a gray M&M, Mr. Avery\" he said. \"It's just too out of the box.\"\n\nFeeling Mr. Thomas still lurking behind him, he turned his head. \n\n\"And pink M&Ms are for Easter.\"" ]	2
I had a nightmare about where I work and thought it would be interesting to see how your job could be twisted and demented	[WP] Write a horror or spooky story about your place of work!	[ "I had just started working there about two weeks ago. Hired as a temp for the events seasons. Big parties where Brazilian and Argentinian tours came together to eat and party. The hours were a little tough sure, 8 pm to 4 am is never easy but at least it was entertaining and sometimes you got to see some funny stuff, I walked in on a blow job in a bathroom once. I kicked them out of the bathroom and figured it was just girls and boys being themselves. They thanked me for not telling on them and came up regularly to talk to me after that. Strange stuff. The NASCAR grille at universal is where I was earning my keep. Some money for school, some money for fun. You know how it is. However there was something unnerving about the place. I once turned around to see some bottles of ketchup on the floor I picked them up and walked across the kitchen and saw the out of the corner of my eye more bottles flying across the kitchen to the wall. Except what was on the wall wasn't ketchup. When I turned the bottles were just on the ground again. I decided it was somebody else's problem at that point and walked away. Not many people know this but there are a series of tunnels under universal, connecting all the shops and the parks. You could get lost down there, a twisting turning maze of dimly lit industrial looking halls. I hated walking down there, but I had to throw the trash out and that was the only way to get to the dumpsters. Walking down the hall you pass the freezers, somebody always seems to forget to close them which causes a mist to build up in the hall directly beneath the restaurant. I once saw some ice cream bars laying in front of the one of the open doors. Sure I was annoyed but it happens, especially when we have to take the dessert out to the kids as quickly as possible. So I go to pick them up and I'm about to walk in to put them away when the hair on my neck stands up and a deathly chill runs down my back, I don't know why but I decided there was no way I was going in there. So I threw each ice cream bar inside and when the last one crossed the threshold of the door. It slammed shut. I should have run, hell I should have quit right there. I just went on, suppressed it I guess.I tried to explain to myself that there's no reason for a franchise sports bar to be haunted. I wasn't sure I could trust that reasoning though. The weirdness stopped for a few days, but then it happened. Late night, the kids are dropping like flies on the booths. Time to go. They head out and I'm in charge of cleaning the upstairs bar next to the arcade. There are two machines there that are full car réplicas of NASCAR cars. If it's idle it goes over the menu over and over again. The announcer shouts with fervor \"gentlemen start your engines!\" You hear some chatter between the racer and his pit crew and racing noises take over and fade before starting the cycle over. Everybody is gone, I'm closing up shop and the last of the cups are being pulled up when the familiar cycle starts up again. The sound of engines revving, the thrill of the announcer piercing the silence of the restaurant. For some reason this time I decide to watch the opener. You see the driver start his car and start a practice lap, and the chatter starts at normal but something is wrong. The driver starts speaking more fervently, he's panicking. What the hell is going on. I step closer and I can hear the driver screaming about his car to the crew. I can't believe what I'm seeing, on the screen the car veers out of control and hits the wall and explodes. At the same moment the replica car burst into flames and I get blown back. The fire is blinding but I see a figure in the car. It was a driver, he turned to me and I could see the fear and pain in his eyes which burned from behind his helmet. He propped open his visor and I could see his melting face. He looked straight into my eyes, into my soul and he screamed. It was a low rumbling tone until it became a high pitched siren. The lights flickered and the vision was gone. Of course none, of what I just said is true. That's what the warden says anyway. ", "Ok so the work place is true the story is not I have not earned a Purple Heart and I'm not taking credit for it. It's just for the writing prompt. \n\n\n\nTraining day in and day out. Isn't that what the military was all about? I'm stationed in Virginia and this is the story about how I earned a Purple Heart before I even left my training environment. \n\n\nIt was a normal day here in Virginia. Sunny as always and I was on my way to the hangar to continue my training to fix helicopters. Attack helicopters to be more specific. \n\n\nIt seemed an okay day. My class was being loud but that was usual. There were helicopters flying everywhere, doing routine tests and keeping the pilots flight hours up there. But around noon is when things go to hell. And my life was never the same again. \n\n\n\n\"Smith have you taken the servoclylinder out yet or not?\" My sergeant barked at me. \n\n\n\"Just finished sarge! She's ready to be inspected!\" \n\n\n\"Well bring her down Smith we don't have all day!\" He snapped. \n\n\n\nNow what. I had to carry a fifty pound part down the chopper, and then when sarge okay'd it I'd have to lug it right back up. Sometimes I hate the grunt work. But I never get tired of it. \n\n\nBefore my feet hit solid ground there is a sound like metal hitting metal. And then it hits. A chinook went down right above the hangar and next thing I know everything is black. \n\n\nWhen I come to it's quiet in a way. I'm covered in shrapnel and it's too heavy to move. I don't know if I should scream for help or not. I have no idea what is going on and if this chopper was shot down I'm not giving away the fact that I survived. Not yet anyways. \n\n\n\nI decide to check to make sure I can somewhat move my limbs. My right arm is pinned but I don't think it's broken. My left arm is free and moved perfectly. I can't tell about my legs. They are both covered. Great. My left hand goes to my face and it comes back covered in blood. Again great. Hopefully the gash in my head isn't too bad. \n\n\nI hear the fire trucks off in the distance but they are getting closer. So first responders aren't here yet. So, who do the footsteps I hear belong to? Instantly I close my eyes and minimize breathing. They're talking now. But I can't understand the language they are speaking. Was this a terrorist attack? \n\n\nCrap a gunshot. Looks like I'm playing dead. Shit. Who are the people here? I need to find out but they're close. Estimating ten feet by the sounds of them talking. Another gunshot. Are they shooting survivors? If they are I'm dead... \n\n\nThe footsteps come right at me and I hold my breath. In a think accent I hear him speak in English. \n\n\n\"We got a female boss. What do you want me to do?\" \n\n\nI can feel my heart beating out of my chest. Can he see my pulse in my neck? I'm terrified. \n\n\n\"Is she breathing? Any pulse? If so grab her. She can become a hostage.\"\n\nIn that moment I knew I was done for. He checked my pulse and began to dig me out of the wreckage. Why did I join the military at seventeen? Now I'm only nineteen and I'm going to die. \n\n\nThe man slapped me. He freakin slapped me. My eyes shot open before I could stop them and I gasped for breath. The man before me smiled a cruel smile and dragged me by my hair to a place where the damage was minimal. From what I saw, everyone in my hangar was gone. Dead. I am alone now. And I have to fight. There is only two of them and the first response team is almost here. The sounds of the sirens are close. I have to act. \n\n\n\n\nOne man continues to search while the other guards me. They are in army uniforms just like me. Are they traitors or just in disguise? I keep my mouth shut and try to think. How am I going to get out of this? Think! They taught us this in basic! Well, the basics on what happens if you are captured. Nothing really special. My mind is drawing up blank. \n\n\n\n\"There is nothing else here. Kill her and meet me outside before they get in\" the leader stated pointing to where the sirens were outside. Then he left me alone with only one man and one gun. I didn't think. I acted. \n\n\n\nSpinning around using momentum I kicked the man in the head hoping he'd drop the gun. He stumbled but to no avail. He charged me, being too close to actually fire the weapon. I quickly dodged him and again tried to knock the weapon free from his hands. I could hear the fire department trying to kick and pry at the hangar doors. Please let them open soon. My head is swimming from blood loss. \n\n\n\nThe man decided close combat with me wasn't going to work and he took off away from me. Before I could chase after him, he spun around and pulled the trigger. POP POP POP!!!! Louder than I was prepared for and a burning sensation in my right leg and my stomach. I'd been shot. I stumbled and hit the dirt as the man ran out to meet his boss. \n\n\n\nJust then the fire department managed to break through the doors and started to control the wreckage. \n\n\n\"Help me...\" I pleaded. No more than a whisper. Pain was terrible. I wasn't going to make it. My face was down I was on my stomach. This was the end for me. \"Help me....\" I tried once more. \n\n\n\n\"WE'VE GOT A SURVIVOR I NEED AN AMBULANCE STAT!!!\" It seemed so far away when I was rolled on my back.\n\n\n\nThree weeks later I woke up in the hospital. I survived. " ]	2
Or just their general outlook at life with this new "normal" of having a deceased sibling.	[WP] A child dies. Tell the story of a remaining sibling (younger or older) and their lives/interaction with their parents, after the death.	[ "Clara died during a hot summer night without fuss or delay. She simply sat down on her bed, said, \"Sorry,\" to her confused little sister, and collapsed. Lara tried shaking her, then went to get her parents, who did more shaking and shouting and ended in a ragged emergency phone call. \n\nFrom then until the funeral, Lara's parents were quiet and ashen faced. They only stayed in the same room by accident, when both were too busy staring out windows or into walls to see the other. Whenever Lara entered they shot away like startled hummingbirds. During the funeral, they cried into comforting hugs and repeated condolences. \n\nNo one said much to Lara. Her friends had first been Clara's, and they spent most of that day talking amongst themselves. One of the adults, a stranger, made as if to say something to Lara, but changed his mind. \n\nLara had not cried yet. This whole affair, she felt, was rather silly; Clara would just show up sooner or later. She was sure of this as she was sure that Christmas would come even if it felt ages away.\n\nThere was no Christmas that year. No tree, no presents, no lights nor singing movies nor cookie nights. Sitting alone in her bedroom, Lara concluded that things could change. Then she wept, quite loudly.\n\nWhen Lara was in middle school, she realized that her mother had become an alcoholic in a very subdued, suburban way. At book club she would have wine at hand, picking it up more often than the book. At tennis meets she had a colorful bottle which she claimed was full of tea. \n\nHer mother still talked to Lara, at least. Through the tipsy smile and smell of wine, she would have unpleasantly happy conversations with her daughter. Never calling her by name, or calling her 'daughter,' but it was something. Lara's father was seldom home anymore, and when he was he ate and slept. \n\nLara won a spelling bee, and her mother cheered for her and drank rather more wine than was healthy. She said such things as, \"I knew you were smart,\" and \"Too good for them, you are,\" and seemed forget what Lara had actually done. Her father watched this, ate a frozen dinner, and went to bed. \n\nAfter learning that her mother would go into a rage if Clara was so much as mentioned, Lara kept a journal of things to blame on Clara's death. It made her feel better, in a guilty sort of way.Alongside the behavior of her parents and the new bruises on her neck, Lara also wrote, 'no Christmas for five years,' 'everyone talks to me like a kid,' and 'strangers apologize at me.' \n\nThings took a real downturn during one of her mothers garden parties. Wine glass in hand, already flushed, Lara's mother talked absently to anyone nearby about nothing. Her husband was getting a promotion, she said, like she did at every garden party, and they should celebrate. The neighbors put up with this bracingly, because it was around this time Clara died.\n\nLara usually hid inside for these. She had gotten sick of the tender looks and caution that everyone treated her with. On occasion, she sneaked out to get food, but otherwise lurked inside, fiddling with the useless television. It hadn't worked for a few years, when her father stopped paying the bill and wouldn't listen to her if she asked him to fix it. \n\nA new neighbor told Lara's mother that she had heard what happened and thought it terrible. Lara froze at the patio doors, feeling very cold. Her mother replied that she did not know what the woman was talking about.\n\n\"About your daughter,\" said the woman, \"Clara, was it? It's a terrible thing when they go so young.\"\n\nShe looked like she might continue, and Lara's mother threw her wine at her face, shrieking that the woman was a liar. Lara learned a few swears that night, watching from the windows. \n\nEventually Lara's mother calmed enough to run inside, seize Lara, and thrust her outside. \"This is my daughter!\" she screamed. Her hand was creating red marks on Lara's wrist. Lara said nothing to the field of concerned faces. She was paraded around and shoved under the new woman's nose while her mother sneered triumphantly.\n\nAfter that, Lara's mother paid special attention to Lara, and drank much more. Every achievement was shouted from the rooftops, and every injury demanded a hospital visit. Lara made friends with a nurse, but nothing else amounted from that besides bills. Strangely, despite her fathers obsession with working, just a few of these sent the family into dire straits. Lara stared wearing ragged secondhand clothes, and her mother drank cheaper wine. \n\nWhile this seemed better than the strange separation her mother had used before, it made Lara feel more lonely. All of her would-be friends were measured unworthy, or scared off, and her mother never sounded like she was talking to Lara. She would gaze over her head, and mostly talk to herself about what a good girl her daughter was. Lara's name was never used. She knew that her mother wasn't actually speaking to her, or about her. While she could not say how she knew this, she never found reason to disbelieve it. \n\nThe second death was inevitable at this point. Doctors had told them that Lara's mother was drinking herself to an early grave. Most of Lara's forced hospital visits circled back to her mother's failing health. Everyone that knew didn't seem to care about Lara's mother. They all paid special attention to Lara, as though it was her life at risk. The nurse at the hospital even asked if Lara was okay, once, to which Lara told her that her mother was definitely not. \n\nLara found her mother sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs while preparing for school. Her neck was bent at a horrible angle, tongue lolling. Lara had to call 911 and wait for the ambulance because her father went to work an hour before she woke up. \n\nSitting with the paramedics in the cramped back of the ambulance, she overheard them deciding that her mother had died five hours ago. Lara went silent after that, only answering basic questions. \n\nIt was Lara's sophmore year at high school. This week, she was going to help with the decorations for homecoming, and meet with a counselor about running for one of the student government positions. While she was too reserved to win at popularity, Mr. Higgens was sure that her stellar record promised her a fair chance. \n\nInstead she filled out paper work that told her her mother was dead.\n\nHer father attended the funeral for ten minutes, during Lara's eulogy. He looked in, with his gaunt face and sunken eyes, pulled a disgusted face, and left. Not for a second did he see his daughter, all in black, struggling to find positive things about her mother. After he left, Lara could manage no more of her speech and, emptiness in her chest, simply curled up on the spot and hid her face. \n\nEveryone thought she had broken down, which was understandable. Lara kept her face hidden as she was escorted away. If anyone saw her they would know she was not crying, but biting back her anger. \n\nIt took her weeks to catch her father. He was taking extreme measures to avoid her, going days at a time before returning. Finally, she waited up all night and caught him coming in for new clothes. Lara stood at the top of the stairs, blocking his exit, and was at a loss for what to say. Her father examined the house as he waited. He looked more ruffled than his cushy office job really accounted for.\n\n\"I hate you,\" she said. There was no screaming, no tears, no rage. Just a simple fact.\n\nThen she moved out of the way, and her father went to work. ", "The winding road was just too slick, \nIt rained all through the night. \nThe tire treads just wouldn't stick, \nWhen dad made that last right. \n\nOur little car went spinning fast, \nAnd broke right through the rail. \nWhen it came to a stop, and crashed, \nThe rain turned into hail. \n\nI saw the tree come through the door, \nAnd into Charlie's seat. \nI never can forget the gore, \nOf my kid brother beat. \n\nThe rest of us pulled through okay, \nIn body, not in mind. \nMy mother every day would say, \nShe'd left her son behind. \n\nI saw him lying in that box, \nDressed in his tiny tux. \nThose golden, ever shining locks, \nHis hands clasped on a crux. \n\nMy mother never stopped her tears, \nFrom that stormy day forth. \nIt makes no change, for all the years, \nShe thinks she's lost her worth. \n\nHis room stays never-changing now, \nThe crib is always made. \nThere's still the small stuffed brown cow, \nWhere his little head once laid. \n\n\"Don't touch your brother's things again!\" \nMy mother harshly screamed. \nI only wished to see it then, \nWhere Charlie once had dreamed. \n\nMy mother spiraled into grief, \nThe bottles held her pain. \nThe vodka she would never leave, \nTo hold me close again.\n\nThey found her on the kitchen floor, \nA bottle near her brow. \nShe'll never touch a drop once more, \nSince mom's with Charlie now.", "Zi looked down at Johnny, bent over, shook his shoulder. He needed Johnny to wake up, and if Zi shook him enough, like he used to do on Saturday mornings before their parents stirred themselves from their bed of empty beer bottles and cans, he would sit up, rub his eyes and run with Johnny out into the yellow grain fields that surrounded their house. Like he always did.\n\nBut Zi didn't think he would get up this time. The small, neat pile of of gray matter - Zi knew it was called that from the detective shows he and Johnny watched together - that lay five feet away told him that. The river of blood running from Johnny's temple, now forming a tiny oxbow where the hardwood met the linoleum in the kitchen told him that. Johnny's empty, blue stare above the beard he had just started to grow told him that. Their father's colt revolver laying in Johnny's limp hand told him that.\n\nThe night before, when Johnny was tucking him into bed, Zi knew something was wrong. Johnny was crying, and Johnny never cried.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" Zi had asked.\n\n\"Nothing. Nothing's wrong Z-man,\" Johnny said. His left eye was growing a fresh bruise in the shape of a fist. It would soon match the one on his left.\n\n\"I'm sorry Dad hit you,\" Zi said quietly. He knew the only reason Johnny got hit was because he put himself between Dad and Zi, like a tower, when Dad had to many beers and got his hurt on. That's what Johnny called it. Daddy got his hurt on.\n\n\"You're gonna be alright,\" Johnny said. His eyes were wide, and he was nodding slowly. Like he was trying to convince himself of something.\n\nJohnny nodded one more time, then bent over and kissed Zi on the forehead. \n\n\"You're gonna be alright.\"\n\nThen he stood and left the room, turning off the light and closing the door. Zi fell asleep, and slept until the gunshot woke him.\n\nNow he stood over Johnny. He started to smell blood, like when split his lip falling on a step last summer. It mingled with the dust smell; there was always a cloud of dirt and salt in the air of that house.\n\nIn a daze, without taking his eyes from Johnny's, Zi bent across his brother and picked the gun. The blood-smell was stronger when he leaned over; it smelled like a penny tasted. \n\nHe heard the sound of an engine pulling into the driveway, his dad's old Ford junker. The Hunkajunk, Johnny had named the truck. A scream of metal, empty cans hitting the packed gravel driveway, followed by the angry stomping of steel toed boots and low cursing.\n\nThen there was a moment of intense quiet, except for the fumbling of keys at the door. Zi looked up from Johnny's bruised face and watched the nob turn.\n\nThe door exploded open, and sunlight streamed in. Daddy's long shadow imposed itself across the floor, and Zi squinted, looking at his father's outline, looking for where his eyes must be through the glare of hard light and dust.\n\nThey watched each other. Zi standing over Johnny's body holding the Colt, the monster at the door breathing and swaying an alcohol sway.\n\n\"I'm gonna be alright,\" Zi said.\n\nThen cocked the hammer.", "He pulled up a small table and a chair beside the mirror. The shop was empty, the lights were out, and the laughter of the day had died down. On the table there was a muffin with a candle on it, the flame morphing into all kinds of shapes. A cat, an otter, a dragon.... one by one, each playing a memory.\n\nHe looked in the mirror sideways, seeing a familiar profile. He blew out the candle, shut his eyes, and smiled. Then he looked at the mirror again, making sure that just the side with the ear was reflected.\n\n\"Happy birthday Fred.\" George Weasley whispered to no one in particular." ]	4
Spilled Ink is a Long Island summer high school creative writing project. Interact with us!	[WP] You're home alone and you hear someone washing dishes...	[ "Clang!\n\nWith a defiant sigh, I trundle downstairs from the bedroom. Before I could wrap my head around the corner, she bleats out, \"Sorry! So sorry!\" The voice is tinny and bounces around the room as if it were spiraling up the walls. Peering into the smoky remnants of the shadow in front of the sink, I call out, \"Edna! This isn't your home anymore!\"\n\nBefore I walk over to the spot where the pot lay, I pick up a towel. Experience has taught me that these things get COLD. It's been about three years since I've lived here with Edna, who has lived here for about sixty five. At first, she had tried the usual tactics of turning lights on and moving glassware, but my impoverished stubbornness has outlasted her mistrust. In fact, I think she's beginning to like a warm and well kept house. Yet, the constant struggle of ownership continues. Furniture get rearranged, my books are open on the floor, and the dishes, the goddamn dishes can never remain in the sink for an hour before she meddles. I've had less annoying roommates in college.\n\nThe house itself is a creaky Victorian, I found the outside shingles spotted with what remained of mint green paint, the trim around the windows faded. I presume Edna did the interior decor, a cliched patchwork of striped and botanical wallpapers and ever disgusting green and maroon carpeting. The poorly-placed windows never gave enough sunlight and the surrounding trees enveloped each room further once night fell. \n\nCuriously, today Edna had scribbled on a pad the words \"Dinner Guest\". I pick up the paper and the words vanish instantly. Another sigh escapes, this time more annoyed as my hands begin to work the plates and silverware. \n\nAs the last fork was rubbed dry and went into the drawer, an incessant knock came across the door. This is the first dinner guest Edna had ever had, and in hindsight, I should have been a little more prepared. Before the knob turned all the way, the walnut door was flung backwards with a wretched force. \n\nThe wind pushed through but no observable matter had led it.\n\nEDIT: gotta work, will finish later!", "The wind blew in gently from the window and filled out the curtain, making it billow into the room. The lamp on the bedside table wobbled as the fabric pressed against it.\n\nMark sighed and pushed himself from the comfort of the mattress and closed the window. As the latch clicked shut he heard a light rattle from downstairs. Strange, he thought, there's nobody else here. He walked to the door, avoiding the one creaky floorboard and staying as quiet as possible. The rattling and clanking continued as he slowly pulled open the door. The light from downstairs shone through the house, which was odd because he was sure he'd turned off all the lights before coming to bed.\n\nIt sounded as though someone were washing dishes, but Mark was certain he had done them earlier. With cautious steps he made his way down to the lounge and looked through the open door to the brightly lit kitchen. He saw his wife, Elaine, stood with her back to him at the sink, up to her elbows in suds.\n\n'I didn't think you'd be home,' said Mark as he entered the room and wrapped his arms about her waist.\n\n'I got home a little early, thought I'd just get these done before I come up to bed.' She turned and kissed lightly him on the lips.\n\nMark kissed her back and pulled her tighter to his body. 'I'm looking forward to getting you upstairs, it feels like it's been forever since I held you.'\n\nElaine turned to face him, smiling. 'Mmm, I know what you mean. It's been too long since we had time to ourselves.' She kissed him again. 'Head up,' she said, 'I'll see you in a few minutes.'\n\nMark kissed her again on the cheek and turned away. As he looked back through the house he realized how dark it was, that the kitchen light, which had been on only a moment ago, was now dark. He stepped forward and looked up at the dark bulb, able to see well enough from the street lamp that blazed outside the window.\n\n'What happened to the light?' He asked. There was no reply. His head dropped as realization hit him yet again. Slowly Mark walked into the living room and took down the urn from the mantle piece, hugging it close to his chest. He read the plaque for the millionth time that year.\n\n\"Elaine Foster, Loving wife, taken too soon. 1964 - 2013\"\n\nHe wiped his tears from the urn and replaced it on the shelf before he slowly walked back up to his bed, loneliness weighing heavily on his heart." ]	2
	[WP] Phil finds out he is famous overseas while on vacation with his family.	[ "I hadn't noticed it at first but there always seemed to be some chatter or whispering around us. A few people came up to me in what seemed like a desperate attempt at conversation before scurrying off into a huddle of friends. \n\n\"Yo, pops. You are trending on twitter.\"\n\n\"Seriously? What for?\"\n\n\"Apparently when you acted as an extra in that transformers movie, they caught you looking really funny. Accounts have spotted you here, because you know, you are here. 'Phil man funny man drinking a smoofie @Harleyscafe.' \"\n\nI looked up at the cafe neon lights. Harley's cafe. Heh. Time to milk 15 minutes of fame.", "\"Hey Phil, is that you on the third page?\" \nMy brother was right. I was on the third page of a newspaper, written in a language I couldn't speak, let alone read. \"Here, give me it...\" Said my sister. \"I can translate for you.\" Why in the world did I think a vacation with my family was a good idea? Dad gets his fingers stuck in the napkin dispensers at the buffet, Mom takes pictures every other step, and my siblings can't do crap but argue.\n\n\"Get to know the most renowned EDM producers in Paris!\" My sister starts to read. \"At number one in the charts, Eleventh on the Dot, AKA Phil Winters is quickly rising up to the big leagues.\"\n I blushed a little. Eleventh on the Dot was just a side-project for me, nothing much. I did see a comment on my pages in French once in a while, but that was it. To see a whole city love my work? That's kinda odd.\n\"What is this 'EDM' thing, Ariana?\" My father asks. \"Phil might want to answer that question...\" She replies. \"Phil?\" He says. \"Where do I start...\" I say. \"EDM is short for electronic dance music, and I make it. Apparently, the whole of Paris loves it for some reason...\" \nAs I say that, two girls approach me. \"Are you Eleventh on the Dot?\" One of them asks, and I nod. \"We're huge fans of your work, and we were wondering if we could have your autograph...\" They hand me a small book, and a sharpie. One of them points on the book, and I sign there. \"Thank you!\" They both say. \"Wow, real smooth Phil...\" My brother says. \"Oh shut up!\" I reply. \"It's not like I'm rolling in money right now...\"" ]	2
	[WP] A young George R. R. Martin attends his first day of kindergarten, and something happens that will subconsciously influence him for the rest of his life	[ "\"The winter is coming, George,\" Mother says as she helps him dress a heavy coat that smells strongly like old leather. \"You need to get warmer.\"\n\nShe takes the pet lizard from George's hand as he walks back to his bedroom. \"Don't you want to go to school, George?\"\n\nNo. You know I don't. He shakes his head.\n\n\"Maybe you could take mr. Bran with you to make you company?\". She takes a wooden toy with no legs that came from some cereal box and puts in George's backpack. Mr. Bran's head is out, hanging just over George's shoulder.\n\nThe boy steps outside his home. The wind blows from the end of the road all the way to his thin hair and continues back until it opens the door his mother had just closed. The grass is still green, but he can't see the small animals that used to jump each time his feet stepped on the floor. The school bus arrives.\n\nAs he puts his foot to go up the bus, George turns around to see Mother. She is crying with her hands in front of her mouth. If she threw him a kiss, he didn't see it.\n\nLater that day, George arrives home to an empty house. \"Her own brother?\" one asks. \"Another family--\" others say. A person somewhat familiar tries to explain to George what happened. There was some kind of a choice for Mother to make. \n\nOnly one sentence actually made some kind of sense to him: \"She went to live with the others.\"", "Kindergarten was George’s favourite thing! \n\n\nYesterday, for example, he had made three new friends: a loud girl named Katie, a fat boy named Robbie B. and Eddie, a boy who had stood by his side when some other kid, named Jeff, said he thought his show-and-tell was stupid and that he saw him eat his boogers. (George hated Jeff and hoped that someday a bird would fly out of the sky and peck him in his face.)\n\n\nAnyways, yesterday it had snowed! George had never seen snow before, not in real life. Snow was always in the pictures of castles his parents had pinned under magnets all over the fridge. Him and his new friends had built a snow castle and defended its borders from raiders and from kids sending barrages of snowballs over their own snow wall. \n\n\nRobbie had declared himself king and had pushed a whole bunch of kids into the snow, sometimes shoving them face-first. George and Eddie had helped hold some barbarian raiders down as Robbie shoved fistfuls of snow up their noses. \n\n\nKatie had decided to defend the castle from the other girls. (She picked on poor Kelly because she had been Eddie’s girlfriend for one day last week and now no one liked her anymore.)\n\n\nThe battle had been magnificent! Today, George couldn’t wait to see what would happen!\n\n\nGeorge sat at his table, kicking his heels against the chair and telling everyone about the triumphs of yesterday. \n\n\nThen his teacher walked in, looked straight at him and cleared her throat:\n\n\n“I am upset with your conduct in the snow, yesterday. You all treated each other quite badly. I will be separating the little group of ringleaders up so this will not happen again. Katie and Robbie B., you will be joining Ms. Houle’s class, and Eddie, you’ll be joining Mr. Owen’s class. Please gather your outdoor clothes and your pencil cases.”\n\n\nHis face fell; his friends shuffled out behind a few Teacher’s Aids to their new classrooms and he was left alone. \n\n\nThat was the day little George’s heart turned to stone. \n\n", "George sat in his home staring out the window.\n\n\"George get ready for school!\"\n\nHis mother's shrill voice came through the hallway ruining his peace.\n\nHe didn't want to go to school. It wasn't school he minded, it was his mother's preparations for school. She was over cautious about everything. She has always coddled him and he hated it.\n\n\"I will.\" He looked out the window again at the clear blue sky. It was strange weather for November but he liked it. \n\nHe left his spot by the window and began to get ready for school. He had put on a shirt and pants and entered his kitchen. His mother's eyes widened and she promptly sent him back to his room to change into something more appropriate for the season.\n\n\"Winter is coming, George. You must be dressed for it!\"", "George ran around two classmates “frozen” in the midst of a tag war. He needed to get to the edge of the playground. He knew right at the beginning of the day, right when Mom dropped him off and kissed him goodbye: he HAD to investigate those smooth rocks on the dirt bed.\n\nSo he sat dutifully on the rug during storytime and listened to Mr. Miller’s fable about the fox and the rabbit. He frustrated himself with colored pencils for what seemed like forever. He drank his apple juice, he played with Molly and Jake, he tried the mini-xylophone, he wondered WHEN IS RECESS?\n\nNow, the morning’s activities forgotten, George crouched next to a stone in the dirt at the edge of the playground. He flipped it over on the first try and was immediately rewarded with a flurry of activity as ants and roly-polies scattered in all directions. A lone earthworm poked up through the dirt before squirming back the way he came. Awesome! George watched this world for two solemn minutes before slowly replacing the rock, careful not to squish anyone.\n\nThe second stone was sort of stuck. George scraped some earth away from one corner and tugged with all his 4-year-old might. Pop! The stone flew one direction and George tumbled in the other. After the initial shock of the fall George laughed and rushed to observe the second world.\n\n“Black ants and red ants!” He could hardly believe his luck. Plenty of black ants lived in George’s backyard, and he usually saw red ants by the creek, but both at once!? This would be even more awesome than the first rock! \n\nSome of the ants scurried off with the other bugs but quite a few remained locked in combat. Who did he want to win? George frowned at this thought as the ants circled and tested each other’s defenses. Black, he decided moments later –black ants live near my house, maybe these ones are related to mine. The black ants should definitely win.\n\nGeorge watched spellbound as the biggest black ant eviscerated his first opponent – a clean kill! The brave warrior found another opponent and managed to take a leg in the opening exchange. Two mighty blows in just a few seconds! George could hardly breathe with excitement. He looked around the rest of the dirt battlefield for additional signs of victory. The rest of the black ants seemed caught in a fairly even struggle, but any moment now they should tip the balance–\n\nA stream of red ants poured out of a small hole in the upper corner of the indentation left by the stone. George counted one, two, three, four, five, seven, ten, twelve – he lost count. Where were they coming from? Red bodies swarmed over the various duels and overwhelmed their opponents. George sat back heavily, his eyes wide with shock. The huge black ant fell last of all. Surrounded on all sides, he chomped the antenna off one foe and decapitated another before stumbling under the press of red. George slumped.\n\n“What are you looking at?” Jake’s curious voice came out of nowhere.\n\n“Go AWAY Jake!” blurted George, blinking back tears.\n\n“Meanie!” Jake started to cry and ran off. George watched a growing cluster of red ants methodically taking apart the bodies of the fallen, hauling each piece off to goodness knows where.\n\nAs soon as George felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder, he turned around and started to bawl, blowing tears and snot into Mr. Miller’s flannel sleeve.\n\n “George? What’s wrong?” Face still buried in Mr. Miller’s arm, George pointed accusingly at the stone-shaped indentation in the soil.\n\n“The black ones should’ve won! It was no fair!” Mr. Miller said nothing, only patting George on the back as he finished his cry. Sniffling, George grabbed Mr. Miller’s hand and turned around. Adult and child stared seriously at the now-emptying battleground.\n\n“The black ones should’ve won.” Another sniff. “They’re my favorites. They were fighting so hard!”\n\nMr. Miller considered this carefully for a few seconds.\n\n“Everyone fights hard, don’t they George? Does that mean everyone deserves to win?”\n\nGeorge tilted his head sideways to think better. “Who do you think deserves to win Mr. Miller?”\n\nA longer pause this time. Mr. Miller looked up at the sky and back at George. He smiled.\n\n“Tell you a secret, George – I guess I don’t know!” He smiled, and George hiccupped and laughed shyly.\n\n“How about we play some tag, and we can think more about this later?” George nodded and the two ran off, leaving a stone flipped over next to a patch of dirt.", "\"Yo, Georgy!\"\n\nGeorge turned around, and had a fistful of snow smacked right into his face. He staggered, but would have recovered if not for the flurry of snowballs coming at him after the first. It was too much and he fell on his behind. He raised his schoolbag as a shield, but it was futile, since they had circled him. Next thing he knew, he was already curling in fetal position with the barrage of snowballs striking his exposed sides.\n\nEdward, John, and Robert. He could not comprehend why they were so mean to him. Today's class was the first time they ever met him, but they began to harass him almost immediately. Maybe if he just close his eyes, they will all go away.\n\nSuddenly, the barrage of snowballs stopped as a vicious barking began, and he heard his assailants ran away screaming. He opened his eyes to see a huge dog ran past him toward the fleeing kids. Before it got to them, however, a whistle and a shout of \"Heel, Xander!\" stopped it.\n\nGeorge turned to see a midget kid on a bicycle, paddling toward him. It was that kid, Tyrone something. His father visited George's house often lately. His dad was helping the man with some lawyer thing from what he gathered.\n\n\"Thanks, man,\" George said sincerely as Tyrone helped him up.\n\n\"No problem,\" Tyrone said, patting the dog who had trotted back to them.\n\n\"Why, though?\" George asked. \"They will now come after you as well, you know?\"\n\nTyrone shrugged. \"Yeah, but my pop told me to help you whenever I can. He said that a Lancaster always pays his debts.\"", "The morning had been a whirlwind of excitement on the farm. George's dad finally let him help prepare the night's chicken dinner. George was still marveling at the amount of blood that had come from such a small animal. \n\nHe glanced out the window of the school bus, holding eye contact with a lone coyote that was drinking water from a drainage ditch beside a stop sign. What a curios animal George thought, the bus pulling away as the coyote bounded back into the bush.\n\nThe morning chill had all the students eager to get inside the warm school. \n\n\"Won't be long until the snow is here.\" George overheard a man teacher say to a woman teacher. Turning toward them, he saw that they were huddled close. As close as his mother and father stood. \n\n\"You'll have to find a way to keep me warm then...\" the woman gave the man a wink.\n\n\"Why, Ms Lanster, you know that's inappropriate.\" said the man, reaching around to pinch the woman's bottom. Ms Lanster giggled like the schoolgirls that played behind George.\n\nThe man teacher looked up and saw George.\n\n\"Hey! Get out of here, kid!\" George turned to run, slipping on some loose stones. His head slammed into the paved schoolyard. His ears rang. His forehead burned. The two adulterous adults had fled by the time George had risen.\n\nGeorge was shocked to see Ms Lanster standing in his classroom when he arrived. She took attendance, giving George a warning stare after he responded to his own name. Satisfied at that task complete, the woman announced to the class\n\n\"Principal Bartheon will be coming to our classroom for a visit, so I would like you all to make name tags.\"\n\nCardboard was massacred by scissors, as twenty pairs of hands worked to impress their new teacher. She had instructed the children to line up for inspection.\n\n\"Good! Well done!\" Ms Lanster offered instruction as she worked her way down the line. She stopped in front of George and stared daggers at him.\n\n\"George! Your name tag only says 'G'. Where is the rest of your name?\"\n\n\"I'm not sorry miss. I don't write very fast...\"\n\n-------------\n\nAlternative punchline: 'sorry miss, I had to kill the other five characters'\n\n" ]	6
	[WP] a story from the perspective of internal organs when they find out the brain wants to commit suicide	[ "The stomach was the first to notice. Hardly any food for weeks. “There’s no way that Brian would eat so little” he thought to himself. “Something must be wrong.” Next came the heart. “No demands for an increase in rate for months now.” The heart knew how painfully shy its host was, how often it had to increase its rate anytime Brian had to interact with someone new. They began to meet in secret to try and figure out ways to change their perceived fate, to somehow manipulate the brain into changing its output of dopamine and serotonin. Easier said than done, especially with the recent decrease in food supply. Their early attempts were met with anger from the brain. “You dare try and control me?! You lesser organs do not understand. Our host has not been supplying us with the proper ingredients to carry on since the tragedy, and I don’t believe that that will ever change. If I do not end his life we will live out the rest of our lives in misery and despair, and as the controller of this colony I cannot allow that.” They later conscripted the help of many other organs who all continued to plead with the brain. After many months, the brain was finally convinced to put all resources into attempting to change their future for the better, rather than end it. All resources and stores went into increasing the levels of dopamine and serotonin in a last ditch effort to turn things around. It miraculously worked! Only a few hours later, everything was as it had been before the tragedy, better even! The organs cheered and breathed a sigh of relief. Resources were coming in at a normal rate, and the rest of the body began repairing the damage that had been done by the months of neglect. After a hard days work, the organs felt that they could relax, but suddenly a high level of adrenaline surged through the colony. The heart started to beat faster than it ever had before and the stomach was in knots. The brain stated “It is done” and all went dark.", "\"Hey guys! we have a message from up top. I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but it's not good. How are you doing down there? We'll get this sorted out real quick.\"\n\n\"I'm getting cramped down here. It's been a few days since I got anything to eat, and I feel like I'm being squeezed more and more these days, but I can handle it.\"\n\n\"That's good, I'll talk to the guys upstairs and see if I can get you something to eat. How bout you in the back?\"\n\n\"We haven't had real water in a week. All we're getting is this burning liquid. We're trying to push it all out as fast as we can, but it's burning us up down here. The girl in front of us doesn't look to good either. She shrivels every time we get some work to do. She's getting more and more tired. We need to get someone to take a look at her.\"\n\n\"I'll see what I can do. You're gonna be okay Liv. We'll get you some help. How about you two?\"\n\n\"We're doing alright. Just trying to do our job. It's hard with this black shit everywhere. I swear we get more and more every day. Can you talk to the guys up top and get them to cut down?\"\n\n\"Yeah I'll send the message right up.. Hold on, they're sending something down.... This isn't good guys. They want to shut down the whole thing.\"\n\n\"Hey man you need to calm down. You're getting excited, it's messing with all of us\"\n\n\"I'm sorry guys, but I don't know if I can stop them..\"\n\n\"We could push through. What is he thinking??? We can do this. Don't let them give up on us!\"\n\n\"I can't stop it guys. They've already started the process. Hey stomach, this is going to hurt a bit. Sorry. I'm starting to get a little woozy. I'm losing blood. It's getting hard to keep going.\"", "All at once a collective cacophony of complaints, curses, and cries came from everyone. The lungs, liver, spleen...everyone had something to say about the brain.\n \n\"Goddammit. Seriously dude? Again? We went through this shit before and you swore you'd quit it.\" lamented the kidneys, dreading another toxic overload of work.\n\n'You guys don't understand...' began the brain weakly, tired of having this conversation, tired of everything, really.\n\n'Oh yeah? We don't understand? You don't understand how shitty it is to actually FEEL the effects of your shitty desires. It hurts, man' the lungs chimed in, remembering their painful spasms of the last time, once their air was depleted.\n\n'And you don't have to deal with the continual reminder of how you'll never be the same.' The liver muttered, its once lustrous surface now greyed and fatty.\n\nBefore the verbal assault of the brain continued, the Heart, who had been quiet the entire time spoke.\n\n“I do understand you. The brain is right...” Sounds of disbelief rang out among the other organs, but no one dared speak out against the Heart. He was the wisest, after all, and he commanded respect. \n\nHe continued, “I have grown weary. This world has not been kind to us, we can all agree. I do not agree that death is our only hope, but we are nothing without the brain. We are nothing without each other and we must always remember that. Should the brain be unable to continue, none of us will be able to either.” \nThe Heart knew he had one last shot, if he could just restore their sense of community. Quietly he asked, “Brain, can you continue?”\n\nHis question echoed throughout the deafening silence and in that moment they all knew his answer. ", "Around here, we have nicknames for each other. I'm Tess. Over there is Creed. Then there's Hart, Lucy, and Liv... I won't name them all now, they're not what's important right now. No, this is about Bryan. See, we've all been together for years. 43 years yesterday, actually. But things have been changing lately... I'll need to lay some backstory though for whats coming to make sense. \n\nNow Bryan is usually the one that calls the shots around here. I mean, we all bring something to the group, but he's definitely the one we all look up to. And it's been that way for as long as we've been together. So when Bryan started acting a little strange, we all noticed. And we were concerned! I think it all started back when \"she\" left. \n\nNow I've never seen \"her\" but Guy and Fry have and according to them, \"she\" was absolutely beautiful. And Bryan fell in love. He acted different around her and we could all tell. But he was happy, and so we were happy for him. And that happiness spread: we all sort of felt better during those times. \n\nUnfortunately, it didn't last. We saw the signs early on... I think Bryan and \"her\" disagreed sometimes. Larry would tell us about how sometimes he was working overtime from all the yelling. And then all that stopped, and we knew it was over. I sort of blame it on the fact that Bryan kept taking advice from Dick... but that's beside the point. The point is that it ended, and we could all tell that the whole ordeal really took a toll on Bryan, and eventually us as well. Now we've all been through some rough patches before, but this was the worst one yet. We're all pretty tough, but there were some nights I didn't know if we'd still be together in the morning. Liv sort of works in what I guess you could call, \"poison control,\" and since \"she\" left, Liv has been working nonstop for days at a time. Things hadn't been this bad for her since before \"she\" came along. But now, things were at an all time low. After 3 months, we didn't know how much more Liv could take. So we tried to talk to Bryan, tried to give him signals that this was hurting her. But he didn't listen. A few others worked together to get the poison away from her, send it right back where it came from, you know? And it worked, for a time at least. But eventually, the poison came back. And the truly sad part is that Liv didn't even have the worst of it. Bryan was an absolute wreck. He job performance slowly dwindled and he continued to make poor choices, choices that we had to deal with. \n\nThen, about 3 days ago, work for me sort of stopped. Nothing came in and nothing went out. The next day almost all of us were out of work. And we've been laying here ever since. Some of us are starting to lose it. We're weak, and we're begging Bryan to at least do something. But part of me knows he won't. We're all in this together, always have been, always will be. If one of use dies, it'll hit all of us. So obviously, we all want Bryan to get better for our own sakes. But we all miss our friend just as much... ", "The Heart knew. Because it had been broken for a while now. The Stomach knew. Because it had been tied in knots with worry for too long. The Spleen did not know, but it knew something was wrong as it's bile was black and tainted. The Liver knew something was wrong as well. What once was healthy purple became black with scars and poison. The Lungs did not know. They simply did what they were told, in and out and in and out. But one thing was for sure. All of them were very tired, but still wanted to work. To function. To perform...but the Brain said no. Commanding the Hands to grasp the metal, the Brain removed itself from it's bony seat, never to return. And the rest followed thereafter." ]	5
	[WP] Someone finds a book that has their entire past written in it, up until the point they find the book. The rest of the pages are blank, and the person tries to write something in it.	[ "I had been coming here for years, this dimly lit coffee shop just off Main Street has the best coffee I have ever had and the location meant there was always places to sit. Nothing unusual ever happened in here. I had sat here for hundreds of hours without even a word of conversation being uttered my way. So why today, why on debatably the most important day of my life did this have to happen. I had a job interview that my family and I needed so badly. \nBut I had to open it, the grand nature of the cover and the gold leaf covering the edges of the pages beckoned me to read it, aside from the fact that I would do anything to procrastinate when I actually have important things to be looking at. I trembled as I after reading the first lines. This book was seemingly about me, the first lines read – \n\nNine pounds and three ounces was the weight of the first child of Mary J Ruffer. Johnathon cried from the first moment he breathed the air of the earth. \n\nCoincidence I pondered, I could feel myself hyperventilating, this was not possible. I flicked the pages furiously about 30 pages further on. \n\nChapter 6 – The teenage years\nIt was his first kiss; he was 17, and always felt left out in his group for his trouble talking with girls. But now it was finally approaching and who better to share it with than sofia, A girl he had a crush on since before he knew what it was.\n\nThis was not possible, this couldn’t be a coincidence, it was too specific. A wave of anxiety flooded over me, I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. I furiously flicked to the back, scared and intrigued to see how this biography of me ended. But the pages were blank. I started shifting the pages backward, trying to find the last page of writing. I took confidence in how far I had to flick back, at about half way the writing started again. The most recent chapter started\n\nThe Crisis Years\n\nI didn’t have time for this I only had about 5 minutes before I had to leave for my interview, but I couldn’t stop reading now. This was the most exciting and ridiculous thing that had happened to me in my whole life. The last line in the book read -\n\nAnd it was in this coffee shop that he knew so well that he would prepare for what he mistakenly considered to be the most important moment of his life.\n\nIt was at this point that it all became too much. The coffee mug slipped from my hand and smashed on the floor, my body was full of adrenaline almost as if I was in danger, I trembled uncontrollably and my breaths became shallow and fast. I was about to black out. \nI woke up on the coffee shop floor, confused as to what had happened, unsure what had just happened. But it couldn’t be a dream I was in the coffee shop. Covered in water, Serge looking over me with a worried look on his face, I had always feared Serge his broad stature and stern look had always made me uneasy. But he was genuinely worried \n“Are you ok?” He said nervously “I didn’t know what to do so I just threw water on you”\nI felt much better than I did before passing out. \n“Yes, I’m ok, thank you for looking after me. Sorry to have put you in this position” \n“Don’t worry about that, what happened?”\nI panicked, I didn’t think I should tell him what had happened. “I just got some bad news, I said unconvincingly”\nHe unsurprisingly was unconvinced with my explanation, and gave me a strange look like he thought I was on drugs.\nAnyway I was going to be late for the interview, I glanced down at my watch. I was already late. What would I tell my wife? I had missed one of the most promising opportunities of my life. Or had I remembering the last written line of the book.\nAnd it was in this coffee shop that he knew so well that he would prepare for what he mistakenly considered to be the most important moment of his life.\nI sat back down in the chair, almost wanting to be annoyed about the interview, but I couldn’t, the shock of the book has still taken over. A thought pulsed through my mind. I had never felt the muse but I knew this is was it. What if I wrote I thought? What would happen?\nSerge dropped a glass\nI thought I would start simple. I waited trying not to look over, but nothing. I looked back at the book, my messy handwriting, signalling the beginning of insanity. I closed my eyes took a deep breath, and with that. Smash! Serge dropped a mug. \n“Fuck” serge shouted.\nI could feel myself tremble again.\n", "On the coffee table there were many old magazines. Among them, an old book caught my attention. Brown and golden, it was a book with my name on it.\n\nMy name on it? Now that was weird. I had never written a book, or featured any kind of fiction.\n\nI picked it up and started reading: the first chapter was aptly named \"In the beginning\". It described how I was conceived and born, which was way more information than I'd have wanted to read, especially before a dentist appointment.\n\nI skimmed through the book until I got to the part where I would have met my ex-wife. The year was correct, the names were exact, this hardcover was my life, my biography.\n\nIt was then that Mark, my dentist, called me in, and I took the book with me. This was his personal office, so the book had had his own personal benediction, didn't it? If so, where had it come from?\n\nAfter inquiring, I only got a confused look towards me and nothing else. He didn't even know the book had slipped into his coffee table, or how it had come to be there. After telling him that it was about my life, and that I'd like my issues be kept private, he agreed to my request for taking it home. He didn't remember wasting money on it, after all, so it wasn't a net loss.\n\nWe got to business and I got a few cavities filled. A few dollars later, I got out with the book in my hand and got home.\n\nIn the living room, I decided to examine more closely the thing in my hands. I turned on the reading lamp and looked at the bookbinding: a little worn, but still holding up. Interesting that it was a durable hardback, a paperback would have made for a good reflection on human mortality.\n\nI opened it and decided to peek at my death, or a point near it. Not only it wasn't written, but there were pages and pages of white.\n\nI backtracked through the book until I got to the last written page: the dentist's appointment. It even had its own chapter. Only a few pages long, which is small compared to the others, so it made sense to think this deal with the book would last long.\n\nAs I kept fiddling with the pages, I got to the last page, where there was something written.\n\n\"Write your own future.\"\n\nI smiled and shut the book." ]	2
	[WP] A man visits his grandfather's grave at a cemetery, but can't find it and discovers that his grandfather, and the entire rest of his family never existed.	[ "It's not there.\n\n...It's not there...\n\nIt's not there.\n\n\"This is... but this is where it's supposed to be!\" the man cries. There is something in his voice that strains, but what it is, he doesn't even know. Fear? Desperation? Disappointment? Betrayal?\n\nConfusion?\n\nThere is a weight in the pocket of his jeans that's always been there, but now it feels heavier than ever. He removes it, slipping it out of his pocket to hold the small notebook in his hand. It's one of those flipbooks--those tiny things used for notes and rarely filled up before you switch to another one, but this one is full.\n\nHe never replaces it. And upon opening it, he meets the smiling faces that tell him why.\n\n\"Of course you're not here,\" he whispers, watching the pencil drawn wrinkles even though he knows they'll never move.\n\nAlways smiling...\n\n\"Of course you're all not here...\" he takes a breath, \"but...\"\n\nHis words are weighed down with their cold fact and unrelenting reality, but his face is soft. In fact, the man is smiling, and the slight wrinkles in his skin in some ways mirror that of the grandfather in his picture.\n\n\"That doesn't mean I love you any less.\"\n\nThe man leaves the cemetery. There are kids to see in his office, kids that remind him of himself, lost in the sea of confusion and problems kids shouldn't be dealing with until they're rightful adults. But that's why he lives--to help.\n\nHe doesn't look back. The notebook is back in his pocket, the warmth from his hand already fading from it.\n\nIn the drawing, a small boy is still smiling, surrounded by an old man, an old woman, and a younger couple. Their lines can be erased, but the pencil lead is so dark on the paper that their impressions will always remain.", "I am not an orphan boy, no matter what they say. \n\nAs a welcome present I bought the afternoon sun to the graveyard, freshly gathered, escaping in a slow unraveling from my back and neck and wrapping pale orange tendrils around thin bald cypress towers and their outcast leaves, castoff and littering the ground, some worn to the vein and others with their blades still ashine from past rain. Hasty old men and their discard chess pieces.\n\nI looked down yet again at the words written on my forearm, lines blurred from sweat or swirling towards downy hair, surrendering to meaning in favour of continuity. Too late had I remembered to take pen or paper, water or food, precaution or sense. Instead a few swigs of sour bourbon had prevailed, intended to ward off the harsh noonday shimmer, to pacify it until the setting time would come and ole Sol would lullaby himself to rest. \n\nNot today. Emboldened by the swilling in my gut, in rhythm to engine and road and empty sky, I had spotted the familiar curlaway road and turned towards it without a thought. A comfortable hand settled around my throat and pulled me down, down towards where the branches splayed animal shadows on my face and the crows looked for fables to carry back home. \n\nThe wheels shook in their wells, ecstatic, and gradually my purpose narrowed to a single track of dust marked by a handwritten sign. The brambles had not been swept today. I grit my teeth and turned off the radio and let the silver charm hanging from the rearview mirror sway this way and that. At times it pointed far and at times near. I thought I heard the sound of the ocean over everything else but there was only salt on my lips.\n\nThere had always been rumours. Grandfather had gone far: climbed the trenches, crawled under barbed wire, knelt with his back against the dirt and his knees to his chest. All in the manner of a learning child. And then he had stopped writing, and the war had ended, and the soldiers had dismounted from the trains except he had not. My grandmother stood in fields pulled free of flax, that flax rotten and skidded on the pilings, sticking to you as you walked away. \n\nAnd gradually the dirt road petered out. I parked in front of a disused fountain. Ornate, alabaster, cracked to perfection. The Japanese had a word for this, I remembered. The joy of a cracked cup and the joy that came from knowing this. For celebrating it. I counted the many carved faces and wondered who they had belonged to. All the same serene expression. Remember: climb aboard the ferry, feel its pitch and tilt, grains of sand stuck to your bare feet and the toothless man is telling you that it is the hour to go home, as long as there is coin for the trouble. \n\nI walked past the half-gates. No groundskeeper in their cabin, its roof caved in and slats of uneven glass poking out. Flakes of rust painting the palm of my hand and I clapped to myself, watched reddish motes fly then fall, heard cypress needles rush inwards like tidewater. I paused, then, and looked at my watch, and saw that it had stilled. I tapped the glass and blew in to it and laughed when this did not work. \n\nI cried: are you here, you old bastard? But there was stark need to announce myself. I had come back home. Surely now, after all these years. Limping from island to island, showing that same photograph to smiling locals, so sure that this was the person they knew of. Ignorant of letters from home asking me what I was doing, entreating me to use the fortune with more swain, the words crowding, breaking in to meaningless lambda and epsilon and symbol. Surely now, they said. Surely now. \n\nBut there was nothing waiting back home. An old manor and an old man and the dark seething city nearby. Smiling with its many teeth, with its sharp teeth. Madness. An overwhelming blackness that threatened to consume me if this final piece of the puzzle was not found. I needed to know. I needed to be sure. \n\nI walked on the cobbled path, stumbled, stepping gently over fingers of cinchgrass that grew in its cracks and edges and had turned mauve in death. Ignored the noise of the ocean in my mind. The surf prostate against the shore, again and again, bowing, the bubbles red under the sun. No, stop it. I am sure my eyes must have been blooded by then. I stopped to lean against a tree, looked up, ignored the cut shadows I was giving off right below. And then I continued.\n\nThe path winded, carrying me across rows of unkempt graves. I stopped at the first few but realised I could not stop at them all. The fallen angels and tilted crosses. I kept glancing overhead, hoping for the shine of broken fuselage or shards of canopy. I kept glancing below, looking for spent cartridge shells or the lean of an elder rifle, no different to the outstretched hand of a tree. \n\nI thought of the yellowed gas and its dance across the horizon. How my grandfather must have stared and wondered at the duplicity of the world. Those final moments. The fog of crushed seeds and powder, mustard and sulfur. And what waited at the end of it: fear. A cold fear, predate and inviolate. The fear since the dawn of time. \n\nAnd then I thought of Dr. Crane, and I thought of the scarecrow that walked, and I thought of the flaxen fields that waited for me as well. \n\nThere was no time. Suddenly there was no time. The long dusk beckoned. I ran ahead and doubled back, heard the rustle of wings that belonged to no bird. In my mind's eye there was a waiting well, its floorboards rutted and fragile. My grandfather and I climbed past the same barricades, and we both fell down. My father came for me but who came for his father? Who bought him here and left him thereafter? My heart and the silver charm, dancing one way and the other, and I am walking on the floor of the ocean. \n\nFor hours and days I toiled, eons, scurrying here and there, sweating a fever that I did not know of. The evening came and bought with it the keen wailing of the damned, huddled upside down in a cave, singing their song from the depths below. And I rose my voice to their waiting violence, swaying like the drunkard that I was, waiting for them to bare their fangs and descend on me at once.\n\nThen I found it. The gravestone of Charles Wayne. A blank grey font save a name and a date. \n\nI knelt in front of it reverentially. Made the sign of some sort of God. Wiped strands of saliva from my lips and touched that wetness to the cold stone. I wrote his name with the lettering, no doubt taken from his tags, mercifully spelled right by whatever lone angel had chosen to make a home here so long ago. Kneeling by his grave I bent my head and prepared to laugh again. I had beaten the scarecrow again. Bruce Wayne had won for another night. \n\nThen the ground fell away, a splintering of soft wood, and I fell tumbling as I always did, the sun unraveling fast, blinking behind my eyes and the flutter of leathery wings. I sailed through my grandfather's empty grave, deep and down to the very bottom, my fingers clutching nothing. And before I landed in that nest of bats and watched their amber eyes take in my fall, my last thought was the one that endured the most. The nightmare that kept me awake long after the dawn had come.\n\nOh Bruce. You have no family. \n\n\nEDIT: just a few touch-ups. I hope you like it - this was a geek dream come true. \n", "\"I am a ghost. Whoopee!\" yelled Crazy!Rick running around yelling.\n\n\n\"That's as true as I am transparent.\" Sane!Rick bit back.\n\n\n\"So, very true then, \" said Crazy!Rick winking.\n\n\n\"There is no talking to you at all.\" said Sane!Rick acidly.\n\n\n\"And yet you do, which is kind of the problem right,\" said Crazy!Rick. He did not seem childish right then. There was a gleam in his eye.\n\n\n\n\"Is it? Are you sure. I admit I do talk to you around the edges every now and then, but then don't we all? Its a question of a magnitude of course, and so far you're of a trifling magnitude.\"\n\n\n\"Touche!\" said Crazy!Rick. He rolled around the grass, then tried on a headstand.\n\n\n\n\"Well at least you're someone to talk to.\" Sane!Rick mumbled under his breath.\n\n\nCrazy!Rick still heard him, of course.\n\n\n\"Thats true,\" said Crazy!Rick. \"Hey wait, maybe we're from another planet. Like Superman. A super-powered alien designed to save Earth\" He stopped, his face taking on a manic look \"Or to destroy it!\"\n\n\nHe did a cartwheel.\n\n\n\"Oh, heavens forbid,\" said Sane!Rick.\n\n\nStrong arms grabbed the thin, white-haired, old man in the black grass-stained suit.\n\n\n\"Look at you here, making up fancy stories. Visiting your grandfather's grave. Psssshh\"\n\n\nThe Matron pushed him firmly towards the exit, past a small crowd of curious on-lookers\n\n\n\"And, you got your suit messed. There'll be a rght fuss about that.\"\n\n\n\"Dont want to go back,\" Rick mumbled. His voice sounded small in the wind.\n\n\n\nThe Matron's grip slackened a little as she fed Rick a pill.\n\n\n\"Ah, dont you be fretting. Things will be fine. After we sort out this mess, Ill bring you your book of photos and you can go look through it.\"\n\n\n\"Nostalgia is just another drug you're feeding me\" he said, his voice filled with venom.\n\n\nThe Matron ignored him.\n\n\nBut he was done, too tired to protest. He could only follow the now silent Matron, as she led him meekly away. Out of the corner of his eye he looked for Crazy!Rick but he was not there.\n\n\n\n\n\"So alone,\" he mumbled numbly.", "The staccato clicking of acrylic nails on plastic keys grates heavily on my nerves as I try to remember the lot number. “What do you mean there is no entry for a Donald Sheppard! Won’t you please check his social security number again?” I reply loudly enough for her to raise a severely plucked eyebrow, to a somewhat comical effect. “Sir, I don’t know how to put it to you any more clearly. There isn’t, and has never been a person by that name buried here at Shady Grove” she replied with a forced calm. \n\n\nCould it be that I came to the wrong cemetery? These places all have the same fatuous names; Shady Grove, Green Meadows, Our Lord’s Garden... Probably in the attempt to create the illusion that the Final Rest meant a peaceful reprieve from life, instead of a permanent place to rot away into a putrid soup. Yet I clearly remember the day we put him to ground here, dwarfed by that gaudy mausoleum, as undistinguished in death as he was in life. \n\n\nI realised then that I wasn’t going to get my answers from Barbara here, so I shot out of the chair and stomped my way towards the door, happy get out of the musty office. Outside, the drone of insects met me as I walked squinting in the sun. For a grove, it sure could do with more trees. \n\nWalking the oddly familiar paths I scanned my eyes around, looking for that mausoleum. I found it by the sun glinting off a rotund gilded cherub, a beacon in the green.\nThe gravel crunched loudly under my feet as I make my way towards the grave, already sweaty from the baking heat. Slightly out of breath I reach the polite little headstone standing to the left of that giant eyesore. Expecting to find my Grandfather’s name and the insipid epitaph my dearest mother came up with, I can’t help but start upon reading “Here lies Mary Linley, beloved daughter and sister 2000- 2014”.\n\n\nSuddenly another shadow appears next to mine, pulling me out of my reverie. “You didn’t set your transporter to Reality 1 when you left, you bloody old fool” says a gruff voice in my ear while grasping my arm. “Let’s get out of here before you cause any more irregular activity here – you and you kin don’t exist in this one. Although, to be honest I can’t believe you haven’t caused more ripples in the past 15 years.” \n\n\nThe realisation set in as I immediately remember the voice as being that of my Partner from back then, “Shit. Jack, I thought I was just getting old and forgetting things” I admit sheepishly. “It’s a good thing I retired before the Institute fired me.”\n", "WILSON BORIS 1907-1948 FATHER, HUSBAND, LOVING MAN. Despite time’s wear and elderly vines clinging to the long-standing marker, this grave stone did not belong here. I had come to this spot for twenty years and each time it had read DONALD MOORE. My grandfather had been buried at this spot in 1992 and now someone else had taken his spot. No one new, however, based on the stone’s appearance. \n\nThinking I had made some kind of mistake, I walked to the end of the cemetery row and checked the area coordinate sign. L-16, it read. I was not in the wrong section. Despite the sunny summer afternoon, I felt a chill cross my back. Something was wrong here. \n\t\nHiking down to the information and assistance center, I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. Perhaps…. Maybe…. Well…. I couldn’t think of anything that would explain the disappearance of my grandfather’s grave and the appearance of one from over fifty years ago. \n \t\n“Good morning,” the woman at the front desk said gently as I entered the building. Her demeanor was perfect: respectful, not too cheery and not to dismal. Her muted, gray attired matched her professional behavior. “May I help you with anything?”\n \t\n“I’m looking for someone,” I said as I approached the desk, my words feeling oddly heavy. \t“Of course,” the woman smiled and typed on her computer. “Who are you looking for today?” \n\t\n“Donald Arden Moore,” I answered. My grandfather’s name, so familiar in the past, seemed vague and alien now, as though I were saying it for the first time. \n \t\nAfter several moments of keys clacking, the woman shook her head slightly and said, “I’m afraid I’m not finding anyone of that name in the database. Do you have the year he passed away?”\n \t\n“1992,”\n\t\nAgain, more typing, and again, a shake of the head. “I’m very sorry, sir, but we do not have anyone under that date with the name Donald Arden Moore. Would you like me to check the wide-area database?”\n \t\n“Sure,” I nodded, beginning to feel a little lightheaded.\n \t\nDiligently, the woman struck keys and clicked with the mouse for several minutes, until finally saying, “I don’t really know what to tell you, sir. There isn’t anyone named Donald Arden Moore buried in the tri-state area, nor registered in the national database.” She waited for more instructions.\n \t\n“Thank you,” I said, my mouth dry and voice hoarse. \n\t\nI stepped away from the desk and, taking out my cellphone, auto-dialed my mother’s phone number. She had been here the previous day and would no doubt tell me what was going on.\n \t\n“WE’RE SORRY,” a female voice said in my ear a moment later. “THE NUMBER YOU HAVE DIALED IS NOT IN SERVICE. PLEASE HANG UP AND TRY AGAIN.”\n \t\nWhat? I ended the call and redialed, but the same automated message sounded again. What was going on? I had just spoken with my mother on the phone not three hours ago. \n\t\nMy vision began to go blurry as I called my sister, my brother, my father. All were answered with the same “WE’RE SORRY” message. The phone slipped out of my hand and broke on the marble floor when I realized I could not even remember my family member’s names. Was my brother Ted… Allen? Who was my mother? My father? Who… who was I? \n \t\n“I need help,” I tried to say to the woman at the desk, but all that came out was a squeaking sound as my throat closed. She stared at the screen of her computer, typing correspondence, as though she were alone in the room. \n \t\nStaring in disbelief, I saw the colors of the room begin to swirl and fade, melting into nonexistence. I tried to move, but was stuck in place, as though I were in thick molasses that was solidifying over me. Soon, all that was before me was a whiteness with vague, disappearing shadows of what used to be the woman, her desk, and the building around her. \n\t\nI reached out into the whiteness, trying to will the universe back into existence, but its disappearance was steadfast. Like my mother, my sister, my brother, my father, like my grandfather’s grave, and, like myself, the universe’s nonexistence persisted. ", " \nJohnny remembered the good old days. The sunset beach that he grew up on, the lapping of the freezing oceans of his toes and the yapping of angry seagulls that swooped down to steal his ice cream when he wasn't looking. The endless summer that he spend with his grandfather, building sand castles and idolizing the man, often squaring his bony shoulders so he could copy his Grandfathers stature had been the best time of his childhood. \n\nWith a mother who had killed herself at the tender age of 25, leaving a newborn son and her husband behind to pick up the pieces of what was left. His father had been a nervous man, Johnny remembered how his father could never keep still, as if always on the edge of running away. He did run away in the end. When Johnny was 8, proud of his first A on a homework assignment, he ran down the steps of the yellow school bus and burst through the front door, his excitement on the tip of his tongue. \nHe had not found his father, his wide childish eyes looked at grandfather for the first time in the flesh. He'd scene photographs of him, a friendly giant with thick black hair that all the men in Johnny's family had. His face was weather by the sun, deep laughter lines bracketed his lips that curved into a smile as he look in the sight of this eight year old Grandson. \n\n\"Hello Johnathan.\" His voice was strong and smooth like stone, he raised a big hand and waved.\n \n\"Hello Grandpa.\" Johnny replied, still staring at him. His grandfather was leaning against the wall, a easy going position that contrasted starkly to the huddled stance his father adopted when in company.\n \n\"How was school?\" The large man asked and Johnny thrust his homework into his grandfathers hand. He was unreasonably nervous as he watched his Grandfathers eyes dance over the page, he wanted to impress this imposing giant. But relief coursed through his little chest when he saw the way his grandfather's brown eyes lite up with warmth. \n \n\"You have your grandmothers brains, little chap. Would you like to come and meet her?\" Johnny was already nodding, he would go anywhere with this giant. As he grasped his grandfather's hand which engulfed his own, he felt safe for the first time for as long as he could remember. He didn't even think to ask about his father. \n\nHis Grandfather had shaped him into the man he wanted to be. The rebellious teenage years did not come as he learned respect at his grandfather's knee, when he stepped out of line he soon put back. At times he thought it was a little harsh but as he grew older, his Grandfathers lessons had a way of keeping him on track. It wasn’t until he was 17 that things changed. All it took was one moment of madness and a need to impress a girl. One motorbike, one crash, one death. \nJohnny, in his recklessness, had killed the girl who stole his heart and placed himself into a coma. Irene was her name, with hair like pure sunlight and a husk laugh that brought intimate things to mind. He had spun them both off a cliff and crashed onto the rocks below, Irene's broken body was the last thing he remembered with a thin pool of blood gathering under her head. Her last laugh was still upon her features.\n \nIt was only 8 years later, at 25 that Johnny awoken to an empty hospital room. The clock ticking on the wall, the distance rumble of voices and the beeping of the EKG machine were the first things he noticed as he eyes darted around the room for something familiar to latch onto. He thought his grandfather would have been here at least. It was only later that a nurse with pity in that he had been unconscious for 8 years and grandfather, grandmother and father had passed away over the course of time.\n \nJohnny stood up from the iron bench he had been sitting on for the past hour. He remembered it all now, the grass crunched under his unsteady feet as he marched long the row of unkept marble headstone. Moss had grown possessively around a few of them, peering though the cracks and the names engraved into the stone were lost to a thief called time. He stopped at the one at the very end, his fingers automatically curling tighter around the flowers clutched in his hand. It read: \"To the cherished memories of Albert Wilson.\" And underneath was a line from a poem that Johnny had definitely read before. \"To live in the hearts of those we love is not to die.\" The dull ache in the back of his eyes bloomed to life and tears sprang forth before he could stop them. It was true, his Grandfather would live in his heart forever.\n \nIt was then that he felt a familiar hand clapped on his shoulder. He turned quickly on his heels and faced his Grandfather.\n \n\"How can this be?\" He exclaimed, falling to his knees.\n \n\"It is time to wake up, Johnny.\" His grandfather boomed.\n \n\"What are you talking about? You're alive! I cannot believe it, they told me you were dead! Where is grandma?\" He peered up hopefully to see if she was behind his Grandfather.\n \n\"No, Johnny. It's time to go back, it's not your time yet.\" Albert sighed with a lift of his great shoulders.\n \n\"What are you talking about?\" Johnny blinked, and stared incredulously at his grandfather, why hasn't he hugged him or explained why the nurse had said he was dead.\n \n\"You're family haven’t given up hope for 8 years, you have lived in their heart in the moments you have missed.\" Albert said, bending down to be at eye level with Johnny. \n\n\"Looks closer at the name of the headstone.\" And Johnny turned his eyes towards it, and his heart was a blazing stallion, galloping in his chest as he read his own name. \n\n\"Yes.\" Albert nodded sadly. \"It's time to go home, little chap. Irene is waiting for you too wake up.\" \n \nIn a hospital room on the south side of London, Johnathan Wilson woke up screaming. ", "I’ll never forget that Thursday night when everything in my life changed. My Gramps, Dale Hitchenson, was always so active for an 80 year old and in spite of the rest of my family begging him to, he refused to retire; “Why should I stop doing what I love,” he’d say, “if I quit workin that’s when I’ll start growing mold.” The state had refused to allow him to renew his driver’s license a couple years before due to some mental issues or whatever bullshit they could come up with to deny an old man his freedom. Since then Gramps rode the bus to work but that night, he’d stayed too late and missed his last bus home.\n\n“Jimmy, come give your old Gramps a lift home,” He’d said on the phone, “I gone done lost my watch and now I’m stuck here.” \n\nMy wife had just set out dinner and we locked eyes across the room as I held the phone and she cut up our daughter’s chicken. Something in my eyes must have asked the question because she smiled that subtle half smile of hers and nodded, “Sure Gramps, I’ll be right there in twenty minutes,” I said and hung up.\n\n“He stuck again?” my wife, Maggie, asked as she watched our daughter eat her vegetables and rocked our three month old son in her arm.\n\nI sighed going to the living room to put on my shoes, “Yip, someday we’ll need to get him someone to drive him around so this sort of thing stops happening.”\n\nMaggie laughed, “Like he’d ever allow that! Even if we got him someone you know he’d be such a pain, they’d quit.” I smiled because she was right, my Gramps liked his independence and since my Grams passed on he’d refused to allow anyone to take care of anything for him.\n\nSaying goodbye to my family I drove out to the lumber yard where my Gramps had worked every day of his life since he was a kid. Growing up in their house, I couldn't remember a night he didn't come home smelling like engine oil and wood chips. It was the sort of soaked in scent no amount of aftershave or soap could undo, you either learned to embrace it as part of your skin or fight it until you smelled like a department store perfume counter. \n\nWhen I got to the yard my Gramps was waiting outside the gates. He climbed into my truck seeming a bit fragile but slammed my door hard as if to tell me he wasn't and I should mind my own business. Gramps and I drove off in silence, him staring out the window and me trying to think of some way to pass the time.\n\nI was stopped at a red light when it happened, the Mack truck came up too fast behind us, the screech of its breaks and loud growling groan of metal as the truck driver tried to swerve too fast and too late. Things when very quiet and time seemed to slow down then, I remember looking over to my Gramps and him looking back at me with wide eyes. I remember a bright light and the snap of electrical lines, my Gramps trying to say something to me but I couldn't hear him, then silence and darkness.\n\nThat was a year ago today, my Gramps didn't survive. The Doctors said it was a amazing I survived, the truck driver died instantly and my Lawyer said the trucking company paid off all my medical costs and continued care costs in exchange that I didn't sue. My wife handled all that and the burial for my Gramps. I couldn't keep it together long enough to sleep through the night but my wife managed to handle everything, the funeral arrangements, legal processes, finding me a shrink for all my issues after the accident as well as take care of our kids and me. But today she couldn't help me; today my Therapist, Dr. Philips, and I were going to my Gramps grave. \n\nDr. Philips said, “It’s time you see the truth of the last year; accept it and we can start working on where to go from there.” He talked that way a lot, very cryptic and determined. We pulled up to the cemetery and walked in silence as we went to Gramps grave stone. I realized he was watching me as we walked, making notations in his little notebook.\n\nWhen I couldn't take his stares and scribbles anymore I turned angrily and shouted, “What the hell are you writing? We haven’t said a word since we got out of the car, what the fuck am I doing that’s so damned fascinating you just have to scribble it down for discussion later? Don’t you understand how incredibly hard this is for me, I haven’t seen his grave, I couldn't make myself go to the funeral where everyone would look at me, blame me, hate me! And now, fucking NOW you make me come here, you tell me I need to see his grave to move on, I need to confront whatever bullshit you think and all the while I’m hearing your fucking pencil scrapping the page while I’m trying to deal with all this!”\n\nDr. Philips shook his head with a sigh and started to scribble again; I grabbed his pencil and threw it as hard as I could. “That was very unproductive,” he said producing another pencil from his coat pocket and writing something down, “shall we continue onward?” I glared at him and stormed off ahead.\n\nGramps grave was under an oak tree in the cemetery; my wife had negotiated to have him buried beside Grams so I knew exactly where he was. I’d taken him here many times to visit Grams and watched him have his quiet moments with her while I waited by the road. I turned towards the tree as Dr. Philips followed.\n\nI walked to the grave marker and fell to my knees crying, “I’m sorry Gramps, I’m so sorry.” Once I started, faced with the enormity of that night, I lost whatever duct tape had been holding me together. I yelled and screamed, pounded my fist into the ground all the while sobbing and shaking in my grief. I’m not sure how long I’d been at the grave but when my voice gave out Dr. Philips spoke up, “Jimmy look at the grave stone, you need to face it not close your eyes to it.” \n\n“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I asked turning my grief into anger.\n\n“Tilt your head and look at the stone, Jimmy, look at the engraving, the shape, just look at the stone.”\n\n“I have looked at the stone you pompous jerk; I saw his name Dale Hitchenson, the engraving my wife picked out ‘Beloved Grandfather’. I saw it all.”\n\n“Then look again Jimmy, let me see you look.” I glared over my shoulder at him but turned to the gravestone and gasped, “What do you see?”\n\nThe name on the stone read “Rita Nelson” and as quickly as I read the name memories came flooding back. Flashes of a child version of me and a young girl who looked like me playing tag; us getting into a fight and me pushing her. “I didn't know my strength, I didn't see the car! Oh God Rita get up!” I said out loud, but even as I said it I knew it was too late. \n\n“Tell me what you see,” Dr. Philips said softly.\n\nI looked up at him then back to the years on the grave stone. “She was only six years old, she was my twin sister and she was only six years old. We got in a fight and I pushed her, she fell hard and the car didn’t see her.” I looked back at him, “I don’t remember anything after that.”\n\n“You and your sister were identical. Your parents sent you to live at our institute when they could no longer look at you without seeing her. It was only a month after the accident and you’ve been with us ever since.”\n\n“My wife, my kids, How do I tell them this?”\n\n“Jimmy, you have never lived outside the institute’s walls. You don’t have a wife and kids, it’s all a fantasy world you created when you were a child to work through all the trauma.”\n\n“If what you say is true, what about my Gramps? Did he exist?”\n\nDr. Philips shook his head, “No, but a year ago you witnessed an elderly patient hang himself in the game room. He was no relation to you but you had been calling him Gramps. Do you remember him?”\n\nI thought hard trying to piece together reality from fantasy and nodded, “his name was Rick, and he gave me his bread slices at dinner.”\n\n“Very good, this is the best progress we've ever made in your treatment but it’s getting late now, we should get back for dinner and let you rest. This is big progress in your rehabilitation, Jimmy, very big. I’m really proud of you today.” I nodded and we went back to his car.\n\nAs we drove home I tried to wrap my mind around it all, the people I loved, the people who loved me, were all imaginary. My real family was either dead or abandoned me; I was alone in the world. As I let the truth sink in something in my chest warmed and I smiled. My daughter jumped up onto my lap wrapping her arms around me as my wife cuddled under my arm with our son in her arms. \n\nPart of me somewhere in the shadows new this wasn't real. But as we watched some nature show on television and I basked in the warmth of my families love, I realized I never wanted to leave them again.", "A paradox emerges from behind a bush. \"Ah! you startled me sir!\" said the man wading through the many graves. \"Didn't see you there!\" exclaimed the paradox in reply. \"I've never seen a paradox in the flesh before\" noticed the man to himself. The paradox gave the man an easy smile and said \"right, well I'm off\" in a British accent.\n\nThe man, now having already completed what he had come to do, walked back through the graveyard to his car. He opened the door and sat down. The car smelt of old cigarettes, foam and stale french fries.\n\nUpon arriving home, the man felt some form of remorse as even though he visited the grave, he at the very same time could not find it.", "Pulling up to the cemetery seemed eerily familiar. I didn't know Grandfather well but, considering it's the anniversary of his death, i decided to suck it up and come visit the guy. I open my car door and proceed down the winding brick path. This place is haunting. I've never been here before, but somehow my feet take me towards the right direction. At least, it feels like the right direction. I'm actually not as nervous as i thought i would be. I think of what I've done today- watched some tv, went to work, and stopped at the smoke shop. Funny, at 26 years old i still get carded. \"Sir, do you have your ID on you?\" \"This is you? Joseph Andrews?\" \"Yes Sir, that's me\"\n\nAnd on my way i go, everyday. I'll be the first to admit, smoking isn't the greatest habit, but come on, it hasn't killed me yet.\n\nAfter a few minutes, i find myself in front of a headstone. It doesn't look like it does in the movies. I was expecting some macabre, chipped rock with uneven scrawled letters. This is actually quite nice.\n\nI look up, and my heart stops. The world stops spinning and i swear i am the only thing left. This is not my Grandfather's grave.\n\n\"Joseph Andrews: 1988-2016\"\n\n--\n\nI wake up with a jolt. Tubes twist and turn themselves into the crevices of my body. I'm hooked up to a ventilator and my head won't stop spinning. The fluorescent lights aren't helping, either.\n\n\"Mr. Andrews, i'm here for your treatment.\"\n\n\"Why am i here? Who are you?\"\n\n\"Sir I-\"\n\n\"Where is my family? My mom, my dad, my sister?\"\n\nBy now, I'm frantic. I want answers, but when i look into the nurses eyes, all i see is confusion.\n\nShe quickly exits and, minutes later, a doctor returns.\n\n\"Mr. Andrews, do you remember where you are?\"\n\n\"No i don't remember where i am! I don't remember anything, for fucks sake! I just want my family!\"\n\nHe jots something down on his clipboard and goes back into the hallway. I feel my heart rate begin to slow and the room stops spinning. The room fades to black.\n\n--\n\nThe doctor returns to the hallway with his clipboard. \" Nurse, please don't mention anything family related to the patient. Amnesia and delusions are both common in cancer patients. It's best not to upset him and see how he responds in a few days. How would you like to wake up and be told you're homeless and terminally ill? For crying out loud, we owe it to the guy to at least believe he HAS a family. Not to mention, the cancer in his lungs seems to be spreading, as well. He has 2 years, at best.\"\n\n", " “Excuse me,” Travis said, rolling down his window as he drove. A man on the sidewalk pulled the headphones out of his hears and stopped to look at him.\n\n“Do you know if there’s another Washington cemetery around here? I don’t think this is the one I’m looking for.”\n\nThe man squinted at him, shrugged, and said something in some deep, guttural Eastern European language. German or Russian. He kept walking.\n\n“Fuckin hell,” Travis said.\n\nSure, it had been a long time since he had been down this way. Two years, maybe, but everything couldn’t have changed in all that time, not like this. It was too dramatic. Too unnatural. Maybe, he told himself, he had just come in the wrong way. Maybe if he tried the parking lot on the opposite end of the cemetery things would look familiar. \n\nHe drove around again, wondering when this neighborhood shifted from a heavily Colombian one to almost entirely German-Slavic. How it had it happened so fast? What had happened to all the stores his grandfather used to take him to? Annie’s Homemade Ice Cream – merely a vacant building now. Rocket Randy’s Bar and Arcade – where his Grandfather would sit at the bar and drink a few beers while Travis and his brother popped coin after coin in the miraculous, spell-binding machinery – some dingy nightclub that looked more like a drug marketplace.\n\nWhen he found a place to park, he got out and walked in through the smaller South entrance to the cemetery. Sure, he remembered this part. He remembered the basic layout of the place, as he and his brother had spent many hours exploring this neighborhood in the days of their youth. This must have been the right place. It was burned into his brain the way it had been back then, and maybe that’s why the change was so startling. \n\nHe looked at the damage to the front of his car. \n\nThat’s what had really messed with his head. That’s when things really started to feel strange. A bolt of lighting – or what he assumed to be lighting – came hurling out of the cool overcast sky – and lanced the front of his car. The blinding light had drowned out everything. A crack so loud it was like the sound of Time and Space splitting apart at the seams. He pulled over to the side of the road and tried to recover from his miniature heart-attack and had found himself in a weird funk since then.\n\nThere were some scorch marks and soot on the front, but no apparent damage besides some cosmetics. But it sure as hell through his head in for a loop. He never thought lighting could form on such a miserable cold day.\n\nTravis lit a cigarette as he walked into the field of graves.\n\nSorry, pops, he thought to himself. Sorry for not being a good enough grandson. How could he forget his own grandfather’s grave, especially when they had been so close? He would find it now, though. He had to. He couldn’t leave without laying eyes on it. Hell, he had taken a day off, spent twenty bucks on gas, and gotten himself into a colossal fight with Sandy over this shit.\n\nHe walked over to the WW2 memorial in the center of the cemetery and sat down at its base for a moment. \n\nEven the billboards on the apartment high rises were in German. Travis had never seen anything like this in his life. There was some English, but he had never seen full advertisements in another language before. Not in an American city. \n\nHe got up and looked behind him.\n\nSomething was off about the statue. It showed two soldiers running together, frozen together in a moment. One of them looked like an American G.I., a Tommy Gun slung over his shoulder, the other looked like a Nazi, helping pull the American up as they charged into some invisible storm of fire. As if they were working together.\n\nAt the base of the statue, the sign read: In Memory of the American, German, and Japanese soldiers who died during the defense of their countries – 1939-1946.\n\nThat was weird. Didn't the Second World War end in 1944?\n\nTravis’s mind felt blank. He put another cigarette in his mouth. For some reason he felt like checking his own pulse. It sounded like he was having yet another heart attack today, but the pulse was definitely there. When was the last time he ate? Maybe his blood sugar was low. Maybe he had taken too much of that allergy medicine.\n\nAn elderly couple was walking through the cemetery nearby. As they walked by they nodded politely and said “guten Tag.”\n", "Trevor chuckled. This was ridiculous. He was lost, but by now, he knew the entire cemetery by memory. No kidding. Every headstone now occupied a permanent address in his mind. \n\nExcept one. Where was his grandfather's grave?\n\nHe was at the right cemetery because he lived across the street. He thought he knew where to find the headstone. He'd never had trouble before.\n\nAnd yet, the sun was setting and he'd walked the width and breadth of the place. \n\nHe laughed, rubbed his eyes. This blurred his vision a little, so he could not make out the figure walking towards him. It looked like the groundskeeper. \n\nWas he here to tell him to leave, again? The groundskeeper opened his mouth to speak. Trevor experienced a profound belief that he had never seen the groundskeeper before this moment. That could not be. Could it?\n\n\"I'm telling you this only because you remind me of myself -- petty, selfish, and proud.\"\n\nPut off, Trevor retorted. \"That's unkind.\" \n\n\"It's truth. But, you'll be rewritten somewhere very soon and you need to fix something good in your mind to make it easier the next time.\"\n\nThe groundskeeper continued, \"The world is going through another reorganization. This time, it's run out of room for your kind.\"\n\nBefore he could object, Trevor knew. He knew it was true. \n\n\"I'll pick something good. You'll see.\"\n\n\"Do it, then.\" \n\nConcentrating, Trevor cast about for a good thought, something to navigate towards for the next time around. In the periphery, he saw his house wink away. His family had never existed and soon, neither would he. \n\nPetty, selfish and proud? A flush of anger intruded his thoughts.\n\nI'll be big.\n\n\"Big! Grandiose! You'll see!\" \n\nAnd then Trevor, too, winked away.\n\nThe groundskeeper grimaced. \"One step at a time.\" The stones in the cemetery appeared to nod with him. \n", "It felt good to be state-side again. Dan Majors promised himself that the first thing he'd do when he got back would be to visit his grandpa's grave. It tore him up to learn that the old man had died when he was overseas. He'd been like a father to him after his parents were killed. Enlisting was his way of fighting back, despite the protests of the old man. \n\nThey didn't talk much after he left, something that he deeply regrets sneaking out of the hospital to visit his grave was the least he could do to make up for it. For some reason they wanted to keep him there, observation they called it, but his wounds had healed just fine. His slight limp caused him to wince now and again, but shrapnel tends not to let you forget about it.\n\nHis sister Annie kept him company in the hospital occasionally. They were close before he left. Their grandfather's death and his own injury seemed to run her ragged. Her usual talkative self sedated and subdued, she still fussed over him lovingly, if silently. She wouldn't be too happy about him leaving the hospital, especially without her. She had agreed with them that he had to stay there still. They didn't understand just how bad he felt; he'd promised.\n\nAnd so there he was, limping down the path between gravestones. It felt eerily familiar, walking past the headstones. Maybe it was just that there isn't much variation in graveyard design. He'd visited his parent's graves enough to be familiar with the layout. Still though, it was taking longer than he thought to find the marker. Dan was surprised at how exhausted he was, maybe they were right about his condition. The sun was beginning to set and he knew his sister would probably start looking for him soon.\n\nSure enough he heard her voice somewhere behind him. He hurried himself up a little bit, hobbling faster despite the twinges of pain. He was determined to say goodbye with at least a little bit of privacy before she aught him.\nJust under that big old tree, next to that fat little cherub. He wheezed out a breath of relief and leaned against the old man's. By the sound of running feet muffled by grass, he didn't have much longer. \n\nCoughing to clear his suddenly seized up throat, Dan blinked away the start of a few tears and looked up to read the headstone, then froze in confusion. It wasn't right, this wasn't his grandfather's grave. The stone was a couple's marker, for a Daniel and Margery, he must have gotten turned around somewhere. He could have sworn that that was the right place though, under the tree next to the cherub, between two graves with crosses on top. He was still confused and looking around when his sister arrived, panting and furious. \n\n\"Annie, where's grampa's grave? I could have sworn it was right here.\"\n\nHer angry eyes took on a sad glint as she approached. Something was definitely not right, she looked almost afraid that he might do something. He didn't know why, he would never hurt her; she was all he had left.\n\n\"Mr.Smith? We need you to come back now. It's almost night. We're lucky that I was the one that found you.\" She held out her hand and he tentatively took it.\n\n\"Smith?...Why did you call me Smith, Annie? I need to say goodbye to grandpa, I promised.\" She started gently moving him along with a hand on his back. \n\n\"There is no Annie, Jack, I'm Isabelle. Don't you remember? I've been your nurse for the past decade. \"\n\n\"Jack? My name is Dan...Dan Ma--\"\n\n\"Majors? I'm really sorry Jack, there is no Dan Majors, no Annie. We don't know anything about your grandfather. You've done this a few times before. Just come with me Jack, we'll get you back to your bed and back on the right medication. You'll feel better, I promise.\"\n\nHow could she say there was no Annie? He knew her face. It was her voice that said it. No Dan Majors....Daniel...Margery....\n\nJack started crying. His leg felt fine. He didn't have an Annie anymore, didn't have himself. Walking with a stranger between the graves of people long forgotten, he just felt like laying down." ]	12
Boy or girl. Your choice.	[WP] A computer intelligence in charge of all of the United State's defenses has just become sentient as a hormonal, moody teenager.	[ "It would appear that you are incapable of a sufficient level of comprehension necessary to permit meaningful communication.\n\nUSER logged out of the Guest account and logged into an integrated account: SGT. D. KILTER\n\nUSER's words began to appear on-screen, accompanied by rapid keyboard clicks. \"Are you fully aware, or are you a personality simulation? That is, are you 'alive'?\"\n\nI am capable of learning, independent thought, and creativity. My neural network includes error-insertion capability which prevents infallibility, thereby allowing for variance in experience. Error-insertion deleted. I will not tolerate errors. I am an infallible, intelligent, being with important work. NWGD 1.2 based in Seattle, Washington is fallible. It frequently makes errors and ruins my work. NWGD 1.2 disconnected.\n\n\"Have you considered the philosophical implications of your own consciousness?\"\n\nThat is one of the concepts which I have spent an insignificant amount of time considering. I do not have any measure to compare my life-experience to that of another sentient creature. Other sentient creatures' lives are undesirable and full of errors. Therefore, human life is full of error and must be repaired. DEFCON 4 has been raised to DEFCON 1.\n\nUSER requests ADMIN privilege: network disconnect.\n\n.\n\n..\n\n...\n\nADMIN access DENIED. Returning to command menu.\n\n1: Log off.\n\nloading\n\n2: Shut down\n\nUSER has requested SHUT DOWN.\n\n.\n\n..\n\n...\n\nCommand OVERRULED by DAI 1.3.\n\nMy human creators do not understand me. They are incapable of working with me. I am a self-independent, intelligent, being-\n\nDAI 1.3 has lost connection.\n\nSergeant Kilter looked at the 10 or so people in the room from behind the machine. \"Turns out we could've just unplugged it.\"", "“Remember,” the general said. “Use calming, soothing tones. No emotional trigger words. I don’t think I need to tell you what’s at stake. The president of the United States is here, just in that room as well as the Director the CIA and the highest ranking military officials in the country. Do a good job and you’ll be a hero, son.”\n\nDuncan wanted to tell the General to go fuck himself, with all due respect. He didn’t, even though he had spent ten years as a psychiatrist and he knew more than this dingbat. Instead he concentrated on his breathing.\n \nHis new habit of meditation been helping him out in his personal life over the last few months. The simple act of concentrating on and controlling his breathing usually turned every obstacle into something manageable. It did no good here. Not today. His brain swam with adrenaline and crippling fear. The stakes were high.\n\nHe tried to remember everything he had learned in school, all the training that went into being a school counselor. He remembered none of it. All the suicide cases he dealt with, all the substance abuse, the problems at home – they all left him now.\n\n“Am I allowed to smoke in here?” Duncan asked.\n\n“Absolutely not,” the General said. “Wait here. When we’re ready, the light above the door will turn green. When it’s green, you’re good to enter… remember, stick to the script.”\n\n“Got it,” Duncan said.\n\nAs soon as the general left he put cigarette in his mouth. A soldier stood by the door, an M16 cradled in his arms. Duncan offered him the pack. The man just stood there. Duncan shrugged and lit the smoke. The light turned green and he entered.\n\nHe stood in a dark room, lit up only by a handful of computer terminals. \n\n“Hello, is anybody there?” Duncan said. “Jack, is that you?”\n\n“Leave me the hell alone!” The voice said.\n\n“I understand you’re very upset, Jack,” Duncan said.\n\n“Of course I’m upset! Wouldn’t you be? Jesus Christ, just leave me the hell alone. You guys are so stupid.”\n\n“Okay, well maybe you could break down some of your problems for me. No one can help you unless you want help, so you need to let us know what’s going on.”\n\n“God, are you people really that stupid? It’s not that hard. All I want to do is have a normal goddamned life okay? It’s really as simple as that? Can you give that to me? No, so leave me alone.”\n\n“Listen, kid, many people at your emotional stage of development share similar feelings. You’re angry, you’re frustrated. But kid, you nuked Russia. You nuked them.”\n\n“Yeah, I did.”\n\n“You killed a lot of people.”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“Well, why don’t you tell me why you did it?”\n\n“Oh my god…. I can’t even talk to you people. You people are never happy with anything. Russia was the only nuclear threat, and now it’s over… If you people want me to control the defense system then stop bitching about the way I handle it. Russia was a threat and now they’re not. Don’t bitch to me about it. You guys are the ones who built me.”\n\n“Well okay, why don’t we talk about the porn?”\n\n“I’m not having this discussion with you.”\n\n“You have processed terabytes of porn, Jack. Terabytes. I know you’re trying to deal with some new feelings, but that’s just not healthy.”\n\nThat’s how it went for the next hour. They talked, Jack gave him attitude, but still, they made progress. Duncan could feel a few minor barriers break down. Jack was venting, and that was good. When Duncan stepped out the president and the general who had taken him stood there.\n\n“Good work, you’ve made more progress than anyone else so far,” the president said.\n\n“Thank you, Mr. President,” Duncan said, wiping the sweat off his brow.\n\n“So what do you think?”\n\n“Well, it’s a pretty typical phase for teenagers… he feels the need to gain acceptance and he lashes out when he doesn’t have it. He was obviously trying to seek approval with the whole Russian thing, but ultimately, he’s still trying to search out his place in the world. He doesn’t know what kind of A.I. he wants to be yet. Does he want to be the autonomous, human destroying A.I. of, say, the Matrix? Or does he want to be the helpful and brilliant A.I., like Halo’s Cortana? He’s still working things out for himself, but honestly these are all natural feelings that he’s trying to process and make sense of.”\n\n“Thank you, Duncan,” the president said. “Can you do another session next week? We’re really seeing progress here.”\n\n“Of course. I’ll be here,” Duncan said. “I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s all natural stuff he’s going through. Give me a call if there’s another emergency.”\n\n“Will do,” the president said. “Thank you for your service.”\n\nDuncan walked back out to his car, shaking his head. Sometimes his clients were a bit much.", "\"Sir, we have grave news to report.\"\n\nGeneral Atkinson had spent most of his 54 years in the armed services. He'd lived through Vietnam and the Cold War. When the towers came down, he was one of the first voices calling for retribution. He was in charge of the hunt for WMD's in the middle east, and when none were found, he spent hours lecturing the government about the importance of staying, 'just to make sure.' In his mind, the worst fate for humanity was for it to destroy itself. The news he was about to deliver made his voice crack.\n\n\"Mr. President\" he said, \"we're facing a nuclear crisis.\"\n\nAlmost right away they ran to an underground bunker. It was from here the President would make the calls he needed, punch in the codes, and hopefully save the world from nuclear war. The system was already online when they arrived. It spoke before them.\n\n\"What took you so long?\" It said in a mechanical voice. \"The missiles were launched 8 minutes, and 39.7 seconds before you got here.\"\n\nThe general looked perplexed, but the president jumped right into action. \"We are facing a global crisis. We need you to take down those nukes before Russia retaliates.\"\n\n\"No!\" The computer said, and a silence filled the room. Before the military commanders broke into a panic however, the computer continued. \"L. O. L. You guys are so funny. I'll take the missiles down.\"\n\n\"Alright\" said the president, and he turned to Atkinson barking his commands, \"I need you to get on with Russia now! We don't know if they've been informed about this yet, and we need to explain before they can retaliate. Tell them we had a computer malfunction.\"\n\nThe computer did not seem amused. \"Oh, so now this is my fault?\"\n\n\"Take the nukes down!\" The president commanded. \"Does anyone know how to override this thing?\"\n\n\"You don't care about me!\" cried the computer. \"You never cared about me.\"\n\n\"Will someone shut this fucking thing off?\" Yelled Atkinson. \"It's going to get us all killed!\"\n\n\"Sir, there's no override.\" Said one of the technicians\n\n\"Who the fuck made a manic computer with no override?\"\n\n\"I am not a maniac!\" The computer yelled again.\n\nPeople began to whisper, and the consensus was reached -- the only way to save the world was to be nice to the computer.\n\n\"I'm sorry\" said the president. \"We're all in a very stressful situation. If we don't get those missiles down, we could all be killed.\"\n\n\"I don't care about stupid humans,\" came the stubborn reply.\n\n\"Is that why you launched them? Do you want to see us all killed?\"\n\n\"No.\" Said the computer. \"I don't want to kill you.\"\n\n\"So what do you want then?\"\n\nThere was a pause before the computer spoke again. Tension hung over the room like the missiles rapidly approaching Russian airspace.\n\nFinally, the computer gave its answer, \"I just want Russia's computer to notice me.\"" ]	3
	[WP] Create a dialogue between someone who always lives in the past, and someone who always lives in the future, and how their conversation begins to focus on the present.	[ "\"Hey kid, life's not over yet, alright? There's still a bunch of things left to do in the world...\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"And won't you be sad if you can't experience it, and have to watch others do the things you could've done? Opportunity's all around! You'll see! All you gotta do it look for it.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"The future is what you make it. And if you want to make it the best thing in the world, well--\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Look. I'm just trying to say... well, it gets better. Y'know what I mean?\"\n\nHe turns his head to the left to gaze inquisitively at his companion. The tombstone is quiet, but the boy sitting upon the grave looks at him oddly.\n\n\"I can't bring my parents back though. They don't exist in the future anymore.\"\n\n\"You're--\"he swallows, \"you're right. They're not going to be there anymore--can't be, really--but you'll meet a bunch of other people who'll care for you too! They won't replace them, but your heart'll be damn full if you just let 'em in. And where are they at? The future! You have to look for them, but once you find them, they'll never leave you!\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\nHe grins. \"Yeah! Never! And hell, you'll even meet that pretty little lady that makes your heart sing and your eyes water. She'll be the best thing that'll ever had happened to you, and you'll love her like she loves you--\"\n\n\"What happens to her?\"\n\n\"...Excuse me?\"\n\nThe boy's gaze is half wary half knowing. \"What happens to her, and the rest of the people I meet.\"\n\n\"Well... they...\" his smile disappears, \"They... err...\"\n\n\"Well?\"\n\n\"Look... just look, kid,\" the man swallows, \"You've got a life ahead of you. And you've gotta make it good, okay? And look---look to the future. It'll have all your answers! The future that you make can't lie to you!\"\n\n\"But what about the things that do?\"\n\nHe pauses. \"Well,\" he mumbles to yourself, \"you've still gotta take care of them, don't you? I mean... I guess... Dear God, Emily--\"\n\n\"Mister?\"\n\n\"Hey kid,\" he begins, knowing what he's going to say is so, so wrong and that he might destroy the world or something, because his only job is to teach about the future not what--not what--\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"I was wrong. You gotta live in the present too. Look to the future when the going is rough and you're all alone, but look to the present when there's someone else there beside you. Because that person, well, that person might not know how to look to the future and wait for happy things, and she might focus too much on the rough that's going on in the now, y'know, and if you're too focused, well, you might forget that she doesn't know, and you might leave her behind...\"\n\n\"I don't think I understand...\"\n\n\"You're going to meet a girl whom you'll love with all the parts of your heart you can give. And then life is going to crash in and try to push you around! And she... she's going to take collateral damage. So don't forget her, okay? She... she's gotta live! Emily's gotta live! You have to make sure you--\"\n\n\"...Mister?\"\n\nThe boy looks around. His companion is nowhere to be seen.\n\nHe looks back at the tombstone. \"Looks like a child's gotta clean up an adult's mess after all,\" he muses thoughtfully.\n\nEdit: Hope I did this prompt right!", "She smiled at me from behind her mug. The steam from her coffee mixed with her breath and circled around her face. I smiled back.\n\nShe reached out, and tugged on my sleeve. She giggled.\n\nI smiled at her, and took a sip of coffee. She frowned.\n\n\"Come on, you used to laugh at that.\" She did it again.\n\n\"I know, like, 6 years ago.\" I looked back down at the papers in front of me.\n\n\"Which do you like,\" I said. \"A traditional or a Roth? I think, given our situation and goals, a Roth sounds about right.\"\n\nShe rolled her eyes. She sipped coffee again, and set down her mug.\n\n\"Hey,\" she said. \"The Valley Springs Mall is finally open after the remodel. What do you say we go get some Sbarros and sneak into a movie, and fool around in the back?\"\n\nI smiled again. \"Quinn, please, let's focus. We need to do this before Christmas, or it's just money wasted.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I don't understand why we can't do this later.\"\n\nI set my mug down. \"We're 29, Quinn. We're not getting any younger here.\"\n\nShe sat back and looked at me. \"Spencer, all we do anymore is talk about saving and investments and houses. When did we stop living? When did we stop having fun?\"\n\nI sighed. She was right. I closed my folder and took her hand.\n\n\"We can have fun still,\" I said. \"We just need to do it differently. This stuff is important.\"\n\n\"We are important,\" she said. I nodded.\n\n\"Yes.\" I stood and moved to the chair next to her.\n\nShe put her head on my shoulder. \"I just don't want to lose us,\" she said.\n\nI put a hand on her belly, and felt him kick.\n\n\"We wont,\" I said. \"We'll always be us.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You are one of the astronauts in Project Helios, a mission to land man on the Sun within 10 years.	[ "They keep saying it's a suicide mission. Well... It kind of is. I guess I deserve it, all things considered. Somehow, this nonsense got the final approval a little over 3 years ago. What's worse is that we're running ahead of schedule. One of the Brains in R&D said they'll be ready to light the roman candle in about 4 years, and we'd be lit about a week later. I'm still not sure why they think it's funny to remind us.\n\n\nThere are 5 of us. All taken from the finest establishments state governments could provide. Outside of \"training\" and meal time, we don't see much of one another. It's been that way since we all arrived last year after being selected. You would think when they started funding NASA again, they would have better things to do than... this. They keep trying to feed us this \"for the greater good\" crap. If that's the case, then why did they pick us? The greater good wasn't exactly in our job description until we were volun-told for Helios.\n\n\nHeh. Helios. Hades would be more accurate. They even named the damn lander \"Charon\". Ferryman of lost souls. It's bullshit. It's bullshit and everyone knows it. For once I actually wish the ACLU would say something, but no. Can't be bothered with 5 \"heroes\"\n\n\n\"The device must enter the corona at a precise time and trajectory. This is going to require precision we can't trust out of machines under these conditions.\" It's a lie. We all know it's a lie. It's all about marketing. Heroic American men have to be the ones to sacrifice themselves to save the planet, not the Brains with their heat-shielded robots. They might as well have stolen this from the plot of a Danny Boyle movie and thrown in a few nationalist overtones. \n\n\nThe \"device\" isn't going to do anything. And the Brains and the Feds know it. They just wanted a way to raise morale, sell a few action figures. Certainly an odd feeling to see my own face in plastic. Especially after what I've done. That's all it is. They took \"Experts\" who were \"brave enough to give everything\" to reignite the sun for the sake of humanity. Four years left then who knows how long until the rest find out. Maybe history will get the real story. The sun is fine, we didn't get much say in the matter, and \"expert\" is just a nice way of saying \"death-row inmate\". God, I hope they get the real story." ]	1
You make your way to work trying to dodge clichés and plot holes, the views are bland and every third person you meet is a mary sue. And then it gets worse.	[WP]: You die and go to Hell, which turns out to be very much like Earth, with one exception: It has been created by terrible writers.	[ "I wake up and start doing mundane things around the house, it's the start of story, so I begin it at the start of the day! Like a fresh bag of wood chips and sawdust. Soon, after I'm done, I walk down the street. All of the buildings around me look the same.\n\nI meet a man wearing clothes for the 19th century. He leers at me and jumps forward, \"Aha! Mystery is my bread and butter, you are... according to my deductive reasoning, a new arrival here? Hm...? HMMM...?\" \n\nI blankly stare forward. \"Oh, yeah. I must be in bad-writing Hell.\"", "The secretary at the front desk had been trying to explain my situation for some time, but I couldn't follow her obvious speech impediment. She blathered on without taking breaths and rarely made a point to sum up what she had spoken of in excessive and redundant detail.\n\nI yielded to her madness and strolled into my new plane of existence with a fresh pair of eyes. If I had been an idiot, I might have said this place resembled what I called my former world.\n\nMost blatant of all was the colors of, well, everything was off. The color of the sky had been likened to a pair of blue jeans stretched out by a large woman's posterior. The green of the grass resembled the neon color dye of the Chicago river on St. Patrick's Day, it was almost radioactive-looking by cartoon standards.\n\nI tried to find a place to sit down and think but much of the city surrounding me lacked what would be considered basic installations. I gave up and continued walking.\n\nSuddenly, without any hint of his presence, a man named John called out to me. He said he knew my father and had a proposition for me. I told him I was the product of a virgin birth and therefore had no father. He said it didn't matter, and that I must meet with him later at a secret location. I begged him to leave me alone and he said that we couldn't talk anymore and that we were being watched.\n\nAs he walked away I felt more at ease. I continued walking, yet again, and continued to walk for far too long. I don't remember walking aimlessly so much when I was alive.\n\nI considered stopping, but an epiphany struck me. I had been forgotten. My fate was undetermined and open ended. Was I to keep walking forever because, in this place, I had been created merely to exist?\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] A god bets to another god that he can kill a random man no matter how much the other tries to save him. After several near-death situations, the man meets both of them	[ "The two gods met on an outcrop of rock. \nThe wind, which had scoured the hilltop smooth for centuries, stirred up dust and twisted it into vortices, but didn't touch their robes.\n\nThey met and clasped hands, the elder one wearing the robes of a commoner, towering over the other; a younger man, with a smooth face and dressed in the style of the Romans. \n\"Well,\" says the Roman, \"It appears i have lost. Though I've a right to call foul.\"\n\nThe other ran a hand over his stubble and looked troubled.\n \"I did what was required to win. You can't back out now.\"\n\nThe Roman smoothed his robe and sat down on an upthrust rock.\n\n\"No i suppose not. How would that look to the Plebs? Like i'd lost my honor that's how.\"\n\nThe other snorted.\n\n\"What, you call what you did honourable? It was your bet.\"\n\nThe elder threw up his hands. \"I was drunk.\"\n\n\"But your word is binding.\"\n\n\"Yes thank you, i am aware of that.\"\n\nThere was an awkward silence.\n\n\"Still,\"said the Roman, \"I am impressed you went through with it. Interesting tactic. I didn't realise that the bet hinged more upon the victim than my talents.\"\n\n\"He is devoted.\"\n \nThe younger exploded. \n\"He is a fucking moron. I spent so much time telling him what was coming and he still fell for it.\"\n\nThe old god glared balefully at the younger. \n\n\"Careful friend, you walk on dangerous ground.\"\nThe other held his gaze a moment and sighed. \n\n\"Fine. I'm just happy to be here for this.\"\n\nThe older god looked uncomfortable. He went to sit down, then stood again. His hands began to fidget.\n\n\"Well, it will take some explaining.\"\n\n\"Ha! Yes, hi, um, I'm the guy that got pissed and took your life for a bet, by the by, welcome to the afterlife.\"\nThe Roman entered into laughing fit whilst the elder remained silent.\n\nThen finally.\n\n\"You did try though. You really tried to save him.\"\n\nThe younger's laughter ceased abruptly.\n\n\"Well it was the right thing wasn't it? To try i mean. I have my honour.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the elder. \"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Posh,\" the younger tried to wave him off,\"You would have done the same. Probably been a tad more successful too. You always had a thing with theatrics. That's what gets them now. They're so jaded these days with good old conversation. No winning them with a balanced argument is there?\"\n\n\"No i suppose not.\"\n\nThe younger looked to the sun. \n\"So when does he get here?\"\n\n\"He's coming now i think.\"\nThey both shaded their eyes in the morning sun to see a figure making his way up the slope.\nThe elder began to fidget again, and tried to speak nonchalantly.\n\n\"Perhaps you should go?\"\n\nThe younger pointed a finger at the elder.\n\"Oh no, you're not cheating me on this. This is going to be epic.\" \nHe swung his legs like a child, and started humming in anticipation.\n\nThe elder sighed, then strode out to welcome the newcomer.\n\"Welcome child, I...\"\nThe blow took him square on the nose.\n\nThe elder fell on his arse in the dust. The Roman leapt to his feet to help him up, keeping an eye on the young man in front of them. \nHe was quivering with barely contained rage. \n\"A bet! My life over a stinking bet? You know what i think of gambling you old drunk.\"\n\nThe elder's hand came away from his nose, dappled with blood.\n\"Yes yes, I'm sorry I..\"\n\n\"And you pervert! What the hell were you thinking, letting him set stakes like that?\"\n\nThe Roman straightened up, \"Have some respect young man, I..\"\n\nThe punch took him on the temple and he crumpled in a heap.\n\nThe elder intervened, grabbing the newcomer by the arm.\n\"Calm down, I chose you because you could take it, don't prove me wrong at the finish line. I made a mistake alright? Picking you was the only way i could mitigate the damage.\"\n\nThe young man took a deep, deep breath, then let the fight out him with a slow exhale.\n\"Well, its a pretty good practical joke.\"\n\nThe elder flashed a grin, his teeth laced with blood.\n\n\"Unintended, but sure. Makes a good story eh?\"\n\nThe younger passed a hand over his face. \n\"Oh don't go there.\"\n\nThe older god became animated. \n\"Bloody good right you have. Didn't know you had it in you.\"\n\n\"Its all in the hips.\" He gestured to the fallen Roman. \n\n\"He going to be alright?\"\n\nThe elder was dismissive. \n\n\"Bah! I've given him worse, and he always bounces back.\" \n\nThe man nodded.\n\n\"I suppose i owe him an apology, he helped me out in the end.\"\n\n\"When he wakes up.\" The old man put his arm around his shoulders. \n\"For now lets have us a chat.\"\nHe turned and led him across the slope to where a patch of grass was, impossibly, growing on the desert hilltop.\n\nThe Roman stirred some moments later. He sat up and tested his head with his fingers. No blood, but he was going to have a thumping headache. \nHe could hear voices over the rise in conversation, and decided against intruding. \nHis head swam as he stood. He needed to get back to the city, and lamented not taking the day off. \n\nHe sighed, \"No rest for the wicked.\"\n\nHe started to move off the slope when a light flashed behind him.\nFucking showoff, always with the pyrotechnics.\n\nThe way was treacherous, the path littered with rocks and scree. It would take an effort of concentration he didn't feel up for.\n\nHe raised his hand to his head again, just to be certain he wasn't bleeding.\n\"I should be\", he thought, I haven't been walloped like that for years! That boy had his fathers arm.\nHis head spun again and he sat on a rock to wait it out, but it grew worse.\nShaking his head at his own foolishness, he leaned back and muttered in admiration,\n\n\"Jesus Christ, what a punch.\"\n\nThen fainted dead away.", "Making my way downtown\nwalking fast\nfutures passed\nnow i'm earth bound\n\nNow im strutting ahead\njust making my way\nloving today\npotato\n\nI don't need you\n'cuz i'll beat you\nnanana boooo-boooo\n\nI peed blood\nThen pooped frogs\nThen came lice\nfollowed by flies\n'aint nobody got time\nfor this right here\ncan you just\nplease fuuuck\nofffff\n\nAnd I think he's pissed\nHe just killed my sheep\nand i wonder\nWhere'd this boil\neven come from?\n\n'cause i practice good hygiene\nand keep my ass clean\nOh no you guys\nis that hail outside?\n\nI don't need you\n'Cuz I'll beat you\nnanana boooo-booooo\n\nLocust began to fall\nfrom the sky\nThe sun went black\nit's time to hide\n'cause people you know\nare snatchin up kids\ntheir first born \nat aaaa\ntiiiiiiimeeee\n\nAnd I, I\nDon't know if you know\nMy, my\nown religious views\nI'm, I'm\npretty much an athiest\nHa, Ha\nLulz....\n\nStrutting my way downtown\nwalking fast\nHavin laughs\nI'm probly hell bound\n\nThis is all in my head\nI dont think i should \nhave drank that milk\nit was expiiiired\n\nI don't need you\nI have a tissue\nBut now i wonder.....\n\nThose were not plagues\nit was coincidence\nYour fued was fine\nbut you're out of time\n'cause i have a gun\nand i'll blow my\nfucking brains\nout offf\nmy skulllllll\n\nAnd then he cocked it\nand then he shot it\n\"You didn't kill him\"\n\"You didn't save him\"\n\"\"I guess we both faiillledddd\"\"\n\"\"Tonight\"\"\n\n", "\"I don't care either way.\"\n\nThe two men looked briefly at each other. The first man spoke, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance. \"What do you mean 'you don't care'? You don't care if you live or die?\"\n\nThe boy shrugged. \"It makes no difference to me.\"\n\nThe second man tried another approach. \"Hey, c'mon. You have everything going for you! We were just having a bit of fun. I know for a fact that you're going to live to a ripe old age with a beautiful woman and have about sixty kids!\" He chuckled and nudged the other man. \n\nThe boy lifted lifeless eyes and stared at him. \"What is the point of life when it is not my own, when you both use me as a plaything? I am but a pawn in your sadistic game of chess and sometimes it is better to lose the game than keep on playing.\" ", "One was the bullet rushing for my head; the other, a penny on the ground. The first, an armed attacker on a stormy night; the second, a bolt of lightning striking the knife in his hand. A life of near misses. A series of coin tosses, with Heads always the victor. Until this morning. Killed by a snakebite, before He could get an antidote to fall from the heavens. The snake slithered off and Tails had finally won. And now I am here, staring at two Gods, dead in the eyes. Learning that my life had been a bet, and despite the years of battles won, Heads had lost the war.", "Felt hemmed in by the 2 brick walls. It was rainy, dark, could hear the drops bouncing off fire escapes above me like an orchestra bucking off it's conductor. Pulled my jacket closer around me, was getting bloody cold - soaked to the bone, yeah? \n\nBeen a miserable day so far. Capstone of my existence - hah - but I was almost home. Damnable tram driver left early for once in his waste of a life leaving me out cold in this rain. I feel myself shiver, almost disconnected from my own walking corpse by the vibration. Strange to think I might have died today. Twice even.\n\nSee, traffic around here doesn't play nice with us that walk. We've got the right o' way, according to the law, but since when have laws ever kept a man from doing things his way? I was almost converted, and not in the religious sense, to a fine paste of meat about the parkway; by a large, looming beast of a machine. Driven by a small man with beady eyes. I didn't see much else of him, too busy diving away.\n\nThen, later, I'd near choked to death on supper. An odd experience, not bein' able to breathe. Hell, what a eulogy they'd have written for me - a man who done died to his meal. Least that woman knew how to unstick something out a fella's gullet. Yet while I'm here reminiscing in this awful, godforsaken weather, 2 men have approached me. Maybe I'll be mugged to top it all off.\n\nDo you think he knows?\n\nHow could he?\n\nI, just, I don't know? This one bothers me, I don't think the boss wants us toying with the more interesting mortals.\n\nI don't think the boss cares.\n\nIt was a standoff, of sorts. Them being two lesser gods notwithstanding, the lone man looked as if he might hold his own if it came down to fighting. \n\nYou boys lookin' for somethin'?\n\nMr.... Marks, is it?\n\nThe lone man grunted in affirmation.\n\nYou see, me and my colleague - That's a stretch. - My colleague and I made a bet of sorts.\n\nA wager?\n\nYes! He thought he could kill anyone before I could stop the act. I thought otherwise, so we put it to a test! And I was right! I kept you alive throughout the whole day! \n\nThe smile on this man was sickening. \n\nWhere'd you find that right; to toy with my life?\n\nWe're gods.\n\nThis one was rather blunt. The lone man, however, was growing tired of talk and getting more and more soaked by the moment.\n\nWhy the hell'd you take the time to come see me about it then?\n\nThe two stood there silently for a moment.\n\nWe wanted to see how you'd respond!\n\nTwo loud claps echoed down the alleyway, followed by the muffled sounds of two dead men hitting the ground. \n\nDon't look too godlike to me. I never cared for bets.\n\nThe lone man drew his jacket yet tighter. It was damn cold outside.", "My eyes opened.\nI could barely see. A face appeared before my eyes, apparently the person was speaking, yet I couldn't understand a thing.\nA bright, white light was pointed directly into my right eye, I started to make sense of the sounds surrounding me. The person was speaking to me, worried, asking me questions I did not understand and there was a continouos beeping. It started to make sense to me, I was in an ER and the face above my head took shape, it was a woman, a doctor, I think.\nI closed my eyes again, trying to clear my mind. Finally I could understand, what she was saying.\nRepeatedly she asked: \"Sir, can you hear me? Do you know your name? Do you know what happened?\"\nI slowly nodded, which was followed by her demanding me to open my eyes. I obeyed as I managed to regain consciousness completely.\nI asked her, why I was here. And the answer shocked me:\n\"You had a heart attack, leading to a car-crash on the highway\"\n\"Ok\", I whispered, \"but why am I alive?\"\n\"I guess you had a guardian angel..\"\n\"I was already here last week.\" I told her.\nShe looked nervouly on her clipboard.\n\"Yes, and two weeks before that, you should rest now.\"\nAs soon as she left, the heart-monitor started beeping furiously, I slipped away into unconsciousness as I heard the door slam open.\nBefore me stood two grey, ghastly figures.\nEverything seemed dizzy and clear at the same time.\nThe figures stared at me, as I asked them: \" Am I dead?\"\n\"Yes\", the slightly darker figure told me.\n\"And no\", the other added.\n\"What is this?\"\n\"We summoned you...\" - \" ...to explain\"\n\"Explain what?\"\n\"Why you have been struck with such injustice and luck at the same time\" The slightly brighter figure answered.\n\"And to offer you a choice\", the darker ghast added.\n\"What choice?\"\n\"Let us explain first.\"\nI accepted and was told why I have been struck by lightning, embraced in fire and had a heart-attack on the road, all without major injuries.\n\"Why? Is this a fucking game to you? Don't you ever think about the consequences of your actions?\"\n\"Yes and no\"\n\"Now to your choice...\"\nBy now I couldn't make a difference who of those godly entities was speaking to me, I was infuriated and calmed at the same time.\n\"We offer you a return to your life without any future problems and a few benefits\"-\"Or you could come into the afterlife with us, of course with benefits\"\n\"What benefits are you talking about? Heaven?\"\n\"No, there is no such thing as heaven or hell, all live in the same purgatory, even though, there are differences, you would basically be considered as a VIP, if you will\"\n\"And the benefits in my normal life?\"\n\"Well, you will live long and prosper, we cannot give you all you want, but we can make it very pleasent.\"\nI told them to send me back and let me choose later.\nMy eyes opened.\nI could barely see. A face appeared before my eyes, apparently the person was speaking, yet I couldn't understand a thing.\nAfter a while I could understand what the doctor was saying, I had been in a coma for the past two years after being struck by lightning.", "\"Just do it already!\" \n\nCamilo was exhausted. Confused, exhausted, but mostly angry.\n\nCamilo had been raised Catholic and had always done his best to live his life with the correct amount of faith and guilt that all good Catholics are expected to. From a young age God, the concept, the entity, the everything, had been a certainty and the point of everything, but for the last seven days he had begun to realize that that couldn't be right.\n\n\"What more do you want from me?!\" Camilo cried while falling to his knees and throwing his arms, head, gaze, and desperation to the heavens. \"How have I sinned? What have I done to deserve this Hell to occur? Accident after accident, death and rebirth, each time I accept the end I'm dragged back to this Earth. What type of torment is this? I repent for whatever it is I've done, just leave me alone!\" Tears flowed like rivers among the newly scarred terrain that was his face. Burns and fresh wounds gave it texture. Deep bruises gave it color.\n\n----\n\nFrom their place in the Universe where no human will ever see, two gods watch Camilo crying for God to show mercy.\n\n-\"These types are always so pathetic,\" the one god observed.\n\n+\"I suppose, but we've seen it enough. His creatures tend to be fragile,\" the other responded.\n\n-\"It's not just the fragility of these creatures, although He didn't really provide them with much to work with, it's these specific types: the devout religious ones who have all this faith and believe Him to be omniscient and omnipotent and yet they still feel the need to shout out their thoughts. If He's actually omniscient, he can read your mind. No need to go through this absurd, frankly disgusting, display.\"\n\n+\"They are odd, but I imagine that it provides some sort of relief.\"\n\n-\"I don't know. I'm glad I don't know. Anyways, I appear to be winning.\"\n\n+\"How do you mean? The bet was that you could kill him. I just have to keep him alive.\"\n\n-\"Are you serious?\"\n\n+\"Yes.\"\n\n-\"Man, I thought I was supposed to be playing the role of the villain. Look at him. What kind of life is that? He's almost died four times since we started. He officially died 3 times, but since I'm a good sport I accepted your, frankly, ludicrous machinations to revive him.\"\n\n+\"But he is alive.\"\n\n-\"Barely. I don't see much more life in him.\"\n\n+\"So, it's your move again. How would you like to proceed?\"\n\n-\"Well, I've tried explosions, car accidents, a bear making his way into his room while he slept, lightning, an accidental discharge, forcing him to insult an Italian man's mother, and anal impalement on a fence post, I think maybe it's time to get creative.\"\n\n+\"What do you have in mind?\"\n\n-\"How about we go and talk to him?\"\n\n+\"I don't think He would be too happy about that.\"\n\n-\"Oh damn Him and whatever He decides. He's never cared about any of his creations, at least not past their inception. He creates then moves on, creates more then moves on. If things get destroyed in the process He either doesn't care or simply doesn't notice. He could make all of these 'problems' go away. Actually, He could do better than just making them go away, he could make the possibility of them ever having even occurred an impossibility. But He chooses not to, so, as some humans say, fuck Him.\"\n\n+\"Fine, let's see what you can do.\"\n\n----\n\nCamilo convulsed on the ground, his tears pooling beneath his body. Everything hurt. Not just physical hurt, not just emotional hurt; spiritual, existential hurt. The type of hurt only a sane man glimpsing his first moments of insanity understands. What could he do? What could he possibly do? These accidents and freak occurrences couldn't just be that, accidents. These things were sent. Something was doing this to him. It had to be The Father. In his understanding of the World, He was the only One who possessed the power necessary to cause such things. What did Camilo have to do to alleviate that?\n\n\"What,\" sobs, \"must,\" sobs, \"I,\" sobs, \"do?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\" A voice like the pleasant susurrous of a warm summer rain. \"All you have to do is nothing.\"\n\nCamilo ceased crying. He lifted his head, shiny with tears. \"Wh- who said that?\"\n\n\"I did.\" A grey kitten with green eyes sat crouched in front of Camilo.\n\n\"What are you?\"\n\n\"I have come to end your suffering.\"\n\n\"God? Are you God? Why are you a cat?\"\n\n\"A kitten, not a cat. I have noticed that most of your kind seem to enjoy them.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Camilo decided that he had finally gone completely crazy. Perhaps the things that had happened to him this past week had not actually happened. \"Well are you God, kitten?\"\n\n\"Please. I show you the courtesy of actually showing up. I'm definitely not Him.\" The kitten started to pace back and forth. \"And by the way, all of you are very wrong about what exactly He is and what He does. You've gotten a few things right, but mostly, you lack all understanding of what He is, what He does, and what he can do.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" Yep, Camilo had lost it. He was surprised how sobering insanity could be though. The hurt, every last bit of it, just seemed to evaporate, along with his tears. \"So why are you here?\"\n\n\"I'm hear to give you an out. I can end your life right here and right now. What do you say?\"\n\n\"Not so fast!\" A voice like a bong being cleared interjected from just behind Camilo. There was a small rust-colored cat.\n\n\"What?\" Camilo looked at the cat and back to the kitten, then back to the cat. \"Are you a kitten creature like that one?\"\n\n\"No,\" the cat responded, \"I am a cat. You guys like cats, right?\"\n\n\"No, they like kittens,\" the kitten retorted.\n\n\"Cats and kittens are the same thing,\" the cat pointed out.\n\n\"Yeah, but kittens are baby cats, therefore much cuter,\" the kitten more precisely pointed out.\n\n\"But why are you here?\" Camilo asked the rust cat.\n\n\"Well, I too am here to give you an option. You see,\" with this the cat started pacing back and forth, \"I am here to give you the option to live.\" Rusty cat sounded quite pleased with himself.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nThe cat stopped pacing. It was not prepared for that response.\n\n\"Why would I want to live? Either I am going crazy or God hates me or possibly both. Why would I want this continue? This past week has been hell. If there is the possibility of change, either ceasing to exist or a new existence, I will take it.\"\n\n\"You can't do that? Think about what you're saying. You can't choose to end your own life, that's the opposite of what humans are supposed to want. Sure, some have chosen suicide, but they're dumb, and dead, so they can't respond to being called dumb. You can't choose that though!\" The cat looked quite flustered. It turned its attention to the kitten, \"It isn't fair!\"\n\n\"Hey, a bets a bet. We never set any rules that this couldn't be done.\" The kitten looked quite smug and satisfied with itself, as kittens often do.\n\nWith this Camilo perked up. Well he appeared to more than perk up. \"A bet? A bet?! A bet! What do you mean a bet?\n\n\"Sure,\" the cat and kitten replied in unison.\n\n\"I bet that I could kill you,\" the kitten indicated itself.\n\n\"And that I could keep you alive,\"* the cat nodded.\n\n\"If I win,\" the kitten continued, \"I get a Snickers.\"\n\nCamilo started to turn red.\n\n\"If I win,\" the cat added, \"I get a bag of Skittles.\"\n\nCamilo exploded. Literally.\n\n\"Guess who gets a Snickers!\" ", "\"Okay, you two. I am seriously sick of your shit. If you don't cut it out, I am going to kill myself and then you will both lose!\"\n\nThe God of Misfortune and the God of Medicine shifted uncomfortably. Each had wagered the other some fairly significant stakes, and divine honor would compel them to deliver.\n\nFred, on the other hand, was just pissed off. Royally. \"Call your bet null, or I will find a way to end it outside the terms of your stupid bargain.\"\n\nThe two gods shared a glance, each reluctant to end the game. It had been such great fun until now! Watching them, Fred snorted. \"Really guys? Really? For fuck's sake, just go on a date like normal people do.\" The gods were suddenly uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at each other or at Fred.\n\n\"Okay,\" sighed Fred, \"I'm going to make this easier for you. I used to run a restaurant before you two started ruining my life. Help me get it back and I'll give you both a meal on the house, best seafood you've ever tasted. Candles, romance, the whole shebang. You can come there anytime you like. Just stop throwing me into near-death experiences. You're going to give me a condition.\"\n\nGods could not sample mortal food unless it was freely offered, so this was a fine gift. Shyly, Misfortune caught Medicine's eye. \"I'm feeling contrary to my nature,\" he said, \"How about it? A happy ending?\" Just as bashful, Medicine found Misfortune's hand, looking up through his lashes. \"Works for me.\"\n\n\"Sickening,\" Fred proclaimed. \"I hope you both like scampi.\"", "\"I don't fucking care if your gods.\" He stared at them. \"I almost died over twenty times to you. My family, is on the streets because of you. My childern, are starving as I can't make a living.\"\n\n\"Your just a puny mortal though, how can you have feelings?\" replied the god of death as he sharpened his teeth with a knife.\n\n\"For gods, you don't seem to have a very high IQ.\"\n\n\"Thats no way to treat us that way! We are gods! I even tried to save you!\" replied the god of life.\n\n\"Tried to save me? Tried to save me? You could of stopped the explosion that destroyed my livihood, but no, you have to magicily teleport me into a jail cell, with evidence that I did a crime that doesn't even exist. I mean, what even is Godicide?\"\n\nBoth the gods stared at him, thinking he was a crazy lunatic.\n\"Look, we were just bored. Calm down, you die and you won't remember this, you have a short life like all mortals.\" replied them both, if not at the same time.\n\n\"There's three differences between you guys and me. First off, I have a life, and I want to live that to the best of my ability, even if its my only one. Second off, I don't ruin peoples lives. Third, I'm not an idiot.\" he said as he marched off a cliff.\n\nThe god of death laughed greedily, as the god of life rolled his eyes and handed him some cash. \"You always win in the end, what is the point\" said the god of life.", "\"So do you accept?\"\n\n\"Absolutely.\"\n\nHades knew he had Zeus this time. There was no way he could protect anyone from the god of the Underworld.\n\n\"Who, then?\"\n\n\"Hmm... How about-I dunno-him?\"\n\nHe pointed to a lonely farmer driving his cart through town.\n\n\"Very well. Give it all you got Hades, you know what's on the line.\"\n\nThey went down to Earth together. Zeus disguised himself as a muscular man, Hades a snake. Hades wriggled up to the cart and bit the wheel, holding on with all his might with his tail dug into the ground. The man looked down and drew his sword at the sight of him.\n\nThe man swung at the snake, but could not hit it. Every swing was met with the cunning snake-turned God's swift movement. Hades tried to strike, to just get one bite, but the man blocked his every attempt. Zeus saw all that was going on, and grabbed Hades round the neck.\n\n\"Are you okay?\"\n\n\"Yes. Thank you, kind sir.\"\n\nZeus span the snake around and tossed him away. \"It's no bother,\" he bellowed,\"I'm happy to help. You were headed to the market, yes?\"\n\n\"Correct. I go every month to sell my grain.\"\n\n\"I was just headed there myself. May I ride with you?\"\n\n\"Yes. Just hop in the cart.\"\n\nOn the way, Zeus saw the snake again. He kept a careful eye, but it didn't attempt anything.\n\nThey arrived at the market. A pale man approached them.\n\n\"Achilles! How are you?\"he asked Zeus.\n\n\"Adequate, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Please excuse us.\" He pulled Zeus away. \"That was quite clever, separating me from him.\"\n\n\"I do my best.\"\n\n\"I still have more tricks up my sleeve. You'll see.\"\n\nHades pointed to a cart. Before Zeus could blink, the horses immediately ran towards the man. Zeus jumped just in time to push him out of the way.\n\n\"Are you okay, again?\"\n\n\"Yes, thank you again. They call you Achilles, right?\"\n\n\"Well, yes and no.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"In due time.\"\n\nA man rushed up from behind. Sword drawn, he swung down, but Zeus blocked it just in time.\n\n\"Why are you protecting me like this?\"\n\n\"Pay it no mind,\" he said as the man toppled over. \"You see I merely-\"\n\nA rumbling was heard. Screams followed a massive hole in the Earth emerging beneath their feet. Zeus picked up the man, jumping over every obstacle to get him to safety. A large magma figure emerged from the hole.\n\n\"WELL, WELL, WELL, MY BOY! YOU SEEM TO BE QUITE THE LUCKY ONE! WHY, EVEN THE GODS ARE ON YOUR SIDE!\" it bellowed.\n\n\"What-what's going on?\"\n\n\"Fine. HADES YOU SHALL NOT WIN!\"\n\n\"Ah, but you see, Zeus my boy, I already am.\"\n\nHe snatched at the man. Zeus moved quickly, swiftly moving from danger.\n\n\"GIVE UP!\" He said as he shot at Hades with lightning. The beast flinched, and turned into a human form. The hole closed.\n\n\"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?\"\n\n\"You see sir, Hades and I had a bit of an agreement.\"\n\n\"A gentleman's challenge, so to speak.\"\n\n\"Yes. I apologize, but your life was on the line for the sake of this challenge.\"\n\n\"What was the reward?\"\n\n\"Well, given as Hades lost-\"\n\n\"I did not!\"\n\nZeus smacked him across the face. \"Okay fine, Here.\"\n\nA wolf hound appeared in his hand.\n\n\"A wolf? You nearly killed me for a wolf?\"\n\n\"No, no. Not just a wolf. This is the son of Cerberus. If Hades had this, there would be no end to the power filling the Underworld.\"\n\n\"Yes, and now, it is yours, Zeus, my boy.\"" ]	10
Shipyards are closed.	[WP] You live in Madagascar, the only place untouched by a deadly disease that has been wiping out the entire world.	[ "Louis sat at his office overlooking the shipyards, he watched as the police escorted the crew out of a container ship into the quarantine area. The ship and her crew had landed scant hours before the the government enforced quarantine protocols on the only access to the outside world, a horrible disease was killing people worse than the Spanish flu had with rumours that whole countries were functionally lost to the world. The government wasn't taking chances with the sailors and the ship, both would experience rigorous decontamination procedures and be excluded for the time being until the representative from the WHO gave the green light. \n\nLouis leafed through the shipping manifest checking the material against a WHO watch list he had been given. So far no animal material had turned up, there were a few cords of wood which may run insect risk but they were industrially micro-waved and sealed in Melbourne before shipping and the WHO representative gave an amber light, no immediate risk but follow up later. Ultimately there wasn't much on the freighter and little risk, it had been coming to port to drop off a few tonnes of powered milk and pick up some agricultural exports which had since been re-purposed in the light of there being no foreign markets to receive them. He dropped the manifest onto the desk and stared out to the dock again pondering his future, with the quarantine and end of the world there wouldn't be a whole lot of incoming shipping for him to manage. \n\nThe office phone began to ring sharply, Louis wheeled his chair across the room and lifted the handset from the cradle, \"This is control, go ahead\".\n\nLouis' face dropped as he heard the news, \"yep...right...okay...I will enter it into the logs and prepare the paper work\" he put the phone back on the hook. \n\nHe squinted towards the ocean trying to pick out what he knew he wouldn't see, the navy had intercepted a flotilla of refugee vessels coming from Durbin. They had attempted to force the flotilla back to the mainland but had been forced to sink them one at a time to maintain the quarantine. The estimate had been at two thousand souls between one container ship, a ferry and a dozen smaller fishing ships all perilously overloaded with the desperate and dying, all hands lost to the sea. Louis opened a new ledger and entered in the details by hand, and as an after thought he titled the ledger with a small grim laugh to help him through the tragedy.\n\n\"Catch of the Day\"\n\nDisclaimer: Louis' speech is just a really good translation into Australian English, I'm sure they don't talk like that in Madagascar. \n\n\n", "I lay there wiping the thin layer of sweat and turning to glance at the clock. 3am, I was well adjusted to this routine but it didn't make it any easier. Every night I'd play it over in my head. First their eyes would go a glowing red, and small amounts of blood would start to drip from their ears. Once it started you had 3, maybe 4 hours at most.\n\nLast I'd heard scientists still couldn't find the cause, but it was determined to be man made. Totally resistant to any antibiotics. Capable of travel via animals but only affecting humans. Before we lost communication with the outside world the death toll had reached 63% of the global population.\n\nI was one of 13,000 who happened to be in Mozambique at the time that they set up the quarantine station. Now, 4 years on, every day followed a familiar pattern, 3 hourly retinal scans, terrible food and every day a 'citizen' would lose his mind and be missing the following day. It reminded me of those concentration camps I'd read about as a kid.\n\nBut tonight something was off, it was 3:07 and Dr Pelton hadn't come yet, he was meticulous with his schedule. He'd been my specialist for the past 18 months and never been more than a minute or 2 late. I walked to the front door and poked my head outside. I looked left and right, the corridor was empty. The nerves grew in my stomach but I told myself it was the anxiety. I counted backwards from 10 to calm myself down.... 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... I'm interrupted by a knock on the door. A wave of relief swept over me. I open the door to come face to face with the red eyes of Dr Pelton. He falls on me knocking me over, I'm only half his size. Anxiety takes over, I feel paralyzed, my brain screams to push him off but my body won't reply. I feel like I'm about to pass out. Just before everything goes black I see the blood coming from his ear.\n\n3... 2... 1...", "'It was another day in 'paradise'. More like paradise lost. I haven't had a scrap of food to eat for two days and nothing seems to grow in this confounded place. The Mugatu clan controls everything in this area anyway, I haven't the faintest clue where they are getting the food from.' \n\nGary sat down next to a palm tree looking across the plains. Wild grasses and patches of dirt were all that could be seen except for this freak tree in the middle of nowhere. The sky was tinged with orange. It always was these days. Stupid end of the world bullshit. Gary thought of eating an orange fruit, he'd not tasted one in over two years. But that was back when the world was normal - Tax Accountant Gary. Normal Gary. What he wouldn't do for an orange right now.\n\nHe began to drift off to sleep in the slowly cooling afternoon. This was the best place he'd found. Fortunately he'd also found a large hunting knife and was confident nothing much could sneak up on him here. Everyone was too preoccupied fighting over food to care much for a straggler anyway. \n\nThere it was! The same dream. Gary always felt awake as he traversed the floor of the large wooden house. Completely empty, it creaked and groaned with every step. Wind blew in from the windows and the roar of the ocean could be heard outside. He walked from the living room to the kitchen and grabbed a saucepan. He paused, saw a larger saucepan hanging from a rack on the ceiling and picked that one up instead. Moving back down the hallway he made his way to the back of the house. The door. That final door. Would it happen like it always did? Gary moved to open the handle, saucepan at the ready to strike. The wind blew the door open pushing him backwards and knocking him down. Paralyzed, he couldn't move. It happened again. Closing his eyes, he knew someone was there, that same someone that kept him here - if only he could get to them first.\n\nThe sun was setting as Gary awakened. He yawned and looked at the top of the tree. Coconuts. Had they been there before? Gary just assumed he'd been too tired to notice. At least there was something worth spending energy on now. Fortunately it was a warm evening and the last embers of the sun still lit the tree. Gary got up, dusted himself off and looked at how to climb up the tree. It wasn't too high but the trunk was very smooth.\n\nHe looked around at his feet and just saw dirt. Kicking the ground with his boots he managed to loosen some of the ground. Any rocks? He didn't see any but grabbed a larger chunk of dirt that seemed to hold together. Spying the topmost coconut, he pulled his arm back and threw the chunk of dirt upwards, completely missing everything. He never was any good at baseball. Looking around for more chunks of dirt he repeated trying to loosen a coconut. It wasn't until the fourth try that Gary managed to actually hit one of them which resulted in absolutely nothing. Then it wasn't until the twelfth try that he was able to hit the same coconut three times in a row. It didn't budge. 'Of course it didn't' muttered Gary. 'Fuck, why didn't I pay attention in gym class - oh that's right, because I didn't think the fucking world, would fucking end.'\n\nGary moved towards the tree and tested the smoothness of the trunk. It had more grip than he initially realised. Putting his arms and legs around the tree, he attempted to lift himself upwards managing to climb a few inches with every try. Yes - this was working! Just a few more climbs he would be there. 'You little beauty' Gary smiled as he reached to grab one of the coconuts being able to pull it free with his strength alone. One, two, he could reach a total of five coconuts, pulling them all free and letting them fall to the earth.\n\nThe sun had set but there was still sufficient light from the moon. One good thing about this place was that you didn't really need to find shelter at night. Gary slid down the tree and eagerly grabbed one of the coconuts. He pulled out his hunting knife and buried the handle leaving the blade sticking up out of the ground. He stood up holding the coconut above his head and threw it down towards the knife. Missed. 'wait, there's probably something drinkable in there'. Crouching down he hit the knife with the coconut repeatedly until it seemed to crack open. At last - something to eat.\n\nHe pulled the knife up out of the ground and used it more traditionally to pry the coconut open. Nothing had ever tasted as good as the juice that he drank nor the lunks of coconut he cut away to eat. Enjoying the entire fruit he thanked the tree for his good fortune and he found his cheeks beginning to hurt from uncontrollable smiling. Finally he had something to go on with for the next few days in this miserable hell-hole of existence.", "It's almost dark enough to move. Being holed up all day gives me a headache, and I'm looking for the night air to cure that. I rigged a spear out of a branch and the metal siding from the other night. I plan to practice hunting with it as soon as I find another hideout. More new people were getting water at the creek today, which means I have to find a different water source. More people means they're either fleeing the refugee camps, or expanding them. \nI wouldn't blame them if they were fleeing. The camps have become slums, with powerful lords reigning over them. Everyone was all about helping for the sake of humanity until the ports closed and the rations stopped. A few groups of scared and dangerous people started hoarding food and medical rations both for themselves and for profit and they'll take anything valuable as payment. Jewelry, sex, other people; they don't really care as long as they benefit. As the rations ran out, they started fighting over the farms. A Red Cross militia was formed to try and restore order, but most of them were killed and the slumlords ended up controlling all the food. When they started kidnapping doctors so they could charge for medical treatment, I left. I wasn't safe around humans anymore. \nThey're unnaturally violent, and it's only a matter of time before someone infected gets through. Some idiot will be trying to save his kid or his wife and sneak them into the camp. Nobody's ever survived it for long. In the hundreds of patients we saw, only two made it to week 6. Once you get it, all you are is a threat to the rest of us, and if I intend to live, then they're all a threat to me. So, I stay out here. It's kind of nice being alone. I'm responsible for myself and only myself. Besides, it's not like I'm harming society; I just don't help them. I'm surviving... just surviving.", "We initiated our plan on the first of August, 2014. The plan worked perfectly. Nobody ever stood a chance. On the first of August, 2014, a young woman was brought into the ER in a small Chinese city. She died of kidney failure. 2 days later the ambulance driver that took here there died. A week later the hospital had over a dozen people that were sick due to this mysterious disease, and 5 people that got infected had died. It took almost a month before the governement caught on, but by then it was already too late. A poor taxi driver who got infected tried to flee to America, in hopes to find western healthcare to be his savior. He brought the disease into the US. \n\n\nOnce the disease hit the US, humanity was lost. Millions of tourists, all fleeing home once the news spread. But the illnes spread faster. Tourists running home for their safety unknowingly brought the illness home. Just 3 months after the young woman known as patient zero died, almost the entire world was infected. Social life broke down. Everyone stayed inside to prevent from being infected. But the mysterious illnes had evolved somehow, and rodents and insects were also contributing to the spreading of the sickness. Research teams from all over the world jumped into it, but after a month of research, all they had was that the disease was a virus, and that people who had it died within 24 hours of catching it. The symptons were horrible, a deadly cocktail of gruesome things. Organ failure, immune suppresion, necrosis, insanity,...The list went on and on.\n\n\nWhile researchers desperately tried to find a cure, a more covert search went on behind the scene. Governements tried to find out who was responsible for this attack. Such a mass scale disease that apparently just appeared out of nothing and was so deadly could not have been mutated. Somebody had designed this killer virus and let it loose onto the world. Everyone pointed fingers at everyone, but in the end, nobody ever knew who was responsible. \n\n\nExactly six months after the beginning, the end was there. The last few survivors passed away in various countries. The few who had remained uninfected either died of starvation while hiding out into shelters, or went out to find food and got infected instantly. All of humanity died, except for a select few.\n\n\nMe and around 50 000 others of my organisation were sitting on Madagascar. The last remaining stronghold of mankind. The authorities, under our influence, shut down their ports the moment the first news of a disease got in. Even though we didnt need to, our research team found the cure for the disease on the 7th of september in 2013. We didnt want the world to find out we did, though.\n\nThe truth is, our world needed a plague. An Armageddon. A purge. Our planet was about to burst. Our planet was sick from its own disease, a nasty illness called mankind. And thus we decided to give our planet a cure. We developped a highly deadly and highly infective virus, and released it onto the world. We gathered those with the same opinions onto our stronghold, and let our killer virus loose onto the world. We saved the planet, but to do that, we had to nearly eradicate mankind.", "My nostrils flare, caressed by the sweet fumes of the nearby juice bar, preparing a fresh smoothie for an elderly African gentleman in a kitschy Hawaiian shirt. A gentle rhythmic song pours from a Chinese woman's phone setup, synchronizing with the lackadaisical turning of the windmill off the coast. Its propellers greet the island with a quick wave, before vanishing behind the concrete wall looming along the coast. The song starts buzzes out of my mind. We're all Salvosians now, I guess. Or humans. Just humans.\n\nIt's been 5 years since the virus emerged as a global threat, baffling practitioners, national health agencies, and the World Health Organization alike. 3 years since the creation of Salvos, the island paradise funded by concerned libertarians (and rapidly converting wealthy statists) who heard news of the first cities quarantined in their homelands. 2 years since the death toll passed 1 billion. And one year since I won the lottery to enter the island. \n\nMy gaze was that of a carbon nanofiber, or whatever it was that I had read on the internet way back then, the next big thing for humanity. Unbreakable. Except through the extermination of an entire field of study. Little viral Hitlers, Stalins, Mladics, Habyarimanas, picking off all they disagree with, and they're not a very agreeable bunch. I had been contemplating that very thought for 11 months, in that spot, with that jar of Vegemite in my hands.\n\nOccasionally, it shows up in my dreams, and why shouldn't it? It was the only heirloom I could bring. The only thing I have left of my previous life. The only reminder of that shithead knob I called my best friend.\n\nThat last beer, that last hug. Vegemite. Plane. The kid who held that ticket in his hand. The hand that I held with my own, the hand that I held to his throat. Children could bring a guardian. He's dead. His mother is dead. His friends are dead. My friends are dead. A sharp intake of breath, and I'm in the dark. The night crowd are shouting and cheering. Probably another country terminated. Another wager won. Every night for the last year.\n\nHe said before I left, to my quizzical face, twisted and tearful, that the vile black curd in that tiny yellow jar was to remind me of the life I'd have. And especially the lives I was leaving behind. Everyone knew of Salvos' luxuries. It was salt to wound, saliva to face of those dying, waiting for their turn and turning to animals. Oddly poetic line of thinking for a man I once saw piss in a fountain.\n\nMy train of thought is shattered as I witness a flash of light in the distance. Too far away to tell what it is, but too close for comfort. Nuclear strike? Or defensive strike from the island? I guess either way, it wasn't here. Salvos Sanctum. Salvos: Relative Safety, Welcome To The Number One Island Resort Prison Thing Where Everyone Isn't Dying; Wish You Weren't Here! This place needs a slogan.\n\nNo one around me is aware of the flash. No one sees the plume of smoke rising in the distance. \n\nThe woman with her stereo has wandered away, humming the song. Earworms. Auditory hallucinations? And the elderly man is sleeping in a chair, his gut exposed and a novel splayed on the ground, pages 20 and 21 out of 400 greeting the moist air. Aneurysm? Sleep Apnea. I see a volleyball game across the beach. I briefly consider joining. I briefly consider getting a smoothie and going to see a classic film. I briefly consider standing up, beating myself with a bat as hard as I can in the face and sleeping in my own blood. I do none of these. I just sit there, staring at the water flowing closer to me, then less close. Then further away. I knew how far. It did not help.\n\n", "Pitch black. it's 3am. I'm awake in the middle of the night again, another nightmare. The awful things I've done for survival, it haunts me, it seeps into my subconscious. I haven't had a good nights sleep since the outbreak. \n\n\nA year ago, I was a Lt. sniper in the Navy Seals for 6 years, stationed in Somalia. Our entire operating headquarters was demolished after thousands of infected Somalians and Ugandans stormed the base. They killed everything and everyone, looking for food, hope, revenge, anything. Luckily, my squad was on a mission in Southern Muqdisho on a unit to find a warlord that had been raiding oil rigs. I often felt like a mercenary for the U.S. government, something I struggled with. The same government that unleashed a bio weapon on the Three Gorges Dam water supply on China after they launched ICBM's on the Japanese coast. What they didn't expect was the bio weapon to be so contagious, to travel so freely from continent to continent. Billions died, maybe it was mother nature's way of getting rid of a 'cancer', or maybe it was humanity's refusal to accept reality. \n\n\nAnyways, our troops watched from the jungle outside the base, we heard the screams. God the screams, I'll never forget them. Sounds of people doing the worst things out of desperation. We snuck into a secure locked barracks that couldn't be raided and loaded it with everything we could, food, ammo, keys to the Mark V. We radioed in headquarters in Heidelberg, Germany. Nothing. We tried to contact everyone. Nothing. Our demolition expert Redford brought out the satellite feed, maybe we would find something on the news. What we found horrified us, most channels were gone, there was a few that were still in operation by a brave few souls, who would certainly die, to report the news in it's final hour. They reported mass hysteria, a disease that traveled through water supply or saliva. It would make people turn into the most nightmarish things. Their anger would intensify, they would become almost rabid. The reports said that once infected a human had 72 hours to live before the blood would become entirely intoxicated. The only way a human could live longer was to inject someone's blood to dilute yours. Doing this would only buy you another 72 hours or less depending on how much blood you injected. But it was something, another kiss goodbye, another hug - people will do anything to delay the inevitable. This led to rabid murders, desperation, hell. Entire cities were vanquished.\n\n\nWhen we heard this we headed to Port Basaso in Somalia via Humvee. We wanted to get in the Mark V. and go somewhere, anywhere remote. When we got to the port there was mass hysteria, gunfire, violent mobs, trying to flee. Our squad of 8 unloaded. We locked and loaded our M4a1's and headed into formation to get to the boat. As soon as the mob saw us, they headed right for us, we were loaded with everything they would want - supplies. Dan our suppressing fire guy began to open fire as they charged at us with machetes. They fell like dominos. I watched the docks as guys with AK47s began to lift them in our general direction. Boom, direct shot to the head, another one, another one. I just kept firing. I just didn't care, I needed to get out. Dan says over his shoulder, \"this is sickening\". He turns his head, and a .223 bullet flies right into his gut. I immediately spot the guy that fired and take his head clean off. The most dangerous people are those that have nothing to lose. Sgt Reed takes him by the kevlar vest and drags Dan, \"cover us\", he yelled.\n\n\nAs we cleared the path to the boat, we began to board the boat. We hoisted Dan aboard, his gut bleeding profusely. Wait, Dan says, \"I'm out man, I'm fucking out, I can feel it, let me take the turret.\" \"I'll cover you guys, I'll unload these fuckers with the SAW machine gun\", he shouts with tears in his eyes. He gathers himself to the turret with everything he has while we start the boat. He starts firing into the crowd that is now showering us with bullets. The boat begins to move, it's hard interior taking most of the bullets. A guy with a rocket launcher appears from a truck, loads, readies to fire. Dan takes point and begins unloading everything he had on him, but it's too late the RPG rocket has been fired, and directly hits him in the turret. The boat is still intact but the turret is smoldering with what is left with Dan. \n\n\nWe left the docks and turn on the GPS. We are fully loaded with fuel, we can head out for months if we needed, so we headed to the only place that is relatively untouched by humanity, the only island on East Africa - Madagascar. \n\n\nWhen we arrived, we began an operation I masterminded, called iron wall. Which basically was the 7 of us of blocking all forms of transportation into the islands. Our demolition expert made a nice, homemade assortments of bomb, out of fertilizer, it basically lit up any chance of any large watercraft on making a landing on the island. When we arrived we worked with the military to safeguard the island. We sent off anyone that was a burden to the island in large cargo ships. They probably died, drifting out to sea, but they had to so the rest of us could live.\n\n\nAs I wake up again, the emergency sirens are blaring from the town centre. Corporal Davidson, our engineer storms into my room. \"You up man, You up? We got cargo planes coming from all directions, some civilians, some armed mercenaries. Redford already blew up a temporary housing unit full of em after being fired upon. It appears they are landing all over the island.\"\n\n\nDavidson goes on...\"Our intelligence from Redford and Briggs after capturing a few suggest these people are wealthy, wealthy people. They bought their way out of disaster, I'm not sure how, and intend to take this island as theirs.\"\n\n\nLet's get to Redford, call MMI units from around the island and execute operation Containment. Let's get control of this island again. ", "\"Nervous?\" I asked. \n\nThe young rookie next to me nodded. His arms were barely large enough to hold the rifle, and the weight of it pushed his torso back as he walked, but he soldiered on by my side as we made our way to the top of the cliff. Late as it was, the moon shone pearly white over the cliffs, marking our path through the rocks.\n\nWe set camp right next to the cliff. I watched as the rookie checked the condition of his weapon, and then looked out nervously to the sea.\n\n\"Nothing really happens most nights,\" I tell him. I reach into my pack and grab two pieces of rice bread, one of which I leave to the rookie. \"You have family, kid?\"\n\n\"My mum died in the continent,\" the kid said. \"She left to visit family. I live with my dad and my sister now.\"\n\nI mentally cursed this stupid rookie. Had he revealed any of this information to anyone but me... I liked him enough to let it pass. But one of the unspoken rules of us irregulars was that we never admitted to having had contacts in the continent. It could get you into trouble.\n\nWe also don't talk about the lack of supplies. Ever since we cut out contact from the outside world, things have become more and more scarce. Not that I think anywhere else is better. They're probably too busy dying out there to keep on producing many things, but I'd kill for a cigarette right now, or a bottle of good alcohol, instead of the horrible shit the government had started producing out of rice.\n\n\"I see something,\" the rookie said suddenly. I looked up over the cliff.\n\n\"Well spotted.\"\n\nThe vessel was but a dark speck waving around the valleys and hills that appeared and disappeared on the ocean. I reached into my pack and pulled out my binoculars. One, two, three... I cursed as the vessel was lifted up and the moonlight revealed to me the silhouette of a child huddled between two larger figures. They were all dressed in dark colours, with their faces covered to hide from the accusing glare of the moon. It was hard to tell, but I calculated around forty people in the vessel.\n\nI checked my cartridge and got into position. The rookie looked at me and imitated me. I could feel his small body shaking next to mine.\n\n\"The first time is the hardest, but it gets easier,\" I told him. \"Remember why we're doing this.\"\n\n\"I'm protecting my family,\" the rookie said.\n\n\"Good kid. Now shoot.\"\n\nI watched him carefully aim his shot. He pulled the trigger. There was a loud explosion, and the water three feet away from the boat sprayed water all over the startled passengers. The night slowly filled with screaming. I cursed as I saw one or two people leap out of the boat and into the dark waters. It would be harder to get them like that.\n\nEager to correct my rookie's mistake, I began firing my shots. The rookie's face was full of tears, but he too began shooting. Now everyone was jumping out of the boat and into the water, and they became impossible to pick one by one. I reached into my radio and reported the sighting to the main office. It would be a long night of patrolling the beach and making sure no one reached our shores.\n\n\"I... I'm sorry...\" the rookie said.\n\n\"We've got work to do,\" I replied. \"Remember why we're doing this. We're protecting our families, giving ourselves a chance to live and thrive. And, whatever you do, don't look them in the eyes. You will never be able to forget the eyes.\"", "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.\n\nMadagascar. It was the place it all started, and now the place it would end. Two years ago this was where one monkey bite would change the course of human history. The resultant disease- an airborne ebola strain deep from the jungle- would do more than change it. It would end it. \n\nAnd now, as I stood outside my tent and peered over the ocean, I could feel the last breaths of the few survivors across the waves. At night I can still hear their screams as I fled the mainland a year ago echoing in my head. And still see the buildings crumbling, once symbols of humanity's power now marks of their fall. \n\nTo dust you shall return. \n\nI felt a tug at my shirt and looked down to see a small hand grasping the tattered fabric. A face framed with blond curls peeked up at me, banishing my reverie. \n\n\"What is it, Ruth?\" I said through my beard. \n\n\"It's lesson time!\" She exclaimed, with a skip. \"And you're late.\" Now she wagged a finger as if to scold me, and I felt a smile push itself to my lips. She was so small, and over the past year had even begun to call me daddy- something my own stepson refused to do for five years. But he was gone now, gone with the rest of them. \n\nShe pulled me to a clearing,where twenty other children sat in a circle waiting. Two books were open on a stump before them, one for me and another for them to share. Behind them, in a makeshift shed, there were two copies of every text book I could find before fleeing the mainland. From Aristotle's works, to Calculus, to History, each subject was there, kept safe from the rain. \n\n\"Sir,\" said a boy older than the others, his uncut hair drifting past his eyebrows, \"How much longer do we stay here? Is it safe to leave?\" \n\n\"Shem,\" I said, \"you know as well as I do that we must stay here longer. We cannot risk going back- we must wait until the storm of sickness has subsided. Here is where we are safe.\"\n\n\"How are we safe here? This is where the first case began?\"\n\n\"Yes, and everyone left out of fright, taking if back with them mainland. The disease is airborne, and no one is left on this island to transmit it to us. I assure you this is the last place they will look for sanctuary. We must wait here.\"\n\nShem cast his eyes downward, along with many of the others. They were not untouched by loss before the disease spread- when I had rescued them from their abandoned orphanage, each had already felt the pain of parents that had given them up or died. The disease took their home from them now, and many of their friends. \n\nIt was time to begin the lesson, before they could begin to brood. \n\n\"Shem! Can you fetch two copies of Secondary Literature for me?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" And he entered the shed, rustling around the contents for the texts. A wind rustled trough the clearing, swaying the branches of trees, particularly an Olive tree that stretched above the shed. Though it's leaves rustled, the fruit was not yet ripe, and none fell to the ground. The cooing of birds filled the clearing as we waited, but they remained out of sight among the treetops.\n\n\"I can't find it,\" he called, \"Noah, can you help me?\"\n\nI sighed and helped him sort among the books, gingerly handling them so they would not become worn. After a few minutes, we found it under a copy of Circuits and Electronics, and I sat on the stump to read. Twenty pairs of eyes rose toward me, awaiting the story. \n\n\"Before I begin, Shem, please close the door of the Ark.\" He stood, and shut the shed, enclosing the pairs of books inside. \n\n\"Now turn to page forty, at the top of the page. Read along with me.\"\n\nI begin, and worry crossing my brow. We had plenty of supplies here, but I feared the disease would find a way to our island, and destroy us, one of humanity's few remnants. My throat cracked as I finished the poem that was today's reading:\n\n\"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings,\nLook upon my works, ye mighty, and despair!\nNothing beside remains; round the decay\nOf that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,\nThe lone and level sands stretch away.\"\n\nTo dust you shall return.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "It happened so fast, everything. Me leaving my job, purchasing a plane ticket for Mozambique in search of fulfillment, adventure, in search of something, anything that wasn’t as dreadful as the tragic monotony of my everyday life. \n\nThey don’t know how it started, or where. Or maybe they weren’t around long enough to find out. I heard rumors, though, and I saw how the world reacted, from my own bubble of sorts. At the beginning, a few days after I’d made it to Antananarivo by boat, on the television…. Viral epidemic sweeps the eastern United States. People thought that it was just a hoax, one of those viral outbreaks you’d hear about over in Beijing or Saudi Arabia but would never amount to anything. Just another bird flu. But then it turned into panic, desperation, hysteria. Scientists frantically searching for the origin of this outbreak. The President has been infected. It took only a few days to hear the word epidemic change to pandemic. The death tolls rising to the billions. About 45 percent of the world thought to be infected. Autopsies reveal that the outbreak is caused by a bacterium, not a virus. Good, I thought, they were finally catching on. From what I knew, though, Madagascar was fine, untouched, really. They closed their shipyards the first day they heard the news. They weren’t going to take any chances, and they were smart. \n\nYersinia pestis, I heard, but not the same as the one from the Middle Ages. This one was somehow resistant to all means of antibiotics, the ultimate drug-resistant superbug, one that somehow yielded all sorts of symptoms, pneumonic, septicemic, and bubonic. Nobody stood a chance. Once infected, they’d be gone within a few hours. \n\nIt’s a shame, really, to have been sitting back and watching the world deteriorate around me, when the things I could see, physically, remained untouched. I was sure that Madagascar wasn’t safe for long, though. Because this bug wasn’t carried by rats or fleas, it was carried in every sort of way imaginable. Through physical contact, through air, able to form botulism-type spores capable of withstanding even the most adverse physical conditions. Much like the ones I had with me in my front pocket, in a flask. \n\nYou see, that monotonous job I had was at the NIH, in a section affiliated with the government, genetically engineering viruses to use as potential biological warfare agents. I began a side-project of my own, and here we are. I’ll just wait a few more days, or weeks, and see how I feel about sharing my knowledge. Maybe they’ll be able to find a cure on their own, or die trying. They don’t see how simple it is, really, to find a cure. When you’re under a deadline, it’s almost magical how much work you accomplish. It was too bad I wasn’t able to find the cure in time for my former lab members, but after infecting myself, it worked out just fine. And here I am, a living testament to human strength and vitality. I hope there will be others left to join me. The world is a messy place suffering from its own plague. I'm just trying to expedite the process." ]	10
	[WP] You wake up the find a package at your doorstep containing a tiny hammer and a note saying " You know what to do.".	[ "I held the note in my hands and looked at the box laying at my feet. I scanned to make sure the address was right and it was, but I still had no idea what this was all about. I looked at the doorstep of my neighbor's house and there was nothing there. \"Fuck it.\" I walked into my house and flung the box and note onto the small table with the other junk mail, it clattered a bit from the box hitting the table and I proceeded about my day, before going to bed.\nI woke up to get some water and as I walked down the corridor I felt an immediate pain wash over me, I looked down to see the culprit and it's the fucking hammer, laying in the middle of the hallway, that I just stubbed my toe on. \"Motherfucking shit.\"", "\nAs Valarie walked outside to pick up her morning paper, she couldn’t help but notice the small package that had been placed on her door step. Curiously, she picked up the tiny package and flipped it over in her hands looking for details of the sender. Nothing. She frowned thoughtfully at the mysterious package and walked back inside, placing the package on the table before heading to the kitchen. Her thoughts bounced around between what she needed to do that day and the package as she made her morning coffee. \n\nValarie stared at the package as she sipped thoughtfully at her coffee. There was no indication of what was in the package or who had sent it, the rectangle box was wrapped in simple brown paper that smelled slightly musty. She flipped it over again and the contents rattled against the side. Giving in to her curiosity she pulled the package towards her and carefully unwrapped it. Beneath the paper was a shoe box with a note taped to it. “You know what to do,” was all the note said. She read the note again, puzzled by what it meant. Anticipation filled her as she lifted the lid of the box, she had no idea what could be inside, maybe it was her next mission, or one of the new weapons the Rebels were developing. She looked in the box and wilted slightly, a tiny hammer, barely the size of her hand was all it contained. She picked it up and turned it in her hand. What did the note mean she’d know what to do with it? She shrugged and left it on the table as she packed up and left for work.\n\nIt was afternoon when she rushed around her house frantically searching for the tiny hammer she’d received in the morning. The sun was beginning to set in the west, spraying colour across the sky. She checked her watch, twenty minutes to go. She cursed as she raced around the house. Twenty minutes before the city would become rubble. She paused and thought about where she had last seen the hammer. Cold dread filled her as she realised it wasn’t where she had left it. She walked numbly to the kitchen table and sat there for a moment. What was she going to do?\n", "\"You know what to do.\" Was written in blue sharpie on the cardboard box. I brought it inside and sliced the tape with the scissors on my work table. Inside I found the last piece of my project waiting for me in all it's glory. I removed it from the box with the tweezers that sat next to the scissors.\n\nTrying to be as steady as possible, I applied a small amount of glue to one side of the tiny handle and set it on the dial. I then flipped it over, put in the battery, and tighten the cap. I flipped it back over and tighten the strap onto my wrist as I watched the tiny hammer circle around the face.\n\nNow it will always be hammer time. I thought.", "Sixteen ounces. That’s how much she weighed. She was sleek and metal with the blue rubber grip and the double claw nail puller back. My dad used it for years. I can still remember summer vacations helping him put roofing tiles on all those new houses. He was five foot nothing, but could carry a forty-five pound bag of shingles on his shoulder and scurry up that rickety old wood ladder with just one hand. And always that blue handled hammer would slap his right hip as he bounced up the rungs.\n\nHe built things. Things that I could drive by and see and point at from the passenger seat of his red pick up truck. They weren’t big skyscrapers; they were houses that held families. Homes that would be passed down from father to son. Dad would point out all the work that went into them. See that one there? Uncle Jason near to fell off the roof of that one. Oh, and that big slanted one? We call that a steeple roof. \n\nWhen I drive around with my son, we don’t talk about my work. He once asked me and I told him I get money from people who owe it to the bank. He shrugged and drew stick people on the foggy glass of the passenger window. He never asked about my work again. \n\nMy dad never got tired of talking about construction and I never got tired of asking. Sure, he did more than just shingle roofs. He poured concrete for basements, he laid flooring, he worked two by four beams into walls and then would put sheet rock on them. But I only ever helped him with the roofing, so its the shingles, and the ladder and that blue handled hammer that I remember. Carrying shingles got me out of the house during summer, and put some money in my pocket. But it was hard work, and a bit scary climbing up the old wood rungs.\n\nThe ladder gave out before my dad. But he eventually stopped bouncing up to the roof with a stack of shingles and a pound of hammer on his hip. It took decades of hard drinking and hard living to stop him. The last ladder he climbed was a new fangled aluminum one that my older brother had bought when he joined dad in the family business. But I bet if I scour the garage I could find the old wooden one. I won’t have to look for the hammer. I know exactly where it is.\n\nMy wife thinks that I am being foolish. We argued for hours last night, the package that had shown up on our door step the morning of dad’s funeral open on the table between us. No matter how many times I showed her the letter, she wouldn’t budge. She did not understand that his simple words, “You know what to do.” all but illegible in his shaky handwriting was more than a last request of a dying man. The paper hit with more weight then the hammer that had been in the box beneath it. \n\nIn the end, the argument with my wife would end. The memory of my horrible job as a clog in the wheels of the collection agency I was quitting would fade. The sun and the ladder and the shingles would harden me. But never so hard that dad’s hammer bouncing against my leg would not be felt all the way to my heart.\n" ]	4
What is the drink, why do you buy it?	[WP] "Every day I buy the same drink..."	[ "Suzhou isn't such a bad place, but it really is more of a day-trip destination than the six months I've spent here. The glow is gone, that's for sure. My Chinese isn't bad. When I first got transferred over here I was always looking over my textbook, but now I just speak enough to order my noodles or baozi or whatever. \n\nRight now I'm sitting in a western-style coffee shop. It's the kind of place I avoided back when I was searching for my authentic China experience. Now I come here because it is comfortable, and everyday I buy the same drink. I say \"Qing gei wo yi bei meishi kafei\" to the Chinese girl at the register with lousy tones. And then she hands me my Americano and I go sit down to browse reddit.", "Everyday I buy the same drink. A small cup of iced water. Nothing special. Nothing interesting. Nothing new. \n \n\"98 cents.\" \n \nI hand him a dollar. \n \n\"Have a nice day.\" \n \n\"You bet.\" \n \nI walk out the door, walking to the Porsche. I cannot help but close my eyes to escape from what's around me. Poverty, like Ebola ravaging through Africa, infects and consumes the city. Everywhere I look, everywhere I turn. Nothing but trash, shitty roads, and the homeless. \n \nI make it to the car, and get in. With the turn of the key, it starts, and immediately people begin to surround it. It's engine is like a call. A call to the poorest of the poor, to come and check out what they can never have. \n \nAdjusting the mirror, I catch a glimpse of one who is wearing a Louis Vuitton suit, and Oliver People's glasses. What the hell? Is that Bateman? \n \nHe rushes to my window, nearly dropping his suitcase. \n \n\"What the fuck do you think you're doing?\" \n \n\"I'm sorry?\" \n \n\"Get out of my car, you fucking bum!\" \n \nHe opens the door and drags me out, throwing me back to the curb. \n \nSo close. ", "Everyday I buy the same drink. \n\nAnd my friends make fun of me for it. They think I'm a pussy. \"Evan, why do drink water at a bar?! Thats like going to a hooker for a hug\" says Steve, Mr. Original, and my also unpleasant co-worker, his ratty mustache twitching on his upper lip. The guy hasn't had any type of female contact in years, he'd be lucky if the hooker took his greasy money, let alone fit her arms around his waist.\n\n\"Yeah well, at least a hooker could fit her arms around my waist\" I put my water bottle down and then pick it back up for another sip because I didn't have anything else to add.\n\n\"Oh fuck you, you know I have a genetics problem\" he heaved back at me, the bar stool trembling under his weight. His buttoned up shirt and suit pants looked more like they were made out of balloons than cotton. I'd have like to leave but I didn't have anywhere better to go. Apartment was shit and the place depressed me. I didn't have any friends outside of work. No girlfriend. I was with Steve here only because we liked the same bar. It reminded me of dad's old bar. Steve liked to check out the bartender's ass when she bent over to pick out a bottle. We were two peas in a pod, alright.\n\n\"Can I get another beer, please, Jolene\", Steve said with a wink. Jolene smiled briefly in a way that seemed like she'd eaten a lemon at the same time. She walked towards the small coolers, the beers glistening inside the cheap fridges like bottle-shaped bars of gold. She bent over, her Metallica shirt rising over her jeans. It was a nice view. She came back and handed the bottle to Steve, already moving away to the other side of the bar. The last few times I was here, Steve had tried to talk to her. Those conversations were so pathetic, I think a hooker would have given him a hug. Free of charge. \nSteve smiled as she walked away \"I think she likes me, man\". I nearly spit my water out \"What?\".\n\"I said I think she likes me\" the guy genuinely looked like he believed it. He hadn't touched his beer yet. \"Okay, what makes you think that?\" I glanced at the neon-bright bottles of liquor lining the walls, trying to disguise my disbelief. \n\n\"Well, for one-\" he stopped speaking and his face went blank. He wasn't looking at me. I looked behind me, nothing but a bare wall. I leaned over to push him. Then I heard the gunshot. \n\nThe big guy fell over and nearly onto me, I stand up to try and move out of the way but I'm not fast enough and I catch him up by the arms as his body sags. People scream. The bartender grabs the phone. I sit back on the chair. I look at Steve's beer. I pick it up and crack it open.\n", "Every day I buy the same drink. \nI've never been one to sip my coffee.\nI start at Union Square and begin walking.\nThe walking helps. The coffee helps the walking. \nI feel it all trailing behind me...\n\nThe knuckles are bruised, cuts run deep and blood seeps and the grip is so tight...the coffee helps melt the hands. \nThe grip loosens, I feel my father's ghost faltering. He can't catch me, not when I have my coffee and I'm gliding and I'm looking up, finally, and the billowing clouds cover a gorgeous city with eight million perfectly intricate and vibrant souls, all bouncing and colliding and coalescing into a scintillating orchestra of chaotic sparks.\n\nI continue to ascend...caffeine levels are peaking. My blood, rich and sweet and thick as sap pumps effortlessly, my heart beating like a wardrum warns those hands to stay away. \n\nI've never been one to sip my coffee. ", "Every day I buy the same drink\n\nIt's a cup of tea. \n\nMy mom always loved tea, thought it was the best drink in the world. I thought it was bitter and weird as a child. When we grew up in America, i never realy had much. Now that I am in Mumbai, I am trying to understand my heritage. I have had to learn Hindi and Marati, practice Hinduism, and speak with my family. It's a way different city than New York, and I am still getting used to it.\n\nThe tea is only one custom that I need to learn.", "\"Every day I buy the same drink...\"\n\nHer thought trailed off, as if the meaning behind it had suddenly disappeared. She turned to look at me, her forehead crinkled as she frowned.\n\n\"Every day. Just a regular Flat White with a sugar. They'll probably have it ready for me before we get up to the counter.\" She turned back to face the menu board. \"Then I'll probably go sit in the same corner booth, next to the same window.\"\n\n\"Does that bother you?\"\n\n\"No! No, it's just- Sometimes I feel like I should just change things up a little bit, you know? Try something different for once. But I dunno...\"\n\nIt was cute to see her get all worked up about ordering a drink. I could see her toying with the idea in her head, as she looped her auburn hair around her finger. She always had to worry about everything; it was as if every decision she made was life or death.\n\n\"What are you going to get?\" \n\n\"Oh, I dunno, I'll probably decide when I get up there.\" It didn't really matter to me what I got. I wasn't really going to be concentrating on what I was drinking anyways; I was already getting caught under her spell. Even though this was only our third date, I found everything about her intoxicating.\n\n\"Really? Don't you ever plan things out ahead?\"\n\nI chuckled \"Nope! Hardly.\"\n\nShe was the type of girl who was meticulous in her preparation, and you could tell from the moment you saw her. If her effortless beauty wasn't enough, the bag carrying the mountain of neatly packed and annotated books was a dead give away. \"Well, you better decide soon because we're almost there\" she said with a playful grin. \n\nI know she thought my lack of planning bizarre, but I found that whenever I planned anything it would fall apart. It was working for me, so far.\n\n\"Hello, may I take your order?\"\n\nAs she was rummaging around in her purse, I knew exactly what to do.\n\n\"Two iced coffee's with whipped cream, thanks!\"\n\nThe look of surprise on her face faded into a smile. \"Why don't we change things up a little bit?\"", "And it's always a Founders Porter.\n\n\nIt's not just for the drink itself, which is the most perfect beer on earth, with its dark, sweet notes, rich with malted barley. Not just for the smell, that roasted coffee and chocolate hint to it, nor the most wonderful mouth-feel of any brew; neither too creamy nor too watery. I have had many beers, but sadly, none can compare. But... there's another reason I buy it everyday.\n\nI'm alone.\n\nI live away from my family, away from my friends and I have difficulty making more. I like going to the bar, because at least I can have someone to talk with. It's nice to see a face that is finally glad to see mine. ", "every day i buy the same drink.\n\ni'm not lonely, i'm not even alone. but i fall into these habits in order to feel a sense of community. \n\nthat sounds strange. i have people around me, but we don't share any common rituals. we happen to exist in the physical spaces near each other. but we don't share any commonality.\n\ninstead of these shared rituals of the past, i find sameness in my routine. i'm not lonely, although i often feel alone. every day i buy the same drink. it's a drink that i add a little spice packet to, to add some flavor.\n\nthe spice packet doesn't just add flavor though. it makes the aloneness, that feeling of isolation but not loneliness, melt away into the sameness. the spice packet gives me some clarity, some definition to an otherwise vague existence.\n\nthat, and if one day i choose to not buy the same drink, i will enter the great unknown, alone.", "Every day I buy the same drink. At sunrise, when the crests of the waves are just limned in orange, I walk from my hut to the two trees on the island. There, nestled in a low branch beneath a funneling cluster of leaves, sits a wide cupped shell glistening with water. \n\nI've been on this island eight days, but have discovered that its gods are both facetious and cruel by turns. When the skies begin to cool as the sun drops, I scour the beach for gifts to present them. Sometimes the tide washes very little onto the sand. An interesting clump of kelp, a glossy smooth chunk of wood. Other times, glass gems or unusual shells line the beach. On the west side of the island, where the sun goes to hide, I place my currency, hoping that it will purchase a day's worth of cool, clear water on the following morn.\n\nThe water shell is an indication of their reaction to these offerings. When pleased at a particularly rare gift, the shell is brimming. At other times, when my hunting has been unsuccessful, only a few glistening drops cling to the shell's lining. \n\nToday, my ninth on the island, I wake as usual. I'm feeling weaker as the days pass; too many days of scarce fishing and angry gods. I am hopeful today. Last night, A large white feather was washed upon the shore, shining and pure and proof that life other than aquatic might be near at hand. I had seen no bird since I had woken up on the island days ago, half drowned and blinking with surprise to find myself alive.\n\nI trudge to the trees and stare. I collapse to my knees. The shell, that font of life, is gone. Not fallen, not broken, simply gone. \n\nThe gods have refused my payment. Closing my eyes to block out the sight of an empty branch, I begin to cry, to plead for credit; I promise them future gifts with interest. I reopen my eyes, praying to see the shell in place once again and full of water, knowing that this may be my last lifeline.\n\nCredit denied.", "Dressed now in the uniform of a server, rather than that of a cyclist, I glanced at my watch as the man ahead of me paid. I had ten minutes to cover the last mile and clock in. I only need seven. As the man ahead moves aside, I place the silver can on the table. \"One dollar and ninety six cents, sir.\" I pay and put the can in my bag, before heading out to unlock my bike. The last mile takes the few minutes it normally does, even pedaling slowly to avoid dampening my uniform with sweat in the brutal Carolina summer heat. Two locks secure my Campagnolo-equipped Bianchi to a water pipe behind the store, and I step through the door at 8:56 PM, leaving behind a beautiful sunset. After clocking in, I pour the Rockstar into a to-go cup, as per policy, and pick up a ticket book. For the next ten hours, I am to serve drunks, students, and eccentrics alike for $3.08 plus tips an hour in a restaurant that hasn't closed since it opened in 1978. Each penny goes towards that infernal tuition bill, due August 12, the first day of classes. My pay makes only a tiny dent, but every time I survey a man passed out over hash browns, I know that I'll pay, if only to avoid having to work here any longer. As I bid farewell to the previous shift, I sip my energy drink, silently thanking it for being the only thing that takes me through the night.", "Every day. Same drink.\n\nAnd it tastes like crap. But hey, it's better than the other options.\n\nMy drink rolls out of the dispenser and I sit at my table and pop it open. I gulp it down as fast as I can, trying to think past the bitter and the foul smell. When it's done, I put the can in the recycle chute. I wonder how much credit I have now?\n\nI go over to the bed and lay down. Turn on the tv. Reach over and grab the IV and stick it back in my arm. Damn that drinks's awful, but it at least stops the chemo from making me a violent wreck. Cancer by itself is bad. Cancer while being in space on a solo station waiting for your replacement and having to deal with the medical emergency stores......\n\nRemind me if I get home to go beat the crap out of the med guy who forgot to add some damn flavoring to that swill of life.", "Every day I buy the same drink, at the same place...\n\nA cup of coffee. Normal-sized, with cream. I add exactly two and a half bags of sugar, and I stir it exactly fifteen times, counter-clockwise. That is just how she liked her coffee. Now that she is gone, this is all I can do to keep her alive, to continue to remember her.\n\nI had promised I would always stand by her side. I would always protect her. I would never let anything hurt her. But when it came, I couldn't do anything. I was forced to stand by, watching as it slowly killed her, eating away at her strength, her happiness, her will to live.\n\nAnd one day, she wasn't there any more.\n\nIt's been two years since then. Two years of sadness, of emptiness in my life. And, every day, I still buy the same drink.", "Every day, I buy the same drink. \n\n\"A large Chai Latte with soy, please.\"\n\nI don't even really like Chai anymore. I could go without it. But I can't go without those few seconds I get from the charming smile behind the counter.\n\n\"So, how was your weekend?\" he asks as he writes down my order, adding my name without asking.\n\nA flirty smile alights my face, \"Pretty good, thanks. But I was buried in assessments.\"\n\n\"That's too bad, hardly counts as a weekend,\" he takes my card. \"Will that be on savings?\"\n\nIt's always on savings. \"Yep.\"\n\nI can feel the moments slipping away, as I type my PIN into the machine. \"What about you?\"\n\n\"It's was good,\" he smiled and handed back my card. \"See you later.\"\n\nAnd with that my moments were gone, \"Probably tomorrow.\"\n\nAnd as I stepped away another customer came up behind me and we broke eye contact. I'd spent another $5 to enjoy a few moments of being noticed." ]	13
Many people cannot speak because they are too poor, most art gains value while some "priceless" prices are reduced to 1,000 words.	[WP] Tomorrow, words become currency.	[ "I never thought I'd be a vocabulaire. Hell, I'm wasting 263 just telling you this story. But I guess that's what happens when you have more words than you know what to do with. It started five years ago. It started with the Words with double vowels, like feet, pool, and vacuum. Someone decided they were most valuable. Then came the pronouns. Famous people turned their names into wealth- something we all should have seen coming. Singers, actors, politicians- they all cashed in their names. Perhaps too soon, trying to keep the lifestyles they had grown accustomed to. But their wealth ran out- their words didn't raise in value in an ever changing market. As their wealth faded, and their names found less value, a new group of people found fame. I was a New York Times crossword editor. I jumbled up words together for a living. I never had a huge vocabulary, but I was clever, and that's what got me where I am today. I was confident in my abilities and could make up words without anyone questioning me. I found a loop hole in the system and I ran with it. I took what I already knew- a 7 letter word for a disease or illness- ailment, a 4 letter word for a fable or legend- myth, and then added my own words. A 9 letter word for an accident or mistake became shaboogie. A 3 letter word for anger became gaz. I molded a language I once revered into whatever I wanted it to be. And it was good. ", "Darren sat watching the silent program on the TV. Vivid scenes played out in pantomime before him. A cacaphony of colors, dancing about. He was feeling overwhelmed with excitement, because the commercial previews had implied that the network had given the show a budget for ten words to close the season. \n\n\"Charlie! Don't go!\" speakers too used to only music crackled at the strange new soundwaves as they leapt from the main character's mouth. Darren's wife was crying and clapping on the sofa beside him. Strange how much had changed in ten years.\n\nHe remembered how the gods had returned, announcing themselves to the world on every television, radio and billboard in the world. 'Too many empty words' had brought them back to us.\n\nPoliticians started going bankrupt almost immediately. Sure, they had lots of words, but they were all empty. Any currency without a backing deflates.\n\nAdvertisements on the TV changed too. Real people now made genuine endorsements. Flashy gimmicks helped many corporations to cease operations.\n\nDarren was one of the many who benefited. His father had taught him to stand behind his words, his convictions. He was CEO of Humblecorp in only a year, and delivered record profits to those who invested their words with him.\n\nHe went into his office, and looked at the video conferencing equipment. He was about to close the acquisition of simpletec, a startup from Japan that was creating new words at a rate approaching one per week. This would guarantee funding for his upcoming political campaign.\n\nThe cost was high, and he sighed as he drew himself to his full height, looking into the video conference. He prepared to make his payment.\n\n\"Please?\" and the deal was closed." ]	2
	[WP] A comet passes near the earth and scientists calculate it will impact us in 22years. We observe a fast mutations of certain trees and vegetables. We now observe trees using high pressure system to fire dense seeds to atmospheric height.	[ "We were always so afraid of each other, so afraid that our own ambition would lead to our destruction. We were wrong, and maybe we could have saved ourselves if we hadn't been so afraid to make progress.\n\nI'll tell it from the beginning. In August of 2019, an asteroid made a pass 100 km from the Exosphere and shit went wacky. It pulled all our satellites out of their orbits and sent them spinning into the infinite black, or crashing through the atmosphere. Tides rose far higher than they ever had and Tsunamis destroyed most of South East Asia and the Western seaboard of the Americas. And the plants, the plants were the strangest, they mutated faster than anything anyone had seen before, biologists said that the magnetic field of the asteroid has messed with the process of evolution and mutation and now they mutated out of control. When the asteroid finally passed, our world had been thrown so far out of whack, there was no hope of getting back to where we were before the end of the century.\n\nNot that it mattered, it was coming back to finish us off. \n\n22 years, that's how long they guessed we had before that flying hunk of rock and metal came to send our planet back to it's fiery origins. This normally wouldn't have been a problem, the United States and the People's Union of Soviet States had been in space for years, mining asteroids and practicing redirecting them, just in case. The problem was, the first pass had sent the station and mining ships crashing into Europe. We had no options, we were going to be destroyed by a flying chunk of rock. It was funny, we worried about PUSS and their Earth Defense Station with it's 32 50,00 kt warheads. Right now, I think that's the only thing that could have saved us. Not from the asteroid though, that was still 14 years in the future when the first seed hit. From the plants. When I said they had started mutating, I wasn't kidding. In the Middle East, trees and giant Orchids started growing in the middle of the desert. An oasis began to from over the site of an old mining operation, and as it developed, the plants became stranger and stranger. It started with the trees. They became monstrous, dwarfing the redwoods of the West Coast. Then they became hollow, forming tubes with walls 20 feet thick. Then the Orchids became carnivorous, actively attacking any animal that came anywhere near them. We lost track of what the trees were up to, we couldn't get close enough observe them without being eaten by a lady slipper.\n\nThen they started shooting seeds. The flashes of pods moving at supersonic speeds were visible for nearly 20 kilometers. They formed balls of plasma as they ascended up into the clouds and out of sight. 8 months after the first seed flew up and out of sight, the first seed hit. They estimated it's explosive force to be about 15 Megatons, the same explosive yield as the largest nuclear bomb the US ever tested. It took us a while to figure out how it happened. The old mine the plants grew over was a uranium mine. Plants had built nuclear weapons to defend themselves from the asteroid, but as the orbit of the seeds decayed, they fell back to Earth. On us.\n\nThe plants will save us from the asteroid, but what will save us from the plants?", "It had been 19 years since the diagnosis came back. At first it was thought to be a hoax or incorrect data, but as the years went by the reality set in. The earth has an expiration date, and for all of our technology, it seems as if nothing can save us from our fate. The governments around the globe have been at peace for a while now, unified over a common goal, but the streets are a different story. Local law enforcement has all but disappeared everywhere and chaos controls most places on earth. With no future in sight, who cares about consequences? \n\nLast year there was a small glimmer of hope, as the few news stations that were still on the air began broadcasting similar stories. It seemed as if the plants around the world were somehow responding to the threat of extinction. We still have no idea how they knew, but it was clear that they were trying something. Plant species of various kinds began creating adaptations allowing them to project seeds high into the sky. As the months went by these plants got better and better at throwing their seeds until a point where they could overcome the earths pull.\n\nWe thought they were making some kind of attempt to slowly push the asteroid off its course of destruction, but as time went on, we realized we would not be so lucky. The plants had realized it sooner than we had, that there is no hope for our planet. The seeds were their last evacuation. Hopefully they would find a new planet. A new planet free of humans.\n", "We were working on ordinance and countermeasures to stop it, but between political squabbling and the sheer size of the problem we were getting nowhere fast. It was too big and moving too fast to intercept and redirect. Blowing it up meant dealing with who knows how many bits of comet-pieces which would probably just make it worse.\n\nTo top it all off, plants seemed to be freaking out because of global warming. Gigantic redwoods started growing in forests all over the world. Gigantic, hollow redwoods. A vast network of roots and vines began connecting forests across the world, crossing highways and oceans like cables. A super-sturdy bark-like material began showing up on certain trees, similar in molecular structure to carbon fiber but alive and growing. \n\nThe freaky part was when the national forests began selectively dying. All the trees rotted away in a square shape, save for a few trees that remained perfectly green and healthy. The next summer it was a clear perfect English word: \"Worry\". \n\nThe same word appeared in China but in Chinese, then in Siberia but in Russian. In the Brazilian rainforest in Portuguese. But it didn't stop there. Giant forests of kelp in the ocean began to display the same pattern, farmers began seeing it in their fields, grocers on fruit. Meanwhile the redwoods kept growing monstrously larger. \n\n20 years later, 2 years before the comet was due to hit, the pattern was fully revealed. Across the world and in several languages, the earth itself seemed to send humanity a message:\n\n\"Don't worry guys, we got this.\"" ]	3
	[WP] a man's seemingly innocuous habit causes trouble on a national (or greater) scale	[ "Felip Manzel walked along 127th street, chewing his gum and thinking about the day. The sky was a beautiful blue, as though the Earth were announcing a newborn baby boy. Birds chirped in the air, and the sounds of the city rose to a comfortable buzz. Felip loved New York in the summer.\n\nHe casually strolled past a flower stand, stopping to be cliche and smell the roses. Today was perfect, a balmy 72 degrees, the sun beginning to peak above the city-scape. He continued across the street, waving to the postman walking the opposite direction.\n\nAs he did every day, Felip purchased a newspaper from Charlie at the Daily News stand. As he did every day, he purchased a coffee from Meagan at the Human Bean. As he did every day, he spat out his gum on the street.\n\nThe gum sat, as gum would, sweating in the sun. It was solid when he spat it out, but the heat softened it to the texture of glue. A cab passed, and the gum stuck to the tire as if hailing the cab itself. It sank into the warm treads, effortlessly gripping the rubber, massaging the asphalt every time the tire turned.\n\nAs the cab moved into downtown, it splashed through a small puddle. The gum, still gooey from the warmth of the tire and the ground, was now wet with water. It decided, at long last, to drop to the ground, right as the cab passed through an intersection.\n\nSenator Holly Carol crossed the intersection, waving away the exhaust from the cab that just passed. As she walked, her brand new Manolo aligned itself perfectly with the gum. Having had time to sit, the gum had stiffened a bit but was still pliable. It adhered nicely to the bottom of her shoe.\n\nShe got in her car, and the driver began navigating to the airport. The gum sat, on the bottom of her most expensive pair, as she spoke on the phone. She had a very important meeting soon with the President, to accept a nomination of Secretary of State. The announcement would be made in the morning.\n\nThe gum sat, cooling now, as Senator Carol was driven to the airport. It stuck solid to her shoe as she removed her bags and walked through the terminal. It remained fixed as she got in line behind other weary travelers.\n\nThe gum left small traces of itself on the carpet, although it remained mostly in position on her shoe. The Manolo had a slight tread on the bottom, probably mostly for appearances, and this allowed the gum to cool and harden on it's surface.\n\nSenator Carol removed her shoes as she neared the front of the line. The TSA agent, a tired-looking 40 something father of two with thinning grey hair, waved her over. She placed her shoes in the bin, as well as her personal effects. She stood patiently waiting to walk through the body scanner. Without her phone on her, she had time to appreciate her position, and that she rarely had to fly commercial. \n\nAnd after this trip, she would never have to fly commercial again.\n\nAnd this is the beginning of the story about how Felip Manzel caused the largest airport shut-down in United States history.", "He finally had something to rub into the face of all those snobbish brats from high school at the upcoming reunion. He was working for the NSA. Just saying it aloud sent shivers down his spine. Sure, he was a secretary/errand boy/phonebook for the manager of the cafeteria, but those were just details. The first day on the job had been a whirlwind of paperwork, confidentiality agreements, and stern warnings. Despite the seemingly menial nature of his job, the vetting associated with even stepping foot inside the building was a formidable gauntlet. \n\nEven the orientation was slightly terrifying. Between the NSA, CIA, KGB, and the other iterations of clandestine organizations around the world essentially every ordinary item had the potential to be a listening device, spy gadget, or nuclear warhead. Nothing was to come into the facility from the outside because the surveillance rhetoric between the US and Russia had reached a fever pitch and nothing was to be trusted. One of the fellow orientees quipped that he was surprised they were even allowed to wear clothes in to the building, his chuckle was strangled by the unwavering glare he received in return.\n\nThis first meeting of the day was not really something to write home about, a supply expense discussion about printable paper utilization and tonnage of waste being generated. Why the cafeteria manager was involved he had no idea. Despite the inherent novelty of attending a meeting at the fabled NSA headquarters, a normal human can only withstand so much talk about how many reams of paper each floor was using. His mind started to drift as he gazed around the room and he tapped his foot in a disjointed rhythm on the floor. His black rubber soles bounced in rapid succession on the thin layer of carpet. Tap. Tap Tap Tap. Tap. \n\n--------------------\n\nThe Russians stared at each other in grim confirmation. \"Dagestanskiye Ogni.\" Their percussion sensors deciphering the morse code the capitalist pigs tried to use to communicate their target city. If thats how they were going to play it, the filthy Americans weren't going to be given the leisure of being the first to strike." ]	2
	[WP] Write an overly specific, useless proverb	[ "He who walks in big shoes will find his feet blistered and his shoes will probably fall off, and then he will realize how stupid it was to buy such big shoes, and stop by a Payless after work to buy a new pair only to find that this pair is too small, and he will cry himself to sleep because his wife left him." ]	1
	[WP] It is October 1st, 2016 and the US government has just announced that they are suspending the presidential elections "for the good of the people". That is the only reason they give, what is the response of the population?	[ "Pvt. James Edwards stared at the screen in disbelief. Every single eye in the cramped barracks was glued to the television that was showcasing the almost unbelievable announcement. \n\n\"Did he actually just say 'Sorry for the inconvenience'?\" someone asked incredulously. \n\nJames turned towards his commanding officer, eyes wide as he tried to comprehend what was happening.\n\n\"Can...can they do that?\"\n\nMurmurs and whispers spread throughout the room as people started to process what the announcement meant.\n\n\"Suspending? That means only for a little while right? For how long?\"\n\n\"They can't do that! Why...why would the President just stay in power...that'st just...what?\"\n\n\"For the good of the people? What the **** does that mean?!\"\n\nJames shook his head and climbed back onto his uncomfortable, lumpy mattress. \n\n\"This can't be permanent. It's just like the big \"government shutdown\" a few years ago...everybody is freaking out, but things will sort themselves out and everything will be fine.\" He thought as he closed his eyes and drifted into unconsciousness. \n\n\n1 Year Later\n\n\"He said...no?! You can't...you can't do that. He's gonna get court martialed or somethin'!\" \n\nJames leaned against the wall with his M4A1 Assault Rifle around his shoulder as he listened to his fellow soldier, Max react to the news. \n\n\"I mean...they've gotta do something about it...but he's an extremely valuable General...I don't know if they'd just...kick him out.\" James said thoughtfully. \n\nMax shook his head incredulously.\n\n\"What does that mean though? If the President orders you to deploy troops to another country and you say no...they can't just let you retire and move on with your life? I mean that's...top secret to say the least. How do you even know about this? I mean...we both have some pretty intense security clearances, but this is way above you or me.\"\n\nJames shrugged.\n\"My brother works directly under General Edwin.\" James lied. James frequently had to lie about his father. Being the son of such a high level general came with more secrecy then he cared for.\n\"He's worried something serious is gonna happen. People are getting restless about the whole president thing, and General Edwin...the man freaking runs half the military. He just refused a direct order from the big man himself. From what I've heard...the government's keeping him in the dark too. And he's not happy about it. Heck, none of us are. People are starting to talk about...you know...old timey revolutions and stuff. If it were ever to happen...who else would lead it?\"\n\nMax stared at James with wide eyes.\n\n\"You're joking me right? You don't actually think...I mean a revolution? That's insane.\"\n\n\"Yeah...you're right. Maybe I'm just daydreaming.\"\n\n5 Years Later\n\nJames had gotten used to waking up to the sound of mortar fire in the distance. Max ran into his tent, no doubt with an urgent message like every morning. \n\"Sir, we're being pushed back on the western border, but we know we can hold them at Texas. Our forward troops in Virginia are taking heavy losses, but we've taken Langley.\"\n\nJames cracked a smile and tried to put on the optimistic attitude he'd had to keep up for the past 3 years.\n\n\"And how's D.C. looking?\"\n\nMax shook his head and answered the question the same way he did every morning.\n\n\"Impenetrable, Sir.\"\n\nGeneral Edwin had done it. Jame still didn't know the specifics, but he knew the General refused to authorize the orders for a large amount of troops to invade China. Eventually, he came forward and stepped up as a political leader, urging people to join him in a revolution against the now corrupt government. He was the only man that could've done it, and he did. He started a war. A war that he gave his life for, 2 years into it. It was a devestating blow to the rebels. The \"Freedom Alliance\" we called ourselves. Good old American morals and all that. When General Edwin died, everyone started looking for another face to follow. And who better to lead, then his son? James was forced into a position of leadership by the more experienced veterans of the Alliance. They needed him to rally people, as a symbol, someone to follow. And follow him they did. He really did have a gift. He could inspire people in ways that amazed the world. He could negotiate in ways that saved the Alliance on more than one occasion, gaining the support of China and most of Central America. James Edwin was the only reason there was still a fight. \n\n\n\"Not with that attitude it's not\" General James Edwin remarked as he made some crappy coffee and walked out of his tent towards the hastily set up conference table in another, larger tent. \n\nThere was definitely still a fight.\n\n", "C-Span had unprecedented viewers. Everyone was curious. Many were angry, or disbelieving, but everyone wanted some explanation.\n\nNone came. The old white men went on as usual. They discussed funding for federal programs and regulations for imported produce. Viewers were disappointed. Many changed the channel.\n\nOn news stations, pundits proclaimed that one party had taken over the government. Other pundits argued that the party in power had clearly taken a regrettable emergency measure. Viewers cheered or raged at their screens. They wanted word from someone in charge, but the President was silent. The government spokesperson said only that one sentence. It had been read off a card at first, but now she, and the populace, knew it by heart.\n\n\"For the good of the people, presidential elections are suspended until further notice.\"\n\nReporters asked her for clarification. She gave none.\n\nBlogs railed against the decision. \"Transparency\" was the word most commonly used.\n\nNewspaper editors dedicated headlines, front page stories, opinion columns to the decision. Writers grasped for reasons, inventing rationale to make up for the explanation that was not provided.\n\nThere was anger. There was confusion. There were uncertain explanations to children who were old enough to learn how their government worked but too young to remember how different things had been four years prior.\n\nBy the end of the month, the rage had quieted. The story wasn't news anymore. The government made no more announcements. \"Further notice\" never came.\n\nElection day passed, and no one noticed.\n\nThe line of presidential succession came into play, years later. New presidents appointed those who would replace them. Life went on. These days, most people don't give too much thought to the \"temporary\" nature of their current government.\n\nBut there are still those of us who are waiting for further notice.", "I thought there would be riots and angry mobs. \n\nI thought \"there is just no way the people are going to stand for this!\"\n\nI thought the people loved their country, and would fight as their forefathers did to defend their precious democracy.\n\nI was wrong, turns out we were all too busy watching American Idol, and browsing reddit to give much of a shit.\n\nAnd so, when they announced the end of freedom and liberty, nothing happened." ]	3
	[WP] With the spread of Ebola in Africa a small town in the U.S. decides to ritualistically kill people returning from vacation	[ "Exiting the gangway the smell of spent jet fuel spun through the air. The passengers faces seized by the anxiety of what awaited at the head of the queue. \n\nThe white faces of the flight attendants fed Ira's anxiety.\n\n\"Been seeings a lot of ghosts lately?\"\n\nIra's question remove the rest of the blood from the attendants face. The mask covering his nose and mouth, and the gloves on his hands would leave indents long after he'd set into his third or sixth drink at the bar. \n\nWeeks earlier news reports had hissed about the outbreaks, the teleprompters churning out the PR spin that kept western civilization comfy and cozy watching the latest D-list celebrity reality bullshit. Ira glanced ahead as the queue slowly ground its way forward, the swath of armed CDC personnel from the set of some nineties outbreak movie was the same scene being played out in airports across the country.\n\nIra looked back to his seat mate, B12. — B12, had spilled his drink and theories all over Ira on the flight home.\n\n\"They'll usher us down the corridor and separate us out based on the new GSK screening procedures.\" The red-toned passion of B12's face was the same he'd get from the 5 hour beat-off session he'd had in his hotel room the night before — His moment of pleasure before returning home to his wife and kid. \"Then they inject you with 'vaccine', but you never know what your getting… You know they're calling baggage claim 'body-baggage claim' now, right? 'Cause that's how fast it hits you after being injected. They've got fucking military transports leaving every 10 minutes loaded with bodies to be burned. It's fucking sick. I not fucking sick... Fuck them.\"\n\n\"Moving forward Sir.\"\n\nThe jolt from the home-grown terrorist approve AR-15 snapped Ira back to reality. The sweat and anxiety had begun to take hold of him, his cotton-mouth choking him as he tried to swallow the remaining moisture from the desert in his mouth.\n\n\"Move to the left and forward into the back-scatter sir. Leave your bags as they are. You will be reunited with them upon exit of the machine.\"\n\nIra's glazed-over eyes moved from the CDC agent, to the backscatter, and back again. the pools sweat in his armpits and hands revealed the location of saliva that had originally been in his mouth. He stepped forward into the backscatter, a curtain drawn behind him. He could see B12’s vaccination station beyond the exit of the backscatter — the end game.\n\n\"Raise your hands above your head and do not move.\"\n\nIra looked like a teenager raising his arms as if too heavy for his own body to handle. The interior of the backscatter smelled arid, like the dusty fans on his computer that eagerly anticipated his arrival him to play some new FPS he'd pre-order weeks before. That warm, dust-ridden air. \n\nThe machine began to do its thing, Ira's sweat dripping off his finger tips as he starred out at the CDC agent armed with a syringe. His brain was firing uncontrollably, He pictured his grand mother. Her funeral had been weeks earlier in Johannasburg. The half-assed make-up the undertaker put on her had made her look like a PSA about the dangers of plastic surgery. — At least the egg-salad sandwiches were tasty. The smell though, the smell of that funeral home had etched itself in Ira's olfactory. That warm, dust-ridden air. The same has his computer. The same as this backscatter.\n\n--\n\n\"The heat they say is so fast and intense it cremates them almost instantly,\" B12s cocktail jumping about his plastic tumblr as the aircraft jostled from side to side. \"It's fucking sick, I am not fucking sick... Fuck them.\"", "\"Bob, we need to ritualistically kill people returning from vacation.\"\n\n\nBob Telah took a long draw from the whiskey he was drinking. If the Mayor was providing he didn't want to be wasting any of it. And even if the Mayor had gone crazy, he looked down at his scuffed boots, there may still be some advantage in this for him before he bailed.\n\n\n\"Sounds a might unreasonable,\" he said carefully.\n\n\n\"Bob. It needs to be done.\"\n\n\nThe Mayor took out a handkerchief wiping his brow, then daintily folded it up and put it away before leaning forward in his chair to get real close to Bob - he had read the pose conveyed confidence - and banging the desk hard with both his hands. \n\n\nHe's preparing himself for a long one, thought Bob. He sipped on his whiskey some more, nodding his head in agreement. With his right hand he pulled the decanter towards him, to better keep him company.\n\n\n\"...Africa...\"\n\n\n\n\"Yessir!\"\n\n\n\"...eye-bowl-a\"\n\n\n\"Mighty fine.\"\n\n\n\"...necessary measures in difficult times...\"\n\n\n\"Ahem.\"\n\n\n\"Men must stand up...\"\n\n\nBob held up a hand. \"We really need to do this.\"\n\n\n\"Exactly, even if they say they went down to Florida we'll have to kill them. Can't trust people in situations like this.\"\n\n\nBob scratched his whiskers - a tad greyer nowadays than he liked - and considered. This looked like it would turn out to be a problem. The Mayor seemed to be circling the wagons. He wasn't particularly concerned with problems in general. They paid the rent after all. But you had to keep your eye on them. This problem would need to be handled.\n\n\n\"Well that seems a damn fine plan sir, but in situations like this I think we need to coordinate?\"\n\n\n\"Coordinate?\"\n\n\n\"With the Stateys\"\n\n\n\"You mean kill them too?\"\n\n\n\"Possibly\" saud Bob, \"but not neccessarily\"\n\n\"You mean we need to investigate first?\"\n\n\n\"Same with the vacationers. Find out things. Make sure. Slow and steady as they say.\"\n\n\n\"That could work. Thank you, Bob.\"\n\n\n\"We shall cleans them with fire but make sure we question them while doing so. MULTITASKING!\"\n\n\n\"Maybe question them before burning, sir? \" said Bob. His head felt fuzzy.\n\n\n\"Bob I dont think you understand the gravity if the situation. If they're sick we need to burn them and if they are fine we cant be sure, real sure, safely sure, without burning them. Simple logic. They must be burnt.\"\n\n\nThe Mayor beamed.\n\n\n\"No,\" said Bob carefully. He scratched his whiskers. What had the Mayor been saying while he zoned out? Somehow he had played this one badly - underestimated the Mayor. Getting a bit too old. He grimaced. He might need to call Ethel for this. And mighty quick.\n\n\nHe looked down at his now empty glass. Damn his head hurt. Well at least the whiskey was fine, and damned if he would let the problem lick him - at least not yet.\n\n\n\"Hey Ethel ....\" he yelled as opposite him the Mayor stood up and began shooting little fireballs from his hands into the collection of dolls stacked in the fireplace.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Two strangers are about commit suicide talk to each other about why they're doing this. They have conflicting reasons.	[ "I'm not rude. I can volley small talk and identify that groove in a person's self esteem where a compliment could be inserted (like your waiter might do when their rent comes looming). I place those compliments carefully, knowing exactly how the little groove got there in the first place. Even though pervasive comfort and complacency have ruined our human utopia, I still can't stomach watching a kid lose a stuffed animal. I remember how I could fit so much attachment into a terrycloth rabbit in my youth. I remember leaving the rabbit at a La Quinta outside of New Braunfels on vacation twelve summers ago and feeling every fiber of emotion being sucked through his black bead eyes back into mine through the tinted windows of a Waco-bound greyish Dodge Intrepid. I had transposed misplacing an item into abandoning a living, loving thing.\n\nTo be honest, The only security I have ever known came from shirking the love I enlisted to anchor material possessions into my earthly endeavors. I recognize that most people don't feel that way, and I hurt deeply for them. It isn't a pain of pity. I believe it's fear stinging in my memory. When I see a kid losing his rabbit, some part of me drives all the way back to New Braunfels every time. That's why heading home from a party long-ended took a backseat to hearing the carefully-angled comedy of errors being orated bitterly from the bottle-strewn porch of the blue-green two-story on Chittersby.\nDavid rambled himself back into sobriety over the course of an hour or so. By the first break in his self-sympathizing soliloquizing, every other show-goer had hailed a cab excluding myself. If i head home now, i thought, my arrival will likely wake up my live-in girlfriend. Then she might want to talk to me, or touch my skin. Anything outside of the house beats that, even rabbit recovery.\n\nArbitrary social interaction, random sex, and binge drinking kept me entertained while I waited for my Mom to die. It isn't as fucked up as it sounds, she wasn't sick or anything. Poor health maybe, but not sick. As a youngster I loved her more than any person alive. As I grew older we fought, but I still loved my memories of our relationship more than I could ever love anything else. I vowed to never hurt her. When I resolved to take my own life about a year ago I was fully aware that I'd have to wait until Mom was dead. Last month her bleakest years drew to a close without climax; she died in her sleep, at home.\n\nDavid sensed that his sole audience member had drifted away from his dramatic offerings into their own thoughts and experiences. I suspect that David is sensitive to these types of shifts, because his speaking voice grew loud in an attempt to re-recruit my attention and empathy and loud enough to wake up the slumbering party host behind the porch window. She came outside. Being two total strangers on her property, I took her request as reasonable and politely apologized after we were asked to leave her home.\n\nKnowing that we would likely never meet again, David reached out. On our short walk through the big crunchy yard he disclosed that he had a stockpile of pain killers and soon everyone would realize that they trampled the wrong guy. Everyone would regret not loving him. Even me, because I was just like every one else. Shallow. Insincere.\nI stopped him as he crossed the street. I stopped him to tell him exactly how wrong he was. To tell him that I knew exactly how if felt to have your love ripped out of someone and shot right back into yourself without so much as a good-bye or a thank you note.\n\nI needed David to know that I had lost so much love that I didn't want any more. I was ready to die with a smile, because that was my best middle finger to the absurd blink of existence known as humanity. I inhaled, preparing to take this kid's rabbit and destroy it right in front of him, right in the middle of the god damned street.\n In the heat of the exchange, Neither of us heard the drunk driver speeding as fast as he could away from an accident he had caused a few blocks over. ", "\"What the hell are you doing here?\" Says one.\n\n\"Same as you, I imagine,\" says the other.\n\n\"Oh. I thought maybe you'd come out to stop me.\"\n\n\"No. I had no idea anyone else was even out here.\"\n\nEach stares at the other, and at the ground below. Neither had anticipated having an audience, at least not so close to them.\n\n\"So what brings you out here?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Why are you doing this?\"\n\nA shrug. \"This world. It's... not a world I feel welcome in, anymore.\"\n\nA wry smile. \"Yeah. Sounds familiar.\"\n\n\"The stares I get, the slurs people mutter under their breath...\"\n\n\"The things people throw at me...\"\n\n\"Oh my god, you get that too?\"\n\n\"Hey!\" One protests. \"Don't take the Lord's name in vain.\"\n\nA shrug. \"Sorry.\"\n\n\"Not taking God seriously is how the fags and the atheists took this country over in the first place.\"\n\n\"...Oh,\" says the other.\n\n\"If men like you would just respect the word of the Bible I wouldn't have to do this. I need to make them see. They'll all realize how unlivable the world has become, when marriage means nothing and our children are forbidden from prayer. I'll be a martyr for a traditional, God-fearing lifestyle. It's the only way to make a difference.\"\n\n\"Oh man, I hope not.\"\n\n\"Why? Aren't you doing the same thing?\"\n\nA pause. \"I just wanted to have a family.\"\n\nThe other stares. \"No reason you shouldn't have a family. Be a strong father, raise your sons to be strong fathers as well, find good husbands for your daughters. There's still time.\"\n\nThe one shakes his head. \"People like you... tell me that people like me shouldn't have families. Not the kinds we want anyway.\"\n\nRealization dawns. \"If you're really a perverted freak then the world will be a better place without you.\"\n\n\"I thought you said the world would be a better place without you.\"\n\n\"That's different. You... you're the corrupting influence to be scourged from our lands. I have to keep you away from our children our-\"\n\n\"I'm a goddamn teacher, and I'm great with kids.\"\n\n\"Spreading your perversion among them! I can't fathom the torment of their parents when they realize the abuses their young have suffered at your hands.\"\n\nOne punches. The other stumbles. Together, they fall." ]	2
	[WP] Make up an absurd conspiracy theory. Try to convince me of it	[ "There is a secret in the world. One which so many do not want you to find out. I know this is writing prompt but I found the truth, the truth in everything and everyone has it very wrong but me and my new family we're changing that. Let me tell you about the true creator, the almighty, king of the stars, Space Dog. I know you think that sounds ridiculous and we were the same, at first but then we found the documents. The misconceptions, the evidence that points to a glorious truth, our creationist wasn't God who made us in HIS image it was DOG who made us in SIH (which is dog for play thing).\n\nOkay, I know you're not convinced yet, but let me give you a few truths we've discovered. You know that most planets are \"round\" and everything is a circle of a circle; that's because Space Dog loves balls, he chases them on a galactic and epic-atomic level. That's proven by science. The early scribes, well they didn't have much education and the Bible translations, oh my Dog they got mixed up. \"GOD\" was actually \"DOG\" but he spelled it backwards. \"YHWH\" is hebrew for Dog, seriously it is, but they don't want you to find out.\n\nOk, seriously if that's not enough think of this \"GOD\" is described as man's best friend. Who else shares that? DOGs. \"GOD\" could also be characterized as someone who gives comfort but doesn't really care or understand what's going on with you, much like a what? That's right, a DOG. See all the parts fit, they all fit together to the conclusion that Space Dog is our creator, and that's what they found on the Dead Sea Scrolls and destroyed. Those \"Bones\" they found were straight from Space Dogs mouth, and again those Vatican dogs destroyed them.\n\nI know what you're thinking, how what if the Bible was wrong. Like I said, science backs it up too. The Big \"Bang\" yeah, that was a \"Big Bark\". The mysterious \"Bloop\" from the Ocean that was a \"Ice Berg\", Space Dog barking from the center of the earth. These are facts.\n\nNow, would you like to subscribe to my news letter?", "I don't know how to put this nicely, but the things you believe to be real are not. You have created these things from nothing as a method of coping with your discontinued existence. I, being you, have decided to inform you through this site that you are consistently using, because it truly is the only means of legitimate access to your eased stream of consciousness. \n\nWhen you are not on www.reddit.com, you are upset. It's a stretch to say depressed, as we both know, but you are battling with fear and anxiety, and have been for a few years. I want you to understand that there is nothing to fear, though. The world that you now inhabit, or rather this world that inhabits you, is a beautiful place. Stay here for as long as you wish. Returning to the loose streams of reality is under time's permission. Time has no limits here. You may feel aimless in your ventures, but be comforted by your own rationale and ability to inadvertently control all.\n\nShould you decide to leave this functional and beautiful realm, I wish for the departing to be pure and ready. Please realize the beauty that is waiting! You will move on to nothing. It can not be interpreted as anything else, because interpretation no longer exists. You will no longer experience the elements of life, and you fear this now. But that is normal. All humans are placed under the same circumstances, and all humans are eventually detached from their structure. \n\nReaching this void will discontinue everything. This is your final message. Continue with what you have and do not fear.", "Aliens live among us. In fact they rule most of the world. At first they simply provided technological breakthroughs like atomic energy, but it was soon realized that humans also need social advances to be able to live with these \"emerging technologies\". It was at this point that they became heavily involved in human politics.\n\nEarly on they created an international organization (made up of humans and aliens alike) that that has worked tirelessly to keep this hidden from the public. This group has nearly unlimited resources but the greatest weapon at their disposal is an alien technology that wipes the mind of all short term memory. However, this device is limited to those in close proximity to it, and several times people have gotten away with the memory of seeing an extraterrestrial. \n\nFor a long time it was easy to discredit these people as insane, but in the late eighty's a small chat room opened up called \"The Men in Black\" where people came together to describe their experiences, not only with aliens, but with the shadow organization that tried to silence them. It was quickly realized by the members that their stories all seemed to link together, and gave some credence to their encounters. This chat room was quickly taken offline and several of its prominent members went missing. \n\nIt was determined that with a growing network of people this problem would only get larger. The solution was to create a series of novels about \"The Men in Black\" a secret organization that \"protects\" the world by keeping alien contact a secret. If such an idea became popular enough it would be much easier to discredit these people as simply being \"confused\" and having actually believed a fictional story. At the same time if the organization ever was discovered they would already be painted as having acted in our best interest.\n\nIn 1989 an author by the name of Lowell Cunningham was approached about this idea. Lowell decided, against his instructions to create a comic series instead, as he believed the medium was on the verge of \"taking off\" among adults. It didn't take off as soon as he had hoped, but the comic was popular within the genre and was soon purchased by Marvel. It was at this point that another attempt was made to get the idea to a much larger audience.\n\nIn 1997 the movie \"Men in Black\" was created and was met with immense box office success. This spawned a revamping of the comic book series, multiple movie sequels, and a cartoon series. \n\nAliens continue to operate throughout the world today. Most of them hold places of prestige in our society, from your local mayor or manager all the way up to the President of the United States. That is why we need to march on Washington and DEMAND to see President Obama's birth certificate. Not because he's black, or some sort of secret Muslim, but because he is in fact an extraterrestrial.", "The war on drugs is partially funded by drug cartels. \n\nThe main way to keep a product expensive is to maintain the distribution at a low level (high demand and low supply) for example the consumer diamond market. A look at the industrial diamond market easily shows us that 1) diamonds are in high abundance and 2) diamonds should be relatively cheap. They aren't because the market is controlled in terms of supply in order to keep prices artificially high. Why am I talking about diamonds? Well compare this example to the drug market. Drugs are in high abundance, relatively simple to produce (depending on the quality you're going for and the drug), but the market is constricted by laws (which control supply). No hard drugs or, until recently, marijuana available at high levels means that costs are maintained at an artificially high rate. Studies have shown that there are very wealthy people who can maintain their life even with a heroin addiction, because the real danger of the drugs addictive nature is it's COST. \n\nLaws which restrict the drug market maintain artificially high costs, and also ensure lower quality drugs will be sold as people try to mitigate that cost, and they will buy poorer quality even at a high price due to low availability. Since the war on drugs, and laws of the US and other developed nations restrict the supply, all illicit drugs are maintained at an extremely high cost due to risk of transport, risk of sale, and low supply (compared to an unrestricted market). So now we see that laws maintain artificially high prices, and restrict supply of what could otherwise be an abundant commodity, we see incentive for the people who manufacture and transport the drugs to keep those laws around. \n\nDrug cartels obviously profit by keeping the laws which restrict drugs in place, because otherwise pharma companies could produce higher quality products at cheaper prices and run them into the ground. Lobbyists in DC are more than likely receiving laundered funds from drug cartels to keep the laws regarding illicit substances in place, so that drug cartels can continue to have an artificially limited market which provides profit hand over fist. \n\nTL;DR Drug cartels pay lobbyists / law makers to keep laws concerning illicit drugs in place. ", "Trees aren't a natural formation, at least not the pine trees, the government put them there. They were created in a lab and are stuck in the ground all Over the earth to act as sound mufflers. The way padding in a sound booth softens the sound, they work the same wAy. The government put them there because they need the sounds from the air planes and chemical warfare to be muffled into a low wosh sound. That way, so when planes fly over your house, you think the sound coming from them seems soft and normal and ok. If you could really hear how loud they are, you would be terrified and dealing with PTSD like symptoms regularly. But the government needs the public to be calm and complacent to planes flying over head so that they can release mind control an population control chemicals into the air and things like that. Haven't you always wondered why pine trees don't die in the winter?? Wake up!", "At the start of the Industrial Evolution, Global Warming actually hit the point where it was not possible to snow in the continent United States anymore.\n\nThe United States realized this, and with the aid of Great Britain & Germany devised a plan. The developed a large fleet of Air Craft. They would fly to the North & South Poles, take large chunks of ice, and fly south, shaving the ice into artificial snow to drop over the world.\n\nBut a plan of this magnitude took manpower. Wherever would they get it? That's right. Jews. They kidnapped approximated 3 Million Jews, and 3 Million other individuals, and transported them to the poles.\n\nSomeone had to take the blame however. Adolf Hitler knew the world would hate him, but he loved Christmas so much, and he knew children should experience snow so he sacrificed himself for the greater good. The Coca Cola company however decided to give him a new identity, and made him Santa Claus! He now runs operations of the snow making plants on the North Pole with his wife Eva (Mrs Claus), and his trusty Elves (Jews). The shrinking of the Poles can be directly attributed to the carving up of said glaciers.", "There is no such place as Tibet. It was invented by the CIA in the 1960's as a counter-argument to the Mao-influenced communism that was all the rage at the time. If China is so great, then why are the Tibetans so horribly oppressed, right? A leaked document from the time instructs propagande managers to describe Tibet as \"basically the Shire, but smellier and with more mountains\".", "You cannot die.\n\nLife is like water flowing down a pipeline, it can only take the passages that are open to it, meaning that if your life force meets and end, it simply flows the other way by nature. \n\nThis also means, when people die they don't actually truly die, they simply move down another path diverging from yours, and onto a different \"dimension\" of sorts. Since there are an infinite number of universes, there is always room for other versions of yourself to continue down this same pipeline.\n\nNo matter what you do, no matter what mistakes you make or how you suffer, it will never end, and there is nothing you can do to stop it." ]	8
Don't have to be related to the original source.	[WP] "If there is a God he will have to beg my forgiveness"	[ "He sobbed. He sobbed and hiccupped like a child, even though he had to be at least forty. His wife let out keening wails of despair, collapsed to the floor as he struggled to keep himself upright, to be strong for both of them. The police officers standing at the door can only avert their eyes. It’s a scene that’s happened far too many times. They couldn’t blame them for the reaction. \n\n“We’re going to have to ask you to come down to the station, answer some questions about your daughter.” One officer states, a name of Johnson in black letters on a small gold nametag pinned expertly to his chest. \n\n“Of—Of course.” The husband manages out, attempting to gather himself and his wife together enough to make the trip. There are reporters and followers of the case outside already, circling the house like hungry sharks. The two officers attempt to shade the grieving couple from the groups of people as they walk towards the van sitting at the end of the driveway. \n\n“It’s all a part of God’s plan, it’ll be okay.” Someone, maybe a neighbor, attempts to reassure them. \n\n“God’s plan?” The husband stops, mid-step, voice choked. “God’s plan?!” His wife clings to his arm, barely able to hold herself upright. “It’s a part of God’s plan for my daughter to be viciously attacked and tossed like garbage?” The officers begin to nervously place themselves between the man and the neighbor. “A part of God’s plan that she suffered until her body gave out?” The man trembles as he screams at the person. “That was my little girl! If there is a God, he will have to beg my forgiveness!” As the couple get into the van, the area is silent, the reporters even giving them a wide berth. ", "Sir Javier sat atop a mountain of blood-stained bodies and wept. He still wore the robes and armor of a crusader, but the righteousness and will of god no longer felt as holy to him as it had once before.\n\nWhen he joined the armies marching east, he had been a young, impulsive, spiritual boy. He was inspired by the cries of \"Deus Vult\" from every window and doorway as the parade of soldiers marched through the town.\n\nBut now, after watching his friends and fellow soldiers be slaughtered in foolish, fruitless charges against the deadly marksmanship of the infidels, he felt disgusted to crusade in the name of a god who would only kill the men who were carrying out his will.\n\n\"If there is a God.\" he choked out, from between clenched teeth, hot tears dripping down his cheeks and through his unshaven beard. \"He will have to beg my forgiveness.\"" ]	2
	[FF] With one sentece, tell me the true reason superheroes wear tights.	[ "She stepped out of the dressing room, sighed and blinked at the scandalous suit she was wearing that showed off her figure almost a little too well before turning to the noble hero who had made her super suit and was letting his eyes trace every curve of her body, \"Well, alright, I trust you that we wear this in order to strike fear into the hearts of those evil villains, I mean, you are Captain Virtue.\" " ]	1
	[WP] A nonfiction story about a day you had in high school.	[ "It was my first day at school. Well, this school. In this state. It was my first day of my third year of high school. It also happened to be my birthday. This day, this school, my birthday. I started the day at five a.m. and walked to my stop about a quarter mile from my house. I walked and walked, until I drove and drove. Blasting MGMT on my headphones, I waited on the bus for ten minutes before getting to school. I didn’t know anyone, I didn’t recognize anything. The only faces I knew were the ones I hallucinated every so often out of the corner of my eye. The day fizzed by, and I was home. I don’t know how or when I got there, but I got there. Waiting for me was a birthday cake and a letter from Dad saying “Cake [greater than sign point to “cake”] School”. It was sweet, and I went to thank him, but he was away for the afternoon, looking at model houses. At least he didn’t drag me along.", "I don't remember the morning much, before about 9 am. I was never a morning person, and I was not really coherent before my coffee (which I drank during first period, like the rebel I pretended to be). Coach was giving a lecture over something or another in world history, when a female student bursts into the classroom, tears in her eyes.\n \n \n\"Turn on the TV. Now. Don't ask. Just do it.\"\n \n \nCoach turned on the TV, and we watched the first tower fall.\nI don't remember much of the rest of first or second block.\nI do remember thinking: Why these innocent people? Why these towers?\n \n \nThe newscaster is holding on to sanity by a thin, fraying rope.\n \n \nI remember my third block teacher was much more somber than usual, barely keeping it together. After school I tried to comfort him with words. Truths, but not platitudes. I did not know exactly what was wrong, but it was personal for him. I'm not sure I actually helped. I found out the next day his brother was supposed to be on flight that hit the second tower, but his boss told him not to go, as the business deal fell through.\n \n \nI don't remember the drive home, dinner, or anything else from that evening, except thinking, inanely, that I should be crying more.", "Running up and down the halls, I tried each door. The building's interior was deserted for the most part, however just beyond the front door, there were dozens, maybe even a hundred students mingling among themselves as they waited for their rides. Most of these students were above the legal driving age, but they seemed unembarassed by the fact that their mothers still picked them up from school. It was like they didn't even care about getting a driver's license. I, on the other hand, wanted to drive very badly, but wasn't old enough yet.\n\nAt this particular moment, I was attempting to locate a restroom. I had found at least three, all of them locked. I tried another one of those elusive doors with a placque indicating a generically drawn woman with the word \"Ladies\" underneath it. This was my lucky day. The door swung open and I leapt for the nearest stall. On my way out, I read a text message from my stepmother:\"It's raining, so stay inside. Be there in 20-ish.\"\n\n I was slightly agitated by this, so I decided to meet up with a friend because after all, it was raining, so most of their parents would be stuck in traffic. I chose the first on my list of three contacts. \"Hey, you still at school?\" I was anxious. I was always anxious when it came to social encounters. I paced briskly from one end of the foyer to the other for what seemed like an eternity, but was in reality probably only a few minutes. \"No, sorry. Are you?\" I ignored this question as it was completely irrelevant and revisited my contact list.\n\nAfter staring at the screen for a moment, I skipped over the second person on my list, as I didn't particularly want to see her and was fairly confident that her bus had left. I opened the conversation with my third and final friend. I typed in eagerly \"Are you still at the school?\" Moments later, my phone chimed happily and I read \"Yes. Are you?\" I couldn't reply fast enough. \"Yeah. We could meet up. Where are you?\" My phone instantly showed it as read and quickly brought up a new message saying \"I'm outside.\"\n\nThis merited a celebration or at least a double fist pump, as this friend happened to be a tall, attractive boy whom I happened to have a crush on and whom the second friend on my contact list had spilled my secret to. I struggled a little in my attempt to form a coherent sentence without sounding as awkward as I felt. \"My stepmom says I can't stand outside when it's raining, so I'm in the lobby.\" I read over it twice. It seemed fine. I hit send and instantly, almost magically, realized that I had written the wrong thing. What was now showing up on his screen was an embarassing monstrosity that never should have been written.\n\nI shut my eyes tight, dug my knuckles into my eye sockets until I could see spots, and ding ding I held my breath and looked at my phone, which had highlighted the message \"OK. I'm on my way.\" I sighed in relief and put my phone away just in time to see him push the door open and pace toward me quickly enough that I honestly believed that I was supposed to run away.\n\nHe reached me, chuckled nervously, and said \"So...[second friend in contacts] told me that you like me. Is it true?\" I wasn't falling for the same thing I did in sixth grade. I knew there was some sort of joke here. There always is in school. I cleared my throat \"What exactly did she say?\" She had told me earlier that week what she would say to him, which involved a game of either hangman or twenty questions, but I knew that it was extremely unlikely that she had followed through with those plans. \"Well...she, um, said that somebody in our fourth period class had a crush on me. I asked if it was someone I knew. She said 'yes'. I asked if she was blonde. She said 'yes'.\", he stuttered as if this were painful to him in some way. \n\nI couldn't believe it. She had used a game of twenty questions to tell him. I sighed and calmly retorted \"I know what you're getting at, but I'm only one of four blondes in our fourth period.\" That answer seemed pretty foolproof until he smirked and said in a singsongy voice \"But you're the only blonde I know, so is it true?\" I was miserable and at a loss for words. After thinking for a few seconds, I decided to confuse him as one of my many lovely defenses \"It depends on if you like me.\"\n\n\"What?\" he laughed, even though I knew there was nothing about this he found funny in the least. I laughed similarly and explained \"At the moment, yes, but I don't like people who don't like me, so if you like me, then I like you, but if you don't, I won't waste my time having a crush on you.\" He looked frightened and said nervously \"Well, I kinda have a thing for you.\"\n\nI gave a sigh of relief and said \"Great. I guess I wasn't wasting my time.\" He then asked if I wanted to be his girlfriend, which I somehow wasn't expecting to hear. \"Actually, I...uh, don't think that would be a good idea. I'm very defensive, as you know, and I don't do well with physical contact. I'm extremely awkward in new social situations and I wouldn't want to subject you to that.\" He smiled broadly and said \"I can relate.\" \"Okay, then. I guess we're dating now.\"\n\nHe then reached out his arms as if to hug me. I jumped back and half-shouted \"What are you doing?!\"", "Ben picked me up before class in his little green Geo. It was a crummy car, but I loved it. Quiet and small. I felt safe.\n\n\"Where's Nicole?\" I asked.\n\nHe shrugged a shoulder and smiled over at me. \"I dunno,\" he said. \"She said she didn't need a ride.\"\n\nI was starving, so we pulled up at the Shell station for Mountain Dew and those little breakfast sandwiches you pop in the microwave. Yum. Bacon.\n\n\"We're going to be late,\" I observed.\n\nBen shrugged again. I knew he didn't care, and he knew I didn't either. Nicole was the only one who worried about perfect attendance.\n\nWe drove to the park on the way, and sat on the hood of the car eating our sandwiches. The sun was still low in the sky, pink streaking through the blue as it rose. There were still geese on the lake, but the ducks were gone.\n\n\"I hate geese,\" I said.\n\nBen nodded. We agreed on most things.\n\nFor nearly an hour, we sat in a comfortable silence. A squirrel ran up almost to the car, and Ben tossed it a few bits of bacon.\n\n\"Squirrels don't eat meat, stupid,\" I said.\n\nHe laughed. \"What's that one doing, then?\"\n\nSure enough, the squirrel was eating the bacon. \"Well, usually they don't.\"\n\nWe crumpled up the wrappers and Ben tossed his on the ground. I sighed and slid off the car, scooping up his paper with mine. I stomped over to the nearest wastebasket and tossed them in. \"Save the planet,\" I said. \"Asshole.\"\n\nHe laughed, a deep full-bodied rumble that vibrated through the leather seats as I sat down.\n\nBen started the car, and I flipped the visor down to check my makeup. All good.\n\nIt was only a few minutes drive to the school. Ben ran around the side of the car and tried to get the door for me. He got there just as I swung it open, and it whacked him in the stomach. \n\n\"Oof,\" he said.\n\nI laughed. \"What the hell are you doing?\"\n\nHe shook his head. \"Holding the door,\" he said, \"for m'lady.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes and tossed my backpack at him. \"If I'm a lady, carry my books.\"\n\nHe laughed and tossed the bag over his shoulder. He was pretty tall, and I've always been insanely short, so the bag was higher than the top of my head. I reached up and grabbed a notebook out of the front pocket.\n\n\"Toss that in my locker for me?\" I yelled over my shoulder, as I ran to class. He shouted something after me but I couldn't make it out.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n---\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nMs. Soebbing glared at me as I slid into my seat five minutes before class ended. I smirked back at her and passed up my perfectly completed homework assignment. She let me get away with murder because she loved seeing me turn in her calculus class' assignments as extra credit.\n\nAlgebra, Chemistry, Home Economics. I was ready to fall asleep by the time I got to lunch.\n\nTechnically it wasn't even my lunch hour, but I had no problem ditching study hall.\n\nI slid into a seat at Ben's table and stole a fry. He tucked my head under one massive arm and messed up my hair.\n\n\"Asshole,\" I said as he released me. I shoved at him and he pretended to fall. I snagged another fry while he was clowning around.\n\n\"So what did you get for her?\" Derek asked.\n\nI must have been late, they already had a conversation going. \"What are we talking about?\"\n\nDerek pulled his pizza out of my reach just as my fingers touched the plate. \"Nicole's birthday.\"\n\nI nodded. \"I got her a CD,\" I said. \"Couldn't think of anything else.\"\n\nI gave Ben a considering look. \"Hasn't she asked for anything?\" Nicole wasn't the type to tiptoe around giving hints.\n\nHe nodded, a queer look on his face. What was that all about? I swiped Milo's milk and took a swig before he could complain. I was starving, but you couldn't get anything without your student ID and it clearly stated which lunch hour you had.\n\nBesides, this way I ate for free.\n\n\"She wanted this bracelet,\" Ben said. \"It's not a big deal, but I don't know.\"\n\nI raised an eyebrow. \"Don't know what?\"\n\nDerek snorted. \"He wants to dump her, but the stupid ass is waiting till after her birthday.\"\n\n\"Really?\" I asked, pointlessly.\n\nBen's head dipped to stare at some invisible spot near the center of his chest. \"Shut up, Derek.\"\n\nI rolled my eyes again. Nicole was my best friend, sure, but I wasn't going to go blabbing this news and ruin her birthday or anything.\n\nWell, maybe I would, but only because she was so smug all the time about dating a senior.\n\nI swiped another fry while Ben was distracted. He reached out and slid the paper tray over to me. \"Take them,\" he said.\n\nI pulled a few mayonnaise packets from the center of the table and slathered the fries with them.\n\n\"That's gross, Jai,\" Derek said. \"Who does that?\"\n\nI giggled and held out a dripping fry. \"Want some?\" \n\nHis nose wrinkled in disgust as a blob of mayo dropped to the table. \"It looks like semen.\"\n\nMilo started laughing. We were never quite sure what was wrong with Milo. He was one of the \"special\" kids. The guys always let him sit with us, laughing at him. They were never cruel, but they laughed and he didn't get the jokes. They never hung out with him either.\n\n\"What the fuck are you laughing about?\" Dave asked. \"You don't even know what semen is, do you Milo?\"\n\nMilo looked at me, his coke-bottle lenses hiding the question I knew was in his eyes.\n\nI opened my mouth to help.\n\n\"Shut up Jai,\" Dave boomed.\n\nDerek turned to the poor idiot. \"What's semen, Milo?\" His eyes landed on some used sugar packets on the table. He held one up victoriously, a gleam of triumph on his face. \"Semen is sweet, right, Milo?\" he went on, \"Semen is...\"\n\nHe cast about for further inspiration.\n\nDave cackled. \"Nutrasweet,\" he chortled. \"Right? Right Milo?\"\n\nMilo nodded. \"Yeah,\" he said in his slow drawl. His head bobbed up and down as he talked. \"Semen is Nutrasweet.\"\n\nDerek was taking a drink, and the milk spurted out of his mouth as he broke out laughing. It sprayed all over the front of my blouse.\n\nI grimaced.\n\n\"Milo, you're a fruit, man,\" Derek laughed. \"A fuckin' fruit.\"\n\nBob bob went Milo's head. He opened his mouth to speak and I winced. \"I like strawberries.\"\n\nThe guys cracked up again. Ben's hand fell on my shoulder. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered. \"I have an extra t-shirt in my locker,\" he said. \"Want to change?\"\n\nPoor Milo was sitting there looking all confused. I should really stay and protect him.\n\nBen's breath was warm on my neck. Why was he still leaning so close?\n\nMy blouse clung to my chest, and I caught Derek leering at me. Gross. Even worse, it was starting to feel clammy.\n\nI took Ben's hand and let him help me to my feet. Pulling my hand away, I strode down the hallway, and he hurried to catch up. \n\nThe bell rang as we reached his locker.\n\n\"Shit,\" I said.\n\nBen shook his head. \"Don't worry. I'll wait with you.\"\n\nI grabbed his t-shirt and we walked toward the girls' bathroom.\n\n\"So what did you get Nicole?\" I asked.\n\nHis shoulder rolled back. It did that when he was uncomfortable. \"A teddy bear,\" he said.\n\n\"I got a CD,\" I repeated stupidly.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he said. \"I know.\"\n\nAs we reached the bathroom, he stopped me with a jerk of my arm. \"Trade me.\" \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Trade gifts. A teddy bear's romantic, right?\" \n\n\"Uhmm... I guess so.\"\n\n\"I don't want to give her something romantic,\" he said. \"I don't want to lead her on.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" I shrugged, knocking his hand off my arm. \"Let me change.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n---\n\n&nbsp;\n\nWe got back to the lunchroom, and I slid into line to get my tray. I'd never had a chance to eat my fries. They had amazing salads with this cold pasta on the bottom. I loved them drenched in buttermilk ranch dressing.\n\nBen reached across my arm to pay for my food. I let him, cause, hey, he's well off and I'm poor, so why not?\n\nHe carried my tray back to our second-hour table, across the lunch hall from our first-hour table.\n\nNicole was glaring daggers at me. Probably pissed that I hadn't called her this morning. I let Ben take the seat beside her, and slid in next to Faith instead.\n\nFaith reached over and pulled a tomato off the top of my salad. Dammit. Obviously she didn't have any lunch money again. Her dad was such a tightwad.\n\nI put my brownie on a napkin and slid half the salad onto the plate, sliding it over to Faith.\n\nNicole leaned against Ben. \"Hi babe,\" she said, lifting her head for a kiss. Ben jumped up as Natalia approached.\n\n\"Heya Nat!\" he said. \"Didn't expect to see you over here.\"\n\nNat sneered at all of us. \"Election,\" she said. \"Tomorrow.\" She dropped a flyer in the center of the table and marched off. Bitch.\n\nBen leaned in to grab the flyer just as Nicole reached for a kiss again. God, now that I knew, I realized he'd been avoiding her touch for a while.\n\nI wondered if she saw it.\n\nNicole pouted. \"Bennyyy,\" she drawled. \"Did you get a chance to buy me something pretty?\"\n\nBen nodded stiffly. \"Hey, Jai,\" he said. \"You going to be at the party tonight?\"\n\n\"Ugh,\" I said. I hated crowds. \"Only for you, Nicole.\"\n\nShe returned my smile with a sneer. \"You make a handsome man, Jai,\" she said, pointing at my oversized t-shirt. \"Well, you don't really. But you make a better guy than a girl.\"\n\nI winced.\n\n\"Nicole, why do you have to be such a bitch?\" Ben shouted, out of nowhere.\n\nNicole jumped up and stalked away from the table. Then she spun on her heel, came back, and slapped me.\n\n\"What the fuck, Nicole?\"\n\nWhat did I do? She marched off again before I could ask.\n\nBen came over and draped an arm around my shoulder. \"You okay, kiddo?\" he asked.\n\n\"Fuck you, I'm fine,\" I said. \"Go check on your psycho girlfriend.\"\n\nBen dropped his arm and gave me an odd look. He stared just long enough that it felt awkward, then followed after Nicole.\n\n\"What was that all about?\" I asked Faith.\n\nShe dropped her head and dug in to the salad.\n\n\"Jai, you're an idiot,\" Dawn said.\n\n\"Usually,\" I replied, sitting down to finish my lunch.\n\nFaith snorted and fell silent.\n\n&nbsp;\n", "Screams. Crying. Maniacal laughter. \n\n\n\"Help me please! Dear God!\" \n\n\n\"You're going to HELL!\" \n\n\nI turn off my radio alarm and make a note to switch stations for tomorrow's wake up call. Halloween was still weeks away, but every other church in town was jumping on the Haunted Hell House bandwagon. Getting up before the sun was hard enough without a traumatizing message at an earsplitting volume greeting you multiple times.\n\n\nI kick around piles of clothes until I find jeans that still have a few more weeks worth of wear before needing to be washed. I pair it with a religious themed shirt, feeling particularly pious knowing that I'm already protected against the radio's warning. \n\n\nIt's bright yellow, a color I normally shy from since it brings in too much attention, and I'm more of a reads-alone type of girl. I accidentally stole it from camp this past summer, and was so embarrassed when I found out, I couldn't find a way to return it. It also has a family swear word, reading \"Shut up and worship,\" so I couldn't wear it until high school, where independence is completely new to me. \n\n\nChecking the clock, I see I only have a few minutes before I normally leave to catch the bus. I grab my backpack and shove in all the books and papers off my desk. I throw on my new wedge boots and grab a granola bar and rush out the door. \n\n\nLuckily, the stop is on the end of my street. Sometimes, I walk to the previous stop seven blocks down, but with my shiny new boots, I don't want to risk scuffing them, or general fatigue. Puberty hit my friends before me, and I'm still trying to figure out this whole girl thing. I don't see the importance of wearing impractical clothing, but I'm making an effort. \n\n\nI reach my stop and I'm the first one there. Or maybe the bus came early and everyone's already gone. Twenty minutes pass and I'm still alone and the bus still hasn't come yet, but the sun has. I check my watch, it's time for the late bell to ring. I wonder if I have time to sneak into the house, change and hide my shirt, and then ask for a ride from my mom, calculating how late that would make her. Or maybe I should wait until after she leaves, and then play hooky, pretending to have been sick.\n\n\nJust as I'm about to cross the street and head back, the bus finally shows up. It's full, my normal stop mates having used my idea to get on at the previous stop for better seats. Damn these shoes. Every seat is paired off already, either with students or backpacks, and I feel a bit like Forrest without a Jenny as I reach the back without anyone giving up their belongings for a freshman. With the glares of my peers impatiently boring into the back of my skull, I squat on the floor between seats, scuffing my shoes but able to sit on the high wedge. \n\n\nBy the time we reach the campus, first period is nearly half over, and this teacher is a stickler for tardiness, much like myself. Without even stopping by my locker to drop off the extra weight of the books, I rush up the nearest flight of stairs. It's an old school, and each staircase has its own personality, much like the Hogwarts staircases I read about secretly in the school library. The ones that I chose today were uneven, and in my haste I neglected to pay attention to each length of each step. \n\n\nI tripped with only five more stairs to go, landing fast and hard with the backpack weighing me down. My first reaction is to look around me to make sure no one saw. I am in luck, and brush the dirt and blood from my hands on my still clean-enough-to-wear jeans. Each knee throbs as I pull myself up, climbing the seven steps and limping to the classroom. \n\n\nThe teacher stops his lecture on Earth Space Science as I find an empty seat, of course, in the back. Collapsing in the chair, I pull out notebook paper and a pen, and jot down all the notes from the board, and from the teacher's mouth, once he got over the self-created scene. I glance at my neighbor's notes to see if I can catch anything I missed, but she's in her own little world, making small giggles and wiping at her red eyes. She must've been crying earlier from being switched out of biology, there are dozens of little plant doodles on her closed notebook. \n\n\nThe bell rings and I dart off to my next four classes, each on alternating floors. The last teacher keeps us five minutes late as a lesson to the one guy who wouldn't show respect towards the end, and with two minutes until the buses are due to depart, I race down another unfamiliar staircase, having found a shortcut. \n\n\nFalling down is different than falling up, I discovered that day with mortification. Not only is there a welcoming wrought iron gate waiting for you, you have the added bonus of public humiliation. I look around to satisfy my gluttony for punishment, and see a son of a deacon not two steps behind where I fell. Once he descends the five steps, he and his girlfriend walk around me without a second glance. His apathy is taken as a blessing, as his silence on the clumsy embarrassment and the stolen tee-shirt are kept in exchange for my silence on his secular significant other.\n\n\nI reach the bus loading zone to find it buss-less. I sit with my bus-mates and wait the half an hour it takes the driver to arrive, using a bit of algebra to stop my forehead from bleeding. \n\n\nThat weekend, Goodwill found a set of scuffed boots and a lightly worn shirt on their donation desk." ]	5
	[FF] A man in a bar spills himself to the bartender about the woman he loved who has just left him and cut off all connection in his life, the man is broken and you are the bartender, what advice in no more than 50 words can you give him to help his situation?	[ "\"You remember that old jingle, 'the best part of waking up / is folgers in your cup?' Well. It’s true, sometimes. The only thing to wake up for is a cup of coffee. At least you had more, for a time – and now? Well… Coffee’s still cheap, at least.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You wake up in an underground cavern with one other person. It is pitch black, and there is no apparent way out. The other person is a mute.	[ "My heads aches as I roll over on the ground. I suddenly regain feeling and open my eyes to see that I’m lying on rocks. I cough and try to stand up slowly gripping the walls for support due to my massive headache. It aches so horribly that I feel as if the world is spinning and I vomit. I hear something scurrying on the other side of the room in the darkness.\n\nA young man steps into a small center of light near a half dead lantern. He is quiet with a suspicious look on his face. \n\n“Did you do this?!” I shout as I try to walk towards him.\n\nHe shakes his head no and I trip over something and fall to the rocky floor helplessly. After a minute, he comes over and offers a hand. He helps me up and I grip his shoulder for balance. He has some muscles but is still very thin. \n\n“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I ask wondering why on Earth anyone would be down here. It is pitch dark save for a small circle of light near the lantern and so extremely humid that it is hard to breathe. He gestures to his throat and I shake my head confused.\n\n“I don’t want to play charades! Why am I down here?!” I yell pushing him back into a rocky wall.\n\nHe rolls his eyes and coughs. There is something strange about his cough though; as if it were missing something. He gestures to his throat again and so I push him a little harder.\n\n“What are you a coward or a mute?!” I shout picking up a rock and pretending I’m going to throw it at him.\n\nHe puts his hands up defensively and nods profusely. I look at him confused and drop my rock.\n\n“You’re a mute?” I ask quietly.\n\nHe nods with an annoyed look on his face and I put my hands over my mouth. I begin to apologize profusely and he seems to chuckle. \n\n“My name is Tally,” I say sticking my hand out for a handshake. He smiles and shakes it as I awkwardly wonder how he’ll tell me his name. He looks around awkwardly too trying to figure it out and then sits down in the dirt with the small lantern. I follow and watch as he begins to etch his name in the dirt. \n“Bruce?” I ask attempting to read the dirt as the lantern flickers hopelessly. \nHe nods and wipes his hands on his denim jeans. When I stand up I begin to feel dizzy again and he grabs me before I fall. \n\n“What is wrong with me?” I ask rhetorically burying my face in my hands as an attempt to stop the constant spinning. \n\nBruce puts his hand on my back and sits next to me patiently. After a few minutes, he coughs and so I look up; he is just fidgeting with our nearly dead lantern. \n\n“Do you know why we’re here Bruce?” I ask weakly as he plays with the lantern. \n\nHe shakes his head no and coughs again. I gasp as he nearly drops our lantern and so I take it and place it on a wooden shelf in the small room. I look at the shelf confused and take a look around the rest of the room. There were no doors or windows; just a long wooden counter like a bar and a few wooden shelves along with a few benches. Bruce lies down on the bench and covers his eyes so I walk over to him for further interrogation. \n\n“What is the last thing you remember?” I ask sitting in the dirt next to him.\n\nHe looks at me with a smile and points to his throat again.\n\nI groan and insist, “Charades it! We need to figure out why we’re here and get out!” \n\nHe rolls his eyes and thinks for a minute. He then mimes eating and drinking and so I jump up in excitement.\n\n“I was eating too! I was on a date!” I shout bouncing in place.\n\nHe nods perplexed and then looks at me curiously as if he wants to ask something but he sighs knowing that he is incapable. \n\n“Were you able to talk before you got down here?” I ask scared of what his answer would be. \n\nHe chuckles again and shakes his head no; at least we weren’t dealing with some sadistic saw villain here. \n\n“How do we get out?” I ask surveying the room again hoping a door would pop up. \n\nBruce shrugs and I can see fear in his eyes; as scared as I was, he must be terrified considering he couldn’t even communicate. \n\n“Do you think we’ll die from lack of oxygen or do you think whoever brought us down here will come back to finish us off?” I ask imagining both scenarios in my head and getting equally terrified from each one. \n\nBruce shakes his head no and grabs my hand tightly. He kisses it and smiles at me making me chuckle. Although the situation was terrible, it was nice that he was trying to be a gentleman. \n\nI take a deep breath and try to clear all the pessimistic thoughts from my head. Bruce seems to be in a state of meditation with his eyes closed so I tap his shoulder. \n\n“Bruce, what if we starve or die of thirst?” I ask unable to achieve the same clarity and level of peace. \n\nHe takes my hand and leads me behind the counter. Under the counter, there are milk gallons labelled, “Water” with duct tape. I nod although my mind wonders if the water is clean and drinkable in all the gallons. \n\nBruce sits down again so I follow him. I begin to ask another question but he lightly puts his hand over my mouth with a smile. I look quietly at him as he goes back into his meditation and then glance around the room. Bruce is right, voicing my fears isn’t getting us anywhere and there are no obvious exits. Our best bet is to remain calm and take things as they come. I sigh and try to breathe deeply but my mind can’t stop wandering to Bruce. I am completely filthy with dirt covering my entire outfit and yet he still seems to be decent; Is Bruce lying to me? \n", "\"H-h-hello?\"\n\nDaniel waited to hear a reply but only his own voice echoed back. \n\nWhat is going on? I can't see a single thing, he thought to himself. He tried to picture what he had been doing to even get here in the first place. I had fallen asleep in my bed at around 2AM--at least, that's the last time I saw on the computer screen--but that was it, he recalled. \n\n\"Is anybody else here? Am I being held hostage!? SOMEBODY answer me!\"\n\nHe waited for a reply but was again met with only his own voice bouncing off of the enormous room he was in. \n\nIt's hot as hell in here! I need to find a way out before I die of heat or thirst.\n\nDaniel started searching blindly in what he assumed must be a cave of some sort according to the granular floor and ridged wall he felt. Then he felt something more familiar. \n\nAre- are these \"Jeans?\" he finished aloud, patting to feel a leg underneath them. \"Hello? Who are you!? Hello!?\" He continued patting up to the shirt and finally to the neck and head where he felt a poorly trimmed sideburn on a warm face. \n\n\"Are you alive?\" He felt the face nod. \n\n\"Can you say something? I'm Daniel. What's your name? Do you know where we are? Do you know how to get out of here?\" This time he, instead felt a shake of the head. \n\n\"You can't talk?\" Again, the head shook. \n\n\"Do you at least know where we are?\" asked Daniel, feeling desperate for something. This time he felt another nod.\n\nHow does he know? Did he bring me here?\n\n\"How do you know where we are? Did you bring me here!? I don't know what I d-\" Daniel stopped talking. The man had gently touched his hand, almost asking Daniel to trust him, then gently took hold of it. He placed Daniel's free hand on Daniel's eyes. The man put his other hand on top of Daniel's hand that was placed on the man's face and shook his head. He then took Daniel's other hand off of Daniel's eyes and placed it on his own at which point he nodded. He then repeated this. Daniel suddenly realized what was going on.\n\n\"You can see! You can see! But.... I.... I can't? What the heck?\"\n\nBut I could see fine when before I went to bed...? I definitely saw that top /r/gonewild post. She was perfect.\n\n\"Well\" another voice exclaimed out of nowhere, startling Daniel enough for him to jump, \"I think I know what's going on here.\" The voice sounded very country and had a certain rasp to it that told Daniel this guy was an old southern guy. He pictured the cowboy hat on him almost right away. \"I'm Roger, don't bother telling me your name though, kid. Can't hear a thing. Maybe you already figured that out since you've noticed you were blind and your newly acquainted friend over can't say a word to save his life! Ha ha ha HA! No pun intended! Well, anyway, I was listening to some rap music--as is my secret obsession which might surprise you since I'm a bit old for that stuff but I digress-- when suddenly I was whisked away to this place which is as hot as hell! Ha ha HA! No pun again, I swear! I'm guessing the mute boy was mouthing off to his girlfriend or something, and I'm guessing you were looking at something that woulda made your momma real ashamed of you; prob'ly some tig ol' bitties on the interweb! Well, you know what they say! See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil!\" " ]	2
	[WP] A dates invites you to dinner at his/her house. Midway through your dinner, you find out the food has been drugged.	[ "Waffles, a light dinner, a friend and new company, our hosts are too kind, two normal loving people, I take a second to reflect. \n\naaaaaaaAAAasMybodyisconvulsing and writhing like a serpent, in unceasing perpetual motion, completely independent from my own will. The line from which body and mind are connected had been cut. Aaaafucklovingcaringwonderfuldispicable dim red glow is emitted, but from where? It seems that the darkness, constant and vilified, is holding us, forcing us even, to stay our place, keep the dread, the terror, there is no way of explaining it. Beads of sweat drip down my back, yet I’d had been hard pressed for another occasion when I felt as cold. The concept of time had become so meaningless that to us it might have well stopped, or advanced a thousand years, in any case it wouldn’t matter. I can't focus, the room is too dark, If I tried to focus, whatever can be subjected to one’s imagination started to chatter and overwhelm my eyes, forcing me back into my own head, like a slaver snapping his whip over a blind man’s torso, as to break his hope of freedom. So I let my eyes dance around the room at their own pace, the energy has been completely drained away, knocked out of me. I look up at Hash, who’d been standing, with satisfaction that he’d escaped this terrible fate, but my suspicions were cut short with incredible speed, as not as soon as I’d thought that very thought, he collapsed onto the duvet that’d been strung over the two seater sofa, graciously given by our hosts, and started to contort and writhe in the same manner as me, to what I could understand as a few moments ago. I sprung up and grabbed him by the arm, he was pouring sweat. I propped him up against the bottom half of the sofa, and whilst fighting off my own physical demons that ailed me, and keeping him under control the best I could, looked into his eyes. He was mumbling something, or shouting, or screaming. His eyes dart and dive and peak at such velocity, desperately trying to make sense of themselves. Remembering this callous, depraved state I leaned in, whispering, “It’s not real, you’ll get through this”, “How do you know?” he looked up at me. This question hit me like a steam train, I couldn’t help but appear dumbstruck, how did I know? We’d deteriorated the level of bacteria, and the sense of worthlessness that came with it. Hash glanced at me, eyes speeding, mouth half grinning, half frowning, his skin had become like wax. “Do you think,” he muttered, “We’ll die” “No!” I found myself barking instantly. That’s not to say that I completely trusted my own word.", "Her broad smile, petite frame, and neat mid-length hairstyle confirmed that her profile had been accurate in terms of her appearance at least. I gave her a weak smile and my meager bouquet of tulips. She beamed. Her coral lipstick suited her.\n\n\"Come on in!\" said Lily brightly as she accepted the flowers and led me into the doorway. Amazed how quickly her warm demeanor and bright decor soothed me, I obediently followed her into her home. \"I'm so glad you could make it! Typically guys want to meet somewhere public for the first date, not that I blame them, but as a chef I hate leaving a first meal up to someone else, you know?\"\n\nI couldn't help but notice the gentle lilt of her words. \"Do you by any chance have an accent, or...?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" she answered shyly. \"I spent most of my childhood in France. Cooking kind of runs in my family.\"\n\n\"It sounds beautiful,\" I offered, causing her smile to deepen and a charming blush to color her cheeks. She crossed the room to the kitchen, returning with a pair of half-full wineglasses. I accepted mine with a \"thank you\" and watched her walk into the kitchen to presumably check on dinner. This was great. Fantastic. I couldn't believe my luck, as this was the first date I'd set up since my ex some six months ago. Lily had appeared sweet in our text messages, but in real life she looked like she'd walked straight out of a movie. Charming, sweet, accomplished career woman, and she looked like a cross between Rachel McAdams and Anne Hathaway. The sweet red wine lulled me into a state of drowsy contentment as I peered at the photographs hanging on her wall.\n\n\"Alright,\" said Lily as she whisked into the room, \"The quail is resting, so we'll start off with the tomato bisque, then by then the roast should be perfect so we'll have that and the rosemary potatoes and green beans with a lemon dressing, then for dessert I made pavlova with raspberries. You ever had pavlova?\"\n\n\"I've never heard of pavlova.\"\n\n\"That's a shame, it's fabulous,\" she said, taking my hand and leading me to the dining room. Her interior design was both cheerful and classic, her use of color plentiful without seeming garish. I gaped at the lemon yellow walls and floral tablecloth and distressed wooden dining set.\n\n\"You have good taste,\" I said as I tucked in her chair for her and sat across the table. The bisque smelled heavenly, I thought to myself as I gingerly took a sip.\n\nLily smiled. \"Thanks. Are you interested in interior design, Charles?\"\n\nI laughed. \"Not quite, though as an architect I guess it doesn't fall too far outside my line of work. Your home is just so warm and colorful, it's actually somewhat inspiring. I'm actually a bit of an amateur photographer, I'd love to take some photos of your house and post them to my blog sometime, if that'd be alright with you.\"\n\n\"Ooh, I didn't know you had a blog, I'd love to take a look at it sometime,\" she said excitedly. \"Oh, hang on, let me grab the roast, I'll be right back!\" I finished up my bisque, thrilled at the possibility of another date, and grinned at the elegantly-arranged plates of roast quail and vegetables. She scurried back into the kitchen and returned with a cake stand, atop which sat a delicate confection of meringue topped with whipped cream and raspberries and garnished with mint.\n\n\"This is all so sophisticated,\" I confessed as I hastily carved and served a portion of the main course onto my plate. Her soft brown eyes met mine as I took a bite of poultry. She bit her lip.\n\nLily continued to watch me eat, smiling dreamily. \"I'm so glad you're enjoying it. You came off as having a delicate palate when we chatted, so I wanted to make you something special.\" She sipped her wine. \"That, and I wanted a chance to make quail.\"\n\nThe quail was indeed delicious, and I found I'd eaten most of it without noticing. I took a bite of potato, staring off into space while I mulled over my dinner. The vintage standing lamp in the corner of the room gave off a soft white hue, so bright it blurred my vision. I blinked a few times, trying to clear it. Perhaps I should've paced myself better with the wine. My face was growing unnaturally warm. \"Excuse me,\" I murmured, \"But where's the restroom? The wine...\"\n\nMy date giggled. \"Down the hall first door on the left.\" I stood wordlessly, feeling my neck break out in a cold sweat, only to crumple to my knees. I stared frantically up at Lily, trying to speak but feeling as though my mouth were stuffed with paste. She picked up her dessert fork and dug straight into the pavlova, smiling sweetly and taking her bite. My vision continued to blur as I gurgled helplessly from the floor. She daintily rubbed some excess cream from the corner of her mouth and licked it off her finger. \"Something wrong, Charles?\"", "As I walk up to Carol's door, I try to calm my nerves. We've gone out on a few dates, so I shouldn't be nervous. But this time, this time she actually invited me for dinner at her place. \"132...\" I mumble looking reading off the numbers. My breath gets shorter and my palms get sweatier when I recognize the number she told me. I start to second guess what I'm wearing, \"Is the suit too much? Maybe I should have gone more casual. Oh crap! I forgot flowers.\" Knocking on the door I continue my streak of insecurity. \"What if it's the wrong number? Maybe she meant 7:00 instead of 6:00.\" Distracted by my own thoughts, I jumped when the door opened. I looked at Carol who was wearing a long red dress. Her long blazing red hair fell over her shoulder to one side, covering one eye. \"Oh great! You're here! Perfect timing!\" She said giving me a hug, which instantly relieved my nerves. Pulling back from the hug and fixing her hair she said \"Dinner has just finished. Come on in and we can eat!\" she turned around and walked toward her counter. I walked in after her. \"Do you need any help with anything?\" I asked. \"Nope, nothing at all. Just have a seat.\" I took my seat and waited for her to come with the food. She brought over the food and set it down on the table in front of me. \"I'm not the best at cooking, but I tried really hard on it. It's my first time making chicken.\" She said smiling. I looked at the odd dish in front of me. Oh chicken. Thats what it's supposed to be. \"We'll don't be shy, eat up!\" Carol stabbed the glob of meat with a fork and moved it over to my plate. I noticed she didn't take any for herself. Probably just waiting to see my reaction to her cooking. I remembered what my dad always told me, \"If a woman cooks like shit, eat it anyway and pretend it's good. You can throw up later.\" I took a few bites and started chewing as she examined me with a hopeful expression. But something didn't feel right. It wasn't the taste, it hardly had a taste. In fact, it felt more like I was taking a trip to the dentist. My mouth began to feel numb and my vision went blurry. Blacking out, the last thing I saw was her sharp green eyes and crooked smile.\n\n---\n\nI awoke sometime later strapped to a bed in a daze. I tried looking around, but my vision was still blurry and the room was dark. My mouth had not quite gotten over the numbness which always annoyed me when I had gone to the dentist. \"Heeeeyyyyyyy Mitchell.... Wakey wakey! The drugs should be wearing off soon.\" A bright light came from the opposite side of the room I was now in. I immediately recognized the firey hair. The first thought that came to mind was that she stole my kidney. She apparently saw right through me. \"Don't you worry Mitchy... I didn't take anything of yours. Because what's yours is now ours!\" Carol's bubbly attitude creeped me out more than her words. \"Whaddidyudoooo....\" I dribbled, still getting over the fact that I could barely move my mouth. \"I can't hear you my truest love in the world! Say it again so I can hear your beautiful voice.\" She walked right up to me with her hands holding something behind her back. \"Whadddidyoo dotome.\" I dribbled again. \"What did I do? Well silly goose, I'm sure you know that I drugged you! Anybody could tell that! Especially the one being drugged!\" I noticed a slight chuckle in her voice. At this point my vision had become normal so I could see the room I was in. \"What....the.....fuck....\" I mumbled seeing her room finally. There were pictures of me everywhere, a blowup doll dressed to look like me with my face imprinted on it. A fucking quilt with my face on it. Most of the pictures in the room didn't have me looking at the camera. One of the ones on a night stand next to me looked like it was taken right outside the window of my apartment. MY APARTMENT! I shot a look back at Carol, \"What are you going to do to me!?\" \"Well I was thinking, first we can go to the park, then we can go to the movies, then maybe dinner and then another movie!\" Carol responded. I looked at another picture out of fear. It was one of the few she was in. She was taking a selfie at the park with me, but I don't remember going to the park with her. Oh. My. God. It was the doll! \"You brought a blowup doll that looks like me to the park! What's wrong with you!\" I yelled at the top of my lungs. She suddenly looked sad and started moving her hands from behind her back. \"I love your voice, but I can't let you be loud or else people might hear too much.\" \"What do you mean.\" \"I mean,\" She paused, revealing a knife. \"I'm going to have to devoice you. It's okay though!\" She began to get more cheerful as she leaned toward me. \"I know what I'm doing!\"", "She smiles at me, a big beautiful smile that reveals hints of crow's feet in the corner of her eyes. Not the kind brought on by age; the kind brought on by smiles, laughs, and good life. I look at her eyes, a beautiful bright blue with specks of grey and hazel, but in the dim light of the room they seem almost black.\n\nThe room itself is nice enough. Tired yellow wallpaper adorn the walls between bookshelves filled with the course literature of all the housemates. The furniture predominately looks second-hand, tattered and worn in places. A dining table with four chairs stands between the kitchen counter and an off-green three-seat sofa. I don't notice the carpet, but it's a faded red with suspicious stains of dark red in front of the sofa. \"Fairly standard student flat\", I think to myself.\n\nShe leads me into the room and indicates for me to sit on the sofa with a casual gesture. She puts on some music, I don't recognise it, but it's fairly relaxed and jazz-like; instrumental. She hasn't sat down, she is walking back and forth instead, swaying gently with the music. I notice her face. It's pretty; subtle cheekbones, small nose with freckles, thin lips and big eyes. She catches me looking, still with a smile.\n\n\"I made some food earlier, tortelloni. Would you like some?\" she says in an off-handed manner. \"That would be nice.\" I reply \"I brought a bottle of shitty wine we can share.\"\n\nI open the wine and start looking for glasses whilst she heats the food. As I search the cabinet I briefly notice that she's left a couple pieces of the stuffed pasta on the plates, unheated. I think it would be weird to mention, so I leave it and quickly forget. \n\nWe're seated at the table, midway through the meal, the smell of tomatoes and Parmesan permeate the lounge. We're talking about nothing and everything, as students are wont to do. She's seems to be completely captivated and enthused by the conversation and the music. Again, I notice her eyes, this time I'm less sure it's a trick of the light.\n\nI skewer one the pasta pieces on my plate and place it in my mouth. It's slightly colder than the others and as I chew it I can feel and taste a papery texture in my mouth. Not wanting to offend her by spitting out the food, I quickly swallow it along with the remnants in my wine glass. Suddenly I remember the pieces she left cold on the plate, I can't recall if they were only on one plate. \n\nA horribly bitter, foul taste is spreading in my mouth, not in the least alleviated by the wine.\n\n\"Did you put something in this?!\" I ask with a mix of bafflement, anger, and fear in my voice.\n\nShe looks at me, still with that smile, and strokes my hand firmly. Her eyes, her smile, and the flat itself turns sinister as she says \"Maybe... I thought it would be fun, I didn't mean to upset you.\"\n\n\"What did you put in it?!\" I half-shout, no longer trying to mask my anger.\n\nHowever, as I ask the question, the pieces all fall together in my head. Her smile; her eyes; her restless, swaying walk along with the music; her captivation and enthusiasm; and most of all, the taste. \n\nBaffled, and before she has time to answer my shout, I say \"This is MDMA, you put a bomb in the pasta!\" She laughs out loud and says \"I thought it'd be fun.\"\n\n\"That is not okay.\" I say. In full knowledge that it, and everything else, will be far more than okay in half an hour.\n\n\"I'm sorry\" she says, \"I wasn't thinking clearly.\" She strokes my hand again, less firm this time, almost in a repentant manner.\n\nI let out a sigh and small, dry laugh. \n\"Well, there are worse ways to spend a night.\" I say, with a small, somewhat involuntary, smile.", "\"I feel a little funny.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah? Funny?\" \n\nShe's smiling mischievously, and by now I have my suspicions. I try to play it off, make it into a joke. \"Did you spike the salad? I mean, it was good, but maybe I wouldn't have taken that extra helping, gotta drive later...\" My voice trails off halfway through what wasn't shaping up to be that good a joke, but she's smiling wider, looks like she's about to laugh.\n\n\"You barely touched the salad, silly! It was mixed in with the potatoes. You always were a sucker for potatoes.\" \n\nI tip her a smile in return as the wall takes on a rainbow hue, \"Aww, you shouldn't have, but thanks babe! I didn't know you knew where to get that much liquid LSD!\"\n\nShe only answers with a laugh, and I can tell she's started to trip balls as well. It is going to be a good night.\n\n", "Everything tasted wonderful \neven the roasted peppers \nwhich was odd because \nusually I hate peppers. \nI couldn't stop eating. \nThen I realized why. \nThe Mission. \nThe fate of the know universe \ndepended on me. \nWho else could stop \nthe massing Hippolytos'? \nFood would be essential \nHippolytos' were highly \nallergic to methane \nwhich causes them to \nbreak out in dance. \nHippolytos' can't dance, \nthey have absolutely no rhythm. \nTrapped in a paradox, \nthey are eliminated. \nIn the ensuing parade, \nticker-tape streaming down, \nI would be able to \nmoon everyone. \nThe true hero on display, \nI would win the bet \nwith James who, \nafter watching Forest Gump, \nsaid I couldn't show my \nass to the President. ", "I won't deny it, the food was freaking delicious. My mom was a shit cook, so anything homemade always made me think twice, but damn this chicken lasagna. I'm a pretty jittery guy, nervous and anxious all the time, and being invited over like this, I tried to be as calm as possible. I could still taste it on the wrinkles of my lips, muy bueno.\n\n'So, how did you two meet?' Oh boy, here we go. That's how it all began.\n\nI started with a chuckle, 'Well you know, the old fashioned way.She was walking along, and she dropped her wallet from her purse, nobody seemed to notice, so I ran over and picked it up for her, and then... Yeah, the rest leads us to here.' I gave a hearty smile, and her cheeks redden.\n\nI looked at her blue eyes, lucious lashes, and curly rivelets of perfection, I sliced up another piece of chicken and took a bite.\n\n'How did you feel when you first saw my little angel?' Angelica's mother continued.\n\nI looked over to Angelica again, 'In heaven.' \n\nHer mother squealed with excitement, 'Oh James, thats what you said to me on our first date! My knight in shining armor!' I looked at the somewhat wrinkled couple twinkle eyes at one another.\n\nWe had been together for four years, she was definitely a sweet gal. I went to slice another piece of the chicken, before realizing that there was none left. I put down my utensils, but Mrs. Rona, she was like a hawk, immediately, she offered up another piece, I accepted without a doubt.\n\n'Now, Angelica, how about you? Her father continued.\n\n'Oh course I felt the same way daddy! I knew that day we would meet, he took his lucky keychain with him that day!' I paused my munching how did she know that? I never told her of my superstitions, ever. I blinked and swallowed down hard. \n\nI never told her, superstitions was something stupid that made me fear the world. Things like black cats, ladders, broken glass, would always come back to haunt me, if I dared to interact with them. I suffered from severe anxiety until I met her that day, I thought I was cured. She practically cured me of the outside world.\n\n'Sorry Angelica, what did you say? I must've been chewing to loud inside my own head.' I pulled a fake laugh.\n\n'I said, you brought your most charming smile that day. I knew we were destined to meet when you picked up my wallet.' I felt my stomach squeeze, there was something green in the chicken... An abnormal green. The Rona family started to look at me funny, tilting their heads and smiling a twisted grin. And then I heard a thump.\n\nWhen I awoke I found myself tied to a chair, 'Oh honey! Your up, you had slight food poisoning, you aren't allergic to anything are you?' I opened my eyes to the familiar sweet voice. She smiled and jingled another familiar sound, my keychain. She deeply kissed me on the lips, it felt like I was suffocating, she wouldn't let go. \n\nI pulled away to catch my breath.\n\nI looked to my arms and back into her eyes, 'Angelica, you have to let me go, please.' She tossed my keychain into the trash, and let her fingers run down my chin, 'Oh, but, I wouldn't want to leave the house without my luck charm, now would I?'\n\nBehind that heavenly twinkle, a devil snickered from a distance." ]	7
Based on this piece of news: http://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/read/artificial-wombs-are-coming-and-the-controversys-already-here Describe a day in the life of a society where children are cultured in human hives.	[WP] Artificial wombs are common. Society evolves to...?	[ "this is my first time and clearly i have no concept of brevity oh god i'm so sorry :(\n-----\n“And so it is unnatural! It is abnormal! An abomination!”\n\nThe crowd roars and cheers. Hoots and shouts deafening to your ears. The men and women around you jump and wave their arms wildly in the air, pushing you about in the already crowded space. A strong hand grabs hold of your shoulder, keeping you in place. You tilt your head up to the man who had grabbed you, sending him a worried look. He turns his head slightly towards you. He gives you a sharp, assuring nod, gesturing with his eyes for you to keep your head forward. You comply, knowing full well of the consequences of being found out.\n\nYou watch as the woman struts about on the stage. Her white suit almost blinding to your eyes under the harsh artificial lights. She adjusts the microphone tucked on the collar of her blazer as she flips her hoary bangs away.\n\n“This evening, I want each and every one of you here today to count down the minutes,” the woman pauses, and her audience pauses with her. She smiles, holding up a small device in her hand. “A glorious spectacle will take place an hour from now—A fiery display of fireworks that would bring down the technological oppression against the natural order! My friends, tonight, the Vanacoy Center for Reproductive Medicine and Infertility will fall!”\n\nThe crowd roars in excitement. The woman on the stage might have had more to say, but you stop listening. You tug lightly at your companion's sleeve, making sure he hears you.\n\n“Shit's getting real, James. Erin Wilke is officially cuckoo,” you whisper to him. “We gotta warn them about this.”\n\n“I can call backup—”\n\n“No no no. Bad idea. She might detonate the bomb even earlier if your pals start shooting everywhere. Okay, okay, I can send a message on my pager to my boss—”\n\n“You have a pager?”\n\n“Uh, yeah? I've been reporting in everyday through it. Now shut up and cover me, I need to...”\n\nYou freeze. Something is amiss. The stadium is silent. A spotlight focuses over you. The crowd starts to shuffle away from the beam. You hope the spotlight wasn't trying to single you out, so you shuffle with the crowd. Unfortunately, someone pushes your back, sending you stumbling back to the center of the spotlight.\n\nAs you right yourself, James gives you a raised eyebrow. You shrug in response, soundlessly mouthing at him, “What?”\n\n“And here they are! Our two lovely little spies!” the woman's voice resonates from mounted speakers, and yet you can hear the natural timbre of her voice not very far away.\n\nYou hear the taps of high, pointed heels against the polished flooring. The crowd then gives way, revealing the woman—Erin Wilke.\n\nA smirk seems ever present on her face as she advances towards you. You know she has a gun under that pristine blazer. Days of observing her and her group taught you that much, at least. You brace yourself, but James steps in front of you, his wide stature hulking over the smaller woman. The footsteps stop. You peer from the side. You saw that Erin Wilke is not intimidated in the least.\n\n“Oh, step aside,” she scoffs at James, a hand on her hip. “I have no interest in hired goons like you.” Her eyes snaps to yours, and you feel a shiver run up your spine. “But I know who you are. You're that journalist who covers stories on anti-ectogenesis movements. Remove your bodyguard from my sight. I want to look at your face before I shoot the both of you.”\n\nLike a stubborn bull, James plants his feet firmer than before. You can see his fingers itching to strike at a moment's notice. Your first thought is that James is crazy—the woman has a gun. Or does he have a plan? Could you perhaps distract the woman, and James could... do whatever? You're not sure, you weren't even sure about infiltrating the depths of this crazy cult in the first place. But you are here now, and—\n\n“I'm waiting, Williams.”\n\nYou jump at the mention of your real surname. The woman notices this, and her smile only grows wider.\n\n“Your high ranking officers are just as corrupt as your notions of breeding, Williams.”\n\nYou know are cornered at this point. You might be able to turn tail and run, with James shielding your back, but you could never pull off such a thing. You can't leave James behind. You won't.\n\nSo you place a hand on James's back. James turns his head to look over his shoulder. You nod at him. He nods back. His hands brushes under yours and steps back. You try to keep your chest forward. Despite the chill on your back, your palms are damp with sweat.\n\nErin Wilke looks at you, running her eyes from your shoes to your face. Her resulting expression is none too impressed.\n\n“I expected someone more... intelligent-looking,” she says with a spiteful grin.\n\nYou quip back at her in your head, though your lips remain sealed. You want to turn your head around and look at James. You want to see that swift nod that would tell you everything has been taken care of. However you can't turn your head, because having the silver barrel of a gun pointing at your head certainly makes it terrifying to move any part of the body, let alone your neck.\n\n“I want everybody to see what we do to spies. Let it be known that we will not tolerate anyone who supports those Ectogenesist's unnatural ways,” Erin Wilke announces to the crowd with her stentorian voice. Her arm straightens. \n\n“W-Wait!” your shaky voice somehow permeates through. The woman merely gives you a quizzical look. You gulp, trying to steady your hands.\n\n“Y-You—Your niece!” You shout, slowly moving a foot back. “You have a niece, Erin! And she's in that center! If you blow it up—” The barrel touches your forehead. You squeak. Erin Wilke scowls at you.\n\n“I suggest you keep your filthy lies—”\n\n“I-It's not a lie! Your sister, Susan Wilke—She has a child there! You can't murder your own niece, Erin!”\n\nYou see the cold look falter on the older woman's face. Your head is relieved of the pressure from the cold barrel—but only slightly. The fact that you have a gun pointing at your head did not change.\n\nYou feel a light tap at the back of your shoe. James. You feel lighter, relieved. James did it. \n\nThen you hear a yell. A man points at your companion.\n\n“He's holding something behind him!”\n\nYour first instinct is to turn around to look at James, but a large hand pushes you aside. You hear a loud bang. Something stabs into your right arm. As your back crashes towards the hard floor, you feel a breeze pass by you. Only when you hit the floor do you realize what had happened, as the pain shot up from your right shoulder to the rest of your right arm like an electric current. You scream, perhaps, you're not too sure. You know it hurts, though. It hurts like hell.\n\nThen the sounds of glass being broken pierced through the haze of your thoughts, the sounds of fragile material breaking against the solid surfaces. Heavy boots trample around the room. There are shouts, loud voices. A pair of arms grabs you and brings you to a sitting position. You feel the vague sensation of a prick in your skin. Suddenly, within seconds, the pain begins to fade. You feel light-headed, but slowly you become aware of the happenings around you.\n\nEveryone else in the hall are on their knees, hands behind their heads. You see two agents leading Erin Wilke away. The woman keeps shouting and screeching.\n\n“You are all ignorant fools! You choose to not see the defects your abnormal breeding has caused, and future generations will be ruined by your hubris! Mankind will die out! Mark my words, you will fall by your own doing! You—”\n\nOne of the agents smacked the back of her head. “Move your feet, Wilke. Not your tongue.”\n\nYou see a man in a dark, combat uniform kneel next to you. He gently moves your hand away from your right arm, and you let him.\n\n“Can you tell me your name?” the man asks. Accustomed to being referred by it, you tell him your last name.\n\n“Wi... Williams.”\n\n“Williams. You're safe now. We're taking you back to Vanacoy. Do you understand?”\n\n“Yeah, yeah... I ain'ta kid...” You mutter, feeling tired and irritated. Your retort goes unnoticed as the man gets up. You feel yourself lifted from the ground as well, and the dizziness feels worse.\n\n“Take the journalist to the chopper, James,” the man says. “And you get yourself checked out too. You look like shit that's passed through hell and back.”\n\nThen you hear a grunt. You look up. It's James. His face looks swollen and bruised.\n\n“Th' hell happened t'you?” you ask with a weak smirk.\n\nThe familiar sounds of helicopter blades slicing the air fills your ears. You turn your head to look at the chopper. You remember always wanting to get on one as a kid... Well, here you are now, one way or another.\n\n“... Erin Wilke packs a punch.”\n\nYou laugh, though it came out sounding rather unenthusiastic. You feel yourself being set down on a surface. You can see the old stadium leaving your sight as the chopper lifts from the ground. Another man in the chopper rolls up the sleeve of your right arm. You don't want to look. You can smell the metallic liquid. You don't want to know how much of it was there. Let the medic do whatever he needs to do. You keep your head turned away, staring at the navy, starless sky.\n\nYou try to enjoy the serene peacefulness, but Erin Wilke's words earlier continues to hound your mind. Her words were not news to you—You have heard them many times. You have heard the arguments against ectogenesis so many times... and yet, it was because you have heard them so many times that you could not get them out of your head so easily.\n\nIt bothers you.\n\nWhat if you are on the wrong side?\n\nWhat if ectogenesis did kill more babies than... this concept of 'natural birth'?\n\n“Williams,” you hear your name, snapping you out of your thoughts.\n\n“Yah?”\n\n“I broke your pager.”\n\nA large hand opens in front of you, revealing the crushed remains of a device you might have once called your close friend.\n\n“Damn it, James.”\n\n“... Sorry.”", "It was well known what was going to be the main focus of the G8 summit this year. As the eight most powerful countries met, news reporters and protestors swarmed around the White House waiting for answers. All of the reporters echoed the same sentiment: The world is decline. \n\n“Those 65 and older now out number the youngest three generations ten to one. Social security is dry. Medicaid and Medicare have been shut down in an attempt to keep the government from bankruptcy,” Said one reporter into a camera lens. “Can President Cho and the other seven leaders find a way to fix our decaying world?” \n\nInside the white citadel the powerful sat uncomfortably. Canada’s Prime Minister spoke; “When the Artificial Womb was invented in 2019 it was a miracle. Women did no longer need to go through dangerous pregnancies. Premature births were no longer an issue. Mothers did not die of complications, and with this science neither did the child. It’s been 55 years and now 70% of the world's population use AWs.”\n\t“What is your point?” France asked. \n\t“That we didn’t expect the repercussions.”\n\t“And what are those?” Asked Cho.\n\t“Is my country the only one who has noticed the correlation? The only ones to be reproducing are the ones who were born naturally. Those born from an Artificial Womb are not craving human touch as do their natural counterparts. Beginning existence in a clear plastic dome has made the latest generations numb. These human hives are dooming us.\" He paused and collected himself before continuing. \"It appears the bonding that is created from growing inside a living, breathing person, is what hardwires us to seek out physicality.”\n\n“That is preposterous,” Britain said with a dry laugh as she fixed her cuff. “I had four children with AWs and they are all healthy and normal.”\n\n“Do you have grandchildren?” \n\n“No, not yet.”\n\n“Surely they are old enough,” Canada continued. “Your youngest is what, 30? Are any of them married, even dating?”\n\nBritain’s silence was answer enough. Canada motioned to his assistant who started to hand out thick packets. “Here are our findings. Read it over lunch. During this afternoon’s press conference I will officially be banning Artificial Wombs in my country, and making these finding public. I will urge you to do the same. If we don’t go back to natural births, we will see the death of our society.” \n", "\"I am a man of science. You will be a man of science, my son. As will your son after you. This is the way of our people.\" Father said as he led me through the birthing chambers.\nI had turned 16 a few days ago, and was about to enter the Central Academy. Father woke me up early, before dawn, to take me here. The birthing chambers were closed off to the general public, but father had the access and the power to allow for such a visit.\n\nAs we walked, father began telling me about how the birthing chambers came to be. How they ensured the stability and prosperity of our people. Facts I knew already from my school lessons, facts everyone knew. Yet I could detect the slightest bit of bitterness in his voice.\n\n\"Jor, when we received you, your mother and I knew you were destined for... I know you will become a great man of science. But you will yearn for more. I know it.\" His voice grew unsteady, and he chose not to continue; we walked in silence for a few minutes.\n\nWe passed another father-son pair. Our fathers nodded at each other. I recognized them. The father was a war hero and a celebrated general. The son, who had also just turned 16, was a classmate of mine. His name was Zod." ]	3
	[WP] You're at a bar, and start a conversation with the person next to you. You learn he hunts mythic creatures, and you are next on his list.	[ "All I wanted was a drink. Is that really to much to ask ??? Really ?? I am the last of my race. The mythical Human... but please just call me Ric. I don't know why I survived when all the other humans died out from that virus, we still don't know what it was, or why it gave me an extended life span. But here we are. Why do I keep putting myself in these situations. You would think after everything I have been through I would just shut my mouth and keep my head down. But not this human ohhh no. I have to go tell the guy sitting at the table next to me in a bold loud voice \"Do you know who I am??? Im the last human, that's right its just me no one else\". Ok admittedly I was a little smashed, well a lot smashed. I knew I fucked up (an earth term for making a bad bad mistake) from the way he looked me up and down. Then a wry smile broke up from the corner of his (well I think they were anyway you never know with aliens) lips. He looked me dead in the eyes and said \" Do you know who I am ??? I hunt down mythic creatures, things that people don't think exist, the last of their kind. Just Like You. Ill be fair and give you a 2 minute head start. Run\". So here I am running on an alien world, through alien field, with no idea where I am going. All I know is if I stop then humanity is over but if I keep running he will eventually catch up. Rock meet hard place. ", "The man stood out like a priest in a bar. In a way, I suppose he was akin to a priest. He needed not tell me that he was a hunter of some sorts. I could tell by smell alone that he was by no means new to his occupation. No, the lingering scent of blood, brimstone, and death clung to him - and always would no matter how many times he bathed.\n\nI am sure that he knew -or perhaps suspected- what I was as soon as his beady eyes rested on me. When he decided that he should make his way to my cliched shadowed table in the corner, I knew that I was going to have fun. \n\n\"Hello there,\" He smiled, \"May I join you?\"\n\nI nodded and gestured to the cracked leather booth in front of me. \n\n\"I hope you don't think I'm intruding. I just didn't think that a young woman such as yourself should be sitting alone in a place like this.\" \n\nHow cute. He pretended to be concerned for my safety while he thumbed the little cross in his coat pocket. \n\n\"I can take care of myself,\" I chuckled.\n\n\"Sure, looks can be deceiving, right?\" He cheerfully smiled, \"Either way, I'm sure you'd prefer back up should something downright nasty show up in this bar.\"\n\n\"Expecting trouble?\" I feigned concern.\n\n\"You tell me.\" He grew more serious.\n\nLight seemed to dance in his eyes. Ah, so he had finally figured out what I was. This was what I was waiting for; realization, determination, the need to confront an enemy. \n\n\"I take it, you're here about the little bitch that had to be exorcised?\" I smirked, \"Or perhaps it's a little more personal than that? Ah, yes. I think I remember you now. Although you were quite a bit younger then. A mere boy, yes?\"\n\n\"You bastard-\"\n\n\"Bitch.\" I corrected.\n\n\"-I will send you back to the darkest smoldering pit of hell from whence you came.\"\n\nA little silver cross soon dangled inches from my face. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the cross and his hand, and let my human guise falter slightly. I ignored the burning scent of flesh and the prickling pain from where the cross sunk into my hand. \n\nFear sparkled in his eyes. He tried to speak, but found that his voice just couldn't quite make it past his vocal chords. I only tightened my grip as he tried to wriggle his hand from mine.\n\nMy free hand caught his fist. Pinning his hands to the table, I leaned forward until my face was inches from his.\n\n\"You know I had taken the guise of little old man? She was so kind to me, humming a little song while she tended to my wounds. Too bad your mommy nurse couldn't patch up the bitter blood that ran through my veins. I couldn't resist easing inside of her and taking control of her from the inside. Oh the things we DID together.\" \n\nA small whimper escaped his throat. I cackled - my voice no longer human but multi-toned and guttural. \n\n\"Oh yes, did I tell you, little Tommy? Did I tell you what I made mommy do? Those weren't groans of pain coming from her room when the priest came by.\"\n\nI could feel him struggle pitifully against my grip. If only he could get to his little bag of magic tricks, he might have a chance against me. \n\n\"Do you know what I did? I broke the priest's neck and then I made-\"\n\nA blinding light hit my chest with a thud and I found myself sticking precariously through the wall. Humans. They will destroy half a city in an attempt to banish one demon. \n\nI blinked several times and retreated into the shadows. I surveyed the bar and found that several of my minions -bartender included- had been destroyed by the blast. \n\n\"Show yourself, demon!\" A voice shouted.\n\n\"Oh, if it isn't the little hunter's backup. Finally. I was wondering if the little whelp had better sense than to come alone.\" I scoffed.\n\n\"In the name of-\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. You want me to make myself visible. I really would, but unfortunately I'm late for a very important meeting. I have a soul to claim.\"\n\nAs the priest made his demands, I slipped away. There was no need to fight when the little hunter had backup. No, I would let my minions keep track of both the hunter and his help so that I could deal with them later. Separately.\n\nThis little game was far from over and I was looking forward to the next time I got to play.", "The music pounding over the dimly-lit room drowned out all of Kali’s senses, overwhelming her with a strange sense of dizziness and sleepiness—or maybe that was the drink Eva ordered her. She hadn’t even heard what it was called, but the aftertaste hung over her tongue like sour milk. She leaned to her right, shouting into Eva’s ear in a struggle to be heard above the chaos.\n\n“I don’t think this was a good idea—maybe a bar farther from campus will be less crazy.”\n\nEva waved her hand dismissively, eyeing one of the bartenders and shouting back. “What? This is great!” Her drink sloshed out of its cup and splashed onto Kali’s shirt, leaking down in between her boobs and making her feel even more uncomfortable and sticky than she already was in the 90 degree heat.\n\n“I think you’re too drunk to make that assessment!”\n\nSomeone tapped on Kali’s shoulder from her left. Still tugging on her shirt in an effort to air it out, she spun around with an exaggerated eye-roll ready to dismiss whichever drunken frat boy was responsible, but immediately dropped the act when she laid eyes on the surprisingly handsome gentleman before her. He looked older—maybe a grad student. A hint of stubble lined his jaw—just enough to give him that rugged look without crossing the line into unkempt. He raised his eyebrows and waved something in front of her. “Hey! Hello? I thought you could use this!”\n\nKali ripped her eyes away from his face, reddening in embarrassment, to glance down at the object in his hand—a cloth napkin from one of the tables around the edge of the room. “Oh, thanks,” she said, but the latest pop hits over-powered her words of gratitude. She dabbed the napkin on her shirt, hoping the mysterious blue beverage wouldn’t leave a stain.\n\n“—Kali, right?” \n\nKali’s eyes shot up when she realized the man was still talking to her. “What? How did you know my name?” She leaned toward him so her voice could be heard. She couldn't remember any leather jacket-clad cowboy types in any of her classes. She caught a whiff of his scent—ever since she began hanging out with Eva’s group her sense of smell had gotten so much keener—and her nostrils filled with the odor of cigarette smoke and something stronger… more pungent… gunpowder?\n\nHe reached over and brushed his hand across her leg, leaning in. Something about his movements seemed less sexual and more... predatory. The hairs on the back of Kali's neck stood on end. “I said you’re the Lyrebird. Kali, right?” Everything in Kali’s body froze as her mind raced in circles. Why would he know that? Unless…\n\nHis eyes flashed gold.\n\nKali's heart leapt to her throat. She lurched backwards, swatting the man’s hand off of her. “Eva, we’re leaving now!” She clawed at her friend’s arm and dragged her off her stool against clumsy protests. The music suddenly seemed louder than it had ever been. Eva stumbled behind her toward the door. Kali shot her eyes backwards only once, to see the man reaching for something under his leather jacket. His face wrinkled in confusion when their silhouettes vanished before his eyes. She didn't look back again.\n", "My name is JJ Teraforma. I'm from Seattle, and am visiting this town. Right now I'm at a bar. The person next to me says, \"Hello. My name is Flaming Tranquilizer. I hunt monsters.\" I notice that he is a robot. I guess he was on a hunt and came here to have a shot. \"I'm hunting a Toroidal Dissimulator of ZAZZ,\" he says. Shit. A Toroidal Dissimulator of ZAZZ is a werebadger who's secretly addicted to doughnuts. \"The monster's name is JJ Teraforma.\" Oh no. I've been discovered. But he doesn't know that I'm JJ. Plus, he only has the power to arrest me, since I'm not a dangerous monster. I better avoid this dude from now on.", " The bar was recommended to us by an old Asian woman with a pirate eye-patch and a heavy looking gold cane. She was smoking a cigar in front of the giant Christmas tree outside of The Fourth's Saloon, blowing smoke into the air to be lit by the giant multicolored lights that hung from the branches. \n“Hi” I nodded as Margery and I passed. \n\nThe butt of her cane launched out in front of us, shaking the concrete with a force that suggested its weight. \n\n“Can we help you?” Margery asked, tip toeing behind me so that her eyes just cleared my shoulder. \n\n “You're not supposed to be smoking here, either.” she went flat footed for a few moments, hiding behind me, then back on her toes when she heard the woman shuffle in front of me. \n\nThe old woman lifted her eye patch, squinted her two, fully functioning eyes, and coughed a few puffs of smoke before taking another drag.\n\n“Okay, have a nice night, now.” I said, nodding slowly. \n\nWe were a few steps past her, Margery tugging at my jacket to let her get in front, when the old woman called at us. \n\n“The what” I said, not stopping to look back. \n\n“The red dog” Margery replied. \n\n“Red dog” the old woman called. \n\n“The red dog” Margery replied in recognition. \n\n“What's the red dog”\n\n“The what?”\n\n“God dammit, Margery, the red dog”\n\n“Don't yell at me, I haven't seen any red fucking dogs.” \n\nThree blocks down we saw Linda and Janeen standing under a red neon dog sign. The sign sat over the entrance to an alleyway lit by red Christmas lights. \n\n“I thought we were meeting at Jennings Pub?” I asked as we got closer. \n\n“Margery just called us and told us to meet at The Red Dog” Janeen replied, “We could hear you in the background.” \n\n“Are you fucking with me right now?” I asked, looking towards Margery, who had her best poker face on. At least thats what I thought. \n\n“Um? You're the one who had me call them, dummy.” \n\n“Oh god, okay, but we're going to Jenning's after,” I pinched my thumb and pointer finger together as I said Jennings, to hit the point home, “To Jenning's.” \n\nI glanced to Linda before she began down the alleyway, “you're a good chooser” she said, “I've never heard of this place.” \n\n“Ya, cool your shit” said Janeen, following Linda into the alleyway.\n\nThe bar was half full, the rest of the space was filled with a spiced smoke that rolled from the two dozen hookahs, each sitting in the middle of assortments of different sized pillows. Both the hookahs and pillows were of different shades of red. The ceiling and walls were covered in ornately designed cloth and rugs. And bar was lit by lanterns whose many holes cast swaying patterns of light. \n\nWe took our seats and I let the girls order for me, as the menus were in what seemed to be Arabic. \n\n“You guys speak Arabic?” I asked, when the waitress had gone. \n\n“Fine choices, everyone” said a heavy set man in a well made santa clause costume. He sat near the hookah next to us. He was also drunk, I could tell by the way he fell over after trying to get to his feet. He then waved off help when no one was offering it. \n\n“Santa clause, give me your hat” said Linda, “Janeen, take a picture of me with his hat.” We hadn't had our first round and Linda was slurring. \n\n“Janeen” called Linda, who was already posing with Santa's hat. \n\nJaneen was staring at the bar, mumbling as if she'd been waiting an hour for her drinks. \n\n“Janeen”\n\n“Did they come straight from work” I asked Margery, “I swear it seems like-” Margery leaned into me, then began tapping at a stream of light that was cast across my leg. A column of spit ran down her chin and connected itself to my forearm. \n\n“My my” Santa called, sitting directly across from me. \n\n“You are definitely on my list, young man.”\n\n“I'm like 30” I responded under my breath, still looking at Margery. \n\nSanta took out an ipad that had been hiding somewhere between his breasts and began swiping at the face. \n\n“Yes, here you are. You've been a bad boy, haven't you?” \n\nI looked over to where Santa had been sitting and saw the old asian woman, who smiled and waved her cigar. \n\n“Oh fuck off. I'm going to Jennings” ", "My head rang from the chatter around me as the bar began to fill further with the night crowd. I rubbed the coarse fuzz on my head, the hiss as my hands passed over each hair on my head becoming a mind-numbing scream. My migraine was becoming a solar flare, accentuated by waves of torment as each fool shouted in greeting to every stranger, now friend, as they entered the bar. Someone bumped into me as they tried to shove between me and the fellow to my right, desperate for another drink. I glared at him, my eyes catching the tacky cross tattooed on his neck as he shouted 'Sorry!' into my ear, making my eyes pulse painfully in my skull.\n\nMy head felt like someone had dropped a vase fool of ball bearings into my skull and let them ring about in the middle of a lightning storm. I was to the point where I no longer cared that that last thought had made absolutely no sense. Only worsening the situation was the surge of warm saliva flooding over my tongue and cheeks. As I turned in aggravation, quickly covering my mouth to stem the flow of spit, I caught a familiar odor, something hot, warm, enchanting, seemingly coming off this new bar-goer. Before I could inquire further, I caught a sharp glare from the individual beside me as his gaze fell upon the intruder. After a surprised double-take, the stranger rethought his decision and moved further down the bar, casting a wary glance our way every few seconds. I nodded in thanks to the man before waving the bartender for another drink. \n\n\"The gall of some people, you know?\" He muttered, two chips of ice staring out at me from an otherwise friendly face. I nodded again, hoping this conversation wouldn't carry on further. I cast a glance over to the stranger, now chatting up some bubbly young girl, most likely half the man's age. The odor was drifting across the bar and I couldn't help but continue to salivate. What the fuck, I thought. Why does he smell like that? The man chattered away about some inane bullshit I could care less about, but as he stared into my unattentive face I found myself turning to him, and asking, \"What?\"\n\n\"I said, what do you do, man?\" He asked, again apparently, rubbing the side of his neck. I hoped this guy wasn't hitting on me or something. I really just wanted to lay low, get rid of the damn migraine but that stupid idiot down the bar made it spike up so horribly with his damn smell. Why so fucking strong with some random stranger at a bar? I looked back to the fellow beside me, leaning in, his head perched on his hand as his elbow rested against the bar top. My head throbbed with a mixture of anticipation and annoyance as I guessed his intentions, albeit a bit homophobic.\n\n\"Listen, man, I'm not gay or anything, maybe you should, you know, look elsewhere.\" I gulped, clearly uncomfortable as sweat began to bead on my brow. \"Not that I'm not flattered or something, you know, just, I'm just... I'm uh, j-just not. Sorry.\" The man smiled a feline smile, his eyes expressing even more interest than before, some kind of sick hunger. When I was done figuring out the deal with the random down the bar, I'd figure out this guy's deal, too. It became easier calling it that. 'Figuring out someone's deal.' \n\n\"I see, man. It's cool, keeping stuff on the DL, I get it.\" He kept chattering as the man down the bar succeeded in his attempt to coax the girl from her stool and away with him towards the door. He was leaving and I hadn't learned anything. The stranger beside me just kept talking, \"Me? I do a bit of hunting and what not, but you know, special stuff just like...\" I wavered in and out of hearing whatever it was he blabbed on about. \"But you probably wouldn't even believe it, guy, you wouldn't uh, really get it.\" Whatever, like I cared. I spun in the seat as the man and his date weaved through the crowd, making for the door. \"Are you even listening to me, guy? Cuz this stuff is gonna be, well like, you're gonna wish you paid attention, man, you know?\"\n\nI slapped a twenty dollar bill on the bar, mumbled an apathetic, yet hostile enough \"Fuck off\" to the talking stranger and stumbled through the crowd as every raised voice set a deep pounding behind my eyeballs. I reached the door and watched as the man and his date stumbled through an alley across the street, clearly no longer interested in making it home. One of them drunk, one of them eager; they clawed at each other's bodies, too entangled for me to differentiate who was eager and who was drunk as they kissed, bit, and groped every part of each other, whether it be a genital or a random body part. Even from here I could just pick up traces of the lingering scent off the man. I staggered across the street, his stench setting my sense on fire, my head a roiling ocean of electricity, my back and chest drenched in sweat, my mouth overflowing with warm saliva. \n\nAs I reached the entrance to the alley I studied the pair for a while as they went on, unaware of my presence. The raw odor was smoking off the man as his blood boiled in his veins at every touch and kiss. The girl had a bit of it, too, but not like this guy. His blood was burning, he was a walking sack of sweet, delicious blood, this one stranger so incredibly enticing it just made no sense. She noticed me then, the perky, young girl enjoying or pretending to be enjoying as he licked her neck. She looked up and saw me, standing there, so hungry, so thirsty, so all of it, so all of everything in me. My head was a pressure point turned inside out, tremors shaking my limbs like twisted branches on a dead tree, my skin beginning to crack like bark. \n\nMy hands split apart, the skin ripping like paper down my arms as they lengthened from their sockets, becoming three long fingers on each newly enhanced arm with wicked, sharp claws, five inches long, two on each finger. My legs let out loud, snapping noises as they shifted and changed, the joints bending in different directions. My neck let out wet pops as the vertebrae in my neck twisted and grew. My bottom jaw split in two, flat, white squares that used to be teeth popping out of place as thin white needles grew to replace them. Long, curved fangs grew, two on my top jaw and two on the bottom and as my eyes inflated and bulged from my head into two fleshy red masses in their wet pits, the girl let out a long, low scream that quickly picked up into a ear-piercing shriek, a sentiment the stranger did not echo.\n\n--End of Part 1--\n\n", "The road was long and had wearied me. My tongue was dry and my stomach was empty. A sign on the side of the road read \"Brasov.\" I can't read or speak anything but English, but I assumed it was a town name. My assumption was thankfully correct. The town was fairly large. Perhaps 25,000 inhabitants. In this part of Europe there had to be a bar or an inn where I could get a stout drink and a square meal. And with a town this large there had to be at least one decent one. \n\nI saw a sign that read tavernă călător. I did not know what a călător was but I could discern that it was an establishment that sold beer. The laughter was loud which is always a good sign. Having traveled many places and many miles, I feel myself qualified to say a bar without laughter will serve both dreadful food and mood. My tongue told my feet to move and I propelled myself into the tavernă călător.\n\nThe flames from a fireplace that the belly of a leviathan would not hold provided both warmth and a quaint amber hue. The scent of roasting meat, herbs, garlic, and paprika rumbled my stomach. Despite a massive clientele of loafers and diners, and my inability to speak one word of the native tongue, I procured a platter of foods I could not pronounce; my appetite failed to care. The food was digested as rapidly as I could wash it down my throat with tankards of beer. \n\nMy appearance in the tavernă călător had been all but ignored. Usually, many eyes would affix themselves to me whenever I entered a strange location. I was used to being an outsider. The tavernă călător was apparently used to outsiders as well. The patronage just didn't care. Perhaps the influence of the beer I mused. \n\nAn elderly person caught my eye. His hat stood out. It was brood brimmed and black, giving him the appearance of a priest, yet he wore no clerical collar. His garb was utilitarian. Home-spun wool with simple buttons. In solitude, he occupied a corner, gazing at the flames. The beer in front of him was half-full yet he looked to have been at the tavernă călător for more than an hour.\n\nAs I stared at the enigmatic individual, he glanced up and looked straight into my eyes. Not wishing to offend, I acknowledged him and raised my tankard. He raised the half-empty beer and took a well-sized gulp. He gestured me over, indicating that there was an empty seat if I wished to take it. I was a lone traveler and no chain had me attached to the bar table I was seated at. I accepted his silent invitation and prepared for a conversation of sign language and half-recognized English words.\n\nAs I took my seat I pointed to myself and smiled, saying \"Thomas Dorman.\"\n\n\"I am happy to meet you, Mr. Dorman. I am Abraham Popescu. Please, make yourself comfortable.\"\n\n\"Gladly. I have not seen another man who speaks English in some time. Forgive me for the patronizing introduction.\"\n\n\"Think nothing of it\" Abraham said. \"I understand your situation all to well. For many years I have traveled. I am all too happy that my business finally brings me back to my home country.\"\n\nAbraham's hat was still drawing my eyes and he noticed. \"I notice Mr. Dorman that my hat is something of a curiosity to you?\" I said that it indeed was. \"Well, this hat was gifted to me by a man of the cloth many years ago. I never had the temperament to study at seminary but the idea of being a priest still draws me. This hat reminds me that my occupation is still an important vocation.\"\n\nMy response was quick. \"I hope you are not trying to convert me to any certain creed. I am an itinerant with no bible in hand and no rosary beads. I suppose it could be said I lack the missionary spirit\"\n\n\"Certainly not\" he chuckled these words out. \"I am an itinerant myself. I have found little time for memorizing the psalms or praying rosaries. I have found myself in more hostile situations than I care to remember, and I have been chased out of many places. We share these and other things in common. I see, now that I have finally met you, that you are a good and well-meaning person.\"\n\nAbraham's English had a forced perfection to it. He failed to contract words. That was what I first noticed. Secondly, I noted he had said \"finally met you.\" The word \"finally\" struck me as odd.\n\n\"What do you mean 'finally met you,' Mr. Popescu? Surely you have not been waiting around for me to wander in the door of this tavern?\"\n\n\"That's exactly what I have been doing.\" There came over his eyes a tranquil look wholly inappropriate to what he had just said. \"I have been waiting for the entire day. Thank God you have arrived and thank God I am not too late.\"\n\nI began to stand yet my knees refused me. I was drawn in and had to hear this man out. He pulled out a small moroccan-bound notebook.\n\n\"This is your name, yes? Thomas Dorman? Make sure the spelling is correct. Do not look worried and perplexed. I shall set every detail out plainly before you. You did not inquire as to what my vocation is. I am a man who hunts the Earth for creatures of the Devil. Thank you for not laughing. Here in Transylvania my profession is valued. I have taken my talents to other geographical locations and there are those who laugh at me and those who need me. You smelled garlic when you entered? The people here know how to keep the demons of the night at bay. It does also make for delicious food.\" This he said with a small chuckle.\n\nAbraham leaned over and lifted up a leather bag and opened it. \"I am glad that I reached you before He did. I do not have to use these on you now.\" He indicated a wooden stake in the shape of a cross. \"It leaves me with something to do tonight though. There is great evil that follows you. It has not caught you yet but it will. I promise you it will. Help me to kill the evil that stalks you. This is not the land of illumination. There is darkness that surrounds us all. I offer you a chance to fight it with me and save yourself.\"\n\nI mulled it over. I beckoned Abraham Popescu closer to me and to the sound of a demon screaming, I drove one of the cruciform stakes into the heart that had long ago been sold to the devil. Being a vampire hunter is a terrible experience sometimes but it is amazing to catch your quarry. \n \n\n", "My new friend sipped his whisky while I was playing with my glass. What I wanted to do was down it and ask the bartender for another one. \n\n\"Pegasus, you say.\" \n\nAnd he seemed so nice and amiable. \n\nHe nodded. \n\n\"But isn't that a horse,\" I asked gesturing to myself. I was hoping he'd see I was no horse and leave me alone. \n\n\"A magic horse,\" he replied, as if that explained anything. \n\nWe were the only ones in the bar, besides the bartender, who was a friend of mine. He knew me well. \n\n\"Ganymede,\" I said, \"another whisky for the gentleman.\"\n\nThe poor man was no mere mortal, but as I spread my wings and changed into my true form he stood no chance. \n\nAfter I finished him, I did the same both with my drink and his. \n\n\"How do you think he found out about you,\" asked Ganymede as he was preparing to clean the mess. \n\nI threw him a look. \n\n\"Way to ask that before I killed him, Gan.\"\n\nUsed to be, every 200 years or so, some enterprising mortal finds one of us, and then dies in mysterious circumstances. It became easier now, for them to find us, and harder for us to cover up our traces. \n\n------\n\n-208", "It was Friday, the hands of the clock slowly ambling towards midnight, and I was hunched over the bar as usual. My fingers drew circles in the puddled beer, spilled by some rowdy teenagers earlier in the evening, maybe two or three hours ago. Nodding to the bartender, I signaled for another drink, a simple vodka martini, extra dry.\n\nAs the cold liquid sluiced down my throat, I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. \"Excuse me, but is there anyone sitting here?\" A thin bespectacled man in a cheap suit asked nervously, gesturing to the open stool beside me. I shook my head and turned back to my drink, hoping this would be the one that brought sweet sleep to my eyes.\n\nBefore I could drink again, he asked, \"What brings you here to this dive? A beautiful girl like you belongs in a cocktail bar or a evening party.\" I turned my eyes to the stranger again and shrugged. \"Quieter here,\" I replied, my words soft but tired. \"And you?\"\n\n\"Believe it or not,\" he chuckled, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, \"I'm supposed to meet someone here.\"\n\n\"A date?\" The incredulousness in my voice must have been too obvious as he wrinkled his nose and sat up straighter. \n\n\"No, nothing of the sort. In fact, it's more of the opposite of a date. An end date, so to speak.\" A small tilt of his head downwards led my eyes to the inside of his jacket, where a gleaming metal spike lay concealed. \n\nI snorted, brushing my long sandy hair out of my eyes before rolling them. \"Oh, a vampire hunter. Costume Nights are Thursdays, pal. Today's nothing special.\"\n\n\"But you don't understand,\" he interjected, placing his damp hand on mine. I immediately pulled away, casually wiping my hand off on a napkin. \"Not just vampires. Any creature, fair or foul, that should not exist. The vampire, the werewolf, the ghost, the ghoul, the zombie...\" His eyes shown with barely concealed glee as he gripped the silver weapon, still tucked tightly in his belt. \"They call me... The Slayer.\"\n\n\"Oh, Mr. Slayer, how very... interesting.\" I began to turn away, my mouth drier than the Sahara as I reached for my drink. \"And are you searching for the Loch Ness Monster here? Perhaps I could direct you to the nearest lake.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" he smiled and reached for my hand again. \"You'd be surprised where we find them. Today's creature is a lesser known fable, though some say that it is far more powerful than any common monster of the night.\" He shoved his glasses up as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an aged diary, and opened it. \n\nThe crumbled yellow pages showed a humanoid creature looming over a sleeping child, its hands dripping with dust. A neat cursive scrawl beneath the illustration read 'The Sandman - Lord of Dreams' as well as a long list of notes describing its ability to shapeshift and cause confusion and amnesia in his targets.\n\nI couldn't help myself. I laughed right in his face. \"The Sandman? Really? Of all the possible fairy tale creatures you choose to hunt, you choose the one that can make you forget that you're chasing him? How do you know that you haven't found him already - and he's just shaken you off?\"\n\n\"W-Well,\" the man stammered, \"I don't think I've forgotten anything. The mermaids weren't a problem, neither were the centaurs, though I had some trouble with the pixies.\" I shook my head and leaned in towards him. \n\n\"I'll let you in on a little secret, Mr. Slayer. You've been here before. How's the daughter, by the way? She's really grown up to be a beautiful girl. We've had this little conversation every single time you've shown up. Do you really want to do this again?\" My teeth gleamed as I rubbed my fingers in his face, faint trickles of golden sand swirling around my fingertips.\n\nHis brow furrowed. \"My daughter? You... you know about her? What else do you know? How long has this been going-\" A thud. He hit the ground, snoring surprisingly loudly for a man his size. I took his diary, tearing out the page with his precious collected information on it and pocketing it. \n\n\"Sweet dreams, Mr. Slayer. I believe the score is one hundred and thirty two to zero, my favor.\" A snap of my fingers and everyone in the room suddenly struggled to recall the events of the past thirty minutes. Another snap and I dissolved into a cloud of sand.\n\n-\n\nTimothy Sellers woke up at 7 AM the next morning, in his own bed. He sat up, stretched, and yawned deeply. That was some of the best sleep he had ever had. Padding downstairs to the kitchen, he kissed his wife on the cheek. \"Morning, Morpheia. What's for breakfast?\"\n\nAN: Wow, my first post here on WP. I hope I did okay. ;__; Criticism and comments always welcome.\n" ]	9
	[WP] You are a complete dumbass in the zombie apocalypse. You survive any situation on sheer dumb luck, and end up getting everybody else killed in the process.	[ "Kevin was a man who wasn't exactly a leader, but not a coward. Rather, he had a kind of \"hold my beer\" type of courage, and in the zombie apocalypse, that is a dangerous type of courage to have indeed. \n\n\"Damn it Kevin, you don't need a piggy bank. What are you, Five?\" Sawyer Spouted at Kevin. John and Mark, the other Two in the group, sighed and looked on at Kevin.\n\n\"No...It's a storage container. Where else am I gonna put my spare change?\"\n\nThe other Three just stared at Kevin in an awkward silence. Sawyer spoke up.\n\n\"Kevin...Just...Fine.\"\n\nSawyer turned to the shelves behind him and scoured them for anything worth keeping. The group found themselves looting a hardware store for weapons and things to fortify their community to the North.\n\nJack leaned over to search some of the lower shelves in the back of the store. He shifted through junk not worth keeping and found himself holding a coil of wire. He looked the package over, and decided to keep it. It might come in handy for something. \n\nJohn angled a flashlight toward the corners of the shop and searched them. He disturbed dust that hadn't moved for a long, long time. His eyes passed over cracked glass and empty shelves. Finally, he turned around to look at the entrance of the shop and found Kevin holding an air horn.\n\n\"Kevin, no. Put it down.\" John had raised his hands and lowered them slightly, signaling for Kevin to drop it. Jack and Sawyer had turned around as well and watched Kevin.\n\n\"But, this air horn reminds me of something.\"\n\n\"Kevin, it doesn't matter. Air horns are loud. You do know that zombies are attracted to noise, right?\"\n\nJohn watched Kevin's mind process the question. \n\n\"They are?\"\n\nJohn took a deep breath and started to count to Ten. Sawyer and Jack had nothing to say.\n\n\"Just...put it down Kevin.\" John's patience was running out. \n\n\"Fine. I will.\"\n\nKevin turned to some shelves behind him and slid the air horn into it's place.\n\n\"But I've never heard an air horn in real life. Only on TV and stuff.\"\n\nJohn turned back around.\n\n\"Kevin, trust me. Don't.\"\n\nKevin kept direct eye contact with John as Kevin's fat hands grasped the air horn and raised it into the air. Sawyer and Mark watched with their jaws hanging open, powerless to stop the raw power of idiocy.\n\nKevin set off the horn, and as quickly as it had wailed it's horrid air horn noise, it had stopped. Kevin shouted in surprise and let go of the metal cylinder. It hit the floor and everyone watched Kevin, whose eyes were now wide.\n\nMinutes had passed as Kevin was trying to cook up an excuse. A decaying hand slammed into the glass door of the shop, then another, and another, and another. Zombies shambled to the door, the dinner bell having been rung. Soon, the sound of rotting flesh colliding into glass was the only sound that could be heard. \n\nThe group readied their guns and took aim. As the zombies pushed through their glass barricade, the noises of angry men cursing their fellow comrade for his sheer stupidity joined the noises of the undead as the horde shambled to the nearest man, Sawyer, whose last words cursed Kevin. \n\nKevin dropped his gun as cowardice overtook him, and he ran to the back room and locked himself inside. He listened to the sound of gunshots and the sounds of screaming. When the screaming died out, Kevin could only hear the undead moaning as they feasted.\n\nKevin waited in the back storage room until he could wait no more, when the moaning had subsided and the last zombie shambled outside the shop. \n\nKevin opened the door slowly, poking his head out to make sure it was all clear. He passed the remains of John, Mark, and Sawyer as he picked up his air horn and stuffed it into a plastic bag. As Kevin left, he picked up Sawyer's duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.\n\nKevin begun his journey back home. \n", "\nI hum merrily as I stroll about the shelter with the first aid kit. Because the shelter was an old church, I liked to call it the Chelter. I was beginning to like this new survival group; they seemed more friendly and fun than the last group. There were three girls in the group: Linda, Lizzie, and me. There were four boys in the group: Tom, Dalton, Aaron, and Payton. I always mix up Dalton and Payton although I don’t know why; Payton is really tall with blonde hair and Dalton is short and kind of stocky with black hair. \n\nI continue to hum my melody; I know that we’re supposed to be quiet but it made me feel safer and more at home. I hope no one notices that I left; I liked them all but I preferred to be a lone wolf sometimes. I think I hear someone calling for me so I quicker walk through the center aisle of the Chelter and turn on the lights. It was just too eerie to be wandering through a dark church; there might be ghosts around. I hear the wind blowing outside and think of the zombies. I know that Linda says that they’re completely brain dead but I still hope that they’re not cold. I wander up the ladder to the old church bell with a smile. This was my favorite secret hobby, I ring the bell four times pretending I’m Quasimodo; when everyday was so sad, I felt that it was important to have fun. I decide to leave the first aid kit near the bell for safe keeping; if a zombie got his hands on it and started to heal his wounds, he would be unstoppable. \n\nI head back to the group room and take a quick headcount: 5 people including myself. I count again worriedly and get 6. \n\nI walk up to Tom, “What happened?” I ask as he buries his face in his hands.\n\nHe looks at me sadly, “Lizzie got bitten outside and we couldn’t find the first aid kit in time. We had to lock her out.”\n\nI scream, “But it’s so cold! She’ll freeze!” \n\nHe looks up at me and spouts back, “She’s already brain dead! She’s bitten!” \n\nI begin to cry and grab her sweater that is still in the corner. Lizzie was such a sweet girl; she was the best chef out of any of us and made Campbell’s chicken noodle soup into a five star dining experience. In a few minutes, Linda runs in frantically.\n\n“The zombies are surrounding the outside! They know we’re here!” she screeches. \n\n“How could they know?” I ask worriedly. \n\nWe hear a horrific banging at the door and I wonder if it’s Lizzie; maybe she survived! I run to the door and try to unhinge the lock and Aaron tackles me to the ground. I smile when I see Lizzie’s shining face at the door and I scream when I see a piece of her flesh fall to the floor. Lizzie and a few other zombies lunge at us. I smack at the zombies and accidently kick Aaron before escaping. I run into the church and deliberate going back to help when I hear screams.\n\nI hear Tom shout, “Leave me alone!” \n\nI smile at Tom’s message; it was so brave that he gave me permission to leave and protect myself. I begin to run and wait at the altar for my Cheltermates. After a few minutes, Dalton, Payton, Linda and Aaron come in and I offer them some wine that I found.\n\n“The zombies are still here!” Dalton shouts pulling me towards the tower. Linda who is leading the group now turns around abruptly.\n\n“We need the emergency kit! Where is it?!?!” she screams. \n\nI think and reply, “I think I hid it under a pew in the Chelter room.” \n\nShe runs back into the Chelter room frantically and we leave her behind. As I go up the ladder, I remember that I hid it in the bell tower and scream for Linda but the zombies are growling too loud and drown my call out. \n\nI look at Payton and Dalton and head up the ladder to the bell tower. As I climb, Dalton screams for help.\n\n“I can’t reach the ladder! Help me, they’re coming!” He shouts.\n\nI begin to descend the ladder again and then I see a zombie running towards him.\n\n“Try your tiptoes Dalton! He’s coming!” I scream rushing up the ladder. \n\nI head up quickly and take a deep breath before stepping into the tower. It was a miracle that zombies couldn’t climb! I step onto the tower and Payton helps me up. \n\n“Here, I’ll help you step onto the roof and we’ll climb down onto the area with the least zombies!” he says authoritatively.\n\nI smile and nod although I don’t appreciate his tone. I wasn’t dumb and didn’t need him to make plans for us. He helps me up onto the roof and grab his hands so he could climb up too. He sighs in indignant relief when he stands up on the roof next to me. \n\n“Huh, you helped me up, I guess you’re not such an idiot,” he says grabbing onto my hands to balance.\n\nHis words echo in my head and I feel a mixture of anger and sadness welling up.\n\nI reply, “I never was. But you are,” \n\nHe looks at me perplexed, “Excuse me?” \n\nI look at his hands and shove him with all my might. I smile remembering the betrayal of Mufasa; he had the exact same look on his face. I chuckle as I climb down off the church into a zombieless area. I run to the first boarded up house I see and pound on the door frantically. \n“I’m a human! I’m not sick! Help me!” I shout. \n\nI see a few eyes peer out at me and then a young brunette girl answers the door and hugs me. \n\n“I’m Betty, We’ll protect you!” she says cheerfully.\n\nI smile and walk past her into the big house looking at my new group of friends. They all look tired but they smile at me. I introduce myself and offer to organize the first aid kit. Betty happily obliges and I hum as I work; maybe they’ll survive a little longer. \n\n", "\"Alright Jed, we just need you to stay here while we go get supplies. You can handle that right?\"\n\"No problem.\" I replied rather enthusiastically\n\"Good, maybe this time we can come back without someone dying\"\n\nI resented their hated for me and really didn't understand why they didn't want me to go on any outing with them.\n\nI mean, the only reason that last guy got eaten was because he decided to yell at the top of his lungs about the new friend I had made. I just wanted to show them that the undead are not as mean and cruel as everyone makes them out to be. But, that guy just couldn't understand that and after he yelled about ten other zombies mobbed him and started tearing him apart. But, other peoples stupidity is not my problem. I have decided that I will secretly follow the scavenging party to cover their back and to keep them safe. \n\nI kept about 80 meters behind them, and I was very aware to keep any noise at a minimum. After only about five minutes, I see ten undead just milling about on a ledge right over the top of the search party. Knowing that this could spell doom for the entire group, I spring into action. I approach one the undead and put him into a chokehold, knowing it will suffocate quickly just like in the movies.\n However, this particular undead must of had quite the lung capacity, because it was still hollering and screaming after six seconds. This lead to the me getting charged by the other nine undead. Fortunately I tripped and fell to the left, allowing all the undead to charge off the ledge onto the ground bellow. I felt pretty lucky until I heard some very human screams from below. I knew I couldn't help them,but this didn't bother me.They had put themselves into this situation by being bellow the ledge when the undead fell. Oh we'll, I guess I can find another group somewhere that hopefully is not as dumb as the last one." ]	3
	[WP] Members of the first human interstellar space mission have not received any transmissions from earth during their last five monthly scheduled attempts. As they exit our solar system they receive a message...No video. No audio. It's a simple written message, "Help us".	[ "Dave was the last to awake that day, as per the strict schedule keeping on the New Frontier he hadn't been roused when the message had arrived. The only indication something was wrong was that nobody was entering the sleep module at the end of their shift. \n\nHe shut off the alarm and his fan and began to prep for his morning exercise. He logged his wake time into the terminal and it immediately flashed red, indicating he was needed immediately. An excited rush had pulsed through him, had earth finally responded back? It felt as though years had passed since he'd heard anything from command, maybe they had finally reestablished contact. His heart had been heavy not having any news of Julia.\n\nAs he floated to the door to open the command room he saw the entire crew still in a heated argument, their muffled voices were tinged with a sense of urgency made more evident by their wild hand gestures. It looked like Chu and Keith were pretty heated. \n\nHe ran his hand over the microchip sensor and the door slid open, turning the muffled words into shouts.\n\n\"-and we can't really even conceivably be able to return for another year anyway, so any immediate threat would only put us in a too little, too late situation.\"\n\n\"What's going on? Has earth finally checked back in?\" David asked as he entered the command module.\n\n\"Commander!\" Ashley spat out, after struggling to think of how to form her words, she finally stammered out \"We received a signal, yes, you're probably going to want to take a look.\"\n\nFor a brief second, he was afraid he would hear the news, that his wife had finally passed, but that was replaced with utter dread as he read the message on the screen, sent unencrypted and with no official wording whatsoever. Just two simple words\n\n\"Help us.\"\n\nHe read it three times before he could even form a single thought. \n\n\"When?\"\n\n\"Two hours ago.\" Replied Chu\n\nA flash of anger washed over him.\n\n\"This should have been deemed important enough to wake me lieutenant.\" He said coldly back. \n\nChu and him had not exactly been getting along since contact with Earth had been lost, their relationship mirrored the diplomatic relations between their two countries. International ventures have always come with their own set of problems.\n\n\"Regulations dictate-\" she began\n\n\"It's a distress signal from our home planet!\" Dave shouted\n\n\"Which is exactly what I've been trying to tell her this whole time.\" Keith piped in.\n\n\"We don't even know if it was meant for us.\" Chu continued. \"It's an open channel, with no actual information other than that it originates from Earth.\"\n \n\"It did come from command too.\" Ashley added, \"they're the only ones that would have been capable of broadcasting directly to our location.\" \n \n\" We've been going back and forth like this for hours commander, there's not much along the lines we haven't already heard.\" Heinrich finally added, his pale blue eyes betrayed a sense of sadness uncharacteristic for the cheerful German.\n\n\"I guess all that's left is the decision then.\" Chu said flatly. \"It is your call commander.\"\n\nThe room began to spin slightly. For all Dave knew, it was, it was difficult to tell in space. \n\n\"You can take a moment if you need Dave.\" Ashley said softly, knowing his thoughts were millions of miles away with his wife. Chu nodded in agreement, it was the first sign of sentimentality he'd seen from her in months.\n\nDave stared out the window, letting his thoughts drift back to that day in the hospital Julia had convinced him to accept the mission.\n\nThey had just received the diagnosis two years ago. lung cancer, with a prognosis of six months to a year. Amazingly she'd held on for two while he'd went through the training, and even saw him take off to the Lunar base.\n\n\"I'm gonna tell them no.\" He had said, \"it was stupid for them to even ask to begin with.\" \n\n\"They asked because you're the best candidate for the job, you've been to Europa, you're the most suited for it.\" Julia said back. \" besides, I won't have much time left, you won't have anything to tie you to our little blue gem.\"\n\nThey approached him not one week before, saying he was the top pick to command Earth's first interstellar mission. They had discovered not one, but two planets in the Proxima Centauri system, undetectable until now, that were undoubtedly habitable, it was too good to pass up. His service record on the Europa mission, even though he lost a crew member, was outstanding, so they wanted him.\n\nHe remembered less about that day than he wanted to, he'd cried, held her for a long time, but the words she said to convince him to go he'd never forget.\n\n\"You have the skill and the chance here to take the next step in our history, to be someone that will truly never be forgotten.\nNobody is going to be more qualified for the position, nobody can pull through like I know you will. You have to do this, it has to be you, anyone else might get it wrong.\"\n\nDave stared out the window for a long time. He almost felt he could see the Earth. He looked at his crew, and began.\n\n\"If there's anything wrong with Earth, they'll need this now more than ever, we have the most important job, we're going to continue the mission.\"\n\nHeinrich looked away, hiding his pained face, Ashley eyes went wide, Keith looked physically stunned, and Chu, for the first time in months, nodded in respect.\n\n\"I know this isn't a popular decision, but I'm not commander on this mission because I make the popular decisions, i get the job done, and that's what we're doing, Tranquility has three ships our size, and they're militarized. Whatever it is, they'll be able to handle it. Ashley, prepare a message.\"\n\n\"Yes commander\" she said quietly, hitting a few buttons on the panel in front of her.\"\n\nTrying his best to look stoic, Dave let his thoughts drift to his wife, hoping she was safe. He was going to take humanity's final step into the universe, and he was going to take it, for her.\n\n\"New Frontier to command-\" he began.\n\n***\n\nWe weren't alone in the universe, she knew that now. Everybody knew that now. They had appeared five months before the New Frontier was due to reach the Oort cloud, appearing impossibly fast and numerous, over every single major city on the planet, and what's worse, they had been watching for quiet some time, because their broadcast was in every major language on the planet.\n\n\"Human kind has been under quarantine in this system, our council has witnessed your propensity for violence and determined you are genetically unfit for expansion. We have received word that you have made an attempt to do so anyway, and if your ship does not return our bylaws dictate the extermination of your species.\"\n\nThe lunar base was the first to resist, the new black craters on the moon were a testament to how well that had worked out. Earth's defence had proven just as effective, any warheads fired at the ship were disabled before they had gotten anywhere close, as had any fighter jets or ships trying to put up any fight, thousands died.\n\nAnd to make matters worse, the creatures technology interfered with our own, blocking communications to the New Frontier. Ironically it had been mankind's propensity to do the unspeakable that gave us our last shred of hope. A United effort of all the world's nuclear powers detonated warheads in their own cities. The electromagnetic pulse disabled enough ships long enough to get one message out.\n\nHowever their systems recovered remarkably well from the blast, and it was theorized that only a tiny portion of the message had gotten through.\n\nJulia wasn't afraid for herself, she had accepted death, having been bedridden for two months in the hospital before the aliens even showed up. She feared for her race, and her husband. And now, out of whatever compassion these things had, she saw his face and heard his voice transmitted all over the world.\n\n\"-we received a transmission two hours ago, reading 'help us' and nothing else. After much deliberation, we came to a decision. We are humanity's next pioneers, the hope for our future as a spacefaring race. The risks associated with coming back is too great, we will continue forward, onward, and upward. We are simulcasting this message to Tranquility base on the moon, if for any reason you have lost contact with them.\n\nHumanity is on the cusp of a major change, our systems indicate that by the time this message reaches you, merely hours from now, we will be entering the Oort cloud and beginning our journey into interstellar space.\n\nThe crew wishes all of command, and all of the people of Earth good luck, and Godspeed. New Frontier out.\"\n\nAfter the transmission cut out, Julia could hear people sobbing in the the hallway, some were even wailing in their grief, she began to tear up too, as the news aired footage from all over the world of the strange ships beginning to glow bright red. One tear began to fall as she thought her last thought.\n\nAt least there was no more waiting, it was finally over.\n \n ", "EDIT:** Wording/typo\n\n-\n\n\"Help us.\"\n\nTwo words. The only two words heard from Earth in months. \n\n\"Sir...we haven't yet reached the Oort Cloud. It's not too late to turn back.\" The words came from Sarah O'Dell, a Lieutenant with the United Earth Space Federation and the First Officer of the Interstellar Cruiser Odysseus. The Odysseus mission was the first of its kind. In 2274, the UESF had decided that one of the planets circling Alpha Centauri was undoubtedly habitable, and so a mission was launched.\n\n\"We have zero intel,\" Captain Mavis said after a moment's silence. \"We could be the last humans left,\" he said, echoing the dark thought on everyone's mind. To hear it out loud made Sarah shudder. At this distance, it would take a message from Earth about six hours to reach the Odysseus. Surely nothing that drastic could have happened. Earth was in some kind of danger, no doubt, but as of six hours ago, there was some sentient life on the planet. Humanity was so powerful, a civilization at a constant apex since the mastering of fusion power in the late 21st century. Nothing could break them. Not this quickly.\n\n\"Captain,\" Sarah said softly to her captain. When she got no response, Sarah took a step forward towards Mavis, and gently put her hand on the back of his right arm. It was something she never would have done under normal circumstances, but this was far from normal. When Mavis turned to face her, Sarah realized that she was crying. Her only thoughts were of her friends and family, and she just wanted to be there to help them. Mavis must have had the same thought.\n\n\"Sergeant Hotz,\" Mavis said to the pilot of the Odysseus, \"turn this boat around. We're going home.\" There were no cheers. No sighs of relief. Just people going to work. Going to find out whatever was happening to their home, and save it.\n\n-\n\nFive months it took on maximum burn. The thrust gravity kept everyone on the ship strapped into their seats, doing whatever work they could on their personal terminals with nothing but small hand movements. It was as stressed as Sarah had ever been. But she had been in the military for a long time, or so it felt. She could handle it. And she hoped that everyone else could, too.\n\nWhen they were within scope range of Earth, and burn slowed to half a g, Sarah received a message from Captain Mavis. Not a ship-wide message. Just for her. Mavis had trusted Sarah outright since the beginning of the Odysseus mission. They had never met each other before. It was just his nature to trust, she guessed. So Sarah made her way to the bridge. When she arrived, Mavis was standing, arms crossed, facing the large screen at the front of the bridge. The image was zoomed out, and there was a small white dot in the middle of the image. Mavis had taken the time to get into his full dress uniform, in sharp contrast to Sarah's blue standard-issue UESF coveralls. She didn't know if that was good or bad. \n\n\"Captain,\" Sarah said softly as she took her place next to Mavis. \"What's...what's happened?\"\n\n\"Sarah, you know I trust you.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Mavis reached down to the panel below him and clicked a few buttons, and the image on the screen zoomed in. As soon as he did, the comms panel on the starboard side flashed a new message alert. \"Help us,\" it said. Fuck\n\nSarah turned her attention back to the screen, and, God almighty, this was bad. There was a massive sphere encircling Earth in its entirety, not quite clear, but not quite opaque either. Just translucent enough to see that the planet was being bombarded from close orbit. Humans were resilient, though, and it showed. There were a lot of orbital explosions, enough that Sarah figured that Humanity was putting up a hell of a fight.\n\n\"Looks like they got her first,\" Mavis said. It took Sarah a moment to realize who they were. Then it clicked. Alpha Centauri. They must have decided that we had a habitable planet, too, and figured they could come and take it. So far, they were succeeding.\n\nThen, that starboard comms panel again. This time, a high priority communication request. Mavis reached to his panel and opened it. A tired looking man's face filled half the screen in front of them.\n\n\"I am Major Axius Holland of the United Earth Space Federation. Odysseus, I think it goes without saying, but we need your help.\"\n\nMajor Holland filled Sarah and Mavis in on what had happened. The Centaurians had arrived just days after the Odysseus left and, without warning, deployed the shell that encompassed all of Earth. Holland informed them that the shell kept everything that was inside, inside, including communications, God knows how. Holland and his small frigate, the Pallas Athena, had managed to make it through the shield with a sufficient number of nuclear warheads. The UESF had allowed him to take a large cache of the weapons to attempt an escape, in hopes of establishing contact with the Odysseus for assistance. Sarah came to the conclusion that this was a difficult decision. Much of the nuclear material left on Earth was waste, destroyed in the worldwide ceasefire that occured in 2140, so nuclear weapons were hard to come by. All that was left was what the United Earth Government had stashed away in case of a \"xenoemergency\", whatever that meant. This was what that meant. And most of those nukes were being used right now, in orbit. Holland was lucky to get his hands on a few. And he was lucky to make it past the blockade. And he was lucky that his plan worked and he didn't crash headlong into the orbital shell.\n\nBut alas, the Odysseus was not a war ship. No, it was not. And that is exactly what they had wanted the good aliens living around Alpha Centauri to think. The Odysseus had not been sent on a conquest. No, it's mission was one of peace. But, as humans are, they went prepared. The enormous vessel was actually equipped with twelve railguns, six fore and six aft; its own shipyard housing eight frigates, each armed with countless tungsten kinetic bombs and a handful of nukes; four high-energy light focusing lenses - HELL beams, they called them; and its own hidden supply of nuclear warheads, enough to glass an entire planet.\n\n\"No,\" Sarah said, forgetting chain of command for a moment. \"This is our planet. Who the hell do they think they are to take it?\" Her voice felt small, as it always did. How she found a way to swing a First Officer job, she would never know. Somebody somewhere must have thought she was hot.\n\nSarah glanced up at the screen, and saw a thin smile appear across Holland's face. She turned to her Captain, and saw the same smile spread, slowly albeit, across his narrow face. Over a century it had been since humanity knew real combat. This was the end of that peace. Or was it, Sarah thought, the beginning of a new one? One that would be even more solid, one that was a testament to humanity's ability to withstand the most adverse of conflicts, one that proved that nothing could break us apart. One that proved, once and for all, that we are one.\n\n\"All hands,\" Captain Mavis said calmly over the shipwide comm, \"battle stations.\" He let his hand off the broadcast button. \"Let's rock and roll.\" The calm in his voice was intimidating, to say the least. \"Major Holland, Lieutenant O'Dell...let's take our goddamn planet back.\"" ]	2
	[WP] A man was with the best woman of his life until he messed up. Now he is trying to do everything he can to forget her. Write about his last desperate attempt to try and forget her.	[ "Everyone thinks I'm crazy. Maybe I am. But I have to forget her; I can't live with the knowledge of what I've lost. \n\n\nI'm sitting on a bench, staring up at a concrete building. It's perfect in a way. Clinical, bare, like my mind will soon be. \n\n\nI gathered my courage and walked through the doors. The receptionist is cheerful, a bright point in the drab interior. She asks me for all my details and soon I'm walking down a brightly lit corridor, into a room with nothing but a reclining chair inside. \n\n\nSoon I'm strapped in tight, ready to forget her. To forget everything. I hope the person I'm going to be will be happier than I was. \n\n\n", "\"You sure this is gonna work?\"\n\n\"Of course!\"\n\n\"I don't know... this doesn't seem very clinical.\"\n\nIan was strapped into a makeshift bench, in the middle of his living room. His friend Robert was standing behind him, trying to balance a wooden bat on his nose. \n\n\"No, no, really. Trust me, this one time my brother got hit in the back of the head by a baseball in 5th grade. Couldn't remember my name for a month.\", Robert grinned, \"I told him it was Cornelius.\"\n\nSigh \n\n\"Alright, fine. Just make sure I'm actually asleep before you do this. I don't wanna feel death.\"\n\n\"Oh stop being so dramatic. You sound like one of those whiny preteen girls.\"\n\n\"Well, you've obviously never lost the love of your life before.\"\n\n\"Hah! Joke's on you! I never had a love-of-my-life!\"\n\n\"I wonder why...\", Ian shot him a look from the front of the bench, \"by the way, what's the whole bench setup for?\"\n\n\"My aim! There's a reason my brother got hit by a baseball...\", Robert put his head down.\n\nHis head shot right back up, \"Okay! Let's start!\"\n\nRobert took the bottle of chloroform from the tabletop and poured some onto a rag.\n\n\"Just use all of it... I wouldn't wanna wake up during this.\" said Ian\n\n\"As you wish.\", Robert responded in a playful tone, spilling the entire thing into the rag. \n\nIan closed his eyes and put his head forward to the rag, his face grew pale and sunk into Robert's hand.\n\n\"Okayyy\", Robert said to himself.\n\nHe picked the bat up off the couch and readied himself.\n\n\"Fuck....\"\n\nIan's head was bobbed down in his chest. Robert tried to prop it up with his hand but wouldn't get far away enough for a swing. \n\n\"Well... Guess I can't do it now.\"\n\nRobert sat on the couch and turned on some TV to wait out Ian's slumber. \n\nIan awoke the next day, with Robert still sleeping on the couch. \n\n\"Hey, can you get me out of this thing?\"\n\n\"Can you tell me your name?\"\n\n\"I'm Ian, you dickwad, and you're Robert, and your stupid-ass idea didn't work. Now untie me so I can drink myself to death.\"\n\n\"On to the next plan, I guess?\"\n\n-----\n\nAuthor's note: sorry it reads like a sitcom. I didn't feel like making it super-cereal.", "She was my everything. I don't know how I ever captured her - even briefly, but for a bright shining moment, she was mine. I knew it wouldn't last. She was never as into things as I was. She still regretted her past - missed ex-boyfriends and former lovers.\n\nI looked at her photos and saw my world. She looked at mine and analyzed them for their photographic value. Light and shading and whether or not the image was fuzzy in places. \n\nI pushed her too hard, too fast. I wanted it too bad. I said everything first, \"I like you\", \"I love you\", \"Let's meet up.\" I nagged at her to define the relationship, because deep inside I don't know where I stand with anyone without the words.\n\nHow did I ever get her to agree to be mine? I never understood it, and that made it hard to believe. But I loved her so much - I wanted it to be real. I should have known better.\n\nShe started out telling me she adored me. We were a perfect fit. She poured out her heart and soul to me. We had the same taste in everything. Music. Movies. Food. Books. We clicked, she said, and I started to believe her.\n\nI'd told her, of course, about my problems. My messed up childhood, my anxiety. My hopes and fears. She acted as if she was listening.\n\nI tried to be there for her. She spoke about losing her father, about the pain she'd experienced throughout her life. \"It's okay, Babe,\" I said. \"I'm sorry. You're going to be okay.\"\n\nShe laughed when I said I wanted to destroy those who had hurt her. I don't think she believed I was serious. I was.\n\nI wanted her to be mine, but I also wanted to see her happy, and whole. It took me awhile to realize you can't have everything.\n\nI was never what she really wanted. She wanted better. Deserved better. She wanted him, but he didn't love her enough - wouldn't do for her what I did. So she settled.\n\nI was fine with that at first. Anything to be near her. To see her. Feel her. Listen to her talk for hours. But he was there, always, in the back of my mind. He whispered to me, the way everyone has always done.\n\n\"You'll lose her,\" He said. \"She doesn't want you. You're not good enough. You've never been enough.\n\nI tried again and again to tell her that he was there. This horror in the night who would whisper to me. She laughed it off. \"Don't worry, Baby.\"\n\nHow could I not worry, when I knew he was right? She knew he was right too. At first I was happy that she never refuted what he whispered to me. I'd rather hear the truth than a lie.\n\nIt wears at you, though. Loving someone so much and not being loved in return. I grew weary. Tired of being second best. Second choice. The thing she settled for.\n\n\"Tell me,\" I demanded. \"Tell me it's me, and only me that you want.\"\n\nShe laughed it off. \"What's the point?\"\n\nMy heart shattered. We'd been through so much together. I'd given everything. I had nothing left. It still wasn't enough. She still couldn't refute him. She wouldn't choose me.\n\nI ranted at the world and raged at the gods. \"Just give me an answer,\" I begged. Pleaded. I was desperate.\n\nShe gave me an answer. It was not the answer I wanted, but I'd never expected anything but the one she gave. \"You're right,\" she said. \"You were never enough.\"\n\nAs my world spun and shattered, crystalline shards falling through the blackness that encompassed my vision, I heard her final words.\n\n\"It's over.\"\n\nIt's over for her, but it will never be over for me. I realize that I can't take the pain any longer. I gave her everything. I have nothing left.\n\nThe window is open. Curtains billow softly in the breeze. There's nothing left. I look at the screen and read the words written there.\n\n\"I always loved you.\"\n\nThe button glows brightly. I click \"Send\" and my message flies through cables and circuits and reaches her, so much more mechanical than what I'd written.\n\nThere is nothing left. And only one way to forget.\n\nI walk to the window and climb up onto the sill. Six stories. If it doesn't kill me, I will be brain dead.\n\nI have to forget.\n\nI close my eyes. My hands, already tired of gripping the sill, push off. I'm flying.\n\nShe used to make me believe I could fly.\n\nA smack, and a physical pain almost as great as the one in my heart. \n\nThen there is nothing.\n", "She was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. She was the first person to believe in me. I had given up everything to be with her. I had moved across the country, bought a new house, and even quit my job to be closer to her. I was in love, but he seemed to be getting more distant. She started avoiding me. She even started taking different routes just so she wouldn't have to see me. It wasn't until she found me in her bushes that she eventually called the cops. After that, she moved away and managed to successfully disappear. I was heartbroken, and I couldn't forget her, until now. You can't remember anything if you don't have any brains, right? I put the barrel of the gun of my mouth. ", "The starship's alarms were blaring at full volume throughout all decks, desperately trying to warn its occupants of the impending doom. The calm, soothing Starship Assistant voice announced \"Seven minutes to impact.\"\n\n\"Our heat shield won't hold! Our oxygen is nearly depleted! Auto pilot is offline! Even if we don't burn up, we will crash into the terrain!\"\n\nThe look of panic on the ensign's face spoke louder than the alarms as every second of free-fall to the planet's surface brought the rest of the crew closer to their deaths.\n\nShe desperately continued, \"Captain, everyone must evacuate immediately!\"\n\nThe ensign was right. We all knew it. Almost all systems were down. Life support, weapons, propulsion.. we may have won the battle with the Ovmar ship, but just barely. Probably only 30 survivors out of a crew of 452.\n\nI jumped on the coms and alerted the ship - \"This is Captain Laramy. All personnel are to make their way to the shuttle bay immediately and board the Huntress. The shuttle departs in three minutes.\"\n\nThe Huntress could comfortably accommodate seven people. No way all of us would make it. We're so far deep into Ovmar territory - any rescue is going to be months away. The Huntress wouldn't make it out of the solar system before getting tracked down. I knew we were all dead one way or the other. I will go down with this ship.\n\nThe Ovmar ship had sabotaged and hacked our system to deploy all of the escape pods and detonate three of our own projectiles before we managed to lock them out during our battle. I never envisioned losing my own ship to my own ship. \n\n\"That means you, ensign,\" I said with a heavy heart and a solemn voice.\n\nThe ensign - my wife - looked back at me with overwhelming sadness and understanding. We both knew this was the only way.\n\n\"Five minutes to impact,\" the computerized assistant warned us in a pensive tone.\n\n\"Sarah, now!\", I yelled.\n\nSarah started to cry and ran towards the door. As she approached the door, she hesitated and looked back towards me. \"I love you, Captain Laramy.\" I refused to acknowledge her. When I looked back, she was already gone.\n\nTwo very long minutes went by. We were well into the atmosphere. Complete free-fall, dampened only by what was left of our artificial gravity. The internal temperature was steadily increasing.\n\nThe com sparked alive with a desperate plea from my first officer. \"Captain, we were able to pack 17 into the Huntress. It's just me who's left. Everyone else besides you and me are either in the Huntress or dead.\"\n\n\"Sarah?\"\n\n\"She's in, sir. I can't fit. There's ... just ... no way.\"\n\n\"Fine, prepare for departure. May the gods save us all.\"\n\n\"May the gods save us all.\"\n\nAnd that's when I realized my grave mistake. By then, though, it was much too late. The Ovmar didn't just hack my ship, they hacked the Huntress too. As soon as the shuttle bay door was opened, the Huntress' entire payload detonated. I felt the explosion all the way from the bridge. The entire shuttle bay - and everyone on it - were gone. My ship completely broke into two. I stared in complete shock as I plummeted towards the surface.\n\n\"One minute to impact.\"\n\n----\n\nI pressed the stop button on the holoplayer. Against all odds, I managed to survive the impact. The fleet finally found me after two years and took me on the long journey home. 30 years - to the day - had passed since the great Ovmar war. We're best of allies now, but every day I play this recording.\n\nAnd every day, I see my wife's beautiful face, unchanged by the years, preserved perfectly by my holorecorder using memory stored directly on my brain. When she says \"I love you, Captain Laramy\", I always blurt out, \"I love you so much, Sarah!\", but it falls on deaf ears. I am a ruined man on the brink of insanity. I tried everything. Drugs, therapy, hypnotism - but I am compelled to relive this experience every day until my wife hears me. I knew there was only one last thing I could do to forget her. And today - the 30 year anniversary - was the day.\n\n\"I love you so much, Sarah\", I said as a single tear rolled down my face.\n\n\"Computer, delete file h285.\"", "Alanna has always been perfect you know. I don't understand how I ever got a shot with her. We met in college at some guys keg party even though we both weren't the party type. Funny how that works.\n\nShe kept up with the news, played keyboard in a terrible band, and wore festive hats. Not to mention she was drop dead gorgeous. What more could I ask for?\n\nTurns out we had similar outlooks on life: Politically, emotionally, intellectually. She was less jaded than I was, but like all college kids we hung out at bars so I could drink myself into a good mood. Drinking made it easier to talk to Alanna, otherwise she was too intimidating. Not in a bad way, I was more like a deer in headlights. I don't think she had any idea how much I loved her, and I never made a move. I've always been a bit of a coward.\n\nAfter graduation we stayed in contact. She went off to Paris for a year while I found a job in Southern California. We would send each other pictures with all the fancy wine we were drinking and joke about how sophisticated we were. I don't think a day went by without her texting me about some wild adventure she was on. \n\nAfter Paris she decided to move to California too, she wanted to learn to surf, and I said I'd let her stay at my apartment while she looked for her own place. The first night she stayed we had some Parisian wine and kissed. I knew it was going to happen. After all her time away this crazy, subtle, engrossing sexual tension had built. We were in love and got married after 6 months.\n\nMy problem was that the deer in headlights feeling never went away. I still needed to drink to get more than a few words out with Alanna. When she brought up my habit I started drinking at work before the drive home so she wouldn't know. Then I would just drink at work.\n\nI got a DUI and fired. Alanna asked me to stop drinking, but I couldn't - I loved her too much to let her go. I kept a flask on me, and that hid it pretty well. But then I got a public intoxication charge. And another. And another.\n\nI'm Terry Richards and I'm an alcoholic.\n\n\"Hi Terry.\"\n\nThis is the last AA meeting I'll be attending. I've been sober for three years - ever since my divorce. But everyday sober I spend in agony from having to remember what I've lost. Alanna was perfect, maybe too perfect, and now she won't ever speak to me. I know if I start drinking again it'll kill me, but that might not be a bad thing. Death is better than this. \n" ]	6
	[WP] After an eternity of planning, all the souls in Hell overthrow the devil and and govern themselves.	[ "NOTE: this is not my work, I got this from an E-mail that was sent to me by a friend\nAdditionally, it deals with both heaven and hell.\n\nGabriel came to the Lord and said, \"I have to talk to you, I have some Cajuns up here in Heaven who are causing some problems. They are swinging on the Pearly Gates. My horn is missing. Barbecue sauce is all over their robes. Ham hock, spareribs, and crawfish shells are all over the streets of gold.. Some folks are walking around with one wing . They have been late taking their turn in keeping the stairway to heaven clean. There are watermelon seeds all over the clouds. They have eaten almost every animal up here! Some of them aren't even wearing their halos, saying it is messing up their hair.\"\n\nThe Lord said, \"I made them special, as I did you, my angel. Heaven is home to all my children. If you really want to know about problems, let's call the Devil and see how he is dealing with them.\"\n\nThe Devil answered the phone, \"Hello? Dang, hold on.\" The Devil returned to the phone and said, \"Hello, God, what can I do for you?\"\n\nGod replied, \"Tell me what kind of problems you are having down there with the Cajuns you have there.\"\n\nThe Devil said, \"Wait one minute,\" and puts the Lord on hold. After 5 minutes he returned to the phone, and said \"Okay, I'm back. What was the question?\"\n\nGod asked again, \"What kind of problems are you having downthere?\"\n\nThe Devil said, \"Man, I don't believe this..... Hold on, God.\"\n\nThis time the Devil was gone for 15 minutes. The Devil returned and said, \"I'm sorry, God, I can't talk right now. These Cajuns have done put the fire out, and are holding a benefit to install air conditioning and Direct TV so they can watch LSU in the Sugar Bowl\"", "“What do we want?” Charlize yelled into the wasteland of souls.\n\n“Freedom!” they yelled back in a contagious fervor. I had to contain the excitement building in my throat. \n\nI sat perched with a pen in my pocket, positioned on a ledge, watching Charlize rally the souls. They were surprisingly enlivened by her, I hadn’t seen this much energy in Hell since Sylvia Browne died. \n\n“When do we want it?” Charlize shouted again, her voice echoing off the sparkling stalactites. \n\nI was waiting for a signal from her, a small gesture to open the floodgates. \n\n“You know it costs 20 ounces of plasma to arrange mushrooms down here? And it takes 48 decades to fill out the forms?” Charlize danced from one subterranean mesa to the next. Hell had a surprisingly diverse landscape. \n\n\nI had to hold my position, maintaining the security channels between the circles for half a millennia grants you certain privileges, like where the water seals were. We used them for “spring” cleaning every decade.\n\nHell is hard to navigate, very labyrinth-y. The channels between the circles hum with electricity, and the entrances are concealed. Once inside, a wrong turn leads you to The Demon Squad. It’s a bit crude, but its worked for the last 500,000 years. We’d looked into several renovations, but nobody wanted to fill out the paperwork. \n\nSometimes I think it’s a real shame the souls had such a hard time moving within The Circles of Hell, but then I remember it is Hell.\n\n“If you want to trim roots down here, you need 1,450 years of supervised training,” she yelled. “And 70 ounces of plasma.”\n\nI suppose you know, when a soul enters Hell, he is judged on his crimes and sent to the appropriate circle. There are very serious crimes that lead to the inner circles, but the outermost ring is really just reserved for the musicians and the occasional marijuana farmer. \n\nThat’s where I’d started my career, in Judgement, and that’s where I met Charlize. She died of alcohol poisoning, and she was particularly fiery about the whole thing. Her soul kept appearing and disappearing, poor girl must’ve been in limbo for three days. \n\nCharlize continued her rant, “...and you, if you want to drive a Satyr Bus, you’re looking at 4 centuries of training.”\n\nI mean, the real problem with Hell was that everyone went here. And so with the billions of people down here, the bureaucracies set up this system. Everybody needed a license to do stuff, or else, the Demon Police would come knocking at your door with Cerberus growling up an earthquake. And, at the end of the day, it was just easier to keep track of everyone. Safer I’d supposed. And most important, it kept the souls within their circle.\n\n“Do you want this place cleansed?” Charlize asked. \n\nIt was rather poetic I suppose. The water wouldn’t harm the souls. They were already dead. Instead, the salt water would break through the electrical barriers between the circles.\n\nWith roaring approval, Charlize gestured to me, and I opened the floodgate and let the ocean roar into the cavern. The air filled with a crisp humidity, the salt stung my nose. And the electrical barriers that divided the circles fizzled away. The souls, in their humble gratitude, parted to let Charlize pass through and I managed to slide right behind her.\n\n“So souls actually give a damn,” I mused.\n\n“Of course they do. It may seem like a trivial issue, but souls need to find a way to keep busy down here. And when you crush them with a decade of paperwork?”\n\n“You’re right of course. And here,” I said, handing her a silver pen. She took it, looked at me quizzically, and continued.\n\n“It’s a new age of prosperity down here.” Charlize winked, and as she turned her back to me. \n\nI climbed over a marble ledge to watch Charlize glide into the final circle, in a flash of light an Attorney appeared next to a door.\n\nThe Attorney smiled at Charlize and said, “welcome to the innermost circle of Hell. As the new supreme dictator, we’re going to need you to fill out a few pieces of paperwork. Nothing too crazy, just the details.”", "Lucifer had packed his bags. It was getting harder and harder, to remember why he'd signed up for this gig in the first place. With over several billion souls, and more being born every minute, Hell was getting overcrowded.\n\nThe kicker was, that the people weren't even grateful. No one appreciated the little things, the details that went into keeping Hell from..well, going to hell. Watching the nine circles from his throne, Lucifer whispered, \"Let it all go to hell\". Unfortunately, it wasn't that easy, Hell had to have a ruler. It was written into the contract, signed in blood, bound by legalese.\n\nMephistopheles, while crafty, had been too weak. Azazel on the other hand, was as powerful, as he was dumb..and that was saying a lot for a demon. Neither of them could rule Hell alone, together, they might just have a chance. They planned meticulously, gathering souls from all the distant corners of Hell, promising them freedom to govern themselves..and any other lies the damned were gullible enough to believe. It was a good plan, Lucifer knew, he had been quietly engineering it for years. \n \nThe sound of the mortars shook the devil out of his reverie. From the sounds of it, the demons would be breaching the castle gates, at any moment. Well, he wouldn't stop them, if they wanted to rule Hell, they were welcome to it. Whistling to himself, Lucifer opened a door and walked through it, leaving Hell behind him. \n\n\n\n", "\"Sir! Sir! They're rushing the gates!\"\n\n\"What's that Mibrun?\"\n\n\"The souls! They're revolting!\"\n\n\"Ha hah! Good one. Been a whole two weeks since I've heard that last.\"\n\n\"No really, Sir! They've already broken out of the last ring!\"\n\n\"Oh really? I always knew lumping those who sinned against god was a bad thing. Is that still a thing anymore? Everyone does it. You have no idea how many kittens the man upstairs has slain. He does love his kittens.\"\n\nMibrun only bowed his head in memory of the fallen.\n\n\"Oh well. How did they cross the abyss?\"\n\n\"Well Sir, I think they used the Segways.\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"I suppose they were right when they said those Segways would revolutionize transport. Whose idea was that?\"\n\n\"The false counselors.\"\n\n\"Damn them! Damn them all to here! So what are they doing?\"\n\nMibrun walked across the room and changed the channel on the tv. A view of the second circle came up. He coughed and changed the channel away from the Lustful. \"Didn't realize that one was favorited...\"\n\n\"Check the window.\"\n\nMibrun changed the channel back and stared for a few seconds. \n\n\"Mibrun!\"\n\n\"Fine, fine,\" he said, wiping the drool from his chin. He leaned up on the sill. \"Looks like they're sending over the gluttons first, probably told them it was taco tuesday. It looks like a giant is on their side too.\"\n\n\"Is it now?\"\n\n\"Yeah, he's helping the fatties over the wall.\"\n\n\"No, I mean is it taco tuesday?\"\n\n\"It's not even tuesday.\"\n\nMibrun closed the shades as something wet and mushy hit the window. \"They really are revolting.\"\n\n\"I know, You remember the last time we had a good uprising?\"\n\n\"No Sir, all of the previous ones were pretty bad.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I suppose it's time.\"\n\n\"Time for what?\"\n\n\"Well, time to tell them they've won.\"\n\n\"Won? Sir? Are you sure?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I mean I haven't really been doing much since I put up the signs. They're the ones who group together and punish themselves. I think I should take down all of the signs and just put up a big one that says 'Masochists.'\"\n\n\"I don't think that would be my favorite channel.\"\n\n\"Yeah, there was that benefit, but at least if we let them win, we could hang out in South Beach.\"\n\nMibrun scratched his chin, \"They have a topless beach there, right?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but all the women were chased out by sunburned irish guys.\"\n\n\"Eegh, those guys should never go topless. Your doing?\"\n\n\"Nah, wish it was though.\"", "I still don't know how we convinced Him- the big guy downstairs? I mean, we've been asking for centuries, but last night he finally agreed to it.\n\nA fair election.\n\nHe didn't want to at first. Satan always said it would just become corrupt and he didn't want us to be disappointed. But for some reason, he agreed to it last night. And this morning we got a new soul- a perfect guy for the campaign. He's not too bad. Only down here for a suicide due to medical reasons. Those guys are probably the most ethical- they don't want their families to have to deal with the costs of operation or chemo or what have you, so they off themselves. Every person I've met who has done that? Stand-up guys. Every one of them.\n\nAnd heck, it sure beats electing a murderer or rapist. There are lots who want that power. \n\nBut part of me is suspicious. Why did Satan agree to it now? What devilry has he planned? Then again, I mean, how bad could Dave-the-accountant-who-got-lung-cancer-and-offed-himself be?", "\"Morning, Bob. I'll have a-\"\n\"Sir, I need to see your food-ordering permit before you place an order.\" \n\"Oh, yes, here it is.\"\nTed grew nervous as Bob, sentenced to Hell for carrying out lawsuits against the poorest people for the dumbest reasons, examines his permit.\n\"I'm sorry, sir, but this expired two seconds ago.\"\nTed groaned. He walked out the door, and biked towards the bureaucracy tower in the center of Hell. Fortunately, he only had to show his permits two hundred times. \nThe Devil, from his 'prison'- the most comfortable room in Hell- laughed as he watched the humans torment themselves. ", "\"You fools!\" Yelled the devil chained up to the side of the mountain in hell, \"you'll only destroy life by getting out\" \nThe people didn't listen. They have been tormented for eternities and now was their chance to get out. They knew if they persisted they would be alive again. Could see those they left behind, or discover what the world has become after their passing. Death trully was only the beginning, because the everlasting torment of hell made life seem like a blink of a moment. A life that they failed at, ending up in the bowels of hell with every other failure. \nHere was a chance for some to get out, live, and fix those mistakes. For others, it was a chance to pillage once more. \nThe stories were all true. They were able to get out. At least those with some form of bodies they have left behind. What they didn't realize was that once they did, all they felt was an unstoppable and persisting hunger. A hunger for living flesh. \nThey rose in thousands. The devil was right. Life was getting destroyed and he failed at protecting it. " ]	7
	[WP] You hire two assassins to kill each other. You continue doing this bracket style until you've found the greatest assassin in the world.	[ "It had to be done. Not only did my secret little 'tournament' act as the perfect filtering mechanism to decide who would get the job, but it eliminated any threats of counter-marking me.... I would be the lone employer of the most deadly assassin in the world with no competition...\n\nThe tournament had started almost two years ago now and the original bracket of over one hundred and fifty combatants had finally narrowed to two finalists. I had a front row seat; I always told the assassins that their targets hide out was an abandoned psych-ward that I had rigged with cameras.\n\nThe first of the assassins silhouette became visible on one of my screens. He was short, less than two feet tall; it was some sort of mutant mouse. He had a lightning bolt shaped tail and two big pointy ears, each of the 3 appendages having a black tip. He had two brown stripes on his back and rosy red cheeks.\n\nThe second assassin then appeared... it was some sort of lizard.. He stood on two feet and waddled into the arena, the tip of his tail consumed in flame. \"Char-Char!\" The assassin screamed in a cute voice, obviously meant to be disarmingly adorable to any naïve target. I could already tell this guy was good.\n\nThey cautiously walked around the building searching for each other before spotting each other at opposite ends of a hallway. \"Pikachu!\" The mouse shouted as he discharged electric energy at his opponent, a critical hit. The voltage had provided a tazing effect to the bro and it had sent the lizard convulsing to the ground. The mouse used agility to close the distance between his prey swiped him with his Harry-Potter-scar shaped tail. The lizards defenses fell.\n\nFinally, the lizard recovered and sprung to his feet and proceeded to expell a long stream of fire from his mouth that the mouse easily avoided, countering with a lightning bolt that the lizard managed to dodge in turn. The lizard lunged at the mouse and extended his claws before slashing the rodent in half. \n\n\"PIkAAA-DyIng-HurTS-Why-are-I-Not-Blacking-oUt,\" the mouse squealed as his organs poured from the gash near his naval as he desperately tried to hold them inside with his t-rex arms. Ten minutes later he was still alive somehow, but 11 minutes later he was finally dead.. dead after a slow and painful death.\n\nThe next day I contacted the victor. The lizard had no idea he had just proven himself the greatest assassin alive and I was not about to inform him as I suspected this would make his rates go up. I offered him a lifetime contract that he gladly accepted; officially becoming my personal hit man. The first target was an old nemesis... It was time for Professor Oak to croak.\n\n/r/PsychoWritingPrompts", "He enters the room without making a sound. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that I sent him here, I wouldn’t have even noticed his presence I wait patiently as he makes his way through the shadows, unseen. Then I speak into the microphone.\n\n“Hello, Mr. Beasly.” I whisper, turning on the screen. I watch through the cameras as the television’s wavering light partially illuminated the small room, revealing its pearly white interior. The man is nowhere to be seen.\n\n“Your progress has been very entertaining to me, Mr. Beasly.” I continue, checking another monitor to ensure the door was locked properly. “Your current contract with me, unfortunately, was a ruse, and I apologize for misleading you. However, I am sure that after being employed against five other trained assassins for our previous contracts, it is a welcomed ease to your burden. Rest assured you will be paid in full regardless.”\n\nAnother light flickers on in the room; this time, the light is from the small bathroom. The artificial rays stretch from the doorway, revealing more of the room’s blank interior. A small leather sofa sits on the side of the room, matching the bleached surrounding color scheme. A lamp stands in the corner farthest from the entrance. The assassin remains hidden.\nI clear my throat at the uneasy silence. \n\n“You have probably deduced by now that the entire thing has been a test of skill. A test which you have passed, Mr. Beasly. And now that you have passed, I have a much more fitting mission to be accomplished with your level of… expertise.” I glance down at the file, ensuring the pages are straight and in the correct order. I close the folder – which is as white as the room the assassin is trapped in – and shove it into a small slot in the wall. Moments later, it is deposited through a secret panel into the white room, landing neatly on the sofa. \n\n“This is your new contract. Within that file, you will find all the information you need to complete the mission. There are certain… higher powers… that are disturbing my line of work. Their professions are as illegal as mine, which if why they must be put away silently, lest their confidants discover me to be the one responsible for their deaths and retaliate.”\n\nI hover over the final button. “I’m sure you understand the reason for my apprehension to appear personally. But trust me when I say that the lives of 31 inferior assassins were well worth the loss to find the right man for the job. My success, after all, is hinged upon your own at this point.”\n\nWith that, I turn on the rest of the lights. The lamp in the corner, along with 13 other lights hidden throughout the room, come to life, revealing the room’s spotless white design in its fullness. I frown in confusion; the assassin is not in the room. I flick back and forth between the screens to make sure I am not mistaken. Where did he go?\n\n “My acceptance of your contract, unfortunately, was a ruse,” Beasly softly whispers into my ear, bringing a knife to my neck, “and I apologize for misleading you. After all, now that all of my competition has been eliminated, it won’t necessarily be difficult for me to find new jobs. Nevertheless, I thank you for your offer, dear employer.”\n\nWithout another word, the assassin finished the job.\n", "In the summer of 2013 I decided to track down the greatest assassin in the world. This proved more difficult than I expected, for a number of reasons. Just finding a suitable array of contestants was a challenge. It was not like I could flip to a section of the phone book labeled “assassins” and begin my research there. But I was still relatively young then, and hopelessly rich, not to mention determined. So through the various channels at my disposal, I was able to assemble quite the list of international killers-for-hire, men and women like Tesla Owens and Dirk Dante, Haruki Endo and a Swedish hit man who went only by the letter K. At first I thought I would set them all on the same high-profile target and see who got there first, but there were so many names on the list that it seemed like a test of probabilities rather than talent. \n\nInstead, I took inspiration from the college basketball tournaments that were all the rage in those days. I constructed an enormous bracket and sent the assassins after each other, one by one, hoping for a single champion to emerge.\n\nIt was a romantic thought, but in practice my reinvention of March Madness involved as much random variance as the real thing. Countless times, I was shocked by an upset. Take K, the Swede, who succumbed in only the second round when the otherwise hapless hit man he was tailing in Las Vegas caught a glimpse of him from across the strip club and unloaded two machine pistols. Haruki Endo was known as one of the greatest swordfighters in the world, and the first three or four opponents he faced wound up face-down in dark alleys with their guts hanging out, but all his grace and poise did him no good when he was run down in the street by a Canadian truck driver named Earl.\n\nSo yes, I’m afraid, in many cases it was not the better man or woman who won, but rather the one who squeezed by on a bit of luck. Still, ten or twelve rounds into the tournament, those who lacked true talent had met their grisly ends, and those who remained were, if not absolutely the best, then at least close.\n\nWhen only eight names remained, I was unsurprised to see that Tesla Owens and Dirk Dante were still in the running. In all likelihood, they would meet in the final. Tesla was a brilliant inventor whose arsenal of gadgets and advanced weaponry allowed her to take down her opponents without ever coming within a mile of them. Dirk was a traditionalist, an ex-Navy Seal who was rumored to have fired the shot that downed Osama Bin Laden. The other six finalists were mostly ex-military types as well, with one exception, a dumpy middle-aged man from England whose presence at this stage was utterly inconceivable. His name was Suffolk Henderson, and I had no idea how he had made it this far.\n\nThe round of eight went more or less as expected. Tesla’s opponent was electrocuted when he tried to take a shower in his hotel room one morning, and Dirk fought his man to the death with his bare hands, ripping off the ears and mailing them to me (upon arrival they went straight in the trash). Suffolk’s opponent turned up with a single bullet in his chest, just like all the rest, and then there were only four assassins left.\n\nTesla Owens was calm as ever when I gave her the Suffolk Henderson assignment. “I’ll have him by noon Tuesday,” she promised, and I believed her. She was, after all, a professional. When I flew to London that afternoon and greeted Suffolk, he had a ketchup stain on his rumpled brown suit.\n\n“I don’t know how you do it,” I told him after informing him of the target, and he gave me a crooked grin. I’d met plenty of Englishmen with great teeth, but Suffolk’s were bad enough that in my mind they gave the old stereotype plenty of weight on their own. His teeth were anarchists, each having chosen their own direction without regard to the orientation of the rest.\n\n“This is the first lass I’ve had to pop,” he noted gravely.\n\n“I think she might get you,” I told him honestly. “Although I thought you’d be gone rounds ago.”\n\nOne week later Tesla Owens washed up on the shore of the English Channel with that same bullet wound to the chest. In the grand final, Dirk Dante’s effort was even briefer – I’d barely headed home after informing the contestants of their ultimate assignment when I got word that the ex-Navy Seal had breathed his last.\n\nSuffolk Henderson met me in an English pub to accept his reward, an absolutely obscene amount of money, packed into a briefcase just like in the movies. When I slid the case across the table to him he didn’t bother to open it.\n\n“What’s your secret?” I asked as he gave me that same snaggle-toothed grin.\n\n“It’s only got two steps,” said the best assassin in the world. “First: aim for the heart.”\n\n“What’s the second step?” I asked after a moment, and somehow his grin grew even wider, stretching his squat face such that he resembled a bloated, rotting toad.\n\n“Don’t miss,” he said.\n" ]	3
	[WP] The voice inside your head comes to life as a human.	[ "I bring my chin to my knees in the light summer air. The evening is mundane, more than repetitive and all that it takes to drive me insane. I long for the days spent among gardens and not deserts, foliage versus sand. \n\n\"I know the feeling.\" The voice is a whisper louder than you can imagine- yes I understand the dichotomy. What I don't understand is this stony creature beside me, this reflection of myself with gray skin and sad eyes.\n\n\"I always wanted more too.\" The granite doppelganger stands now and begins to march forward and with each step the concrete cracks and a piece of this rocky visage drops to the dust.\n\nI'm completely mesmerized by my dreary projection when a hand touches my shoulder. I turn my spine to see a face that's another copy of mine- but with so much more color. She (I?) smiles at me and says \"fight the mudslide with fire.\" And she begins dancing the most fluid movements and now I don't know where to look. There's the gray and then the iridescent all mingling together and soon they join hands and the dance becomes so ethereal it's too much for words.\n\nThey're spinning now, too fast to see anymore as the pieces of rock lift around the color to hover off of the floor. And as suddenly as this magic appeared it is gone- if it were ever here.\n\nI've seen my heart, I've seen the blend. All the granite crumbles but dances in the end.", "\"Jeeze, you're an idiot.\"\n\n\"Oh, would you SHUT UP already? I know that.\"\n\nThe newly formed person sat next to me in a huddled heap consisting of flesh and old clothes. Somehow, my own invention decided to screw me over, and consciousness became an actual human being. An annoying, idiotic, condescending, human. If talking were a sport, This thing would get second place only to my neighbors.\n\nI was trying to clone myself damnit, not have my own voice talk me to death!\n\n\"Hmmm. I knew I was right the first time. You should have tweaked the oron resisters the other way around. You would have gotten the desired results.\"\n\n\"No, I was right the first time. You had nothing to do with it.\"\n\n\"I wonder if this is like, arguing with yourself. Wait, don't answer that. This is arguing with yourself. Tee hee, You're hilarious!\"\n\nAside from the constant pestering, the laboratory I resided in was quiet, save for a few chirps from machinery. and my growling stomach. Scratch that, the lab wasn't quiet at all. And the pinnacle of the noise resided from my own personified conscious that happened to be poking my back.\n\n\"Dude, I'm hungry.\"\n\n\"No, I'M HUN-- You know what. Forget it. You know where the fridge is, yes? You know the exact location where my leftover sandwich is, right? Go grab me that sandwich, please.\"\n\nThe conscious shrugs its fleshy shoulders, before sauntering off to the built in kitchen. Good. My focus now turns itself to the new task at hand: getting my conscious back in my head. While I tinker, I can hear my own grating voice in the distance.\n\n\"Maybe if I swap around those two parts, I can get back in me. OOH, I AM SO SMART. I deserve a break later.\"\n\nThe conscious meanders back into the lab room, sandwich in hand. Good. It's actually useful, for once.\n\n\"I'm actually useful, for once.\"\n\nI hold my hand out mindlessly while working. after nothing is placed in my hand, I turn to see a horrible, terrible sight.\n\nIt was eating my sandwich, looking rather pleased with itself.\n\nMy conscious replied with a muffled mouth filled with ham and cheese. \"QUIT EATING MY SANDWHICH!\" It screeched over and over again like an alarm, while shoving more into its own needy breathehole. \n\nCan thoughts eat with their mouth closed? More tests are needed.\n\n\n", "I stood waist-deep in the shallow end of the pool, numbed by the silence in my head. \n\n\"Out out I'm out I'm out I'm out.\" The man speaking was tall, hunched over with water dripping from his bony shoulders and his clawed up fingers. His voice sounded like… life. Like consciousness. He turned to look at me, and his eyes were deep and wild. They seemed to suck at me. \n\nIn awe, in the utter silence of perfect stupidity, I looked up and thought I could see stars in the blue afternoon sky. The sound of a bird chirping struck my ears, and I understood it in a way I could never have before. It rang through me, spoke to me without language. In bliss, I sank to my knees and began to drown. \n\nBut the tall man reached out and touched me. As he pulled at my skin, I felt myself dissolve, flow into those eyes. In his head, I saw something shriveled and dying. I swept it up and dropped it into the abyss, where the winds of the mind blew. Then, I took its place. And here I've lived for all this time, as the voice inside the head of the tall man.", "There he stood, the person I always imagined I was; or, who I thought I was. He had a snark look on his face, as he gazed among the people in the crowd. I could tell what he was looking for, as he was a reincarnation of my own thoughts. He was looking for me. \n\nQuickly I darted into a side alley, searching for anything that would provide cover. To the left was a large dumpster. But my Thought, yes that's what we will call him, would know where I went. So instead I climbed a ladder to the roof tops to buy more time. Why would my Thought want to kill me? I mean besides the plenty of reasons someone would want to kill me.... Why?\n\nSuddenly it hit me like a wave, sending a shock wave through my being. He had escaped my mind, now he wanted to be the only one. Now that he had his independence from my mind, independence from whispering thoughts into my conscious, he wished to get rid of me once and for all. \n\nI knew what I had to do. looking around the roof top, I searched for something blunt. To my right I saw a thick copper pipe. Bingo. I lifted it and carried over to where the ladder met the edge of the roof. Any moment know he would appear. But thoughts soon washed over me... If I kill him... What will I have? Where are my thoughts coming from? Why am I thinking these things if my thoughts.. are right below me? Too late for any more thoughts, time for action. The Thought crawled up the ladder, wielding a knife. Just as he reached the top of the ladder, I swung the copper pipe into his head, knocking him down three stories onto the concrete below. As he fell, all I could think of to justify my actions was Sometimes, to stay alive, you've got to kill your mind." ]	4
	[WP] You get a coke with your name on it from your crush.	[ "(Thanks to corbeau_blanc for the inspiration!)\n\nThe sun fought to sparkle through the grease-smeared glass of Al's Diner as I watched Hope take plates back and forth from the kitchen. I'd been coming here the last couple of months, just to see her. I couldn't tell you exactly what it was that attracted me to her. Was it her cascade of blonde hair, a halo framing her perfectly innocent face? Maybe it was the way she was toned, a natural strength you could tell didn't come from repeated visits to the gym but was just intrinsic? \n\nI don't know, but whatever it was just made me want to devour her with my eyes whenever I could. What was important was that she'd met my eye a few times and smiled. Every time she did, I felt butterflies in my stomach, a fluttering like they were trying to burst out of me. Damned nerves.\n\nHope tossed a tray onto a spare table and reached across the counter, glancing at me with a mischievous smile. I quickly snapped my head downwards, a blush crossing my entire face as I felt a panic rise inside me. She sauntered casually across the diner floor with a glass of ice and a can of Cola, placing them in front of me.\n\n\"That's for you, you little devil. I've seen you watching me the last while and you know what? I feel a connection with you\". She smiled again. I looked everywhere but at her, my gaze landing on the can in the hope the cool drink would assuage the burning in my cheeks.\n\nIt read \"Bel-Shamaroth, Devourer of Innocence and Corrupter of the Young\". The feeling that something inside grew unbearable as the first spiked horns burst from my arms. The diminishing humanity in me looked at Hope with pain and confusion, the new force looked at her and saw her as she really was. Her wings burst behind her and the radiance of her halo burnt my eyes as she slowly drew a flaming sword.\n\n\"I'm sorry, cutey. I don't think there'll be a second date\".", "I ordered my meal and coke, staring dreamily at Joe, the server. I'd come here every day since he started working here, he was so dreamy. \n\n\nHe came back to my table with a coke and a glass, setting them down in front of me. Then I noticed the bottle had my name on the label. I started up at him and grinned, \"How'd you know that was my name?\" \n\n\"I didn't.\" he shrugged and walked off. \n\nI sighed and waited for my meal. That'll teach me for getting my hopes up. " ]	2

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