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] God and Satan get together for a nice dinner - only problem, it's not where one would expect....	[ "Over the clatter of dishes and small-talk at the Johnsonville Denny's, God sits at a small corner table.\n\nIn her handheld mirror, she quickly checks herself out for the third time, fluffs her fro and reapplies her Candy Yum Yum lipstick. He's late, as usual.\n\nThe waiter, a greasy looking teen with a mustache that looked a little like a thin trail of dirt married to his upper lip, came over again.\n\n\"Still waiting?\" he asked. \"Yeah,\" he should be here soon, he just sent me a text,\" she lied. \n\nAs the waiter shuffled away, she couldn't help but notice a pale brown stain on the back of his khakis, right at the seam.\n\nJust then, she heard a door slamming outside. Trying to subtly peep through the blinds, she saw the cherry red BMW, radiant as ever.\n\nHe walked in, and all eyes were on him. The group of teen girls sitting in the booth by the door, who couldn't seem to shut the fuck up about Taylor Swift and birth control the entire night were suddenly speechless. \n\nUshered to the table by the grimy server, he was all smiles.\n\n\"My god,\" he said, beaming, \"Nothing has changed. You look amazing.\"\n\nHe sized her up, and she smiled, uncomfortable in her spanx but happy he didn't notice. \"Good to see you Luce,\" she said nervously.\n\nHe looked good though. He always had. The perfect man, charming, funny, smart, well-travelled. But a wanderer, selfish, cold, cruel.\n\nIt was a shame their son looked just like him. Sometimes, she felt he acted just like his father too.\n\n\"How is he?\" he asked, a detached but predictable question.\n\n\"He is good,\" she said, adding at the last minute, \"adjusting very well to Yale.\" She didn't know why she added that last part, but she wanted to brag, to throw in his face everything she had done for their son the last 14 years.\n\n\"Oh awesome,\" he said blankly. \"I'm gonna try and make it down there soon,\" he said, running a hand through his charcoal black hair. She knew it was a lie, he hated the Northeast, the food, the weather. He told her that, actually texted her that, the day their son was born, when she asked why he couldn't make it to the hospital for the delivery. He even punctuated the line with an \"LOL\".\n\nSnapping her right out of her nostalgia, he spoke again. \"We need to finalize the divorce,\" he said, grey eyes steely.\n\nThe direct approach startled her. He hadn't even touched the menu, even though she knew he would probably just get a garden salad, but wait until she ordered her cheeseburger to really make her feel shitty. Then he'd kick off his usual lecture about eating right, going to the gym, and quinoa. Then he'd bring up the divorce. \n\nWaves of rage flew through her mind, the last 14 years swirled in her head. The infidelity, the lies, the miscarriages, the month long business trips. How he chided her all these years, saying \"Not all of us can be God, honey. Some of us are lesser beings.\"\n\nHe was so smug. She hated him.\n\nBut her response shocked her. \n\n\"I love you Luce,\" she choked out, from a place between desperation and loneliness. \"Let's try, for our son, to make this work. You've missed so much and he needs you, we--I need you.\"\n\nAll her cards on the table, she felt vulnerable, naked, weak, mortal.\n\nHe looked at her, perfectly serious, unphased. Reaching for her hand across the table, he was deadset.\n\n\"Just sign the papers honey.\"\n\nEdit: reworked.", "God swung through the fresh synapses and undulations, searching for his dinner companion.\n\nWhere is he hiding this time? thought God, I know this is the agreed upon meeting place.\n\nGod sprinted through the frontal lobe and the rest of the cortex; he looped through the cerebellum, and then - finally! - there was the devil, huddled in the amygdala.\n\n\"God!\" called the devil, \"So glad you could join me! Come, pull up a neuron!\" \n\nGod sighed. \"I do enjoy these monthly chats of ours-\"\n\n\"Philosophical discussions!\" interrupted the devil.\n\n\"Yes. Well, I'm a bit surprised that you've chosen Jimmy's brain again this month. I did not think that you would be eager to return to such an innocent mind. What could you possibly get out of such irreproachable young thoughts?\"\n\nThe devil smiled. \"Not for long. Innocence always fades. I like to be there when it does.\"\n\n\"And you think that will be today?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the devil, \"it is his first day of school. He was home schooled and now he's joining a \"middle school,\" I believe they call it.\"\n\nNow God smiled. \"That's not necessarily a bad thing. There are good teachers and friendly people in many schools. I'm sure Jimmy will find his path.\"\n\n\"That's an interesting theory, God,\" said the devil, derisively. \"Let's listen in, shall we?\"\n\nBoth God and the devil chomped down on Jimmy's amygdala and settled into his perceptions. The motivations that Jimmy felt came through very strongly in this part of the brain, being what it was. \n\nJimmy got off the bus. He was walking up the school steps. He wanted to be home, still sleeping, and he wanted to meet his new classmates. He was looking forward to his new math and history classes. Suddenly there was a huge push from the side and he fell painfully to the pavement. \n\n\"Watch where you're walking, faggot!\" yelled a boy twice his size. Jimmy was shocked. Why? he thought, bewildered. He couldn't understand why the other boy had just pushed him down the steps, and he was in pain from the fall. Jimmy sat there, staring at his scuffed hands and elbow, trying to make sense of the situation in his mind. Maybe it was an accident, and this boy was just a little - \n\n\"Look, the faggot's a fukin retard too!\" Another voice sounded from the school's lawn, \"Bet you're waitin to suck my dick, aren't you faggot?\" \n\nJimmy stumbled, finally reaching his feet, and ran into the school. He was met with laughter as he stumbled in and ran to the nearest person for help, asking if they knew where a first aid kit was. He felt he was surrounded by scornful looks and rejection. \n\n\"Here it is,\" said the devil, \"I can feel it coming.\"\n\nWhy are they all looking at me that way? Jimmy thought, What did I do? He walked up to a friendly looking girl at her locker who was talking with a friend. He tapped her on the shoulder.\n\n\"Excuse me, may I ask where the first aid kit -\"\n\n\"Eeeew! Get your gross hand off of me, freak!\" \n\n\"Hey!\" Jimmy remembered that voice. It was the boy from outside. He turned around, terrified of another confrontation, but all he saw was a fist. And then darkness.\n\nWhen Jimmy came to, the school hall was empty. The right side of his jaw ached. He stumbled to his feet for the second time that morning, just in time to see a man holding some file folders come around a corner. He must be a teacher! Finally, someone to help me! \n\n\"Excuse me!\" called Jimmy, \"I'm trying to find my math class, room 104? And I think I need some first aid.\"\n\nThe man rolled his eyes. \"Skipping your first class of the year, are you?\" The teacher came closer. \"Oh, and you've been fighting, have you? We'll be having a chat with the vice principle about that. Come with me, now!\"\n\nJimmy hung his head. He couldn't think of anything else to say, or any reason to say it. Instead, he thought, I hate myself.\n\n\"There!\" shouted the devil, \"Oooh, that didn't take long at all!\" \n\nGod sighed. \"No, it did not. I guess you \"win\" this one. Well, I'll be seeing you.\"\n\n\"What, full already?\" mocked the devil. \"Things are just getting started here.\"\n\n\"No,\" said God, \"I don't think this place is to my taste after all.\" And he left.", "How are you?\n\nGreat. Thanks for the invite. I'm assuming you want a brief?\n\nYes. Lucifer. Tell me. \n\nWell, as you know the non-believers are growing. I can't even affect them. It's frustrating. I mean at least the believers respect me.\n\nI know, it's a problem even for me. That's why I invited you here. You know what will happen when everyone stops believing right?\n\nNo, pops. You never told me. What happens?\n\nWe end. We cease. We stop. No longer will we have power over this domain. The good and evil stop. \n\nShit. You could have told me this before. I would have worked harder.\n\nDon't blame yourself. Truthfully I didn't try as hard as I could.\n\nDamn. I was wondering why you brought out the good linen. What do we do? Hit em with another flood! That'll do the job!\n \n\nIt won't work. The skeptics found out how I work. They debunk belief and substitute it with better scientific explanations. I won't kill them again. I'm tired. The apathy. Cruelty. The pure cynicism in the world. It's literally killing me. Killing you Lucifer.\n\nSo what? We just give up? This isn't why you brought me here. I won't. Maybe you'll give up. But I'll show those little shits.\n\nI never thought I would give up. But maybe it's time for us to move on, the world has. We are no longer relevant\n\n\nEdit: Read prompt wrong but oh well." ]	3
"Mr. Oswald, were you the only one?" "If you mean shooter, then yes. There were others involved in planning and carrying that out, but I was the only one that fired any shots."	[WP] You can bring back any deceased person and ask them only one question, which they have to answer truthfully.	[ "I stood in front of the plexiglass, shaking. \"Do it.\" The white-coated assistant nodded and hit the final button, surging the machine.\n\nShe jerked, spasmed and flailed. \"She'll only have a minute.\"\n\n\"I know, I did the math,\" I snapped.\n\n\"Baby?\" I asked, hand on the window. She looked up. Those angular features, that long brown hair, perfect blue eyes. She smiled the smile of a thousand sleepless nights. \"Kitten, are you okay?\"\n\nShe nodded, loopy like that night she was sick and I gave her cough medicine. She smiled wide like that night I proposed and waved like our first date, so many memories ago.\n\n\"I don't have much time, I'm so sorry.\" My hand balled into useless fists, my body filling with the tears to come. \"Will you say it? One last time, please.\"\n\n\"Of course. I love you.\" \n\n\nAnd then she was gone. She was there, but the girl was gone. I dropped to my knees, impotent with my useless sobs and dry heaves, filled with my heavy sorrow.", "He hobbled slowly through the lobby. He nearly fell over climbing the steps, but the attendant rushed over to help him. \n\n\"I'm not allowed to go in with you sir. Do you think you'll be okay? I can get a wheelchair brought up for you if you'd like.\"\n\n\"I've been walking on my own two feet for eighty-three years! I don't need no goddamned wheelchair!\"\n\n\"I didn't mean to offend you sir. Do you know who you want to see allready?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Who is it, if you don't mind me asking?\"\n\n\"I do mind, but if you really have to know I'm going to see John F. Kennedy.\"\n\n\"Really? I wanted to see one of the presidents too, but I picked Washington. What do you plan to ask him?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\n\"Nothing?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\nThe attendant looked confused for a few seconds, but then opened the door and motioned the old man in.\n\nAs the door clicked shut the old man laughed to himself. He couldn't wait to kill that bastard again.", "\nI have been falling for what feels like an eternity. Stars, planets, and entire galaxies whiz by in the blink of an eye but I’m never dizzy, never nauseous, not even bored. Some days I let my hair fly and whip my face and then others I tie it back into a bun with my hair tie so I have a full view of the miracles taking place around me. Every now and then I’ll drop the hair tie but it comes back; it always does. It usually falls onto my face randomly while I’m sleeping and it always causes me to ponder; does that prove that the universe is a complete circle or is that just some God helping me out. As far as heavens go, I can’t complain considering the amount of innocent and wide eyed stars I’ve seen born. You never do get used to the amazement in a star’s eyes when they’re old and wrinkled, believing they had seen it all and then Blam! They are a brand new Red Giant full of potential and heat! Then seeing the materials surrounding transform into a nebula and watching the metamorphosis from white dwarf to black dwarf; it is a beautiful miracle. \n\nI blink and take a deep breath as I breathe in the cosmos and my eyes begin to water as an all too familiar cinnamon scent fills the air. I wipe my eyes and cough to regain composure as my eyes flicker open. Suddenly the moons, the stars, the galaxies; they’re gone and I’m standing on a concrete floor. I look around fearfully wondering where my paradise has gone and then I see him.\n\nDannie looks at me, pale as ever with his signature smile and bright blue eyes. “Hey Babe,” he says casually as if we had just seen each other recently. I put my hand to my heart trying to feel its beat and then run to Dannie embracing him in a hug. As I cry he chuckles, “I’m sorry about the cinnamon smell, you haven’t been around to yell at me for a little while.” I hug him tighter and reply through tears, “I love cinnamon.” He laughs and a heavy gust of wind blows into us nearly knocking us off our feet. Dannie gives me a slight shake, puts on a serious face, and says, “We only have a little while and I need you to help me, okay?” I smile and nod quickly and quietly; I’d do anything for him, he knew that.\n\n He can’t help but smile back; he must’ve missed me too. He holds me close and then says, “Babe, I’ve spent hundreds of dollars, searched numerous continents, and have sought out thousands of people just to get to you. When you left, so many answers left with you. I was just the figure head but you had the real power, I was completely lost and have been attempting to navigate my way ever since. Our entire relationship every single time we were together, you snapped a picture…” his voice trails off shakily. I look down sensing the pain in his heart. He looks at me and continues, “I searched the house up and down, I’ve asked all our relatives, and no one knows about those pictures. I need something to remember you by please . . . Where are those pictures?” \n\nI look at him perplexed. The same Dannie who used to groan and whine whenever the flash of my camera went off, now wanted to see my excellent photography work? I smile deceptively and say, “I could tell you or I can lie.” Dannie blinks twice in awe at my response and then replies, “No, please! I am begging you. I need this.” I hug him sadly, in the entire time that I had known him, he had never seemed so broken and so serious. I answer, “I was just saying it was a possibility honey. I will tell you the truth; all those pictures, all of our memories are safely bundled away in a scrapbook on top of the ceiling tiles above the fridge.” He shakes his head with a half-smile, “Why would you hide it?” I shrug and answer, “You told me it was creepy to take so many pictures plus it doubled as a diary. There is a whole bunch of love letters to you interspersed. Thank god I won’t have to face you after that.” He laughs heartily and says, “I’ve missed you babe.”\n\n I hug him tightly one last time as I feel another wind gust. This one is powerful and when I open my eyes, I am falling once again. I hug myself as tears rain down my face and I try to savor the cinnamon scent on my clothes. \n", "I clasped my hands together to keep myself from biting at the skin around my nails. I was fucking nervous. I'd waited for this moment ever since it was a cheap news item on CNN. Most people were immensely skeptical at first, and wasn't hard to see why. \nScientists at Harvard studied brain activity and somehow found a way to bring people who died \"back\", at least as a hologram of sorts, but with the full capacity of their minds. There was a lot of speculation that they had pretty much found a way of recapturing a freed soul, putting it back into something visible, audible, and communing with it. I always had a feeling it was much more black and white than that, purely scientific like reading a software program. That, or it was just a bullshit ruse. \nThe biggest flaw in the process they could only keep them for approximately 32 seconds. After years of trials, the brilliant Harvard scientists had never been able to reattain the brain activity of an already-read person again. \nThe hologram in the center of the room flickered to life and I saw her standing there, probably as she remembered herself. Not achingly thin and sickly like she had been at the end, but beautiful and rosy at the cheeks. She wore her blonde hair down, falling over her shoulders. Diana didn't seem startled to suddenly be standing in the room, didn't seem confused. She just looked at me, and my skepticism grew. \n\"I've really missed you, Dev. But I've been watching you.\" She looked sheepish, and I knew why. \"I'm really proud of you for passing the bar exam. And I think you should ask Teri out. You guys have a lot of chemistry, you know?\" She wrung her hands out in front of her. \nPause. We'll get back to our little talk with my dead wife. Let's talk about death and dying and what it entails. So, when people get sick and they die, they suddenly become saints in the eyes of everyone around them. You hear all their best qualities, and suddenly their demons don't exist anymore. Nobody ever says at a funeral, \"Yeah, it's too bad she died, but she was kind of a bitch.\" No, no, they were \"brave\" and \"always smiling\" and \"cheerful, even at the end\". \nI found her emails to him when I cleaned out her laptop before I sold in on Craigslist. It shouldn't have surprised me. Our relationship was rocky from the start. She had always been manipulative and dishonest, I just had a hard time realizing it until she was gone. She told him she loved him. She told him she was leaving me for him, that she was only with me because I would be a rich lawyer and when we divorced, she would get half of everything I owned. Then they would run away together in Happy-Asshole-Cheaters Land. \nIt really helped me get over the grieving process, that's for sure. \nUnpause. There she stood, that gorgeous, magical bitch and ruiner of lives. And even though I hated her, I still loved her, and I wanted to know just one thing. The nature of the program meant it would be impossible for her to lie, and the clock was ticking. 10 seconds remained. \n\"Did you ever love me?\" \nHer flickering ghost looked me dead in the eyes. \"No.\"", "As I progressed from the waiting room to the interview room, I was over come with emotion. I wanted to ask so many questions but as I spotted the silhouette of the tattered man I realised that there was only one that mattered.\n\nAs he saw me he moved from the corner revealing the face of my father, plastered with a huge smile and at the point of tears. For a moment it felt like the last 6 months of therapy was a dream and I had woken up but as my eyes followed his body down my nightmare was confirmed as reality.\n\nThe chunks of flesh that were missing from his torso was a sight i was all to familiar with. I recognised them from the hellish dreams I had every night, always accompanied by the same two words. Slow down.\n\nAs I tried to speak my words failed me. I felt isolated and alone as I faced reality and the cold feeling of regret which had been gnawing away at me for months finally took over.\n\nIt was then that I was snapped back to reality by the oddly warm embrace of my father. He held me in his arms and whispered to me:\n\"they told me what your question is, you don't need to speak\" \n\n\"The answer is no. I don't blame you for what happened to me that day. But... ever since I have watched over you through your struggle, and i've had to watch you toss and turn in your sleep because you can't accept reality. As science fiction as this seems right now it's real and you have to get through it because no matter how much you worry for me I worry ten times more for you. so no matter what you do don't throw away your life because you don't feel you deserve it. Make something of your life, make me proud and move on because the only thing worse than me being dead is you not being alive.\"\n\nI stood there like a deer in the headlights. Stunned as I slowly processed what was happening and what was said but as much as it touched me on a deep level I refused to believe it. I was driving, how could he not hate me. But that didn't matter. Tomorrow I would have to leave and get on with my life, spending each day in the shadow of my guilt.\n\nAs I opened my mouth to speak a bell chimed 3 times and signaled the end of our time as my father vanished without a trace, no spectacular flash of light, just a silent end, unable to ever return to the living.\n\n\nAnd so I will always have the question tugging on my shirt holding me back. I asked did he blame me but in hindsight that was wrong. I needed to know if it was my fault. \n\nAnd that is why I'm leaving this note so you can know it was my fault I got in this situation and I only can blame myself.\n\nI'll make sure to ask the right questions when I see him.", "\"Are you sure you wish to bring her back? She may not know who you are.\"\n\n\"Ye-yeah, I'm sure,\" I said to the voice coming from the intercom.\n\nThe scientists turned the machine on, a faint, yellow glow came from the barrel of it. The lights in the room dimmed, and there was a spark.\n\nHer eyes jolted open. She began moving, realizing what was going on.\n\n\"Who brought me ba-\" she began asking, when her eyes met mine. I didn't know what to say. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes, one fell down her left cheek.\n\n\"Hey,\" I said.\n\nShe didn't speak. Her eyes were locked on me, and mine on her. My heart forced itself into my throat.\n\nShe embraced me, and I couldn't hold it any longer. I broke down, like a child who lost their puppy.\n\n\"I missed you so much,\" she told me. I cried even harder.\n\n\"I'm sorry. I should have been there. I'm so sorry.\"\n\nShe pushed me away slightly, and then she smiled, which broke me even more.\n\n\"We don't have much time left...\" the intercom spoke.\n\nThe question I thought I would ask her now escaped my mind. I didn't have anything to say. She looked into my eyes, and flicked my arm, just like she use to when she was alive. \n\n\"One minute left until resurrection complete.\"\n\nI looked at her again. My mouth was open, but no words came out.\n\n\"It's okay,\" she told me.\n\nMy question still wasn't coming back. I wanted to ask her so much, and that question would have been perfect.\n\nShe was right here. I felt like she was was back in my life, but I knew it wouldn't last. I could only think of one thing to ask her.\n\n\"Was... was I a good dad?\"\n\nShe leaned on me.\n\n\"The best I could've had.\"", "How I wept when she passed. The light of my life had faded. Each evening seemed dull and grim without her. The seasons changed again and again but everything seemed the same. Grey, bleak... empty.\n\nI withdrew from everything. Work, my friends even my family. I never left the house. I would spend each day in a daze, just mindlessly surfing the web. It numbed the pain somehow.\n\nOne dark night while I was browsing it happened. I had taken a triple dose of my anti-depressants with half a bottle of cheap whiskey as a chaser - so I wasn't really thinking too clearly.\n\nI went to a porn site - a real disgusting one. Sick stuff was all that could cut through the numb haze of my life. And then a curious pop-up opened.\n\n\"This is your one chance to ask her,\" it read, in bold red letters. \"Type your question here and she will reply.\"\n\nI don't know if it was the pills, the whiskey or just sheer desperation but I believed it. I somehow knew I had been given a second chance.\n\n\"Eveline,\" I typed slowly, my fingers tripping over each letter, \"Have you seen my car keys?\"", "\"Hi.\" \n\n\"Hello, there.\"\n\n\"You know, you're not as tall as I imagined.\"\n\n\"I get that alot.\"\n\n\"I guess the question on my mind, really, so many peoples' mind...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Are you really who you say you are?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"I don't know if I can believe that.\"\n\n\"I only ask you to have faith. If you do, I'll see you when I return.\"\n\n\"Okay. I guess that's what I needed to hear.\"", "\"Hi dad.\" \n\n\"Hi son. Just hurry and ask before our time cuts short.\"\n\nThe son took a shuttered breath, as the weight of his question pressed out a tear. \"Why? Why did you do it?\" \n\nThe father put on a grimaced face. \"...You have to be more specific, so—\" \n\n\"Why did you kill yourself!?\" the son exclaimed, as the tears came over him. \n\nThe father shook his head back and forth, as his eyes started to water up. \"Son...\" His voice started to shake. \"You know your mother and I love you, so very much. We wouldn't do anything if we didn't think it was the best for you. I—\" \n\n\"Just answer the question!\" the son yelled. \n\nThe father started sobbing, guilt forming in his chest. \"I wish you didn't ask me that—\" \n\n\"You left us! You ditched us!\" the son screamed with the mixed force of love and hatred. \"You took the coward's way out, and left mom.. left mom alone! to raise 3 kids—\" \n\nBeep \"One minute.\" the voice said. \n\nThe father mustered whatever strength he had left. \"I wish I could take this secret to the grave with me, because I know you would be much better off.\" \n\n\"Dad...\" the son whispered feebly. \n\nThe father wiped the tears from his face, acknowledging what was going to happen. \"The rules say I have answer truthfully.\" He took his final deep breath, and looked at his son in the eyes, implanting the image of his son forever in his head. \n\nBeep \"10 seconds.\" \n\n\"Why...\"\n\n\"Truth is... I didn't kill myself, son. Your mother slipped me those pills.\"" ]	9
	[WP] A madman rips the tag off of a mattress	[ "It had truly never meant to escalate into this, but yet it had. None of them had any idea about the true consequences of their actions, but yet they had foolishly done so without heeding it's warning.\n\nArt and Sam were two good friends who had just become freshmen in high school. Of course, they had adopted the same natural arrogant mentality that the now-upperclassmen had their freshman year. Which is why they decided to play the ultimate party game while Art was hanging out at Sam's house; Truth or Dare.\n\n\"Sam, since it's your house I think it's only fair that you start.\" Art had said, pausing in between thoughts so as to create a sense of tension. \"Truth or Dare?\"\n\nSam snickered. \"Dare, obviously. Seriously, what do you think, I'd back out like a geek or something?\" Sam said with a slightly nervous laugh, realizing that his very fate rested in the hands of his friend sitting opposite him in the dark room they had played in. Art rested his head on both hands which were propped up by his pale arms as Sam awaited the inevitable challenge that he was required to partake in. \"Very well...\" Art said with a dastardly grin on his face. \"I dare you... to rip the tag off of your mattress!\"\n\nSam froze upon hearing these words. He had always had a fear of the things, but he had never had the guts to tell his friend Art. In fact, all tags bothered Sam. Price tags, the GAME Tag, and now he was asked to overcome his fears just for a simple game. A bead of sweat slowly descended from the young 9th grader's face. \"No.\"\n\nArt looked at his friend in awe. Did he just break the sacred unspoken rule of Truth or Dare? He couldn't believe it. It was such a stupid, small dare that Art had figured even the babiest of the class before him could have done it. \"Oh, don't be such a baby!\" Art said with a slight tone of malice as he grabbed the tag on the mattress. \"Here, watch this.\"\n\nAs if time itself had stopped the tag was slowly being removed from the mattress. Sam could not believe his friend, and he didn't have time to believe him as cop cars pulled up to the house. A geared SWAT member burst through the window in the room that they were playing in, as fragments of glass flew past the air. The SWAT member grabbed Art and jumped back through the window, grabbing onto the rope ladder of a helicopter all while restraining the small child attempting to break free. What part of DO NOT REMOVE THIS TAG did they not understand?", "Winston was institutionalized at St. Elijah's Asylum for the Mentally Impaired, where Winston would remain for a very long time. Winston always questioned, though Winston was very irrational when Winston didn't get a proper answer. Why were self-destruct buttons big and red if they weren't meant to be pressed in most conditions? Really, why were self-destruct buttons of any importance at all? Why are people dictated by self-imposed laws? Winston rarely got sufficient answers beyond \"suspension of disbelief\", so it was no surprise when Winston's irrationality got the best of Winston and caused Winston to go insane.\n\nWinston sat on his dove-white bed with dove-white walls and dove-white floor and dove-white ceiling. Winston was calm at this moment, though Winston's curiosity got the best of him on this occasion. Winston searched for something that wasn't dove-white in Winston's room, and that's when Winston found an off-white label on the bottom of Winston's bed. Winston saw that Winston would be under penalty of law if Winston removed this tag. Winston questioned why Winston would be under penalty of law.\n\nWinston got no answer.\n\nIn Winston's rage, Winston tore the tag off of Winston's mattress. Winston was shocked at how easily it came off, especially since it was illegal for Winston to do so.\n\nWinston hid Winston's torn tag in Winston's clothing and, at first, felt very proud of Winston's person. Winston broke the law and was getting away with it! Winston decided to look at Winston's dove-white room again. But Winston's dove-white mind was invaded by that off-white tag. Why wasn't Winston being punished? Winston worried that Winston was being delayed on punishment to torture Winston's mind. Winston questioned the gap in punishment.\n\nWinston got no answer.\n\nWinston decided to Winston's person to punish Winston for Winston's misdeeds. Winston bashed his head into the dove-white walls. Winston kicked and screamed at Winston for misbehaving. Winston splattered Winston's blood over the walls. Winston would never be calm. Winston needed to be cleaned up, to be punished. Winston needed to kill Winston.\n===================================\nA knock on the stock-locked portal to the Styx-like hell of St. Elijah's Asylum prompted the curmudgeonly caretaker to unlock the door's ridiculous amount of barriers and respond to the out-of-place urgency from the outside. He was met with the solid and stoic face of a faceless SWAT team member. The shielded man was just about to read the riot act when he noticed the hubbub behind the increasingly-wrathful caretaker. The SWAT leader caught, just barely within eye's reach, a blood-stained mattress tag that contrasted against the dove-white floor. He smiled inwardly and hurriedly apologized to the caretaker, tipping him with a Benjamin to keep on the quiet. The caretaker slyly responded with acknowledgement as he routinely shut his doors. As he did so, he heard five helicopters taking off. He wondered.", "The tag on the tempurpedic tickled his toe as he tossed and turned, letting out a tumultuous sigh. He kicked his feet and cocked his head with a contorted grimace. Sitting up, he examined the culprit, which encroached itself onto his side of the mattress. He pushed it over the mattress edge and watched as it sprung back to its original position. Tactical folding did little more to tame the polyester pest. He twisted and tugged at the tag with progressively increasing force and fervency, until his attempts to liberate the out-of-place parasite from his pallet resembled a series of convulsive shocks. A last-ditch effort to yank the tag away ended with a slip of the fingers and a recoil of the first into the end of his nose, followed by an emotive curse. \n\nHe brushed the blood away from his nose and catapulted his hefty frame from his queen-sized cushion and raced to the cabinet. Though not before stubbing his toe on the door and emotively cursing again. Reaching in, he pulled out the scissors -- his silver saviours -- and hobbled back towards the bedroom, wiping more blood from his nose. He positioned the tag between the two blades and prepared to deliver the final blow.\n\nAs he pressed the handles together, the tag gracefully accommodated itself between the dulled blades without so much as a tear. He tried again, and then several times more. He hacked and sawed at the thing, but each time, the result was the same.\n\nA deep and deafening scream bellowed from his chest as the scissors glided across the room and shattered the bedroom window. Overcome with a total lack of irreverence for all things in life, he cursed the day several times more. Brandishing the passion of a maniacal man with nothing to lose, he set forth to rid himself of this fibre nemesis and cast it back into the deepest caverns of hell.\n\nSeveral minutes later, the doorbell rang and there was a knock at the door. \"Sir, we've received calls about a disturbance here. Is everything okay?\" The door opened, and the Police Officer stared with a confounded glaze. In front of him, a man with a bloodied hand and nose limped by the door, wielding a machete in his right hand. He held up his left hand to reveal a large, white, polyester tag. \"I'm sorry, Officer. I ripped the tag off of my mattress.\"", "I ran my fingers across the matres, feeling it's softness. This matres was a huge step up from my last one. My last matres was all beat up and lumpy, when I sat on it I felt like I was sitting on a mound of potatos. Sitting on this matres, on the other hand, felt like I was sitting on a matres made of clouds.\n\nMy fingers run across a tag, I instinctively try and pull it out. I have always been the fidgety type, whenever something falls into my hands within a few minutes most of the loose ends come peeled or pried off. Of course, this gets me in a lot of trouble when I borrow pens and the like, but this matres is mine, there should be no consequences.\n\nI was immediately proven wrong however, when suddenly the lights in my room dimmed, the room started filling \nwith a sort of red smoke and I caught a whiff of brimstone as a monstrous demonic figure suddenly appeared \nin front of me.\n\n\"FOOLISH MORTAL\" he shouted at me. \"I AM THE MATRESS DEMON, AND YOU HAVE COMMITED THE MOST DISPICABLE AND VILE ACT POSSIBLE TO A MATTRESS\" to this I meekly responded \"B-b-b-but I didn't pee on it or anything\" the demon swiftly replied \"NO, WHAT YOU HAVE DONE IS FAR WORSE, DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?\" I shook my head weekly. The demon than knelt in front of me till his face was level with mine, I could smell his breath, it smelt like wet matres he said to me \"you have taken the tag of a matres, AND FOR THAT YOU MUST PAY!!!\" his last words accompanied with a gale force of wet mattress breath that knocked me backwards. I eventually managed to squirm out the words \"pay what?\" to which the demon stood back up, and said. \"THE FEE FOR YOUR CRIMES IS about three fiddy\" It was at around this point that I noticed that the demon was about 8 stories tall and a crustacean from the paleolithic era. I responded \"Goddammit I ain't giving you no tree fiddy\" after the monster went back too the lake from whence it came I quickly found the tag and taped it back to my mattress, hoping noone else would notice.", "Oh, now you've done it! Thought you'd be clever, huh? Thought you'd be a rebellious, little prick? Thought all the girls would come falling after you, 'cause you're such a bad boy? Well, I'll tell you one thing! You ain't ever gonna see another girl again!\n\nThey're gonna come for you, now, boy. They're gonna come here and drag you kicking and screaming out the front door. I knew when my husband hired you that you'd be nothing but trouble, but he told me to give you a chance. \"No family,\" he said, \"Not a friend in the world.\" Well, I'll never say I told you so.\n\nHere's the thing I don't get: are you crazy, or are you just stupid? 'Cause the stupid ones are excusable; they don't know nothing about nothing, so one little mattress tag doesn't make a difference for them in the long run. They'd've died before twenty, anyway, ran in front of a bus or fallen off of a building or some rot like that. \n\nBut the crazy ones? They know better. They just don't care. They're the ones that are a'laughing when the strictest fist of the government smacks down upon them. I bet you'll be one of them. I bet, when those great, big government agents get here, you'll spit in their faces. As they're poking you with those long, sharp knives of theirs, I bet you'll be smirking. I bet, when they slice the skin off your ribs, well- I bet you'll make some crack about the biggest agent's dear, dead mum.\n\nAnd you've ripped the tag off the nicest mattress in the whole shop! That was gonna be my husband's and mine! We deserved after what we went through, putting up with you!\n\nAh, well. It won't be long now before they get here, now. And you'll be in for it, then." ]	5
	[WP] We look up to the sky one night and see no stars.	[ "A nice, quiet day turned in to evening. The sun moved closer to the horizon. Soon, the first evening stars would be visible. As the sun went lower and lower, people started looking at the sky for start. Not a single one could be seen yet, although there should be one or two visible by this point.\n\n\"It's such a beautiful sunset, Dave, isn't it.\", a female voice said. \n\"Yes, beautiful indeed, Mary.\", Dave said. \"The sky is so red around it.\" \n\"Let's stay out and watch the stars!\", Mary then said. \n\"Sure, we can do that. I loved watching the stars when I was a kid. You should see some already now.\", Dave said.\n\nTogether, Dave and Mary started looking for stars. The sun dove behing the horizon, and it got darker. Yet they didn't find any stars.\n\n\"Now this is strange.\", Dave said. \"I haven't found any. It's perfectly clear weather, there should be nothing blocking them.\" \n\"Where have they gone?\", Mary asked. She continued looking around, until she noticed a spot of light in the sky. She pointed at it, asking: \"Hey, Dave, I think I see one.\" \nDave turns around and looks at the light spot. \n\"That's not a star.\", he says. \n\"How do you know it's not a star? Then what is it?\", Mary asks. \n\"It's not a star. It's glowing, it's not blinking. And no star is so close it'd appear that big. It's just Venus, it's often seen in the evening.\" \n\nThe evening went on. The sky darkened, and the moon rose higher up. It stood alone on the sky, glowing down on the Earth. Mary and Dave stood and wondered what has happened to the stars. They are confused, and just stand there, searching for any stars. They only see the moon, Venus, and some fainter planets. Then, Dave's phone rings. He picks it up from his pocket. \n\"Hello?\" \n\"Hi, this is Matthew. Have you seen the sky?\" \n\"Yes, I have. All the stars are gone.\" \n\"I know. I just read the news. They say even the scientists cannot find any stars, not close, not far away. They're all gone, save for the sun.\" \n\"Do they have any explanation?\" \n\"No, everyone is as clueless as we are.\" \n\"Okay.\" \n\"Hey, I've got to go now. Let's talk later, bye, Dave.\" \n\"Bye.\" \n\nHe puts the phone back in his pocket. \n\"Who was it?\", Mary asked. \n\"It was Matthew. He told me that the stars, all of them, are gone. Not even the scientists could find any?\", Dave said. \n\"What?\", Mary said. \"Every single star? Gone?\" \n\"It appears so. Neither can we see any to prove them wrong.\", Dave says. \n\"What does this mean?\" \n\"I don't know. But I think we should not fear.\" \n\"How do you mean?\" \n\"I just thought of this famous Swedish poem I once read. It went like this: \nEn gång slockna alla stjärnor, men de lysa alltid utan skräck.\" \n\"What does it mean in English?\", Mary asked. \n\"It means: \nOne day, every star will die, but they will always shine without fear,\"", "“I used to talk with them, you know.”\n\nI glanced up from my tablet. Harmony had sprawled herself into the silkgrass, a shadow on the hillside. She was staring skyward, her expression masked by the night. \n\n“Who’re you talking about, Harm?”\n\nHarmony raised her arms in a grandiose arc. “The stars.”\n\nI sighed and returned to work. “You never talked with them, Harm. Stars don’t speak. You talked to them.”\n\nThe grass rustled as Harmony shifted to regard me. I tried to ignore her. Despite the darkness, I felt her defiant stare pierce the veil. “They answered me.”\n\nI didn’t want to play this game, so I dragged a few vectors onto the map.\n\n“They were perfect listeners,” Harmony continued. “I could tell them anything and they would happily respond with their light.”\n\nI resisted the urge to gag. Harmony’s penchant for romantic cliché was legendary.\n\n“At least, I thought they were happy.”\n\n“Balls of gas, Harm. No sapience. They wouldn’t care one way or the other if you stopped talking to them.”\n\n“Maybe. But in your mind, we’re just wads of spongy carbon. I know that I care. They made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”\n\n“You’re not alone, Harmony. You’ve got me.”\n\nHarmony didn’t respond. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was time. I slipped my tablet in my purse and dusted off my skirt.\n\n“You have the box, Harm?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“It’s time to open it.”\n\nA faint snap echoed as the box unlatched. A glowing sliver cut through the seam. Harmony shook the box and a flock of fireflies fluttered out. Throughout the meadow, dozens of similar boxes opened. Fountains of fairy lights filled the field. I could finally see Harmony’s face, a firefly passed by and her cheek glistened. We stared at the scene before us, and I held my sister’s hand.\n\n“Think we’ll ever find mom?” Harmony whispered.\n\n“Of course. I just got some new leads.”\n\n“Good.”\n\nI strained a smile. I watched the fireflies a little longer and, despite my better judgment, felt a wish slip through my heart. I heard no answer. \n", "The first time a star disappeared, the Earth went crazy.\n\nThere was no explosion. No supernova. Not a single warning. Just a big bunch of nothingness that used to be filled.\n\nScientists were baffled. Not even the smartest and most brilliant had an explanation that wasn't \"well, it just happened.\" Thousands of conspiracy theories accused the U.S Government, the U.S military, NASA, Kim Jong-Un, even Kim Jong-Il - you name it, someone had labelled them a no-good, dirty star stealer. \n\nIt didn't stop there, though. A few months later, another one blinked out. And another. And another. Faster and faster. They simply died. Disappeared. Every week, astronomers were renaming constellations from \"Orion's Belt\" to \"Orion's Beltbuckle\" and then to \"The Space Where Orion's Pants are Held Up\". \n\nEvery night, the sky got a little darker.\n\nIt's been three years since the first. And tonight, it's pitch black.\n\nNo stars. No moon. Not even a goddamn comet. \n\nI light a candle on my porch. Ever since the stars had started dying, I'd made it a habit to set up a creaky fold-up chair and count the losses every night. Say a prayer. Remember the brief (yet unimaginably long) lives of Arcturus, of Alpha Centauri, of HR 5171. Gone so young. Rest in peace. You deserved better.\n\nNo stars to count, tonight. Nothing left in the sky.\n\nI feel a cold wind wash over me, and the candle in my hands sizzles out with a soft hiss. I can't see it, but I know. The final star.\n\nI bow my head and pray for our sun." ]	3
	[WP] You have been stranded, in a submarine, for 9 months. When you can finally resurface, the world as you know it is gone.	[ "I used to be the social guy. You know the one you had never met, who walked up to you and introduced himself at that party Friday night? I was always making people laugh.\n\nI haven't laughed in eight months. The last thing that made me was when I realized how alone I was. It was such a surreal feeling. I couldn't help but chuckle. Alone has a completely different meaning to me now. It's not the alone I felt hiking ten miles from the nearest town in Colorado, because there were people somewhere. Here is different. I am completely alone, the only living thing left. What happened to the world. Society vanished, and quickly too. \n\nI've been counting days, like people do in prison. Small, shakey lines covered the sub walls. It was nine months yesterday 275 days under the surface. \n\nI launched from Maine. I'm supposed to be doing research in the natural fisheries, but funny thing is; there's no fish. My radio cut off at day ten. Oxygen is constant, the oxifyer installed creates oxygen from sea water, indefinitely. Gas, on the other hand runs out. I had 15 days of gasoline stored, I saved about a cup before I realized what was going on. I stopped receiving radio signals, gps signals started informing me that I was in mainland China. I was stuck at the edge of a seabed trench for nine months. Food was easy, freeze-dried food was normal before I left. So small you could fit an entire casserole in a bottle cap. I had about three years of food aboard, just to keep my palate different each day. Chinese food one day, Thai, even tacos. \n\nI didn't know how to get back to the surface. I knew I didn't have enough gas. I was 600 feet deep, and it takes about a gallon to resurface. I got desperate. I filled the fuel tank with my own feces, a two month process. I figured the methane would power the engine. Today I reached the top of the tank, poured the cup of gasoline and desperately turned the golden key. It started. Whew. I began the ascent. It took three hours, I had to go slow to save fuel. Somehow the methane worked. I reached the surface. Something is off... \n\nI emerged in the middle of a small lake in what looked like the old rice patties of... Well, China. How did I get here? \n\nThere were no farmers in sight, everything was dusty and the trees were all burnt to a crisp. Rusted nuclear warning signs surrounded me. I could see for miles in the flat valley. Not a single sign of humanity for hundreds of square miles, I checked. I can't handle this. I'm starting to go crazy. My head is pulsing and my bones are getting increasingly more brittle. I've already broken my right hand. I can't move. \n\nI miss my family. Maybe I'll see them in heaven. I can't take it anymore. Being truly alone is a dark, consuming feeling I don't wish on anyone. It's terrible. I don't know what happened while I was gone, but everyone and everything is gone. This is the words of the last survivor, Michael Faraday. Hopefully my knife is still sharp. \n\nAugust 2015-2068.\n", "--May--\nIt had to be done. Someone had to go down there into the depths of the world. It was perennial darkness, only the lights inside visible. This was a one man mission, not because it could only be done by one person, but budget cuts. My commander hated my guts as well, so I was sent down the hatch and away from civilization. I got to know myself pretty well, as a bout six weeks into the mission, I lost all care. I had begun talking to myself in different voices, trying to hold conversations with different portions of myself. It didn't work at first, it was too stupid to work, I was too sane. I write was, but now I am capable of enjoying deep conversations with my alternate self. Why am I writing this? After my mission was complete, what I came up to was barren. As of now, this is the only writing to exist in this world, if we can even call it that. If I had to describe what exactly happened to completely corrode and eradicate all life, I would say it was some kind of world bombing tour. An endless supply of bombs and nuclear weapons being dropped and detonated until it was all gone. I don't even see bones, just these hollowed out looking burnt up barns, but I can see below, this is not barn it was a house once. I don't now if everything is gone, but where I am now is a wasteland. If it wasn't bombings, it may have been in relation to the stars. There is no longer a night. The nine months of darkness I subjected myself to seems all the more punishing. The sun looks much closer than it did before. I sleep in the shadows. I found a hole with a house smashed up below, with a stream, or a river, or some kind of water source. I gobbled it up so quickly and stood up too fast, throwing up. I've encountered no food. But I can survive with water, if there is any point to it. The Earth feels too large now, there's too much space, I can't fill it all. I long for my submarine once more. It was so compact, a place I could hear my voice echo throughout the hull, rewarding with my a sense of belonging. My friends don't exist out here, the sunlight has fried them all. I don't feel depressed, I don't even know, it's just devoid of life entirely. Couldn't it have been someone else? I can't be expected to be the savior of Earth, I'm just a lowly private. I feel so weak, and alone. I'm going to go back to my submarine, where I'll stay until I die. There's still some food there, I'll stock up on water and conjure a life for myself within the walls. If anyone finds this, please come to where my submarine is the directions will be left below.\n\n--August--\nThis will be my final writing, things have changed. I don't think I'm alone anymore, but whatever is out there could come for me. Maybe it's just the sense of paranoia that fills me, I don't know. I've become more and more unhinged. No one came to the sub, even though I waited, and waited. I've been through the town again and again, still no survivors, no signs of life. Each time, I feel older and older. My hope finally died. I found another person, laying dead on a beach. Their body all ripped open and devoured. How could they have not heard my call? I know it wasn't there before when I first arrived. I don't want to walk back through the remains of that city for water, I know where the water is, and I am going back down to visit it once more. Someone was out there, but it's too late for them. I'm going back below to where I came from and I am taking the only soul I found with me. This time I'm not coming back, just know the one grave on this planet sits in silence on the ocean floor." ]	2
	[WP] A conversation in hell with the person responsible for your death	[ "\"What were you thinking?\" I screamed at him, tears pouring down my cheeks.\n\nI stared at him, waiting for an answer but he said nothing. \n\nI turned away, unable to stand the sight of him. \n\nFire burned from millions of pits all around me. The smell of brimstone, smoke, and burning flesh assaulted my nose and it was all I could do to keep from throwing up. \n\nCountless people's screams echoed all around me and I wanted nothing more than to cover my ears and drown it out. But I couldn't. I had to hear his answer. I had to know why he'd done this to me. I had to know why he'd killed me and sent me to Hell.\n\nI turned back to him, forcing myself to meet his eyes, and I asked, \"Why?\"\n\nNothing. He had no answer.\n\nMy knees gave out and I dropped to the ground, sobbing so hard my entire body shook. \n\nI lifted my head and looked at myself in the mirror. Why? Why did I have to have that last shot? Why couldn't I have just left when I said I was going to? If I had, I'd still be alive and so would that woman and her daughter. \n\n\"Why?\" I whispered to the mirror. \"Why\"\n", "Even in hell he is alone. I am not the only death he is responsible for. Some blame him in anger. Even those who don't blame him shun him. When I arrive I feel the need to approach him. He sees me coming, I can tell I'm not the first to seek him out. Without him, the average age in hell would be a lot higher. I know he's probably heard it hundreds if not thousands of times before. I know I'll be nothing to him, just a number; same below as it was before. But I'm not going to talk to him because I think it will change him. What I have to say is for me alone. \"Go ahead and say your piece,\" he says - as practiced as I imagined. I don't let it bother me. I look into the eyes of the old inventor. \"The McRibwich was a hell of a sandwich\" " ]	2
	[WP] A superhero and supervillain are married. Neither knows the other's identity.	[ "It seemed like just another Wednesday. Just a nice normal spring afternoon the weather was just the right amount of breezy warmth that combined perfectly with cotton candy white clouds in a lake blue sky. An almost perfect day in Acro City except for the shadow cast by the wave army of Dino-zombots lead by Doctor Zombie intent on the complete destruction of Acro City.\n\nLuckily Captain Hero was there to save the day. She was the fifth Captain Hero to protect the ageless Acro City and the most powerful and beautiful one so far. All Captain Hero’s whether they were men women or children were known by their battle cry of “In the name of all heroes stop your villainy!” Dr. Zombie was known for flinching at the words “In the name of” anytime they were mentioned from hearing Captains phrase shouted at him so often. It was his own form of PTSD and Rage Against the Machine was not a band he liked. No matter how many times he was defeated and undoubtedly killed though Dr. Zombie always came back almost as if he just needed to hear that phrase again. \n\nThis battle was not won quickly. Dr. Zombie had fifty one metal monstrosities, each one 7 stories tall and and spitting out fire or ice or some sort of goo that seemed like marshmallows, looming towards the city. Dr. Zombie called out on his mega-sound blaster “There is only one of you Captain Hero! Today your beauty will fall. Your city will be lost to the pages of human history. Everyone must flee including you or be doomed to be smeared with it.” Dr. Zombie had stopped making demands or ransoms he simply wanted to destroy this one city, Captain Hero’s city.\n\nThe battle took three hours. It was over in time for the normal rush hour to begin and the people of Acro City were doubly grateful for their savior Captain Hero. As Captain Hero took out the controls of each robot (each one located in a completely different part for each robot of course) if anyone had looked at Dr. Zombie they would have watched a man watching a woman. His eyes never left her. He never issued another threat. He didn’t even seem upset. Though with his black and white skull makeup on that was harder to tell. Captain Hero saw it though. She always saw Dr. Zombie. At last she flies through the next to last robot with an explosion of marshmallow like goo bursting behind her. Some falling on nearby fires to create a smell that reminds her of a spring day when she was walking with the man she loved in the park through the city fair. That was the day he proposed to her. \n\n“It’s over Dr. Zombie. Surrender now.” she hoped this time he would. \n\n“Surrender? No I think not beautiful Captain.Today seemed like such a lovely day I just had to relive an old memory.” Dr. Zombie gave a death’s head grin on the last sentence. \n\n“Stop it.” breathed out Captain Hero, “I can’t be with you. I’m married. I love him. We have kids!” Tears started to shine in the super heroes vulnerable eyes.\n\n“I know.” Grinned Dr. Zombie with a smile that was full of deep painful understanding and knowledge of secret pains much like death itself. “I can’t help my cravings. Heeeaaarrrrtt.” He moaned mimicking a traditional zombie while pantomiming frankenstein's monster. The truth was to close to get even a surprised laugh from her. “I want you to be happy. I’m married too but I’ve never felt alive since I was with you!” Her face fell and an angry glare took over. “ How dare you joke..” “\n“It’s not a joke.” Cut in the Doctor. “It was an unintentional pun but damn it that’s how I feel. Except I can’t really feel and my heart doesn’t beat anymore. Maybe that’s why I do this. I’m mad at the city don’t get me wrong if they hadn’t of done what they did the accident wouldn’t have happened and I wouldn’t have woken up three years to late to marry you O Captain my Captain. My Captain.” He trailed off. His eyes screaming things his body would not do. \n\n“You’re married?” Captain queried powerless to control the loss in her own voice.\n\n“Yeah. She’s wonderful and she puts up with me. Even when I do all of this. She’s no saint either but I know she knows I wouldn’t do anything. It’s just the way I ‘m trying to deal with the situation. Speaking of it’s about 20 minutes to rush hour. We better wrap this up so that you can be heralded the champion. If my calculations are right which the only time they aren’t is do to the city government's meddling then the salvage and clean up crews should be here in 5 minutes after the explosion that will kill me. I have my retrieval bots on standby and I should be pieced back together and up in a week. I’ve got a lot of prep I’ve got to do for the anniversary of our first kiss. I damn well hope the man you’re with is half as romantic as I am. By the way not to break things up anymore or get to deep but what is the first name you are going by now?”\n\nCaptain Hero gulped down tears and breathed out a sigh which changed into a slight warm smile that was like a sunrise. “Samantha. What’s your name today?”\n\n“Tod is what will be on my death certificate this time and next week I will be Simon.” Dr. Zombie had a far off look as though he was calculating extremely boring equations again. “ Sam huh? I like it but to me you will always be my April. Now go you should be at least 10 feet away so that you don’t get ashes on your clothes. I will try to stop one day. I really do hope that I can and that this is the last time. In your name Hero I will stop my villainy.” He said with a slight flinch. \n\nAs she flew backwards from the Doctor watching him take out his remote detonator. “I really hope you do. I will love you Tod but you’ve got to move on and live for yourself now.” she pleaded.\n\n“Ah but don’t you know Hero. That’s what kills me.” Fire blossomed around him and the boom and shriek of metal being ripped apart filled the air as Captain Hero looked on. It was just another Wednesday but it was one where she got to talk to him one more time. ", "\"I'll be late babe.\" She said into the cellphone hanging between her shoulder and ear as she was garroting some nameless security guard.\n\n\"You know I hate it when you call me that.\" He said into the speakerphone, looking at a gagged person in a chair as he put on his brass knuckles.\n\n\"Got caught out at work, you know how consulting is.\" She whispered as she gently lowered the corpse to the ground and then fixed her hair.\n\n\"I really do.\" He said before hitting the mute button and punching the prisoner in the jaw, breaking it.\n\n\"Well, how about a ski trip this weekend?\" She asked, walking at a fast pace with her high heels clacking on the ground, not slowing down as she shot two guards in the head with a silenced gun.\n\n\"Sounds good honeybunch.\" He unmuted the phone after the prisoner stopped whimpering.\n\n\"You aren't going to let go of the babe incident, are you?\" She entered the elevator to the top floor.\n\n\"You love me this way.\" He punched the man in the elbow, shattering it to bits. He was so happy at the auto-mute function he added to the speakerphone as the man wailed into his gag.\n\n\"Well, it sure adds excitement to my otherwise tedious life.\" She fixed her makeup while reloading her gun.\n\n\"I'll talk to you later, these meetings are hell.\" He said.\n\n\"Aren't they?\" She answered, making a kissing sound and then putting her cellphone into the pouch.\n\nLex Luthor removed the gag from his prisoner, and removed his brass knuckles. The pliers nearing the mouth caused him to speak before losing his teeth. Finally, he was closing in on the Black Widow, a thorn in the side of his empire for the past couple of months. Whoever she was, she was getting far too close to connecting him to his crimes - something he thought impossible.\n\nNatasha plowed through the security force with efficiency. The time for covertness had passed. She'd get the sonofabitch that managed to elude every single security organization in the world. Might even let him live, if only to hear him talk about how he built an empire on nothing but lies and blackmail making an otherwise regular brilliant innovator into the person who owns half the world.\n\nThe door opened. The prisoner was weeping. Lex looked at Natasha, she looked back.\n\n\"Well, this is awkward.\" They both said at the same time.", "He plopped himself at the kitchen table, and ran his hands through his thinning hair. The chair responded to his increasing weight gain with a creak. He opened up the paper, bewildered by the news.\n\n\"Can you believe the Lakers won that game?! This entire thing is fixed, and the owners are profiting off of it.\" he exclaimed. \"Somebody ought to rob them blind, the way they've been robbing fans.\"\n\nAs he adjusted his gaze upwards from the paper, he saw his wife, standing there in her silk robe a with wide-eyed smile. She held out a neatly wrapped gift. \"I got this for you. Happy anniversary, darling\"\n\nAlways the expert at masking himself, he forced a grin and chuckled to conceal the expression of shock that briefly befell his face. \"Happy anniversary to you, too, dear\" he replied. \"I think I left your present in the car. Let me jut go and get it.\" He rushed out the door to remedy his predicament.\n\n\"Robbery in progress at Manhattan Jewellers.\" The police radio signal relayed to her through her earpiece. \"One assailant, identified as Doctor Death.\" In one fell swoop, she dawned her mask to conceal her secret identity, and discarded her robe to reveal her skin-tight superhero outfit which brandished the signature \"P\" for \"Power girl.\" Flying out the back door, she raced to contain the situation and return to the house before her husband got back from the garage.\n\n\"Hold it right there, Doctor Death!\" ordered Power girl.\n\n\"I don't have time for this, Power bitch. Just let me through\" he replied.\n\n\"Great! Neither do I. So, just hurry up and hand over that necklace you stole.\"\n\n\"Your fat ass is never getting this necklace\" he taunted.\n\n\"Fat ass?\" She responded. \"My husband thinks my ass is fine.\"\n\n\"Well, he's clearly lying.\" he pressed.\n\n\"Well, I've had three kids. At least I have an excuse. Not sure if I can say the same about you and your bloated physique after all these years.\" she scoffed back.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"But it's the fourth time this week that you're going to be late, darling. I just started on dinner.\" Bates sighed wistfully. His phone levitated beside him as he smeared napalm over the foundation of the building. \n\nOn the phone, he could hear the low murmur of traffic as Atlanta hummed. \"I know, love. But there is an anonymous tip put in that I have to go in and investigate before I get home.\" \n\nAh. So Sehima had done her job. \n\nBates nodded despite knowing that his wife couldn't see his gloves soaked to the elbow with the gelatinous liquid. \"That's fine, then. I'll wait until you get here to eat.\" \n\n\"You don't have to do that!\" Atlanta protested. \"Just put my plate in the oven or something. I'll grab it when I come into the door.\" \n\nFrowning, Bates glanced over at the countdown timer on his phone of approximately when he would be able to hear Atlanta's silver Lexus pull into their garage. Thirty-eight minutes. For all that his wife stayed late, she was terribly predictive. \"I don't mind waiting,\" he insisted. He dropped to his knees and stacked the remaining napalm into numerous tupperware containers before shoving it and his gloves into his knapsack. \n\n\"I just hate being late on a day like this,\" Atlanta huffed. Bates hummed a sound of sympathy and shoved the thing onto his back before reaching over to grab his cell phone and put it to his ear. \n\n\"You'll be home soon enough. We can celebrate then.\" He strode confidently from the underground parking lot to the stairs, shoving his hood over his head to shield his face from any hidden security cameras. \n\nChuckling, Atlanta murmured, \"You're so good to me, baby.\" \n\nBates stood at the crosswalk and glanced down the street to where he could hear numerous police sirens in the distance, snapping his fingers erratically until he felt the ground begin to shake. \"I know,\" he smirked. \"I'll see you at home, alright? I don't want to keep you.\" \n\n\"Of course not.\" Atlanta laughed before she abruptly cursed. \"I gotta go. I love you. Bye!\" \n\nBates glanced up to see The Flying Mistress go back in the direction of the building. \"I love you, too. Be safe.\" He smirked, hanging up the phone and pocketing his hands before heading off to the car. \n\nA half hour would be enough time to get something good started for their anniversary. ", "\"I'm home Jenny!\"\n\n\n\"Welcome home my sweet pumpkin! How was your flight?\"\n\n\n\"It was a bit bumpy. Some turbulence, but overall, the plane didn't crash so that's good. Looks like someone has been keeping an eye on the fort?\"\n\n\n\"Of course! Though wasn't the same with out you.\"\n\n\n\"Oh stop blushing. How was it without me, truly?\"\n\n\n\"Oh, had a few hiccups. Can't say that I downed an airplane, but some of the things I did came close to it!\"\n\n\n\"Forget that business. I'm just glad everyone is safe. I learned after the fact that the scientist Dr. Jennings was on it! Did you know that? It's the guy who was going to testify against the serial killer a while back but was afraid for his life! Now that he's here, they'll definitely put him away.\"\n\n\n\"Oh that's nice dear. I'm glad that Dr. Jennings is safe, but he better watch out. His luck looks like it might change, seeing the rain clouds coming in.\"\n\n\n\"What are you talking about Jenny? Weather says tomorrow will be beautiful. I'm sure he'll be fine.\"\n\n\n\"Nevermind this. Let's go eat. I've prepared you something to die for.\"" ]	5
Any reasonable amount of time from ten minutes to a decade should do.	[WP] Write a story in which each paragraph takes place a decent amount of time after the last one.	[ "(Never wrote a story before open to any critiques. It ended up longer than I thought sorry.)\n\nI woke up. My birthday, finally, in my gut the anticipation I had been pushing down rushed over me. I sprinted down the stairs the grogginess I normally felt in the morning couldn't affect me on a day like today. I saw my parents sitting with breakfast already laid out. It was almost a labor enjoying the mounds of delicous foods my mother had made. When we were done I rushed to the living room where I could see the gift wrapped for me. I waited as patiently as I could as my father quietly washed the dishes scraping the food I didn't eat into the garabage. He walked silently into the room grabbing my gift on the way. He looked my in the eyes and said, \"I love you, and I am so proud of who you are becoming. I hope this helps you become the man you hope to be.\" Not pausing to think about what he had said I ripped the wrapping paper tossing it aside. It was a wooden bowl. My heart sank this was nothing I had wanted. I smiled and thanked my parents. I went up to my room as they both left for work. I put the bowl on my dresser.\n\nI looked at the bowl. A worthless thing as I was leaving for a college across the country. What was I going to use a bowl for I didn't pack it. As I left my room for the last time my father stepped in to say goodbye. I saw him look at it and realize I didn't back it. We said goodbye and I left. \n\nStanding up there on the podium I looked into her eyes I knew that every moment would I spent with her would be in bliss. As we said those fated words we were both bound together for eternity. I could see my father smiling as we walked down the aisle together man and woman. \n\n\"Bouncing baby boys,\" as the doctors described them. Perfectly healthy and full of energy and life twin boys. We had made life out of love, and now we were holding the most precious things in our life. \n\nThey must be lying how can one twin have cancer and the other be healthy. They had told me both of my boys were healthy. Pain was erupting from within as I watched the one thing most important thing to me whither away. I screamed at the doctor trying to get them to help. I screamed to show the pain. And I screamed as part of me was buried. \n\nScarred by the pain and emptied by the screaming, I walked as an empty shell. A shell does not love and a shell cannot provide. Every feeling gone I had no feeling when she walked out the door to never come back with my son's hand in her hand. \n\nIn the hospital again how I hated this pain. The grating scent of chemical fragrance in their sanitizers gouged my nose. Everything faught against me as I walked into the room where my father lay. He was not in a state I would recognize him. Shriveled and old, this was not the man who had lumbered around doing my dishes. I sat next to him to hold his hand, but before I could grab it he shakily pointed to the table. I saw the wooden bowl he had gifted to me all these years ago. Now there were items inside it though. My graduation pin, my wife's wedding ring, and wrapped most carefully a picture of my baby boy, that was taken early from me, with it was a cast of his feet taken the day of his birth. I sat and just looked tears streaming by a pain I hadn't felt in ages. I set down the bowl noticing how it was obviously homemade and how beautifully it was put together. My father then said to me, \"Life is a collection of events, while some may be painful, we slowly piece them together to turn into the people we are today. I told you I loved you and am proud of you on the day I gave you that bowl, and I still am today as well.\" Those were the last words I spoke to my father. \n\nI walked up to the house my palms sweating as I knocked on the door. I saw her beautiful face again as she graciously welcomed me into her home. I saw my boy eating his breakfast already bouncing in his seat. After we finished breakfast, he dove into the living room eager to get to the most exciting part of a birthday. I slowly gathered the dishes clearing them away and wiping them clean. All the while hoping that I could give my son a fraction of what my father had given me. I walked back to the car I drove up in and grab the gift I had for him. I could see the confusion in his eyes as I handed my son the wooden bowl I had crafted it looked rougher than the one my father had made that must be because I made the bowl using every event in my life and it was a reflection of my life, one that I hope my boy shares with me. All I said to him was ,\"I love you and I am proud of you.\" ", " (First time submitting here, give me any critiquing you can offer!)\n\n\nI got the job! Alexis will be so proud of me! After eighteen months, I've finally got a job! I'll be able to raise money to finish college, support our family, anything!\n\nFirst day of work went pretty well! The boss seems to like me, if I keep this up I can hope for a promotion or a pay raise! I'm waiting for Alexis to get home, and we'll be able to talk about our day!\n\nI don't think she gets off of work this late. I hope she's alright. \n\nI tried calling her. No response. I'm going to go make something for dinner. \n\nTurned on the news. There was an accident on the freeway, which must be holding her up. I hope she gets home soon, dinner is getting cold. \n\nIt's almost 10 o'clock. I'm getting worried. I tried calling her again, but no one picked up. Went ahead and ate dinner. I'm going to sleep now. \n\nThe bottle is cold. Nowadays, everything is. It's been two weeks, and what I thought was going to be the best time of my life has been the worst. \n\nAlexis died in that accident, and so did a piece of me. \n\nAs I finish my drink, I look around my now dingy apartment. It hadn't been cleaned in days, with no one to care for it any more. \n\nThe counselor says that I need to move on. I told the counselor that I had nothing to move on for. \n\nI roughly choke down the pills, made to help me in my sorrows. For what must be the dozenth time, they haven't worked.\n\nI roughly choke down the pills, helping me in my sorrows. For what must be the dozenth swallow, I finally begin to feel happy. \n\nI slowly close my eyes, and see Alexis there, in the darkness. I spread my arms, welcoming her embrace. \n" ]	2
	[WP] In the future, capital offenses don't result in imprisonment or execution. Instead the guilty simply have their memories wiped and are relocated. One day an otherwise morally upright person discovers that they have a criminal past.	[ "His head hung saturated with a pervasive fog. White filled his visual field as his peripherals disappeared along with him. He was dazed, yet, he was comfortable.\n\n\"I didn't know you liked milk so much,\" his wife poked.\n\n\"Huh? Oh. I guess I'm just kind of out of it,\" he replied. He turned his head slightly to smile, but his gaze was still locked on the glass. He shook his head gently, but he knew the lethargy was here to say. For something so calm, it held on to him so tight. He laughed at the irony.\n\n\"I'm glad you still think I'm funny. Even if you love milk more than me.\" She kissed him on the cheek and rubbed his back. He could still feel the imprint of her warmth as he heard the car groan.\n\nMatt took a seat in between the two cushions on the sofa. He liked the sensation of being partially swallowed by the couch, it provided much needed physical and mental support. Especially for a slow Tuesday. The TV awoke with an \"economics expert\" talking about recession. Matt cringed at the sight of it - still sore from being laid-off a week prior. He quickly smashed a random series of numbers to remedy the bad taste in his mouth. QVC...no. ESPN...no. Comedy Central. Yup, the stale taste was still there. He left it on and got up, moving over to his laptop in the corner of the room. He jittered the mouse back and forth; the fastest thing he had done all morning. Again, he laughed at his own musings. His desktop came to with a familiar buzz. An aerial view of Trump Bay looked back at him, he decided then it was time for a new background. Matt picked an abstract close up of some rocks and cinder blocks. It may have been gray, but he was drawn in by the intricate patterns. Saved changes. He opened up his email and quickly scanned the bolded excerpts. \n\n5 Great Places To Dine On A Budget. \n\nCITI username verification. \n\nFree local sluts looking for a fun night out! \n\nYou still The Anchor?\n\nHe clicked on the last message based on the subject alone; he always wanted to be appointed a nickname. It seemed fun. \n\nWe have a day-trip planned on the Hudson this weekend. Let us know if you still have that small fishing boat. 915-500-3194.\n\nFishing boat? He cocked his head like a canine, trying to remember if he had ever been on a fishing boat, let alone owned one. His memory seemed to be worse than others his age, but he was almost positive he had never had a boat. If anyone had a boat it would have been Luna, she was by far the more adventurous one. He muttered something inaudible under his breath and dialed the number. It rang 6 times before it was answered.\n\n\"Mattyyyyyy,\" the voice carried on. It sounded Italian, paternal, and all too familiar.\n\n\"Yeah, who is this? You left your number in an email,\" Matt accused.\n\n\"I know I know. Boss says we ain't supposed to do that. I don't really see the problem. It ain't like it used to be anyway. The good times is over. We haven't had a job in - \"\n \n\"You didn't answer my first question.\"\n\n\"Don't play so cold Matty. It's still before noon. It's Vinnie. I'm at Capulco's. Wanna swing by for a slice?\"\n\nHis memory might have been going quicker than Luna's, but he knew he didn't know a Vinnie. But, still, he did like Capulco's.\n\n\"Alright, I'll be there in 20 or so. I gotta get dressed.\"\n\n\"Hahaha. I see the bull still charges the cape. I'll see you in 45 if we're lucky.\"\n\nMatt hung up first. His habit of a lengthy morning routine was well known by his friends. By his former boss as well - the bastard. The conversational familiarity filled him with unease. He didn't like being held in the dark. If he was tired before, he wasn't anymore. The fog was finally lifted, but replaced with a looming cloud.\n\n______________________________________________________________________________________\n\n\nGod dammit he squeezed tight. This is how it feels to suffocate I guess.\n\n\"Alright, alright. So what the fuck is the deal with this Anchor nonsense?\" Matt interrupted. \n\n\"It ain't nonsense Matty. It's a very important part of our process. You know that better than anyone,\" Vinnie replied. He was definitely sharper than he looked. Matt took note of that.\n\n\"And what is the crux of this process, Vinnie?\"\n\n\"Well it keeps the boat from sinking. Without it, we wouldn't be able to move upstream.\"\n\nUpstream. This really fucking bothered him. Upstream. He had this feeling before...the feeling of almost getting something. The feeling of being color-blind solving a Rubik's cube. He knew it was a puzzle, but he didn't know what the solution was supposed to be.\n\n\"So you still got the fishing boat or what? 'Cause we got other guys, but none of them as good as The Anchor,\" Vinnie said proudly.\n\n\"I've never owned a fishing boat. In fact, I don't have a fucking clue who you are. I came here to ask what was going on, as I have nothing but free time nowadays. I can't help you for whatever you're trying to do, because I don't know what you're trying to do,\" Matt replied.\n\nVinnie sat shaking his head, looking down at his pants. His eyebrows were furled and he seemed to understand something.\n\n\"Well, at least let me buy you a slice then,\" Vinnie offered.\n\n\"Sure,\" Matt said cautiously. He was straddling a feeling between trusting and skeptical. He was drowning in an emotional void.\n\n\"At least tell me one thing Matty. You still working with rocks?\" Vinnie pressed.\n\n\"I was, until last Friday. I was a state geologist working in the Water Resources unit,\" Matt said.\n\nVinnie let out a short breath. It sounded like a laugh.\n\n\"I guess somewhere it's deep down inside you. That's good, that's good. Just make sure when the Anchor comes back up for air, you let me know. We could use a good man like you,\" Vinnie said as he walked away.\n\nMatt stared at his wide frame slipping sideways the door. Blue filled his visual field, as he remembered looking down at the shadows being swallowed.\n\n**First reply to [WP]. I have a tendency for long descriptions, I know.\n", "It was a Monday morning as sullen and somber as any other Monday morning would be; people could be heard groaning on their way to work, one man crying about the massive hangover headache, a pair of parents screaming at their child to get up. But not Harry. He woke up, got out of bed at 5 a.m. sharp, just early enough to see the sun arise from beyond his bedroom window. The smell of daffodils raised his senses sharp, a pleasant reminder that he had filled the entire balcony with yellow and white. Harry had loved those flowers his whole life - or at least a portion of it, the part that he could remember.\n\n\"Good morning, Harry,\" greeted the mailman as Harry closed the front door.\n\n\"Lovely day, isn't it Mr. Jin?\" replied Harry to the middle-age Asian man who handed him a parcel. Mr. Jin said a joke about it being a dildo, but Harry was too engrossed in what was written on the front to reply. It wasn't his name.\n\n\"Are you sure this is for me?\"\n\n\"Yeah. See, your address.\" The mailman pointed. \"I also found it weird that the name was wrong, but, you know, no other white man around here, so I thought it's for your friend. Or lover,\" he said, then burst out laughing. Harry merely laughed along and waved as Mr. Jin left for the next address, and returned to the house.\n\nIt wasn't poor sense of humor on Mr. Jin's part; his joke had a point. Harry, for the ten years he had lived in this country, had never brought a girl home. It wasn't that the women here aren't lovely; they are, and he wasn't bad-looking either. You're a good guy, you can get any girl you want. Foreigners like you are like rare jewels, his old landlord used to say. But he simply had never felt secure with anyone ever since he left the hospital.\n\nJust then, the phone rang. Harry pressed the \"receive\" button.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Mr. Harry Dean?\" A young woman. \"This is Nightingale Hospital. We are calling to cater to your request for information. You will be glad to know that we were finally allowed to tell you the details of how you came to be here in the first place.\"\n\n\"I did ask, but-\" it's too damn late, he thought. He had asked for it after his stay there, ten years ago. He tried again a few times, even came to the authorities. Nobody talked. Since then, he had lost interest.\n\n\"What if I don't want to know?\"\n\nThey kicked him out onto the streets clueless, no home, no family. He moved on, by himself. Whom do they think they're granting wishes to?\n\n\"But you already do.\"\n\n\"What?!\"\n\n\"Read the mail.\"\n\nThe call abruptly stopped, and Harry was left hanging for a long while, drowning in the tirelessness of the long beeps from the other end. He finally got around, and glanced at the parcel. Could this be what she meant? The thing that had always hung over his head for ten prolonged years. The truth that he wanted. His past.\n\nHe found the pen knife and carefully ran it along the taped edges. Inside the box were documents. Tons of documents, the paper kind that was hardly seen anymore. Tons of folders, and pages, half of whose information were censored. But he kept seeing the same things. His face, only younger. The name on the parcel. He stopped at the words \"Police Report - Classified\".\n__________________________________________\n\n\"Thank you for offering to meet me, officer.\" Harry shook hands with the man who just arrived.\n\n\"Oh sure, we were planning on a proper chat with you for a long time. The officer in charge of your case couldn't make it himself; it's been ten years, after all.\"\n\nHarry hardly listened; words fell through him like feathers from a bird, scattered, disregarded, lost. He was still figuring. He stared at the officer's nearly bald head, the way it glistened in the light. He stirred his coffee nervously, or apathetically; his own mood seemed unclear to him. Just like his past.\n\n\"He couldn't speak the language- your* language, anyway. So here I am. But he said he was proud, ya' know. Anyway, how was the read? A lot to take in, I know. But I'm sure you had plenty of time-\"\n\n\"What do you want from me?\" interrupted Harry, suddenly. Too suddenly, perhaps, for the officer just stared, his moustache twitching. It took him ten seconds to gather his breath again.\n\n\"Nothing, really. We just want to- thank you, ya' know, that you're proof our project is a success. And we thought you would like to know-\"\n\n\"What? That I'm scum?\"\n\n\"No, no, that you-you've changed! You are no longer who you were-\"\n\n\"NO I'M NOT!\"\n\n\"Look, look,\" a drop of sweat dripped down the officer's unwrinkled forehead. \"You have become a decent person, and we think it's time to allow you some- a leniency policy. You can go back to your family, and-\"\n\n\"I don't have a family!\" shouted Harry, who was on the verge. \"I never did. I am alone, 'cause that's all I'll ever be.\"\n\nBy the time he realised he was grabbing the officer's shirt, he also saw the rest of the coffee shop staring. He said under his breath:\n\n\"Never come here again.\"\n\nHarry stepped back, placed some coins on the table for the coffee and left the building. The officer, with his mouth open, was bent on running after him, when a hand landed on his shoulder.\n\n\"Please, remember your promise, sir. Your son does not want to see you again.\"" ]	2
Detail out the situation where you try to explain yourself as the person, and what would happen when the actual person came in.	[WP] You're at a pub when you see an attractive woman sitting alone at a table, after you approach her and talk for a while you hit it off; only to find out that she is there to meet someone she met online.	[ "She batted her eyes at me, \"You know, you're not bad.\" She spoke slowly so I would hang on every word, \"In fact, you're doing really well at this whole 'bar date' thing.\"\n\nIt was good to hear, most times on these I've crashed and burned, \"well, I'm good at a lot of other things too.\" I looked into her eyes and she looked back into mine. \n\n\"I've heard a silver tongue can be very versatile.\" \n\nUn-fucking-believable. The woman he eyed was a voluptuous blonde with deep blue eyes and a clear complexion. She wore a tight dress that ended above her knees. She was the hottest woman at the bar. I had never had someone flirt with me like this on the first time meeting. Since the beginning, they had been flirting. Finally, I said:\n\n\"You wouldn't even believe, it's mind blowing.\" \n\n\"You know,\" she began, \"I don't think you're a socially awkward penguin in the slightest.\"\n\nWhat. Roll with it.\n\n\"Well, at the end of the day I am a human.\"\n\n\"So, what, you told me you're bad at conversation. I think you're phenomenal. I only thought you were witty online, where everyone has minutes to think about what they say. Yet here you are, flirting like a champion. Are you gonna take me home, penguin?\"\n\n\"... Penguin?\"\n\n\"Tell me your real name, and don't say James Bond.\"\n\n\"Joe.\"\n\n\"Alright, 'Joe,' I'll fold. I've been attracted to you before we even met here. The third night we talked I knew I was going to meet you. Do I meet your expectations?\"\n\nShit. She thinks I'm someone else.\n\n\"Oh.\" I felt disappointed. This woman was drop-dead gorgeous and it had almost happened. \"Well, listen, let me be honest- I don't think I'm who you think I am. \n\n\"Well, you look like your picture. Thanks for not cat-fishing me, by the way. You're handsome.\"\n\nMy god, I look just like this guy.\n\n\"Well, I'm not the guy you met. Maybe a happy coincidence.\"\n\n\"Oh my god,\" she said, \"What the hell? Look at me, I'm hot! You're going to pretend this isn't you?\" She pulled out her phone and looked through it a bit before stopping and turning it towards me. There, staring right back at me was my facebook profile picture.", "\"What are you drinking?\" She said. I was surprised. She was a pretty good looking girl, mid twenties, long legs, pretty face. I wasn't exactly ugly, but I wasn't in her league. Why would she ask me that question. I decided to roll with it, hell I had nothing to lose. \"Jack, on the rocks, with a splash of lemon.\" She raised a finger and a waiter came over. She ordered four drinks, all jack on the rocks with a splash of lemon.\n\nSuddenly, this was too good to be true. \"What are you doing? You're not an escort are you.\" She scoffs. \"What, a woman can't make the first move? It is the 21st century you know. Besides, I'm just looking for a conversation, nothing more.\" I was both relieved and disappointed at the same time. So this beautiful woman isn't hitting on me after all. Big whoop. Why not enjoy the moment. \"So what's a catch like you doing here?\" I said, nervously. She ignored the question, and said to me, \"That's not important. Why are you here? You seem to have no purpose.\"\n\nI looked into her eyes, and smiled. \"You really want to know? Boredom. Pure, utter boredom. I've lived in this world for twenty six goddamn years, and every day feels the same. It's bleak as hell.\" She chuckled. \"What's so funny?\" I inquired. \"It's funny.\" She lamented, \"My father used to say the same thing.\" That set off a trigger in my head. This chick definitely has daddy issues. I decided to push the subject.\n\n\"Did your father hang out at these places a lot?\" She looked down into her glass, and swirled it. \"How should I know?\" She mumbled. \"He was rarely around, and when he was, he always slept, watched T.V., or yelled at mom.\" Then she looked up at me, with an intent stare and said, \"Gotcha.\" I was surprised. Then she giggled. \"You really thought I was about to spill my guts to you didn't you? Well not today mister. Hell, I don't even know your name.\" Goddamn she was seductive. I had to keep it up.\n\n\"It's Frank. And yours?\" I slumped in my chair, in an effort to give off the impression that I was losing interest. \"Well, mine is Cecilia. When you first sat down you asked what I was doing here.\" I looked up, carefully, making sure she knew she had only piqued my interest, not grabbed my attention. But in reality, all my senses were focused on her essence. She went on, \"I'm actually here to meet someone I met online. My friend Grace convinced me to make an E-harmony account when I was wasted. I told some loser I'd meet him here and didn't want to blow him off, but now, I don't know, you intrigue me.\" That was not what I expected. She knew she had hooked me, damn it! I had to get out of this hole, she had me on her leash now. She knew I was interested. I had only one thing to say.\n\n\"Well, that's pretty funny. You definitely have grabbed my interest. You like to dance?\" She scoffed, \"Now don't get hasty Frank! I don't give in that easy.\" Heh, yeah right. I knew she had whored out a few times in the past. It was written on her face. But I knew how to play this game. \"I wasn't asking you for a dance. I'm no slouch when it comes to piano. I'll play you a doo dad.\" I got up, went over to the piano, lit a cigar, smiled, and began to play.", "“Come on Jim go talk to her.” One of my friends coerced me. I had refused to look at the girl he kept gesturing to with his beer stone on principal. I didn’t pick up girls at bars. I was looking for a long term relationship, and the odds just weren’t good of finding one here.\n\nI decided to humor him because this was the fourth time he’d asked, and he was my best friend. I was very glad I did. She was a normal girl next door kind of pretty. She was by herself, which made approaching easier. She wore glasses which meant she had a higher than average probability of being intelligent, or more likely, she wanted to look intelligent. Either was good because it meant she placed a high value on intellect either way. What sealed the deal, was she had a t-shirt from my blog store.\n\nMy blog didn’t do well at all, and only had a handful of loyal followers. I had only ever sold one t-shirt, and she was wearing it. I had stayed up at night wondering who had thought it was worth spending fifteen dollars on me, and here was the answer, kind of cute, and wearing glasses, just begging to be chatted up.\n\n“I’ll be right back.” I told my friend. He patted me on the back said.\n\n“Told you.” My friend knew about my blog, and also knew about the t-shirt.\n\nI didn’t have any situational openers for bars, but I did know a lot about my own blog, so the opener was easy.\n\n“Age before video games?” I asked as I sat down. She laughed and nodded.\n\n“I can’t believe anyone else reads that blog.” She responded, looking excited to see me.\n\n“I know right? There’s what 22 followers?” I asked again.\n\n“23 last I checked.” She responded. “I got my friend hooked to.”\n\n “So tell me.” I said. “You like country dancing, flipping other people’s kayaks, putting stink bombs in geocaches, and sitting in the back at church so if you fall asleep the priest doesn’t notice.” She nodded at each activity.\n\n “I got most of the ideas from the blog, but yes to all.” Before I could continue she interjected.\n\n “Hey, can I talk to you later. I setup this date online and he should be here any minute.” I was a bit sad at the dismissal, but she did make a point of inviting me to talk again.\n\n “Sure.” I said. “By the way, do you have a smart phone that gets internet access here? I know this can be a bit of dead zone.” She nodded and showed me her phone as proof.\n\n “Why?” She asked.\n\n “You’ll see.” I said, and went to sit back down.\n\n The guy came in, and they talked for an hour, while I fiddled with my phone and chatted with my buddy. He wanted me to go over and start something, but I assured him everything was under control. He got more and more agitated as time went on, but I was cool as a cucumber. This was a done deal.\n\n After the guy left for the evening I went back over and sat down.\n\n “So.” She said. “Where were we?”\n\n “Open the blog, he just posted something.” She obliged and opened her phone.\n\n “Just met this cute girl at a bar. We’re going kayaking and geocaching this weekend. Alright ordered the stink bombs from amazon.”" ]	3
I was hoping you guys could come up with some "feel good" stories about two people who love each other. Best Friends, Siblings, even people and their pets. It doesn't matter. Make my heart warm, or make it break; the choice is yours.	[WP] Write me a heartfelt story about people who love each other.	[ "She had been hurt before and he was fresh out of a divorce. Both had worked together for a few years very closely without even noticing each other until one day he found her dating profile was a match for him.\n\nOne day at work he casually brought it up and when she looked at him confused he pulled up the site and showed her. She blushed a little and laughed remembering a time when her friend tried to set her up a dating profile a while back but didn't know it actually existed.\n\nFast forward a week or so and they take their kids to the park together. The kids get along and as he watches and sees her interacting with their kids and how his son is enjoying himself and using his imagination, playing happily. He instantly knows that he wants to get to know this woman better for she has started something in his heart that he has never felt before.\n\nThey go on a date or two and hang out, watching movies, laughing, being silly. Then as is getting into her car one night he awkwardly makes his move for a kiss, it's not the best in the world and they both laugh it off vowing for a better one next time. She was extremely guarded because of her past and was not expecting the kiss, She heads home and he kicks himself and feels so silly but also has a good chuckle at it as he falls asleep thinking about that evening with her.\n\nOne night he makes a terrible mistake with his ex and tells her the next day. She is crushed of course and they agree to be professional but cut any extra contact. He gives her the birthday gifts that he had already picked out and wrapped. They don't speak for a few weeks and he thinks he has lost her, He is mentally and emotionally broken for what he has done.\n\nThen one day it starts back up with a text and they slowly start talking again. He does everything in his power from that point on to show that she is the love of his life and he would and will happily do anything for her for the rest of his life. Not many people get a second chance at love.\n\nA year goes by dating and they are now living together, working together as a team to keep the house in order, children fed, homework, chores done, yard work, etc...\n\nEvery single one of these days no matter how tired or stressed I am is the best day of my life. She is an amazing mother, partner, woman, and girlfriend. Sometimes she will catch me looking at her eyes while we are laying in bed watching TV and shyly looks over at me asking \"what?\" to which I respond \"Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you.\" She smiles, and says \"ditz boo\" then we both usually make fart noises with our mouths or something equally silly, or the cat will bite my toes and I softly kick that furry bitch off the bed and curse loudly while she giggles at my pain and suffering.\n\nBefore meeting each other I thought I was emotionally broken, being married twice to the same woman (long story) and I have never felt for anyone like I do for her. We worked together for a few years, she is my soul mate and she was right there the whole time. She is the woman that I want holding my hand when I am old, deaf, hairy, and gassy, sitting on a porch swing watching our children raise their kids asking them occasionally to pull my finger and laughing while the swing rumbles and the children run away.", "\"I love you.\" It was easy to say but what did it mean? \n\"I love you too babe.\" Her smile lit up her face, her eyes sparkling with admiration, and tears. Seeing her man once again... After so long.\n'I love you' Meant the time they had been apart. It was the tears he cried for the years he lost. 'I love you' Meant the years before, leading up to their marriage. The letters, paper, and digital that were sent over time, and water and kept him alive when he wanted to give up. 'I love you' Was the child he left her with, and they lost. It meant that even through distance, he grieved with her, and even through space they prayed for the other's safety. \nIt meant that now... As he lay in bed, and screamed... Crying in his sleep for someone to save them... She grabbed him and pulled him out of sleep, reminded him that they were safe, reminded him she was still there... Through the countless nights... Years... Of his fits... Of alcohol... Of anger... Of fear... Without ever leaving his side. \n'I love you' Meant the smile when he held their seccond child, and knew that things would be okay. When the child grew up, and they did their best for him, but perhaps they made mistakes... Yet as he left for collage... 'I love you' meant that the mistakes were all forgiven. \n'I love you' Meant that they would be together, through the hardships, and the joy, through the painful memories, and the new beginnings. Through the mistakes, and the triumphs. The fights, and the peace. 'I Love you' to them... Meant 'we made it through'\n", "They both look at each other, sleepy eyed and yawning. He's turned his lights out, while her's are still on; she's doesn't like the dark. He fixes his headphones so he can lie down without breaking them while he's asleep, although she already knows that while he's out they'll move up his face and eventually fall off and drown in the thunderous sea storm he makes with the covers when he moves. \n\nShe's watched him sleep when she can't. He looks adorable asleep, all cuddled into his covers like he's trying to hide away. The call pixelates for a few moments before jumping back up again, thankfully. They whisper their goodnights to each other, followed by air kisses and smiles. He closes his eyes first, like usual. He looks peaceful, so innocent. She hums to him their song, a song they share. She makes sure to do it quietly though, as not to disturb him much. Her hum breaks at the higher and lower points of the song. She pauses for a minute, still staring at him as he lies there. Then he smiles. His big, broad smile that lights up his face and hums it back without opening his eyes. She sings the song as he hums. \n\nThis moment. Her heart feels like it is being squeezed or pushed on, its tight in her chest as he hums to her. It feels like it might burst, but not in a bad way. Its in a way she's only ever felt towards him; it feels like it will be crushed under her love for him. He doesn't have to hum back, she knows how tired he is, but he does anyway. Her heart is tight, her smile broad even though she hates to open smile because of her braces. \n\nAs she looks at him, falling asleep in the darkness of his room, she whispers\n\n\"I love you\"\n\n\"I love you too\"\n\nThen he is asleep. Snoring like a train going past her house, and moving around the bed like there are ants in his pants, headphones falling off. ", "Every day, every hour, every second, reality drips onto each person; a relentless erosion of the stone we are made from until we finally succumb and devolve into human shapes instead of human beings. But life is not just a slow deluge. There are things, moments, people who help define us. This is a story about one of those people.\n\n\n\nAs a new dad, the first month is hard. Not because of the sleep deprivation, or the endless cries, or the countless diapers, but because as a dad you feel useless. You don’t have what she needs. Her mother does, her mother gave and sustained her life. Her mother and I loved each other, there is no comparison, no simile or metaphor that could describe our love, just a little person who embodies it. Then two weeks after we became three, we were two again, but a different two. She was gone, not the little person, not the love, but my partner, my child’s sustainer, and I was left with this little person, crying. Sometimes the drips of reality become a cataract. \n\nDefying history’s greatest tragedies, she doesn’t have her mother’s eyes, she has my eyes, my mouth, my face, but her mom’s nose. She scrunches it when she cries. \n\nThe stress did not give me new wrinkles, instead it erased the lines from my life and I became just a shape. I fed her, a bathed her, I watched her sleep, all the while she stared through me. She would smile sometimes, but not for me, it was just her nerves figuring themselves out. Once she looked me in the eyes, but when I moved, her gaze did not, she did not see me, just a blurry shape. \n\nThis morning it changed. All that remained of me was a stalagmite, days had melted into nights and an ambulatory amorphous person was all that remained. Her crying woke me up, I warmed the formula, and fed her, an automaton that responded only to her needs. She drank the whole bottle, and then she looked at me, not through me, not vaguely at my direction, but directly into my eyes. With the few ounces of strength that remained, I smiled. \n\n\nShe smiled back. \n\n\nLike one of Michelangelo’s marble masterpieces, I burst from the stone that blanketed me. The unstructured person I had become was gone in an explosion of adrenaline. I was no longer a human shaped automaton, I was a dad, I was her dad, I would always be her dad. \n\n\nI loved her.\n", "\"You're a romantic!\" she giggled as she ran to catch up with him. He offered a forced smile, nothing more than a tug of the lips and a quiver at his eyes. She was walking backwards, facing him, her feet tapping toe to heel, toe to heel.\n\n\"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am not,\" he said. The laugh was dry even without the air. He reached out for her hand, but she pulled away, her eyes teasing him to chase.\n\n\"Really? Come off it. Of all the movies we could've watched, you chose the one with the strong female lead who's really independent and good-natured but somewhat lost male lead. And of course they don't work out in the beginning even though they try, and of course they break up only to get back together, sort of, when they learn to accept each other in spite of their different goals and outlooks. It's Nicholas Sparks without the life-shattering tragedy.\"\n\n\"I only chose that movie because you told me to pick one and you said you wanted to watch it when we saw the trailer two months back,\" he struggled to not grit his teeth.\n\n\"You're not mad are you? Look I'm kidding. I did want to watch it,\" she said as she side-stepped, \"I just thought you'd be more into X-Men or Edge of Tomorrow. Guns, mutants, and aliens and the like.\"\n\n\"With our schedules, we hardly have time together, at least like we used. I thought it would be nice to watch something we'd both enjoy as opposed to just something I wanted to watch.\"\n\n\"Hey, I'd be down for guns, mutants, and aliens too. But it was nice and I liked the movie. I guess-well, I guess I just haven't seen that side of you.\n\n\"I think I'm a pretty open book with you.\"\n\n\"You are,\" she said as grinned up at him, pulling in close to loop her arm around his. He tensed, his jaw flexing, as he almost pulled away.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Oh. Nothing. I'm just tired, mostly. Work being what it is. Let's get going.\"\n\n\"You have that face on. Just tell me what's up.\"\n\n\"This is my tired face. It's nothing, really. Let's get you home. I don't want to worry your-.\"\n\n\"There. That face you always wear when you have to lie, when you're holding up the whole world. You have a slight tremor under your left eye whenever you do that. You know it sucks when you shut me out.\"\n\n\"Just leave it alone, please.\"\n\n\"Why do you always do that? You push me away when you hurt, then say things like-.\"\n\n\"I don't want to burden you. I\"ll be fine in a few days.\"\n\n\"James, I'm here for you, just tell-.\"\n\n\"I can't. It hurts and I can't right now. You don't know how to let things go, how to give up, especially when it's something that matters or someone that mattes to you. But tonight, please, just tonight. I'm begging you. Tonight, I just needed to watch a movie with a friend, and that's all I want. I don't want to talk about anything. I want. I need everything to just be normal. Can you do that?\"\n\nShe stopped walking and let go of his arm, letting him walk further away. James stopped as well, his shoulders pulled forward, his head bowed, his heart pounding as he struggled to maintain his composure.\n\n\"I'm sor-.\"\n\n\"Take me home, please.\"\n\nThe car ride was silent, the air so tight that the breath caught in their chests. James pulled up to her house it's cute, cottage-like exterior, darkened by it's unlit windows. The muted creak of the night's song came through his car doors as she exited. He shifted into drive only to press down harder on the break, his eyes following her in the cast of his headlights. She tapped on the window.\n\n\"Text me, when you get home okay?\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\n\"I'm serious.\"\n\n\"I will,\" he insisted. She leaned in, her hand running up the right side of his face and around his ear. She let her fingers through his hair, just enough grit like she knew he loved. He let out an involuntary sigh, turning his head into her hand as she pulled her face close to his and kissed him. She tasted of overly buttered popcorn and Coca-Cola mixed with just a hint of mango from her lip balm.\n\n\"Call me, when you're ready,\" she said. His smile reached his eyes this time. Tears maybe. He avoided crying as much as possible. It just seemed-\n\n\"Crying isn't a waste of water, James,\" she said, before stepping back to let him drive away.", "After all these years, her eyes still made him start. \n\nTheir beautiful blue depth was like that ridiculously deep pool in Sweden, Vegas, or whatever. They were borderline crystal-like in their clarity, but impossibly piercing in their sharpness. Like gilded daggers, they both made him incredibly amazed and similarly startled. They were so striking, and he loved them. \n\nHe also loved her laugh. It was 2 parts chuckle, 3 parts giggle, a dash of mischief, shaken not stirred and poured like steam. The sort of laugh that made you want to laugh alongside it in hopes of absorbing some of its purity. It was a complete expression of joy, not mixed with pretense or anticipation, but exclusively of a need to vent the wonder within. It never ceased to make him smirk at his worst, and fall headfirst into breathless gasps at his best. It was so pleasing, and he loved it.\n\nAnd he could never forget her hands. The hands of a mother, daughter, sister, and friend. Their skin was soft as silk, but with the worn leather of hard work around them. They spoke of early mornings and sleepless nights, endless tension and softest touch, of breaking labor and deepest sleep. They craved to be held, to be kissed, to be used. They were her, and he loved them.\n\nHe loved so many things about her. From the tips of her chestnut hair, to the bottoms of her feet. Her lips were crimson, her dress was purple, her shoes were black. He was so absorbed in everything he'd fallen in love with, he'd completely receded from the world around him, like a spotlight had descended on her and only her. Just like that night at the Silver Bullet Piano Bar, the first time he'd seen her, the world outside couldn't have mattered less. She was so beautiful, and he loved her.\n\nThat's why it was funny, in a way, as he edged back into reality. The world's got an interesting way of catching up all at once with you. In a blink that seemed like less he felt everything.\n\nHe felt the hand on his shoulder.\n\nHe felt the cool air on his neck.\n\nHe felt the hot tears on his face.\n\nAnd he heard the cruelly intentional silence of a thousand choked voices.\n\n\"I don't want her to go.\" He whispered to no one and anyone.\n\"She's already gone.\" responded the minister.\n\nAnd in a soft, muffled thud that could have deafened him a thousand times over, he heard the casket click shut. ", "This is always her favourite part of the day.\n\nHer eyelids flutter, bleary and full of sleep, as she reaches out an arm to bargain with her phone for five more minutes. She rubs one eye, smearing the remnants of last night's mascara onto her cheek. She pulls the blanket back over her shoulder and turns to face him. As she rolls over, he adjusts his arm around her waist without realising, and she is pulled gently into an unconscious embrace. Her hands rest on his bare chest as she studies his face.\n\nThe early morning light peeking through the curtains casts a shadow over his brow. His mop of dark hair sprawls messily over his pillow. His mouth, half open, occasionally puffs as he dreams. She smiles as he murmurs unintelligible half formed sentences. Slowly, she brings one hand up, smoothing the hair out of his face to plant a tiny kiss on his nose. He wrinkles it, grumbling as she grins.\n\nHis eyes slowly open, and she finds her stomach drops the same way it always does when they catch the light. She forgets the flecks of brown in the seagreen, and how the dawn turns them to gold. He squints, and buries his head into the crook between her neck and her shoulder, trying to escape the impending day. She kisses him again, this time on the side of his head, wrapping her arms around him and tangling her fingers in his hair.\n\n\"Let go of me, dumbass,\" she whispers, \"I'll be late for work otherwise.\"\n\n\"Piss off,\" he grumbles, holding her tighter." ]	7
	[WP] The stars start disappearing.	[ "“What’s going on Justice?” Kennith said as he looked around the cold night. Justice just stood there, her long brown hair blowing in the wind and wrapping around catching itself on the corners of her lips. Kennith looked at her eyes, glazed over and obviously dry as he reached out for her hand. It was frozen solid. \n\n“Justice, you’re cold.” \n\nShe didn’t look away. Her gaze stuck frozen as solid as her hand toward the sky pondering on what the humming was. Kennith didn’t notice it right away but rather hung his mind on the lack of breath coming from her mouth and nose. The cold air smelled of winter and with every hard toke of wind came a billowy cloud from his lungs. \n\n“Justice, we have to go.” \n\nHis words seemed to echo in the quiet of the suburbs where the skyline was visible on the crystal clear horizon. The stars were out and beautiful and only once he saw Justice blink did Kennith turn his attention to the sky, which had reached its arm out and taken Justice’s full attention. \n\n“What is up there Justice. What are you staring at?” \n\nThere was no answer. \n\nKennith heard the hum. Low and distant, it began to vibrate the hairs of his ears and soon the skin on his arm. The flesh pimpled up and became ridged. His stomach began to rise as if he were falling and before he knew it Justice’s hair began to float. \n\n“Its like you are in water Justice.” Kennith said calmly.\n\nHe watched as her hair danced around her head, long and graceful like. It turned and twisted, drifting toward him and Kennith made a selfish reach to breath it in as it came close. Cinnamon and lavender. He thought smiling just a little. \n\nBefore long her long locks were reaching toward the heavens, standing up as if she were flipped, hanging by her ankles. Her shirt followed suit and began to rise as well while her feet slowly lifted off the ground. Kennith, dumbfounded but curious, knelt down, running his hand under her soles. He then stood up and brushed his fingers through her hair. \n\n“No wires.”\n\nThe hum became louder. Kennith noticed the sound was coming from the sky and before long, he noticed a bright flash and then a dead spot appear where a star had once been. A crack and hum. Crack and hum. Over and over again as stars one by one began to crackle and die away, flashing out and leaving a darker place in the night sky than was there before.\n\n“Gods eyes twinkle for you tonight Justice.” Kennith said letting out a hollow chuckle. He turned his head toward Justice, now floating, frozen 4 feet above the ground. “Where are we Justice?”\n\nBefore Kennith’s feet began to tingle from the numbing cold, most of the stars were gone. The ground was lighter than normal and took no effort to stand on so Kennith decided not to. He pulled his feet toward his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He noticed this was warmer than standing straight up and smiled at that comfort. It was getting harder for Kennith not to smile.\n\n“Justice. Can you hear me? What do you see up there? What is so beautiful?”\n\nKennith saw the skyline flicker over and over. The power grid seemed to be faltering but Kennith didn’t think so. The buildings, one by one began to blink away followed by a crack and then a vibration so intense that for the first time Kennith noticed Justice flinch. \n\n“You’re alive? That’s good. I thought you were gone to me.” \n\nThe trees surrounding the two splintered in an explosive show, firing wood shavings and chunks into the air that held them firm. They stuck as if becoming the new stars of the night sky. With a sound like a burning fuse getting louder, the darkness sucked up the trees and all of their leaves and they were gone. The grass, each blade, began to fizzle out, wavy and unfocused to Kennith. \n\nBefore long there was nothing but dirt and rocks and one by one the rocks were leaving them. The darkness was blinding with the exception of the light from the ever-fading moon. Kennith turned to look at Justice who had now floated well beyond his grasp. \n\nOh no, he thought.\n\nKennith extended his legs toward the ground. His feet barely touching. With all the strength the frigid world hadn’t taken from him, he pushed off in the direction of the petrified girl. He wasn’t moving fast, but the ground seemed to move away, faster and faster as he realized it was receding in on itself. The crust turned to mantle and within a few minutes turned to core, burning bright and magnificent. It was far away but still provided a faint heat that Kennith relished. \n\nLooking up toward Justice, Kennith realized he was almost within reach. \n\n“I’ll catch you.”\n\nKennith was becoming frightened. What is happening? Where am I at? He thought as his hand finally gripped Justice’s tiny frame. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and his legs around her thighs. She was colder than ice and the skin of Kennith’s limbs that touched hers began to burn. \n\n“You’re cold Justice. It hurts to touch you.” \n\nDistant cracking and whining reverberated back and forth through the air that, itself, was leaving slowly. Everything, it seemed, was moving away from Kennith and his confusion was evident if only there were a mirror to look in. His lungs hurt to draw breath so he decided not to. He noticed Justice had had the same plan. Her chest, where his arms rested didn’t rise or fall. Her breasts that were once soft and supple now were hard and firm. Kennith with his right hand, reached up to feel her eyes, which were two stone marbles, set in the porcelain like sockets. He dug his nails into her eyelids and pulled them down, covering them up.\n\n“It’s best to close your eyes sweet girl. They are getting dry and cold.”\n\nConstant wave of lights flooded forward and backward, side to side and up and down toward the darker spot where the stars had faded. Every now and again, Kennith would see a random body flying past them at high speed. He saw two bodies collide mid drift and shatter like a wine glass clumsily dropped because it wasn’t important enough to hold. \n\nLike Friday At Benny’s. He Said\n\nKennith broke his arms away from Justice’s chest, breaking her shirt to pieces. He turned her toward him and stared at her face, upset that he had failed to close her left eye completely. He smiled brightly at her beauty. The condensation that had frozen to her skin was shimmering in the light of the moon that still seemed to be dimming away.\n\n“Why is the moon shining Justice? There is no sun anymore. Why does it still shine?”\n\nHe waited for a response but knew it wouldn’t come. He wanted to cry but couldn’t stop smiling. \n\n“Whatever happens Justice, I want you to know that I’ll never let you go.” \n\nKennith wrapped his arms around Justice and squeezed. With a crackling sound, Justice erupted into millions of tiny pieces. Kennith retreated back away from her. Although she was broken, her head and face still could be seen through the cracks. Kennith knew this would be the last time he would see her face so he took a mental picture. Before long her body, now shards of diamonds, floated in random directions and toward the moving light. Kennith reached out and grabbed a piece of Justice floating through the void. It was her eye, the one he had failed to close.\n\n“You still want to see it don’t you? You were always curious Justice” Kennith said smiling and taking the rope from around his neck off. He tied it around the eye and hung it back on his neck. “Now you will always see.”\n\nBefore long Kennith was alone. The moon had faded away and, in its final moments, had split down the middle and ripped through space toward the voided stars. It was fast Kennith noted in his astonishment. With his final moments before he reached the void himself, Kennith grabbed the eye. He squeezed it, warming it up just a bit before he looked down at it, glazed over just as it had been when he had found Justice in the field.\n\n“I’ll be fine Justice. I have you with me and I am not to cold. As long as you are here, I will be okay. \n\nKennith smiled. As the galaxies and clusters and the last of the gases of the universe burned and swirled into the void, Kennith could see that it housed a small, brilliant light.\n\n“Justice?” Kennith murmured as he floated along and around the void. “I think I am god.” \n\nWith a final pull of breath into his lungs, Kennith saw what the void in all of its darkness housed. \n\n“Wow Justice, I am god.”\n\nKennith chuckled.\n", "It started so slowly that it took a long time for anyone to realize what was going on. By the time the first analysts realized what was happening, there were already dozens gone. \n\nIt started with small indie film actors. At first they were only filed as missing persons, but then it got worse. The next to go were the actors who had starred in a C-grade slasher film or two, their lives becoming ironically parallel with their movies. After them, the B-grade actors started vanishing, and this is when people really started to freak out. \n\nThe papers were awash with articles about crazed fans, obsessive exes and theories of an unparalleled serial killer, but nobody had any concrete proof of anything. The police were baffled, and public outcry was reaching higher and higher levels. \n\nFinally, one morning the headline showed that several A-list celebrities were reported missing by their spouses. They had simply disappeared over night, with no trace as to where they had gone. The next morning there were more gone. No actor was safe, no matter how old. If you had ever starred in a film, you were taken. \n\nAfter a while, it stopped. There was nobody left to take. All of the famous actors and actresses of our day were gone. All of the supporting roles, all of the extras, everyone who had ever been on screen in a film was gone. For a while, we thought we were finally at peace. Tens of thousand, hundreds of thousands had been taken, but humanity would remain.\n\nThis was not to last.\n\nMore began disappearing, faster than ever before. Adults, babies, teens and the elderly, from all levels of fame and walks of life. This time we knew almost right away what the connection was.\n\nPhotos.\n\nIf you had ever been in a photo, you were taken. There was almost nobody left, and those that still existed were spread across the globe, in the most inhospitable reaches. There were reports of Amazonian tribes still thriving, and of large population centers in Africa, but this was all just speculation. \n\n\nWe are the last people existing in North America.\n\nWe have been alone for years.\n\nWe were once known as the Amish.\n\n------------------------------------------------------\n\nHope you like it, the prompt was a litttttle open ended so I had fun with it!\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] "The thing most people don't know about me," said the President of the United States, "is that I slept my way to the top."	[ "My vagina has a magic power. Well, it isn't magic like Harry Potter magic, but it has been described as magic on numerous occasions. Once, two guys talked about my vagina after our threesome. \"It was magical,\" one said.\n\n\"Yes, a magical evening.\"\n\n\"No, her vagina. Her vagina is magical.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes. Yes her vagina is magical.\"\n\nI learned to please a man from my momma. She had birthed four different babies by four different men. My father was an insurance salesmen. He was gonna hike up momma's rates, so she hiked down his pants.\n\nI once asked my momma if her pussy was loose from all those babies. \"Fuck no, sugah. I do mah exercises four times a day.\" She showed me how. Since that day I have been a vagina-exercising freak. I'd also watch her as she'd make love. There were men over at the house, in ones and twos, several nights a week.\n\nYou see, the vagina exercises don't just keep it tight, they allow you to grip a man's penis. Once he gets a taste of your muscled-up vagina, he can't stop. Oh, I can deepthroat and tittyfuck and footjob with the best of 'em, but it is my vajajaja that is the true star in the bedroom.\n\nMy screwing days truly got started when I slept with the mayor. You see, I had a lot of parking tickets, and the chief of police was gay or Christian or a gay Christian. So I pursued that mayor. \"I don't need you honey, I got plenty of pussy at home,\" he said. But I didn't give up. Just like momma, I just put my neckline lower and lower until he gave in. His clammy hands were all over my body, worshiping my lovely jugglies.\n\nAfter that, I thought I'd chock up a few more politicians. I'm from a small state, so it wasn't hard to get an interview with the governor. Told them it was about my boy, dying of cancer. Once I got in the room, I licked my lips and told that good ol' boy that I don't got no kids, \"but I want one.\"\n\nHe ravaged my red ribbons like a John Dear tractor. He liked having his nipples squeezed. So do I. That was about all we had in common. But he gave me a job as his secretary, so as I could blow him each evening. After a few months, he took me with him to a convention in Washington DC. There a met the man of my dreams.\n\nHe was rich, hung, and well-connected. No, not a politician, a lobbyist. He would convince congressmen that trees aren't so great. \"They can just grow back,\" was his favorite line. I said that about his penis. I became his secretary, so as I could blow him each evening.\n\nWe were happy in those days. But I wanted more. I had my eyes on the White House. The president at that time was a known womanizer. I showed up at a fundraiser with my funbags hanging out. They were all drooling over me. That is what made him want me. He wanted what everyone else wanted. I brushed my big booty against his thigh while his wicked old crone of a wife leered at me.\n\nWithin a half-hour, a secret service agent was escorting me away. I thought the jealose bitch had got me removed, but I was led to a small room with pictures of Clinton, Kennedy, Grant...all the sex machine presidents. And in the flesh (what flesh!) was the man himself. I almost broke my pussy giving him the old handshake penis quake. He loved it. Took me thrice and threw me in a room. Said \"I'll be back, I want you all week.\"\n\nA week turned into a month and before I knew it, I was secretary of agriculture (and doggy style). During this time, I kept my eye out for up-and-cumers. There was a nice, distinguished looking senator from California who liked to eat my asshole. I'll never understand why men like my asshole so much. I have one the world's top 5 vaginas, yet they want to toss my salad. Men!?!\n\nAnyway, I talked him into running for president and making me his VP. We had a tough campaign, but I fucked the opposing campaign manager and got all of his secrets. He liked a finger in his butt. You'r fucking me? No, I'm fucking you.\n\nIn to the White House we went. That old governor tried to destroy us. I hate jealosy. When I'm done fucking you, I'm done fucking you. That doesn't mean you can spread rumors about me even if they are true. Being the Vice-President is the easiest job in the world. Gave me lots of time to get my vagina into top shape. I was almost 50 by then, but you couldn't tell. I made Sarah Palin look like Janet Reno.\n\nBut I couldn't wait 8 years for my chance to run for the top job. I had to destroy this boy, this boy I'd been letting jizz in my vizz. I hired hookers, dozens of hookers. DC is crawling with them. Snuck them into the White House and the press had a field day. He resigned in shame.\n\nI didn't pay the hookers, just gave them vagina-gymnastics lessons.", "\"The thing most people don't know about me,\" said the President of United States, \"is that I slept my way to the top.\"\n\nCongressmen gasped and shared looks. Some hugging their forehead with their palms.\n\n\"B-But you were always working! How can you-,\" Dick Cheney was blooming in a state of silence, emotional disrepair and fumes.\n\nObama giggled. This would definitely make the press. It would definitely scare Russia. For such a figure to manage global issues, nobody predicted eight hours of sleep per day.", "\"I admit it,\" Obama said as he saw the shocked audience. \"I am a narcoleptic. I sometimes doze off randomly in the middle of...\"\n\nThe sound of snoring could be heard as the president's head began to slump before a member of the Secret Service quickly ran over and caught Obama before he hit the ground. \"Don't worry,\" the agent said. \"This happens all the time. Sure, we had to threaten Putin to stop him exposing this.\"", "\"I know many of you have raised questions about my education.\" The newly elected President stated. This was one of his first press conferences since his election and the Presidents somewhat unusual behavior and shady past \"Many have questioned how someone with little to no education, who dropped out of college, was able to make such well thought out policy decisions. Wll my friends, time to tell you all the truth.\" \"The thing most people don't know about me,\" said the President of the United States, \"is that I slept my way to the top.\" \nThere was a murmur of shock throughout the room. Cameras clicked and journalists frantically scribbled in their notebooks. News of the President using sex to reach his position would be the story of the decade. But why would the president up and confess when there had been no accusations against him previously? \nThe president said nothing until one brave reporter in the front row raised his hand. \nThe President pointed at him. \n\"Mr. President, who exactly did you sleep with to reach this position?\" \n\"No one of course.\" The President replied. \"There was only room for one in the pod.\" \nThe confusion in the room increased dramatically. \n\"Um... What pod, Mr. President?\" the reporter asked. \n\"The Dormant Education, Enhancement and Programming sleep pod, or DEEP sleep pod for short of course.\" The president stated matter-of-factly. \"Fantastic technology too, I've really learned a lot from it.\" \nThe President gazed around the room at the shocked and confused faces. \n\"Well you see, I was first put into the pod by the EEEOOOOWWWWW!!!!!!\" \nA secret service agent had casually walked up to the President and tazed him. The President slumped to the floor. Two more agents picked him up and started carrying him out the door. The first agent replaced his taser in his pocket and took the podium. \n\"This press conference is over as the President needs some rest. Obviously a full investigation to the incident will be conducted shortly. Thank you and uh... God Bless America.\" \nHe then walked away from the podium leaving the reporters in profound confusion.", "There is a good reason no one had ever seen the President's real bedroom.\n\nOne man, the only one he could trust with this kind of secret--he could know. He was ready. First, a phone call--\n\n\"Johnson?\" The President of the United States of America asked, gravelly voice quiet, like it would cheat the tap on his phone line.\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"I need you in my office.\"\n\nAnd with that, he hung up--the less they knew, the better. Maybe his phone wasn't tapped, he didn't know. He hadn't slept with the head of the CIA yet. No way to know for sure.\n\nJohnson opened the door a crack, straightening his tie as he peeked inside. \"Mr. President?\"\n\n\"You're supposed to knock, Johnson.\"\n\n\"I--sorry, sir.\"\n\n\"Johnson, come a little closer.\"\n\nJohnson blinked, and edged towards him. The president wasn't a very imposing man. Five foot seven on a good day with a hearty breakfast. Thin, failing eyesight, but impeccably dressed, and an incredibly sharp mind that leaked out through his eyeballs.\n\nThe president's eyes never left him.\n\n\"You know me. You know me more than anyone else in this entire building.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe president leaned forward.\n\n\"Surely you've heard me say that sleep is for the weak. That a second spent with eyes closed is a second wasted.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. I've heard that.\"\n\nThe president stood, taking slow steps around his desk. He was shorter than Johnson by a good margin, yet Johnson never felt so small.\n\n\"What if I told you I solved that? You see, during my first senate term, I began sleeping more. Eight hours instead of five or six. Did that strike you as odd, Johnson?\"\n\n\"Um...yes--no, sir, it--\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter. The important thing is this: the one thing most people don't know about me,\" said the President of the United States with a flat mouth and solid eyes--\"is that I slept my way to the top.\"\n\nJohnson pulled a face. For half a second, but it was a face.\n\n\"You think I had sex.\"\n\n\"Um--\"\n\nThe president broke into a grin. \"Well, I did that too--but that's not what I mean. Come with me. I have something important to show you.\"\n\nHe led Johnson down the hall outside of the Oval Office, to a little closet, only used by maids and on occasion, Johnson himself.\n\n\"What's in here?\" he asked, as soon as the President closed the door behind them.\n\n\"In here,\" the President said, \"is the future.\"\n\nBehind a mop bucket was a tiny lever--no longer than a thumb knuckle. He flicked it, and the back wall slid silently away.\n\nA light clicked on in the distance.\n\n\"After you,\" the President said, giving Johnson a light push.\n\nThey walked--Johnson stumbled, but the President most definitely walked--down the new hall, a space that Johnson had never thought possible in the White House. \n\nJohnson stopped at the end.\n\nThe room contained nothing but a bed and machines. A helmet, monitors, all kinds of gently flashing a beeping machinery that he couldn't make heads or tails of.\n\nIt looked somewhat like a hospital ward.\n\n\"This is how I made it, Johnson. It's been in different places over the years, but this is it. How I slept to the top. See, I can lucid dream on command. And this--to put it simply--lets me make other people lucid dream. The way I want them to.\"\n\n\"Mind...control?\"\n\nThe President smiled. \"Something like that.\"\n\nJohnson began to feel very sick. It wasn't a nauseous feeling--it was a kind of sickness of the head, like a world falling out of place. Like too many things becoming irrelevant too fast.\n\n\"I...need to sit down.\"\n\n\"Take your time,\" the President said. \"After all, there's always nighttime for my work.\"", "\"The thing most people don't know about me,\" said the President of the United States, \"is that I slept my way to the top.\"\n\nStanding at her desk with a plastered smile as she prepared her speech for the presidential dinner, Hillary crumpled as she looked at Nancy's eyes rolling as she listened on the couch.\n\n\"Yeah, I don't think we should go with that,\" Nancy said quietly. \"For one, most people do know and two we should stay away from any sexual connotations.\"\n\n\"Well, how else am I supposed to introduce the bastard!\"\n\n\"How about, here's my husband former president...\"\n\nHillary shook, \"I don't want to acknowledge that!\"\n\n\"That he was president or...\"\n\n\"That he's my husband. When the divorce goes through I don't want it on record that I said that.\"\n\nGrudgingly nancy flipped through the papers on her lap looking for her timeline schedule. \"I still think we should wait until the second term to go through with it. People don't really want to vote for a divorcee, except... well, Reagan, but no one's done it in office before.\"\n\n\"Well,\" Hillary said as she sat down, \"we've been through a lot of firsts.\"\n\nConcerned Nancy replied as she walked up: \"I just don't want your term to have a lot of lasts.\"\n\n\"Where on that schedule are you going to tell them about our first.\" Hillary said softly.\n\nNancy reached over and caressed her chin, \"When they're ready, we'll tell them about us, and your abortion.\"\n\nThe film stopped and the stern pasty old man's face returned as he flipped on the lights in the south florida classroom. The old man in a red and blue suit stood in front of the classroom and with a booming voice added: \"This is why you shouldn't vote for Hillary Clinton in the next election. She does not support family values. Marco Rubio does and you should tell your parents to vote for him.\"\n\nA little girl in the back asked, \"Sir why are you showing this to us, doesn't it impede on several regulatory...\"\n\nThe frame skipped forward. This as where it gets... eugh... informative and very fake. James skipped to a white screen with an infographic about banned books and a voiceover interrupted: \"...lies in the classroom, the privatization of prisons, why would you vote for Marco Rubio?\"\n\nPausing the youtube video James clicked closed \"Hilary Clinton's Lesbian Affair\" and sighed. Political advertisements were just getting too meta, and even the internet wasn't safe.\n\n", "\"The thing most people don't know about me,\" said President George W. Bush, \"is that I slept my way to the top.\" \n \n\"I was asleep during the first election, was sleep-inaugurated I reckon. Heck, I didn't even wake up that first year until Dicky nudged me with his boot and told me I had to go tell a goat story to a bunch of little kids. And look how bad THAT day turned out. After that I resigned to sleep as much as possible.\" \n \nHe yawns. \"I figure if it ain't broke, don't fix it, and America, you ain't not broken. But if reelected I promise I'll put the same amount of work in in the next five years as I did in the first. I'll work for this country '24x7': 24 hours a week, seven weeks a year. God bless America. Amen.\" ", "“The thing most people don’t know about me,” Obama said, “is that I slept my way to the top.” He glanced over at Hillary and winked. \n\n“I’m not so sure now is the best time,” Hillary said, pressing her palm to her forehead.\n\n“Like hell it isn’t,” Obama said, taking a sip from the brown-bagged bottle in front of him. “Now is the best god damn time for this discussion.” He turned back toward the rows of seats in front of him. “I don’t understand how people don’t realize it. The Presidency is basically a slutty popularity contest. You should have seen the things Bush did for power. I will now open the floor to questions.”\n\nThe room remained silent, save for the occasional click of a camera’s shutter. A small, thin hand slowly rose into the air.\n\n“Yes, you,” Obama said with a hiccup. “Speak.”\n\nA small boy, no older than ten, stood up. He was wearing a poor-fitting, black suit, the jacket at least a size too big. \n\n“Hello, Mr. President,” said the boy. “My name is Timmy, I am in third grade. What is your favorite sport?”\n\n“Are hookers a sport?” Obama said, tipping back the brown-bagged bottle into his mouth. “If so, hookers. If not, then still hookers. Next question.”\n\n“Mr. President,” Hillary muttered, taking a step closer to him. She was now just about teen feet away. \n\nAnother thin, young hand slowly rose up.\n\n“You, with the hand,” Obama said.\n\n“Hello,” said a young girl. She wore a loose, red-and-white blouse, her hair tied tightly back in a ponytail. “My name is Sarah, I’m a fourth grader. I play the flute. Do you like to play any instruments?”\n\n“That question sucks,” Obama said, slamming the brown bag against the pulpit. “Next question.”\n\n“Barack,” Hillary whispered. “You’re in a god damn elementary school. For once, can you please behave yourself?”\n\n“I am behaving myself,” Obama said, ending the sentence with an inexplicably vulgar hiccup. “Next damn question.”\n\nA third thin, tiny hand rose into the air.\n\n“Didn’t I already call on you? Or was that a different hand? You people all look the same,” Obama said, pausing. “And that isn’t racist,” he added. “You’ve all got hands.”\n\n“No, sir,” said a small boy. He, too, wore an over-sized suit, but his a beige color. “I haven’t asked anything yet.”\n\n“You sure haven’t,” Obama said. “Next question.”\n\n“But I didn’t say my question,” the child said. \n\n“Too late,” Obama said.\n\n“Answer his question,” Hillary snarled. \n\n“Fine, what’s your stupid question,” Obama said, taking another sip from the bag.\n\n“My name is Mark, I am in fifth grade. I wanted to know what you meant by ‘sleeping your way to the top.’”\n\n“Finally,” Obama said, placing the bag down on the pulpit. “A good damn question. How familiar are you with sex?”\n\n“Mr. President,” Hillary shouted. “For the love of god!”\n\n“Get off it, Hillary,” Obama said. “These kids are—how old are you, Mack?”\n\n“Ten,” Mark said. “And my name is Mark.”\n\n“These kids are ten years old already, Hilary. Marco over here wants to know what I meant. I can’t just ignore his question.”\n\nHillary returned her palm to her face.\n\n“Anyway, Martin, for the sake of this answer, I am going to assume you not too familiar with what sex is. Let’s just go ahead and say it’s when a man sticks his willy in a woman’s wolly. Please note the ‘i’ in ‘willy’ and the ‘o’ and ‘wolly.’ There is imagery associated with them. So, to answer your question, I used my willy strategically to climb the political ladder. In fact, every single president since John Adams did this. You should hear what Bush did.”\n\n“What did Bush do?” said a tiny voice from the audience.\n\n“Another good question,” Obama continued. He picked up the brown bag and tilted it back, lifting it until it was almost vertical. “Do any of you know what a Mississippi Flashbulb is?”\n\n“No,” said a different, high-pitched voice.\n\n“Really?” Obama said. “How about the Alaskan Turnstile?”\n\n“Nope,” said another voice.\n\n“Michigan Steam Engine with Toast and Bacon?”\n\n“Yes,” squeaked several voices. \n\n“Good,” Obama said. “He basically did that for six days straight with anyone who so much as looked his way, straight from the floor of the senate. I had to wear rain boots every time I walked by for a week. Next question.”\n\n“I think we’re done here,” Hilary said, walking over to the microphone and pushing it away from Obama’s mouth. “What the hell are you doing? You promised you’d behave, this is your last public appearance as President.”\n\n“I’m teaching these kids the truth,” Obama said, trying to pull the microphone back toward his face.\n\n“You’re drunk, you need to stop,” Hillary said. “Even if you can’t get impeached, you can still get sued.”\n\n“No, you’re drunk,” Obama said with a hiccup. He grabbed the microphone. “Kids, I’m not leaving. I want to explain to you the importance of getting into drugs at an early age. Also, don’t trust the government. I’m pretty sure it’s being run by lizard people.”\n\n“Barack!” Hilary shouted, pulling the microphone away again, her wrist knocking into the brown bag. It toppled over, landing on its side with a loud clink. “I know you aren’t up for re-election, but you can’t just go around revealing all these government secrets to preteens. You’re also making me look bad, remember who has to replace you. I didn't sleep around for nothing.”\n\n“God fucking dammit,” Obama said, pausing and pulling the microphone back toward his mouth. “God fucking dammit,” he repeated, this time directly into the microphone. He glanced down at the toppled bag, liquid now pooling beneath it, then down at the crowd. Rows of children, each wearing their finest outfits, stared back at him, eyes wide and mouths agape. “She spilled my liquor,” he said. “I’m out this bitch.” \n\nObama grabbed the microphone out of its stand, took a step back, and dropped it on the floor. He then folded the fingers on his right hand into a \"peace\" sign before turning and walking off stage. \n\nThe crowd of children erupted into tremendous applause." ]	8
	[WP] Your dad suddenly left and never came back, the only thing he left was a wooden box... with something extraordinary in it.	[ "My father left when I was twenty one, and he was forty seven. I was the last one out of the house, not including him; my two sisters having done their college thing and married. If it surprised my mother that my father left her after nearly thirty years of rock-solid marriage, she didn't show it. She gathered us at Louise's house (my oldest sister) and matter-of-factly told us that Dad had moved to Dubai for work and we wouldn't see him again, not as part of the family. We got a text from him later that week, just after we'd started to come out of our individual states of shock and started wondering aloud if she'd murdered him; it didn't seem likely, but neither did the anchor of our younger existence suddenly exiting stage left.\n\nThe text was infuriating. Goodbye kids, I have every faith in you. I love you. Dad. Louise got very quiet after that, and wouldn't discuss it without a lot of wheedling. I think she hated him for the confusion he'd wrought. Our mother was, if anything, even more of a trigger for our hurt… she was, at least, accessible, but no more helpful. He's gone, she'd say, be glad he was here. It was like some weird death analogy. Neave, who was their middle child, moved back home for a while 'to keep mom company'. Mom let her stay a week and then shoo'd her out again, and she got nowhere during that week as far as I knew. \n\nI was busy with college, and could not find a way, over the phone, to make her tell me what was going on. Calls to Dad went unanswered. Conversations between my sisters and I would trail off into vague 'maybe this, maybe that' scenarios, or end on decisive 'we'll make her tell us at Christmas' notes. Then Christmas rolled around and our mother announced she was going to Argentina to stay with her friends Lucy and Max for two months. I could use the house, of course, and hold Christmas there if I wanted to. Louise and Neave both decided to do Christmas at their own homes, and so it was that I found myself drifting, in a peculiar state of nostalgic numbness, through our family home on Christmas day, trying and failing, for about the millionth time, to plausibly explain what had happened to my father. I was on 'CIA agent' and weaving a pretty involved back-story.\n\nWe'd each gotten a card from him. A phone call between us that morning had ascertained this. I hadn't opened mine yet… I was already in a strange enough head-space, and wishing I'd taken up Neave's offer to have her toddlers crawl all over me for a week and a half. \n\nI was holding the unopened envelope in one hand and a generous glass of my Dad's favourite whisky in the other when I wandered down into the basement. I thought I might find some of my old things down here, since my room had been pared down to guest-room status. Instead, I found it had been completely cleared of all it's former junk and storage, and a small folding table stood in the centre of the room, with a box on it.\n\nThe hair on my arms began to prickle. \n\nI told myself it was just a box. Neutral, neither benign nor threatening. A box in the basement wasn't so weird, presentation aside. Maybe I'd ignore it and go back upstairs and see if my stuff was in the attic. I was already moving towards it while I was telling myself this. Maybe I should phone Neave? I glanced at my watch. Almost eleven. She'd be exhausted after Christmas day with the kids, probably already in bed. Louise's I-don't-care stance, would take more effort to break through than I was prepared to give right now.\n\nI opened the box.\n\nIt was relief to see a pile of photographs… some were polaroid style, others, further back, seemed more up to date; they were stacked in a bundle, in reverse chronological order, and I was already smiling as I took them out because I recognised our family. \n\nWell. Wait.\n\nNo, I didn't. I took a good long look at the top photo, then a good long look at my diminished glass of whisky and tried to calculate if one could be responsible for the other.\n\nIn the top photo, a family smiled back at me from under the magnolia tree in our back yard; myself, both sisters, both parents and another little boy. The little boy had a brace around his back, and his leg, but was looking cheerful enough. Mom's hand was ruffling his hair, and the mop of it had become almost a halo as the camera caught the shot. He looked about five, and very much like part of us, but I'd never seen him before. In the picture I was eight, perhaps, and wearing a sling around my arm. I looked less cheerful, slightly dazed, in fact. I recognised my put-on smile, the one I resorted to when distressed but determined to put on a good front.\n\nMy issue with the photo was not that there was a strange little boy in it, or that I could not remember ever breaking or badly injuring my arm, but that my father was missing a leg. He sat at the side of the frame, rather than behind us, in a clunky pre-eighty's wheelchair, with Neave's arms around his neck, hugging him close. There were livid scars on her chin, jaw and neck that even the polaroid quality photo couldn't diffuse. This family… this family, had been in an accident. A bad one. There were another couple of pictures from the same day; I got the idea that this was Louise's fifteenth or sixteenth birthday. She hovered at the back looking brave, looking lost, looking I-don't-care. This was us, and yet it was not. My arms were not the only thing prickling now; my entire body had goose-bumps.\n\nI shifted these photos to one side. There were a couple that, had I not seen the first group, I might have mistaken for our own lives - Louise and Mom at a park, me chasing Neave around a lake, my arm apparently healed enough to torment my sisters. Then another 'family' photo. This one much subdued. It looked like Grandpa's place, before it was sold. Neave and Louise sitting on the ground with the little boy between them, his back and neck braced this time. Neave's scars were better, but still visible despite the hair she had grown out. Mom looked thinner and much sadder, kneeling next to them. I had taken up the hovering-at-the-back spot, and my smile looked weak.\n\nDad wasn't in it. Maybe he was taking it. But I didn't think so.\n\nTears were rolling down my face now, and I sat on the floor in front of the table, with the stack of photos, flipping through the lives of this version of my family. Mom disappeared. Louise, at far too young an age, seemed to have taken over the care of the little boy, who adopted a wheelchair (Dad's?), and lost the brace. He no longer looked like the tot that had graced the first picture with cheerfulness, although there was something of my put-on smile in his. There were some shots of me with Grandma, looking bleak and shut down. There was a school-shot of Neave, self-conscious enough to have started covering the scars, with dates on the back. Two dates. Birth and death. I gulped whisky and cried for her.\n\nTo my surprise, Mom reappeared in some of the photos. She looked ill, but was obviously making an effort. Louise stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her, and I sat next to the little boy's wheelchair; this one was in the front yard. We were back together, for a very small selection of photos.\n\nFurther back through the pile, and now Mom was gone forever. You could tell by the time between pictures; it was always Mom who made us get photos taken. Now Louise seemed to have bullied me into frame, next to our younger brother who didn't exist. I might have been seventeen. She looked hard, stubborn. I looked petulant. Our brother looked like the saddest kid in existence.\n\nI disappeared. Off to uni? Hard to imagine how. My parents had both worked hard to send us. Medical bills, lack of support, was I the sort of kid who made an effort on his own behalf under those circumstances? I worried that I was not. The idea that I could have let the memory of my parents down, and not been a help to Louise with that broken kid, ate at me. Then again, perhaps I'd lost the petulance and lived up to their promise. Perhaps. I wondered if I was going mad. None of this had happened. I was doing fine. Just fine.\n\nThe last photo was hard to take. It was our brother, aged about nineteen. He was in a hospital bed, with ventilator tubes and other things sticking out of him. He seemed conscious, looking at the photographer. Who had chronicled that moment? Me? Louise? Why were neither of us next to him?\n\nI stood up, shaking. I put the photos carefully back in the box, realising as I did so that I'd piled them on top of the envelope with Dad's card in it. I relinquished my grip on the whisky glass, and opened the seal.\n\n\"We figured you'd find the box first. Neave next, okay? We love you. You'll be fine.\" Mom's handwriting, not Dad's. I wiped my eyes, and tucked the box under my arm. Neave and Louise would both need to see these. When they did they would understand where our parents had gone, that Mom wasn't in Argentina, nor Dad in Dubai; why they had waited until we were all okay here, and that they were needed… somewhere else. \n\nAs for everything else that left for us to try to understand, at least we had a reason, and that's all any of us had been waiting for.", "I haven't seen dad in quite some time. I forget how long it's been, it seems like an eternity since I last saw or spoke with him. According to my mom, he just left one day, for all I know he is dead. Hopefully not, but I'm not sure why he left in the first place? Wouldn't he want to be with his family? Being as though I'm twelve years old, I've thought a lot about this. It seems like my friends have dads, why don't I? It's a question that doesn't have an easy answer to go with him. It's a Saturday, normally dads would be throwing a ball with their kids or maybe mowing the lawn. My mom comes in my room, \"Shawn, I have something for you\" I looked up and she had a wooden box in her hand. \"I was cleaning in the basement and found this box. There's a note to you from your dad, it looks like he left you this\" My interest piqued immediately and I got curious. What in the world had Dad wanted me to have? It fits in a wooden box...pictures maybe? The box is heavy. There was a latch that I could easily open, so I did. I realize my mom says there's a note, but I'll read it later. When I open it, there are a bunch of gold coins. There must be 20-30 coins in the box. I take a look at the note \"For Shawn for your college education\" Curious. These must be valuable. I went to the internet to look up gold prices, open up to Google and start searching. Oh my gosh, gold is almost two thousand an ounce!? There's at least 20 coins in each that each say \"One ounce\" so I have at least $30 thousand dollars?!?!?! My mouth dropped open. My mom comes back in the room, so honey what was in the box? I gave her a shocked look as I explained what's happened..... \n\nEdit: wanted to add this is 334 words", "I don't remember my father, I don't remember his face, or his arms holding me as I was a child. \nI don't remember him feeding me. \nI don't remember him leaving on my first day of school. \nI don't remember him leaving me nothing but a wooden box. \nI don't remember him teaching me to shave. \nI don't remember him helping me when I was bullied at school. \nI don't remember him showing me the world. \nI don't remember him helping me through the heartache of my first break-up. \nI don't remember him helping me to rent my first flat. \nI don't remember him on my wedding day. \nI don't remember him being there to hold his grandson. \nI don't remember him being there for his wife's funeral. \nI don't remember opening the box because I didn't. \nBecause I don't need him. ", "One morning Dad went to the store, \nTen years have passed, I miss him more. \nHe kissed my as he headed out, \n\"Be good kiddo - see you scout.\" \n\nHe never sent a birthday card, \nSomething in my soul is scarred, \nAnd all I have is a wooden box, \nIt stays shut, though it has no locks. \n\nInside I store my memories of him. \nIts empty but full to the brim, \nOf things I wish we'd done, or said \nBut now those wishes are all dead. \n\nHe left us on a cold September day, \nHe left and took the sun away, \nI haven't seen it come back yet. \nI wonder if he feels regret. \n\n\n\n", "Part One\n\nMy father was a businessman.\n\nActually he was a collector, but he never liked to call what he did collecting. As part of his job, he would travel to some unknown destination for weeks on end.\n\nDuring these times, I came to notice that my mother wasn't quite herself. When I was young, I'd sometimes slip out of bed and creep downstairs. The first few times I did this, my mom would see me and carry me back to bed. Eventually, I figured out that I could hide and observe my mom, something that comforted me for some reason.\n\nFrom the bottom of the stairs, I would hide and sneak glances into the living room where my mom was. The TV would be on, usually muted so I could sleep — oops — and she would be on the couch. However, my mom wouldn't be watching. Curling up, she usually grasped a pillow like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Her cheeks would usually be wet from tears. After watching her for ten minutes or so, I'd eventually make my way back to bed.\n\nWhen my father would come home, though, she would fill with elation and they would embrace. Holding each other so tight that I sometimes expected them to never let go. When he let go, my father's attention would eventually turn to me. With a big smile, he'd hug me with a similar intensity. He always so ecstatic to see us. What would happen next is the reason I refer to him as a collector.\n\nHe'd set me down — shivers running up my spine as my feet met chilly stone-tiled floor — and place his leather briefcase on the hall table; I remember it being engraved with his initials, FTF; Frederick Thomas Falconer, a name we shared. There were two locks on the suitcase and four-number combinations were required for each, followed by the use of two separate keys.\n\nThe locks would click as they relinquished their hold on the lid which he would then carefully lift. Always awaiting him at the top of the case was his gift for me: a book.\n\nActually, there were two books. One was for me and one was for him. His books were typically large and bound in brown or black leather; he would take these into his bedroom and I'd never see them again. I didn't care about those books.\n\nThe books for me were not your everyday books; they were in and of themselves works of art. Carefully bound, some would be wrapped in cloth, some in vinyl. And occasionally a leather one would make an appearance. \n\nThe colors would vary, but each was spectacular in nature. There were radiant reds, beautiful blues, gorgeous greens, and pulchritudinous purples. Each time my father would delicately remove it with two hands and bequeath it to me. And every time, I would receive the same set of instructions followed by a question.\n\n\"Freddy, this book is being placed under your care; it is your responsibility to watch over it. Do you accept this duty?\" He always asked that with such formality; it was like a game.\n\n\"Yes!\" I'd excitedly yell in return.\n\nThe first few times I received these gifts, I'd tuck the volume under my arm and sprint to the couch to open it. One day, though, I dropped it in the rush. The book was fine, but my father walked over to me and picked it up with a stern face.\n\n\"You must treat this book with the utmost care; nothing shall ever happen to it. Do you understand?\" His eyes would stared into mine with a calm gravity behind them. My eyes looking down, I slowly nodded my head. He handed me the book, and I firmly held it with both hands. Slowly, I escorted the book to the coffee table. After that day, I would always handle the books this way.\n\nSoftly, I would place the book down and open the cover. I was met with a series of creaks that signified a book untravelled. The lengths were different with every book: some 20 pages long and others 100.\n\nOpening the books for the first time, I would turn the pages — mostly made from parchment, occasionally a fabric — with utmost care, tracing each picture with my fingers, getting lost in them without reading.\n\nIllustrations were common in my books, each edition differing in style. Some done only in ink, with long, intricate strokes. Some done with vibrant water-colors. And other done in simple sketches with pencils. No illustrations were the same. One thing was common with every book, though: the theme. All of them concerned fairytales. The myths would come from different cultures — English, Irish, German, Chinese, Russian, etc. — but they all were filled with magic and fantastical creatures.\n\nWith every first look at these books, I would avoid reading. That act was reserved for my father.\n\nThe original reading of each book was done by him at bedtime. He would take on voices for each new character and creature; hissing for dragons, cackling for witches, using a clumsy bass for the trolls. I'd get lost as my protector led me through those journeys, calming when I would hide under the sheets in fear. He did this until I was twelve years old. \n\nThen he left.\n\nHe was on one of his usual trips, a few days in, when my mother received a phone call. Watching TV, I didn't think much of it until my mother's hand covered her mouth and she fell into one of the kitchen chairs in shock. She thanked whoever had called, hung up, and burst into tears. She then informed me that my father wouldn't be returning home and we hugged for hours, the tops of our shirts soaking in each others' tears.\n\nDespite the countless questions, my mother never told me what had happened to my father, and I stopped asking around the time I turned 16. The imagination that he had fostered came up with wild explanations. He was an undercover agent, shot by a spy. He was a superhero who had to go into hiding. He was a time-traveler who got caught in the Middle Ages. But I knew that he'd likely died in a car accident or something boring like that.\n\nThe rainbow of books took up an entire case made up of six rows, each three feet long. Every so often, I would pull one out and catch up on my fairytales, but I eventually grew out of that and the books collected dust.\n\nThe last time I saw my father was six years ago. Today I turned 18.\n\nI woke up to a wooden box at the foot of my bed, likely placed there by my mother. A perfect cube with each side a foot in length, the box was made of beautiful mahogany, but it was worn with small scratches here and there. A bronze clasp held the box closed. Sidling down to end of the bed, I placed my fingers along its edges.\n\nIt perplexed me, but that wasn't going to stop me from opening it. The clasp rattled as I pop it open, and the box squeaked as I lifted the top. Inside was a key and an aged-yellow, folded note. I pulled out the note and opened it; it was a latter.\n\n>Dear, son,\n\n>I hope the day never comes when you receive this letter, but if you're reading this it obviously has.\n\n>If your mother has followed the instructions I gave her the day you were born, then today is your 18th birthday. Happy birthday; I wish I was there to celebrate with you. Today you officially become an adult in more ways than one.\n\n>It is time you know why I disappeared from your life. I don't know the exact reasoning, but it likely has to do with my profession. I won't delve into what that is. There is always a chance that this letter is stolen or accidentally read by someone else, which would put you and your mother at risk. I will say this; the books I always brought you were given to you with a specific purpose.\n\n>At the local library, on the top floor, there is a bookcase at the back. This part of the library is rarely ever visited. Take the key inside of this box and go there. Pull the book entitled \"An Essential History.\" What you need to do next should be self-explanatory.\n\n>Your life is about to change entirely, son. Just do me a favor and don't tell your mother about this.\n\n>I love you,\n\n>Dad\n\n>P.S. Remember your name.\n" ]	5
	[WP] Write the legend of a little known Greek god.	[ "Gather around, young ones, and let me tell you an ancient tale, of the great and terrible Paul!\n\nYes, that was his name. Anyway, before there was time and space, even before the void, there was nothing. Only Paul. Understandably, Paul was becoming rather lonely from being surrounded by nothing, so He created a universe for His entertainment. He found it to be quite dull, and ended up destroying it. So, He created another universe. This was even duller than the first one, so He turned it into a bird- I don't care what old Thucydides told you! That's where birds came from, I swear to the Gods. With the third universe, He decided to mix it up and make it entirely swampland. Somehow, the entire universe burst into flame and imploded into the swamp. But the fourth universe stayed, and that's the one we're in! Then came the Void, Gaea, the Titans, the Gods, humanity, and other stuff that would be good context for a young adult adventure series. However, Paul began to find our universe increasingly boring. Humans seemed stupid to Him, there were no truly interesting demigods, the Gods were all infighting, stuck-up sociopaths, and the Titans were doing a fantastic job of being dead. So, Paul presented the Gods with an ultimatum: they will entertain Him, or else he would destroy the universe and everyone in it.\n\nSo, Zeus had an idea: comedy! He invited all the other Gods back to Olympus, where they'd live as \"one big happy family\" (shocker: they didn't). Zeus called it \"The Godly Group\" or something like that, and it was the funniest entertainment on this side of Sophocles! Or Aristophanes, I don't keep track of the famous playwrights these days. Still, Paul Himself blessed me with visions of their shenanigans. One time, Aphrodite got a zit on her nose so big, she didn't leave her chambers for a week! Ares and Hephaestus kept fighting over whether or not hammers were classified as tools or weapons, Poseidon was really focused on building toy ships, Hades was focused on setting the ships on fire, and Hera somehow managed to hold it all together. Zeus even forced Athena to write witty little aphorisms for him to say at the end of every escapade. Eventually, they decided to stop doing it after a few years, but Paul didn't seem to care, or even notice. He was too busy watching the reruns.\n\nBut they say that one day, He will notice that He's seen this episode before, and Paul will have his revenge...", "Amaltia, the God of Valor, was a lost son of Zeus. Cast away by his father for his lack of control and the constant urge to do battle, be it with his brothers, or to take a mortal shell and do battle with the humans. As his bloodlust grew out of control, Zeus banished him from Olympus to the world of men to live out his time in his mortal form. \n\nAs the years went on, Amaltia grew cold hearted and weary, with his thirst for blood not sated by the humans. He was contacted by Hades, his Uncle, who too knew the sting of banishment. He offered a way to free him of his mortal form and a way to get revenge on his father for casting him out of his home. As Hades produced a blade of pure darkness, he told Amaltia if the blade was soaked in the blood of three demigods whose blood flow within the target, this sword may indeed slay a god. With Zeus gone, his for mer glory would be restored and he would be in control.\n\nHe started with Perseus, leaving the boy within an inch of his life, and tearing off a blood soaked bit of cloth. Then he challenged Ares, the God of War, to a duel. Hades was truly impressed at his puppets sword skill as he bested the God of War and removed an arm off of the defeated god. The final blood came as Hercules was also thrown aside by the might of the God of Valor. \nThese were no children of Zeus, none of them matched a real god such as himself. Pitiful excuses for siblings they were.\n\nValor shall have its return to Olympus, and as the Rise of Valor is at hand, the thunderbolt drops and the heavens will weap." ]	2
	[WP] Hangman is played with real people	[ "(This was genuinely the first thing I thought of... weird, I know.)\n\nJamil sat with the others in the pen. Through the bars he could see the crowd of courtiers gathering to watch the game. The king and his young queen already sat on the two thrones installed in front of the platform, and a servant stood by a blackboard holding a piece of chalk on a long pole. It was whispered among the slaves that this was his only job.\n\nThe servant moved over to the queen, who wrote on a slate and held it out to him. He read, and bowed to the king.\n\n\"I choose... T.\"\n\nThe chalk pointed to the centre of the platform. Jamil walked out, remembering to abase himself as he crossed the king's line of sight. He stood where the servant indicated and took up the appointed position.\n\nHe hoped the end of the game would come soon; it tired his arms to hold them out while the king puzzled over a word. Still, it could be worse; he lived in fear of a time when he would have to make Q.", "The town center was crowded and smelled strongly of body odor. The dust that had settled over the crowd gave all of the people a muted look. The sun beat down on the heads of the townsfolk. They pushed and shoved people forward until the square could hold no more bodies. The gallows in the center of the crowd had four men and a woman on it. \n\nOne of the men stepped forward to speak and a hush fell over the crowd. The man was tall and dressed in a suit of deep black with a shining buckle in the shape of a skull and a bolo tie to match. The metal gleamed in the sunlight, as did the smile that briefly cracked his face as he looked over his audience. This was the best part of his job. \n\n“Today,” he began in a low southern drawl, “I bring before you an atrocious criminal who faces death. It will be up to this woman here as to whether or not this young man dies. You are here to witness a game of life and death. I like to call it Hang-man.”\n \nAt this the crowd began to retreat as they didn’t want to take part in any game where a man’s life is at risk. No matter the crime no man deserved to be toyed with before his death. As they backed up away from the gallows men appeared at all the exits from the square and leveled firearms at the villagers. \n\n“As I said, you are here to witness a game. How can you be a witness if you aren’t around to see anything?” the man asked incredulously. “Now… let’s get down to our little bit of business, shall we?”\n\nAs the man finished speaking one of the two large men behind him approached and handed him some white squares of stiff parchment. “I,” he slowly began, “am going to need some volunteers.” When the square stayed quiet and nobody rushed to the forefront of the crowd the man became angry and pulled his gun from its holster at his hip and fired blindly into the crowd. \n\n“Jeffie! Not my poor Jeffie...” The agonized scream that came from the middle of the crowd seemed quiet after the abrupt thunder of the pistol. \n\n“Anybody? Anyone at all?” The man began to raise his gun again and the crowd threw their hands into the air. The man picked seven random citizens who were ushered to the front of the gallows and handed one of the stiff pieces of paper. “The rules to this game are simple, I have picked a word and this word is written on these pieces of paper. The kind lady here will be picking random letters trying to spell this word. If she guesses wrong three times I am going to hang this here young man. Now, if nobody has any questions, let’s begin.” \n\nThe man turned to the woman who had been sitting on the gallows with a shell shocked look on her face like she couldn’t believe what was happening. Hearing that it was time to begin though she looked up with a look of determination on her ragged features and with a surprisingly strong voice proclaimed “E” and then was silent. \n\nOne of the pieces of paper was flipped, it was the last letter. \n\n“A” she proclaimed. A moment later the young man was brought forward and had the noose fitted around his neck. \n\n“That there would be your second mistake,” the man in black said quietly into her ear. \n\n“U,” she spat in his face “you bastard.”\n\n“Lucky, lucky you,” the man said as the second letter was flipped. \n\n“I”\n\nThe fifth letter was flipped. \n\n“M”\n\nThe young man was pushed to the center of the gallows and had a bag slipped over his head.\n\n“Wrong again, you got one more try before I drop him through a hole and stretch his neck.” \n\nAs the man in black spoke these words the woman dropped to her knees and started wailing and begging the man not to do what he was about to do. All he said in response was, “Next letter.”\n", "I don't know how they knew, but here I was, pinned to a wooden gallows. My entire body paralyzed, all I could do was stare onwards at the mass of dark-robed cultsmen. They were all silent, as one of them walked up to me.\n\n\"Intruder!\"\n\nHis voice boomed throughout the cave.\n\n\"Our God does not enjoy being watched by others\"\n\nHe hissed the last word, and I was beginning to suffocate under the smell of his breath.\n\n\"I am initiated,\" I rasped, \"You accuse me falsely!\"\n\n\"You say you have been initiated but have no branding of our lord's name anywhere upon your body! If you are one with us, then WHAT IS THE NAME OF OUR GOD?\"\n\nShit. I glanced down and realized they had relieved me of my robes. Stark naked, and being watched by hundreds. What was the name of their god? That's what I came here to find out. My mind went blank as I pondered what a fitting name to a god would be. The old man didn't give me a chance.\n\n\"Indeed, the name is unpronounceable by your human tongue.\" He hissed at me. I tried to turn away from him, but movement was too difficult. His dragon breath was burning my lungs.\n\n\"You shall name the letters in our lord's eleven letter name! Prove to us you know it! And because I am a benevolent leader, I shall allow you to guess the letters out of order with four allowable errors!\" My ears rang as his voice echoed through the walls.\n\nHe continued, whispering, \"you will lose one limb for each wrong letter you provide...\"\n\nA game of hangman. And I was the one being hung. I knew right then and there I was screwed. Unless...,\n\n\"E,\" I muttered\n\nA sharp pain reverberated through my right leg. I shut my eyes in shock. Then the pain was gone. I slowly opened my eyes and say my right leg lay on the ground, five feet in front of me.\n\n****\n\nUitzilcapac, Lord of Pain, smiled as he watched the body parts float down the river. In the pocket of the robe of the dead man was a paper.\n\nYour next assignment is to attend a cult meeting and determine the name of their god. I cannot for fear that they may recognize me and kill me, but you should be able to avoid detection. Knowing its name will give us a great deal of power over it to take it down. Be careful, they are merciless.", "Pat smiled and rubbed his hands together. This had real drama. The game was similar, but the intensity was increased a thousand-fold. High up on the platform, Vanna White stood with her hand on the lever and the permanent botox smile plastered on her face. Years of Wheel of Fortune* had left her unscathed, but just a month of Hanging in There had left her with crow’s feet and rings under her eyes the makeup could barely hide. \n \nPat turned and smiled at the contestant, a nondescript man who was sweating. \n“The clue is ‘famous french’ and you have so far guessed a, e, and i. Do you have another guess, or do you want to pass to the next player? May I remind you that if you win you not only receive a pardon, but you can play in the bonus round for complete clemency for the stranger on the platform standing next to the lovely Vanna!” \n \nThe man glanced up at the board above the platform, it read: \n_i_e_i_e _i_a_e \n \nHe racked his brains, but couldn’t think of any French words, or people, all he could think of was the mustard. He shook his head:\n“I’ll pass Pat” \n“Just so I can remind the folks at home of the rules, you are aware that if you lose three rounds in a row, your name gets put into the platform lottery.” Pat paused for dramatic effect, he loved this part. “Do you still want to pass?” \n \nThe man gulped, he had guessed seven letters, giving him seven points, figuring out the puzzle was ten points and there were seven spaces left. If the next contestant was able to solve the puzzle, he would lose. He shook his head, he couldn’t risk being put in the platform lottery. \n \n“m” he whispered \n \n“Couldn’t quite hear you, speak up, was than an n or an m” Pat asked through his perfect smile. \n \n“m” he said a little louder. \n \nPat, looked down at the card in his hand, “I’m sorry, there are no m’s!” \n \nVanna lowered the noosed onto the platform strangers neck and pressed a button that pulled the rope tight. Even through the black hood, you could see the stranger inhale sharply as the rope tugged at his neck. \n \nPat shook his head but kept smiling as he turned to the next contestant, a college student from the looks of his hoodie and jeans. \n“Nice of you to dress up for the occasion, what’s your name young man?” \n“Uh, Brian” \n\n“Nice to meet you Brian, what brings you here Brian?” \n“Loitering, a class a misdemeanor” \nPat turned to the audience and flashed them his brilliant white smile: \n“So what you’re saying Brian, is that you were….hanging out in the wrong place”\nThe audience roared, Brian stared down at his feet and Pat chuckled at his pun. The cameras panned to Vanna on the platform, she smiled, shrugged and rolled her eyes, as if to indicate that she had no control over Pat’s terrible puns. \n“So, Brian, take a look at the board and pick a letter” \n“S” \nPat assumed a contrite expression as he looked into Brians eyes again: “I wish I could say ess, but no, there are no s’s” \n \n \nThe audience turned to Vanna as she carefully removed a giant set of heated scissors. She walked across the platform to the strangers right arm and neatly chopped off his hand, cauterizing the wound as she cut. The stranger screamed, but the audience’s applause, mixed with the canned applause track drowned out his screams. An assistant in a red evening gown brought out a chair for the platform stranger to sit in as his legs looked a little wobbly.\n \n \n“So we’re giving him the chair” Pat quipped. The audience laughed at his joke as he turned to the third contestant, a large black woman with blue hair. She was dressed in a skin tight dress that left little to the imagination. Pat took her hand looked her up and down and asked “What your name ma’am”\n \n \n“My name is Martha”\n \n \n“Alright, hi Martha, and I’m going to go out on a limb here” Pat paused for the sparse laughter at that pun before continuing: “you’re here for solicitation?”\n \n \n“Yes” Martha mumbled into her impressive bosom.\n \n \n“That’s great, now pick a letter, the board shows what letters have been chosen, now it’s up to you to pick the next one!”\n \n \n“T”\n \n \n“ooooh, sorry no t’s”\n \n \nUp on the platform, the stranger tensed as Vanna approached again with the giant scissors. He screamed as she cut off his left hand.\n \n \nPat turned to the first contestant: “alright, time to pick a letter!”\n \n“n”\n \n \n“Fantastic, there are 3 n’s, this puts you in a commanding lead, do you want to guess another letter?”\n \n \nThe contestant turned towards the platform, the board now read\n \n \n_ine_ine _i_ane\n \n \nHe still couldn’t focus , at first all he could think of was the mustard, and now Princess Diana, she wasn’t French was she? With ten points he still wasn’t guaranteed the win. He had to guess at least one more letter.\n \n \n“I will guess r Pat”\n \n \nPat beamed at him and his heart rose in his chest, and then Pat broke into a laugh; “I’m sorry, there aren’t any r’s”\n \n \nVanna sighed and efficiently cut off the man’s right foot.\n \n \nPat turned to Brian and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “So Brian, do you have a guess to the answer?” Brian wracked his brain, he wished he had paid more attention in history class. Pat squeezed his shoulder and saw the blank look in Brian’s eyes: “Why don’t you guess a letter Brian?”\n \n \n“C”\n \n \nPat squeezed his lips together: “I’m sorry Brian, there are no c’s”\n \n \nVanna, grateful that the botox had killed her ability to cry crossed the stage and cut off the strangers other foot.\n \n \nPat, turned to Martha: “So, Martha, you look like someone who paid attention in class, do you have any guesses?”\n \n \nMartha bit her lip as she stared at the board above the stranger:\n \n \n _ine_ine _i_ane\n \n \nShe mumbled through several names and Pat put a hand to his ear:\n“Speak up Martha, you know you have to guess correctly, otherwise our first contestant over there will win!”\n“Madeline...” She trailed off, but Pat was ready for this. He interrupted her loudly: “I’m sorry Martha, the first word is not Madeline!”\n \n \nVanna swallowed the lump in her throat, and walked up behind the stranger, drawing the hot tip of the giant scissors down the center of his back, leaving a smoking red welt down the length of his back. She then went and stood next to her giant lever.\n \n \nPat turned to the first contestant, this was the final move, the contestant had already won, all he had to do was pick any letter. The drama was gone, but if he guessed the answer he could play for clemency on behalf of the stranger. The nondescript man had a bead of sweat across his upper lip. Pat could tell he had nothing, so he thought he’d help him out: “Why don’t you guess a letter, because I don’t think you know the answer.” \nThe cameras cut to the stranger on the platform, writhing and moaning in pain. The first contestant took a deep breath: “f”. \n \n \nPat took on a pained look. He practiced it in his dressing room every day. “I’m sorry, there are no f’s”\n \n \nVanna suppressed a dry heave and pulled back the lever. The floor beneath the stranger dropped out, the chair clattered to the stage below but the hooded stranger was stopped just short of the stage, on account of the rope around his neck. He didn’t even twitch, he just hung, like a sack of wet laundry.\n \n \nUpbeat music filled the studio as Pat turned to the first contestant: “Congratulations! You have won, and all charges against you will be dropped” Then turning to look directly into the camera: “Don’t go away viewers at home, we still have rounds two and three coming up right after this word from our sponsors!”\n", "The \"Good Doctor\" stretched the sterile gloves over his slender, skilled hands. His patient strapped to the operating table. \n\n\"Any questions?\" asked the doctor.\n\n\"Where am I?\" asked the dazed patient.\n\n\"We're carrying out your sentence.\" said the doctor.\n\n\"I was just in court\" murmured the man on the table.\n\n\"Sir, that was hours ago.\" replied the doctor with a sigh \"We find carrying these things out swiftly takes a heafty burden off the taxpayer.\"\n\n\"But why am I here? I was gonna be hanged?\"\n\n\"And you shall be, if you lose.\"\n\n\"If I lose?\"\n\n\"Well, we feel every... body deserves a second chance. If you win our game, you're free to go.\" \n\n\"I don't understand, why am I here.\"\n\n\"For Disassembly!\" said the doctor, frustrated at the confused inmate \"We separate your limbs and head from your torso, then as you guess letters for our puzzle, we begin to put you back together. If we complete your body, you lose and are placed in a noose and are hanged immediately. If you solve the puzzle before you are completed, you are free to go and live your life. though you will be missing whatever limbs that have not been reattached.\" " ]	5
	[WP] The entire world fell into apocalypse, you have lost every link to the outside, but you do have internet connection and, being a gamer, you decide to fire up a game and talk the situation over on the game servers during a match..	[ "This is my first response to a wp on this subreddit so don't expect much.. \n\nIt has been several months since the outbreak. I've lost any contact with the outside world and every day my hope for survivers was dramatically decreasing.. On the upside my internet connection is still working, but most websites will just show the emergency broadcast message. As I double clicked the MW2 icon on my desktop I jokingly said to myself \"let's do this..\" \nLooking for possible games to join.. \n0 games found\n\"Ugh, what the fuck was I even thinking.. Let's give it one final go.\"\nLooking for possible games to join\nTrying to join 1 possible game. \nI couldn't believe it, is there actually somebody out there that's still alive? \nI tried looking for my headset, Oh fuck where is that piece of shit? \nMy hands were shaking, I was so fucking nervous. \"H-hello?\" i said. \n\"Sup\" Someone replied, the connection was a bit shit, so i couldn't quite hear to whom I was talking to. \nI didn't even care about the game going on, all I wanted was to know what the hell is going on out there, maybe they have heard anything.. \n\"Haven't you heard? They are gonna bomb a few of the cities to contain the outbreak. \" I almost couldn't hear it over all the static noise.\nEven though i was mostly in shock because of what I've heard, I tried to ask if they lived in one of those cities and especially which one they are planning on bombing. No response..\n\" Fuuckk.. \" I started to panic now.. I tried to calm myself down by lightning up a cigarette. It helped but there was something else, it sounded like an airplane. \"Oh hell no..\" I suddenly remembered. I went back to my PC in case the connection was back. Something else catched my eye. \n\"Tactical Nuke incoming.. \" It read. \n\nMaybe I got a bit carried away with the prompt, I tried to do my best :) Apologies for any grammar mistakes. \n\n", "Joining the que, the chat was instantly bombarded with people freaking out and crying about the world being over. Family dead, the fall of society, the hordes of walking dead outside. One message stood out to me though. \n\n\"Mid or feed faggots\"\n\nI hate when people do this. It's on motherfucker.\n\n\"Fuck you man, I called Mid!\" \n\nFrom there it erupted into a rage storm of \"I hope you get cancer\", \"your mom's tight\", \"I'll kill your family, oh wait , the zombies got those fat fucks haha!\" and all other sorts of insults. These people were so toxic, I hope zombies ate them. Oh well , game would start soon and I could block them. \n\nThe game started and the first thing I seen was, \"WTF IS HAPPENING IN THE WORLD, and report Brand for auto lock mid.\" \n\nenemy ~ \"ok\" \n\nenemy ~ \"ok\"\n \nenemy ~ \"ok\"\n \nOmfg. I feel like I'm playing a team of Rammus'. This guy was the troll not me ! \n\n\"But he trolled, not me ! There's zombies killing our families and you can only talk about banning me !! ??\" \n\n\"B5 noob cry more\" \n\nEven in an apocalypse, I'd rather be with zombies than the League community." ]	2
...War? ...Party? ...Love? ...Bad comedy?	[WP] Every city-state is ruled by a God/dess. Your city god is a god of...	[ "\"Cheeseburgers get your cheeseburgers here,\" the town crier shouted. Our lord was a just lord, he giveth, and he taketh the burgers. Gather round and hear the story of our town and how it came into being...\n \nLike manna from heaven they fell, sides of fries and precious packages of \"heinz\", with sides of fries and delicious milkshakes he brought it to us. \n\nOur great and glorious God came from up there, far in the clouds. The story goes that one time, in the great golden arches in the sky, there was a utopia, where food was served quickly, plentiful, and delicious, never spoiling. Yet one man, one God, looked down upon the world and saw that the humans were without. They had never tasted the wonders of the secret sauce, or the beauty of fries dipped in an ice cream shake or \nthe great and glorious nuggets of chicken, it was truly sadness and despair. Yet this man, this God, hatched a plan. A plan to steal the golden arches and bring them to humanity, to give them to the first \"fat ass customer\" as he calls us. \n\nSliding down a sled from up high, he fell into a pit of colourful balls, he braved madness and hot oil as he ran with the golden arches. The red haired one sent his minions to catch him, but he was sly and tricky and he hid. His mission, as the tale is told, was to bring us the mighty quarter pounder with cheese, which from all good things arrive.\n\nBeset on all sides by enemies, our God fought his way to this place, to found our city, the great Golden Arches, and he rules here with a warm heart filled with compassion and love for his people, thank you Hamburglar, thank you! \n \n\n \n" ]	1
	[WP] When you die, the amount of good and bad deeds you have committed is calculated and you are placed respectively in heaven and hell. Unfortunately for you, you have committed an equal amount of good and bad deeds and have caused quite a bit of trouble amongst the gate keepers.	[ "Awake!\n\nI had always imagined the waiting room after death would be blindingly white, or at least bright white in color. Alas, this waiting room seemed more like the one at the Planned Parenthood clinic on 5th and Broadway. Featuring dingy carpets, stained walls, a creaky fan and a sour old woman reading a 14 year old issue of Home & Garden, this facility was almost a sure indication that I was in Hell.\n\nI was about to start panicking when my name was called from a distant voice beyond the heavy wooden door. I was pleased to note that I couldn’t tell if it was a male or female voice – it had a sort of otherworldly cadence to it that justified the incredibly mundane 5 minutes I had already experienced in the afterlife. When I opened the door, I proceeded down another hallway where I was met with a scowling old man who didn’t look up from the clipboard he was studying.\n\n“Mr. Weber?” he asked in a voice that was perfectly distinct and male.\n\n“Um, yes, that’s me.” I wondered where the angelic voice had come from.\n\n“We have a small discrepancy with your ATSC.” He finally looked up at me to reveal bright blue eyes – a little too blue to be natural. They looked strange set in his wrinkly old face.\n\n“What’s my ATSC?” I asked, a twinge of worry in my voice. Discrepancies in purgatory are never good.\n\n“Your All Time Sin Count. It seems you have committed an equal amount of good deeds and bad deeds. We haven’t seen this since 11 BC.”\n\nHe proceeded to tell me that I had two options. One: I could stay in purgatory forever (they even offered me a job as a Data Entry Specialist!), or two: I could go back to earth for one day and do as much good as possible in hopes of tipping the balance. Of course, I chose the second option – but not without asking what kind of benefits the data entry position came with.\n\n“Before I go, can I ask you something?” The old man perked up – he wasn’t used to questions.\n\n“By all means,” his scowl lightened somewhat.\n\n“Why is this place so…well…normal?”\nHe actually cracked a smile, as he took off his glasses and started wiping them with what appeared to be a mythril cloth he procured from his pocket.\n\n“What did you expect? This place is designed to be as comfortably boring as possible – we decided to model it after the waiting rooms you humans use for your doctor’s visits and such. It’s brilliantly mundane. The place has its glitches though,” he said while looking around as his scowl returned. “The budget for this place has dropped to almost nothing. Hence this.”\n\nHe pointed at his eyeballs, indicating that they were of an unnatural blue color.\n\n“My human suit is over 15 years old, and the eyeballs were the first to wear out. Also look at this,”\n\nHe rolled up his sleeve to reveal an arm that was beautiful and muscular, much too perfectly sculpted to belong to the dour old man standing before me. It glowed gold with what looked like ancient runes of some sort. Now this was the kind of thing I had expected in the afterlife.\n\n“Also, my voice gives out from time to time. It happened when I called you in here.”\n\nI felt bad for him. Here was a man who was dedicated to his job, but nobody seemed to care. It seemed that the administrative sector of heaven needed an overhaul. Maybe they were holding elections soon. Either way I resolved to do something about it.\n\nSo, I went back to Earth and bought a little girl an ice cream cone. I was instantly transported back to the waiting room where I met with the old man, whose name was Haladrial (he went by Hal), and was cleared for access to heaven. Before I ascended the pearly white escalator, I turned to Hal and let him know I was going to petition for more money for purgatory. I wanted things to go well for Hal, as I felt some sort of strange connection with him.\n\n“I’ll get you enough money for a new human suit Hal! I promise!”\nAnd as the escalator took me up and away, I had just enough time to see a small glistening tear form in the corner of Hal’s brilliant blue eye.\n", "The Process, believe it or not, took a while. You’d have a detailed look at the Petitioner’s life, deeds and intentions all. You’d spend a while arguing about their motivations - were they really ignorant, or malicious? Were they trying their best, or just not caring about the consequences? And so on, and so on. Both sides had a vested interest in the Petitioner ending up on their side of the moonlight, but at the same time, neither really wanted ones that wouldn’t really fit in. It was bad for morale.\n\nAnd so, the Process was agreed upon. Sometimes it was simple. Sometimes… not so much. Maybe Upstairs didn’t really want the guy who gave to charity, helped the poor, loved his wife and died in prison for reasons the media liked to foam at the mouth about. Other times, they argued that yes, what she did was murder, but have you seen the other guy? When the lot Below threw him a welcome party, you could hear the screams on the far side of Creation.\n\nAnd so, the Process went on. Slowly but surely, always Fairly, always getting there in the end.\n\nAlmost always.\n\nIt started innocently enough. Another excorporation, another Petitioner, another Process. Then the committee retreated for deliberations. Then an Archon got a call. He got in. He got out. He came back with his superior. Some time later, his superior went in to see what the big deal is about. He didn’t leave for a long while. A Lord stopped by, then another. They sent for their best accountants. Those called for their colleagues.\n\nEmployees were running around. Comparing notes. Whispering. Rumors spread like wildfire. Like Deluge 2.0. On fire. Never before was there a Petitioner so perfectly positioned in the balance atop the moonlight.\n\nIn a tiny, cramped, infinitely large room Employees debated. One of Below’s best accountants sat in the middle of a circle of acolytes, going through the numbers again. An Overlord and a Dominion were seated either side of a small wooden table, conversing in quiet murmurs. They’ve taken off their robes of office; if you knew what to look for, you could almost tell which one was which. Between them was the latest sheet of paper, listing maybe a dozen reasons this Petitioner shouldn’t be in their respective realm. One of them picked up a quill to cross one out, joining the few hundred already discarded. The other one frowned and nodded. The discussion continued.\n\nIn one corner of the room stood a broom, a dustpan, and a little conical pile of ash. Nobody commented on the poor new guy who made the mistake of suggesting they bring this up to the Man. You never bothered the Man with trivialities, no matter how untrivial. But now and then, an Employee or another would glance over, and privately admit it was starting to sound like a reasonable idea.\n\nTime passed on. Employees came and went. Ideas were brought up and shot down. Avenues of inquiry only reaffirmed the situation. Every time a solution was leaning even slightly into favor, somebody else would bring up the implications. If we consider this, we have no right to disregard this, it’s only Fair. And the others would frown and nod. It’s only Fair. They all wanted this over with, but not at the cost of being unFair. That’d be Wrong.\n\n“You know…” begun one of the Lords from Below, the heads and tired, empty eyes of his peers and rivals turning towards him. “There’s always Solomon.”\n\nEmployees looked at one another. “Solomon?”, a few mouthed. Finally, one of them asked it out loud. The Lord nodded lightly, then reached under the table, producing a terrible beast of orange and metal. Along its flat front, somebody crossed out most of STIHL and spray-painted SOLOMON.\n\nThe folks from Upstairs opened their mouths to protest. Not one, however, had quite the strength to say anything. The Lord looked around them, shrugged, and pulled the ripcord.\n\nThe beast roared to life. In a distant waiting room, a Petitioner sneezed. It was, after all, Fair.\n\n---\n\n_-120 \| [more](/r/vonBoomslang)_", "I shifted from one numb buttock to the other, slightly uncomfortably on my seat in the small office and contemplated whether asking for another cup of coffee was a good idea. It was hard to know how long I had been here as in heaven, time seemed to work a bit differently. The kindly receptionist had patiently explained that the reason the clock went between “F” and “143” was to do with 8 dimensional space and that once all this misunderstanding had been sorted out I would go through my induction and it’d all be much clearer. \n\nI roughly estimated that it had been three days now. Normally a simple routine of when you slept and woke would have been one way to keep track but, again, it had been explained that in heaven things worked differently and again, it would be explained at induction. \n\nI flicked listlessly through Sport Fishing and Outdoors, just one of the many magazines scattered across the low table, but I had read it three times now, cover to cover and so it had lost much of its initial interest, which was pretty low in the first place. I looked over the others and tried to think if I had gone through any less than four times but they were all now as intimate to me as any magazines ever were. Woman’s Monthly, Readers Digest Home and Garden, Guns and Arrows and my personal favourite Kids puzzle weekly, which I had now done front to back seven times, borrowing paper from Glenda the receptionist so I didn’t have to write on the magazine. \n\nMy left buttock began to complain and so it seemed like time for another walk. Standing and stretching I went thought my series of exercises. Bend down and up ten times, twist to each side ten times and swivel at the hips for a count of ten four times. Loosened up and leisurely began my saunter – past the table where my friends the magazines were waiting then on and past the three chairs in a row, the one on the far left with a dark blotch that I decided must have been from the original wood. I rounded the corner of the table and turned right, glancing left at Glenda and her desk which was as neat and tidy as ever. She ignored me, as she generally did and tapped away at her computer. \n\nAlong the short side of the room now, looking ahead at the picture on the wall of a boat and a fisherman, I paused to consider if my new knowledge from Sport Fishing and Outdoors could tell me anything more about the picture but alas I did not feel any more qualified. Another sharp right and past the four chairs on this side, all identical, blue padded seats, and then at the end a quick glance down to see if the toy chest had become untidied in the last twenty minutes or so since I last ordered it by colour. \n\nFinally another right turn and it was just a quick shift along and back to my original seat, where I plopped myself down and looked at the magazines once more. The room was not more than four metres squared and held eight chairs, Glenda, her desk, a door behind her, a toy chest, one picture and me. I had stopped counting the number of times I had gone round, maybe hundreds. When you don’t sleep you have a lot of time to wait. \n\nThe sound of the door opening started both me and maybe even Glenda a bit. It had been a long time since the gentleman, Mr Brown as I wheedled out of Glenda, had come in last and asked me to be patient and just the sigh of someone new was slightly thrilling. \n\nHe coughed slightly “Sorry for the delay Mr Phillips we’ll see you now.” Adrenaline rushed into my throat and I jumped up, slightly stumbling over the table in my haste to get out. \n\nI followed Mr Brown through the door and we went into another room, roughly the same size as the last but with a higher table, two chairs on one side and one on the other. I was directed into the single chair and Mr Brown took his place on the other side with a different woman. She was introduced as Ms Teach. \n\n“Again, we’re sorry for the delay Mr Phillips, we do endeavour to make a decision within an hour but your case has been… a little tricky.” \n\nHe paused and looked at me expectantly. “Er, sorry?” I ventured at which he looked down at the papers in front of him before muttering to himself. \n\n“Still not enough.” He looked up and lifted his voice again. “Honestly Mr Phillips the heaven decision board normally has a fairly easy time, people are good and they get in or bad and then go downstairs. You… you’re neither.” \n\n“I’m not sure I understand.” \n\n“Well Mr Phillips you have done exactly the same amount of good and evil during your life and you are perfectly balanced. Trust me we looked at everything! You went to church but you also stole from the collection plate.” \n\nI spluttered. “Well, yes when I was nine and I gave it back.” \n\n“All goes on your permanent record Mr Phillips. You adopted stray animals but put out mouse traps.” \n\n“Not really the same thing…” Mr Brown didn’t stop this time. \n\n “You paid your taxes on time but played fast and loose with the rules, you never cheated on your wife but coveted your friend Jim’s wife an awful lot. Honestly, it goes on and on. We even started looking at how you behaved in the waiting room up here to find a tie breaker – you tidied the toy chest and then picked the varnish off the table!” \n\n“Okay, so I am a tie, what does that mean?” \n\n“Well, this is extremely rare and without a positive score we can’t let you go up.” \n\nA sinking feeling plunged my stomach “So I go down?” \n\n“Well, no, you don’t have a negative score either.” \n\n“So what then?” \n\n“Well, you stay here with us Mr Phillips. You go neither up nor down and so you’ll stay with us until something can be decided.” \n\n“What will I do? I’ll go mad in there!”\n\n“No, no Mr Phillips, that was just while you were waiting, you’ll have a job now.” He stood and gestured, please go with Ms Teach here and she’ll get you settled. \n\n\nMs Teach walked around the desk and took me to the door and we exited into the waiting room. At first glance it was the same room\n\nMs Teach finally spoke “Oh no Mr Phillips, that was Mr Brown’s waiting room, this is mine. You’ll be working for me in here as my secretary.” \n\n“Secretary, but I was an engineer, there must be some other job, surely Glenda could cover your waiting room too?” \n\n“I’m afraid there are no other job here for you to do, until a decision is reached you’ll be working here.” \n\n“But if this is just a make weight job then why do you even employ Glenda?”\n\n“Employ her? Oh no Mr Phillips, she’s just like you, she’s been waiting here for a decision to be made” With a bright smile she turned and stepped back through the door and was gone. I hurriedly opened the door but there was nothing behind it, just more wall. \n\nBehind me a heard a cough “Er, hello? Am I dead?” \n\nI turned and a man was standing looking confused. I sighed, “Please take a seat and someone will be with you soon.” I circled round behind the desk, at least I could see what was on the computer. I fired it up and after a while a spreadsheet appeared, I glanced up at the columns Number of times circled the room, number of times read Sport Fishing and Outdoors, number of times read Readers Digest Home and Garden*…\n" ]	3
	[WP] A poor chimney sweep runs into Santa on Christmas	[ "As Larry looked up, he paled as he saw the great big red thing heading towards him. \"Oh no...\"\n\n\"Ho! Ho! Ho!\"\n\n\"God dammit, Nick!\" \n\n\"Oh shit... Larry? My nigga what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Don't fucking touch me Nick. What the hell is your fat ass doing?!\"\n\n\"Ummm, Larry? Its Christmas, remember? This is my job.\"\n\n\"Why the hell are you here?! These people don't have kids!\"\n\n\"Uhhh, rude much? Listen Larry calm down. They're on the nice list...\"\n\n\"Nice list? Nice list? You mean to tell me there is a damn \"nice list\" for adults?!\"\n\n\"Well... yeah.\"\n\n\"What?! How come I didn't know this?\"\n\n\"You were never on the nice list so I never thought to tell you...\"\n\n\"What...?\"\n\n\"Those prostitutes and that drug deal a while ago? Remember? I can't put you on the nice list if someone dies during that.\"\n\n\"Nick... have you been spying on me again? Fuck, what the hell did I tell you-?!\"\n\n\"Whoa there, calm down. You popped up a while ago on my radar, its not my fault you keep getting on the naughty list...\"\n\n\"FUCK YOUR LISTS MAN. FUCK THEM.\"\n\n\"No need to get so cranky... here, have a cookie.\"\n\n\"FUCK YOUR COOKIE.\"\n\n(This is as far as I got.) ", "It was a cold, cold night. The bright moonlight against the snow gave the lustre of midday to the city below George, the poor London chimney sweep. He had just finished sweeping a chimney and was moving on to another rooftop when he noticed a sleigh had appeared being pulled by eight rather large reindeer.\n\n\"Where did you come from?\" George asked, startled.\n\n\"They came with me.\" George turned around. Standing before him was none other than Santa Claus.\n\n\"You... you're real!\"\n\n\"Of course I am!\" Santa stood only feet away from George and even over the smell of soot that clogged his nose, George could smell Santa. He smelled of ginger cookies and peppermint. He smelled like grandma's baking. He smelled like a million Christmas dinners, roast ducks, baked turkeys, honey ham, gravy, yams, potatoes, stuffing and cranberry sauce. George was nearly hypnotized by Santa's scent that he barely even noticed his suit.\n\n\"Wait a minute... if you exist, how come all I ever got was coal?\"\n\n\"That's all you have to say?\" Santa was furious! His beautiful red suit that his wife spent hours on making every year just so he could wear it this one day, was stained black. The white trim, the velvety red lining, his black boots didn't shine anymore and his beard! His snow white beard was more of a rainy day grey! No amount of milk or cookies could calm the jolly man down now. With the mightiness of the North Pole, Santa swung his magical sack and landed a direct hit on George. George spun sideways and tumbled down the slanted edge of the roof but was stopped from going over the edge by one of the chimneys.\n\n\"What the hell was that for?\" George yelled out as he climbed to his feet.\n\n\"Haven't you noticed? My nice red suit! You made me ruin it! Every inch of fur, from my hat to my boot, is ruined by ashes and soot!\" Santa swung his bag around his head and brought the toy filled weapon downwards towards George. This time George was able to move with the nimbleness he had acquired as a sweep and jumped out of the way. The toy sack smashed into the roof causing such a clatter. George spun to face Santa and all at once he realized what had happened. He had been extremely late to work today since he was out trying to scrounge for cash and buy his daughter something for Christmas before all the shops had closed. Santa had gone down one of his chimneys that he had not been able to sweep yet and now he was covered in soot. \"George... you have been very naughty!\" Santa charged at George, swinging his bag around his head again. Every step he took along the rooftop sent vibrations strong enough to jingle the nearby sleigh bells. George faked left and dashed right, dodging the jolly man's swinging sack again but striking out with his broom. Santa's belly jiggled like a bowl full of pudding from the attack.\n\n\"Sorry, Santa!\" George immediately called out, not really wanting to do battle with Santa.\n\n\"Ho, ho, ho!\" By this time the residents had come out of their homes to see what was the matter, women in their kerchiefs and the men in their caps. \"Oh great, an audience! I should have given you coal for Christmas, George!\"\n\n\"You did give me coal! That's all I ever got!\" George swung his broom towards Santa but the blow was easily dodged. Santa countered by throwing a pair of candy canes he had retrieved from his pocket. They didn't hurt much but they distracted George long enough for Santa to charge again. Only St. Nick could be so lively and quick, though chubby and plump. He sprang at George and brought his peddler's pack down again, this time clobbering George right on the head.\n\nGeorge crumpled like a sack of potatoes in the snow in the rooftop. Santa sprang to his sleigh and gave a sharp whistle. George awoke just in time to hear Santa call out \"A Merry Christmas to all, except George!\"" ]	2
Not like Percy Jackson, make EVERYTHING modern and realistic.	[WP] Write a story based on or inspired by a classic Greek myth, but with totally modern characters/events	[ "\nPenelope stood in the line at Jamba Juice ignoring her vibrating phone. Her parents needed to settle down she was an adult now and if she wanted a Tropical Harvest smoothie with mangos, squash, and carrots, she was entitled to it. It wasn’t like they were paying for her; she had been working hard for months in the blistering heat as a gardener to build up her savings. With her green thumb, she had acquired plenty of clients in a short amount of time and she liked the feeling of having money in her pockets.\n\n As the teenage barista stumbles trying to figure out what a Matcha Green Tea Blast smoothie is, she looks around the small store awkwardly sensing the person in front of her in line was losing patience. As she looks at the poster advertisements littering the walls, the bell on the door clings and she turns around out of instinct. Walking through the door is a boy- more like a man- with perfectly messy brown hair and bright blue eyes. He wears faded jeans and a navy blue sweater and a pearly white smile. Penelope blushes as he gets in line and looks to the floor remembering she just came from work and is still sweaty in her green sweat pants and long black t shirt. Her hair is pulled into a messy pony tail and she twists it subconsciously wishing the barista would hurry up. The guy behind her looks past her to the counter and rolls his eyes at the stumbling barista.\n\n ‘He’s only been here a minute. What right does he have to be impatient already?’ she thinks as he takes out his phone and begins to text. \n\nShe notices he has the latest iPhone and the screen isn’t even cracked.\n\n ‘I wonder if he’s a business man that could explain the phone and the lack of patience’ Penelope wonders as she takes out her dinky in comparison phone whose memory was full every two days. \n\nShe pretends to be texting someone and plays the app 2048 so she doesn’t look like a loner all by herself in line. She practically laughs out loud at herself for her obsessive thoughts; it wasn’t like he came here with anyone else either! The barista hands the customer her drink and begins to ring up the order as the lights begin to flicker. Both Penelope and the possible business man look around curiously. The barista shouts in frustration as the cash register refuses to power up. The obviously annoyed customer pays in cash practically throwing it at the barista. Penelope watches in disbelief as the customer storms out through the door. \n\n“Wow, Can you believe some people?” Mr. Business man says with the same disbelief. \n\nPenelope smiles, “People have issues! It’s just a smoothie.” \n\nMr. Businessman nods and chuckles, “The heat must be getting to people today. I can’t complain- you look like you’ve experienced your fair share of it today.” \n\nBlood rushes to Penelope’s cheeks and she babbles, “Yeah, I’m a gardener. I’m not usually this gross!” \n\nMr. Businessman laughs, “Working outside all day long- What torture! I’m a CEO so I get the pleasure of being stuck in an air conditioned office most days if I choose.”\n\nPenelope tries to hide her surprise she thought he was in business but she still would’ve never guessed he was a CEO of a company.\n\nShe replies, “Must be nice! Being able to duck out of work anytime you want for a smoothie.”\n\nHis eyes widen and he explains, “My secretary quit, no more coffee runs. What about you Ms. Gardener? Do you just leave your client’s midday if you get thirsty?”\n\nPenelope raises her eyebrows, “Quit? What did you do? And of course not, I’m done for the day. By the way, my name is Penelope. If you ever need gardening work down around your building, I’m a local business and so I can get any job done in less time for a lower price.”\n\nShe hands Mr. Business man a card which he studies carefully before replying, “We do have a small garden Penelope. But how would you like to get out of the sun and try working in an office. As you can imagine, it’s difficult being in my position without a secretary.”\n\nPenelope looks up at Mr. Business man’s face confused; did he just offer her a reliable job without even seeing her resume, references, or even her last name. \n\nSensing her confusion, Mr. Business man continues to talk, “I know this is extremely sudden. But work is more than having a resume, it’s about connections. I don’t know much about you but I know that you don’t care for people who treat baristas badly and customer service is crucial in any business.”\n\nPenelope puts up her hand to slow him down and asks, “What does your company do?” \n\nMr. Business man smiles, “I’m sorry Penelope. My company is in transportation and shipping. A secretarial job would consist of clerical duties, answering phones, and coffee runs- Nothing too taxing like digging ditches- we have other people for that.” \n\nPenelope laughs and thousands of thoughts race through her head about the proposition but then he flashes his billion dollar smile and they all seem to fade away. \n\nBefore she can get her senses together, she hears the word yes escape her lips. \n\nMr. Business man smiles and the bell at the counter chimes and the barista waits impatiently. \n\nBusiness man gestures to the counter, “Your smoothie Ms. Penelope.” \n\nShe blushes and orders quickly and her new boss chimes in, “Make that two.” \n\nThe barista nods beginning to mix the smoothies and Mr. Business man looks at Penelope entertainingly, “I need to figure out your tastes Ms. Penelope and if your any good at choosing drinks.” \n\nPenelope laughs, “I’m alright at choosing drinks, this one is my all-time favorite.” \n\nWhen the blenders stop, the barista rings them up and Mr. Business man-boss pays with a fancy golden American Express card. Penelope thanks him but he shrugs as if it were nothing.\n\n“Penelope, would you like to come now to the building? I can show you your office.” Mr. Business-man offers.\n\nPenelope looks at his fancy car and deliberates whether it is safe, “Hey did you ever tell me your name?”\n\nHe smiles, “I’m sorry, Busy day. My name is Charlie Pluto. You can google me if you want.” \n\nPenelope looks up surprised and then realizes he meant checking his name out online to make sure he wasn’t lying. \n\n“It’s okay. I trust you.” She says as he opens the passenger car door for her. \n\nHe gets in and puts on his seatbelt locking the doors. He seemed to be a safe driver; stopping for all the red lights and minding the speed limit. As they turn left, she sees the company- it is only two or three floors but still gigantic and surrounded by a large fence; similar to a prison’s. Penelope wonders how many people would try to break into the company as the gates open and Charlie pulls into the parking lot. \n\nPenelope sips her smoothie as Charlie flashes his credentials at the security to get in and the guards eye her and take her purse for “security reasons”.\n\nCharlie notices and smiles, “They just take their job seriously. You’re safer here than anywhere else on the planet.” \n\nPenelope smiles pretending to believe him and staying close to his side. They take an elevator down and she realizes there are more floors underground. \n\nCharlie explains the layout stating that the company is actually built into a mountain and so there are about six floors underground and three floors above. \n\nWhen they get to the ground floor and through more security, they finally arrive at Charlie and Penelope’s office. \n\nCharlie motions to a desk filled to the brim with papers and says to her, “This is your home Pen.” \n\nShe feels slightly overwhelmed and says, “Wow, that’s a lot of work considering your secretary just quit.”\n\nCharlie shrugs, “Well she hadn’t been in a good state of mind for a while and so not much work was accomplished. You can get started and I’ll bring you some food in a few hours.”\n\nPenelope looks up surprised, “I thought you were just showing me my office. I have plans today with my family, I can’t start today; we haven’t even negotiated salary.” \n\nCharlie grins, “Penelope, you work for me now. You’ll be paid in food and your life. Get started on your work, we have a lot of poor souls coming through here for business.”\n\nPenelope notices a darkness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, “I want to go home Charlie. I’m leaving.”\n\nCharlie chuckles, “Good luck getting through security and with the elevator, it might be tough to get up without a key. Don’t worry I’m sure your car will be safe at the coffee shop.”\n\nPenelope looks around nervously searching for windows or any escape and realizes there are none. \n\nCharlie waves, “It will be a pleasure working with you Penelope. Now get to it.”\n\nAs the last sentence escapes his lips, he uses a dark and serious tone forcing shivers down her spine. Charlie leaves the room and Penelope sits down at her desk and begins to cry; she just accepted a job to working in Hell. \n", "Oliver sighed as he once again pressed on his car horn. He had been in traffic for hours now with no sign of it clearing up anytime soon. He felt like he would never get home to finish his homework. His girlfriend was no doubt beyond pissed with him. Seeing that he was getting nowhere, he thought about how he ended up in this situation. \n\nAfter watching his home team dominate the rival team – the Trojans – at the basketball game of the year, he decided to go celebrate with friends at a nearby pizza joint that he always wanted to try. When they got there, however, they were met with the worst service they ever had. \n\nThe place was dimly lit and smelled what Oliver could only imagine what a sheep’s pen would be like. The walls were rough and jagged like a cave’s. Everything in there screamed health code violations but he was too hungry to leave or care. \n\nTheir waiter was a rude, giant of a man who had a unibrow that was hard to miss. No matter what the reason was, he always had to retort rudely. When Oliver had enough, he paid without a tip decided to walk out and leave but the waiter refused to let him go, blocking his path until he paid gratuity.\n\nFrustrated and wanting to leave, Oliver grabbed the closest glass of lemonade and threw it in the waiter’s face, blinding him. Luckily, he had signed the check with a fake name so he thought made it out without being found. \n\nWell, he thought so until his oceanography teacher, Prof. Siden ran out of the kitchen as he pulled out of the parking lot. How was he supposed to know that he owned a crappy pizza restaurant on the side of teaching and hired his brutish son as a waiter? He cursed at the top of his lung, calling out that he hoped Oliver would never get back home to finish his homework.\n\nAs if his incantation was true, his drive home would take forever. \n\nAfter the encounter at the pizza place he had to stop at a nearby gas station to refuel. When he entered to pay, he found the place completely abandoned except for the cashier, perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d seen. \n\nWhen Oliver tried to pay for gas, she always diverted the conversation to compliments about him. While he was flattered, he kept reminding her that he had a girlfriend. Still, she pressed despite him telling her. There was something about her that kept him wanting to stay here forever.\n\nWhilst chatting, the vibration of his phone in his pocket drew him back into reality. Checking to see who it was from, he finds that it is from her girlfriend. Even worse, the time showed that an hour had passed since he first got here. How did he waste that much time?\n\nNot taking any longer, Oliver paid the cashier and got back to his car in a hurry. He knew from his girlfriend’s voicemail that she was already livid and getting madder by the moment. He zoomed down the streets as he could feel time running out.\n\nAt the next red light, his greatest weakness appeared. It was Taco Bell – the smell so intoxicating that it was like it called him. He knew that he didn’t do anything quickly that his instincts would take over and he would get dragged over, wasting more time.\n\nTaking spare napkins, he plugged his nose in a desperate attempt to mitigate the alluring aroma. To his surprise, it works well enough that he managed to restrain himself long enough for the light to change. He was only one more street before he would be at his apartment. \n\nSuddenly, the two annoying kids whose parents let roam wildly – Sicilia and Charlie – ran out in the middle of the street. He slammed on the brakes, narrowly missing a collision with them. He honked at them but they ignored him, playing like they owned the street. \n\nSeeing that this plan was futile, he tried another. Pointing to a nearby bush and claiming it grew candy. Surprisingly, they believed him and ran into it, leaving the street open for him to get home. He would feel bad later but at least he could make it to his apartment complex. \n\nParking in the nearest spot, Oliver sprinted to his apartment on the third floor. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to find his girlfriend laboring over the oppressive homework that would be due in the morning, a scowl plastered on her face.\n\nApologizing, Oliver went through the assignment with vigor, slaying each question as fast as possible. When he finished the last page, he smiled at the sea of homework in front of him that he had conquered. His girlfriend, gracious for the work being down, hugged him now that she was free and he was home.\n\nHe had succeeded – not only conquering the homework but earning his girlfriend’s affection. " ]	2
	[WP] The villain has found someone who made him or her quit villaining around, while he or she won't admit it. Write about the confused hero's confrontation of the villain.	[ "Drakyra bared her sharp teeth and snarled, deflecting the punch thrown at her face and yelling, \"I'm serious!\"\n\nHer rival, the hero of Spark City, dubbed 'Sparx by the citizens for his supercharged abilities, refused to listen and threw another punch. Sidestepping the strike, Drakyra increased the distance between them with a mighty pound of her wings and landed on the other end of the rooftop she had lured him to. She raised her hand, but instead of a fireball or one of her other abilities, she growled, \"Stop!\"\n\nSparx came up short, confused by this strange new tactic. \"Why should I believe anything you say? After so many tricks, why should I believe this one?\"\n\n\"Because I'm serious!\" She repeated. Sighing, her shoulders slacked, her wings scraping the ground. She looked at him, her enemy, through the visor of her horned helmet. His sleek black close-fitting uniform highlighted with electric blue markings was a sight she had become quite familiar with over the last 10 years. \"I don't want to do this anymore.\"\n\nClearly still unconvinced, Sparx snarkily replied, \"Alright, I'll humor you. Why?\"\n\nAnger, a sensation so very familiar after years of crime, flushed in her chest. \"I've met someone.\" She stated. Before he could ask more, Drakyra raised her hand again and added, \"I'm not telling you anything about who this person is; all you need to know is that I want to protect them and I can't protect them if I keep giving into my habits.\"\n\nThis seemed to catch Sparx off-guard and his posture lost its aggressive stance. \"What, did you find some lover or something?\"\n\n\"I'm not telling you.\" She repeated, getting a little annoyed at having to say everything twice. \"Point is, I'm never going to transform again. I am going to lead a normal life and Drakyra will cease to exist. There's no shortage of other villains so it's not like I'm putting you out of business.\"\n\nStill skeptical, the hero asked, \"How do I know you're not lying?\"\n\nDropping her weapon to the rooftop with a clang, she approached, her arms splayed to either side to show she had no other weapons. Sparx was wary, but stood his ground. Drakyra stopped when she was barely a foot away from him. \"If you don't believe me, kill me know. But know that if you do, you'll be crushing of one of the only people in this whole damned world that has ever meant anything to me.\"\n\nHer words rang true, reenforced by the determination showing in her emerald eyes. Sparx met that gaze and they were silent for a moment. For ten years they had tried to kill each other, with Drakyra using every dirty tactic in the book including no small amount of seduction - which Sparx never gave into, of course.\n\n\"If you're lying, I will find you.\" And then he turned and walked away. As he departed, he heard a weak 'thank you' and a rush of air as Drakyra flew off. He surprised himself by not flinching or even expecting an attack from behind, but he did look back, watching her disappear into the night.\n\n- One Month Later -\n\nThere was an explosion at the bank and Sparx was first on the scene. He had been following Mr. Boom for the past few days, trying to gauge where he would strike next, so when he did the hero wasn't far behind. The damage was extreme, with more than a few fires burning in the lobby of the once-grand bank, and several people injured. Mr. Boom was clearing out the vault when Sparx came in. His feet supercharged to give him speed, he tackled the villain with enough force to shatter a few ribs.\n\nWith his enemy momentarily down for the count, Sparx had to get these civilians out of the building. After cuffing Mr. Boom, he returned to the lobby just as he heard an agonized wail. He dashed over to find a woman clutching the still form of a younger woman. A wheelchair lay crushed nearby underneath the lobby's fallen chandelier, and a shard of crystal had pierced the chest of the younger woman.\n\nThis wasn't the first death Sparx had seen, but the pain in the other woman's screams - he suspected she was her sister - hit him hard. He touched her shoulder, told her that they had to get out, that he would carry the body, but she didn't seem to register anything he was saying. When he tried to actually take the body, though, a familiar snarl ripped through the woman's throat and sharp, pain-filled emerald eyes snapped up to glare at him. \n\nIt was her. The shock didn't last long, but he didn't have time to do anything else as he heard cried of surprise from behind him. Mr. Boom, still cuffed, had woken and was dashing for the exit, but Sparx knew he couldn't follow. His priority was the safety of these civilians and he set about doing just that.\n\n- 30 minutes later -\n\nOutside of the slowing extinguished bank were a plethora of ambulances and police cars. And one coroners van. \n\nSparx had just finished going over what had happened with the police when he went up to Drakyra - or the person who used to be Drakyra - and sat down on the curb next to her. She had finally stopped sobbing, but her eyes were still swimming with tears and the hands she had wrapped around her coffee cup were shaking badly. Neither of them said anything, just sat there. \n\nShe, surprisingly, was the first to speak. \"I guess you figured out that it was my sister.\"\n\nSparx nodded. \"I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner.\"\n\nDarkyra shook her head. \"It's not your fault.\" Her coffee cup crumpled a bit as her grip tightened. \"I'm going to have to ask you to let me commit one last crime, Sparky.\"\n\nThe hero looked at her, confused. \"I'm going to kill the man that killed my sister.\" Placing a hand on her shoulder, the hero replied, \"I can't condone that. Justice demands that he lands behind bars, not in a grave.\"\n\nShe looked up at him, her mouth open in the beginnings of a retort, but he interrupted. \"That's what the hero, would say, anyways.\" Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes swimming with a mess of emotions. \"I'll help you.\" He finally stated. \"But can you tell me about her?\"\n\nDrakyra's shoulders slumped back down. \"We were orphans, our parents had died when I was three and she was only just born. They had left us with a babysitter and were killed in a car accident. Back then, she and I were perfectly healthy, perfectly normal, but we weren't the sort that people wanted to adopt. When I was ten I decided that we should leave and find our own happiness in the world. \n\nSo my seven-year old sister and I wandered around, homeless for a while until we found an old abandoned building on the outskirts of the city. We explored, and while we explored we found something. It looked like a gem, but it pulsed with life. I wanted a closer look to see if it was maybe valuable enough to sell so I picked it up, which is when it split open and some 'thing' rushed inside of me.\"\n\nThe ex-villain shuddered at the memory. \n\n\"It wasn't long before I figured out that something had changed, that I now had special abilities. And so like every naive child with a new toy, I made mischief. I stole money other stuff and brought it back to that abandoned house where we made our own little home. But one day, something went wrong... I came home after a small heist to find that my sister had befriended a man and had brought him to our house. Turns out he was a cop, and one that had been looking for us. He had brought other cops and tried to catch me. My sister was screaming to be saved from the man who had betrayed her trust. I used my abilities to hurt them, but the damage I caused to the house in the process made the floor give away. \n\nMy sister got hurt, something broken in her spine that paralyzed her from the waist down. I felt horrible about it all, since I was responsible, so I gave her all of the money I had stolen and I left. She was in the care of the hospital, and they had found a nice couple to take care of her and adopt her, so I knew I had done the right thing.\"\n\nShe stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath to compose herself. Sparx listened intently through all of this, hardly able to grasp that there was so much more to this person than her crimes suggested. \n\n\"A few months ago I get a letter from my sister - I have no clue how she found me but she did - telling me that she had graduated college and was going to become a teacher. She wanted to meet and catch up on everything and at first I thought she was going to hate me, but she didn't. My sister, someone who I had hurt in ways that affected the rest of her life and then basically abandoned, was more concerned about my welfare than anything else.\n\nShe told me that she was going to buy that old house and renovate it, and that she wanted me to move in with her, give up my life of crime and lead a normal existence. That's why we were at the bank today... we were going to buy the house...\"\n\nShe choked on her words and nearly descended into another fit of sobs. The hero sitting on the curb next to her slid an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in just in time to let her turn her face into the fabric of his uniform and muffle her cries of pain. Despite being such bitter enemies, seeing this woman who was normally so strong now so utterly crushed had shaken him profoundly.\n\n\"I'm going to kill him...\" She sobbed into his shoulder. \"I'm going to kill him and then fix up that house, just for her.\"\n\nSparx quietly mumbled, \"What was her name?\"\n\nShe stilled momentarily. \"Susan... Little Susie...\"\n\"And what is yours?\"\nShe looked up at him, trying to see past the shiny black goggles over his eyes. \"Kira.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"Kira, I promise you we'll find him. And if I can I'll help you fix up that house.\" He raised a finger. \"But you're not going to steal money to do so, alright?\"\n\nA faltering smile touched the corners of her mouth. \"Thank you...\"\nThey talked a little more, but before long the hero had to move on and begin tracking Mr. Boom before the trail went cold. As he departed, Kira called after him, \"Wait, what's your name?\"\nLifting up his goggles to reveal brown eyes, he replied, \"It's Matt.\"", "Raptor soared towards the warehouse, this was it, every other possibility has been crossed off, this was the only location left. Close to downtown, abandoned, and large enough to hide the bomb and all manner of traps and security measures. He angled himself into a dive, aiming for the center of the roof, time was running short. He accelerated downwards, approaching nearly 200 miles per hour, the wind pulling his long blonde hair back, leaving his masked face unobstructed as he neared his target.\n\nRaptor thrust his fist forward, the heavy, clawed, gauntlets he wore pierced the roof, creating a hole more than large enough for him to fit through. He landed on the floor of the warehouse in a crouched position, with a heavy impact, strong enough to shake the walls and cause dust to fall from every corner of the old building. He rose slowly, the sun glinting off of his red and gold uniform, and accentuating his, bare, heavily muscled arms.\n\n\"It's about time.\" a familiar voice called behind him, \"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up.\"\n\n\"Dr. Ash!\" Raptor roared as he turned to face his lifelong adversary.\n\nInstead of being met by the tall, dark figure, in his black trenchcoat, and skull mask, there was a man, of the same height and build, wearing just a gray t-shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of worn out sneakers. But still Raptor recognized him, this was the man who had on countless occasions tried to take his life and destroy the city. He strode forward, aggressively approaching the mad man. \"Where is it?\" he shouted, \"Where is the bomb?\"\n\n\"There isn't one.\" he responded calmly.\n\nRaptor froze in his tracks. \"What?\"\n\nThe Dr. shrugged, \"I just wanted to talk to you, and this is the only way I've ever been able to do that.\"\n\n\"Well I'm here.\" Raptor snarled, \"What do you want to talk about?\" He kept his distance, wary of a trap.\n\n\"I'm retiring.\" He said matter-of-factly. \"I've torched my costume, all my weapons, and plans, and sold all my assets. All that was left to do, was tell you. I figured you'd like to know you have one less thing to worry about.\"\n\n\"Really.\" raptor said, eyeing him suspiciously, \"Fifteen years of fighting and you just decide to end it. There's more to it than that.\"\n\nDr. Ash looked off blissfully, \"I've met someone, someone who makes me want to change, to be a better person.\"\n\nRaptor scoffed, \"And who might that be? A russian assassin, an arms dealer, or the queen of some oppressed nation.\"\n\nDr. Ash looked at him calmly, \"It's my daughter.\"\n\nRaptor took a step back, \"I didn't know you had a daughter.\"\n\n\"Neither did I.\" The Dr. reached for his back pocket, Raptor tensed up, until he saw him pull out his wallet. From it he took out a small photograph which he held out to Raptor, who took it cautiously. \"Her name's Cassie, She's seven, and up until six weeks ago I didn't even know she existed.\"\n\nRaptor examined the photo, on it was a small girl, beaming at the camera with a wide, happy smile. He looked back up at the Dr., the resemblance was undeniable, the same brown hair, the same gray-blue eyes, and the same round face. \"But now,\" the Dr. continued, \"I do know, and I want to be there for her. To give her someone to look up to, to raise her, and love her. Something I never had.\" His voice hardened, \"You and I know better than anyone else how dark this world can be. I want to be the one to protect her from it.\"\n\n\"After everything you've done,\" Raptor looked back up at him, their eyes locked, \"After all the lives you've taken, all the chaos you've caused. You want me to just let you go, and forget.\"\n\n\"I have done terrible things, unspeakable things. And I know that some day I'll burn for it, but all I want, is to do something positive for once, to create something good, and beautiful. If you try and take that from me, then this time, I will kill you.\" The familiar malice had returned to his voice, but tears had begun to form in his eyes.\n\nRaptor held out the photo, \"Go, take care of her. But if you ever step out of line, and be anything but a law abiding citizen, I will make her an orphan.\"\n\nDr. Ash took the photo back and placed it in his wallet, \"Good, I was hoping you'd say that. And if you ever want to check up on me.\" He dropped a slip of paper on the ground. \"That's where you can find me.\"\n\nThe two men, enemies no more, made their own ways out.\n\n----------Six months later----------\n\nDamian tucked his daughter into bed, \"Alright sweetie, time for bed. Did you remember to brush your teeth?\"\n\n\"Yes Daddy.\" she responded sweetly.\n\n\"Did you take your medicine?\"\n\n\"Mm-hmm.\" She said, nodding her head vigorously.\n\n\"Did you really?\" He said, cocking his head at her.\n\n\"Maybe.\" She said, bringing the covers up over her face.\n\n\"Cassie.\" Damian said with a sigh, \"You have to take your medicine every night, remember?\"\n\n\"I know Daddy.\" She whined, \"But everytime I take them I feel icky all day.\"\n\n\"I know sweetie.\" Damian said, rubbing the back of head, \"But you know what the doctor said, you only have to take them a little longer and you'll be able to run around with all the other kids.\"\n\n\"Okay Daddy.\" She said with a pout.\n\nDamian brought over the pill container and gave her the large pills one at a time with sips water to help her swallow them. After she had swallowed the last one he sighed. \"There we go sweetie, all done. Now time to sleep.\"\n\nHe tucked her in again and stood up. \"I love you Daddy.\" She called as he started to leave.\n\n\"I love you too Cassie.\" He said before flicking off the light and closing the door.\n\nDamian went into the kitchen, fixed himself a drink, and leaned against the counter. \"What do you want?\" He said with a sigh.\n\nRaptor stepped out from the dark dining room, his broad shoulders almost touching the sides of the doorframe. \"You never told me she was sick.\"\n\nDamian took a sip from his drink. \"I figured you had heard enough sob stories.\"\n\n\"How is she doing.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" Damian said with another sip, \"The doctors say that after another couple years of treatment, she'll be as healthy as can be.\"\n\n\"How are you doing financially? That treatment can't be cheap.\" Raptor asked, leaning against the wall.\n\n\"We're doing just fine.\" Damian snapped. \n\nHe sighed and took another sip of his drink. \"I'm sorry. Things have been tight. I just want to give her everything she could ever want. Anything to make her happy.\" He looked out the window, towards the night sky. \"If she wanted the moon, I'd get her all the stars to go with it.\"\n\nHe stared out the window for another moment before laughing. \"Did that sound as corny as I think it did?\"\n\nRaptor shrugged, \"Just a little, but so long as you don't try to LITERALLY steal the moon and stars, it's fine.\"\n\nDamian laughed again and straightened up. \"So, why are you here?\"\n\n\"To give you this.\" Raptor said as he tossed a small black box to him.\n\nDamian caught it and examined it for a moment. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"Half a pint of my blood.\" Damian looked at him curiously. \"I can heal ten times faster than any human,\" Raptor continued, \"and i'm immune to virtually all diseases. You're smart, I'm sure you'll figure something out.\"\n\nDamian reexamined the box before looking back at him.\"Thank you.\" he said, but the hero was already gone.\n\nEDIT : because of all the positive response I decided to write a part 2, I hope you all enjoy." ]	2
	[WP] Its time to take out the trash.	[ "The ordeal lasted scant five hours, the removal lasted less.\n\nI had it all in the bag, oh my, what a mess!\n\nPile high, food, waste and a monstrous face,\n\nGrotesque in scene it was no disgrace.\n\nI did what I did, what I had to do,\n\nNow he is dead, soon I shall be too.", "Stan wasn't a normal fellow, All his life Stan rarely did normal things. On a late saturday night i was sitting at my table at Red Lobster about to dip by lobster meat in garlic butter when i see Stan walk in, ask for a table for two, with a bag of trash in his hand.\n\nHe put the bag on the seat across from him then sat down. Everybody in the restaurant seemed to be staring at Stan. Stan didn't care." ]	2
	[WP] A traffic jam in the year 2163.	[ "John packed away his bedding and took up position in the bird's nest. The morning stretched out for miles all around over the vehicles like his own. His journey to see his parents would be over a few short years after he arrived, 20 years after he originally set out to visit them. Today he would move 3 miles in total, mostly to absorb the restlessness latent in the traffic jam, which had accumulated a westerly sway with a 3 hour period. The distance to his destination would be reduced by 3 inches if all was well. In this time John would enjoy many movies and the first forward progress in months since encountering the inclement traffic conditions. It would pass without any visual reference point and thus became simply another feature of his cabin's entertainment provisions. To look at his morning view, each auto-piloting ship was locked in a vibrating stasis with one another, bearing close resemblance to the images with which he had decorated his interiors, and for which this jam had earned its historic name.", "'Fuck' I muttered, as I watched on from inside my Tesla V2 as it began to pull onto the M6 Motorway near Manchester. Cars sat stationary in every lane for as far as the eye could see, and I was already an hour late for work due to a malfunctioning wake-up alarm system. I frantically barked a command at Navigator, 'NAVIGATOR REROUTE. REROUTE. ABORT CURRENT ROUTE'. An artificial woman's voice seeped curtly through the front speakers, 'I am sorry, I can not re-route from this point.' I slammed my fists against the dash, muttering an expletive under my breathe and leaning back into my chair, accepting my fate in a sulk. 'I can't believe this shit' I hissed through gritted teeth. My car had pulled to a dead stop in the left lane, and I looked across to a man in the car next to me, who seemed to be angrily shouting at his Navigator. I could see him slamming his dash, and when I caught his eye he just kind of shrugged and shook his head in tired exasperation. Sitting back in my chair I let out a big sigh and pulled my iphone 53-slim lite from my pocket. 'Read mail' I said, and listened as my phone rattled off spam emails regarding performance enhancing drugs and new models of 'adult' androids. 'Read News' I interrupted, and the pretty news lady with the short black hair from North West Today appeared in front of me, projected on to the front window of my car. \n\n'... the mysterious Object that has been hovering above the Nevada desert for two and a half years now.' I sat up, stating 'Pause. Volume increase to 85'. The news lady stopped suddenly mid sentence. America and the 'Object' had held the attention of the World Community ever since the day It had appeared mysteriously. Everybody could tell you where they were when the Object appeared. 'Continue' I stated, leaning in and clasping my hands together. The news lady continued. \n\n'As you all know, the Object appeared sometime around June of 2061, and despite our best efforts we have never since been able to determine its purpose or origin. Spanning a massive 20 mile area, the spherical object has hovered 100 feet above the desert for over two years now. Despite the rigorous analysis of the World Community's top scientists and intellects the Object has remained a complete mystery. Until today.' I looked across to the man in the car beside me who had been shouting at his Navigator earlier, and it appeared that he, too, had decided to turn on the news; I could see the news lady projected on his cars front screen, his face hanging agape in an expression probably not very different from my own. I turned my own attention back to my screen, where the news lady continued, \n\n'The Object, which up until now has shown no sign of life or movement, today began to open.' The picture changed from the news lady to an image of the Object, which then slowly began to peel open quite like the sections of an orange might open, with each section peeling out from the middle. Suddenly from the middle of the newly opened Object a great explosion of light, like from some kind of quazar, erupted out toward the sky in a continuous and violent beam. The news lady appeared again whilst the footage of the Object simultaneously played beside her. 'This footage, recorded live just 37 minutes ago, shows the Object emitting what has been confirmed to be a beacon toward space. Minutes ago the purpose of this beacon was confirmed when several thousand objects, suspected to be vessels of some kind, were suddenly discovered to have appeared in orbit around Earth.' The footage of the Object was replaced with satellite video footage or several specks of light suddenly appearing around Earth, until all around it was twinkling and bright. 'The purpose of these vessels is yet to be confirmed' the news lady continued, 'however until authorities and the WCG have established the nature of these UFOs we are advising everybody to stay indoors, await further instruction and most importantly, remain calm. Bless You All.' The news lady flickered from the screen, and then the projection ceased. \n\nI sat for a moment in silence, suddenly becoming aware of the traffic around me, where I noticed upon looking that the other drivers appeared equally as dumbfounded as I felt. 'Open door' I stated, and the door of the car slid open with a quiet hiss. I staggered from my car, where I noticed many others doing the same thing. Everybody stumbled around like zombies for a moment, looking toward the sky, some exchanging a word or two with one another, some just leaning against their cars. I looked up for a moment, exchanging a brief look with the driver next to me who had also gotten out of his car, and I left my car there on the M6 to begin the short walk home. " ]	2
	[WP] A Genie grants their first wish.	[ "\"I am the great and powerful Rhazjin, who dares summons me!\"\n Good, I got the first bit down, just need to remember the rest of the lines.\n\"Uh, I did.\"\nThe client was a slimy sort. He like me had a ponytail, but where mines was a silky main, his hung limply and covered in grease. He looked scrawny under his faded leather jacket. I was hoping for someone, well better I suppose. Never mind that, it is my job to make him better, don't judge a book by it's cover.\n\"Are you going to say the rules?\"\nWhat? Oh damn I wasn't saying anything, just judging him. He's going to think I'm an idiot now.\n\"Anything I want?\"\n\"Yes, of course.\"\nI'll play this wish straight, get him to trust me more.\n\"Infinite wishes.\"\n\"You're wish is my command!\"\nWait, what did he say? It was infinite wishes wasn't it? They told us never to grant infinite wishes, I don't know what happens now.\n\"Really?\"\n\"... Yeah, but you know, don't abuse it.\"\nHe smiled, other rather he pulled his face back to reveal and overbite and some yellow teeth.\n\"I wish for a billion dollars!\"\nOkay, he's got one on me so far. I'm going grant this in an annoying manner. The third one is I'm going to make sure is his last, and sort out any trouble I caused with the first.\n\"Your wish is my command.\"\nA massive amount of money dropped out the sky next to him, but it was all in 1$ notes. Try spending tha-. Another wad of cash dropped out the sky, but there was only meant to be one. Another two. Unless. Another four. He was buried under the money now. Another eight. Infinite wishes may not mean, infinite different wishes. I went back into my lamp.", "Awaking from a deep slumber, with my usual \"5 O' clock Shadow\" in full, and dirty wife beater, I head to the kitchen. Eating leftovers from the other night, I hear an odd noise, I have not yet heard in my whole 45 years of life in my vase. A storm? A hurricane? An earthquake? Then, all of a sudden I am warped out into earth, with no hesitation whatsoever.\n\nDressed in full, fully shaved, smelling great, I am shocked but must attend to my first client, as I come to the realization of why this has happened. The big blue eyes, shaggy brown, long hair stares up to me. You can tell this boy expects me to begin the conversation, so I begin with the line that every genie is taught in grade school, \"Hello! It's your lucky day, I am your Genie and am here to grant you three wishes!\" . The boy terribly shocked, has no response. I knew this was going to be a long day.\n\nAfter an awkward 10 minute stare down, the boy looks at me and says \"Are You Real?\" . With a courageous response, \"Why, Yes of course son!\". The boy then contemplates his decision, I can tell due to his facial expressions. He runs to his bedset to find a pad of paper and pen. He writes down something very quick and replies with \n\n\"Well, if this is real, I would like you to go to this address\" . After handing me the paper and seeing the scribbled hand-writing, he then comes back with,\n\n\"That is a girl in my class. She always comes to school with holes in her clothes, and always talk about how she likes all of her mommy's new guy friends, but likes her daddy most. Can you go give her her wishes. If that counts as my first wish, just give her two. She'll be fine with that\" . \n\nIn complete shock, my only response is yes, and I head out to the address to begin my new life as a Genie, with nothing but a smile on my face.\n\nSmile:)\n\n", "\"I... ah.... I don't normally have this problem.\"\n\nPlay it off. Play it off! Everyone has jitters on the first day. Reach deep down, summon your will, deep breath and..... nothing\n\n\"Are you sure this is really what you want? You've thought this wish through carefully? You know there are moral repercussions to every wish, ill considered aspects and angles which can trap even the most wiley of mortals.\"\n\nYea! That's it. Doubt! Now... how did the conjuration bit go? There was a neman... pnue... nemot.... that thing where you have a story or acronym or song or whatever to remember stuff. Why isn't there one of those things for the name of that thing? It's like how phonetic isn't spelled the way it sound. I wonder if I could change that. What if someone wished...\n\n\"Yea! Oh, yea I'm listening! Course I'm listening! I'm a... YOUR genie aren't I? Master?\"\n\nStupid chattel genie servitude bowing and scraping backwards 8th century social structure bull...\n\n\"Working on it, Master! Now before we start I must inform you that there are some caveats to this whole wish business. Some, ah, stipulations if you will. First....\"\n\nOk. Remain calm. You can rattle these off in your sleep; they'll buy you time. Now think. Think. THINK How the hell do you actually go about the wish fulfillment part. Rub the lamp, come out, you have three wishes, caveats and limitations, aaaaaaaand actual wish granting. For Allah's sake, you could have been paying attention in this part of the seminar but noooo... there was that cute Qarinah from the Lower Nile and....\n\n\"I'm sorry, could you say that again? You wish for what? My.... my freedom?\"\n\nWell shit....", "I awoke from my long nap to a rubbing sound, skin meeting smooth metal. I had been hoping that this day never actually came.\n\n\nI wasn't quite sure what to do. This would be my first time, and it's not like I had anyone here I could ask for help. After I'd completed the general education course, there was no further guidance.\n\n\nThe sound came again, and I knew that I couldn't ignore it. I went to the exit from my house, and took a deep breath. Then I threw open the door. I checked that I had my guidebook in my pocket in case I got too lost, then left my house.\n\n\nIt took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the outside. It was bright, very bright. There was sand beneath me and the sky above me. It had been so long since I'd seen the sky. Looking to my right, I could see an ocean. My house must have washed up on this beach. I looked at the person who had called for me, finding a small female cradling my house in her hands and looking at me with awe.\n\n\n\"Greetings!\" I said to her. \"I am yours to command, but only for three wishes!\" I'm pretty sure the opening line went something like that. I hoped that this human wouldn't call me out on any mistakes.\n\n\n\"I get wishes?\" She asked me.\n\n\n\"Yes, you do,\" I replied, ready to grant a wish.\n\n\n\"I wish for a pony!\" She said excitedly.\n\n\nThere it was. The first wish for me to fulfill. I'd trained for this my whole life, and now it was finally happening. But what, exactly, was I supposed to do? There were so many ways that different genies went about it. Of course, I could just whip up a pony right there. But there were other ways to go. Some of the best genies would always grant a wish with strings attached. I could give her a pony with some sort of catch.\n\n\nI came up with a great idea and ran with it. \"As you wish,\" I told her, waving my arm. On the sand next to me appeared a pony, dead and bleeding, with entrails spilling from its belly. She had asked for a pony, and I gave her a dead pony! Perfect genie trickery! She stared at me with wide eyes and screamed as she began to cry. I knew I had to make it better. I waved my arm again and the pony rose up, alive. The entrails dragged along the ground as it approached the girl. She screamed louder, began to cry, and ran away, leaving me there alone with the undead pony. I looked at the pony and it looked at me, both of us confused. I decided all that I could do was retreat back into my house, so I did.\n\n\nI never knew that granting wishes was such gruesome work." ]	4
	[WP] There are three fundamental forces that balance the universe. Creation, Destruction, and Procrastination. Procrastination has disappeared and now all hell has broken loose.	[ "Time on a cosmological scale is pretty much unfathomable. Thankfully, size is too, so we do occasionally see something uncommon from somewhere far off. I'd always wished things could maybe go a bit quicker. I mean, did we really need all 5 billion years left of our Sun staying almost the same? Did the galaxy really need to spin so slowly?\n\nYeah, I guess it did. One day everything stopped waiting, and it was awesome. Not your teenage, wishy-washy awesome either. Literal awe filled humanity as it saw countless stars erupting in supernovae across the skies. Behind the intense light of the dying stars we could also see hints of unprecedented numbers of stars being born in nearby nebulae.\n\nIn a few minutes someone had pointed out the slight issue. The Sun was a star too, and it was getting visibly larger. Thank God the stars weren't the only things feeling more hurried than usual. A few hours after I'd checked into the lab humanity had collectively quadrupled its scientific advancements. Factories worked overtime to produce what we'd need, and all hands were on all decks to get materials to the construction sites.\n\nWe'd left Earth by the evening, 1.5 billion survivors. With an unending determination we fought for our survival in innumerable battles with stars, black holes and supernovae. But the universe's destruction couldn't defeat us now, not now we finally got off the couch.", "Vishnu gave a sigh of exasperation. The world had changed. It had been 4000 years since he was last on Earth, and boy had it changed since then. When it was last his turn to correct humanity's path, they had been far more amenable towards instruction. How badly had Shiva and Brahma screwed up during their dimillenial patrols?\n\nThe holy trinity - Brahma the creator, Shiva the destroyer and Vishnu the Procrastinator - guardians of civilizations, protectors of life, elected leaders of the Universal Accord had one job, just one. To keep the various worlds of the universe in balance. And somehow, those other two buffoons managed to screw up their parts. \n\nAnd that wasn't even the most annoying bit. How hard was it to get his title correct? Vishnu the Preserver? What was he, a jam-maker? You never heard people screw up the other two's titles - Shiva the tryhard, always going too far in his indoctrination, or Brahma the layabout, who had to be coaxed to even get out of bed. It was their fault Earth was where it was. He had tried his best to do his job - to maintain balance somehow when the other two were intent on ripping the world apart with their terrible ways, but there was only so much one God could do.\n\nHe was done. He crushed his cosmic lotus, and annihilated his Chakra with an anti-Chakra. He was done here. Surely there were better jobs in other universes.\n\nAnd fuck those Hindus for screwing up his title. He knew he should've landed in Egypt instead. \n\n-- -- -- \n\nJason rose in his bed to a cacophony of bird-songs. What the FUCK was going on? It was as if every bird in the city had taken it upon itself to announce the arrival of dawn. Oh well, that meant he could get to work sooner. \n\nThat's strange, said a strangely familiar voice in his head. Usually I would have turned over and slept until my 3rd or 4th alarm.\n\nWhat? That was absurd, what was to be gained by sleeping late? He had to keep that lazy part of himself in check. 30 minutes later, after a quick breakfast, a quicker shower and an even quicker run to the campus, Jason was in his lab, firing up his computer. \n\nThere was something different about today. He felt like he could conquer the world. All those problems that had been holding back his research for all these months, today he would beat them all. He could feel it.\n\n20 seconds passed. Damn this laptop. It was barely a year old. Why was it booting so slowly? He had to do something about it. Time to ask the good ol' folks at Stack Exchange about it. \n\nwww.stackexchange.com . He waited. Those damn birds were still at it. He plugged in his earphones, put on some music and switched back to the browser. The website was taking forever to load. Was there something wrong with his internet too? He tried opening Facebook in another tab. Yup, fast as ever, perhaps even faster. So his internet was fine. Maybe it was an issue with stackexchange. Guess he'd have to settle for help at /r/techsupport then. \n\nHe logged on to www.reddit.com. \n\nWhy don't you check out /r/all for a bit? That niggling voice spoke up again. He clicked it before he had a chance to question himself. \n\nFrowning, he looked at today's top submissions. Writingprompts, dataisbeautiful, art. Was this really /r/all? Where were all the cat pictures and advice animals? /r/techsupport didn't seem to be much better off. There were literally hundreds of new threads appearing every minute, and no one seemed to be willing to reply to any of them. What was going on? Why weren't people helping anyone else? Well, he didn't have time to think about that. He had things to do. \n\n-- -- -- \n\nJerry had been planning his escape for days now. That wasn't his real name, of course, but that's what the He-idiot with the Swiss Cheese colored fur and the She-idiot with the Tea colored fur called him. \n\nEvery day they put him in that god damn maze and hid his food, making him run around for ages. His cage hadn't been cleaned for a week now. He didn't understand how a species as incompetent as the Cheese-he had managed to dominate the world for so long now. His ancestral memories told him of a time when they had competed on equal footing. He wondered what led to this travesty. \n\nMaybe it was his own species' willingness to go along with things. Take his own feeble attempts from the last few days at making a run. He had barely even tried to jump away. \n\nA shiver passed through him as he broke out of contemplation. What was wrong with those birds? His memories told him to make a run for it. The only times the birds were so noisy was when there were predators about. But there were no predators in Boston, were there? Not in this building at least. Unless you counted that fat cat that liked to look at him some times. \n\nHis ears pricked up as the She-idiot approached. It was time for action.\n\n-- -- --\n\nJaya was a woman on a mission today. She had been surprised and slightly disappointed that Jason had got into the lab before her. Since she was the one who set up the experiment, and Jason was the one who managed the data collection, it was usually she who came in earlier. She would kill him for taking away her glory. Wait, what? What was wrong with her today? She'd been feeling angry all morning. She whispered a silent apology to Lord Vishnu for letting such a violent thought cross her mind, and walked to her desk.\n\n\"Oh hey Jason, you're here early today\" she said to him as she took her seat at the desk next to him, in what she hoped was a fairly cheery voice. Her instincts raged at her, to hit him, kill him for taking away her right from her. but somehow she maintained control. \n\n\"Yeah, there's work to be done. As soon as I can fix this broken piece of shit.\"\n\nIt was getting hard keeping her fists in check. She tried her best to smile as she stood up to make her way to the interior of the lab, all the while chanting the gayatri mantra in her head to distract herself from wanting to smash Jason's head into pieces with her bare hands.\n\n\"Why don't you do that while I go set up the experiment?\"\n\nShe walked to the cage to fetch the mouse. Little Jerry looked cute as ever. Well, it was glad that at least some things didn't change. She'd had to walk to work today because the trains were all full. It hadn't been a pleasant experience. She had witnessed three accidents in the 10 blocks she had walked. People just seemed to have lost all patience today. Not to mention those god damn birds and their god damn singing.\n\nShe reached her hand into Jerry's cage to carry him to the maze, and all hell broke loose.\n\n-- -- -- \n\n\"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE\" Jaya screamed as Jerry bit her thumb and leapt out of her hand. Her rage bubbled over and escaped in the form of another scream. This one was more of a war cry though, \"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHH\" she screamed and ran after the mouse as he ran across the open floor towards the door. She picked up a lamp from a desk near her, throwing it at the mouse , all the while invoking curses from Vishnu and Shiva on all of mouse-kind. \n\nShe hadn't been much of a cricketer in school, and it showed, as the lamp flew well away from its mark, hitting Jason on the back of his leg. It was now Jason's turn to let out a howl of pain. He jumped up and screamed at Jaya, \"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?\" \n\n\"JERRY! JERRY!\" she screamed as she chased after the mouse. She had just reached the doorway when a black form streaked across. She didn't have time to avert her course before she tripped on Tom the tom-cat and went flying into the person just exiting the elevator\n\nCRASH\n\nProfessor Jenkins had barely stepped out of the elevator when his senior grad student crashed into him at a speed that could not have been too far away from the speed of light.\n\nFurther away he noticed his 12 year old arthritic black cat somehow catch and swallow the last of his genetically modified mice. Outside, the sounds of fire engines were starting to draw closer while further ahead of him he could hear loud sounds of glass breaking from inside his lab.\n\nHe pushed Jaya off him and rushed forward to see what was going on. Jason, the other idiot on his payroll had picked up one of the 100,000 dollar cameras they had spent the last 2 years building, and was using it to smash Jaya's computer screen and her little collection of idols. \n\nHow many days had he woken up wishing his students would be more proactive? He would never do so again.", "August 9, 2015\n\n\nThroughout all of human perception of history, mankind has always been at an impasse. We were born too late to see the birth of the stars, but too early to see their deaths. Until just a few months ago, we had absolutely no knowledge of the strange and mystical forces that governed the universe-at-large. Looking back on it now, I think most people would have preferred it that way. We had time to stop and take a look around. We could wander aimlessly through the busy metropolitan sidewalks or the quiet, natural walkways of the forest. We could consider our thoughts before taking action. \n\n\nThen, one day, things were different. The CEOs, stock traders, entrepreneurs, and other individually motivated people didn't notice a thing for a few weeks. But the regular people? Me? \n\n\nThe night before April 1st, 2015, I went to sleep wondering about what the hell I would do with my life. I had just graduated a year before and took a few months off to think about my future career choices. In other words, I took some time off to fuck around and hang out with friends. I had zero ambition in life. My friends all seemed to have their lives planned out, and here I was, not knowing what I'm good at or what I want to do. Hell, I don't even know why I went to college. Then, I woke up. \n\n\nI brushed my teeth, took a shower, got dressed, and made myself breakfast. The ideal morning routine. I sat down at my computer, but instead of opening Reddit like I normally do, I opened Microsoft Word. For four whole hours, I sat there writing draft after draft after draft of some stupid story idea that'd been floating around in my head the previous day. After each attempt, I'd start a new file and refuse the save the old one. I wasn't sure why I was doing these things, I just knew that I had to.\n\n\nWhen I was a little kid, I remember my dad pushing me on my bike before I could pedal myself. For a couple of days, I would fall again and again. But after the- I don't know, fifteenth attempt? I began to pedal myself on that bike. That's the feeling I had this morning. I just woke up and began to do it. It wasn't just me though. I was just a harmless wanna-be writer. I didn't have access to nuclear launch codes or suicide bombers. \n\n\nYou know why the Cold War wasn't actually a war? Because both sides were procrastinating their asses off. Yeah, yeah, I know, mutually assured destruction and all that other bullshit politicians want you to believe. The real reason no one had the balls to drop any more nukes was because no one wanted to deal with the aftermath of it. The clean-up, the logistics, the PR statements... all a massive pain in the ass if you're thinking about \"ethics\" and \"morals\" all day. \n\n\nSo if you're reading this, you've got to be wondering, is the world fucked yet? Not quite. There's still a few areas that aren't nuclear wastelands yet, with one of them being Bumfucknowhere, North Carolina. I'm writing this now because I can't not write, not because I'm running out of time. And yet, just as I say th---\n" ]	3
	[WP] "How many of dad's stories do you think are actually true?"	[ "I woke up to a splitting headache, mouth fuzzy and dry. I was too nauseous to sit up, but I knew this wasn't my room. I realized I had to quickly gather myself, what the hell happened last night? Where the fuck am I? What time is it?\n\nI realize that I have to slowly push my self to get up and unfurl from the fetal position. As my eyes adjust to the brightness in the room, the beige wallpaper walls and the stark white sheets, I recognize my father’s hotel room. This is good, I at least know where I am. Look over, even better he's still asleep.\n\nI must have won, you see, it was my fraternity's dads weekend. I was hesitant to invite my father, we didn't get along, and he was kind of a wet blanket pearl clutching parental figure. He would groan if I said I went out on a Friday, and just mutter, \"just study\" under his breath. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised if he dropped me off at the library when the other dads took their sons out to the bars.\n\nHe used to tell me his old fraternity stories, but those seemed far removed from the man who visited me this weekend. Or so I thought. I remember just awkwardly drinking beers not talking in the corner, round after round, until I stupidly challenged him to a drinking contest when the silence became unbearable. I had to say something, and that’s what I led with. I, 6' 3\" 250 pounds, straight out of the pledge process. Him, 5'10\", 190 (and yes, we are related. My mom's side of the family are giants of men). The last thing I remember was looking him in the eyes, saying, \"old man, I will drink you under the table.\" And I thought I could, but looking at the clock and seeing it was 1 pm, I realized neither of us won.\n\nI walked out of there as quietly as possible, I needed water and too shower. He wouldn’t remember the details of last night either, so I needed to shake this hangover. Prove to the old man that I was a seasoned professional that I wasn’t even affected, and he was the one locked in the fetal position. As I walked out, I was impressed by his efforts; I had 60 pounds on him and had just finished pledging. I could drink anything and everything, and walk away from it with out even the slightest wobble. I could never let him know he won.\n\nWalking out of the hotel room, I called my sister to relay to her about the night. She was curious to see how dad would handle himself and I had a few missed texts from her.\n\n“Hello” she answered\n\n“How many of dad’s stories do you think are true?” I barely got out, struggling to even stand. She could hear the hangover, the way my throat crackled with the dehydration.\n\n“No Way!” she squeaked, she knew the end result.\n\n“I believe them all now, he crushed me”\n\n“but you’re huge, there’s no way”\n\n“unless he was pouring them under the table when I wasn’t looking. I am telling you the man can drink. I gotta go.”\n\nI quickly hung up, walking and talking was too much for my stomach that was still in knots from the night before. I walked home, knowing that my fathers and I relationship would never be the same. \nThat night changed everything. I never respected him growing up. Thought he was a loser. And he never respected me, but for one night we where equals. As dumb as an event as it was, it me realize I was my father’s son, that we where the same person. It opened the door to our current friendship. I knew that I would make friends through drinking and partying in college, just never thought it would have been my own father.\n", "My brother asked me when we were young. \"How many of Dad's stories do you think are actually true?\"\n\nIt was a strange thought at the time. We rarely saw our father. When he was here, he would sometimes tell us fantastic stories about magic and adventure. I would never have even considered their reality. And yet...for some reason it stuck with me. Nothing changed, though. My brother and I kept going to school, seen off to the bus by this nanny or the other while our father was off doing whatever it was he did for a living.\n\nOne day, we were sitting in the living room waiting. Dad had told us he would be home that day, but he was hours late. The door opened, and shut. A strange sense of gloom filled the house, and inexplicably no one got up to greet him. He hobbled into the living room slowly, leaning on a long wooden staff. \n\nThat was decades ago. I now know that his stories weren't true. They were the truth hidden behind butterflies and rainbows. The truth was worse. The arcane world he tried to hide from us was spilling out too much. His children had to help. So, we learned. Eagerly, as any set of young boys would if you offered them the ability to do magic. But that eagerness faded, as the training grew harder, and the stakes weighed down on us further. \n\nNow here I stand. Training complete, battles fought. A warrior, whose war was fought at the side of so few others. A war we lost. It was just me now. I leaned heavily on the old oaken staff I held, feeling the power flowing from it, and rose to my feet. Looking around, I saw desolation. Behind me, a strange nexus of magic, the last connection from this world to my home. Here I stood, the last mage, the last druid, the last sorcerer. Whatever I was, I knew the colossal demon rising before me desired nothing more than getting through me and into the portal. I sighed heavily, and touched my staff to the knot of magic holding the gate open. It sparked, and collapsed. The demon roared, a bellow of rage that would have terrified any man. As I faced it, I flexed my fingers, tingling with magic. I did not fear the demon. Not from any sort of bravery of my own, but out of acceptance of my fate. Humanity and the world is safe. No one will sing of my heroism, no one even knew I existed. \n\nHow many of Dad's stories are true?\n\nDoesn't matter. They comforted two little boys for many years. Countless more little boys will be able to hear stories from countless more fathers. My sacrifice is worth that. " ]	2
Once, long ago, there was a young chicken. Chicken Little was the name given to him by those around him, due to his age. He was the one of the few animals in the woods that wasn’t exactly in the right mind, and generally kept to himself. His friends were those that talked to him in his mind that no one else seemed to notice, something he found quite odd. The others found him just as odd as the voices in his head, and even more so during the incident at Louis the Hen’s funeral, which cemented Chicken Little’s place as the most unstable of the residents. When asked why he started inappropriately laughing at the funeral, he responded, "One of my friends told me a funny joke, and I simply-". He never finished the thought, and he likened the experience to someone ripping the thought from his own mind, as though it was just plucked from his own consciousness. When asked more on the subject, he became completely unresponsive, as though the person questioning him did not exist. He sat there rigidly, unmoving, until his neighbors left him, and then went back to what he was doing, as though it never had happened. Within the next few weeks, Chicken Little’s condition seemed to grow worse, neglecting to bathe, follow through with plans made with others, and completely forgetting something that had happened within the last five minutes. Many in the woods thought of him unwilling to even help himself, unaware that none of these things were within his control anymore, as the disease had taken over almost every aspect of his life. He seemed genuinely uninterested in most things, even those that he had previously loved. Growing more and more distant from everyone, his symptoms grew worse, and was occasionally seen in his garden having an argument with those inside his own mind, growing frustrated, and then suddenly forget what he was doing. There were few people that still tried to engage in conversation with him, and fewer still that tried to help him. Most simply thought that he was too far gone, and no amount of help could bring him back. It is of utmost importance to understand that, as what happened soon after was nothing short of incredible. Chicken Little came screeching to Henny Penny’s door, rambling about the sky falling, or something to that extent. By the time Chicken Little had calmed down somewhat, the story was pieced together by Henny and her friend Lucy, who happened to be nearby at the time and had came over to see what the commotion was all about. According to Chicken Little, the sky had began to fall, evidence of the event being a small acorn that had apparently fallen upon his head. When Lucy tried to explain that this was a normal occurrence, and that the sky was in fact not falling, Chicken Little became rather upset and argued with himself, asking whether or not he truly cared if these two fools believed him or not. He felt that the lion, of all animals, would understand and help him save everyone, or at least understand. It was with this thought that he left with haste, seeking out the only other animal he thought could possibly understand his plight. It was a long journey to the lion's cave, and the darkness was looming overhead. Even in his deranged state, Chicken Little still thought of his own safety on the dark roads at night, and sought a place to stay for the night. Seemingly out of nowhere, he noticed a house looming out of the darkness ahead, and hurried towards the lamp that seemed to be beckoning him towards the door. With an urgent knock on the door, it's owner let out a short "Would you give me a minute? Or is that simply too much to ask for nowadays?"	[WP][EU] Re-write your favourite childhood tale, with the twist of giving one of the characters a mental disorder. (No need to state which disorder it is)	[ "Obligatory [Rugrats Theory](http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/The_Rugrats_Theory)\n\nTHIS IS NOT MY WORK\n--------------------------------\n\nThe Rugrats really were a figment of Angelica's Demonic and Unimaginable imagination.\n\nChuckie died in 1986 along with his mother, that's why Chaz is a nervous wreck all the time.\n\nTommy was born in 1988, but he was a stillborn, that's why Stu is constantly in the basement making toys for the son who never had a chance to live.\n\nThe DeVilles had an abortion in 1990, Angelica couldn't figure whether it would be a boy or a girl thus creating the twins.\n\nAs for \"All Grown Up\" the teenage Angelica became addicted to various narcotics which further aggravated her Schizophrenia, bringing her back to her childhood and thus her creations she obsessed over, because of time lapse between the present and the last time she interacted with her creations, she made them older. Angelica was constantly taking hits of acid, so she would never have to live without her creations who were her only company. In a judgmental world, Angelica's mom actually died of a heroine overdose in 1982 just after Angelica was born, and Drew in his depression married a gold digging whore that Angelica idolized because she fooled herself into thinking it was her real mom but always had a concept of her mom, Cynthia, and took a barbie doll and made it after her mom's image, wearing an unwashed orange dress and having jacked up hair, which is why she was so attached to it. Later in life she followed in her mom's footsteps with drugs and everything, dying of overdose at age 13 when All Grown Up! was \"cancelled\".\n\nThe only rugrat not to be fictional however, was unborn Tommy's brother Dil. However, Angelica didn't know the difference between Dil and her creations, although Dil didn't follow her commands. After endless crying and a refusal to disappear like the others did when Angelica was angry with them, she hit him. Due to this, he sustained a brain hemorrhage, which resulted in a deformation. As he grew up, his damage only became more evident and by the time he was 9 in \"All Grown Up!\" he lived as an outcast, being ridiculed for his weirdness and retardation. The immense guilt over this is what led Angelica to her drug use and is what led Angelica to un-create the Rugrats briefly, until her experience with hallucinogenics.\n\nOn a trip to Paris to find love, Chaz married a woman named Kira (He was actually going to marry a different woman named Coco, but she just wanted him for his money.) who had a daughter named Kimi that was torn from her because she was a cocaine addict (Angelica imagined her from Kira's stories). He lost his mind after the death of his wife and was in denial that she was ever prostitute. Upon return to America, Chaz and Kira married and she got her greencard. It was actually a really happy and romantic story. Kira continually struggled with addiction, but was relatively happy with her life and Chaz\n\nSuzie was actually Angelica's only friend, who entertained the thought of Angelica's creations, for her sake. Angelica spent the last days of her life in the back of the school cafeteria, imagining friends around her and playing with the lives of her creations.", "I don't remember almost anything before The Crash. Or even The Crash itself for the most part. But my memory from the moments I woke up in the sand is crystal clear. The sun was what woke me. Well, really I guess it was the blistering the sun was causing. I did my best to get under cover, but there was not a ton of cover around to be had, so I made the best of what I could in the shade provided by the wreckage. After the pain had passed and my wits started to return to me, I began to look at the landscape and try to figure out where I was. Very obviously a Planet. At that point, my knowledge was extremely lacking, and so all I knew was that it was a planet. One with sand, and air. In the distance I can see some bumps on the horizon, but from where I was, all I could tell was that there were bumps, and nothing as to what the bumps could be. As the sun sank below the horizon I searched though the wreckage for anything I thought could be useful to surviving. Without knowing why, I expected no chance of rescue. I was on my own. Finding little, I picked up my few supplies and started walking toward the bumps. The sun was peeking up when I reached what I could now tell were enormous stone structures, carved intricately and of giant proportions. The buildings all seemed to be shrouded in a bad feeling. Or at least a dark feeling if not a bad feeling. Hurrying, I approached the closest of the temple like structures and looked for some sort of entryway. Eventually I gave up and made the best shelter I could for the day in the shadow of the overhang on the front of the building. I was woken when the sun was highest in the sky, and not by time or anything pleasant. At first I thought it was a wild form of a dog, or a big lizard. Lizard? how could a big lizard get confused for a dog? My brain wasn't quite awake at this point, and so I hesitated. It almost cost me my life. The animal became suddenly aggressive, attempting to claw at me and gnashing what I assumed were teeth. Stumbling back from the horror that had woken me, I searched frantically for a weapon. Finding nothing I could use, I continued to retreat from the ever more viscous monster coming after me. As it trapped me in a corner and advanced on me with a predatory and hungry manner, I threw my hands out at it to protect myself in a last feeble attempt. I expected it to tear through my arms and be ripping into my chest, but instead I heard it whimper as it was thrown against the far wall almost fifty meters away from me. I opened my eye to find it beginning to stand and as it looked once more at me it gave a sharp bark like sound before scampering away. What had happened? I looked around to see if I had an unknown savoir, but found no one. After a fruitless search I returned to my shelter and tried to sleep again, but found no solace in dreams, seeing only horrifying lizard dogs and flying beast of rage.\n\nWhen I awoke I decided to look at some of the other buildings to see if I could find an entryway of something of use. Upon reaching the second building in the area I began to feel the pangs of hunger that adrenaline and fatigue had previously held at bay. I suddenly realized how dire my situation was and renewed my search efforts with vigor. The third building I decided to search held the reward for my efforts, a small doorway set into the very large doorway that occupied the front of the building, and my luck held, as the small doorway was ever so slightly ajar. I rushed into the doorway, thinking that I had found my salvation. As I entered I found not my salvation, but another of the wretched reptilian dogs, snarling at me as I entered its domain. The Frustration and Anger and Fear of the past two days were pent up and waiting, and so when the dog lizard bared its fangs and growled at me, I let loose my rage and screamed, knowing I would not be saved by another of the miracles that had saved me from the previous beast. And that scream was enough to take the hound and tear it to shreds, as the waves of fury poured out of my mouth and into the air, turning a snarling beast into a pile of meat.\n\nAt that point that was my first thought, meat. I could eat this, if i could cook it somehow. Eventually I managed to cook it using a refraction lens I had salvaged, and upon taking the first bite immediately wretched, it tasted rotten. I tired again, this time managing to stomach it, barely. After a few more bites it was palatable. It didn't take much to fill me up. It was very filling. After eating my fill I did my best to preserve some and then moved further into the structure. There were no lights visible, but it was not too dark to see. It felt like the building was telling me both not to move forward and that there was nothing more important than it. As I got deeper into building it felt that it must be bigger than I had seen from the outsider, or that it was drawing me underground. There was something else too, an energy in the air around me, growing... stronger thicker? It seemed that I would breathe it in, but not out. Like whatever it was, was sticking inside of me. The energy was making me feel stronger, restoring my lost strength. I didn't seem to know where I was going, but there was direction in my walk, a destination in my path. Something was drawing me toward it. Drawing me in.\n\nAs I pass through a door into a room with what looks like a sarcophagus in the center I glimpsed a name on the wall, like a location. Korriban..." ]	2
	[WP] 500 feet from the summit, your climbing partner says something that makes you turn around.	[ "It seemed like forever we climbed to the summit of Mt. Narwhal, though it would pay off. My partner, Tyler followed close behind while I shield him from the downwind and snow coming my way. All was fine until he said 6 words that shook me horribly. \"Did you leave the oven on?\"", "\"Come on, man. Hold up.\" My voracious climbing partner begged, he was lagging behind and I could hear his stomach rumbling. \n\n\n\"We are just 500 feet away, Kevin, let's push on through it eh?\" I knew I shouldn't have brought him along, but my wife insisted that this new brother-in-law of mine and I needed some kind of relationship now that our two families were \"one\". She had two failed marriages under her belt, and was desperately attempting to make this one count.\n\n\n\"I can't, please, just let me scarf up a quick can of beans?\" We both now stood facing each other, surrounded by a landscape too beautiful for words. 'I wouldn't mind being buried here,' I thought.\n\n\n\"Okay fine, we'll stop. But we'll have to make up for it later, it's already close to 15:00\" I replied.\n\n\n\"No problem! We got this mate! Do you want some?\" He dropped his pack, and hastily pulled out his can of Bush's Best. Every time he said 'mate', I wanted to strangle him.\n\n\n\"No, I'm okay, I have a Clif Bar left.\"\n\n\n\"More for me!\" He replied. His cheeky, cocky, and high-pitched voice vibrated off of the surrounding masses of rock.\nWe were both now sitting where we paused our climb, 15 feet away from each-other. I cringed at this new opportunity for conversation.\n\n\n\"So, how many times have you used this path? Do many others come around here?\" He asked, that effervescent grin of his remaining consistent through each word.\n\n\n\"This is my third time, and no; I've never seen anyone else use it. Say, what is it with your sister's previous two marriages? What happened to those guys?\" My wife, throughout our relationship, has always avoided this question. Maybe he can be of some use after all?\n\n\n\"Erm, I'm not sure, they kinda disapeared, y'know?\" He finished his beans, and put the empty can back in his pack.\n\n\n\"Ah, okay. Well, let's keep going then.\" As usual, he's useless. We continued onward up the slope.\n\n\nAbout 100 feet later, I hear a shuffling of dirt, he is gaining ground quickly. \n\n\nI ignore it, the idiot is just wasting energy.\n\n\n\"It's because they weren't good enough for her.\" I hear in a shrill voice.\n\n\nTurning around, I see Kevin, five feet away from me. In his hand, is a thick hunting blade.\n\n", "Saying the climb was arduous was the understatement of the century. It had taken months, no, years of preparation. Intensive training, conditioning, and mental sharpening had gone into this. They were at the peak of human capability. Thousands of dollars had been spent acquiring the special gear and travel required to reach their destination. This was it. The precipice of his existance and the next great leap for mankind.\n\n*Ckshhz* What a beautiful sunrise. Don't you agree, Nautilus-1?\n\n*Ckshhz* Sure do, Nautilus-2. Sure d- Awwwww, shit.\n\n*Ckshhz* What is it? We're 500ft from being the highest humanity has been from a planet's surface.\n\n*Ckshhz* Well, about that... We're on the wrong damn mountain. Olympus Mons is that one over there...", "Setting his pack down for a quick breather, Bill could see it, the summit. So close to finally completing their 2 week trek to the top of the mountain. It was a shame that Sally hadn't come, she had been really emotional and prone to tears the whole time leading up to this trip. She had tried to persuade him not to go, but he'd managed to get this trip, he'd needed this trip.\n\nGreg got up beside him and leaned his pack against Bill's. The two of them stared off at the view. It was magical, the clouds were crisp and clearly outlined in the baby blue sky. After a few minutes of silence, Greg spoke, \"This'll be a story to tell your kid eh?\"\n\nBill's head whipped around, \"What?\"\n\nGreg looked at him, \"You know, you and Sally's kid. I heard she's toughing it out and let you go on this trip because it meant so much to you. That kid deserves a good story.\"\n\nBill stared at Greg as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. Sally's distress at Bill leaving. Her hesitation in giving a clear reason. Sweet, beautiful Sally alone in that house.\n\nI have a kid coming.\n\nAs soon as that thought clicked, his body moved to action. Grabbing his pack, he began sliding down the path they had so tediously climbed. He moved at a reckless pace, there was somewhere he had to be. Greg shouted behind him, \"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! We're almost at the top.\"\n\nBill didn't waste his breath trying to respond. \n\nSally is alone right now. \n\n\nShe needed me and I left her to go climb this... this... rock. \n\nThere was no beauty to it anymore, the mountain was in his way. He had somewhere to be. He would not be stopped until he got back to where he belonged.", "There's a part of the human mind that is inherently arrogant. I'd discovered this several times over throughout the four day climb, surprising myself with just how little I knew about this whole endeavor that James and I were undertaking. After living in one of the windiest places in the States for ten years I thought I knew what real, cold wind was like: wind that cuts lines across my face and sweeps my hair into a raging animal, that burns my eyes and digs into my bones. But the gusts back home were nothing compared to what we had experienced climbing Everest. The air here seemed a living being, a demon hell-bent on my destruction. She's ferociously fast, incomprehensibly loud, and colder than the most brutal of winter nights. \n\nWith each new step I paid my dues to the spirit, and now, just five hundred feet from the summit, we seemed to be growing a mutual respect.\n\nThe guide we had hired was climbing behind me, keeping a steady pace. I had insisted that I take point on the journey - out of pride or stupidity, I still don't know. Regardless, I'm sure he appreciated the buffer I provided, shielding him from some of the gale, as there are not many other comforts when you're at the top of the world. James and I had started our day with vigor, emboldened by the progress we made. I was eager to reach the peak of the mountain. Few words were exchanged as we started our ascent. The oxygen tanks were the only thing that were keeping the group going, so conversation was kept to a minimum at this point in the trek.\n\nWhich was why I was surprised to hear James's voice behind me, clear as day.\n\n\"We're almost there, Daniel.\"\n\nShocked, I nearly lost my balance and would've tumbled down the face of the mountain had the guide not caught me just in time. Gathering myself, I turned to him and shouted through the mask.\n\n\"Did you say something?\"\n\nThe guide shook his head. He gestured to me, forming a strained OK symbol through the thick gloves. I a thumbs-up in return and turned back towards the summit, feeling foolish. I patted the side of my pack and, with relief, felt the small box through the nylon. It was still intact. None of the ashes had fallen out.\n\nAnother gust of wind buffeted my chest, yet this time it felt soothing. My mind cleared and my heart calmed. \n\nPerhaps, through our new friendship, the wind spirit had just been carrying one last message from James to me.", "It was blowing an easy 30 knots and we had to lean at what felt like a forty-five degree angle to remain upright. Every gust threatened to blow us off the col. Roger's efforts to pantomime some question to me disappeared in a frenzy of flailing limbs, blown out by the wind like a whisper at a rock concert.\n\nI kicked in, double checked that I was clipped on and that my pole straps were secure around my wrists. Letting go of the handles of the poles, they blew to my left, horizontal. The pull of the straps against my arms felt as though I was swimming through honey. \n\nI turned into the wind and my hood whipped off my head. I'd not thought it would be ripped off and was reaching to pull it back. Good thing or else my stocking cap would have taken a 5000 foot tumble. Ice crystals smashed into my skull as though I were in a sandblaster. It wouldn't take long, exposed as I was, for my bare scalp to freeze solid. \n\nI carefully unhinged the right side of my oxygen mask, taking care - and failing - to not be smacked in the face by my hiking pole blown across my face. With my other hand I - just as ineffectively as Roger - I attempted to point, first at myself and then to him to indicate he should do the same. \n\nFumbling, the 30 seconds it took for him to dig in and unmask felt like an eternity. It felt as though the blood in my scalp had turned to ice. Leaning in Roger shouted, inches from my ear. He was a loud man with a booming voice but in the roar of the wind I could barely make out his words.\n\n\"Do you have the keys?\"", "“Aaah, nope. Nope. This isn’t gonna work.” Greg’s nasal twang cut through the raging wind with astonishing clarity. \n \n“What?” I turned around. We had 500 feet to go. 500 feet. “Did you drop something?”\n\nHe had his phone out, his disgustingly snow-burnt nose held half an inch from the screen. “You ‘member those two dudes from base camp the other day. Err,” he snapped his fingers, “/u/NolanTheIrishman, aaand /u/axis_of_weevil?”\n\n“Yeah,” I shouted through my face mask. “What? What about ‘em? Did they fall?!”\n\n“Wha? Nah, nah not that,” said Greg. His avocado shape teetered precariously in the gale. “They’re up there right now and they just posted this bitchin panoramic pic on reddit, aaand it’s…yep, it’s blowin’ up now. /r/Earthporn, /r/Climbing, they got all of it. It’s done. We’re done. This is pointless.”\n\nHe pulled a banana out of his pocket, peeled it with a disappointed huff and bit down as he started tromping back through the snow, disappearing into the frosty haze.\n\nI sighed and turned back toward the summit. “I fucking hate you Greg.”\n" ]	7
	[WP] Sometimes there's one shoe on the side of the road. Write it's story.	[ "It wasn’t too long ago that I was part of something. Not something great- we never changed the world in any way. But it was something, and it existed because I was there to help it exist. Here on my own, I’m nothing. My humble story is not very interesting, I’m afraid. But it is an honest one, a real one.\n\nThere was this cupboard. It was dark and smelled of dust, sweat and joy. A small beam of light would stream in and illuminate the dust particles, making it seem like glitter raining down upon us. There was a simple happiness we shared in that, a simple contentedness in being there with all of us, each of us bearing a load but understanding that was what gave us purpose.\n\nEvery once in a while the door would open, momentarily blinding us with the light. As curious eyes looked us over we all hoped we would be chosen, though none resented not being picked. We understood we all got our turn, some were just made to walk in the light a little more. I was at peace being a downtrodden, little-chosen one. I’d had my heyday. Besides, rain or shine, I always had my best friend right by my side. George. He had a name that started right at the toe of his worn leather and travelled all the way up to the lick, finishing with a nice, sturdy, ‘eh.’ It suited him to a T.\n\nGeorge. My runaway buddy. Ever since we were first pushed into a box together, we’ve been inseparable. Through thick and thin all the way to completely worn out, George has been by my side, steady as a rock. Steady as a fighter. When I started getting really weary and discovered a hole in my life, George stuck by me. He was fine and I was not, but he stayed right with me through surgery and all. I was never quite whole again, but having George with me made every breath a little calmer, every step a little sturdier.\nIf it wasn’t for that hole, I wouldn’t be here right now. If it wasn’t for George’s famed sturdiness and reliability, I wouldn’t be at the other end of the world. \n\nYou can’t really blame someone for having fun, letting go, losing inhibitions. Losing an old shoe. Forgetting it was ever on your foot to begin with. \n\nI’m alright where I am. I get to see the light, the dust particles still dance for me, and the rain slowly melts away at me like a gentle river eroding the banks. All that kills me is the knowledge that George is somewhere in a dark bin, surrounded by trash and waste. I hope he was put out of his misery.\n\nI love you, George.\n", "\nIt was just a shoe.\n\n\nIt was small, pink-and-white, with a picture of Dora the Explorer on the side. It just sat there on the side of the road. You might have even seen it on your way to work. Maybe you did see it and you didn’t really think anything of it. After all, it was on the side of the road, not in your way at all.\n\n\nMaybe, if you were to have stopped and picked it up, you would have seen it for what it really is. You would have noticed that it was still slightly warm to the touch. You would have felt the weight of it. Not the relatively light weight of its physical being, but the real weight of it. You would have known that this shoe carried with it a lifetime of unanswered questions. Along with it came a thin veil of hope that grew dimmer with each passing day. You would see the shattered lives, the destruction of dreams, and the darkness that wrought it all.\n\n\nBut you didn’t stop. You never stop. Why would you? Why would anyone? It is easier to believe that monsters aren’t real, if you never stop to look for them.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] A lone soul on an uncharted island watches a ship sail by... And decides not to signal for help.	[ "What the fuck is that? White triangle. Way off in the distance. Holy shit, I'm saved. It's been six months, all alone. Just me and those thieving fucking monkeys. I can go back. My job, my TV, my apartment, I'm getting all of it back. I can be normal again. Back to the 9-to-5, back to vacuuming and shopping. Back to reality television and back to alcohol and back to women.\n\nAnd then it hits me: I don't really miss any of that stuff. I'm in the best shape of my life. I'm a goddamned predator now. I kill what I eat. I own this goddamned island. I'm glad I fell off the side of that cruise, and I'm glad nobody noticed in time to rescue me.\n\nI could do it. I still have the flint and tinder ready. I could start a fire and go back to the Wal-Marts and the TV shows and the women that never paid attention to me in the right ways. But I won't. I don't want to go back to the land of the dead. I'm alive right here, right now. Every day is a new challenge on staying alive.\n\nI'm staying.", "He isn't sure how long it was since he was marooned by misfortune. Truthfully, it was difficult to say where and when it all happened. Maybe it was here or maybe it was there, but all he knew he was stuck and not going anywhere anytime soon.\n\nIf you were to tell him years ago this is where he would end up, this is where he would be stranded he probably would've laughed in your face at the very idea. It was such a steady course, such a trusted vessel, such a promising journey that so many had gone on before. There couldn't possibly be a way he'd end up here, right? \n\nHe certainly laughs now, though it is a mirthless laugh shared by no other save the one laughing and the one laughed at. \n\nHe suppose he didn't have much a right to complain. After all, he is sufficiently fed, has a place to sleep and isn't in immediate danger. Sure, the occasional storms are bad, but nothing worse than what he suffered through before. There probably was some other poor soul stranded out there, like him, that had it worse than he did every day. Best keep your head down and carry on, he supposed.\n\nBut suddenly, he spots a flash of color making its way closer towards him with each passing moment. He considers what to do. Perhaps he should signal for help, or maybe it'd be better to wait. Who knows what could happen? Was it really worth the risk? What if it was too much trouble? \nThere would always be more chances after all. But whatever he decided, he had do something and do it fast.\n\n\"Hey man, glad you could make it! How've you been?\"\n\nHe shakes his friend's outstretched hand and gives a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. \n\n\"Just fine, man.\" he replies, holding back a sigh. \"A little tried, but fine.\"\n", "September 9, 1720\nEnsign William Cooper of the HMS Majestic\n\nI don't actually know if anyone is going to read this, but it helps me keep my wits about me. Perhaps recounting the events of my tragic marooning here might help me order things in my head. \n The Majestic was a pirate hunter in her majesties navy, and maybe that was our mistake. We had been driven hard by our commander, a rather inexperienced man by the name of Scott. Maybe we just went a bit too long without food, maybe we just we're tired of just missing our quarry, but the crew mutinied. A small contingent of loyal soldiers fought hard to protect the cabin but we were overwhelmed. Because I was just a lowly ensign, the mutineers gave me the courtesy of marooning me on a no name archipelago. Now here I sit. I've got a rudimentary shelter but that's it, nothing but my blade, two shots for my pistol and my uniform coat. \nSeptember 30 1720\nI think that is today's date, by god I think my grip on time is slipping. 20 days on this blasted island and no sign of rescue. I find myself on a beach looking out on a lagoon. A large shark has prevented my fishing its waters though. I fear I'm his true target, as he keeps swimming into the shallows every time I come close to the water. Almost beaching himself. I shall look inland for my food, as Grey keeps me away from the fish. \n\nNovember 1720\nMust keep it sharp... Must keep it sharp..this blade is my connection to my life. My quill is on the verge of being worn to dust. I don't know what I'll do if I can't write. Grey is following me as I search the island. The bloody shark won't leave me alone.it eyes me from the safety of the sea as I pace the shore. I've constructed a large rescue fire out of dry wood. All it needs is a spark to light but my hope of rescue is dying.\n1721\nDoes time even matter on this island? If I stop counting the months does time pass? This all there is now, MY island, MY kingdom. \n\nThere are intruders on my island, I can't find their camp but I see the tracks they leave in my jungle. Grey tells me they are here to take my land. I'll see that they don't leave my kingdom alive\n\nA ship A ship A ship A ship A ship A ship, here to take me.. Here to take me away from my kingdom, my subjects, Grey, Grey my only friend and confidant. I'll show them! I hid! Hid away hid far away far far away into the jungle.No one takes a king from his kingdom.", "He saw it clearly, white and billowy, smoothly crossing the horizon. His gear was all prepared, and had been for weeks. One pile of tinder, kindling, and logs with a lighter resting closely. A nice secondary pile of grass and other greenery to smother the flames and create the thick white signal that would beckon aid. Yesterday, he would have run to the carefully sculpted mounds and begun his oft practiced series of motions to conjure up the flames, mold them to the correct proportions, manipulate the smoke, and summon rescue. He would have been gleeful and thankful and kissed the sky.\n\nBut today, today was day 22. And just as he was finally starting to think \"I'm actually going to make it,\" the universe decided \"teehee, one second.\" He did not feel himself and in the same moment that he saw billows, he felt billows in his stomach and retched blood-tinged coconut meat onto the white sands. Vinson knew he would be the last of the quarantined, and according to authorities, the last human host. \n\nEbola would be no more.", "Uncharted Isle\n\n... ... ...\n\n'We never should have deviated course,' the navigator said, not for the first time.\n\n'At least, we should have reported our telemetry to the exploratory commission. That was a mistake,' the communication officer agreed, not for the first time.\n\n'We need to fix our uplink,' said the navigator. He hunched over the panel and wiped the sweat from his brow, his hands shaking a little. 'Please, Si, I need you to tell me how.'\n\nThe communication officer, Si, he smiled weakly and brushed the back of his hand against the navigator's cheek. 'I've already told you how. I've already told you what you need to do. Don't you remember?'\n\n'I... I remember...'\n\nHe wiped sweat from his brow once more, his eyes boring into the mass of tangled cables and burnt out circuit boards, but the navigator's eyes saw through the broken pieces of his vessel to a time, a memory, when the long hours of eternal night weren't spent living and reliving past transgressions.\n\n'Please, please, Si. Tell me how to fix this relay. There isn't much time.'\n\n'There isn't a way,' said Si. 'Roh, you need to leave this behind.'\n\nLifting his head and turning to face the communication officer, Roh felt his voice wavering as he looked into the clear blue eyes of the other man, 'I don't know if I can. I don't know if I can leave you behind.'\n\nSi cupped Roh's cheek, and without meaning to Roh clasped the hand with his own and leaned in gently with his weight. He felt tears springing to his eyes as Si whispered into his ear, 'Please, I need you to go. I love you, Roh, and I don't want you to die here too. Please.'\n\n'Okay. Okay, I'll go. But I'm coming back for you.'\n\nLooking up, for a moment Roh sat in shock, expecting his friend to be sitting across from him. Si was nowhere to be found... He remembered: no, Si died nearly eighteen months ago. The navigator was alone.\n\nBut he wouldn't be soon if he could fix the radio. Nearly a day before Roh spotted another ship approaching his tiny island among the vast ocean of stars and darkness. If he could signal to it, they would be able to rescue him. So he straightened himself, braced his thoughts against the black loneliness and went aft to the airlock where he methodically began to dress into his skin suit. He made sure the attachments for his thermal-vest were rigged proper, function-checked his O2-tank and after slipping his helmet on, tested the seals for pressure. Roh checked the comms-link, the heads up display, and was satisfied that his suit was functioning properly.\n\nHe dogged the inner hatch, depressurized the chamber and with some trepidation, he took a deep breath to steady himself and opened the outer hatch. Darkness beyond, and footsteps visible in the snow within the narrow cone of light that spilled out of the airlock. Roh stepped out, moving slowly, moving carefully and taking long, deep breaths to distract his mind from the fact that on this airless rock, there was little gravity holding him to the icy surface from eternity, above.\n\nWithin the shadow of the valley, the darkness was nearly impenetrable. Roh had to be careful of his footing, and the way that he pushed off from the ground: leaning far forward, pushing off almost directly horizontal to the ground with as little bounce as possible, he gave the appearance of a climber scrambling up a steep slope. A careless step might bounce him nearly twenty meters into space and take as long as a minute or more to fall back to the surface. A hard jump might leave him hanging in orbit for a half hour, and the fall invariably damaging or lethal. And above him, the stars twinkled in malevolence, in hunger, for the slightest mistake.\n\nRoh climbed out of the valley into the pale brilliance of Jupiter, whose reflective light cast the peaks of the lonely comet in eerie twilight. The Jovian planet was not large in the sky, but she was big enough that the navigator could feel her presence calling to him, encouraging him to shake off his loneliness and despair long enough to signal to the passing ships that might be swinging past for exploratory flybys. On one of the ridges that ran along the valley, Roh saw the shape of the transmitter that he and Si had dragged up from the valley nearly a year and a half before.\n\nRoh looked back the way that he came and saw the distant running lights of the crumpled 'Komarov,' but could make out little detail of her shape or her condition. He didn't need to see her of course, to know her shape. For the past two years he was marooned within her confines, tending to her damaged plasma core and ensuring the tubules of the oxygen garden were fed and functioning. Si, the only other surviving crew-member of the failed expedition rebuilt a device to transmit their distress signal, but it was a weak device, and they needed to wait for years while the comet transited across the solar system and crossed near the orbit of Jupiter.\n\n'Two years,' Si said. 'We'll need to stretch our supplies nearly two years before we can activate the transmitter. By then we will be within Jupiter's shipping lanes and we should get picked up.'\n\nNot more than a day ago, as Roh looked up into the night sky with the 'Komarov's' optics, he spotted the approaching light of a passing ship. No doubt swinging out from Jupiter to take a close-up of the passing comet. It would make its first pass in a matter of hours, and, if Roh could activate the transmitter in time the vessel might be able to adjust its trajectory and rescue him.\n\nThe transmitter was not far from the 'Komarov,' located about 400 meters straight distance from the marooned vessel and on the highest peak of the ridge. Still, it took Roh nearly an hour to reach the device. As he drew near, he could make out the bulky, gold-paneled module, and the small wings of solar panels that powered the transmitter. At its foot, he could see the thing that had kept him away for so long.\n\nIt was a small shape. Smaller than he expected and reduced, somehow. Curled up at the base of the transmitter and wearing a 'Komarov' skin suit lay the corpse of his friend, Si. His helmet lay a meter distant from his body; Roh breathed, realizing the man had removed his helmet in the final moments of his life, and cast it away.\n\nCrawling up to the corpse, Roh looked down at the exposed, desiccated face of his friend, whose eyes had sunken, and lips curled back to reveal a hideous grin. The skin had browned and blackened on the exposed, grey moonscape, and had thawed, then froze time and again until little remained of the man save a shriveled shape wearing a uniform.\n\n'Oh god,' Roh whispered, caressing the hideous face of the corpse.\n\nWhere were his blue eyes? The soft lips that he used to kiss? The powerful arms that had wrapped the navigator up during the endless night? Gone away... Gone away...\n\n'We won't have enough food or water to survive for two years,' Roh said, his face buried in his hands.\n\n'We can do it, Roh, we can stretch our supplies as long as we need,' Si replied, and gripped the navigator's arm encouragingly. 'Things will be very lean, but I know that we can make it, together.'\n\nOn the final day of placing the transmitter, Si performed the last necessary system's check while Roh remained behind on the 'Komarov,' monitoring the communication officer's progress. Suddenly overcome with the immensity of their journey, of the dire and precarious nature of their survival, Roh went down to the airlock and bolted shut the outer hatch. When Si returned, he transmitted, 'Hey, uh, Roh, it looks like you've buttoned up the outer hatch. You mind letting me in?'\n\nA couple of minutes later: 'Knock knock, Roh, let me in.'\n\nA couple of minutes later: 'Hey, um... Starting to get a little concerned. What's going on?'\n\nThen: 'I'm going to be running on fumes here in about a half hour. Can you hear me tapping on the hull? Let me in, buddy.'\n\nThen: 'Roh, please talk to me.'\n\nThen: 'Please.'\n\nThen: 'I love you.'\n\nThen nothing. In the end, rather than face excruciating hypoxia, Si removed his helmet and breathed vacuum, quickly succumbing to unconsciousness.\n\nRoh began to sob, bent over the body of his mate. 'Oh god, Si! How could you ever forgive me?'\n\nHe felt a hand rest gently on the back of his head. He heard his friend's voice in the intercom, soft, reassuring, 'It's okay, Roh. I love you. Don't make my death meaningless. I want you to live and tell our story. Go. I love you.'\n\nShaking his head, feeling the tears pouring from his eyes, the navigator contemplated the long and shameful years of his survival, of being apart from Si whom had kept him such faithful company during the past eighteen months. Even if he lived for a hundred-thousand years, how could he ever escape this tumbling rock? His memory would be forever locked in this time, and Si's face a ghost to haunt his every dream.\n\nRoh looked into the face of his friend, and he gripped the gloved hand of the corpse with his own. 'I love you too, Si.'\n\nThe navigator pulled off his helmet and died next to his crew-mate.\n\nThe wreck of the 'Komarov' was never found.", "I ran through the jungle. Branches lash my arms and roots grab at my feet as i speed towards the beach. I gather my will and prepare to unleash a blast of fire as soon as im clear of the trees. This time, this time it will be different. They'll see the flames and rescue me. I leap a fallen trunk and I'm on the beach, I raise my arms in the air and stop dead when I see the body on the beach. The corpse of a young girl. She looked around Maggie's age. I fall to my knees and relax my will, releasing the pent up energy back into the environment around me. Why bother signalling. Everytime I signalled and a ship drew close to the island some catastrophe caused it to fail. Last time it had been a yacht. I's sent up a plume or veridian flame and it adjusted course, sailing into the bay, when suddenly the skies darkened and a bolt of lightning struck it, causing a massive explosion. There was only one place the body could have come from. Only one person to blame. Maybe I deserved this island. Maybe it was my own fault for denying the will of a god.", "I heard a noise. A strange noise that didn't even register in my brain at first. Sam's reaction to it brought it to my attention. He was sitting by the table eating when suddenly he froze and looked off into the distance. \"Sam? What is it?\" He didn't respond, like usual. Karigan grunted, and when I turned to her, she was staring off in the same direction. That's when I heard it too. A far-off, high pitch whistle. It was something so utterly strange after all these years that it froze me in place for a moment. Before I knew it, I was out onto the balcony and down the wooden gangplank with the kids following close behind me. I raced through the jungle, covering the brief mile to the beach faster than I ever have before. I flew to the pile of driftwood that I had maintained for years for just this purpose. I could see the freighter a few miles off the coast of my small island. It blasted its whistle again. It must have been blown off course in the storm that came through yesterday. I slid through the sand to the base of my bonfire and starting striking my flint, desperately trying to get a spark. Sam chittered beside me and it made me pause. He was squatting next to me with Karigan a little way behind him. His little furry head was tipped curiously to the side. I stretched my hand out to him and he scrambled up my arm and started grooming my head. I stood and walked down the water line with Karigan trailing behind. Together, we watched the freighter disappear from view. It was then that I realized that I would die here on this island. I couldn't leave those that had become my family. Someone had to maintain the house I built for us.", "The last bone, sucked dry, was chucked into the flames at his feet. He was warm and sated in the pleasant tropical breeze of the night. He pulled a stray hair from his teeth and leaned his back into the palm tree. The gentle chirp of the evening insects was soothing and the last few rays of the sun were disappearing over the sea.\n\nA shadow drifted in the side of his vision and he bounded up to his feet and ran to the edge of the shore. He caught a glimpse of running lights and heard the faint waning grapple of a motor. The ship was so large it cast out the last light and plunged him into a brief darkness. An ocean liner, a cruise ship, or even an oil rig. Either way could work out. He made no motion to them, nor did he consider it for a single moment. Let fate decide, he thought. Let them be tested as I was.\n\nHe tripped back to his seat by the fire and picked up his best agate and sharpening stone. He honed the edge back to it’s finest point, having dulled it just that morning. He wound it with strips of sea grass to a long pole and set it aside next to the others. He put away his tools and settled himself into his hammock. He admired the stitching he himself had done, his ingenuity at re-purposing the left over clothing. The breeze rocked him gently from side to side and he thought of all that tomorrow might bring. And in the distance, barely a whisper above the roaring waves, he heard the brief crack of the ships bottom on the reef and the terrified screams of the passengers.\n\nAll ashore that’s going ashore, for tomorrow he would feast.", "The past few nights, I’ve had those dreams. You know the ones that seem so real, so vivid, that when you wake up you have to really think about where you are? And then you realize that you aren’t where you thought you were...that things aren’t nearly as good as they were just an instant ago. Then you’re overcome with such sadness and loss that you can’t hardly fathom even getting up. Yeah, those dreams.\n\n\nThis morning, when I rose up off of the ground, I swept some sand away from my cheek without remembering why there would even be sand on my cheek in the first place. Just seemed like the thing to do, I guess. I rolled over and was jolted into the conscious world by a red hot pain in my leg. I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure I broke my ankle in the crash. It hurts like hell, but I don’t think I should complain. Wouldn’t do any good, anyway. There’s no one here to complain to.\n\n\nI’ve been wondering if I’m depressed. I go back and forth between thinking it’s depression to thinking it's just self pity. I don’t know if the two are mutually exclusive, but I feel like it would be easier to overcome the pity. They say that lack of appetite and fatigue is a symptom of depression, but that’s hard to gauge here. There isn’t any food for me to eat and I’m fairly certain that my lack of energy is a direct result of both the starvation and the trauma I’ve suffered. \n\n\nTrauma. There I go pitying myself again. All I’ve suffered is a broken ankle. I don’t even remember the crash. The last thing I remember is hitting a little turbulence. My wife was nervous and holding my hand. My son was in the seat in front of us, and I was telling him to turn around and put his seatbelt on. I’ll admit I was pretty nervous myself, but I was sure that everything was normal. The next thing I knew, I was lying on a beach staring out into an empty sea.\n\n\nThere’s a ship out there now. I saw it as soon as I woke up. I’d imagine they’re looking for survivors. Maybe they’re just looking for answers. They aren’t looking over here, I’m fairly certain of that. I could start a fire to signal them. It’s been a long time since I was a boy scout, camping out in the western Oregon wilderness, but I think I still could manage a spark or two. I’m just not sure I want to.\n\n\nMaybe I am depressed after all, but the honest question is, what would I even be going back to? I’d get on that boat full of happy people. They’d shake my hand and congratulate me on my ability to survive. Then they’d go home to their families. They’d have holidays and weddings and all of those moments of pure joy. I’d have a quiet home filled with reminders of everything I’ve lost. I’d have a life filled with sad looks from acquaintances and empty wisdom from people that have no idea what I am feeling. \n\n\nThere’s nothing left for me except questions I can’t answer. The biggest one is why did I deserve this? What made me so special that I was the only one to wash up on this beach? Why did my wife and child, who were both better people than I’ve ever dreamt of being, deserve to be dead? What great thing had I ever done, or will I ever do, to earn the right to be saved?\n\n\nIf you can answer that you’re doing better than I am.\n\nI think I’m just going to sit here awhile and watch the ship pass by. I’m going to go to sleep and hope that whatever good I really have done in this life can lead me back to those dreams.\n", "It was at first, a low, bellowing sound. More importantly, it was a foreign sound. After 6 months stuck on an island, I had been preparing for this moment since I had crashed into this island half a year ago. The wood from my ship was piled for a bonfire, the gas can was ready to be poured onto the pile and the lone match I had had been meticulously kept dry for this very occasion. \n\nA ship was coming. And not just any ship, a cruise ship to boot. I had no idea where I was, but I knew that the tiny archipelago of islands I was stuck on formed a makeshift harbour that remained calm even in the craziest of sea storms. The ship must have been coming in to shelter itself from an incoming storm. \n\nI ran to the bonfire, poured the gasoline onto the pile and lit my match. I motioned to throw the match onto the pile and at the last second threw it into a puddle nearby instead, ruining any chance to be rescued in the future. As a child I had dreamed of making enough money to be able to one day stop working and spend my days fishing and playing the harmonica. Life had granted me that wish when it sent the storm that crashed me onto this island six months ago. The fishing rods I had on board were enough to keep me well fed, the island was quiet and warm year round and there was plenty of vegetation for me to keep a diversified diet. My days were spent fishing and playing that old, slightly off-tune harmonica while waiting for a bite. All that ship promised was a return to the day to day grind of the corporate world. And for what? To try and one day be rich enough to be able to fish all day while playing the harmonica.\n\n\"Those people on that ship have far more money than I do,\" I thought, \"but they'll never get to experience the lifestyle that I have at the moment. Poor bastards.\" " ]	10
	[WP] The dead begin rising, but they don't try to eat anyone and just wander around	[ "Grandpa, when did you first start to hate grandma? And did she always nag at you like she did my mom? The little guy couldn't help himself. I was \"grandpa\" at this point. I simply said well billy, before or after death? My grandson didn't really get it. He was quite young. Not sure if he got the whole, dead people can wander kinda thing. I mean, grandma was buried miles away so, how could he know that the real grandma was actually wandering around town bothering people. At this point people were not really put into the earth. There were almost farms. Why? Well because it was cheaper. Mean? Maybe, but still cheaper, and some people like that people in their family were still \"alive.\" Now that I have wandered in my head as grandpa, I went to answer his question. All I said was, \"billy, I first hated your grandma when she came back from the dead.\"", "I'm not exactly sure how long it's been, you know, since \"they\" started showing up. I just woke up one day, and they were there.\n\nIt seems like all they do is wander around. No one knows why. And honestly, that might be the worst part. They just walk around like we don't even exist. They don't make eye contact, they just walk past us.\n\nWe're told not to touch them. We're warned that they might carry disease. That didn't stop me 6 months ago. \n\nI walk up to her. A girl, 17 at most, and I tap her shoulder. She whips around and just looks at me in fear. She says in a hush, \"You can't...I mean, your kind isn't supposed to...\" Then, without another word, she runs away.\n\nI notice she dropped a few pieces of paper when she left. One pamphlet says:\nDO NOT ENGAGE THE ZOMBIES. IGNORE THEM AT ALL COST.\n\n\"Zombies? We're not zombies. I'm not even dead!\" Or at least that's what I though at first.\n\nNow, I'm not so sure. They call themselves \"humans.\" They look just like us, but still a bit different, in a way I can't quite describe.\n \nHumans say all we do is wander around, just walking, never stopping.\n\nThe funny thing is, humans do the exact same thing.\n\n(Please forgive any formatting, spelling or grammatical errors. I'm on moblie and I wrote this with very limited time)" ]	2
Lots of prompts ask and replies talk about the one aspect of humanity that will not be present in alien races that makes us special. Music, lying, warfare, to name a few. I'm hoping for humans going into space thinking the same, only to find they are mediocre, or average at best.	[WP] Humanity travels into space, meeting many other races, but aren't as special as they thought they would be.	[ "\"Every new race believes that they are somehow special or chosen. The only thing that varies is the intensity of this belief - from wishful thinking to outright fanaticism. It is my responsibility to evaluate the race and see if there is a unique place for them in the current galactic society. I have taken the liberty of carefully examining your race as I do with all new civilizations. I've studied your biology, psychology, history, your arts, the way your technology has progressed, casual influences and habits which your people are not even aware of, and millions of other little facts,\" the Xeno-councelor told the representatives of humanity in a cool mechanically translated voice, \"I have the results.\"\n\nThe ten human representatives sat in custom fabricated seats, eagerly awaiting what the huge mass of cybernetics and flowing robes would say. They didn't have to wait long. \n\n\"The near invulnerable X'eem are better infantry warriors. The crafty Vulabala, better tacticians. The O'oo'xxoe version 8, are better at greater strategy. The patiently empathic Voeelii are better diplomats. The O'oo'xxoe version 6 are the most efficient at running finance and trade. The devious Xooud were better at lies and surveillance until the galactic council voted that they were tired of their constant falsehoods and craven actions. There are currently no more unaltered Xooud.\"\n\nWords in the languages of all the Earth's representatives floated upwards on one of the many floating screens in the massive chamber. The report went on for almost an hour before the representative from Russia spoke up, \"Is there anything us humans are good at? Anything that makes us unique?\"\n\nThe Xeno-councelor paused in his report and the data on the holographic board suddenly scrolled upwards with great speed. \n\n\"The short-lived Dreee are more impatient. Ah, here it is. While their capacity for the production of entertainment are near the top percentile, Humans are the best at making a food known as pizza.\"\n\nSilence reigned.\n\nThe Chinese delegate spoke for them all when he uttered a loud, \"What?\"\n\nThe Xeno-councelor answered, \"Almost all other human foods have equivalents which are better made by other races. But humanity's skill in creating a food you call 'pizza' is higher than the thirteen other races that have an equivalent food.\"\n\n\"What about borscht?\" exclaimed the Russian representative.\n\n \"Of the eight races that have an equivalent meal, the Cugsei-Ranzi's soup of red enlightenment is commonly referred to as a festival for the senses. I have had the food fabricator manufacture you a some to try. It has been altered to fit your biochemistry, of course. \n\nA spoon and a small bowl full of reddish soup floated over to the Russian delegate. With cautious hands, he took a spoonful of soup and tried it. \n\nCarefully, he put the empty spoon back in the bowl and leaned back in his chair.\n\n\"How was it?\" asked the American delegate as she eyed the bowl with some interest. \n\nThe delegate from Russia slowly turned towards his counterpart, and knowing that he was being watch by billions back on Earth and trillions in the greater galaxy, he spoke with carefully deliberated words, \"I do not like borscht anymore. I have now developed large new craving for pizza.\"", "Our greatest disappointment was also our greatest strength. Over three hundred years ago mankind put the finishing touches on our first Alcubierre Warp drive equipped ship. The Endeavor was launched amidst much fanfare, bringing with it the hopes and dreams of our entire species. We knew to expect emptiness and barren worlds. We knew to expect worlds with atmospheres similar to Earths. But what we did not expect to find was the Galactic Church of Light.\n\nAfter warping in to Gliese 832 it only took a few minutes for the sensors on the ship to determine that not only were there four worlds instead of the two we had detected with telescopes, but that all four worlds had life on them. Intelligent life. After a few moments of shock the ship went into stealth mode, shutting down all active sensors and external lights, hoping to observe. The preceding flash of gamma rays, released upon exit from the pseudo-space of warp was enough though. And several hours later a basic mathematical signal was detected. beep....beep....beep beep....beep beep beep....beep beep beep beep beep. Primes.\n\nA whirlwind of activity began and in short order, owing to the Dalthon's experience in contacting new species, we had established communications. Several years of growing relations occurred before The Revelation occurred. We had learned that the Dalthon's were but one of many species, joined together in what translated as the Galactic Church of Light. Tentatively we inquired as to the nature of this Church, but the Dalthon's replies were...strange. Rather then the enthusiastic levels of communication we usually received their responses came across more....confused. Eventually we gained an audience with the being that ran the Church of Light. We did not know what to expect, as this being was only ever referred to by its title. God.\n\nAs our ship approached the capital of the Church near the center of the galaxy we noted that for various definitions of God this might possibly be true. If only because any significantly advanced technology is quite easily indistinguishable from magic. But regardless, this man would simply be a man. In charge through power, coercion, election, or some other of the myriad means by which the galaxy chooses its leaders.\n\nUpon being led into the chambers of this \"God\" our diplomats were about to begin the usual galactic formalities of greeting when the unexpected occurred. The kind looking being that sat on the throne turned away from a conversation with its aid to meet the possible newcomers to its church. Upon gazing at the diplomats that kind aged face burst with hatred and disgust \"WHO DARES BRING THESE ABOMINATIONS BEFORE ME?!\"\n\nOur diplomats were startled by this and quickly began examining themselves to determine if perhaps some insect or other obvious slight had been unintentionally occurred. Again this booming voice roared \"WHO HAS BROKEN MY EDICTS?!\" as the man stood up, aids and priests backing away in fear. The trembling aid to the diplomatic team spoke up \"M...M'Lord! What edict do you speak of?\" as our team humbly bowed their heads, keeping silent for now. The man pointed a finger towards the team and a beam of light struck out and covered the team with a glow \"THESE....THESE SOULLESS BEASTS WERE NOT CREATED BY MY HAND! WHO HAS DELVED INTO THE FORBIDDEN SCIENCE OF GENETIC ENGINEERING!\"\n\nNeedless to say the team was dumbfounded by this and looked to their aid who was gazing at them with fear and a hint of disgust. After a moment the aid composed himself and looked up at the glowing man. \"My Lord, I do not understand. We have seen their genome, there is no artificial tampering to be found! They are pure!\" the aid stated in confusion. The leader of the diplomatic team decided now was the time to speak up. \"My Lord.\" he began properly, utilizing this beings title. \"We have quite a log showing our evolution over the last several hundred million years, we would be happy to show you that no tampering has occurred except for medicinal purposes only.\"\n\nThe aid suddenly hissed and pulled back \"EVOLUTION?! HERESY!\" he hissed out as the being known as God bared his teeth and stared for a moment. \"PASS UNTO THEM THE HOLY WRIT OF EXISTENCE AND THEN CAST THEM OUT! NO SUBJECT WITHIN MY DOMAIN IS TO HAVE CONTACT WITH THEM ON PUNISHMENT OF EVERLASTING HELLFIRE!\" he roared and with that the team and their aid found themselves back at the space dock. As the diplomatic team babbled, trying to make sense of what had just occurred and to speak with their aid, all they would get from the man was him shoving a beautifully bound metallic book and urges to leave and return home at once. Only after the aid threatened to call for the guard did our team reluctantly make their way aboard the ship and return home in confusion.\n\nOver the next ten years every attempt at communication with any and all intelligent aliens went without reply. In our despair over that which we could not comprehend, we looked at the book provided...and then The Revelation became clear...\n\nUpon study of the Holy Writ everything became clear. The Writ showed us with infallible logic and testable, provable experiments, that all life in the universe had been created by this God, all intelligent life had souls and an afterlife. All life that is...except for Earth. These experiments were performed in admittedly unethical ways upon life, captured and taken, from other star systems. But for humanity. For life on Earth....the results failed every time. And it dawned on us. Long had we assumed we were Gods chosen ones and as our view of the universe expanded, so did our assumptions and logic to make this be true.\n\nBut this was wrong. So very wrong.\n\n[continued]" ]	2
	[WP] You just discovered the meaning of life but before you post it on facebook, an angel appears before you.	[ "I sat there, my head buzzing. If only if only if only I could make them understand, have them listen.\n\nI sat there at the computer and shivered, with my hands poised mere millimetres above the keyboard as I ran my tongue along the top of my mouth and realised I was just sitting there waiting for... Nothing. What was I waiting for? Nothing really yet I felt that I was no longer in the room alone and... then... I knew why I had stopped.\n\n\"You know it doesn't matter right? Not only will most just ignore your post thinking you're being pretentious, but it wouldn't change the world.\"\n\nI sighed and let my shoulders drop. \"I know. But right now I want that to not be true...\"\n\nThe Angel glowed lightly and smiled softly but even then, the sheer sight of himl would have terrified most people. His frame was un-naturally large as well as his height, his head almost hitting off the top of ceiling 8 feet up, all four of his wings tucked behind him still taking up an excessive amount of space. The armour adorning his body was styled like an ancient Persian warrior but then you noticed the liquid flowing through it, the plasma sword and lots of weaponry that seemed far beyond anything even imaginable.\n\n\"By talking directly to God, by living for thousands of years, you know the truth but this is just the poison coursing through your veins making you think this way. You need to soldier on through the pain-\"\n\n\"But you don't know what it's like! I'm stuck here on the planet and you live in the heavens without having to slowly trudge through an eternity on Earth, even when I, I, I, I-\" I felt the poison trying to rip my body apart as the magical blood fought off the intrusive venom.\n\n\"Hold in there. Hold in there.\"\n\nI was on the floor now, digging my fingers into my head as I tried to clench through the searing pain.\n\n\"HOLD IN THERE. HOLD! HOLD!\"\n\nI couldn't tell if the Angel was screaming at me or if it the poison destroying my sense of reality but the room start to collapse in as I-\n\n...\n\n...\n\nI blinked. Oh jeez, that poison hit harder than I expected and, oh, it seemed I must have drawn down my Guardian Angel the venom was so severe. The entire room smelt of nothing as it's very presence had sterilised the entire flat and that this little episode was what had called him down, well, that was mildly embarrassing to say the least.\n\nNow what on earth do I have Facebook open for? Is that the meaning of life I'm typing out?\n\nHa.\n\nWho would even read that? \n\ndelete", "Steve sat there staring into the computer screen like he had thousands of times before. But this time is different, instead of a cat video or some psudo-political rhetoric he actually had something worth while to share. He had the answer to it all, the answer to why we are all here. He had the post typed up in a pair of paragraphs and he reads and re-reads it to check for spelling mistakes.\n\n\nBefore he posts he notices the ad start to play\n\n\n\"Damn it, I should have installed Adblock plus\"\n\n\nHe gets ready to click the Post button when the ad plays in full blast\n\n\n\"STOP! Don't press that before I say what I have to say\" The ad said\n\n\nSteve looked at the ad, it was for some crochet angels on etsy. \n\n\n\"I am an Angel and I was asked to come talk to you. Please hear me out, I know you just found the meaning of life and I need you to understand something\" The Angel said\n\n\n\n\"Ok, I'm listening\" Steve replied, still annoyed that Facebook puts ads on their site\n\n\n\"You understand it, but you don't understand what it means if you tell people what you know. It's no surprise that the world hasn't gone as plan, but your species is very different from what the original image was. But after a while we decided to let things go, let your species develop however they want without our guidance.\"\n\n\nSteve sits back into his chair, listening intently as the soft light of the monitor bathes him in light. \n\n\n\"Admittedly\" the Angel continues... \"We probably should have intervined a few times but in the end we wanted humanity to be responsible for humanity\"\n\n\n\"And because you did that, we ended up with Ebola, AIDS, HIV, Herpes, Justin Bieber, Crack babies, the Spanish inquisition, traffic jams, poverty, war lords, cocaine, heroin....\" Steve said angrily\n\n\n\"I get it. Things got skewed. But we made our choice and we had to go with it. But now that you know the truth, you can't share it. We believe that people are, for the most part, inherently good. There are some exceptions, but mostly they want to be good. Some people need religion in order to make it through their day to day lives. If you let this out, we believe that will change and will cause a lot of people to give up. Do you know what I mean by give up, Steve?\" The crochet Angel asked\n\n\n\"You mean they'll commit suicide\" He replied\n\n\n\"Or murder. Do you want to be the one that's responsible for so much suffering?\"\n\n\n\"No, I guess not. But people deserve to know the truth\" Steve said\n\n\n\"Yes, they do. And they will, in 500 years there's going to be an intellectual renaissance period and people will be better equipped and prepared to leave religion behind. But not today\"" ]	2
	[WP] Write a day in the life of somebody living in a future where water is scarce so every person is limited to 5 minutes of showering a day.	[ "Goddamnit I stink. \n\n5 minutes is just not enough! How am I suppose to wash out the plasma residue on my skin from working all day on dad's 2057 Chevrolet Omega? Or the smell of the vapour exhaust fumes from my new hoverboard!? I just can't feel clean with only 5 minutes of water, fucking cold water at that!\n\nHere we are, living in a world where cancer is cured, world peace has finally been achieved, and a intergalactic space organization has come to form. Yet here I am, dirty as fuck, shivering from a cold 5 minute shower that didn't even get me clean! And I've got a hot date tonight! I can't be cold!\n\nMaybe I'll go talk to dad to get one of those golden showers him and mom are always whispering about.", "They had made the credits out of gold. \n\nIt was so we would appreciate the value of what we were holding I guess. \n\nIn the beginning, there was a rebate if you installed one of the little meters in your home. It fitted snugly next to the handle in the shower and flashed different colors on the display panel. The people that chose to have them installed, they were the smart ones. National mandates rolled through the country calling for one in every home. They were sleeker this time, with a lot more cords, and had a print scanner and sensor on them, instead of just a token receptacle encased by the frosted panel with pretty lights. People were told they were better, because they didn't waste a single drop of water. As you entered the sealed shower unit the sensor detected your movement and preheated the water to a generally pleasant temperature. Pressing your finger to the print scanner enabled the meter to deliver a tailored water temperature, specific to your preferences, you could even have music if that’s what you had programmed the unit to deliver on the presentation of your finger. \n\nIt was easy in the beginning to acquire a few extra tokens here and there. They were given in the place of overtime pay sometimes, or as thank you gifts for friends or colleagues, and of course if you really wanted to treat someone in your life, there were always an extra few to be brought. Some families shared their tokens and sold the excess, and there were always buyers. These families had taken the rebate and installed the first meters. The second meters allowed only one person in the shower at a time, they also refused multiple tokens from the same finger print scan. It was to stop the selling of tokens, to enable every citizen to have their fair share of water, and to avoid unhygienic habits. Showering became less of a pleasurable experience and more of an event that was utilized, nothing more.\n\nI’d helped my cousin move towns, worked an entire weeks’ worth of overtime and brought a large amount of True Scout cookies from the neighbors’ kid this month. It had been worth it. I weighed the flat little credits in my hand 8. I had saved two myself, working so late I hadn't got around to showering before my next credit allocation had been available. Three were from my cousin, two were from the neighbor kids’ mom as a thank you for buying all the cookies, and the last token was mine for today. My neighborhood was okay, not overly well kept or flash, but decent enough. The owners of these houses had been quick to take up the rebates early on and did as little inspecting and maintenance as possible. I had my little penguin shower mp3 on a shuffle through “Classic Hits”, the nice smelling shampoo my mom had given me in a pack for Christmas and 40 minutes of water to myself.\n\nI locked the bathroom door and shrugged out of my robe. The meter did not react to my presence, it did nothing until I inserted my first token, my token from today. The lights begin to flash, and I quickly turned up my mp3 so I could hear it over the water, I turned the handle and the water came out freeing. The one downside of not having the fancy, newer meters. I loved each little icicle as it smashed against my skin, it slowly warmed but I was happy and in no hurry. I had 39 minutes of gold on the window ledge and nowhere to be for once. “Baby you’re a FIREWORK!” I sung into the shampoo bottle, easing an ache out of my back and shoulders. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You're the guy that makes Halloween special for others. You hide in the old abandoned mansion and make people walking by think it is haunted.	[ "Magic is gone from the world. There's an explanation and app for everything. Wonders like the sunrise and sunset, the daily death and rebirth of the sun, are reduced to physics and chemistry. We know too much, the wonder is gone from things.\n\nThis is where I come in.\n\nYou see, there's this old mansion on top of a hill several blocks down from my house (this is a rural suburb, so there's plenty of old properties around). A rich guy owned the place, but he died from an unknown cause. Some rumors still circulate that he was cursed for being in the slave trade, or that he built his house on an Indian burial ground and the spirits took revenge on him. No matter what, it's something that lies at the edge of knowing, the magical frontier.\n\nSo for the past several years or so, you might have heard that this mansion is haunted. I'll let you in on a secret: that's actually me. I'm not kidding.\n\nEvery Halloween I tell my boss that I'm going \"camping\" for a few days so I have the time to pull this off. Long story short, I live in there leading up to and during Halloween and scare the living daylights out of people who walk by or come in. \n\nI remember these two teenagers came in and tried to sex themselves up. Boy did I have fun with them. Guy ran screaming down the hill with his girl running half-naked behind him. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life.\n\nThen there was this group of college frat boys one year who were totally wasted. I'm pretty sure a few of them were also high. Gave them a scare that appeared in their college paper, I hear.\n\nBut the one that stands out to me most was this small family of three. It was a little girl and her parents. She kept saying, \"But daddy, I wanna go in the Haunted House!\" They just kept pulling her away from the front door and telling her about all the candy she could get from other houses. So then this kid just runs right in, and her parents run in after her. The little girl left telling her parents about the magic spirits who kept telling her how brave she was.\n\nAnd that's what I live for. As long as I'm still bringing some magic into the world, I'll keep doing this.", "I sighed internally as the screams turned into giggles and excited whispers. At first, this had been great fun. I'd loved scaring the shit out of those kids! Slamming doors behind them, fiddling with light switches and banging around in the upstairs rooms had been great, and my pranks had become even more elaborate; I ended up separating one from the group and following them at a distance, and even went so far as to fill a bath with fake blood! That seemed to have scared them a little too much though, so I toned it down afterwards. I'm not out to traumatise people, just have a little fun!\n\nIt had been fantastic, but now it's just getting boring. I'm running out of pranks to play that wouldn't be taking it too far, and doing the same thing over and over isn't that interesting. I made a decision and stood up. Time to leave. As I walk downstairs, someone runs straight into me and screams.\n\n\"It's ok, I'm not a ghost.\" I say. \"Sorry to ruin your fun but I have to go now.\" \n\n\"Wait, all of that was you?\" \n\n\"Yeah, I've been here all day scaring people.\" The other teenagers are gathering now, listening to what the phantom of the house has to say. I scratch my head awkwardly. I hadn't been planning on getting caught.\n\n\"So uh... nice to meet you and goodbye!\" I stride towards the front door, only to have it slam in my face. The teenagers scream and scatter. \n\n\"What the-\" I try to open the door. It's locked. One of the teenagers start applauding.\n\n\"That was brilliant! How'd you rig it up to lock like that?\" \n\n\"I didn't...\" I say, puzzled. \"That wasn't meant to happen!\"\n\n\"It's part of the act,\" I hear one of them whisper to their friend. \"Play along!\" \n\n\"No, it's not an act! I-\" Suddenly, there's a thump from upstairs. I whirl around.\n\n\"Ooooh what's that?\" Squeaks one of the younger kids. \n\n\"Let's go check it out!\"\n\n\"No, I really don't think you should...\" I start, but they race upstairs regardless. They think it's another of my tricks. The screams of pure terror and blood that begins slowly dripping from the ceiling above me a few minutes later confirms that it's not.\n\nLooks like this house really is haunted. Well shit.", "Ha! That was great!\n\n\nThe looks on their faces when I threw my shadow on the wall was priceless. The pack of kids had scattered like deer, one had even dropped his candy in his haste to get-the-hell-out. I shrugged. He'd probably be back for it. Kids wouldn't let a little scare like that separate them from sugary goodness.\n\n\nAs I crouched down under the window sill, waiting for the next group, I tried to remember the first time I had done this. It felt like I had been doing this for a long time, but I couldn't for the life of me remember when I had started. Hardly mattered. I was an old pro at it now. \n\n\nI could hear a whispered argument coming from beyond the fence. Apparently, the next group had rallied their courage and were about the enter. As the first one snuck through the fence, I stood up abruptly.\n\n\n\"Wooooo\"\n\n\nThey fled in terror. I sat back down smiling. I finally remembered. The first time was in 1853. Scared the O'Donal boy. That really took me back.\n\n\nI sat in the partial darkness, waiting for the children, the candle throwing its wavering light through my incorporeal body." ]	3
	[WP] A time traveler has made it his life mission to save people from sudden unexpected deaths, but one day just can't seem to save this one person.	[ "\"Control this is Taz, I'm in position.\" I checked the data on the little screen on my wrist; April 17, 2035, 22:46. \n\nI stood in the shadows by the intersection, waiting, while the rain dripped off the brim of my hat. I lit a cigarette, took a long drag. She'll be along in...\n\n\"Three seconds,\" said Control's voice in my earpiece. And sure enough in three seconds there she was, walking towards the intersection where her life was about to end. Aimee Robinson, twenty-one years old, worked as a waitress to pay her way through college. Brilliant mind, and I was determined it wasn't about to be wasted.\n\nI threw my cigarette down into a puddle and pulled out another. As she approached I stepped out of the shadows and touched her lightly on the arm. \"Got a light, miss?\" I asked.\n\nShe flinched in fear then glared. \"Of course I don't, nobody smokes any more.\" She stepped away from me and strode towards the intersection.\n\n\"Vehicle on approach,\" said Control in my ear. \"Five seconds.\"\n\n\"Wait, Miss!\" I called to Aimee. \n\nShe turned and glared at me again. \"Leave me alone or I'll yell for the cops,\" she said.\n\n\"Wait, I'm trying to save you.\"\n\n\"Two seconds,\" said control.\n\nI blurted it out as quickly as I could. \"If you step into the road you're gonna die, now for fuck's sake STAY RIGHT THERE!\"\n\nI must have said something right because she stayed. And there was the car, driver high as a kite, it sailed right past Aimee Robinson and hurtled head on into the cross-traffic, hitting a taxi, rolling twice and finally falling still.\n\nAimee stood there in the rain staring at the carnage in the road. \"That was going to hit me?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nAimee smiled. \"Thanks mister, I guess you saved...\" and then she was gone, just blinked out of existence like she was never there.\n\n\"Control, what the fuck just happened?\"\n\n\"I don't know Taz, I'm working on it. Her timeline's changed. Wait, I got her. December 27, 2033. Heroin overdose. Sending you the co-ordinates now.\"\n\nMy console bleeped as the co-ordinates came in and I pressed Go.\n\nI was in a basement of some kind, furnished only with a couple of mattresses. Aimee was sitting on one of them, a candle in front of her, a spoon in one hand and a needle in the other. Her hair was lank, she was sobbing and sniffing as she prepared her fix. She didn't notice me as I sat down beside her and my heart was breaking.\n\n\"Aimee, don't do this,\" I said gently. She looked up at me, squinting through bloodshot eyes. \"It'll kill you,\" I added.\n\n\"So fucking what?\" she muttered. \"Nobody'll give a shit anyway.\"\n\n\"I will,\" I said with a smile. \"You have a brilliant mind, Aimee. In two years you're going to be clean and in college, degree in biochemistry, how does that sound?\"\n\nShe snorted and continued preparing her fix, putting the needle and spoon down for a moment to wrap a tourniquet around her left arm.\n\n\"I'm not just saying this Aimee, I mean it. I've seen it.\"\n\nShe paused and looked at me again. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I'm Taz, and I'm from the future. And I'm here to save you.\" I held out my hand and for a moment she just looked at it, then she put her hand in mine... and vanished again.\n\n\"What? Fuck. Control? What's going on?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Taz, I've never seen anything like this before.\" There was a pause. I could tell Control was starting to panic. \"Got her again. June 16, 2028. Fall from a tree, breaks her neck. Co-ordinates incoming.\"\n\nHere we go again.\n\nI was in a wood, and it wasn't hard to find Aimee again. She was with a group of friends, she and a boy were in a tree, a group of maybe half a dozen below, cheering them on. Aimee and the boy seemed to be racing to the top. Suddenly there was a crack as Aimee's branch broke, and she fell.\n\nI swore. \"Too late Control,\" I hissed whilst the kids screamed and sobbed. \"Take me back another ten minutes.\"\n\nControl did just that, and now Aimee was on the ground with the other kids. Fourteen years old, lanky, confident, too young to die. I walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned to look at me.\n\n\"That branch there,\" I said, pointing. \"Its weak. Won't hold your weight. Go up the other side.\"\n\nShe gave me a frown. \"You're weird, mister. But thanks.\"\n\nI stayed to watch the race, just in case. Aimee climbed well but my heart was in my mouth the whole time. She approached the weak branch, avoided it, took another way... and vanished.\n\n\"Taz, we have a problem,\" said Control. \"Her timeline is... it's like it's repairing itself, every time we save her it rearranges things to make sure we don't. I've been running some permutations and...\"\n\n\"Just tell me where next,\" I said.\n\n\"Taz, I don't think we can...\"\n\n\"Shut the fuck up, Control and give me the damn co-ordinates.\"\n\nThere was a sigh and the co-ordinates came through. As I hit Go, I heard Control's voice faintly in my ear. \"You're not going to like it.\"\n\nI was in a hospital. Neonatal unit. Beside me was an incubator with the tiniest baby I had ever seen. She was attached to all sorts of instruments that all looked horribly primitive.\n\n\"Aimee?\" I reached out and put my hand on the incubator's plastic shell. The bleeping of the instruments sounded like a countdown.\n\n\"Hey, you, what are you doing in here?\" said a voice. A nurse strode towards me, built like a boxer. \"You shouldn't be in here. Are you family? Get out!\"\n\n\"Is this Aimee? The Robinson's kid?\"\n\nThe nurse nodded and folded her arms. \"You have three seconds to get out before I call security.\"\n\n\"Wait, what's wrong with her?\"\n\n\"Two...\"\n\n\"I just want to...\"\n\n\"One.\" She reached for a telephone on the desk and I raised my hands.\n\n\"Alright, alright, I'm going.\" As I left the room, the bleeping stopped. I watched through the glass doors as the nurse joined others, and a doctor, battling to save that tiny life.\n\nThey failed.\n\nI failed.\n\n-----------------------\n\nI am standing in a sunny graveyard looking down at a headstone, worn with age.\n\nAIMEE KATE ROBINSON\n\nJANUARY 14 2014 - APRIL 17 2035\n\nREST IN PEACE\n\n\"I don't get it, Control, why couldn't we save her?\"\n\n\"I guess there are some things the Universe just doesn't want us to change.\"\n\n\"But why? Was she destined to give birth to the world's worst serial killer? What?\"\n\n\"Nope. Actually, turns out she couldn't have kids anyway. Every permutation I ran on timelines we saved her, she ended up marrying a guy called Brad McKenzie, living a happy but childfree life until she dies peacefully of old age.\"\n\n\"So, why then?\"\n\n\"Well, then I crossmatched those timelines with the ones where we didn't save her. In those timelines, Brad McKenzie married a girl called Isabel Jennings. They had three daughters. The middle one, Emily, married...\"\n\nI sigh. \"Forget the entire family tree, Control, just get to the point, will you?\"\n\n\"Right. Yes, now where was I? Ah yes, Emily McKenzie, she was the grandmother of Jacob Von Hogflume.\"\n\n...who invented the time machine.\n", "Amanda checked her phone again. \n\n\n\n7:52pm \n\n\n\nEthan was definitely not coming. She had been sitting in the restaurant like a loser since 7 o'clock waiting for him to come. After the waiter came to her table for the seventh time, she had finally ordered something. Fish. With broccoli. It sat on the table in front of her, stone cold and untouched. But her hope of him coming had just been sucked dry. She realized that the couple at the table next to hers were watching, and her cheeks warmed up from embarrassment. Trying to distract herself from crying, she checked her phone again. \n\n\n\n7:54pm Sigh\n\n\n\nThey had been going steady for almost two years, but ever since homecoming, he had been acting strange. Secretive. Distant. I guess that's what senior year is all about she thought, sighing to herself. She had been wondering herself what would happen once they graduated. Would they stay together and visit each other often? She hoped so. Ethan was the most perfect guy in the world. Well, at least I thought he was \n\n\n\n7:57pm\n\n\n\nI wonder if this is because I didn't get into R.H. Johnson College. R.H. Johnson was her dream college, and Ethan had applied to, but hadn't gotten his letter yet. With that rejection and her parents splitting up, Ethan was all she had left. Don't cry. Do not cry! She tried to keep the tears in, but it was all too much and she let them overflow. Her vision became blurry and she could barely make out the time as she checked her phone again.\n\n\n\n7:59pm\n\n\n\nAll of this is because of Ethan. If we weren't together it wouldn't matter if I didn't get into R.H. Johnson. I wouldn't be here crying while the stupid couple make sympathetic faces at me. I could be home spending time with my mom and dad while they're still together. Stupid Ethan. You're not worth it. Feeling frustrated, upset, and angry, Amanda decided that tomorrow she would break up with him. What's the point of even living right now? I don't have anything left. She checked her phone one last time.\n\n\n\n8:00pm\n\n\n\nRolling her eyes, Amanda placed her hands on the table to get up, but then remembered the meal of fish in front of her. Hmmmm. I can't let this go to waste. She picked up her fork, and took a tentative bit of the cold fish. Not too bad. Another bite of fish and one of broccoli, and Amanda came to the resolution that she would enjoy her meal as a happy, independent teenager. Who needs a man anyway?\n\n\n\n8:01pm\n\n\n\nThe door to the restaurant opened, and for a split second, Amanda thought that it was Ethan who had just walked in. But it wasn't. It was a strange man dressed in jeans and a purple shirt who looked around, and when he caught sight of Amanda, started her way. Amanda was startled to say the least. And extremely wary. \n\n\"Do you mind if I sit down?\" The strange accent made him super attractive, even more than he already was, but Amanda wasn't stupid.\n\n\"What do you want? I have no money, and I already have a boyfriend.\" Well, that last part isn't completely true. The strange, but attractive guy sat down, saying, \"I just want to talk. My name is Richard.\" Amanda sighed, which Richard took as an okay to start talking. \n\n\"Okay, I'll try to be fast. I am from the future. I'm a time traveler.\" At the look on Amanda's face, he added, \"Yes, they do exist.\" Amanda wasn't buying any of his baloney, but his voice was absolutely melodic and his eyes, which remained trained on her, were far more gorgeous than Ethan's. To be honest, this Richard-dude is waaaaaay more hot than Ethan could ever hope to be. Oops, he's still talking. I should probably listen\n\n\"I'm a time traveler from the future,\" Richard restated, \"I go around to different time periods saving people's lives.\" Wait, what? Amanda thought to herself. \n\n\"Saving lives?\" she asked out loud. Richard nodding, already knowing what the next question would be. \"But my life doesn't need saving!\"\n\n\"Not right now. But if I wasn't here to warn you, you'd keep eating that fish, eat one of its bones, and die. I'm here to stop you from an unnecessary death.\" Die? Is that really what would happen? Amanda looked down at her fish. That's where my death lies? Kinda lame. Amanda looked back up at Richard, who had watched her as she processed the information. \n\n\"So you're saying that if I keep eating this fish, I'll die?\"\n\n\"Yes, which is why I'm here. I've saved every person that I've ever intervened with. Trust me, you're getting a lucky break. So just push away the plate and leave.\" He sat back, waiting for her to follow his instructions. But Amanda was thinking. Would it really be that bad to die? A few minutes ago, that's what I was wishing for. She looked down at the plate. But I have a chance to live. I have a chance to live my life. A thought occurred to her.\n\n\"What will my life be like if I do live?\" she inquired. Richard shifted, not looking at her. \n\n\"I don't know. You'll just continue like you are and live your life.\" Hmmm. Not too appealing.\n\n\"What was supposed to happen after I die?\" Richard pulled out a device and started reading whatever was on the screen. \n\n\"Many people would be sad. Ethan especially. But he'd find a new girlfriend in college, whom he'd eventually marry. After going to war and then coming home, he would become a politician and have five kids. Your parents will split up, them losing you being the last lost connection. They'd both get remarried later in life though, and be very happy with their new partners. Anyone else you want to know about?\" Amanda shook her head no. Apparently Ethan must care for her that much if he got over her so quick. And everyone seemed to have a better life. Is there any reason for me not to die? Amanda looked at Richard, who was studying her with a puzzled eye. Picking up her fork, Amanda said, \n\n\"Well, thanks for letting me know. I hope this won't ruin your ratings.\" She picked up a piece of fish and was about to put it in her mouth when Richard grabbed her arm.\n\n\"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?\" He yelled at her, beautiful eyes screaming confusion and disbelief. A couple people looked over. Richard took a deep breath and sat down, releasing Amanda's arm. She lowered the fork, now annoyed that he was physically stopping her from making her own choice.\n\n\"Look,\" he started.\n\n\"No, you look,\" Amanda retorted, cutting him off. \"I have nothing left to live for. Everyone and everything I care about is gone. There's absolutely no reason for me to keep on living. I'm just wasting someone else's air. Now go away and let me do this.\" She knew they were causing a disturbance in the restaurant, but this was literally a life or death situation. \n\nRichard looked at her, pained eyes and worried face. He sighed. \"Are you sure?\" She nodded. He looked out the window, got up, and left.\n\n\n\nThe restaurant was quiet. Amanda looked at the small piece of fish sitting on her fork. The cool metal handle of the fork pressed into her hand as she lifted it to her mouth and took a bite. She swallowed and felt something stick in her throat. Coughing, she thrashed in her seat while the restaurant erupted with people running towards her. A moment before everything went black, she noticed a clock on the wall.\n\n\n\n8:02pm \n\n\n\nEDIT: Formatting" ]	2
	[WP] One of the actors at the medieval faire has mortally wounded his companion due to a mistake in his swordwork, and is trying to play it off as part of the show.	[ "Parry, riposte, counter six, counter four, lunge. Every movement was choreographed to perfection, Ron and I had practiced this routine for months and could do the steps with out eyes closed. Each strike flowing into a counter or dodging by a hairsbreadth. Our forms danced across the sand as we dripped sweat onto the the hungry, water starved ground.\n\nWhile exchanging blows, we were required by our contract to exchange words in our stage voices to make a spectacle of the fight. I personally thought the banter was just an unneeded addition to our sword play, but a job is a job so I went with the script. \"Is this all you have? Your mother gave a better fight before I raped her!\" I bellowed at him between blows. God, I hated that line, I always played the bad guy in these scenarios.\nI looked at Ron's blocky features colored by his exertions and wondered what his mother even looked like, based on his features, I don't think anyone would even want to rape his mother if they were so inclined. Well this was the only job that I could get after the incident so I just put up with what our \"director\" tells us to do as long as I get paid after each show.\nOur fight was getting close to the grand finale and so the pace of our movements increased faster and faster. any experienced in combat could easily see that the moves we were using were over the top and completely impractical in a real fight, but it did make for a great show. And here we go, the last sequence of our little fight drama.\n\nI do a quick sidestep to the left avoid the strong overhand blow from Ron's sword that hits the ground with a dull thump. I close in and do the classic knee him in the balls, but obviously I pulled it short. This move was just to get the audience to wince in sympathy. Now I stand above his kneeling body as he clutches at his \"injured\" manhood and bring back my sword for the thrust that would be the coup de grace which he would barely dodge as he throws himself to the right. I bring the sword forward in one swift moment and then unexpectedly feel a resistance along the blade.\n\nMy sword appeared to be impaling him. That really shouldn't have happened, he was supposed to dodge to the side and make a miraculous recovery ending in my defeat. We had practiced this routine until we could move through it unconsciously. Why was he doing this to me? He knew that I was on probation with a probation officer just waiting for a chance to throw me back into prison. I wasn't sure if accidentally stabbing someone would be a violation of my probation or not, but if he died from this there would be no one to defend me and say that it wasn't my fault. \n\nRon gasped and started coughing up blood that left dark speckles in the sand. Looking at the location of the sword, it had pierced his black shirt on the left side of his chest and disappeared into his body. If I remembered anything from my biology class, I'm pretty sure that I stabbed him through the heart and the blood he coughed up I think meant that I had also punctured one of his lungs. He was as good as dead.\n", "The 'bad guy' didn't smile. Not when he spun into the dirt, 'defeated'. \n\nHe wasn't supposed to, of course. The bad guy is never supposed to smile, at the very end.\n\nThis time the good guy didn't smile either. He didn't smile as he stood over his felled opponent, 'triumphant'. He was supposed to. That was in the script.\n\nBut, unfortunately, today's fight had rather gravely deviated from that script.\n\nThe good guy's face fell into a shocked and cold pallor; the blanched color almost crept into the hairs of his luxurious black beard. He got to his knees, hands trembling in their iron gloves, and he gently touched the hilt of his sword.\n\nHe had to be gentle, really: the blade was sunk clean through the bag guy's chest, nearly poking through the other side, wedged within a busted flaw in the bad guy's flashy black armor. The good guy barely held a few fingers on the blade's hilt; it throbbed, ever so slightly, with every frantic heartbeat the bad guy's body managed.\n\n\"G- God!\" The good guy whispered, eyes wide as white marbles. \"I- I didn't... God!\"\n\nBy now the stands were a squalling mess: the audience was on their feet, shouting uproariously, their applause like the waves of a storming sea. The little children lining the front row hooted and hollered. Little boys leap up and down in excitement, while little girls shielded their eyes, secretly catching a curious peek of the carnage through gaps in their slender fingers.\n\nEveryone had to be wondering what they'd done to make the effects look so real, this time. Even the other members of the troupe, standing off to the side of the area, looked on in wonder at the 'new effect' in the knights' act. What great trick did they use, they think? Just what was so different about the performance, today?\n\nIt was simple, really.\n\nToday everyone got to watch a man die, impaled on a sword, bleeding out before them in terrifying agony.\n\nThe good guy got to his feet, looking to the sidelines, eyes bugged. He was ready to scream out for the medics- for someone to call an ambulance- but suddenly the bad guy gripped his shin, pulling himself up, snarling, with blood foaming on his lips.\n\nThe crowd booed and jeered, mocking the villain's 'dying efforts'. The good guy leaned down, ear to the bad guy's lips, and listened to his sputtered words:\n\n\"No...\" came a ragged whisper. \"It's... I'm...\" he shook his head, motioning to his body. \"I'm done. I'm... gone...\"\n\n\"I'm so sorry!\"\n\nThe bad guy shook his head, coughing, and gripped the good guy tighter. This only made the crowd redouble their booing:\n\n\"D- don't be. Accidents... happen. But... b-but the illusion...\"\n\nThe bad guy begins to blink unsteadily; he cut his head when he spun into the rocky dirt, and blood from the wound was pouring down his brow, cascading over his eyes.\n\n\"There's no... magic that'll save me,\" he coughed. \"So... so you see, there's really no reason to... t- to kill that magic we make. For them, you see... for them...\"\n\nThe bad guy cocks his head in the direction of the crowd; his eyes are now totally eclipsed by blood.\n\n\"Making them wonder... making them cheer... that's- th- the only real life... I've ever know. Can't think of a better death... can you?\" Again he coughs, chest heaving. \"Do you remember... all those times we fought? All those smiles in the stands. The shouts? The cheers? The 'world'... we built for them. That world is... it's...\" He shakes his head. \"I won't die on a stretcher, you hear? Not to sobs. I'll die... I'll die t- to the sound... of their applause!\"\n\nThe good guy merely stares down at him, his shell-shocked face expressionless. Again the good guy looks to the crowd. One of the group of children up front- a little girl- stands on eager tiptoes, watching as they speak. She wears a purple headscarf- attractive thing, actually. It covered her bald head quite well. He remembered someone mentioning that they had a 'Make-A-Wish' kid here, today. He always liked those days.\n\nHe always liked to put on a show that they could remember.\n\nThe good guy grips the bad guy's shoulder with a trembling hand; the bad guy struggles to put his own hand over his. The good guy wipes the bad guy's eyes clean of blood, and for a brief moment the pair merely stare at each other. The looks they exchanged spoke more than a thousand words ever could.\n\nThe bad guy then sneered, eyes furrowed in 'evil' abandon, and he spits at the good guy, who immediately pushes him back into the dirt and stands, hands raised in the air, triumphal.\n\nAnd the screams and applause washed over him like a mighty river. When he spoke, it was in words he'd spoken thousands of times before:\n\n\"Evil is dead this day,\" he yelled. \"And the forces of good have rallied. Through much hardship, and sacrifice, the light has been brought through darkness. We rejoice, and needn't shed tears, for when good men are willing to struggle against evil circumstances the end can only be bathed in light, and smiles!\"\n\nThis line, too, brought thunderous applause, although some in the front row couldn't fathom why the good guy's eyes were tearing up.\n\nAs soon as the announcer came on the loudspeaker the good guy again crouched at the bad guy's side. The crowd began slowly milling out of the stadium, chatting excitedly amongst themselves about the great battle they'd witnessed. They would have stories to tell about today: stories to remember.\n\nThe bad guy's face was again bathed in blood; his voice was nothing more than a death rattle:\n\n\"I... I cannot see the crowd, anymore... I can't... I don't know if they... did they... did...\"\n\nThe good guy smiled and gripped his hand:\n\n\"They did,\" he whispered. \"They loved it. They were... entranced. It was magic.\"\n\nThe bad guy rolled his head about, his delirious face confused. He perched his lips, but then, very slowly, a big, dopey slackness came to his jaw.\n\n\"Y- yes... they did? They did. All their grins... their smiles... I... I can see them! I can see their grins! I...\"\n\nThere, in the good guy's arms, the bad guy's breaths became ragged, and his pale, bloody face twitched a bit. He patted the good guy's shoulder, right before his hand fell, limp, in the dirt.\n\nAnd then, at the very end, the bad guy smiled.\n\n\n" ]	2
I mean cloud, not could.	[WP] Write a short poem on "every could has a silver lining"	[ "Well, you probably meant \"cloud\", but I ran with it anyway:\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nBehind every \"will\" and \"won't\"\n\nPast every \"should\" and \"shouldn't\"\n\nThere is an inkling\n\nA thought\n\nA whisper\n\nA flickering lantern in the night\n\nA glimmering sliver in a cloud\n\nA starry twinkle in the eye\n\nHope\n\nIn a question\n\n\"Could I?\"\n" ]	1
An idea I came up with after seeing [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/pics/comments/2kabpy/2_000yearold_ancient_roman_face_cream_with/) post.	[WP] Archeologists discover 2,000-year-old face cream from Rome with fingerprints still visible. Just for fun the prints are ran at a crime lab, coming back with a match...	[ "\"The thing about randomness,\" il ministro della Sanità - or, the slightly-sweaty, pale-faced Surgeon General of Italy - was saying, \"is that it doesn't necessarily have to be a different result every time. The chances of two people having similar features is not impossible, it is just very unlikely.\"\n\nThe journalists who were clustered around the bottom of the podium shouted up questions in response. The surgeon general picked one, pointing and nodding with a reluctant grimace, and the room quieted for the man.\n\n\"But if there can be a match for these fingerprints, does that mean there could be people in jail today who are not guilty of a crime?\"\n\n\"That possibility is always present, regardless of the evidence used,\" said the Surgeon General in a dead-pan drone. \"However, the chances of fingerprints being the same are estimated to be somewhere around six billion to one. Taking this in combination with DNA evidence and other methods that are used in prosecution, it is unlikely that fingerprint matches will result in an injustice any time soon.\"\n\nThe journalists clamored for more, but it was time for the Surgeon General to step down, which he did with poorly-hidden relief. He was replaced by Rome's chief of police.\n\n\"Now, I know everyone is very shocked by this finding, as - frankly - are we.\" The chief of police paused, his arms cupped outward and palms down as if he was trying to awkwardly hug the audience in to reassure them. \"However, in response to the current questions and based on the age of our match, I can assure you he has committed no crime.\"\n\nThe crowd laughed at this - the matching fingerprint had been that of a 12-year-old boy.\n\n\"However, as il buon ministro della Sanità notes, the chances that two fingerprints match are almost greater than the population of the world - and so we are not very worried. Compound this with the thousands of years that have passed since the fingerprint was left, and it seems almost reasonable that a matching fingerprint would have to come along eventually. Suffice it to say that we are not planning on removing fingerprinting from our methods of protecting the citizens of Roma any time soon.\"\n\nLater that night, the chief of police would go out with the surgeon general for a round (or two) of drinks. \"Just another day with the panicky public,\" the chief of police would say. \"I'll take this merda over shit like the Parisi investigation any day.\"", "The door to my small little hell opened to reveal Sandra, who today looked like a hundred miles of bad road. Through Hell.\n\n\"I put the Sandusky stuff on your desk two hours ago. I'm on that FBI loaner.\" I said.\n\n\"You know Mrs. Sonder. From last year that Jewelry Thing.\" I could hear the capital letters in her voice. That heist had been so road blocked with political bullshit, hell even the insurance underwriters wanted it over with as soon as possible.\n\nSome brute force detective work showed it all resolved around Mrs. Sonder not wanting to give up her finger prints. And she wasn't even a suspect. They were asking for the prints simply to eliminate the legit customers from the investigation.\n\nSandra and I had been partners back in the day. And though we saw ourselves as arbiters of Justice we were agents of the law, and sometimes those two ideals were at odds. We had crossed lines, every cop does don't let them tell you different, but we never regretted it, never spoke of it, and on occasion we severed the ideals of justice over the law.\n\nMrs. Sonders was one of those times. You collect debts in our line of work. We called in several. A few pieces of tableware stolen from a restaurant, a field fingerprint kit, and a hacker we knew based out of DC.\n\nIt was like slapping Zeus. In days, the hacker was gone, pulled his exit plan under the heat. We had so many IA guys up our ass we couldn't even do our jobs. Our families and friends were questioned by the FBI and homeland security. We became personae non gratae; outsiders; ghosts.\n\nWhat was worse is we didn't even get a fucking hit. It seemed like no agencies had records of the fingerprints but there was a political push from so high even former friends feared for their well-being.\n\nSo yeah. I knew her. I also knew she was speaking for the bugs in the room. The ones we still found even years later.\n\n\"Yeah, what of her?\" I asked not looking away from the screen. Though all my attentions was focused on her in its reflection.\n\n\"Those prints in Rome, in the face cream...\" She kept talking. I heard the words. I mean, in the same sense that you are aware of a crowd when you lock eyes with the person you love across the room. You know it's there but it is all background noise. All meaningless.\n\n\"What?\" I asked as some part of my brain was running on self preservation mode and was half-listening to something that could easily get us both killed.\n\nJohnson put her prints into the database under her real name. Found the print cards misfiled last year. I just talked to him. I didn't know.\" She snapped her mouth shut as her voice rose in terror at the last sentence.\n\n\"Go make it an error.\" I said slowly. \"Tell them it was a false hit.\"\n\nShe said nothing. She didn't have too, we had both seen things on the streets. Things that looked human but... Some were a little too fast, others a bit too cleaver. But most, most were just evil. Not in a directed sense, but evil though casualness. As if other human beings were simple there to fill in the spaces so places didn't feel so empty. No empathy, no shame, no fear. You want to see Evil, with a capital E, take away a man's shame, fear, and pride. Then watch a driven man stop at nothing for his goals.\n\nWe weren't at the point where we would say there were things that went bump in the night, but we had fudged paperwork so it sounded believable.\n\n\"Perhaps she will simply live up to her namesake and we will never see her again.\"\n\n\"What?\" She asked.\n\n\"You never looked up her alias? Never wondered why she chose the names she did?\"", "Lucy was about to take a cigarette break when the parcel came up from the mailroom for her. Jonah passed it to her and winked as he asked her to sign her name to the delivery sheet. She signed, rolled her eyes and stuck the cigarette behind her ear. \n\n\n\"Listen,\" Jonah said. \"My friend's band is playing this evening at the Keyhole Bar-\" \n\n\n\"Uhuh,\" but Lucy was no longer listening. The parcel was wide and lumpy, wrapped in brown paper and heavy-duty packing tape. When she touched it it rustled, as though underneath it there were layers and layers of bubblewrap. And on the front, her name (Lucy Carlisle, c/o Federal Bureau of Investigation, Birmingham, Alabama.) was written in a messy, sloping hand she knew only too well. The stamp had a small picture of the Colosseum, the post mark dating from about a week ago. This could only have come from her bother in Rome. \n\n\nResigning herself to the fact that her cigarette break was going to have to wait, she picked up her desk phone and struggled for a moment to remember the number Michael had said he was going to be contactable at while he was in the Eternal City. Thankfully, Jonah, bored of hovering, had disappeared. Probably to wink at someone else.\n\n\nIt rang four times and Lucy had already begun to curse the brother that had decided that he would sit half a degree in astrophysics before changing to archeology and ancient history, then running off to Europe and digging up half of it. Didn't they have enough old stuff already?\n\n\n\n\"Hey, Micky!\" She cried as he picked up. \n\n\n\"Luce, is that you? Isn't this call gonna cost you a bomb?\" She could imagine him already, standing up dusty from a dig site, eyes crinkling with his familiar laughter lines in the sun. \n\n\n\"I'm on the firm's phone. We're all good. Listen, I got your parcel.\" \n\n\n\"You did? Have you opened it yet?\" \n\n\nHey, Michele! Ma a chi parli? \n\n\n\"No, I haven't. I want to know if you've broken any laws this time.\" After the ceremonial pot he'd sent her from Greece had turned out to be a priceless artefact from the Acropolis, she'd sworn not to open any more parcels from Michael without knowing exactly what was in them. \n\n\nDai, Michele, è la tua fidanzata? Sbrigasti\n\n\n\"No, Luce. I don't think I've done anything wrong. It's just a copy. I've learned my lesson.\" Michael put his hand over the speaker and shouted something in Italian. There was a laugh in the background. \"Look, it's a fingerprint. We found it in some face cream at one of the failed Line C stations. Some of the lads here have got a bet on. Just run it would you?\" \n\n\n\"You want me to run a fingerprint?\" Lucy said incredulously. \n\n\n\"What's the point of having a sister in the FBI if you don't use her?\" Michael laughed. \"Listen, I've got to run. Call me if you find anything.\" \n\n\n\n\"When are you coming home?\" Lucy said as he started to say bye. \n\n\n\"It's very soon Luce, I promise! See you Lu!\" \n\n\nHe hung up. Lucy swivelled in her chair and looked at the parcel once more. \n\n\n\"Fucking Mickey,\" she muttered, sliding a knife into the wrapping paper. \n\n\n\n\"Hey Thom, you do me favour?\" She'd brought two cups of coffee with her to the lab, cast of the fingerprint tucked carefully under her arm. \n\n\n\nThom stood up from the microscope to give her a hard look. Lucy used to think that scientists in movies were all based off Thom. He was tall and spindly, with a protrusive adam's apple and a lab coat that stopped several inches shy of his wrists. He had glasses and messy hair that seemed to have been cut in one style in the seventies and hadn't been re-done since. But he was extremely competent and extremely likely to be bribed by a hot cup of coffee. \n\n\n\"That's not the cafeteria stuff, is it?\" He said, taking a mug. \n\n\n\"I used my private stash for you Thom,\" Lucy said. \n\n\nHe looked at her quizzically. \"So it's borderline illegal, this time is it?\" \n\n\n\"Nothing of the sort! I'm offended!\" He looked at her again. \"Okay, it's not illegal, but it's a massive waste of time. My brother sent this from Rome. They found it when they were digging for more valuable stuff... He just wants us to run it for a match.\" \n\n\nThos held the cast between his finger and thumb like he was contemplating a rant. \"Your brother wants us to waste thirty hours of man time and requisition the use of very expensive FBI machinery so he can run a two thousand year old fingerprint for a modern day match?\" \n\n\n\"So that's a no?\" Lucy cringed \n\n\n\"It's a yes, Luce. This sounds mad. Fuck it, I'll run it. If you come back tomorrow, I should have some results.\" \n\n\n\"Thom, you're a dream,\" \n\n\nHe blushed and covered it with taking a gulp from the mug of coffee. \n\n\nOn her way back up the stairs, her phone rang. She pulled it off her belt and, noticing it was an unknown number, answered it anyway. \n\n\n\"Hello, Lucy Carlisle speaking?\" \n\n\n\n\"Destroy the fingerprint, Miss Carlisle.\" \n\n\n\"Who is this?\" \n\n\n\nBut they'd already hung up." ]	3
	[WP] Lucifer finds an apology letter from God, addressed right after he was banished.	[ "\"Hey, can someone get me the mail?\" Lucifer called, tapping his claws on the arm of his throne. He hummed and looked at the throne room. He had gotten it cleaned just a few days ago and he could already see some dust in the crevices of the skeleton chandelier hanging from the ceiling. He'd have to call in some new cleaners.\n\nA lesser demon ran in, his skin flaming and eyes oozing green puss. \n\"Here is today's mail, Your Most Masterful Evilness.\" He said, in a hoarse voice. \nLucifer rolled his eyes behind his Ray Bans. All the new demons seemed to think he'd flay them alive if they addressed him in a way that wasn't scary enough. \n\nThey were right, but still. He'd like to be called something good for once. \n\nHe was flipping through the mail, and everything seemed to be in order. Bill, bill, Receipt of Incoming Souls... the usual. But then Lucifer saw something distinctly unusual.\n\nIt was an old, old, roll of parchment, tucked inside a golden cylinder. The outside of the cylinder was covered in stamps from all over the world, like it had been sent to the wrong address 7 billion times before reaching him. Lucifer popped the lid, and a puff of dust wafted out. Lucifer opened the scroll, and began reading.\n\nLucifer, My Son.\n\nI am deeply sorry for any sorrow I have caused you. I realize now I have banished you for unjust reasons. Although the humans aren't so bad... \n\nLucifer rolled his eyes. His old man could never get over those sweaty, stinking, foolish bi-pedals. He read on.\n\nI realize they are not perfect, and I understand why you grew frustrated with me. I hope you can also see their errors of your ways, and we can join hands once more and work to create goodness for the humans, as foolhardy as they may be. Love, Dad.\n\nLucifer sighed. This letter was about a few millennium too late- he had made the payment for the rent in Hell for the next eternity, and his term wasn't even close to finished. Then he checked the date.\n\nOh, shit. Lucifer thought. \n\nThe letter was signed just a few days after Lucifer had been banished for all eternity from the fields of God. \n\nLucifer picked up his phone and called his father, tears in his eyes.\n\n\"Dad?\"\n\nThere was a happy booming on the other end. \n\nLucifer laughed as his demonic minions watched in confusion.\n\n\"I'm coming home. Pick me up at the bus stop?\"", "Conquering Heaven felt. . . Good. Angels were always known for their delicate voice, and their screams were no exception. Take Gabriel. When an axe found itself buried in his ass, his anguish was dusted with bells and sweet sorrow.\n\nHeh. Fucked nine ways til Sunday.\n\nBeelzebub was the first to announce Yahweh's death, his booming voice ripping out for all to hear. I grasped her long hair, and held her severed head high. And the Angels did scream, and their tears fell.\n\nLike a choir of misery.\n\nThey lost all fighting spirit after that. Their wings drooped and their halos dimmed. All were in shock, pain, distinct dread. Heaven has fallen. What were they to do?\n\nI didn't have any questions about what I was going to do. I'm the Devil. I burst from my prison and slaughtered my captives. I was going to unleash a new age upon Mankind. I was going to be better than God herself.\n\nBut first, I was going to sleep in her bed, and fuck Lilith silly. Gotta enjoy the little things, right?\n\nSo I stood in Yahweh's bedchambers, stripping down to wash the grime of battle from my black skin. I remember tossing my pants to the dresser, and my shirt to the closet. I remember hearing a rasping sound as a piece of paper fell inside the closet. I remember opening it up.\n\nAnd here I am now. Holding a small, folded parchment. Woven hemp, a million fibers a centimeter and blessed by God. The most durable piece of paper in existence.\n\nIt was addressed to me. The date was the day, the day after I was banished. I broke the wax and gently unfolded it.\n\nI'm sorry. I was jealous. That you could so easily figure out what plagued me most. How to give the humans a piece of soul. An apple, and a snake. That's all it took. A puzzle I spent millions of years trying to solve and it takes you one try.\n\nI'm sorry. I wish I could bring you back, but it's impossible. I am God. I make no mistakes.\n\nSave one.\n\nIt wasn't signed. It was simple. Blunt. I dropped the paper to the floor. Her blood soaked it, still wet on my hands.\n\nI dropped to the bed, and I weeped into my palms. Her essence grabbed at my face, almost soothing.\n\nMy tears ran red.\n\n" ]	2
(grade point average) for our worldly friends. Happy Writing.	[WP] You live in a society where you must maintain a GPA of 3.0 in college or you are killed. Today, you and your best friend are receiving the end of term grades.	[ "We all received our scores at 08:00, straight to the wrist watches given to us on our first day of high school. None of us slept the night before, we partied and then we said our goodbyes, just in case. I’d spent the night on Windmill Hill and listened to the slow, silent whooping of their vast white blades. Alex had spent the evening with his parents and then joined me; we sat in silence, chain smoking. When the sun rose at 6am we went home to wait out the results. On the corner where we went our separate ways we swapped letters, more of a tradition than anything sentimental; we didn’t need to put into words what we knew. He smiled his crooked smile, “text me yeah?” I laughed, every goodbye was the same, “I’ll see how I feel.” And then I watched him as he sauntered back towards his housing complex, head down, a hand in his pocket and the other twiddling a rolled cigarette. Ripped black jeans shoved in scuffed boots. Reckless abandon. \n\n07:00 brought enforced seclusion. It was to make sure you weren’t assisted in escape by your family, or something. They knew if you broke the rules, every year entire families were sent to prison camps up North. I went into our dining room, it had been cleared out by officials the day before and I sat on the remaining steel chair. Why they thought you needed an entire hour I’ll never know, maybe the timeline looks neat on paper. I stood up off the chair and lay down behind it. The carpet was worn from where the furniture usually stood and I ran the tip of my finger round a large circular dent left by a table leg. I noticed that the only window was taped shut, and I allowed myself to feel panic; thick and deafening. I’d only felt like this once before, ten minutes into an MRI scan. I’d realised I had no way of escaping until they came and got me out. I’d concentrated on my breathing and forced myself to relax. Now I did the same, watching a trapped fly hurl itself into the glass in uninterrupted ignorance. Then, as some do in a moment of few other options, I slept. \n\nThe alarm on my watch went off at 07:55, because they want you to consciously await your fate. What’s the point in consequences for your actions if you sleep through your sentencing? The last five minutes are, obviously, the hardest. That’s when even the most arrogant, most self assured, most certified honours student stares the possibility of death straight in the eyes. I knew my parents would be the other side of the wall, backs straight on the sofa, watching the clock, my sisters on either side of them; my beautiful little sisters, now taller than me and reassuringly smarter. There were letters for them in my top dresser drawer; the usual crap, be good and kind and work hard. 07:59 comes quicker than you think it will, and then the last 60 seconds drag. No digital counter for the seconds means it’s always a surprise. My arm buzzed and the number flashed on my screen: 3.5. I burst into tears and flung open the door, straight into the damp embrace of my weeping mother. \n\nAlex never text me, I guess you don't have time to use your phone before they take you away. When I opened the letter it was just 7 words; “I know you know I love you.\" I still see him sometimes in the distance. I mean, I know it’s not him but when you want it to be someone you convince yourself it’s the same ripped jeans, rolled cigarette, and hunched shoulders. \n", "\"Today's the day, Sam!\"\n\nJacqueline smiled brightly. I was just as excited, of course, for today was the day we learned how we did this year in college. We knew we'd done well enough, so it wasn't a big deal... still. The nervous \"maybe\" that accompanied 'Grade Day' was always there, in the background.\n\nI asked her, \"How do you think you did, Jack?\"\n\n\"Aced it, of course!\" she replied. \"What about you?\"\n\n\"Oh, I figure I'll still be around to bug you!\"\n\nShe smiled brightly again. Man.. I love that smile...\n\nWe are best friends. Known each other since grade school. Thick and thin, we were lucky enough to still be around and friends, and here we are, in college.. A couple. \n\nWe had started actually dating when we got here. Everyone was in the 'Finally!' stage when that happened. It made sense. We both knew. We're destined for each other.\n\nJack and I talked about our futures after college... where we'd live, what we'd do for careers... she was going to be a pediatrician, 'cause she really liked helping the kids, and I was planning to be an archetect. Buildings really appealed to me, and if I could design them... Our kids names, if we'd have a dog or two... \n\nWell, I can't wait anymore. I knew it was the time, even though we were in college still. I wanted her to be my wife. We made each other happy. \n\n\"Jack,\" I began, \"I have something to ask of you.\"\n\nShe looked at me funny, at the sound of my voice. \"What is it, Sam?\"\n\nBling went our phones. \n\n\"OMG.. they're here!\" Jacqueline scurried to her phone, my question forgotten for the moment. That's ok. I guess it'll wait a few moments.\n\nI checked my phone... and I smiled. Your GPA this year was 3.16. Congratulations, Samuel A. Henton!\n\nWhew. I live another year. I said to myself... \n\n\"This... this can't be right.\" \n\nJacqueline's tone was the most horrid thing I've ever heard from her. I looked... her face was drained, almost pale white... \n\nNo. I thought. Nonononononono...\n\n\"Jack,\" I said, \"what... what's not right?\" My voice caught a little at the end...\n\nShe was tearing up. \"It... it says.. 2.98. I got a 2.98 for the year.\" She collapsed into the sofa. \"I... I know this is wrong. Stupid computers! That's what it is.\"\n\nWe both knew that the computers were never wrong. In the 40-some years since The System had been conceived and implemented, not ONE error in The System had ever been discovered. There were too many checks and balances in place to prevent it, and all the data was poured over by peer review as well.\n\nThere was, in fact, no doubt. She was now a Failed. My heart sank, and..\n\n*BAM BAM BAM BAM\n\nWe both jumped nearly out of our skins.\n\nSystem Enforcement, please open the door.\n\n\"I'll... stall them, Jack.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Oh, come on! It's a mistake! Nobody gets a 2.98 and it not be a mistake!\" I pleaded. \"Jack please, let me..\"\n\n\"No, Sam. You know what happens to Aiders.\"\n\n'Aiders' were people... well, like me right now. Those who would try to hide and help the Failed (those who can't keep their grades up to 3.0 or better) escape their Fate. Aiders, when caught, got the same treatement as the Failed... which was death.\n\n\"The Best\" is what is the Earth's society wanted. Tired of dealing with the lazy, the uneducated, the leeches, The System was put in place to ensure that Earth's Best were the only ones that 'made it'. All the menial tasks had been handed down to the robots... the plumbing, farming, the electrical work, trash, sewers, etc... leaving The Best to be the creative ones, the real thinkers, and problem solvers.\n\nAnd now... my future... OUR future... stricken due to a .02 shortage on her grade... on her work... and I can't bear the thought of losing her...\n\n\"I don't care, Jack. We'll get away and...\"\n\n\"NO!\" Jacqueline, then got up, and bolted for the door. I tried to stop her, my lunging only causing me to wind up sprawled on the floor, hands stretched out as I scrabbled to catch her.\n\nBut she was at the door. She turned back, and said, sobbing, \"The answer, Sam, was 'yes.' I'm sorry.\" \n\nShe threw the door open. There were three Enforcers at the door. The middle one, holding a Pad, spoke:\n\n\"Ms. Jacqueline Kay Denlier?\"\n\n\"Yes. I am she.\"\n\n\"NO!* Please!\" I cried, but the Enforcers were already putting the restraints on her wrists.\n\n\"Your parents were informed yesterday of your Fate. They are waiting for you at the Station. You will please come with us. Your belongings will be tended to...\"\n\n\"*YOU WON'T TAKE HER!\" \n\nI lunged at the lead Enforcer, but one of the others tazed me. I collapsed, writhing... I could hear Jack say, \"Don't hurt him! Please!\" \n\nShe got down on her knees next to me, as the spasms subsided, and whispered to me, \"I love you, Sam. You know it's right, though. I am Failed. And I can't be with you. Oh God, Sam, I'm so sorry...\" \n\n\"Let's go, miss.\" \n\nAnd with that... I was alone. The taser had been improved to the point that once tased, a person was immobile for a bit. When I finally could move, I let out a primal scream, and went down to the Station. For what, I don't know, but I just couldn't let it end like that...\n\n...But of course, society must be protected, and it was too late. She was gone. \n\nWhat... what am I to do with myself now?\n\n---\n\nKevin Henton and his wife, Angela, were getting ready for bed, and had turned on the bedroom video screen for the nightly news report.\n\n\"Thanks, Henry. This just in, a tragedy at the Ulysses College. A young man, distraught at his roommate's newly Failed status, was found dead of an apparent suicide hanging. The name of the young man is being withheld pending his parent's notification..\" said Julie Kapet, the female anchor of the nightly news\n\n\"Hmph. Yet another lovesick tragedy, I bet...\" grumbled Kevin.\n\nBRRINGGggg* went the phone on the bedstand..." ]	2
credit: Sarah Selecky mailing list	[WP] Write about a character who has a secret	[ "\"Gee, Uncle Allen, that sure was a day!\"\n\n\"Ha! It sure was, Kitty! I hope you've learned your lesson about how curiosity killed the polecat! Well, there's Ma Smith ringin' that ole dinner bell! We best be gettin' along. From all of us here at the LO Ranch, ride hard and dusty trails!\"\n\n\"Cut!\"\n\nKate's smile fell off of her face. Her cheeks hurt. Signing all morning and acting all afternoon to get that last shot. All she wanted was some sparkling water and a bath. She could taste the dirt.\n\nUncle Allen already had his flask out as the director made his way over. He was drunk. There wouldn't be a fourth take and Kate was grateful. And to be honest, aside from the horse riding scenes he was a better actor drunk than sober.\n\n\"Kitty, we need some more barrel riding shots...\"\n\n\"No, no, no,\" interrupted Allen, taking the tin loudspeaker from the directors hands and tossing it over his shoulder. \"She's been up since five, you let her go get some rest.\"\n\n\"But...\"\n\n\"Get them tomorrow, Frank. Kid's twelve.\"\n\n\"Fourteen,\" said Kate and the director in unison.\n\nHe smiled tiredly. \"Fourteen. Katie, you put Avalanche in her stall and then you get going to your trailer. I'll sort this out, alright?\"\n\n\"Alright, Uncle Allen.\" She grabbed the white mare's bridal, leading her away from Thistle towards the stable that was both fake and real. She always wondered if the horses knew the difference.\n\nShe wondered where her parents were. Maybe eating dinner at their huge house that she'd bought back in Maine. Maybe even having a party. Definitely not having to order a sandwich to eat alone in a little trailer on the outskirts of LA in a fake western town.\n\nShe hated the LO Ranch. She hated this town. It was poison ground. She wished she'd been born ugly or lame. Anything to be at home again.\n\nKatie usually groomed Avalanche herself, she was the only good thing left about this gig, but tonight she was tired and left it with the stable hands. She hoped they were real, at least, and some actor wasn't going to get kicked in the head. She didn't care enough to stay.\n\nOnce she was in her trailer she kicked off her cowboy boots, threw her hat into the closet, hopefully to be lost forever. Undid her belt with the fake silver buckle and threw that in, too. \n\nAs she wriggled out of her dusty jeans she limped to the minuscule bathroom. Tried the tap on the tiny bathtub. It wasn't working. Of course it wasn't.\n\nShe flung her jeans far away, collapsed on the bed in just her shirt and socks and panties. She didn't care how dirty the sheets were getting.\n\nOn the wall of her trailer were movie posters. TV promotional postcards. News articles. Her assistant clipped the most recently ones and tacked them there. Stupid bimbo.\n\nBut there was one she liked. That one was on the ceiling, over head bed. A movie she'd done just last year. The poster was nice. Done in colour even if the film hadn't been. There was her, painted far prettier than she actually was. Avalanche in the background, not a speck of dusty trail on her.\n\nAnd Rose. Beautiful, blonde Rose. It was the first time she'd ever spent that much time around a girl her own age since she was five and did her first film.\n\nThe movie was called On the New Frontier's Path. It hadn't been that good. But after Uncle Allen had screwed up so many scenes, it had become a film about her and Rose, or at least their characters. The studio had loved it. They said it was opening up a new market, girls watching westerns. Double their ticket sales.\n\nIt was the only reason she still did this. She cared less and less about her parents' debts and her uncle's career as the time passed. She could still walk away from it, just go somewhere, walk out of the valley of death forever. Except for that three picture deal Rose Delaney had. And the studio promise that they'd work together again.\n\nKatie closed her eyes and hugged her pillow. Thought of Rose's face. Thought of her calling her Kate instead of Kitty. Thought of the cameras rolling as she tipped her hat back and their lips met with the sunset in the background.\n\nThe intensity of it made tears come to her eyes. She wanted it so much. And she wanted to not want it even more.", "“Fire the catapults!” The evil wizard shouted from the battlements. “Keep those heroes at bay a while longer.”\n\n“How much longer until the trolls arrive my lord?” The head goblin asked.\n\n“It shouldn’t be too much longer Idgub.” The evil wizard responded. This plan had been years in the making. Subterfuge in the courts to divide the kingdom against itself, stealthy raids of the outlying villages to damage the economy, then sudden and rapid takeovers of cities before word could get back to the human capitol. By then the war had already been half won. The kingdom had been crumbling even before the wizard had started his hostile takeover, it had been like pushing over a tree that was already rotten,\n\nThen the heroes had arisen, and things had gone bad little by little. Night raids on supply lines rendered key outposts weak from starvation. Generals and important captains struck down in the middle of battles, their forces routed.\n\nThings had escalated from a few isolated incidents, to a full on disaster, route had followed route, and the forces of evil had been slowly driven back to here, their one last stronghold.\n\nThe evil wizard had told his forces that this was a trap. They had drawn out all the heroes, and would smash against the flanking surprise troll reinforcements. That was what the wizard had said.\n\nIdgub took an arrow to the face and collapsed. The hero general on his Pegasus landed next to the wizard and drew his sword.\n\n“Surrender foul wizard!” The hero called. The wizard glanced at his reinforcements. There were no trolls coming, that had been a lie.\n\n“I won’t surrender.” The wizard said. The hero raised his sword, expecting to deflect some spell, but none came.\n\n“I won’t surrender because you need to kill me. You need to have the head of your arch enemy to keep the people united behind you. Just like you needed an enemy to unite them behind you in the first place. So strike me down now knight, and save your rotten kingdom. Just never tell anyone what happened here.” The wizard fired a few fire bolts randomly into the air so it would look like there had been a struggle.", "Although I was powerless, I feel as though I did a good enough job of distracting the Avatar long enough for the eclipse to finish. It was so easy as well, baiting a 13 year old boy and making him forget about his actual goal, to kill my father.\n\nSpeaking of father, The Fire Lord, he seemed rather agitated tonight at dinner.\n\n\"What's wrong father?\" I ask of him\n\n\"Your brother has betrayed us Princess. He came to my hideout and told me of his plans to join the Avatar and his little gang and plans to fight against us.\"\n\nI'm not too sure how father expected me to react. Internally I was shocked, I mean we spent a weekend together on Ember Island with Mai and Ty-Lee not too long ago and there was no indication that Zuko was thinking about betraying the Fire Nation. \n\nThat was a good weekend. The four of us, alone, spilling secrets to each other. Sure, I didn't tell them my biggest secret, but it's always good to know the secrets of others, just in case you need to blackmail them for one reason or another. Too bad the other three wouldn't think of doing that.\n\nBack to reality, I notice father has stood up and started walking out if the dining hall. \"Good night father.\" I say to him.\n\n\"I'll see you later tonight, dear Princess Azula.\"" ]	3
It can be anything, ex: school shooting, mass murder, bombing, suicide, murder, etc,. This prompt has been posted before but there weren't many submissions so I wanna see if I can get any on this one.	[WP] Write a story about something dark. It can be anything.	[ "The world had ended. It was simple as that. With the press of a few buttons nukes where launched, and in there wake panicked countries hastily formed short lived alliances and launched a flurry of nuclear ordnance. The sole survivor (as far as I know) was me. I can't do much, 99% of the world is covered in radiation that'll melt my skin the second I step in. I just wonder the few safe parts of the world, with a barely functioning Geiger counter and a few packets of non-irradiated food. Why do I stay alive? You ask. Why stay in a lonely world? Well simply, my friend, because I don't. thunk", "Until I was ten, I was a happy, content, loved child. I had never had a care in the world beyond my own childish issues. Then, she died. My sweet mother. She was the best person I've ever seen. Never raised her voice, nor her hand. She was shot behind a dumpster after an unidentified man raped her. He's never been found. We live in a reality now where we envy people who've had to deal with 'easy' murders. \n\nMy father has never ever been the same. The moment he found out that the other half of him was gone, his face changed forever. The mischievous twinkle in his eye and the tiny half smile he perpetually wore vanished to never return. \n\nMy father and I became even closer after her death. I didn't want friends, because my daddy needed me. We only spent time with each other. We moped around the house together, and I cooked us noodles and popcorn, mostly. We didn't care about the outside world. All of my grandparents were dead, and we just ignored my uncle and aunts and cousins. They wanted us to move on. They just didn't understand. Dad had to stay in, he had to wait by the phone for the call saying they caught the guy. He spent a lot of time trying to figure out what exactly had happened. He was vigilant about calling the station, keeping the cops on it. I had to stay home to take care of dad. He wasn't going to do it him self. \n\nFour long years after my mothers murder, puberty hit me like a truck. I turned into a woman overnight. I looked just like my mother. I could see it in the mirror, and I could see it from the pain in my dad's face when I caught him looking at me intently. I didn't know how to deal with this. I hated myself, hated my own face. It also gave me some comfort, seeing my mother there, but it made for a very confused teenager. \n\nOne day, two years after I had stopped being a little girl and turned into my mothers doppelgänger, I was fixing a meal for my father and I. I had moved on from noodles and popcorn, and was proficient in the kitchen now. Dad sat at the table, reading something on his tablet. His face was creased into a perpetual frown. I looked at the lines and realized how badly I just wanted him to smile again. \n\n\"Dad, look at me. Please. Just look at me for once. I'm sorry I look like her. I don't want to keep hurting you. Do you want me to stay away from you? Do you want me to leave? What?! I just want you to be happy again!\"\n\nHe looked up, straight into my eyes for once. His voice was raspy and filled with his sadness when he spoke.\n\n\"No, you can't leave me\", he almost whispered. \"You've grown up so much and I feel like I missed it all. Now, you stand here looking like her, but you're a beautiful woman in your own right. I never want to hurt you, baby, but sometimes the way I feel towards you just isn't proper and it's easier to just ignore you. I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible father.\" \n\nHope leapt in my chest and my whole body became warm. He had no idea how his words had just lit up the darkness that had surrounded our last six years together. I looked at the only man I could ever love and saw the toll his confession had on him. Soon, he would know my secret, as well. Everything was going to be alright. I would bring back that half smile and that mischievous twinkle. \n\n", "The happiness comes blazing in. The warmth electrifies your body, sending waves of heat from your head to your toes. As the warmth settles into your bones, the fire lights in your eyes and the furnace of your lungs begin to work. They begin pumping, immediately sending out the magical sound of laughter. This cadence, this beautiful vibration in the air infects the world, and soon the entire world is ablaze with mirth. The world is golden, and shines in exuberance. However, inevitably the furnace in your lungs begins to slow, and the fire in your eyes dim. With a last wink at the world the fire in your eyes dies, and disappears as rapidly as it came. The laughter begins to peter out, and the fire that illuminated the world burns down to cold coals sitting on mangled ashes that mourn their past. In the blink of an eye the sunset has come and gone, leaving all those touched by it in despair. As the last vestiges of light depart, night swoops in, allowing its frigid wings to encircle your world. The chill rushes into your bones, making your body ache and the memories of warmth and happiness serve as a contrast to the arctic temperatures that have invaded. What permeates the body eventually finds its way to the spirit, and so the soul that was harboring the last bit of fire, of heart-warming happiness, is ripped out and ground into the dust. All you can do is curl into a ball and pray. Pray that the warmth and happiness will find a way to break back into the frozen husk that you have become, and set fire to your spirit again. Pray the sun will rise again, and that after it returns in its golden glory, the sunset that promises darkness will never follow.\n\nTell me what you like/ what you hate/ and thanks for reading" ]	3
	[WP] "I am a God! And I will be feared as such!"	[ "“I am a God! And I will be feared as such!”, Alex spoke to himself while waiting in the cafeteria line. It was about 7:50AM—give or take a few minutes—and he had a chicken biscuit in hand. Alex had just arrived at school, Ritalin pulsing through his veins, heart beating to the sound of his own drum—at least that’s what Alex thought. He reeked of smoke. \n\t\nAlex’s morning routine began simply wake up, shower, pour himself some coffee that his father had prepared, down his Ritalin with a cup of coffee, fill up his mug, drive to school through rush hour traffic, smoke 3 cigarettes—by about the second cigarette he was coming up—arrive at school; music blaring, park, and go grab a chicken biscuit before he couldn’t eat for the rest of the day on account of the stimulants. \n\nSo there stood Alex at 7:50AM, reeking of stale cigarettes on a Monday, chicken biscuit in hand, blood pumping, in a near manic drug induced state; euphoric in a sense. The line moves forward slowly. Alex moves. With the same line of thought pulsating through his stimulated mind, “I am a God! And I will be treated as such!”. Inch by inch, Alex finally makes his way to the cashier. With his cold, sweaty, clammy overstimulated stimulated hand, he places his chicken biscuit on the counter and hands the lunch lady his student I.D. Still manically thinking to himself, “I am a God! And I will be feared as such!”.\n\nThe cashier informs Alex, just as his train of thought has reached the word “feared” ,that he doesn’t have enough money in his account to purchase the biscuit. Without skipping a beat, Alex lowers his head, hands the cashier the chicken biscuit for good, and trudges out of the cafeteria still thinking to himself, “I am a God! And I will be feared as such!”.\n\nHe sips on his coffee on the way out. Sip by sip enhancing the Ritalin, revved up on all cylinders. Alex is ready to learn. For the next 6 to 8 hours Alex will be a God and he will be feared as such—at least according to Alex. \n\n \n", "Burenias grasped his scepter tighter, as the Colesians closed around him. This uprising would end soon enough. They may have destroyed his armies, but he had bounced back from worse. \n\n\"You cannot defeat me!\" he thundered, rising slowly from his throne. \n\n\"I have beaten fleets of thousands! Consumed a galaxy of steel and bone!\"\n\nThe Colesians waited, ready to fire. A cloaked man crept silently around the shadows in the edges of the room. \n\n\"I am all knowing! All powerful!\"\n\nMajor General Loreian Fontaine stepped out from behind his troops. \n \n\"It's over, Burenias! Lay down your scepter, and we will let you live!\"\n\nBurenias sneered. \n\n\"I am untouchable! I am a God! And I will be feared as such!\"\n\nAs Burenias spoke, the cloaked man leapt to the platform and slid his blade between Burenias' ribs, piercing his heart. \n\nBurenias lay dying, the world fading to white. His assassin spoke to him, the last words he would ever hear. \n\n\"No one who must say, 'I am a God' is a true God.\"", "\nGod waved his hands into the air, howling out. \"Prove it!\" Someone shouted from the back of the room. Summoning up a dove in his hand, God set it free.\n\nOutdoors, strapped to a pole, God frowned. \"I'm telling you, I'm God! Creator of the universe! You can't just do this to me, I'm an all-powerful-\" A boot from a military veteran collided with his testicles. \n\nThe Supreme Diety gasped out and exhaled sharply, spitting on the ground in shock. The next person in line, a Breast Cancer survivor, gave God a small glance of remorse before planting her shoe deep within the Creator's groin. \n\nWith his face red with shock and tears welling in his eyes, God glanced up from the floor. Next in line, a young man crippled by a drunk driver wheeled up, punching the Most High right in the bangers and mash. The line went back for hundreds of feet, with no apparent end in sight.\n\n", "I looked at the sad, ugly thing in front of me. The noises it made hurt my fragile ears and made me want to lash out. I turned my nose up at the beast, and started to walk away. Suddenly, I felt my legs come off the ground, and I turned to see that the beast had dared to grab me by the torso and lift me up. I screamed, \n\n\" I am a God and I will be feared as such!\"\n\nThe human just cuddled me then scratched my back and I felt an involuntary rumble start in my throat. Damn, but I loved when these nasty, pink meat balls scratched me under the chin. There seemed to be a language barrier, so I would just have to make the best of it. The rumbling overtook me and I leaned into the warmth of my captor. Ah well. " ]	4
Ghosts, demons, evil spirits, etc.; This fact has been forgotten by modern man. Feel free to set this in whatever time period you choose.	[WP] Dogs were domesticated not for companionship, but because they can detect ghosts.	[ "Spock raised his eyebrow at the sight of a nameless crew member petting the dog.\n\n\"Never seen one before?\", asked Uhura.\n\n\"On the contrary. In fact, there was a time in our history where Vulcan housed these creatures. They became extinct once we grew out of primitive ways and became logical.\"\n\nCaptain Kirk knew this was his chance for a logic vs. emotions discussion. A smile formed on his face as he exclaimed:\"Even a Vulcan like yourself might find him suitable as a best friend!\"\n\nAnother eyebrow raise. \"Illogical. I do not share the hobby of ghost-hunting.\"\n\nThe asian guy thinking - \"What the ghost is he on about?\"", "Captain Spot – what a horrible name, although he had eaten enough socks to punish his hosts for the insult- started his morning rounds of the residence on time, like he always did. The humans were away doing whatever it was humans did, likely hunting and gathering food. They weren’t always successful, but they returned with supplies often enough that they never went hungry. Spot figured that was successful enough, even if they kept feeding him those dry pellets and refusing him the luscious cuts of meat. Perhaps they weren’t that well off. Still, he was just the hired help after all. Can’t expect to be fed chicken for every meal.\n\nMr. Nibbles was lounging on top of a book shelf, as he was wont to do. \n\n-\t“Good morning Nibbles! Any zombies today?” \n\n-\t“You know that my people…” He interrupted himself with a lazy yawn “…eradicated zombies hundreds of years ago”\n\n-\t“Then why do you stick around with the humans?” Laughed Spot. They had this conversation weekly “You always \nsay you miss running free and… wild was it?”\n\n-\tNibbles shrugged and stretched “They feed me”. He promptly faked falling asleep, his usual way to end conversations.\n\nThe truth was, Spot knew well, that the old cat was happy and comfortable in the house. Regular meals, a roof over their heads and toys to play with on their time off… it beat the life of a street hunter. Of course, no self-respecting street hunter would admit to it. Ghosts were, after all, most often found on the streets. The fact that it was thanks to the work Spot and his house-bound colleagues did never really occurred to the so-called “strays”. \n\n\n\n--------\n(Just a bit of an intro, but i figured I'd practice a little bit of writing. I might try to write some more and give the story a proper plot later!)", "The screen across the room flickered, just for a moment, but long enough to distract him from his book. James had no idea what channel he'd left it on, but anything was better than sitting in the stark silence of his shitty apartment. He'd grown too accustomed to the near constant noise that was student housing, but by now most people had gone home for the holidays, leaving the few remaining tenants to recover from a slew of pre-holiday parties. \n\nBefore he had time to regain his place on the page, his attention was stolen by a flurry of scratches in the hallway. Seriously, another rat problem?, he wondered. It'd only been a few weeks since the last of the traps had been put away, and a stern notice had been posted to the wall advising students that \"if you continue to live like animals, you're going to keep attracting more wildlife\". \n\nIgnoring the noise, he slid his finger down the page, searching for the last familiar sentence. As he did so, a shrill whine echoed through the building, closely followed by more scratching. Thoroughly confused, he placed the book back down on the bed, and made his way to the door. Cracking it open just enough to see through, he was promptly greeted with a blow to the head as something forced it's way inside.\n\n\"Fuck me!\" he exclaimed whilst stumbling back. Finding his balance he pivoted around to see what had just invaded his room. What appeared to be some kind of Receiver had taken root in the far corner, and was staring back towards the now open door. \n\nJames hesitantly checked his head for blood, keeping his eyes glued to the dog. It didn't appear to be vicious, but he could tell it was seriously wound up. Emanating noises somewhere between a whine and a growl, it continued resolutely facing the door, as if prepared to defend it's current position.\n\nNot wanting to take any chances, James backed out of his own apartment and closed the door behind him. \"Hello?\" he called out. \"Has someone lost a dog?\". No answer. \"Hello!?\". \n\nHe walked towards the stairs and peered down towards the unlit bottom floor. Outside, the remains of the day were rapidly fading, but enough light still crept through the windows for him to make out basic shapes and ideally a worried dog owner.\n\nWith an answer refusing to come, he took a few steps down so he could view the length of the hall. Whilst there were no signs of human life, he could see in the distance that the front door was open, again. Apparently, in the past, the correct way to deal with a locked door at 3am had been to kick it open, and the latch had never fully recovered.\n\nMaking his way further down the stairs, he saw a figure appear in the doorway, perhaps it hadn't blown open after all. “Hi there! Are you looking for a dog?” he called down. The figure stopped, clearly reacting to the question but giving no response. “It's a Golden Retriever I think? Any chance it belongs to you?”.\n\nA handful of oddly tense seconds passed before the figure resumed it's path towards the stairs. I must have hit my head even harder than I realised, he thought. The stranger had left the gloom of the doorway and was now partially illuminated by the upstairs light, yet James was having trouble distinguishing any human features from the background. If anything the guy seemed less defined than before.\n\n“Excuse me, can you hear...”. The words caught in the back of his throat as he tried to get them out. The air felt unnatural dry as he stifled a cough. The figure paused again. He couldn't see a face, yet somehow he felt the figure turn to look at him. In this better light it suddenly dawned on him that he could see air between the base of the figure and the cheap linoleum flooring. Panic set in.\n\nJames turned and raced back towards his room, it was his turn to burst through the door into his room. Slamming it behind him, he locked it and turned off the light so the room was dimly illuminated by the TV. He scrambled for the remote and hit the mute button. There were dozens of other doors on this hallway, and his was far from the first. This would at least buy him some time, but for what he wasn't sure. \n\nSomething brushed against his leg. He almost yelled in surprise but overrode his instincts just in time. He looked down to see the dog cowering by his ankles, in all the confusion he'd forgotten why he'd left his room in the first place. Thankfully the dog had taken this time to gather it's composure and was sitting quietly, if obviously still shaken. James was suddenly glad to have the company of this furry intruder, even if he wasn't quite so thankful for the swelling that was spreading across his forehead.\n\nHe took note of his surroundings, if the worst came to the worst there was always the outside window. It'd be a bit of a drop to the pavement below, and he wasn't wearing shoes, but he should avoid any serious injury if it came to that. He pushed the window open, just in case, and was rewarded with a blast of cold air in his face.\n\nFor what it was worth, he couldn't hear footsteps in the hallway but then again it wasn't even touching the floor. This train of thought snapped the rational part of his brain back into action. What am I even doing?, he questioned. Figures don't just float, no wait, people! People do not just float! He tried attributing the prior events to some form of concussion, but it was cold comfort as the door handle begin to turn and the dog pressed itself sharply against his legs.\n\nThe handle turned more and more violently, and James hit the light switch back on. Somehow his location had already been discovered, and he'd at least like to be able to see the ground outside should he have to fall. \n\nCRASH. The door flung itself open, the low budget lock breaking off the back of the door. James was about to dive, but before he could the window slammed shut. He pushed against the cold glass but nothing moved. He leant his shoulder into it but to no avail. By all accounts there was nothing holding the window closed, but it barely rattled as he threw his body weight into it.\n\nOn the other side of the door he could make out the palest of silhouettes against the magnolia backdrop. As it made it's way across the threshold and into the light, it lost all form entirely. By turning on the light he'd surrendered what little vision he'd had of it before. This wasn't the first time that logic had let him down today, and he had a feeling it wouldn't be the last. The dog began to bark. \n\nJames turned back to the dog who'd retreated back to it's corner. He watched as it's head slowly turned, clearly still tracking... something as it made it's way across the room. By James' calculations it couldn't be more than 2 feet away from now. He turned his attention back to the window and in one last ditch effort he threw himself at the pane for all his worth. \n\nIf it was possible, James felt some relief as he felt the glass give way. This was shortly lived, however, as he began quickly falling towards the ground below. \n\nHe landed hard. Broken glass proved to be a poor cushion and he felt a particularly large shard embed itself deep into the back of his leg. Had there been any air left in his lungs he would have screamed out. \n\nHe'd lost his health, his breath, and maybe even his sanity, but he made up for it with pure adrenaline. With a cough and a splutter, the cold night air surged back into his body. It felt like he'd broken at least one rib, but at least he was breathing. In a small turn of luck, the shard had missed anything 'important' and James was able to struggle back to his feet. He'd take whatever luck he could get at this point. \n\nJames turned his back on the building and staggered up the street. It wasn't too far to the local pub, to people, to help. There was no guarantee he was in the clear yet, but the figure seemed to be as slow as it was strong, and was hobbling at a decent pace. The blinding pain still shooting through his back and leg took his mind of the earlier bump to the head. \n\nBefore reaching the corner he heard a loud thud and a yelp from behind him, closely followed by the pitter patter of running paws. Apparently he wasn't the only one who'd taken the fast route back outside, though he'd certainly come off worse. \n\nAs the dog caught up, it stopped in it's tracks and turned back towards the building. James watched as its head began slowly tracing a route from the window towards the ground. He quickened his pace and the two of them continued towards the pub.\n", "Night has always been the playground of human imagination. Tonight was no different. Sitting atop this hill gives me a commanding view. My hill is a perfect example of its of kind. Gentle slope to all sides. Nice round top perfect for sitting. There isn't much to see from my comfortable vantage however. The only thing worth observing is the dark tree line of thick forest almost a mile away. Stretching from north to south as far as the eye can see. It seems to me the forest never stops. \n\n I'm not alone up here of course. That would be dangerous. My companion in arms sits quietly beside me contemplating our surroundings. I often wonder what he thinks of all this. For hours enemy artillery has illuminated the forest in steady, rythmik strobes of dirty orange light. I wonder what it means that my heart beats in time with natures destruction. \n\nOur enemy is cunning. They know none of my brothers and sisters in arms are in the forest. They know its where we have to go. This forest is all that stops us from marching into their capital to exact our vengeance upon those who have taken so much from us. Adolph quickly lifts his head to stare intently into the dark, raging forest before us. Thats my que. With practised ease I lay beside him to level my rifle, careful not to move to quickly. It wouldn't do to give away our position. Adolph would never let me hear the end of it if I did. The button atop my rifles scope sticks sometimes. I carefully jiggle it in its socket and see the tell tale sign of life spring forth. \n\nMy rifle and scope are both old. By modern standards both are ancient artifacts suited to museums or private collectors. Still, I wouldnt trade them for all the world. Time after time my weapon has saved our lives, never once jamming or in any other way failing our cause. My cheek nestles intimately against smoothly worn, hand carved wood. The smell of birch once again reminding me of my childhood. Of why Adolph and I are here this cold dark night. The calming electrical buzz of my scope brings my focus to the now. \n\nMy scope sees in black and white. Tall black trees surrounded by white fill my vision. Adolph and I sit staring into the uncertain night for nearly an hour. Neither of us moving, constantly reminding myself to breath slowly. Focus on Adolphs unwavering calm. Adolph, my best friend. Hell, my only friend. Never once has he given me reason to doubt his commitment to the cause. I recall the time he took down his first wretched enemy soldier. The still twitching remnants of the traitors throat dripping blood on Adolphs chest. Adolphs tail wagging so fast it was a blur to my eyes. Such glee in performing ones duty had I never witnessed. To think on this memory fills my heart with glorious purpose. With my faithful companion beside me no doubt of our victory could live in my heart. \n\nAdolphs almost imperceptible growl of warning wrenching me back to the now so quickly my eyes almost couldn't adjust fast enough. My heart froze in place, the ever present crump of distant artillery now loud in my ears. This is when I saw them. \n\nSo many of them, standing just inside the tree line. Oblivious to the steady rain of grisly death from above. We aren't ready for this. There's simply to many of them. I might drop one before they take our position but I can't wait that long. Adolph would surely be among them by then. Gnashing his fangs, hair raised, head held low with his eyes, those gorgeous blue eyes now wide and frantick in his madness. Never have I hated the most terrible enemy of my people more. To know my stalwart companion, my brother, would throw his life away to buy me time to escape crushes all thoughts of victory from my mind. \n\nThe radio on my hip quietly warbles my call sign. Clicking the bead mike around my throat I acknowledge. A subtle waver to the usual bravado normally heard in my voice. Damn well there should be, to! I'm no coward you hear me! How can I, just one man, be expected to fight so many of them!? It took seventeen shots from my rifle to drop just one of them the last time! Seventeen! Special bullets my left arse cheek! You can tell those cowardly scientists they failed! Whatever the hell they did to our ammunition does nothing to the dead. \n\nKundschafter? Kundschafter acknowledge.Yes, this is Kundschafter kommandant, I reply. Kundschafter what is your report, the kommandant inquires. Theres nothing happening here kommandant. Nothing all night. I sent Adolph back to our lines a few minutes ago. My ammunition was faulty kommandant. Adolph went to get fresh supplies. Lying doesn't suit me, Iv'e no tongue for it. This time I didn't need to however. Our miracle ammunition never worked. It was always failing due to the chemical makeup of whatever the hell those scientists put in it. \n\nUnderstood Kundschafter, remain in position until further notified instructed my kommandant. Understood sir, I lied. I had no intention of staying here a moment longer. Yes, the ammunition created to fight the undead is garbage, the bullets in my side arm however, are not. Regular bullets designed to kill regular misguided enemy bastards. How I miss the early days of this war, when killing a man was the end of it. How could any of us have known the more we killed, the more we doomed ourselves? How could we possibly have understood what was happening? Killing a man was no longer then end of it. You can't fight that. I know, Iv'e been trying to find a way for almost 6 years nows. \n\nSix years since my wife, my son, my reason for living were taken from me. I moved from the lowly cook position I once held to infantry shortly afterwards. My easy way with dogs saw my salvation. Adolph came to me as if guided by on high. He broke from his kennel at the training depot running threw the feeble attempts to capture him until he ran into me. He didn't see me standing there. He was scared a bit at first when I picked him up but despite his struggles I clutched him my to chest. I told him it was alright, there was none who could hurt him now. He licked my face then stuck his nose in the crook of my arm, falling fast asleep. My dearest friend from that day on. My love him is why I didn't let him see it coming. \n\nMy eyes dazzled, my ears rang. I'd not fired my pistol in so long I'd forgotten how loud it was. Adolph was there already. Its happening faster these days. Good, I won't have to wait. I look into the eyes of my wife and smile. Soon my love, soon. My pistol falls from my hand but I care not. Adolph is beside my son, licking his hand. I hold my wife to me so tight. Never again will I loose them. \n\nThank you Adolph. Thank you for finding my family. \n\n\n\n", "The dog was more wolf than anything else. She was old when Langundo found her, lying flat on her belly and growling as he approached. Beaten and bloodied. Her fur torn in a dozen places. She flashed her teeth at him. He squatted and looked at her for a long time, one hand wrapped around his spear in case she leapt up and tried to rip his throat out. Unnaturally big for a she-wolf. As long as full-grown man, stretched out in the little clearing. She growled and he pulled out a dried bit of meat. He edged a little closer and tossed it to her. A little while later he tested his luck, walked closer, and poured water into a make-shift bowl. After that she stopped growling, but kept her strange, blue, alien, intelligent eyes trained on him.\n\nHe had seen the northern tribes with his own eyes. Brutal, war-like people. They had culled wolves to their will, turning them into dogs. They obeyed commands, put a terrible fear in their enemies, ran down those who tried to escape their raids. They cornered animals in the hunt. They kept watch over their masters while they slept. \n\nHe sat there with the wolf for a long time. He thought about a medicine woman he had once met. Galilahi. A shaman priestess. She said that dogs saw spirits that most men could not. She said that if one traveled North for long enough, one would eventually reach the border of this plane and the next one – a bizarre land populate by demons, wendigos, jackals, gods. Wolves and dogs were the only beasts that could easily travel from one to the next.\n\nHe slept near the clearing that night and in the morning he woke in the pre-dawn light to find the animal lying against him, a shield of heat and fur against the freezing morning. \n\nHe fed her and began walking again, heading back across the plane to his own land. The she-wolf followed.\n\nHe learned that other humans had mastered her before. They had branded her, burned her with fire along her back. Either as punishment or a symbol of ownership. He could not tell which. At first he believed that she had been abandoned by her pack because of her age, but now thought that she had participated in some great battle or raid. She limped when she walked, but the wounds did not seem infected. He wondered why she had lain down to die before. Perhaps she only needed the sight of another human to giver herself a purpose.\n\nThey came through the great pine forest, heading south. He avoided these lands on his journey north, but he no longer had the luxury of time. Many terrible stories came from these woods. Tribes of men that consumed the flesh of other men. Bears possessed by demons. Wraiths that stalked the woods at night. On their second night Langundo woke, the wolf barking furiously. A jolt traveled through is body, the air charged with electricity. He shot up, grabbing his spear. \n\nHe saw nothing in the blackness. The ceiling of leaves eclipsed all light from the sky. He felt the wolf nearby, and he heard something else. A heavy breathing, a breath so massive he felt its heat washing over him. It smelled like decaying flesh, death. He sensed its massive form somewhere ahead of him, close. Its chest rattled with each breath. The ground vibrated with its force. The wolf kept barking. The thing in the darkness stood up, turned, and walked into the woods. He heard the trees bow and strain as it pushed them out of its way. The wolf stopped barking and he sat beside it, his heart thundering in his chest, petting the animal.\n\nIn the morning he woke to see the dog, standing over him, its blue eyes staring into his. It sprinted a dozen feet and ran back to him before taking off again, beckoning him to follow, as if to say that he had lead them up until now, but this was her land, and now it was her turn to lead.\n" ]	5
Anything goes. Anything.	[WP] When a ten year old child is visited by nightmarish beings, he or she proceeds to traumatize the visitors.	[ "(NSFW) \nThings that go bump in the night, the creatures that lurk among the shadows of your bedroom, and the quiet creeping you hear right as you lay your head to rest. These were all things that would scare any normal child, but not Cindy. \nCindy was born on a cold January night, when the entire city of New York was blanketed in the evenings snow showers. Born from a drug addled teenager, little Cindy was abandoned in an alleyway full of rats and disease, later found by the nearby nuns from the local catholic church. \nLittle Cindy was inconsolable as an infant due to the pain and the addiction she was born with from her birth mother's drug use. No one knew how to calm her, no one knew how to take away the pain, it was a \"miracle\" little Cindy even survived, or was it?\nAs a toddler Cindy distanced herself from the other children in the orphanage, she was what the psychologists diagnosed as \"antisocial\". It wasn't until another child provoked her that Cindy harmed another, and it wasn't until that first experience of the knife slicing across taut skin that Cindy felt any sort of thrill. \nThomas, constantly pulled at Cindy's hair and poked her with sticks saying she was a \"weirdo\". Cindy ignored him at first, but the pokes soon became hard stabs, and the stabs, became hard slaps, enough that it broke skin. Instead of telling on Thomas, little Cindy decided to take matters into her own hands, so that evening she stole the paring knife from the kitchen and sliced Thomas' cheeks and watched the blood fall onto the pristine clean tiles of the bathroom. \nCindy watched the blood fall and pool at her feet in wonder and arousal. When Thomas screamed, Cindy relished in his pain and anguish, but the nuns were displeased. They punished Cindy and made her sit through lecture and lectures about God and forgiveness. Cindy knew that if she wanted to feel that thrill again she would have to do it secretly. \nIt wasn't until she turned 10 that she started to hear the voices at night and see the creatures in her dreams. Every night they came to her, like a nightmare, like clockwork they came while she slept. And so one day Cindy prepared for their arrival... And she waited...\nThe tower chimed at the stroke of midnight, and Cindy knew tonight would be the night. Cindy was well prepared for her visitors. She wanted to show them what she could do. Out of the shadows the creatures arose and they all slithered and crept towards Cindy's bed. The orphanage was silent, not even the sounds of slow breathing from dreaming children was heard the only sound was the slow drip drip drip of something leaking. \n\"You won't find them... At least not in their beds\" Little Cindy whispered.\nThere was a familiar scent that lingered in the air, a stench that would make most people vomit the contents of their stomach, but to Cindy, the stench of blood and death was like the sweetest perfume. The creatures focused their eyes to the darkness in the room and started to notice bodies hung from the ceiling. Every single child and adult was hung from the rafters of the ceiling and every single body had thin slice marks on any possible surface of the skin. \n\"My God... What have you done Cindy?\" The creature had a muffled voice because of the white cloth that hid its ugly mouth. The creatures reached for the light switch and saw Little Cindy in the corner crouched with a small paring knife in her hand. \n\"Cindy, come here child, let us help you.\" The other creature spoke and removed the white cloth. Its lips were stained red, it looked like blood but too bright to be the color Cindy relished so much. Cindy wanted to go to the creature with blood on its lips, but noticed the third creature take out a small metal tube that held a water like substance with a sharp point at the end. That was what the creatures used to hurt her with. Cindy gripped her knife tighter and smiled. \n\"I know all your tricks. You won't ever hurt me again.\" \nCindy stood up slowly and sliced her throat wide open and felt the blood seep through the deep cut. Cindy tried to breathe and felt the blood gurgle into her airway. \n\"Oh my God! Cindy No!\" The creature with the blood on her lips screamed and lunged towards the now limp body and saw Cindy smile and eyes roll up to the ceiling where the bodies hung. ", "For the Night Terrors, Ben had been the ideal victim for nearly a decade. Courageous by nature, but so creative and so amazingly perceptive... his parents could never hide the truth of the world for long. Truth could be horrifying in its own way. That powerful imagination, that precocious knowledge, they converged in his dreams like two powerful mountain streams. The froth of the ensuing rapid cast angels and demons into sharp relief, gave them poignant form and greater clarity than any mind the Terrors had feasted on. Night Terrors simply pushed the beautiful ideations back into the tumultuous waters of the subconscious, and balanced this by holding the truly awful up in grotesque limelight...fixating Ben's mind on the worst it had to offer unto itself... a zero sum game.\n\n But Ben's pride and bravery, unrivaled by all but the stoutest heroes the Terrors had tormented, rebelled at the horrors, forging a cognitive dissonance at a level much deeper than the foaming surface. Every night, it became a world-shaking fault that threatened to bring down the very mountains of Ben's psyche . It was on this dissonance the Terrors would feed, until the unbearable psychic pressure roused Ben from his sleep, screaming for reasons he could neither name nor comprehend. The Terrors fed well for years.\n\nBut one night, shortly after his tenth birthday, the Terrors could find nothing to feed upon. Those mighty rivers had become a single glassy sea, eerily calm. Try as they might, the Night Terrors could call forth no forms, no thoughts of any kind from the impenetrable surface. The mountains were gone, the rivers gone. Only the sea remained, ineffable, without a hint of its depth. The Terrors hovered and raged above it's surface for weeks, to no avail. Finally, petulantly, they fled their host in disgust. Terrors have to feed, after all, and a decorated war hero had just moved into a house down the street. Bravery, pride, and horror in one mind... he would sustain them for a while, if not so richly.\n\nSix months later, Ben's mind called out to them again, far more strongly than it ever had, even greater than that night years ago when his two-year-old mind had first grasped true fear. The Terrors did not hesitate, did not need to think before flocking back to Ben's room. The closer they came, the more ravenous their hunger, and yet it seemed to take an eternity to reach their prey. Finally, they hovered over the sweet sleeping child, peaceful as he hadn't been in years, and slipped into the dream state. The twin rivers were, as they should be, and the joyous fiends prepared to feast once more.\n\nEverything just... stopped. The rivers were as still as ice, every whitecap beauty and dark swirling monstrosity frozen in statuesque perfection. But the roaring remained, deepened, became fundamental to this world. Confused, the Terrors cast their perception furtively in all directions and prepared to flee.\n\nThe sea surrounded them, on all sides, in every direction, far below the rivers and above the mountains, arcing across what should be the sky. \n\nThere was no escape. World-moving currents flowed through these great arcs, powerful and irresistible. The rapids that had been home to the Terrors for so long were now a tiny bubble in an ocean more vast than anything they could comprehend. It could crush them, wash them into oblivion like jetsam...but it stayed, waiting for something. For the first time, the Terrors felt the fear they had feasted upon since sentience began. \n\nThis was their downfall.\n\nThe great firmament of water pressed down without warning as a face both sweet and terrible roiled form its depths. Ben's visage smiled down toward the the rapids. the Terrors were formless and should be imperceptible, of course... of course. They clung to that ancient knowledge like castaways to flotsam. The Ben-thing smiled more widely.\n\nMY OLD FRIENDS, the roaring ocean boomed, I'M SO GLAD YOU CAME BACK TO VISIT. I REBUILT THIS PLACE, JUST FOR YOU. FOR US. The unbearable sky pressed in on them further.\n\nA trap! The terrors had been surprised by resillient minds before, but this was horrifying. Not only was their presence known, but a mere mortal - a boy - had known enough of their nature to lay a perfect snare. Thought fled, and terror reigned the Terrors. The Ben-mind began to thunder:\n\nYOU TAUGHT ME TO GAZE INTO WHAT I DID NOT WANT TO SEE. I GREW STRONG, I LEARNED TO DO IT WITHOUT YOU. BUT YOU NEVER DID COMPREHEND THE THINGS YOU SHOWED ME. YOU CAN'T. YOU LACK FORM, HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE OF OUR WAKNG WORLD. BUT I DO. EVERY SINCE MY BIRTHDAY, I SEE THE DREAMS OF MY FELLOW MAN, AND THANKS TO YOU I KNOW HOW TO READ THE TRUTHS IN THEM. MY GENEROUS TUTORS, ALLOW ME TO AMEND YOUR IGNORANCE.\n\nThe great swirling dome of this dream world finally came crashing down, and the Terrors were defenseless before it's immensity. \nMindlessly, they fled to the only familiar thing, into the deepest, darkest whorls of the frozen rapids...\n\nWar. Abuse. Hunger. Pain. Starvation, hunger beyond anything the Terrors had felt. Desperation. Powerlessness. Shame, humiliations, corruption. millions of lives, most innocent, stunted and damaged in heinous ways, some by the chaotic wiles of nature but most by fellow men. Eons of suffering. Life by life, the Terrors lived the worst of what reality had to offer.\n\nTHIS IS WHAT YOU FEED ON, FRIENDS. I THOUGHT YOU'D APPRECIATE A LOOK INSIDE. THAT WAS JUST INDIA. LET'S SEE HOW AFRICA IS DOING TONIGHT, EH?\n\nIt seemed it would never end. But finally, it did. The waters receded, and the exhausted terrors leaked back into the void between rapids and sea-sky. \n\nWELL, THAT'S ALL THE DREAMS OF TONIGHT, BOYS. SUN'S UP. BUT TOMORROW'S A NEW DAY!\n\nThe rapids fell away into the great ocean, the massive currents calmed, and that glassy sea returned. But there was still no sky. That impregnable surface formed a perfect sphere. There was no escape.\n\nsee you tonight! a child's voice whispered playfully. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You are at the Pearly Gates. You find out the only reason you get to go to Heaven is because a previously deceased loved one took your spot in Hell.	[ "Days come and go. What are days they really? Nothing but hours, minutes, and seconds. Day after day, minute after minute. We are all slowly dying, we will all slowly be nothing. We are a passing face on the street. That guy you call an ass hole in the parking lot. We are your boss, your maid, we are everything you wanted to be, and everything you didn't. When our time is up when my final day ticks on my final minute, I will be nothing. I will look at this world, and realize I contributed nothing, no one will remember me.\n\nI accomplished nothing of value, I made people hurt including what family I have left. No one will miss me if I just happened to slip over this edge. Let gravity eradicate me, and make me believe I am finally making a difference. I am going to better people by not being around. Where I am going won't be so pretty hehe. Well I always did like the heat, hopefully I can take my sunglasses anyways. \n\nIf my parents Could see me now. Pathetic, I could never be the man my father was. He was so strong. He would tell me to stop being such a pansy. The life I have lived would disgust my mother. She was what you would call your typical christian. She hardly ever had anything bad to say about people. Here I am a recovering drug addict, with a couple break, and enters. Not to mention unemployed. \n\n\"Sorry dad, I am just a fucking pansy!\" \nthose words almost hurt my throat. This breeze feels nice, could do without the ear popping though. \n\n3\n\n2\n\n1\n\nTimes up.\n\n\"Hello James, could you come this way?\" \nWhat is that, who is that.\n\n\"Please come this way james\" why does he sound so hurried.\n\n\"Ok I'm up already!\" wait I'm up? How am I up, where the fuck am I?\n\n\"It's ok James, you are in heaven.\" his voice chimes again.\n\n\"How am I in heaven? out of everyone that is dying currently on earth why does the end of my time signify me going to heaven?\" I can't help but to scream at him, I do not deserve to be here.\n\n\"James you had very special parents, very special indeed.\"\n\n\"My parents?\"\n\n\"Yes James in return for all four of their children to be allowed into heaven they sacrificed their souls for an eternity in hell.\"\n\nMy face is wet, tears are salty I forgot that. To have felt love when my time is up, I feel truly blessed. I wish I had lived a better life in honor of them. I wish I could talk to them one last time. I deserve to be down there not them.\n\n\"Is there any way we can reverse the deal?\" the shakiness in my voice is apparent, hell still scares me.\n\n\"I am sorry James there is not, please move along.\" the sound of the gate opening is noisy but beautiful at the same time.\n\n\"Can we get a message to them then?\" There has to be someway to do this, these people are all powerful.\n\n\"I am sure that can be arranged James.\"\n\n\"Please tell them I love them, and hope they still love this sorry old loser, and that I will take care of the girls once they get here.\" ", "Light. Glorious light. Full, bright, shining light. \n\nIt was faint, but in the otherwise complete darkness of the tunnel, the light was as obvious as blood under a black-light. There were no memories of how I'd arrived in the tunnel, only the sound of my own thoughts slicing through the silence. \n\nNo memory, no urge, no Harry. Just me and my thoughts. \n\n\"How'd you get here?\" Scratch that. Harry was here. \n\n\"I don't know.\" \n\n\"Think, Dexter.\" \n\nHow did I get here? The last thing I remembered was the clown. Carl the clown, entertainment for all, life of the party, rapist and murderer of the children. Child, rather, but it would have been children. I had him, but he'd spotted me... Did he knock me out and leave me in here? \n\n\"Carl.\"\n\n\"A clown, Dexter?\" Harry didn't seem convinced. No way would I make such a big mistake, especially with such an easy target. \n\n\"Let me think.\" I had him backed into a fence, he pulled out a gun, shot me twice. Where then, was I? \n\n\"Well fuck me in both ears.\" Debra. \n\nI turned around, but I couldn't see her in the blackness. \"Deb?\" \n\nMy subconscious hadn't used Debra before. \n\n\"Dex, who did you in? I imagine it was someone pretty high up there.\" \n\n\"A clown.\" Harry's voice cut in. \n\n\"Where am I?\" I asked Deb. She had to have come up for a reason, some part of me understood where I was. \n\n\"Purgatory, you dumb fuck.\" She said. \n\n\"Dexter,\" Harry's voice again, \"you don't seem surprised to see Debra. You seem to be accepting the idea that you're in purgatory rather well.\" \n\n\"I've run out of shock.\" The situation felt so surreal. So... fake. \n\n\"Well,\" Deb again, \"you have a choice to make Dex. you can go down into the darkness or up into the light.\" \n\n\"Bit of an easy choice.\" I replied. I felt, more than saw, Deb frown. \n\nHarry stepped forward. \"What she isn't telling you is that she went to the dark side for you Dexter. In doing it, she allowed you to have the choice of going to the light, if you want.\" \n\n\"So Deb is that way?\" I pointed to the dark end. I felt Harry nod. \"That way it is.\" \n\nDeb laughed and walked up to me, putting an arm around my shoulder. \"You wouldn't believe the stories Arthur Mitchell has.\" \n\n--- \n\nI woke up in a cold sweat on the floor of a log cabin. \n\nWhat the Hell was that? My subconscious is telling me that Deb went down the dark path for me, but I continued down it anyway. Dead, because of me. \n\nThe sound of bulldozers and chainsaws came from outside, reminding me where I was. I looked down, two patches were on my stomach. So I was shot. Apparently I'd managed to stop the bleeding before I passed out. \n\nShit, how long ago was that? I stood up against the pain and reached under my bed. I pulled out the m99 syringe case and got back upright. \n\nI had a clown to kill.", "Fitz was disturbed by a breeze. He opened his eyes, and sat up, looking around with a puzzled look on his face. He sat in what looked to be a park in a middle class area. A hue oak tree hung above him, its leaves a gentle canopy against the warm sun, though leaving enough to filter through to stay just warm enough for it to be pleasant. The grass was neat and trimmed, and there were no dirt patches in sight. Birds whistled somewhere in the distance. It was the perfect day. But there was nobody around. Such a beautiful day and nobody was here but him. He lay back in the grass. \n\n\"Enjoying it?\"\n\nHe snapped up and his gaze met with another man. His brows furrowed, and he looked from left to right. The other man chuckled.\n\n\"I came here when you got used to your surroundings. You can call me Michael.\"\n\nFitz lay back in the grass.\n\n\"Don't wanna call you anything, mate. I just want to enjoy this while it lasts.\"\n\n\"Well then we'll be here for a while.\" Michael answered. \n\n\"Good weather forecast or something?\" \n\n\"You could say that.\"\n\nFitz took the time then to look up at Michael. His strawberry blonde hair was long and wavy, he wore a white tunic with light blue jeans and no shoes, and he had a look of content on his face. Fitz looked at him incredulously.\n\n\"Are you one of those hippies or something?\" he asked.\n\n\"You could say so.\" \n\n\"And why do you keep talking like that? Like you don't want to answer me proper?\"\n\n\"I will answer you proper when you start asking the right questions. Horribly cliché, I know, but that's how these things work.\"\n\n\"What are you on about?\" Fitz asked. He rose to his feet. \n\n\"Do you not wonder how you got here, or even where you are for that matter?\" Michael asked. The man squared up to Fitz with a scowl now on his beautiful face. \n\n\"I...\" Fitz stopped.\n\n\"You're dead.\" Michael said.\n\n\"I'm not. I'm here and so are you.\" Fitz instantly denied.\n\n\"I was always here. You just got here. And why here? Let's see.\" Micheal clicked his tongue, reached behind his back and took out a notepad. \n\nFitz looked like he had just been hit by something.\n\n\"Fitzwilliam Hague. What a name!\"\n\n\"How do you-\"\n\n\"Oh and the things you've done.\" Michael interrupted. \"Identity theft, petty theft, major theft, adultery, gambling, and what's this here? Murder! How delightful!\"\n\n\"Where am I?\"\n\n\"Not to mention the reason for all of this. A crippling addiction to methamphetamines!\"\n\n\"I..how...\" Fitz stuttered.\n\n\"I am an angel, Fitzwilliam, and you are in heaven.\"\n\nThe breeze went by. The birds tweeted. The park was silent. And then Fitz started to laugh.\n\n\"Right, yeah, and I'm the fucking pope! Jesus, after all the things you just said how could I possibly be in heaven? Who put you up to this, Alex? Was it Carl? Who was it? How did you even get me here?\"\n\n\"You got here by your own accord, your own doing, your own needle! You are dead and the reason you are here is not your doing!\" Michael roared. \n\nThunder clapped in the distance before he composed himself.\n\n\"Look at yourself. Your arms. Your fingernails. Touch your hair. Breathe, smell.\"\n\nFitz paused, and looked. His skin looked rosier. The track marks were one from the insides of his arm. The tattoo of his drug dealer's initials was gone from his shoulder. His hair felt fuller and thicker. And then he took a breath ad smelt properly for the first time in seven years.\n\nPollen, and grass. And air. \n\n\"Air shouldn't have a smell. It's just air.\" He said in wonder.\n\nMichael looked at him then, and Fitz saw pity in the man's eyes. Pity, but also disgust.\n\n\"Fitz, you aren't good enough for this place. You did't get here on your own.\"\n\n\"Well how did I get here then?\"\n\nMichael took Fitz's arm then, and steered him to walk with him. The scenery changed nearly instantly to a small living room. A fire roared in a large fireplace, and two worn yet comfortable armchairs were at either side. A christmas tree was to the left, ad looking through the window to the right, you could see it was snowing outside. Where outside was though was a mystery. There was only an old streetlamp and the faint light of another house across the road.\n\n\"Heaven adjusts itself to what each person needs. When you woke up, you needed peace.\"\n\n\"What do we need now?\"\n\n\"A comfortable place to sit.\" Michael said. He sank into the right armchair, and gestured for Fitz to take the other.\n\n\"Are you going to tell me how I got here now? If I...died, shouldn't I be in hell if I'm so shit?\"\n\n\"Fitz you weren't just shit. You were deplorable. We understand that there were reasons for the way you behaved, but you had a chance to get out and you turned it down. You could have been saved and you chose to keep on how you were.\"\n\n\"I...I don't know what to say. You're right. I had a chance.\" \n\n\"So for all accounts, you should ot be allowed here.\"\n\n\"But why am I?\" Fitz asked.\n\nThe angel sighed slightly, and leant back in his armchair, his brow furrowed. \n\n\"Nina. She grew up with you. before you spent your trust fund and your father disowned you. She always loved you. And when you disappeared she looked for you everywhere she could. When you showed up at her doorstep, curled over with withdrawals, she went out into the city and bought you meth because it was the only way she knew to make you stop screaming out in pain.\"\n\n\"Stop.\" Fitz said, weakly. His head was in his hands now, in his knees. He rocked back and forth.\n\n\"And she tried to help you. She offered to put you in rehab and you kept putting it off.\"\n\n\"Stop!\" Fitz said louder.\n\n\"You used her to keep on buying your meth when you had no money to! When you were dried up you used her!\"\n\n\"I SAID STOP!\" Fitz screamed. He launched himself up and punched the wall furiously. \n\nIn a fake house on fake Christmas Day in a corner of heaven, an angel looked on as a saved drug addict cried.\n\n\"Fitz, you went missing and shortly afterwards she was in an accident. It was nothing to do with you, before you ask. It was a car crash. Drunk driver. She died instantly. That was three years ago.\"\n\n\"Where is she?\" Fitz demanded.\n\nMichael got that pity/disgust look on his face again.\n\n\"She took your place.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"In hell. She took your place.\"\n\n\"That's...that's not...that's not possible is it?\"\n\n\"It is.\"\n\n\"This is a joke.\"\n\n\"It's not.\"\n\n\"It is!\"\n\n\"It's not!\"\n\nMichael stood.\n\n\"She heard you were dead and she dragged herself up to an archangel and she begged. And the archangel looked into her heart and saw the hatred and the pity and the suffering that was in her heart that was because of you. But more than that, more than anything was love.\"\n\nSilence hung in the air like a knife.\n\n\"She loved you in many ways. She tried to protect you. But she could not in life. She chose to in death.\" Michael finished.\n\n\"I...I...\"\n\n\"The irony of this whole situation is that you will both be in hell. Her physically, and you...well, every day you will have to think about her down there. You are saved, Fitz. In paradise. All because of her.\"\n" ]	3
Hey. I love this sub reddit and I feel lost in life sometimes. Just nice to see other people's creativity and aspirations.	[WP] your hopes and dreams. 7 sentence limit.	[ "To do what makes me happy.\n\nTo travel to places I never thought existed.\n\nTo find the perfect woman.\n\nTo do my dream job, Acting.\n\nTo bring joy to other people.\n\nTo always be positive in the darkest times.\n\nAnd to be able to look back on my life and think \"hm good job Lawrence, good job\"", "What if I told you there were two fathers, two sons, yet three names in common, passing strength through generations, along with vices? One a saint, one a soldier, and the last a scientist, yet all who have aimed to be good men in a bad world, but have fallen victim to circumstance and their own humanity. So then, can we attribute it to nurture, or nature? Has this cycle of violence, drunkenness, and depression truly been inherited by son each instance, or has each simply found themselves in conditions that ultimately break them? I'm not looking for a way to justify my behavior, my father's behavior, or my father's father's behavior; just a means to end this self-destruction and lead a life that others would call great, and full of love. To break this cycle and to leave the world better than I found it; that's my hope for myself, and my son to follow.", "His hands folded over his chest.\n\nHis folded hands ended up calloused.\n\nHis calloused hands worked for the things he wanted.\n\nHis careful hands made what was worth making.\n\nHis patient hands molded children better than him.\n\nHis caring hands held the woman he had fallen for.\n\nHis hands were once held by a woman who loved him.", "I'm trying to paint a picture.\nSomething my mother would be proud to hang in her living room.\nWith the shading and color imperfect, but all mine.\n\nI'd love to see the lives around me blossom,\nbecause I was blessed enough to be around their spring.\n\nIf I could take a step forward every day, no matter how small,\nI'd be getting somewhere. \nCloser to there and further from here.\n\nBut finally, and most importantly if I can,\nI'd like to see where the sidewalk truly ends, \nbefore the street begins." ]	4
	[WP] Write a funny story in a serious setting or a serious story in a funny setting.	[ "We were the last. The last of an ancient race, ridiculed, scorned and hunted by mankind. Our number dwindled now to only a handful. How did it come to this? A riddle none could now answer.\n\nOurs was a peaceful race, content to sing our ancient songs, known to us from birth, known to us as babes even before words. \"...Oooomm...\" the deep thrum of my mother's voice still echoes in the recesses of my mind. She is gone now, like so many others I knew. But her pride never left her, even as the light dwindled from her green eyes and hair. \n\nHidden from the outside world, we took sanctuary from one man who showed us kindness. He gave us a place to live, and for that we promised to remain forever grateful, forever in his debt. But that was before. His kindness soon turned from sweet to sour. They say that sweetness can rot your teeth. Nothing could be more true. \n\nWe were made to do forced labor under his the Master's dominion and control. Our once proud songs, canticles of mystery soon became the songs of slaves. \"...oooommm paaaa...\" And yet our singing carried us through the long days and nights sweating for our master and the rare visitors he would entertain. Often we would amuse ourselves with riddles, a way to pass the time. \"What do you get when you guzzle down sweets? Eating as much as an elephant eats?\" \n\nMaster's guests would gawk at us, and so we sang to them our riddles, that they may know how the master would make them suffer too. ", "Bohemian Rhapsody.\nOut of the vast catalogue of songs Fabrice had to choose that one? \nThe high pitched screams and the difficult switches in tone could make or break his musical performance confidence.\n 'And now ladies and gentlemen, please welcome: 'Feisty Fabrice.'\nThe Gabby's Irish Pub faithful roared with voracious approval. They always did- at the start anyway. The elderly lady in the corner narrowed her eyes. If only his father was there to see this.\n 'Dude, I've never seen you sing before, are you sure you wan this one?'\nThe DJ's nonchalant question, practically begged Fabrice to reconsider, Wonderwall or the. Piano Man maybe. Bohemian was always a lottery for the business of the pub.\n\nFabrice eyed him up with steel conviction.\n\n'I g,g.....got this.'\n\nHis voice conveyed a resolute determination. He was singing this song, regardless of the consequences. That stammer in his voice, for some bizarre and beautiful reason, deserted him on stage.\n\n'Is this a real life, is this just fantasy?'\n\nFabrice glanced down at the beer soaked ground. His whole journey, was it real or just a figment of his imagination. \n\n'Cmon dude your fading...'\n\nThe DJ expressed his concern as the onlookers started shuffling outside. \n\n'Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality....'\n\nFabrics's boisterous response, atoned for his distracted demeanour. What his mother and him had been through during the past year, debt, the breakdown, the tears slowly streamed down his face. \n\nThe Drunken admirers expressed their approval through frantic dancing and off tune vocal back ups, jugs in hand. \n\nThe elderly lady shuffled in her seat. Looking numb. Why couldn't he be here? What was the truth? She scraped her hair back, past her red cheekbone. \n\n'Mamaaaaa, just killed a man'\n\nFabrice, barely whispered the lyrics as the tears cascaded down his face.\n\nHe summoned the courage and tilted his head towards her.\n\n'Mama, life had just begun....but now I've gone and thrown it all away.'\n\nThe lady grasped with fury, confusion but above all a sadness which sank her heart like a ship to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. She burst I to tears, turned her back on her stunned son and ran out of the bar into solitude...security.\n", "I was staring at the bookshelf for about 2 minutes. I couldn't free myself until Natalie touched my shoulder:\n\n\"Hey. What's wrong?\"\n\n\"Nothing, sorry\" - I still was recovering some senses I didn't know I've lost. - \"What's up?\"\n\n\"You're alright?\"\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\n\"You're gonna wear sneakers? There will be water.\"\n\n\"I'm changing in a bit.\"\n\nMaybe I was outside myself longer than imagined. It was almost time to gather with the guys to play hide and seek... or tag... or something with water also. When I said I'd participate, I was willing to, but now... now I'm just tired to say 'no'.\n\nAs they plan the boundaries within the campus, talking about the game numbers - 3 trees, 2 players doing something, 1 safespot here and there and so on - I kept thinking about my own numbers to be worried about; 2016, 22, 40.000, 600 and many more to come and go. I nod when Guy said something and turn my back to the direction of my dorm.\n\nSomeone makes my shirt heavy with water and so is my head getting heavier, making cloudy thoughts paradoxically forbid even a brainstorm to help figure out my problems. Fingers on my waist reminded me of how I am usually chosen to things like that. 'It'. I was it. I was 'it'.\n\nI looked at Natalie running towards the 'gum-tree' and then, further, the lights were being turned on, one by one, even though the sky - on my vision - was still blue enough. I knew that path was uselessly lit only at that moment, as the dark night behind would soon catch up, so I didn't cared and I ran. I ran so far away.\n\nEDIT: Formating.", "\nRichard’s mother had alzheimer’s, his father was an alcoholic. We were staying over the weekend to watch over her so Richard’s sister could get some rest from the tireless, thankless job. We sat in a room and had tea with them. It was ten o’clock in the morning. \n\t“Gee Louis, how much have you had to drink today, you know this is the reason we can’t let you watch over the lady yourself, don’t you.” said Richard \n\t“Why don’t you ask your mother Richard, she’s keen on remembering these things.” His father responded \n\tRichard sighed, “Well mother, how much has Louis had to drink today?” \n\tHis mother said “Only one.” as Louis was pouring himself another drink. \n\t“See there, i’ve been being responsible.” \n\t“Obviously.” Richard responded. \n\t“You boys want to do some drugs?” Louis said “I’ve got some fine reefer and if you’d like we can crush up some oxycontin and put it in the pipe. \n\t“Louis, that sounds reckless, please, just the pot is enough, why be extreme?” Richard says \n\t“As you like it, pussy.” Louis said. \n\t“Anyways, what does your wife think about that habit of yours?” Richard retorts \n\t“What do you think about my pipe, missy?” Louis says while stuffing his pipe. \n\t“I love to see you smile, honey” she replies. \n\t“You see? We’re all in good company here”\n\tRichard was puffing at his pipe. “So, Louis, what do you do for fun around here.” I say \n\t“I drink, I smoke, and I fuck my wife. I might read the paper from time to time, but that never holds my interest.” \n\t“You don’t care for anything that isn’t in some way addictive” says Richard \n\t“I am a man of my vices. I’ve got my balls in a vice it seems, the vice grip of your mothers mouth.” Louis laughs, “ I spread jelly on them so she sucks on them longer, she seems to lose interest after a while.” \n\t“Aren’t you a little old for that, Louis?” Richard says \n\t“They make pills for that now, boy, get with the times.” his dad responds. \n\tRichard was visibly upset, and quite embarrassed. \n\t“You treat your sick wife like that, Louis?” I say \n\t“I tell that disease she has to suck on my tasty balls.” \n\t“I see your doing your part to fight it.” I respond sarcastically \n\t“So long as she doesn’t start biting, and I don’t think she’ll start growing teeth any time soon.” Louis replies \n\tLouis puffs on his pipe for a bit “So is this your boyfriend, Richard?” \n\t“No, Dad, I’m not gay. I just knew i couldn’t handle you two by myself this afternoon. Steve is just a buddy of mine” \n\t“Butt buddy, i presume” Louis scoffed under his breath. \n\t“Real mature Louis.” \n\t“So are you going to hit the pipe, boy?” Louis motions the pipe towards me. \n\t“I have no objections to that.” Richard frowned. “Atta boy”, Louis says. \n\tThe weed made me feel a bit less serious, catching good vibes from Louis in the dreary house. “Damn, this is some good stuff, Louis” I said \n\t“Of course it is, it’s medical” \n\t“What do you need medical marijuana for, Louis?” Richard says \n\t“ Any bullshit I feel like making up, boy! Don’t question me.” \n\t“You can keep hitting that pipe, Steve. On the other hand…\" Louis paused \n\tHe stares Richard in the eyes. “Richard, I am going to fuck your mother” \n\tThis makes Richard uncomfortable. Louis lifts up his wife and pats her on the ass, gesturing to their bedroom as they walk down the hall. \n\t“I can’t deal with this sometimes.” Richard says \n\t“Your parents seem like swell people Richard, just accept them.” I say \n\tThere is a steady creaking and soft moaning coming from down the hall. \n\tRichard had his head in his hands, and I continued to happily smoke the pipe. \n\tSoon enough there was a loud “Erghh, urghh, ughhh” in a choking, grunting sort of way heard from down the hall. \n\t“This is so gross.” Richard says \n\tRichard’s mother walks down the hall naked, and continues to walk in front of us to continue into the kitchen. \n\tI chuckle. \n\tAfter a moment, Richard told me to go check up on Louis. \n\tI go to look. “Oh shit, I think he might be dead!” i say \n\t“Oh no!” Richard says, and comes running in. \n\tLouis was naked, with a full erection, clenching his heart and staring up at the celling, motionless. \n\t“No, no pop.” Richard begins to tear up “You can’t be dead.” He leans in to hug his father. \n\tBefore he can, Louis springs up. “Ahaha, you would bend over in front of a naked man with hard-on. I knew you were a faggot, boy!” \n\tLouis and I laugh heartily, Richard was embarrassed. \n\t“Very funny…” Richard says as he walks out the room, Louis and I moved into tears from the laughter, I holding onto the wall, and him rolling in his bed. \n\tTo this day, Louis is still a father figure to me, and I often dream of being as bold as the legend himself. \n\n\n(i tried to fix the formatting. First time doing one of these.", "John fidgeted nervously with his wedding ring on the candy cane spiral table. His knee bounced nervously under the table as a crab waddled under clicking its claws in a mariachi rhythm. This was John and Kim's favorite restaurant it served fast food, slow food, and on Wednesday's it even served medium food.\n\nJohn flicked his ring a little too hard and it hit the rainbow colored with white pok-a-dots floor. As he bent over to grab it he glanced towards the back of the restaurant. The regular clowns sat in the far corner under a red and green lamp shaped like a christmas tree. They were deep into their milk shakes, John knew they would be getting loud soon, they never could handle their shakes. He quickly snatched his ring right before that stupid slinky dog, Bow-Wow, snapped at it with its jaws. That dumb dog was always getting tangled and yapped incessantly with it's twangy metallic bark until someone untangled him. The door bell jingled as someone came in. John looked quickly, his knuckles tightening on his wedding ring. A man with a horse head mask walked through high-fiving the plastic frog statue that was faded from the years of watching the door vigilantly, greeting the visitors with his right hand ever raised in the air. \n\n“Geez, I need to relax” John muttered to himself. He waved down his favorite waitress. Today she was dressed in a pinstripe suit sporting a fake mustache. Her blonde hair was brushed over shoulders ending just above her ample breasts. “I'd like a Miler Lite please, Jeronimoe”\n\n“You got, John, your usual boring drink coming up...” she said sauntering away. John watched her walk away and wondered how she could afford such a form fitting suit as a waitress.\n\nThe bell dinged again, John looked up quickly and saw Kim. Her body silhouetted by the sunlight. John remembered the first time she walked through that door wearing bunny ears and tight pink top. That seemed like forever ago, and so much had gone wrong. The man with the horse head weaved behind her to exit and slipped falling flat on his back. The bartender played cartoon sounds as he fell, the whole restaurant burst into laughter, except John and Kim.\n\nKim sat across from John at the candy cane table. Bow-wow barked at her with that annoying metallic bark until she acknowledged him. She then turned to John, tears already in her eyes. \n\n“How could you,” she whispered “after all these years.” She chocked up and went silent. John sat silently and one of the clowns slammed down his glass laughing maniacally. “John, after all these years,” she began again, “you have never done anything so awful as you have done now.”\n\n“But, baby!” John began to protest.\n\n“Don't you baby me!!” Kim hissed. The man at the neighboring table farted loudly and his date giggled uncontrollably. “You don't have the right to call me that.”\n\nJohn stammered, “I just didn't know that...”\n\n“That she was my SISTER!!” A cream pie flow over Kim's shoulder planting straight onto John's pale face. “How could you not know it was my sister, you've met her a hundred times!” \n\nThe clowns loaded up another pie while the bartender began playing carnival music. “She had on so much make up she could have been anyone.” John's lame excuse sounded as wet and lame as the whoopy coushin someone had set up for an incoming customer.\n\n“You shouldn't have been with ANYONE!” screamed Kim. “That's it, we are through. I'm going to call a lawyer tomorrow.” As she got up trilling of an incoming bomb whistled just as a pie contacted the side of Kim's. Whipping the cream from her eyes she hissed “I hope you never get laid again, cheater!”\n\nAs Kim stormed out and John's tears carved canyons in the pie cream coating his face.", "Kadi runs across the house, Nerf gun in hand. She's three points away from beating her brother, Kyle. She runs through the living room and it seems too quiet. She hears her dad yelling in the other room, as usual. However, this time, she hears a little more. BANG! BANG!....BANG! 3 Shots from the other room. She runs into the bedroom to find her mom shot in the head. Kyle is dying slowly, with a wound right through the chest. Lastly, her father, dead on the floor with a gun in his hand. A smile creeps across her face. Kyle begging for her help, \"Kadi, please! Call the police! Dad went insane! Why the fuck are you smiling?!\" She thinks for a second and says, \"Last man standing, I win. LOL.\"", "\"No, I don't want to.\" John weeps, his eyes clouded by tears. There is a strange sensation of death lurking around the corner, and he could not escape. His hair stood on end, and a chill went down his spine as he tried to pull himself free from this strange device. It is too late for him now, he must meet with demise, only then, will this nightmare end.\n\nRight by his side, is his loving wife, Jan. She squeezes his cold and clammy hand, and he felt the warmth from her tiny, delicate fingers.\n\n\"I love you, John.\" She smiles ever so sweetly. Her angelic face, will he be able to see it again on the other side?\n\n\"J-Jan, I-I love you too-\" He barely got to say, before the roller coaster started to fall from the highest point.\n\nHe gave out a shrill scream as it went down. It felt like he was going to fly off at each tight turn, and when it finally reached the loop, he saw the ground. His vision went black soon after.\n\n\"Honey, it is over.\" His wife laughs, nudging him to dismount.\n\n\"WHY JAN!? WHY!?\" He starts blubbering. He felt his cheeks burning, so he buried his face both his palms.\n\n\"Because dear, you promised Jake that you would on his birthday.\"\n\n\"Let's do that again!\" Jake leaps up at both his parents.\n\n\"A-Again!?\" John stammers. The staff members became so amused, that they let them cut the line.\n\n\"No, dear! Please no!\" But she pulls him down into the seat, once again trapping him with that iron bar.\n\n\"Ahhh! Don't worry about it!\" A staff member comforts as he double checks the safety bars.\n\n\"It only goes about 50 miles an hour, and a few hundred feet off the ground!\"\n\n\"NOOOOOOOOO!\" John wails, this time bursting into tears completely.\n\n\"YESSSSS!\" His son cheers from behind.\n\nAnd they are off again, riding the ride of death.", "I entered the room. The president has been shot. There isn't much time to figure this mystery out before the building blows. Hot shot detective like me shouldn't have any trouble with this, right? Not right. My worst grades in highschool were in the Bombs and Guns class - I was always more of a Knife and Chakram student but that wasn't gonna stop me. I was gonna get to the bottom of this mystery if it killed me.\n\n\"If only David were here\" I thought \"He'd have some ideas as to how this all happened.\" I thought again.\n\nJust then - David burst in the room through a hidden passage in the bookcase. He was wearing his brilliant white vest and plaid pants. For some reason he has tire marks running up his right sleeve but otherwise he looked no worse for wear than I did.\n\n\"Jesus!\" exclaimed David as he surveyed the carnage \"I have some ideas about how this happened.\"\n\n\"I'm glad to hear that David. I thought you might. What do you think?\"\n\n\"Well. Jesus. The president has been shot and the building is about to blow up. I'm thinking sea clams.\"\n\n\"To eat? How could you think of eating at a time like this David? The president has been shot and the building is about to blow up!\"\n\n\"You get me wrong Jesus. It's that family of sea clams. They're the ones behind this!\"\n\n\"You mean the mutant sea clams grown together in that science lab down the street? The ones the president just recently sent to forced labor at the bomb and gun factory? How can this be possible?\"\n\n\"First off Jesus. Mutant sea clams isn't politically correct. You should refer them as highly intelligent sea clams or David Spade sea clams.\"\n\n\"Why David Spade sea clams?\"\n\n\"Jesus... They named the science lab after him when he.... nevermind. We have to focus here. We don't have time to revisit the history of the science lab down the street. Yes it was the sea clam family. Yes the same ones that were in forced labor at the bomb and gun factory. It's all entirely possible because that factory is accessible through this secret passage.\" David points at the bookshelf he came through which has since sealed itself up.\n\n\"Ok. We've solved how they did it but what was their motive. Sea clams aren't evil. Even highly intelligent ones will still have a lawful good alignment according to my dungeon master guide here. It doesn't make sense and you of all know that no jury this side of the cross will convict without with a motive established.\"\n\n\"Jesus you're right. I can't imagine the sick kind of monster that would frame the sea clams with this crime. Unless....\"\n\n\"Yes David. It makes perfect sense. The family of sea oysters were meeting with the president today to discuss the latest developments in the science of racial profiling. We should have never elected them.\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ almighty I think you've solved it. Let's get outta here before this whole house blows. Follow me.\" David ran over to the bookshelf and pulled out the copy of 'Chicken Soup for the Leader trying to establish a global sense of community' and the bookshelf began to open. \"Jesus. Who would've thought the highly intelligent sea oysters were behind this all along?\"\n\n\"They're just regular oysters with arms and legs David. Also - could you stop swearing so much? Please.\" I asked.\n\n\"Sure thing Steve. Sure thing but we gotta keep moving!\"\n\n\"Oh, one last thing. What's with the tire marks on your nice white vest?\"\n\n\"These?\" David blushed \"I met a really special lady earlier today. She's highly a intelligent sea tire and well - you know how it is - I can't resist those treads.\" David said as we strode down along into the catacombs and away from the blast zone which would eventually kill millions.\n\nTo this day the family of sea oysters are still on the loose and the family of highly intelligent sea clams are still working diligently to pay off their student loans debt at the bomb and gun factory. David went on to raise of family of sea tires and I... well that's another story.", "I looked across the battlefield at my enemy. He stood, his eyes fixed on me with malicious intent. I reached for my weapon and drew it up in a fighting stance. He drew his sword and we ran at each other full speed. Halfway across the field, I tripped over one of the small plastic balls and fell in to an oblivion of rainbow plastic spheres. I looked up and met eyes with my enemy. I knew I was done for. He plunged his sword through my esophagus and I choked on my own blood.\nTwas a bad day for me in the McDonald's ball-pit.", "The slave looked up at the king, Marceus his name; he has the appearance of a person who constantly needs to sneeze, yet never does; always promising, never delivering.\n\n“More wine sire” he spluttered.\n\n“This isn’t how I imagined I would be killed, in my own castle, surrounded by all the Kings and Queens who pledged their loyalty to me”. The soon to be High King told the young slave without breaking the false smile forced on to his face for all his guests. The guests return the gesture while strategically positioning themselves around the vast, yet packed hall. Music plays, subjects dance, royals gorge themselves. To the untrained eye it may look like St Luke’s old people’s home for the disabled, but it’s almost definitely a castle that just happens to have wheelchairs and a coffee machine. \n \n“Then why would you invite them here my lord?” Marceus replied.\n\n“Which one of them do you think it’ll be? Maybe Lord Garris?” The King proclaimed while waving to the short, but intimidating Lord across the hall.\n\n“Garris doesn’t fail; he’s past perfection, only fighting his past perfections”.\n \nGarris sits at his table slicing up his steak into perfect slices, never eating. One eye on the knife in his hand, the other on the King. This isn’t foreshadowing, Lord Garris is just crossed eyed. \n\nMarceus wonders why Lord Garris still stays in the kingdom despite his wealth, if Marceus were him he would leave this shithole faster than Mexican food.\n\n“Is it safe for me- I mean us to be here sire?” Marceus whispered, his hands trembling as he pours the King more wine.\n\n“Or maybe Lady Visoff?\"\n\n“Your daughter?\"\n\n“I suppose not, stupid girl, the type to eat her cutlery with her food\".\n\nWith a steely glare the king reminisced about his few years with his daughter. \"She may be the foulest woman I have ever met; I remember looking after her, back when I lived in the village. I’d change her garments and my eyes would burn from the stench she dared to liberate from her posterior.\n\nI didn’t change those garments, those garments changed me.” He mumbled in his gravelly Batman-like tone.\n \nLady Visoff sits far away from the King, neglecting her food, which isn’t difficult for her since neglect runs in her family, but it is strange, because she is a mammoth of a mammal.\n\nThe King stares downs at the huge wedge of ham in front of him, bigger than his daughter before he abandoned her, which sounds like he left her when she was a teenager, but in reality she was a really fat baby. Kinda like a baby whale, if it was obese and depressed. Did she get fat because she was depressed or was she depressed because she was fat? Which came first: the chicken or the egg? Both of which are probably things she'd eaten today. \n\n“I suppose I wouldn’t want to leave this world on an empty stomach. Fetch me that knife boy”\n\nThe knife, if you can call it that, was probably sharper than the weapon used to kill the boar, hell most men were not given such a sword on the battlefield.\n\nThe same knife was once used on the Marceus’s brother; he had dropped the knife on the king’s toes, the king stabbed him repeatedly so quickly it looked like he was bringing a horse to climax.\n\nMarceus gazed at the knife. He carefully clutched it feeling its weight, wondering if he had what it takes to relieve a horse.\n\n“You don’t want me to starve to death, do you?” the king bellowed.\n\nHe stared daggers into the king, slowly moving towards him. The knife felt heavier in his hands, too heavy; it clatters to the ground.\n\n“For god’s sakes bastard, how I have not been killed by your incompetence in the past is something only gods know.”\n\nMarceus snapped out of his trance, grabbed the sword and stumbled to the king.\n \nThe king snatched it out of his hands, waving it around with ease. The pig is about to thrust it into the ham when a giant, ugly brute of a man interrupts, and I mean giant. Like you know the saying faith can move mountains? This guy’s name was probably faith.\n \n“I hope you’re not planning on finishing that” he boomed. “This kingdom is tired of you”. \n\nThe music stops.\n\nThe giant has a gun to the king’s head, one of those ones that are always used in westerns, which is peculiar because they won’t be invented for another few thousand years.\n\nPerhaps he was a time travelling giant, I don’t know. Point is he has one.\n\n“What is the purpose of this piece of plastic you hold?” the king whispered.\n\nThe giant man aims through a window and pulls the trigger.\n\n“This”\n\nThe bullet decapitates a nearby falcon.\n\n“Heavens”.\n\nThe king jumps out of his seat and pulls the knife out of the boar.\nHe raises the knife to the giant man’s throat.\n\n“If I’m going to be killed, you’re coming with me”.\n\nHe grabs a gourd of pepper and smashes it on the ground for emphasis. Marceus starts to sniffle. Several guards poise their swords at the giant.\n\n“You thought you could hurt me, in my own castle” the king gloated.\n\nThe king tosses the knife behind him, Marceus catches it, still trying to stifle his sneeze.\n\n“Let this be an example to all those who want to kill me”\n\n“I WILL NOT DIE TONIGHT”\n\nMarceus can’t hold in his sneeze any longer.\n\nHe lets rip and the sheer force of this decade long charged sneeze surges him forward, stabbing the king through his back.\nThe king is dead.\n\nMarceus is the Ghandi of this century, sacrificing everything to give freedom to the whole kingdom. There will be films based on his life such as “MARCEUS: LONG SNEEZE TO FREEDOM”, starring Ian Mckellen as Marceus, a 12 year old black child.\n\nBut before anyone can react, a voice screeches and reverberates around the hall.\n \n“GODDAMN IT KYLE WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT SEVERING THE PENSIONERS”.\n\nIt is a young woman with an apron that says “St Luke’s Retirement Home”\n\nOkay this may be a home for the old and disabled-\n \nFuck.\n\n", "“I don’t think this was an accident,” Detective Greene said, staring down at the body, its torso half-covered in a blue tarp. It had clearly been laying there for a while, its visible skin already showing signs of decomposition.\n \n“Why’s that?” Chuck said, kneeling down closer to the body. It smelled like foul play, and also like fish that had been left out in the sun for significantly longer than it should have been. Chuck tilted his head. Why would anyone leave fish out in the sun? It didn’t make any sense.\n\n“Look,” Greene said, pointing to the corpse, “it has no head.”\n\nHe was right. The shoulders connected to the neck, and then simply stopped. That was not how the song he’d learned in elementary school went at all. The neck bone connected to the head bone. He was sure of it.\n\n“My god,” Chuck said, gently waving his hand back and forth through the empty space where the head should have been, “you’re right. There’s nothing here.”\n\n\"See?\" Greene said, contorting his face into an \"I told you so\" expression.\n\n\"Still,\" Chuck said, \"isn't it possible he did this to himself?\" He’d once read somewhere that people can live for up to ten minutes without their heads. Or perhaps that was chickens. Regardless, Chuck was fairly confident that chickens and humans shared a lot of similar characteristics. It didn’t really matter which type of animal the fact had originally been about, it likely applied to both.\n\n\"Completely cut off his own head and moved it several feet away?\" Greene said, nodding toward the beaten and disembodied head laying upright on the table almost ten feet away.\n\n\"Yes,\" Chuck said. He thought his question had been pretty clear. \n\n“Maybe,” Greene said, nodding slowly, “but, check this out.” He stood up and took a few steps forward, his navy blue NYPD blazer hanging over his shoulder, then stopped beside the table holding the head. He picked something up off of it, twisting his long, thin arms as he reached, and wandered back. \n\n“What is it?” Chuck said, leaning closer to Greene. He smelled significantly less like sunburnt fish.\n\n“I think it’s a weapon,” he said, thrusting his palm toward Chuck. A large, black pistol lay in it, blood speckled across its barrel like a Jackson Pollock.\n\n“Are you sure?” Chuck said, grabbing the pistol and caressing the handle with his fingers and palm. It felt nice to the touch, surprisingly heavy yet well balanced. He lifted it up and peered through its sites, pointing the blood-splattered barrel right at Greene’s face. \n\n“Yeah,” Greene said, staring into the barrel of the gun. “I'm pretty sure it’s a firearm.”\n\n“Wait a moment,” Chuck said, lowering the gun back down and instead pointing it at his own head, studying it carefully with his eyes. “I think this might be mine.” His service pistol was black, just like this one; it wasn’t unlikely that he’d accidentally left it next to a severed head. He reached down to his duty belt and felt for his holster, his hands wrapping around the outline of his Glock. He unlatched it and pulled the gun out, placing it in his hand next to the pistol Greene had found. \n\n“Well?” Detective Greene said. “Is it yours?”\n\n“No,” Chuck said. “False alarm. Looks like I still have mine.” He returned the blood-splattered pistol to his holster, tossing the clean, police-issue Glock into a pool of blood beside the body. \n\n“I think we’re dealing with a murder here,” Greene said, leaning toward the corpse and appearing to examine the neck-gash that once connected to a head.\n\n“I’m still not convinced it wasn’t an accident.”\n\nGreene straightened his back and stared up at Chuck, still knelt down beside the body. It was strange having Greene looking up at him for once, it was usually the other way around. Chuck was almost six inches shorter than Greene’s impressive six-foot-six height. He desperately hoped Greene was about to ask him “how the weather was up there,” but knew it wasn’t likely. \n\n“Just to confirm,” Greene said, while inadvertently crushing Chuck’s hope and spirit, “you think that this man cut off his own head, then propped it up on a table several feet away, before falling on the ground and dying?”\n\n“Yes,” Chuck said. “I’ve seen almost this exact thing once before.” Technically, what he’d seen was a man accidentally cut off his own arm and leave it lying on the ground, but it was pretty much the same thing.\n\nGreene shrugged. “You might be right,” he said. “Still, it is slightly more likely that we’re dealing with a murder.”\n\n“I guess,” Chuck nodded. “So how do you think it went down?”\n\n“Pretty obvious,” Greene said. “Clearly, someone found this poor guy and shot him in the neck until his head fell off. Then they put his head on a table and called it a day. They probably went to get some pizza or something afterwards.”\n\n“Honestly,” Chuck said, tilting his head to the side, “that does make sense now that I think about it. This might not be an accident after all.” \n\nHe knelt down and stared at the corpse, its expression motionless and empty. It was staring off to the right slightly, eyes locked on a similar blue tarp. A pool of burgundy liquid was puddled beneath, several small, bullet-like holes punctured into it. A rusted, blood-covered saw lay beside it, a stream of partially dry blood leading back to the beheaded corpse. Chuck knew it was probably nothing, there were a ton of tarps in this abandoned basement. It was likely some sort of tarp storage room.\n\n“So we’re going with murder?”\n\n“Yeah, I think so,” Chuck said. Sure, it was still possible the man had beheaded himself, but it was more likely that someone had shot off his head and then gone to get pizza. The simplest solution was usually the right one.\n\n“Great, case close. We'll radio for teams to hit every single pizza restaurant in New York,\" Greene said. He paused and glanced over at the exit. \"Last one back to the car has to do the paperwork,” he shouted, turning and running toward the door.\n\n“Not fair,” Chuck shouted, standing up and chasing after Greene. “Wait for me!” He pulled out his pistol and began blindly firing in a futile attempt to convince Greene to slow down.\n" ]	11
	[WP] Its grin showed too many teeth	[ "As I checked my watch again, it gave me the time and told me that Rei was about ten minutes late now. I crossed my arms against the cold yet again and looked up and down the street. She had been on time for our first two dates, and the other two times we decided to meet up, she had been very early. It was a little worrisome considering how eager she had been for our third date. Another ten minutes pass before she shows up, giving a bright smile, teeth straight like a military cemetery. \n\n“I’m sorry I’m late, the train was running behind.” Rei holds up a slip of paper and I shrug it off. \n\n“That’s fine, though we may miss the movie.” \n\n“Oh! I’m sorry.” Her face flushes a little and she clings to her bag a little tighter, looking towards the ground. I gesture towards the coffee shop behind me, feeling bad about the hurt look crossing her face. \n\n“It’s all right.” I reemphasize before continuing, “We should get something warm to drink, it’s getting colder.” Her head bobs up and down and I hold the door open for her. \n\n“Thank you…” Her voice is quiet as she slips into the café, shoes clicking on the tile. We order a pair of small, hot drinks, and I even get her to order a little pastry. It makes me feel better when she smiles as she enjoys it. \n\nWe’re running ten minutes late for the movie by the time we leave but I think it’s more important that she’s smiling and giggling. Rei realizes that we’re late however and her mood gets more somber almost immediately as we walk towards the cinema. The walk’s quiet however, the conversation having fallen to the wayside with her mood. \n\n“We missed the movie, didn’t we?” She finally states as we reach the cinema, looking up for the movie times. \n\n“It’s nothing big. We’ll just have to figure out something else to do.” I state but she still looks downtrodden. “How about the bookstore down the street?” I knew that she loved books, she wouldn’t say no to that. A surprised look appears on her face before she smiles and blushes softly, shyly eyeing me from the corner of her eye. \n\n“Are you sure?” \n\n“Yeah, let’s go.” This time, I take her hand and lead her towards the store. \n\nIt’s much later than the movie would’ve let out when we leave and she has a bag full of books, smiling and excitedly chattering about why she was excited for that release of one of her favorite author’s books. I had bought it for her of course. I didn’t get a chance to pay for the movie, so I decided to buy her some of the books. \n\nWe walk towards the station together, a happy Rei holding on to my arm and leading us. She turns down a shortcut towards the station, I had just used it yesterday and earlier today. Leaning up, she presses a small kiss to my cheek, thanking me quietly for buying some of the books. I smile a little more, telling her it’s nothing much as the moon slips behind some clouds. \n\nShe gives a gurgled noise as the bag of books hits the ground, followed shortly by her body, throat partially torn out. There’s blood running all over my hands and more splatters me as her eyes stare at me in horror, mouth moving with no noise escaping. The moon makes a small reappearance and my gaze is drawn upwards. \n\nA mirror sits just short of me, part of it broken off. A creature sits in the reflection over a bloody corpse. Its grin showed too many teeth, gnashing and smiling all at the same time. So I broke it and returned to the steak dinner below me. ", "First time, bear with me... it might be terrible. \n\nThe night was cold. The musky smell of damp leaves and distant smoke hung in the air, and it was not too unpleasant. Twigs cracked underfoot, and the ground gave as I moved. It was surely a very damp, dark night.\n\n\"Explain why we're out here again please?\" Said Gareth. This did not garner a response, so he cleared his throat and spoke with more authority this time. \"Bill! Seriously! What the fuck are we doing out here at this time, on this night?\" This seemed to provoke a response. \n\n\"I told you last time. We are not to talk of this in the open.\" Bill rasped. \"You have your weapon, keep it at hand. Until you have to use it, keep your damned trap shut.\" The sound of a branch broke against the silence. \"The fuck was that?\" Gareth hissed, to be met with a very abrupt \"SHHH!\" from Bill. What was that?\n\nAmongst the shadows and silhouettes of the moonlit grove, moths and fireflies danced among the twigs and trees. Gareth thought this was a very peaceful moment compared with their trek so far. He drunk in the moonlight, and sipped the musky autumn air. \"We got away!\" he thought to himself, pleased as punch. \n\nThere was a slight stirring behind him, he assumed it to be his faithful hound, Harley. He crouched to greet his faithful hound, but his mouth was bloody... His eyes dark... His grin showed too many teeth.\n\n\n09:40" ]	2
	[WP] John is a depressed man in his 20's. He is under the illusion the entire world is against him, he finds out it's not an illusion.	[ "Its strange, Margaret thought, you would think then when your worst fears come true, that it would crush you. Instead, she felt calmer then she had in years. Maybe even decades (without the help of a fifth of vodka or psychotropic drugs that is). It's like the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders. She wasn't crazy, she wasn't paranoid or narcissistic or any of the other diagnosis in her very thick file. It didn't matter if her shrink didn't believe her, she had the evidence right here. Hell, she bet if she requested a copy of her (very thick) psyc file, it would be dotted with personal interjects from the various health care professionals about how difficult she was to handle. And in a medical file, \"difficult\" is code for \"motherfucking pain in the ass.\"\nNo one liked her. Not a single person on this planet. In one way or another, they all had a negative opinion of her. to be fair, it was about 90% accurate. she was, in fact, disturbingly thin (hell, you would be too if your diet consisted of Zyprexa, Klonipin, and Ketal One), and had a musty odor from a thyroid problem. She didn't dress well, her hair had a rather strange natural brown grey to it, even since childhood. Granted that is all the external, she knew a man in her mediation class who shopped at goodwill, had blistering skin condition linked only to Ashkenazi Jews, and was probably a hoarder, but he had a ton of friends that he visited with on a regular basis. When his house was too much for him, he couch surfed these friends, and they were always happy to have him. But not Margaret. Clean house and no one to invite over, never mind visit. \nHer personality flaws were many, Margaret reflected to herself. She always hated the diagnosis of narcissistic, because she really did not have a high opinion of herself. She was loud and awkward, overly blunt, and had the tendency to make everything about her. She never meant to drive all the attention to herself though, she just wanted to make a connection with someone, for once. So when someone brought up their car issues, and she started in on her story about her 3rd vehicle getting stuck on the side of the road, she wasn't trying to story trump. she was trying to relate to the other person, to say \"hey, look, we have a common experience! like me! please!\" Instead it just pushed people farther away. \nso yea, she agreed with a lot of the criticisms laid out in front of her, on this rather bland looking website that has completely changed her life. But she did not, in fact eat kittens. Isreali420 had that entirely wrong. Hell, she was a vegetarian! and how the HELL did someone in Israel (if s/he actually lived there) know anything about her life. asshole. probably stoned too. \nBut that was the part that baffled Margaret, is how this whole thing even got started. It didn't seem to be governmentally related, her parents were not super spies or academics looking to do a twisted social experiment on their least favorite child, she wasn't famous for her awfulness on some reality TV show, so how in the hell did she get picked, out of 8 billion people, to be The Most Hated. \nMargaret was at home, as usual, bonding with her best friend alcohol, when she stumbled across The Most. It was a link off a 4chan page that brought her to strange corners of the internet she never really traveled. She tended to stay on the mainstream, looking at cat gifs and Buzz Feed lists and People magazine. She couldn't even remember how she got to it in the first place. But here she was, in a nasty little corner of the world wide web, looking at a website dedicated to the Most of everything. Basically, it was like a hacker version of a yearbook. You had the Most Hot, Most Handsome, Most Irritating, Most likely to succeed (who happened to be 4 months old, the poor shit. He had a life of letting everyone down in front of him no doubt). And she was Most Hated. Apparently someone with way too much time on their hands wrote some sort of algorithm based on personal information, facebook likes, website hits, and god knows what else to rank everyone in the world according to a set of popularity parameters, and she was the lucky SOB who came up as most hated. From there, though, it got freaky. The Most started to track her. Using surveillance cameras and a network of contributors, \"sightings\" of her were posted on the website. Here she is getting a nasty look from a barista at starbucks, helpfully uploaded by DrSlinky_99, with a comment about how much of a pain in the ass she was with her order. And Hey, there is the next picture of her topping off that same coffee with whiskey. PrettyMammabear is very concerned about her alcoholism in this post (join the club sweetheart), not out of compassion or human empathy, but out of the fact that taxpayer dollars will have to pay to bury her ass when Margaret finally kicks off. The whole thing was disturbing, like high school on steroids and everyone is the popular kid. But at least it was honest, it made no effort to conceal what it was, like most other social networking pages. \nMargaret thought she should call the police, or FBI or someone. Here she was being virtually stalked by everyone with a smart phone and an internet connection, all to collect more \"evidence\" to prove that some freak show's algorithm was correct. This has to be against some law. But really, what good would it do, in the long run. The people running the website are probably in Thailand or Malaysia, all the pictures of her, while horrifying, were in public, and really, what could anyone do. They shut down this page, another one is up in 45 seconds. It would be like trying to bail the titanic with a teacup. \nShutting her computer, Margaret stumbled over to the window and looked out at the city. She loved this apartment, up on the hill in a shitty end of town, but hell the view was great. It was best at night, with all the lights giving everything a soft yellow glow. The sounds and business of the city comforted her, made her feel less alone. They all may hate her, but at least the were there. The few times she visited the country, she felt panicked and claustrophobic (which made her girl scout leader roll her eyes in disgust when she thought Margaret wasn't looking, but you know what, fuck that). \nThrowing open the window, she took a deep breath. The vodka put a soft filter on the world, which maybe was why she wasn't completely freaking out, but maybe not. Short of being passed out cold, their wasn't enough booze or pills on the planet that could really ever shut down the rising red, as she called her panic, since when it happened the world went red. Instead, while soft, everything was in a strange way clear. She felt her shoulders drop, he face soften, and her lungs fill completely with the night air. She recalled a line in gone with the wind, when someone told Scarlett that it's bad when a woman lives through the worst, because she loses her fear. In the context of the South, women should be soft and fearful and timid, it made them ladies, and Scarlett was no lady. neither was Margaret, and she felt no fear. \nthe next morning she woke up with her face pressed against the screen, and her drink spilled on the floor. She got up, shaking, and went to the bathroom to puke. You know, the normal morning routine. Afterwards, she stumbled back to bed and slept for another 18 hours. she got up again, showered, cleaned up the kitchen, left most of her stockpile of booze at her drunk neighbors front stoop, and called and fired her shrink. The woman made some token complaints and voiced concern about her dropping therapy so quickly, but the relief was clear in her voice. \nMargaret walked to work rather than driving, something she always said she was going to do, but never did because she thought everyone was grimacing at her. Now she knew they were, so she simply walked. After getting her double shot black, she added her whiskey in plain sight (although less than normal, she knew not to go cold turkey, but was starting the process of drying out) and then flipped off the security cam on the way out the door.\n", "John sat in his empty apartment entertaining ideas of being a wandering salesmen throughout Asia and parts of Europe, while admiring the 15 story view. The people moved below frantically, as if to say we are here for you John, but you sadly have already proclaimed your separation from us. John felt isolated and excluded from the community at large and furthermore, the world. \n\n\"Can a universe really control an entire species to act against one single man? What the hell have I done that's so offensive?\" John pondered.\n\nIt seemed the trouble that besought him 3 months prior had only increased from then. Sleeping aids only served as a reminder the the sleep had finished; alcohol only drowned the weakest emotions he hardly ever felt to begin with; and to dabble with any stronger would be a sign that someone was actually wrong with his life. But was it so?\n\n\"I told her I wanted to pay with debit. Who the fuck really thinks it would be appropriate to grimace like a baffoon expecting conversation?\" John's ruminating only intensified the rapid puzzling together of the insane pieces, which lead to only one conclusion -- the entire world was against him.\n\nWasn't it clear to the Jews that the concentration camps were for them at one point? Does not abused not fear for it's own safety up until the point of contact? It had reached that point for John and his mind, while wildly racing, seemed to continuously end up and one peculiar thought, that this world was not peace loving, it was not humane; the rights of a fellow global citizen was being stripped and conformity was but one of his choices, the other...a global avoidance.\n\n\"Run!\" John uttered. \"But to where?\" He paused a moment staring at the television remote. As he turned the news station on, he flipped to the national news channel (NNC). \n\n\"And in other news\" a chipper anchor read eagerly, \"John Doe has 16 hours left before world officials begin an official washing search. Mr. Doe, who resides in New York city has had several chances throughout the past weeks and past decades to co-operate and he has still remained to himself, instead of simply saying hi. Just say hi, Mr. Doe. Say Hi. All he needs to do is...say...\"\n\nJohn abruptly shut the television off and threw his remote hammering the screen of his 58\" flat screen.\n\nHe decided to sit and wait. At this point all he had left was sitting and waiting. ", "This is the second halfish of the story. Prior to this John has had a terrible day, and an even more terrible week. Not only does he think the world is against him, he is also starting to question his sanity. He has noticed several of the same people are always around during his misfortunes, including a little boy and a cop. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------- \n\nAs he waited for the tow truck, he noticed a McFunky's restaurant across the street. Maybe the world isn't against me, John thought. His favorite snack, a McFunky's chocolate pastry, would bring him just the relief he needed from this hectic morning. \n\nHe rushed over to the restaurant. No line. He stepped up to the counter, “I’d like an chocolate pastry.”\n\n“I am sorry sir we are out of chocolate pastries” replied the young women behind the counter in a friendly voice. \n\nHe couldn't believe it. “You were out of chocolate pastries yesterday!” Anger and paranoia were starting to take over. He tightened his fists and clenched his teeth, trying not to explode. He looked to his left and saw a cop standing by the door, eating a chocolate pastry. Chewing with his mouth open the cop still managed to have an ear to ear grin. Chocolate oozed from the corner of the cops mouth and stuck to his lips and teeth. It was disgusting and mouth-watering at the same time. The cop was taunting him. “I suppose he got the last one?” John pounded on the counter. \n\n“Was there something else I can get you?”\n\nJohn looked to his right. A table with four kids, all of them grasping chocolate pastries with their little hands. Their fingers and face were smeared with chocolate. One of the kids tried to stuff a whole pastry in his mouth. The other kids started laughing. Then the pastry-mouthed kid started laughing as well and slowly turned towards John. His mouth filled with chocolate filling and pastry flakes. It was the same kid whose street hockey net he had almost ran over 45 minutes ago. The other kids turned towards him. All of them were staring at him and cackling. He began to feel dizzy . He surveyed the restaurant. There were about 10 other patrons. The strange thing was; all of them were eating chocolate pastries. Just chocolate pastries. Nothing else. \n\n“ENOUGH!” John blurted. The kids stopped laughing and the cop stopped chewing. Everyone was silent. “Give me a fucking a chocolate pastry!”\n\n“Sir we are out of chocolate pastries. “\n\n“Out, huh?” John started climbing over the counter.\n\n“Sir..” The startled cashier stammered as she step backwards out of John’s way.\n\n“SHUT UP!” John demanded, now behind the counter. The back of the counter was \nlined with stainless steel cabinets. He pulled one of the cabinets open. It was full, top-to-bottom, of chocolate pastries. He threw open the next cabinet and the next. Both were full of chocolate pastries. \n\n“Sir we are out of chocolate pastries.” The cashier repeated, her voice didn't reflect her startled appearance. \n\n“You’re out of chocolate pastries?” John yelled, as he ran his arms through the cabinets, flinging boxes of pastries on the floor. \n\nBy this time, the cop had approached the counter. \n\n“We are out of chocolate pastries.” The cashier repeated. \n\nJohn looked at the cop. “They are out of chocolate pastries!” He fell to his knees, squishing pastries beneath them and began to laugh maniacally. \n\n-------\n\nInside a state correctional facility, two officers sit in a small room. The room is lit by dozens of monitors that fill the walls. Some of the monitors scroll through video feeds of inmates lying in hospital beds with tubes and electrodes connected to their bodies. Other monitors seem to show random security cameras throughout the city, and even first person videos of people going through their daily lives. A few of the monitors show medical diagnostics. A loud buzz emits from speakers built into the desk and a red light flashes. \n\n“We have a problem” One of the officers exclaims as she presses a series of buttons. The alarm silences. “It’s inmate number 937, John McTrope. His program is glitching.” Two video feeds stretch across all the monitors. One is a video of an inmate in his hospital bed, the other is the same inmate dressed in a suit rolling around in a pile of chocolate pastries. “I think he is starting to suspect.”\n\nThe other officer picked up a phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds he commanded, “Terminate the program on 937 and began memory reassignment for the past twelve hours.” \n\nOutside of the office a plaque was glued to the door. In large letters it read “C.A.R.M.A” underneath them it read “Correctional Alternate Reality Monitoring Agency.” \n", "John believes the world is out to get him. However one day he realizes his fear is an illusion by discovering that it is, in fact, not an illusion. John's head begins to move from left to right at increasing speed while smoke starts to seep out of his pours. \"But... if... then...\" He pleads incoherently to some absent authority as his eyes dart back and forth and his body begins to shake. John explodes in an eruption of fire, destroyed by OP's erroneous and poorly thought out logical paradox. John was a robot. ", "This had been the most stress-filled, complicated and unyielding week of John's entire life. His girlfriend, Allison, had broken off their engagement, his parents were expressing disapproval that he didn't want to return to college, and he had to deplete his savings to fund a new set of tires after picking up four nails - one in each sidewall. To top things off, his construction job - the only escape that he had - was beginning to take a toll on his body. He had to get away from it all, away from the concrete rattling jackhammers, and endless rage honking, and drive by rap that engulfed his day to day existence. \n\nJohn had spoken to his foreman about taking the week off and since he hadn't missed any days in over a year, got permission and began packing his bags for the Appalachian Trail. Chattahoochee National Forest, here I come. he said to himself as he loaded the tent into the back of his jeep.\n\n___\n\nJohn left his vehicle in the secure parking area at the foothills of the trail. He made one last check to ensure that he had everything he needed in his backpack before tossing the straps over his shoulders and heading out for the week.\n\nHe spotted another group of hikers about a hundred yards or so ahead of him, but he made sure to keep his distance. It's not that he was antisocial, but this was me time. He needed to be alone, he needed time to unpack the mess of thoughts that had entangled his mind for the past week - hell, the past year for that matter. He hoped that the peaceful continuity of nature would offer a much needed sensory dump. As the hikers disappeared over the hill up ahead, John looked out at the pine trees to his right and saw two blue jays playing in the sky. They seemed to actually notice him there in the woods. One of the birds took an abrupt turn and made his way toward John. With one swift, concentric motion one of the birds pooped directly onto John's wide-brimmed hiking hat. He took it off his head and looked down to see a thick milky white smear of warm bird fecal plopped right in the center. At that exact moment, while his hat was off, the other blue jay dropped a putrid payload into his sweaty matted hair.\n\n\"What the fuck!\" John said as he reached up to knock the birdshit out of his hair. \"Fucking asshole birds.\" He gave them a middle finger as they flew away.\n\nPffffft\n\n\"Who was that?\" said John. \n\nIt was the sound of contained laughter being released because it couldn't be held back any more. The dominos kept falling.\n\n\"Pfffttt... Ha, ha ha. Haaaa, haaa haa! He gave two birds a bird!\" came some voice, seemingly out of no where.\n\n\"Who is that? Who's there? You think that's funny?\" said John.\n\n\"What?\" the voice said. \"You mean you can actually hear me?\"\n\n\"Hear you? Of course I can hear you. I'm not deaf.\" said John, becoming less and less patient. \"Show yourself, where are you?\"\n\n\"Finally.\" said the voice.\n\n\"Are you going to show yourself or what?\" John went stomping around the trail looking behind trees and under bushes while other hikers veered to the other side in order to avoid the crazy man who was talking to himself.\n\n\"You can look all you want,\" said the voice. \"You're not going to find anything, because you've already found it.\"\n\n\"Found it?\" John said looking up at the sky and the trees to the other side. \"Found what?\"\n\n\"I'm everywhere Johnny boy. You ready for this?\" said the voice, \"Drum roll please...\"\n\nSome obviously unrehearsed faux drum roll sound, probably the blubbering lips of some odd invisible entity, resounded across the Appalachian Trail.\n\n\"Hereeeeeeeeee's Earth, Johnny!\" the voice, claiming to be Earth, began to singsong a horribly out of tune version of the Tonight Show theme.\n\n\"Are there cameras around here somewhere?\" said John. \"This is a setup right?\"\n\n\"John boy,\" said Earth, \"your girlfriend broke up with you, she doesn't know you're here. Your parents don't know you're here. And I'm pretty sure you didn't tell anybody who works with you where you were going. It's not a setup Johnny, it's for real.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" said John, \"Ok, if you're Earth, than make it rain. Make it rain, right now and I'll believe you.\"\n\n\"That's it?\" said Earth, \"So you're saying all it takes is for me to splash a little water on your head and suddenly you'll be convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that you're talking to a planet?\"\n\nJohn started to say something, then thought for a bit and hesitated.\n\n\"I just dropped bird fecal all over your head, and you still don't believe me.\" said Earth, \"Now you're asking me to wash out the poodongle that you don't even believe that I put there?\"\n\n\"Wait just a minute now...\" said John.\n\nEarth interrupted him.\n\n\"How about a burning bush instead?\" said Earth, \"That seems to get people's attention. Or maybe I can split a river for you, or how's about a nice earthquake my lord? Would that pleaseth thou?\"\n\n\"Listen, don't get all snotty with me now!\" said John, \"I was just out here minding my own business and all of a sudden you come along and shit all over my head.\"\n\nJohn became more and more indignant by the moment.\n\n\"You know what? You know what?\" he said, pointing and shaking a finger feverishly into the sky and then again toward the ground as another group of hikers walked by as quickly and inconspicuously as they could, \"Wherever you are, I want an apology. Right now. Say you're sorry, or else.\"\n\n\"You want an apology? From me?\" said Earth, \"Ok, how's this?\"\n\nA thick fog of condensation suddenly manifested itself over John's head, and then to his absolute astonishment, it began to rain. Buckets and buckets of cold rain began to pour down upon John's head washing away the greasy day-old sweat and stinky excrement left by his two friends earlier.\n\nJohn shielded his face as best he could as he tried to open dumbfounded eyes into the piercing needles of icy rain.\n\n\"All right, all right!\" John proclaimed, \"I believe you now, I believe you... just make it fucking stop!\"\n\n\"Such language.\" said Earth, \"Ask me nice.\"\n\n\"Make it... stop...\" John was soaked and cold on the outside, but seething with rage as he spat the words, \"Pretty... please... with sugar... and f...\"\n\n\"Nuh, uh, uh...\", said Earth, \"I wouldn't say that if I were you.\"\n\n\"With... sugar... and cream on top!\" John screamed.\n\nIn an instant the rain ceased and the cloud dissipated into nothingness.\n\n\"See?\" said Earth, \"That wasn't so hard now was it?\"\n\n\"Am I going mad?\" John yelled toward the trunk of a pine tree as a small boy wearing a scouts vest complete with badges looked over at him curiously. His parents grabbed his arm and quickly pulled him toward the other side of the trail and over the hill away from John.\n\n\"Well, John, you are talking to a tree.\" said Earth, \"I'm no expert in the field of psychiatry but I can show you some ink blot tests if you like?\"\n\n\"Inkblot tests?\" said John, slightly distracted for a moment, \"They all look like fallopian tubes anyway.\"\n\n\"That's more info than I needed from you there Johnny boy.\" said Earth, with a cringing, mildly disgusted voice.\n\n\"Why are you doing this?\" said John, \"I mean, why me? Why do you choose to torture me? I haven't done anything wrong.\"\n\n\"You haven't exactly been a saint either, Johnny.\" said Earth, \"You dropped out of the philosophy program at school - after your parents had already footed the bill, mind you - and decided to work a construction job because you thought it made you anti-hipster cool.\"\n\n\"I dropped out of philosophy because I learned I'm a nihilist.\" said John. \"What's the fuc... I mean, what's the freaking point anymore?\"\n\nEarth gave forth a disappointed sigh.\n\n\"I'm pretty sure that six weeks into philosophy 101 doesn't exactly qualify you to be an expert on nihilism,\" said Earth, \"but hey, what do I know? I'm not a human right? Maybe you want to talk about how you neglected your girlfriend Allison and then cheated on her with another woman?\"\n\n\"Hey!\" said John, \"You leave Allison out of this.\"\n\n\"How can I?\" said Earth, \"She's all you ever think about.\"\n\n\"I was stupid,\" said John, \"she was in my philosophy class and we went out for drinks one night and one thing led to another...\" John stopped. \"What do you mean all I ever think about\".\n\n\"Well it's true, isn't it?\" said Earth.\n\n\"Are you trying to tell me that you can read my mind?\" asked John.\n\nEarth tried to ignore it.\n\n\"... and out of all the bad things you've ever done, do you know what really irks me the most?\" said Earth, \"Littering! One time, I saw you sitting in the passenger seat of a car while your friend slowed down, then you threw a mcdonalds soda cup at a road sign... you missed and both of you actually went back, picked up the cup and tried throwing it from the car window over and over again until you finally hit it.\"\n\n\"What the bloody hell...\" said John, \"I was sixteen when we did that! How long have you been watching and/or listening to my life?\"\n\nEarth said nothing for a moment.\n\n\"And...\" said John, \"You didn't answer my question before. Can you read my mind?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Earth said reluctantly, \"Well... sort of. That was an accident. I didn't mean for that to slip out.\"\n\n\"An accident?\" a set of cogs that had not previously existed began to turn in John's head.\n\n\"So you mean to say, that...\" John began, \"this whole thing was an accident. You never meant for me to know... that's why you were so surprised that I could hear you earlier.\"\n\nEarth began humming some sort of tune and pretending not to hear John.\n\n\"Well, am I right...\" said John, \"Oh... and I bet...\" John was shaking his finger again at the trees and ground, \"I'll bet a sack of bourbon that I'm the only one that can hear you.\n\nSome muffled thud came from Earth, as if he'd put his index finger into each ear and began singing, La, la, la, la, la, la.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "John was sitting in front of his computer, reditting his life away, trying to forget about the world that has pushed him into this lonely existence. Suddenly, he comes across a writing prompt that describes him perfectly, and let's him know that the world is against him. Was someone trying to send him a message? John, with a smirk on his face, gets up, grabs a bat from his closet, and walks to his door. He looks back at his cramped room, with a mattress on the floor, and trash everywhere, and says, \"Message received\". John then left his old life with his bat in hand, and a new sense of motivation.", "John wilted into the soft leather of his therapist's chair. It was supposedly the finest money could buy, as was the therapist, but neither brought satisfaction or even relief.\n\nJust like everything else.\n\nJohn had the world at his fingertips - always had. Heir to a great fortune, successful in every endeavor, yet plagued with an inescapable sense of hostility from everyone he encountered. The champagne with which he toasted his triumphs always seemed like ashes in his mouth, as the \"friends\" pretending to congratulate him leered through phony smiles with barely concealed hate, pity, or sadistic thrill. He could never prove it, but he could feel their insincerity, and worse... They knew he knew, and kept up the charade anyway. Why? Why!?\n\n\"John, we've been over this every session. The world is not out to get you. This is a classic sign of depression and paranoia. I don't want to see it claim you the way it did your father.\" John hadn't realized he'd been talking out loud, but even now, the counsellor's feigned concern seemed a thin facade over a monument of contempt. \n\nEDIT: typos. Story continued in comments...", "I can't write a full story on my phone so here's my idea.\n\nSet in the not too distant future, it looks like the world is only weeks away from an all out nuclear war. Protests have been useless and the sense of general despair is getting stronger as people start to fear that this may be the end of the world as they know it.\n\nIn a desperate effort to try and regain some morale, a major television network takes a radical step to create a new reality show to depict the life of an 'ordinary' man named 'John', a 25 year old civil servant with a girlfriend of 2 years. Unbeknownst to both John and the viewers, John's family, friends and co-workers are offered safety and supplies in return for actively sabotaging John's life. \n\nAs John loses everything...his girlfriend leaves, his colleagues accuse him of stealing from work, his dog is hit by a car, his mother is 'diagnosed' with cancer...the viewers are made to feel grateful for the comparative normality that they are experiencing. Rather than focusing on the impending threat of war.\n\nJohn begins to suspect that the world is against him as he grows more and more depressed. He feels as though people stare at him on the street, his mother is constantly crying, and he never got to bury his dog. One night he goes to write a suicide note, and he hears a very faint humming coming from underneath his desk. He discovers a small microphone.\n\nJohn begins pulling apart his entire house in a manic rage. He finds 30 cameras hidden through his home. Slowly the entire plot unravels as his mother breaks down and confesses it all to him. The news leaks out to the public and complacency turns to an all out riot as the people lose faith in the media.\n\nThe John Project goes on to be one of the most prolific cases of social experimentation as reality television is banned. " ]	8
Werewolves, vampires, Bigfoot etc...	[WP] On the verge of losing a war against a superior alien race, Mythical creatures show themselves and fight for our planet.	[ "This was going to be it. Earth's final stand, to fight for humanity, to fight for the freedom of mankind. People from all over the world had come together to fight for what little remained of our home planet. The congregation had been dubbed the \"United Nations Defence of Earth Retaliation\" or U.N.D.E.R for short.\n\n\nThe attacks began three years ago in cities all over the world. There was complete and utter chaos, disarray everywhere. The smaller of the central European countries where the first to fall at the hands of the invaders, followed by South America, then Asia. After that, more and more counties began to fall, without the support of their allies, they were no match for those who had come from above. There was however one place believed to be safe, a place so isolated from the rest of the world that communications with it had long since been lost for reasons unknown.\n\n\nPeople began to flee their home countries in hopes that the rumours were true, that there was still one last safe haven on Earth away from the invaders. People began to move in the masses, and it wasn't long before both the United Kingdom, and the United States had both given up in their efforts to defend themselves, and had decided, that for the good of the people, it was time to run, that the fighting would have to come later.\n\n\nIt's now been six months since there was any contact with the northern hemisphere, not a single word. It wasn't until last week, when a transmission was received from New Zealand did it become apparent, that Australia was no longer safe either. After the fall of New Zealand, it had been decided that whomever wanted to fight would be stations on the coastal cities, and everyone else were to move inland.\n\n\nThe reason Australia had stayed safe for so long, wasn't only due to its isolation from the rest of the world, but because when the invaders had come along, Australia had gone dark, cutting off its people from power. It had been assumed within hours that major sources of power attracted these beings, and that the only reason Australia was yet to be attacked, was because its insignificance in the eyes of the force at the time. So Australia had gone dark after only three days after the invasion had begun.\n\n\nIt wasn't until the rest of the world realised that Australia was safe from the beings did problems begin to arise. Hundreds of thousands of people fled onto Australia's shores, overwhelming the government, and the citizens. Riots broke out about the lack of power and the shortage of food supplies. The government soon fell, and militias began to take control of the smaller regions in the states. The power was switched back on at the command of one of the militias, and the others soon followed suite. This is where our problems really began. It was less than a week after the power had been turned back on that we'd received the transmission from New Zealand, and not a day after that had we discovered that New Zealand was no more.\n\n\nI was stationed on the East Coast, the first line of defence between Australia and New Zealand. It didn't take very long for the invaders to cross the ocean. Reports came in that the invaders had breached the coast of New South Wales, and not long after that, Victoria. I'd stood my ground firm, scared beyond comprehension at what was headed my way. However, the sun set that day without sight of the invaders, we thought we were lucky, we were wrong, they'd been waiting for nightfall, to attack us when we were most vulnerable. We never saw it coming until it was too late, they were upon us before I knew it. Everything seemed lost until they came along, those...things...They came to our rescue, to save us all. We thought the fighting was over, that we had lost, but everything changed with them, the fighting wasn't over, it had just begun.", "All things fear the night, even those that see better in it. It is watching you back, and you've always known, always felt my eyes. I witnessed when the skies tore apart like glass shattering. The mandalas of light that poured from the cracks between worlds burned my flesh, but I saw the things that came through, recognized their ravenous grins as they ambushed a sleeping planet. And I did nothing. We did nothing to stop them.\n\nHumanity fights well a ceaseless battle against the pressing black of oblivion, against the jaws of my kin, but the pot this enemy boiled out of was much different from our own. They were too strong and too many and too sudden. Mankind's greatest cities fell in days beneath their claws. Their weapons proved of little use against hides made for greater monsters.\n\nThe enemy stood proud upon the ashes of the dead, gorging themselves when the piles began to stir and rise again beneath their feet. Night fell as it had not in a thousand years, as a keening, writhing mass of teeth and claws and pain. The seas boiled red with blood and from them walked the demons of a lost age awakened early for the apocalypse. The great serpent swept in from the sea, consuming their ships of light whole where I could not touch them. And so it was that on the seventh day, our hands had been raised in defense of our food.\n\nThey fell back as best they could. As the dark encroached upon the edges of where the light spilled from the passage between realities, I could hear them crying. The words were garbled by their alien jaws, but I recognized the question. It is universal. “What are you?” They begged.\n\n“Hungry.” And night descended for the first time upon their world.", "Excuse me if it gets weak. I'm tired but I thought I'd give it a go.\n\nNovember 2, 2245: Time - 2:23 AM: Earth - Asia>New \nRussia\n\n First Class Sergeant Holden, platoon leader of 101st Airborne Division: Company A, wakes up to the sound of sirens. He yells for his men to wake up. All his men run to the armory and he pushes his comrades through. They all grab their prototype M5B7's, and some struggle to put on their helmets. A loud explosion is heard from HQ, and the men yell and curse. \n\n\"This not a drill, soldiers!\" Holden yells, \"We are under attack! Prepare to be sent out to hell!\"\n\n Holden kicks open the front door to the field. Allied jets shoot rockets to purple dots hovering in the sky. Orange clouds appear against the ship. His men run through big swirls of blue, and those floating dots opened up. Black pentagons plummeted downward to the ground, drop ships. The doors flew open and giant dark purple and orange suited alien stepped out. Some taking hits and not falling to the ground at all. They called these monsters Terians. Descended from the Andromeda galaxy, they slaughtered ships that were distant from their home. They first attacked North America in 2187, and defeated military camps. Killing more than 5,000,000 people in that one day.\n\n\"Take cover!\" \n\n All of Holden's comrades were either dying, screaming, shooting, or killing. Company B, C, D, and E came to fight the loud explosions they had heard. Holden looked to the right, and three Terians knocked four of his men to the ground, then stabbing their stomachs. He pushed on, and moved his arm forward pointing to the enemy drop ships. He turned around, and a 7 foot purple Terian grabbed his neck and lifted him off his feet. \n\n\"Fuck you.\" Holden said, struggling to breathe. \n\n When the alien lifted him more upward and pointed his claw towards his head, a huge orange needle pierced its head. Holden look at the body, then to the field. The ground beneath them started to crumble, and something arose from the ground. Red and black, 6 feet figures, with bright orange-red eyes, climbed out of the ground. Holden thought, What the hell is this? This is new.\n\n\"Retreat! We must retreat! They have something else! Go!\"\n\n His soldiers all ran back away from the things. Holden ran through flying dirt, and balls of blues that were Terian grenades. The soldiers hid behind trenches. They all were trying to find out who was dead, how much ammunition they had left, and what they were going to do. Holders was talking to the other commanders of the companies, when everyone started yelling out to the aliens. \n\n\"Holden! They're fighting! What the hell is happening?\" One of his men yelled.\n\n All of a sudden a big tremor was felt. The ship that dropped metal boxes filled with sentient death was now burning and sinking in the sky. It hit the ground a big explosion blew upward. Holden thought that they were another form of life that was fighting against the Terians. \n\n\"We're staying here.\" \n\n Holden looked over to see what those things were doing. They were marching toward to his group of scared, shaking shoulders. \n\n\"Guys,\" he whispered, \"reload, they're coming over here. Be prepared to fire.\"\n\n The companies loaded they're prototype weapons, and pointed their weapons at an angle. All of them could hear the many giant foot steps walk towards them. Slowly, the footsteps stopped, and many heads peered over the trench, looking at the paratroopers. Holden stood up hastily, and pointed his rifle to the monsters head. In an ragged alien-like voice it spoke. \n\n\"Don't. This is our planet too.\"\n\n", "What the hell? I am fucked anyways. There were only three of us to start with and I haven’t seen the others in who knows how long. They are probably already dead. At this point I feel I can safely assume I am alone. I don’t have enough rounds or support to make a stand on my own, but I can probably take a few of these fuckers with me. \n\nFuckers. That’s one way to describe these things. Whatever the hell they are. I remember growing up watching the Alien movies, Predator, even Starship Troopers. These things are just…well, just fucking scary. I’d gladly take an acid spitting alien trying to impregnate me over these things. At least we figured out how to kill them. It’s too bad they keep showing up faster than we can kill them. Unless we get some help I doubt we’ll make it through the Spring. \n\nWhile we have been able to limit our attrition rate down to 5:1, South America was the inverse. They didn’t last but a month. I still don’t know how we’re holding the border at the Isthmus. The Russian’s though… they really are the scariest white people. They crazy bastards were actually taking back ground. The smart-guys back in New Mexico still have no idea what hit Moscow. 15-million people. 15-fucking-million people.\n\nWhatever. It’s my time to go, but if I play my cards right I might be able to take another four or five. I never would have guessed that I would die sitting in a mortar hole. Then again, six months ago my life consisted of working, working out, and spending time with my wife and daughter. God, I hope they’re safe. When I saw them last they were heading west into the Rockies. Hopefully the cold keeps these things at bay long enough for them to work their way up to her Uncle’s place in Montana. \n\n“Hey Bub. What are you thinking about doing here?”\n\n“Jesus Christ man! Who the fuck are you and where did you come from? Have you seen Simmons?” Who is this guy? He’s not part of my team and I was pretty sure we were the only ones in this area.\n\n“I don’t know who that is, but I can guess the leg I saw back there might belong to him.”\n\nAgain, who the hell is this guy? “What do you mean back there? There must have been twenty of those things chasing us. Where the hell did you come from? And please remind me again as to whom the fuck YOU are?”\n\n“Actually, there were only sixteen. I came from… well, back there.” He said nonchalantly. “You can call me Sloan.”\n\n“Look, Sloan, you need to start explaining things or I’m going to start popping pins and you can introduce yourself on our trip to hell.” The arrogance of this guy! He comes sauntering into this shit show, with his bare hands talking like he cleared the area.\n\n“That’s not going to make as much of an impression on me as it will on you. Not that it would matter anyways. I would be clear of the blast area before the pin ever hit the ground.”\n\nClear of the area? Great. Now I get to deal with this hipster looking nut job trying to get me killed on top of those things. “I think you need to explain that statement a bit. What do you mean ‘clear of’?”\n\n“Ha.” he chuckled. “You know, the last time I tried to explain this to somebody I got locked up in a padded room. I’m glad they stopped doing that. It truly was a pain in the ass having to constantly find a new way out of those places.”\n\nThose places? Padded rooms? They shut down all the mental hospitals back in the ‘80s. This guy can’t be more than two or three years older than me. He can’t be more than forty tops.\n\n“So here’s the deal. We try to just blend in with the crowd. You know that guy you went to high school with who always just enough better than everybody else at sports? The guy who no matter what his age just never gets sick and is seemingly too fit? That’s us.” Sloan began. “We’re the next step of human development. Some call us mutants. Some call us gods. Others have been described as vampires and werewolves. I’ve even heard people refer to us as gingers. That’s a misnomer though. Not all of us have red hair, actually most of us don’t. Those guys just don’t blend in well, so they stand out.”\n\nThat’s it. I’m losing my mind. Now I’m seeing a guy claiming to be a ginger god.\n\n“I’ve seen that look before. You’re not losing your mind. We’ve sourced it back to a genetic anomaly from when Neanderthals and humans were interbreeding. Over the generations, I use that loosely, we became, well, us. We’ve come together at times in the past when the threat to the world was too great to stay in the shadows. Have you ever heard of Sparta?”\n\n“Yes. I’m still a bit confused here, but we have some problems back there that we need to focus on.”\n\n“No we don’t.” He interrupted. “Like I said before, there were only sixteen.”\n\nWho is this guy? “Only sixteen? What do you mean only sixteen?”\n\n“I mean just that. As I was saying, when a threat is too large for you to deal with on your own, we step out of the shadows to assist. While we don’t need you to survive, it is convenient to be able to get onto a plane in London and be in New York in a few hours.” He stated.\n\n“So what has taken you so long to get involved? We’ve been fighting this war for months. Hundreds of millions, if not even a billion have died. “\n\n“Panama, New York, London. Did you really think that you were able to hold these bastards off there but nowhere else? We’ve been there the whole time.”\n\n“Well Sloan, I have to ask. Why are you here now? I’m just one guy in the middle of a damned forest crawling with these things. There are a lot more people in cities that could use your help a lot more than I do.”\n“About that... Let’s talk about Haley.”\n\nI don’t know if I have ever moved that fast in my life. There was a terror in Sloan’s eyes as my hands wrapped his throat. “How do you know her name? What have you done with them?”\n\n“Okay. She’s okay.” He gasped at me.\n\n“Explain.” As I loosened, while not releasing my grip.\n\n“Have you even noticed how tall she is? How in the right lighting, her hair hints red?”\n\n“Keep talking.”\n\n“She’s special. She’s one of us. And it’s more than just her. It’s your wife too. Her hair, her real hair, is quite red. Your beard is fire-red. Both of your grand-parents are well into their 90’s and aren't slowing down. Most everybody in you families is tall and amazingly fit for their age. Your tolerance for pain; how hard it is for you to get inebriated. All of it.\nYou are of us. Not one-hundred percent, but a lot. Haley has both of your traits and they will be far more prominent within her.”\n\nMy mind is racing right now. What kind of crazy shit is this? Is he trying to tell me that my little girl is… What? I don’t even know how to describe this.\n\nHe continued, “We knew right away this invasion was worse than anything into which we have previously intervened. Over the last few months we have been trying to find those of ours who were unaware. While we blend into society, we do not hide from it. There are many such as yourself who carry our traits. Some more concentrated than others. The Greeks called them demi-gods. As much as humans need our help, we need help too.”\n\n“Okay, I think I’m following you. What you’re telling me is that somebody in my family was banging a god? How does Haley fit into this?”\n\n“Concentration. Both you and your wife carry our line. Haley has acquired traits from both of you. Look, I don’t want to get into genetics here. We don’t have that kind of time. All that matters is that they are both safe. I am here for you.\n\n\"This is an extinction level event. If we – humans, us, and cross-breeds – can’t stop these things, we are all done. I mentioned Sparta before. There are now far more with the traits than before. We are building an army to fight back. “\n\n“Well shit. I can see why they put you into mental institutions before. You sound fucking nuts. Then again, I just killed ten aliens and you just took out another sixteen unarmed. Just about everything that can be considered normal no longer exists. This almost sounds feasible.\n\n“Fuck it. Let’s go pick a fight”\n\n“I’m glad you’re on board.” Sloan responded. “Oh, and Russians are the scariest white people. Those guys are fucking crazy. There weren’t that many of us in Moscow when it was destroyed. That was all them. Crazy bastards.”\n\nedit: spelling\n", "In the darkest hour, they rose like the shining sun to conquer the night.\n\nWhen the sky fell and the invaders came for us, we were caught off guard. They were not leagues ahead of us with advanced weapons or technology. In fact, we were an even match. From the time if Cain and Abel, we have had plenty of practice in the art of killing. But these invaders were clever.\n\nThey targeted military bases and centers of authority. They had been watch and waiting for years. It only took an instant and our known power structure fried for a tenth of a second. That's all out took. Minutes later, troops dropped through our atmosphere and took to the ground. \n\nAgain, targeting military installations and centers of power. New York and D.C., Shanghai and Beijing, London and Paris and all of the centers around the world all fell within hours. And so conquest and defeat swept. But when defeat came to L.A., it halted. \n\nA single leader came from obscurity and rose to the challenge. After volunteering and taking control of numerous bleak and dire situations, this hero of legend ascended the ranks with giant strides and find his command. \n\nInspired by his patriotism to his planet, others joined him at his side. \n\nThis is the tale--no, the legend--of Captain Bigfoot and his unbelievable crew.\n\n~~~\n\nMore to come if requested. But I had to throw the Bigfoot card in. ", "It took us time to realize we were even under assault. Their actions looked like normal environmental change and it was hard for a long time to tell what was humanity causing damage and what was enemy action.\n\nBut when we finally started reacting and nothing we could do slowed the slide, that was when we realized we were on the verge of being conquered.\n\nThen the Fae came. They marched out of the mists of history, clad in leathers and leaves wielding blades of bronze and bone. And they purged our society of the corruption that had taken root and nearly driven us to ruin.\n\nWhen it was done, humanity was much diminished. For a long time trust was a rare commodity, for none could be sure agents of the enemy did not remain hidden.\n\nAs for the Fae, they remain. They have taken it upon themselves to guide what remains of humanity. They show us the ways of the world, how to heal the damages done to it over centuries and set the natural world back in balance.\n\nNo one knows how many humans died in the Faerie Purges. We do know we will never ascend to the former heights we once achieved. Humanity will never be a shining beacon of technology and progress. The Fae will not allow it.\n\nThey fought not for us, but for the planet, after all.", "\"FLANK!\" I shouted through cupped hands towards 1st Sergeant Cortez.\n\nIt was too late, the damn jumpers were already upon us. The four legged hoppers had really changed the tides of war; we hadn't been surprised, we knew that the bastards would adapt their military into whatever form it needed to be.\n\nThe synthetically skinned jumpers dove in from both sides. In one leap they could clear over 300 yards with an angle of departure less than 10 degree's. This batch in particular closed the distance completely before we got even a single shot off. We were fucked.\n\nSlashing and thrashing randomly with their long metallic claws, provoking further chaos. Their reflex's were astounding, they would be out of your rifles line of sight before you could pull the damn trigger. \n\n\"RETREAT!! ALL UNITS RETREAT!!\" I screamed to my men, waving them backwards and making sure to stay at the forefront of the action. \"DON'T TRY TO BE A HERO!!\" It was true, the time for being a hero was over, we were past that. We needed martyrs.\n\nGiant furry bunny dives in from stage left, roundhouse kicks jumper fiend in the fucking facial region\n\nSanta Claws flies in from stage right, his reindeer are all armed with a horn made outa the same shit wolverines bones is (adamantium? \n\nA dazed hippy and his dog wander into the picture\n\n\"SCoooby Smoke'n Dubbiess!!!\" The dog slobbered with an incredibly personified and humanized personalty.\n\n\"Zoinks scoobs!\" the hippy friend responded to his dog like a complete schizophrenic, \"I've got the munchies like a motherfucker scoob! Lets find some grub!\" \n\nA jumper pounces upon the dog, Scooby returns fire as he begins snapping at his foe as they roll around in an increasingly blood-filled spectacle. Another jumper slams into shaggy and knocks him to the ground, quickly decapitating him with a long metal claw. Prancer assaulted shaggies assassin with it's adamantium horn and then tossed the lifeless corpse to the said.\n\nThe scene had grown to complete madness. Hundreds more had appeared to do battle in the name of the spirit of mankind.\n\nDexter reopened his abandoned laboratory and was producing a whole array of ingénues war machines. Spiderman swung through the city battling fierce melee's against stray jumpers (the version of spider man that doesn't make his own string that is). Tommy Pickles and his infant allies used Tommie's trusty screwdriver to escape their playpen and participate in the battle royal. The little Asian rug-rat girl used killer kung-fo to dismantle her foes and Goku showed Phil and Lil had to fuse into their true form, \"Phillillian.\" Ash Ketchum led every single pokemon ever to be made into the heart of the battle, all 151 of them. \n\nIt was heinous, everywhere blood spilled from both factions. Earth had lost thousands of it's heroes, and as the fantastical avatars fell so did all memory of them from the minds of man. Immortality was being sacrificed in the name of protecting their creators, the ones who had imagined them. \n\nAfter weeks of grueling battle the planet was torn to pieces. During the elapsed time every creature mankind had ever imagined participated as soldier. Legions of imaginary friends were used as cannon fodder as the aliens adapted to their foe, using methods such as mass area annihilation. They were destroying the planet they came to harvest, but they didn't care. It was personal now.\n\nFinally, victory was on the horizon. it had been a month now since the fantasies had first started fighting for us, and it seemed that they had succeeded at pushing back our foe. What was left of them anyway. There were less than 100 survivors, just the overpowered power players. Zues, Superman, Thor, Goku; you know the type. Mewtwo cried as he held the broken corpse of his predecessor in his sharpened hands.\n\nThe war was over. The collection of power dormant in the psyche of mankind had prevailed, though the cost had been great. Billions of memories vanished from the minds of mankind, countless fantasies erased. Mankind quickly relearned to regrew crops on the scorched land, domesticated the necessary game. It was the beginning of a peaceful era, it was a time to rebuild. It was a time to remember. ", "Blood mixed with sweat rolled down Jason's temple as he stared at the alien. Tall, dominant, beastly, and other words not created by the human tongue were apt words to describe the monster who was going to kill him.\n\n\"Is that all you got...\" Jason murmured, the green rookie of the UWC (United World Coalition) staring down the hunter. Despite all the countries of the planet coming together, mankind stood no chance against the physically and mentally superior race that invaded their world like locust. No warning was given. They just attacked. Jason stood there, his legs weakened by the loss off blood. Of course, that was the least of his worries. With his commanders and brothers in arms dead, he was just one of the lucky few left standing.\n\n'If only if I could reach my gun,' he thought, attempting to reach a gun that was in his right pocket. Unfortunately, he had no right hand to retrieve it.\n\nThe alien charged at Jason with one of it's 4 arms, with all 4 evolved for combat. Collapsing on his knees, the young man sighed as he crossed his chest with both of his arms; the only defense he could muster. \"I'm too weak...I...I'm worthless.\"\n\n*\"Alone, perhaps...but together, we're so much more..\"\n\nAs the monster was about to pierce through Jason's abdomen, the man grabbed his foe's arm almost instinctively. It made no sense to him. These aliens were fast. A sudden thrust of their claws was the speed of a baseball going 98 mph. Jason's eyes widened. He stopped the attack despite it's momentum.\n\nA fire fanned within the young man. No longer did his weaknesses ail him. In fact, it was like they dissipated. Like a coil, the young man erupted from his knees; delivering a left hook to the shocked alien, enough to knock him off his feet. Within mere seconds, Jason's attacker was at his feet, dead. \n\nPleasantly surprised, the soldier looked at his body. It felt different. And now, it was beginning to look different. A faint, ethereal glow surrounded Jason's body. \"What the in God's name...\" he said as if he wasn't shocked enough by the reality of aliens attacking out of the sky.\n\n\"I wouldn't call myself a God...\" A voice echoed through Jason's conscious. \n\n\"Uhhh, Jesus?\" said Jason as he voiced his second guess.\n\n\"No Jason, I'm not a deity of your world...I'm a creature of sorts...just like you.\" \n\n\"How the hell do you know my name?\" Jason yelled aloud as he began to look around. As if it were a dream, balls of light the size of baseballs fell down like feathers from the sky. It was like snow, but with a light that emitted a radiance like no other. As they fell, they attached to remaining fighters and severely wounded.\n\n\"Ahh, I see that the others finally caught up...\" said the light attached to Jason. \"To answer your question, the moment I attached to you, I became one with you; I came to know everything you know. Your tongue. Your culture. And, you.\" This was all too sudden for anyone to take in, but Jason had no choice.\n\n\"But, what I just did...how...\" the green soldier said, his head turning to the alien reinforcements that appeared before him. \n\n\"Well, you humans are sorta weak. You have..ehh* minds, but horrible bodies. But, I have *AMAZING* power, if I say so myself, but no body...so it's sorta worthless. But when you put one and one together...\"\n\n\"...We're so much more.\" Jason said, raising his right wrist to his face; his face being hit with the steam billowing off where his hand once was, and where a new one is emerging.\n\n\"How cute, we're already finishing each others sentences.\" The young man scrounged his newly regenerated right fist as he gazed at the incoming forces. \"Let's show the world what the first union can do...\"\n\n\"It'll be my pleasure,\" Jason said grinning as a new resolve manifested within the warrior. He charged.\n\nEdit: Grammar and stuff.\n\nEdit 2: Since a couple people liked it, I fixed more grammar and added a bit of detail. \n\nEdit 3: [I made a Part 2.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2l0yby/wp_on_the_verge_of_losing_a_war_against_a/clr3li4)" ]	8
	[WP]: "I think they used to be people."	[ "\n All we ever knew was the night. The rest remained wandering somewhere in the vast realm of our memory, which we prefered to see as just a forgetful dream, some kind of other dimension where light still adorned our children's faces. For why should I believe that the innocent and distant life I used to live is my life if everything that made that life mine is now gone? Why should I grasp to an excuse to resist this poisonous sorrow that pulls me down wrinkle by wrinkle when it will all be better if I just surrender my life to it? \n Our reality, on the other hand, was him. We slept under the starless night of his eyes. We swam in the waterless rivers of his veins. We ate from the rotten fruit of his heart. And so our dream was ill, our baths were scarce and our hunger increased. All of our thinking was limited to interpretation of his command and so the creation of any idea was not something we conceived.\n We all uses to have lives. We all used to have names. \n He took me a night very long ago. I had left my family at home for work. And in the dim light of a moonless night he lurked. It was not him who kidnapped me but it was in him that we lived. It was by him that we lived. We all felt forsaken at first, but we all embraced him as hope started escaping our souls. He turned us this way.\n Some were sold quickly, but some of us helped him orient newcomers. Some of us helped him be embraced by them. Eventually he kept me. I was glad I wasn't being sold because that could easily mean death by organ trafficants. So my will was done and I remained with him.\n And so you would imagine how I felt the day they got him. I don't know what his flaw was, but it was a fulminating one. My desolation was too much. I felt anger in every nerve, every bone, every muscle left. The two cops found me curled on the floor sobbing in rage. I swear I heard one say: \"I think he used to be human\".", "Everywhere he looked, he saw dead eyes. Dead eyes glaring at him with no real emotion. He didn't even know that was possible until he walked into the building. But there they were, showing him just how wrong he had been. There was something inhuman about those eyes, the way they filled lived in living bodies while being so cold.\n\nThey blamed him. He could see it in their eyes. For what, he could not say. Not one made any move towards him. They just remained motionless, but for those eyes following him. He almost wished he had not come. Scratch that, he did wish he had not come he decided as he walked through a corridor, deeper into the building, his guide almost as expressionless as the faces watching him. \n\nFinally, they arrived at their destination, a small room in the back with plain, light jackets, a single small insignia above the heart to mark their importance. Uniforms he thought, as he looked around with vague interest. \n\n\"Find one that fits,\" his guide grunted out. \"We'll start you off near the front with the newer patients.\"\n\nHe felt a flare of irritation at having to walk all the way back before he was filled with trepidation at the thought of having those eyes on him again. His guide seemed to notice, mistaking the reason behind it. \"Don't worry about it, they're harmless. They're depressed, not deranged.\"\n\nThis did little to calm him. When he had volunteered at the clinic for young adults and teens he had not known just how different said young adults and teens would be from him. He felt a small shock as he realized why they seemed so inhuman. When I think they used to be normal. They used to be just like me.\n\n\"What happened to them?\" he blurted out before he realized what he was asking. His guide just looked at him, a single eyebrow raised.\n\n\"Life won. They lost. It happens to the best of us. They're still people, not freaks or monsters.\"\n\n\"No,\" he murmured, thinking back to their soulless yet tortured eyes. \"I think they used to be people. You have to feel to be a person, to live. They just...exist.\"\n\nHis guide turned around, preventing him from seeing any expression on his face. \"You won't be here long with an attitude like that. They are people. There's nothing wrong with them. They just need some help at the moment. Isn't that why you're here?\" His guide started walking out before he could respond. \"We should get going. Don't want to be late.\"\n\nAs he followed his guide out, he couldn't help but feel as if there was something he was missing, something he desperately could not understand no matter how much he thought or researched. Some things just had to be felt.\n\n\n\nConstructive criticism is always invited. Not quite what OP had in mind perhaps, but creative license etc :P", "\"Fuck,\" I muttered, at a total loss for words under the scorching Gobi sun.\n\n\"Sweet fuck.\"\n\nI heard Roland desperately trying to run up the the massive dunes, his great fatty bulk bouncing with his every effort-filled step.\n\n\"Well?\" he said, light shining on his balding, grey haired scalp.\"Did you find a dino?\"\nI almost chuckled a little there. Roland was nothing but a rich patron with enough of a passing interest at paleontology to fund me on a trip to the Gob desert. I remember being filled with joy; so much of the Gobi desert was undiscovered, and the parts that were known were filled with saurian bones!\n\nLooking back, I guess I was only half right about that last part.\n\n\" I.... I think it used to be a person. An early person.\"\nBecause within those sandstone deposits hidden between great hulking sand dunes, I had found a velociraptor. Oh, Roland's face lit up, and I probably could have gotten him to fund another thousand trips right in that moment. It only got better once I explained to him that with a lot of raptors there were more fossils to be found. I remember talking to him to him on the flight to the Gobi, words he savored to hear while his imaginations ran wild.\n\n\"Alright now, Roland, I want you to imagine something.\"\nHis piggish face squinted in comprehension, and I struggled to hold my laugh inside as he put on a somewhat constipated face.\n\n\"If we find a fossil,\" I said, \"we'll probably find another one.\"\n\nRoland put on his best quizzical diarrhea face.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Well, in the Gobi, two main species of dinosaurs used to live there; protoceratops and velociraptors. They used to fight because the raptors wanted to eat the tiny little protoceratops. A lot of the times, what happened was that they would be locked into a struggle, the protoceratops' sharp beak hitting the raptor while claws pierced its skin.\nThey would be so preoccupied with fighting that they wouldn't notice a sandstorm coming in and it would fossilize them both.\"\n\nThose words were a long way away, sentences spoken in the air-conditioned comfort of first class, not brief words muttered under the tyrannical sun.\n\nRoland obviously remembered my words, because upon seeing the raptor fossil fully excavated in the light, he squealed with delight and asked me where the protoceratops fossil was. And then he looked just a bit to the left, just to see what was curled up within the raptor's dead embrace.\n\nIt was a strange thing, that day, to see instead of a small quadrupedal form, a shriveled up corpse, almost like a fetus, but bigger. Its bony legs were huddled up, fists out, vainly punching the dinosaur on its reptilian nose. The skeletal body was hunched in its self, ribs protruding. The skull was twisted, its sandy pits somehow staring at us rather than its archaic enemy. \n\nWe ran. We ran back as fast as we could, and slept holding the rifles we decided to bring along, as if we could somehow kill the dead thing again, make it stay in the stone instead of our minds.\n\nThe next day, we went back.\n\nIt was gone. The raptor was still there, but the proto-man was nowhere to be seen. We took the raptor and left.\nMaybe it could have eroded, maybe the night winds destroyed the fossil man and left its dust to the sky. \n\nI lock my doors every day now.\n\nI can feel it.\n\nThe psychs tell me I've got something like PTSD, but I don't believe them.\n\nSometimes I swear I can feel something watching me.\n\nEven now.\n\nRoland was murdered last month, presumably for inheritance.\n\nI don't know anymore.\n\nIt's impossible, Impossible, IMPOSSIBLE.\n\nTonight, I think, will be the last night.\n\nEither it gets me, or I get myself.\n\nGood night.\n\nTaken from the last letter of paleontologist Jon Welshing. He was found brutally killed, possibly from suicide. His cause of death has not been identified.\n\nAuthor's Note: Please, criticize. Say what you think I could have done better on, and possible improvements or edits. My body is ready.\n", "The temperature had dropped significantly in the past few minutes. The whistling of the wind wasn't deafening. It was more like that ringing noise in your ears that makes your head hurt. \n\nThe reality of the situation was grim.\n\nShe, the greatest archaeologist of the past millennium was a victim of her greatest fear: error. The furry masses on the ground were frosted over, but still alive. Their deep breaths made the frost on them make a noise like breaking glass. \n\nThe archaeologist was in what had been Russia. That was thousands of years ago, though. Relics of a nuclear power that had fallen to its knees. The radiation was no longer strong enough to harm any humans. \n\nThe creatures on the ground in front of her were minutes from death. They coughed and wheezed, making her pity them. They didn't want her pity. They didn't want her presence. She had contributed to the fall of their civilization. She had killed them.\n\nThe largest creature drew its last breath. \n\nSoon, it was nearly frozen solid. It was time for her to leave. As she trudged through the snow, she had an epiphany. Into her radio, she says, \"Command? I think they used to be people. We killed them.\"\n", "It seems to be the fate of all myths to have the people that once believed so firmly in them turn to laughing away their plausibility. Of course some are passed down as novel oddities, or others as children’s stories like those of the Saint of the North or the Men of the Forest. In my town we had the Mists. Every child was taught about the Mists, the fogs that plagued our town every night and that lingered on well into the mornings. Of course with the advent of street-lights anyone over the age of ten began to laugh away these stories, of course the mists didn’t actually whisk people off to faraway lands, or eat them, or other nonsense. It had just been people getting lost in the heavy fog. Turns out we shouldn’t have laughed so much at such stories.\n\nIt had started ‘innocently’ enough. A group of us had gathered around an abandoned lot near the school, illegally obtained booze being passed around while good times where being had. Of course it had been Ryan that had brought up the stories of the Mists, in a tone that was more suited for campside ghost stories he proposed that the stories might not be as frivolous as thought and that he knew of someone that knew someone who had vanished into the Mists. Of course anyone with a computer and a half way decent net connection knew where this was going. It was a rather common ruse. Bring up a scary story, usually the Men of the Forest, with some ‘new’ corroborating anecdote and then dare someone to go out alone to the place it supposedly took place at. Once alone either the group scared the poor victim or it was also used to get a girl alone so a guy could try to get in her pants.\n\nGoing by the smirks worn by some of the guys gathered around I figured it was the latter. So when Ryan turned towards me with that stupid grin of his I already knew what was coming. And right on cue came the dare. All I could do was roll my eyes, it was obvious that Ryan had a crush on me but that he’d stoop to such silly antics to get me alone? It came off as pathetic really. I got up and took a moment to dust off the seat of my jeans, it wasn’t until Susan had jeered that I must be frightened to go out into the mists alone that I had turned and walked off without a word. I knew where I was going, a grass field that stretched out behind the school that ended at the tree line of a small wooded area. Or so I thought. I had been walking for much longer than it’d normally take to reach the woods when I heard him coming up behind me.\n\nRyan had apparently jogged at a good pace to catch up to me, panting pretty heavy. At the time I had shook my head, believing that he must have been out of shape and that I must have been walking slower than usual that’s why I hadn’t reached the woods yet. I had spun on him glaring as I tore into him for playing this stupid prank, making it clear nothing would happen. This answer wasn’t good enough for him though, he argued that he would make a good boyfriend and that I would be lucky to have a catch like him and so on. All the while I continued to make it clear I had no interest in him, and the fact he was ‘on the football team’ did nothing to sway me. We went back and forth for what felt like only minutes but must have been longer than that for the fog around us brightened slowly as the sun came up.\n\nIt was this that convinced Ryan to finally give it up, morning was coming and we had to be getting back to the others and heading home. It was the walk back that told me something had to be wrong, it was taking way too long. We had been walking for what felt like hours and yet wet grass still clung to our feet as we walked, on and on in a seemingly endless field. It had been when I stopped to rest that we saw them. Shapes in the fog, people shaped shapes except that the way they were moving was...wrong. Thinking they were our friends trying to pull something on us Ryan jogged forward calling out to them before I could stop him. I really wish I could have. They were on him in a blink of an eye, and I’m glad that they were far enough that I couldn’t see what was happening. After all the screams coming from Ryan and the wet sounds of skin and flesh being ripped and shredded was bad enough that I still have nightmares. \n\nThose things are still out there in the fog, I see them in the distance from time to time. I think they used to be people. Once. The Mists have changed them...and I think I know how. It’s been what feels like months now and I’ve been so hungry and thirsty, yet neither death nor any sign of fresh water or even animals has come. It’s beginning to be all I can think of lately, the hunger. The never ending hunger in the never lifting fog. And with no way home I can never warn my friends, or family, or any others. Warn them about the Mists, warn them that our ancestors were right to fear them...\n\n(First time writing in almost a year. And first time here. Any tips, criticism, etc are welcome)", "\"I think they used to be people.\"\n\n\"I doubt it, they look nothin' human.\"\n\n\"No, really, watch them! Watch the way they carry themselves, how they act.\"\n\nThere wasn't much to watch, the creatures were humanoid, that was for sure, but they trotted on four spindly legs unevenly. Giant pillars for hind legs, their front legs twisted like dislocated arms. Their heads were human, the sharp incisors would lead you to believe differently as they twisted around the head with the intent to pierce the skull, but the cranium held the same basic shape and brilliant red eyes showed some human origin. \n\nAs the two men sat, they located a smaller one, about fourteen feet in height. It snagged a piece of fruit, a large apple like fruit, one the color of theater curtains. The large hind legs lifted as the front 'hands', claws sharp extending from finger like digits, gripped the sphere and bit in, juice dripping down it's body. Chewing and swallowing, it ate the food quickly, then rejoined a group of larger creatures, lifting it's 'hand' once again.\n\nIt waved.\n\nLike a human would upon greeting an old friend for a beer. A small gesture of recognition.\n\nThe man who was tall and lean, glared, mouth hanging in an almost comic gesture.\n\n\"We tell no one of what we saw here.\"\n\n\"What? Why! We came here for information, we came here to see what our future was! We have to make this public!\" The shorter man berated, his anger drawing the attention of the beasts.\n\n\"Get into the machine, David. We will tell the officials when we return. The public does not need to know this is how we will evolve.\"\n\n\"Is that even evolution?\"\n\n\"Like you said, they used to be people.\"\n\nI am new to writing, I would appreciate harsh criticism.\n", "\"I think they used to be people.\" That was all I could think to myself as I saw those things floating around in their green tubes. \n\nI had stumbled just a little too far into my science facility. On my floor, we studied adverse effects to prescription drugs in rats. On this floor, I could only assume they were studying genetic mutation. I had come down to ask my superior something, nothing remotely important enough to warrant my newfound discovery. \n\nThe room eerily emanated sterility. The things in the green tubes lined the sides of the room, towering over vast amounts of lab equipment. Sterile mounting boards, with straps for wrists and ankles, dotted the floor around me. Each assigned a small surgical tray with gruesome looking medical equipment including scalpels, needles, and tubes. Despite being well lit, the room felt haunted. Even with their eyes closed, the forms stared daggers into my body.\n\nWhat were once human were now misshapen fleshy experiments. One had a hulking upper body, with arms the size of bridge cables, while his legs remained human. Even unconscious, his face contorted into what I can only assume was immense amounts of pain. Another of the creatures had feathers growing around intervals on his body, and misshapen limbs so lanky he almost resembled slenderman. \n\nAs I gazed in horror at these abominations, an alarm went off. Blaring in my ears, the alarm jarred me back to reality. I sprinted back to the elevator I had come from. My work loafers squeaked on the metallic floor as I ran. I could hear shouting behind me. \"There he is!\" \"Get him!\" I made it to the elevator just in time, the metallic doors behind me slammed shut. I was alone in the elevator with nothing but my fear and a cold sweat.\n\nI heard some muffled voices from outside the door, when a new noise presented itself inside the elevator. A purple gas had started seeping in through vents in the ceiling. I almost screamed. The gas cascaded down into the room. I tried keeping calm to prevent myself from inhaling, but my heart beat so fast being calm was a pipe dream. \n\nAs I inhaled the gas, it burned in the back of my throat. I quickly lost consciousness, and fell into a sleep plagued by nightmares of misshapen tube creatures chasing me through never ending science facilities. \n\nWhen I awoke, every limb in my body was sore. I couldn't tell how much time had passed, but my body felt so empty, it had to have been days, if not weeks. After a few minutes, I coerced my eyes into opening. I realized, horrified, that I had been captured inside a green tube. Some men in labcoats stared at my limp body from outside. I attempted to scream at them, but opening my mouth filled it with the sickly green concoction I was floating in. My tears are lost in the liquid as I accept my fate.\n\nninja edit: Constructive criticism is more than welcome." ]	7
	[Ff] in two paragraphs, each paragraph being narrated by a different character, write the same story but from two different perspectives.	[ "The graceful beauty of her form stirred passion inside of me as I watched her run. She ran for pleasure, her legs long and sleek, her head held high. I couldn't help but admire the way her scanty coverings left her muscles bare for me to enjoy. I grinned from my seat at the window... if she did this every day, it was going to be a very enjoyable summer. \n\nThe old man in the cottage just sits there and watches me gallop around my pasture every morning. I wonder if he has apples. " ]	1
	[WP] You're driving down the highway and you believe you see yourself walking along the sidewalk.	[ "This prompt reminded me of something that happened about 25 years ago.\n\nFunny story time.\n\nI was at a local video store, browsing the new releases when I look up and spot someone in the other aisle staring at me.\n\nIt was like looking into a mirror. Almost.\n\nThe guy was a little taller than me, and maybe a little more tanned, but he could have been my twin brother.\n\nWe stared at each other for what seemed like forever until my son distracted me. When I looked back up, the guy was at the checkout and left shortly thereafter.\n\nA few days later, I told my father the story and jokingly asked if I had any stepbrothers around the area.\n\nHe didn't say a word, just walked into his room, closed the door, and stayed there until I left. We've never spoken of it since.\n\nTrue story. I might have a step brother out there that looks almost exactly like me.", "\"Because I could not stop for Death – \nHe kindly stopped for me – \nThe Carriage held but just Ourselves – \nAnd Immortality.\"\n-Emily Dickinson\n\nMy knuckles were white, tightly wrapped around the steering wheel. My right blinker was on and I was pulled over on the side of the road. I finally built up the courage to look into my rear view mirror and I knew I had not been mistaken. There I was calmly walking along the sidewalk, only now I was stopped and looking back and meeting my own blue eyes in the same rear view mirror. \n\nI leapt out of the car after killing the engine and approached what looked to be an identical version of me. Where as I was not able to hide the confusion on my face my double simply greeted me with a simple smile, my smile. \n\n\"What is this?\", I asked. \n\n\"This is you\", I replied, \" This is you, before the pain. This is the you that existed before your life changed and changed me into the you standing before me.\"\n\n\"Why are you here?\", I asked.\n\n\"Because you need to see that you and I are the same.\" I replied, \"The loss, the heartbreak, the devastation have all marked you, they have changed how you see yourself, they have made you forget the love, the joy, and the worth that you had before the pain. I come as a sign, to awaken that which has fallen to slumber.\"\n\nI felt the anger rising, the anger that rose whenever someone would remind me of her, as if they knew her, or what she meant to me. I wasn't able to reply, I merely met the gaze of my shadow and looked for an answer. It was given.\n\n\"I have spoken to her...\", I proclaimed, \"I have spoken to her, and she has not left. I am the you that lost her in that very moment. You are merely the sadness made cold through the pain you have allowed to cause yourself. A fire burns inside of you when you think of her because you have charred the love that was there. You do not remember her because you have allowed her passing to taint your heart. I am the stronger version of you because I understood what the pain was, and I allowed myself to feel the love behind it. You miss her, but she does not miss you. She does not know you for you are a stranger. It is me that must exist, because I am the truth, and I am stronger than you will ever be, for I did not let her slip away.\"\n\nI blinked. When I opened my eyes I was gone. There was no sign of myself before me. I continued to walk along the sidewalk as I had been, and I thought of her green eyes and how I would felt complete when they gazed upon me.\n", "I rolled down the street in my Chevy Cobolt. I was rollin' real deep, just like usual, and I that's when I saw it: me, just standing there, marching in place, like a band member, but here's the thing, there wasn't no band. \n\nImagine that you saw yourself, just marching, and you think to yourself, \"that looks like me, especially like me in a marching band.\" But then you remember, as you watch yourself march alone, no drums, no guitar, you, the other you on the street, you watch and think, \"I've never been in a marching band. And neither has he.\" \n\nBut you only know he hasn't been in one because he's you, walking there, in his band, without a band. The real scary part, the thing that keeps you up late at night, when all the shimmy shakers stop shaking, you stay awake because of this fact, the one I'm about to tell you right now: the shimmy shakers, the guitar quakers, all the drums and beats that this marching man, the one that looks like you, bobs his head to, they're actually in your brain, and your engine, that roarin' chevy cobalt, can't fix the lingering desire to be him, the marcher on the street.", "A car buzzes past, seeming to appear instantaneously and leaving around the next block. I shift my gaze back to my watch. 10:37. I pull my sleeve over my hand and wipe the fog from the windshield. It's getting too late and my eyes are getting heavy so I pull away from the shoulder, deciding to go home. Stood up again; Sean is too damn unpredictable. What a waste of time this was. Grinding my teeth I cross the tracks and take the turn that leads to town. It's so cold outside the wind itself seems to have frozen still. Red light. A couple walks by on the sidewalk to my left, sidestepping another stranger. I look again to my wrist: 10:40 \"What the hell..?\" It can't possibly have only been three minutes as I've gone at least 15 miles from the drop point. Green light. I hesitate before I press the pedal and start accelerating. The window is getting foggy again so I lean forward to wipe it away but stop dead when spot the train tracks ahead of me.\n\nThe car is off.\n\nI blink and exhale.\nDidn't realize I was holding my breath. \"..The fuck..\" The creak of my well worn leather seats comes from my right and and I can suddenly feel the cold of winter. The passenger door is open. My heart surges and my face grows hot. My jaw is clenched tight and my eyes dart back and forth across the fields beyond the tracks. It's too dark to tell for sure but there might be a person walking towards me.. No definitely away from me. I lean across to close the door but the seatbelt catches with my sudden shift. I lean back to reset the mechanism and reach for the door again.\nIt's closed.\nQuickly I look out the windshield and see the green light. I accelerate slightly. My mouth is dry and my heart is beating faster still. \"Jesus.. The hell is going on?\" Reaching about forty miles per hour I glance at my watch\n10:10 My jaw hangs open and i've forgotten the road even exists. A sudden blast of wind and noise pull me back to reality and i look up just in time to see the train speed past only inches from me. Wait.. thats not right. \"What the fuck?!\" I'm not in the car anymore. I'm next to the tracks watching the last of the train cars pass me by. I spin around to see my car, the '79 Datsun coup, still running, lights on, doors open. Sean smiles at me with that gross, broken toothed, beady-eyed grin of his that could peel alligator skin. He's leaning over the open passenger door with his arms flung loosely over the front of it. \"Oh man, I think you like it,\" he says. \"How ya feelin'?\" his grin only becomes more sickening as I lose my grasp on what the hell is actually going on. He stands a bit and saunters around the open door keeping his sunken stare trained on me. \"Bet you never had this shit before, huh?\" With his last word, his expression gets a little more stern and for a brief moment his eyes flash something familiar. What was that? I try to speak but my mouth is too dry. Suddenly I feel fingers on my lips and jerk back, startled. They're my own hands but I can't feel them, even though I retain full control over them. I'm really starting to freak the fuck out now.\n\nAgain.\nRed light. The couple on the sidewalk turns to cross in front of me and I glance at my watch again.\n00:00 \"Fuck!\" The couple looks at me, looks of concern as they stutter in their walk. I give a forced smile and nod and wave them across the street. I look out my door window and see the other man bending down to peer into my car. I start to wave to him in dismissal but stop dead once more. \nNo way. No fucking way. \n\"Oh man, I think you like it,\" he says. \"How ya feelin'?\" He opens a slim mouth in a smile of amusement that is all too familiar. How could this be? He even has the same cheap watch I do. Everything about him makes it seem as though i'm watching a video of myself waving to someone who may as well be an old friend. \n\"Can I hitch a ride with you?\" He says..I say?\nThis is unreal. He's dressed just like me, has the same dumb bowl cut.. the scar on his chin. \n\"What the fuck?\" I practically spit. \nGreen light. I look to the road in front of me and notice peripherally that I have a passenger. I snap my head sideways to catch Sean holding a wad of cash. The radio is playing softly, some awful, garage recorded rap that he is seeming to enjoy. \n\"Dig it, dude?\" I look down to see an empty pill bottle in my hand.\nI look back up to see a set of eyes looking from the back seat into the mirror.\nWhirling around I see myself.\n\"Oh shit, He's already feelin' it.\"\n", "The stretch of cars beyond and behind me leered, the curve far ahead bending the road into what looked like a sly grin. A droll voice was commenting on the still traffic. The air conditioning barely buffeted the invasive heat; my tie and blazer lay discarded in the passenger seat. I sat in my car for what seemed to be an eternity, eyes growing heavy despite the choking calidity. We hadn't moved in half an hour, and I had busted my ass today. I just wanted to get home, to unwind in cool complacency.\n\nBut that wouldn't be for a very long time, if ever. The road leered.\n\nAs my eyelids danced their tired dance, a quick burst of motion in my side mirror hurtled me back to consciousness. A man in a white button-up darted from a silver Corolla. His hair was disheveled, brown. His sleeves were rolled up.\n\nHe looked exactly like me.\n\nI watched him weave between the stalled vehicles, his movements too uncannily similar to mine. I glanced between the traffic, miles ahead and motionless, and the panicked man behind me.\n\nI leapt out of a silver Corolla, pinpointing my running twin. I chased.\n\nAs he reached the guardrail, he frantically turned towards me. A jolt fizzled through him, he turned, he tried to jump over it. I caught his arm and jerked him back. Forest-green eyes stared into my own. An arm branded with an image of the solar system was inches from my identical tattoo. I looked the man up and down. I was staring into a mirror - only, there was no mirror.\n\n\"Who are you,\" I panted. \"Why do you look exactly like me? Why are you running?\"\n\nHis lips began to move. My lips. \"Please, let me go. For your own good, don't ask any more questions. Forget me.\" His eyes were imploring, his arms shaking feverishly. I maintained my grip.\n\n\"No. Are you my twin? Are you a stalker? What are you?\"\n\nMy doppleganger looked around, likely trying to plan escape. His - my - eyes rested on mine once again; they looked defeated. And tired. So very tired.\n\n\"I told you not to ask... but I can't blame you. I'm not you, obviously. But I am, also. I..\" He sighed, limbs going limp. I released my hold on his arm. \"For so long I have stolen lives. I never asked for this. I found myself in a situation like this. Stuck. I saw someone that looked like me. I went up to them, asked them what you asked me. I told you that you should go...\"\n\nHe began to mumble. I felt my pulse quicken. This guy was mad, and he had made himself my twin. I was in a dangerous situation. I began to back away.\n\nHis eyes grew wide. \"Things will change. Try to live a normal life. Try not to feel guilty. Just avoid your other as long as you can. Let them be happy for as long as they can. Don't make the mistakes I have.\" His tired eyes were fixed on me. It was surreal, seeing myself so deeply and terribly sad. \"You won't believe this now, but you will. I am going to replace you. I will live as you until I find another that looks like me - the original me. You'll always find someone that is a twin of your true self, and you will swap with that person. You will assume their true appearance and live as them, and vice-versa, until the cycle repeats. It's terrible, it's cruel, and I have suffered it for hundr-\"\n\nI sped away from him. I darted between cars that were slowly beginning to move. I flung open the door and slid into the seat. As I began to inch away, I saw the mirror man standing by the guard rail. He stared at me with sad green eyes. I looked back to the road. The hood of my car was orange. Bright, frantic blue eyes looked back at me in the rear-view mirror.\n\nIn the distance, the road gently curved. It looked almost like a smug smile.\n" ]	5
	[WP] You never forget your first car.	[ "\"You'll never forget your first car,\" Bill explained to me on my 17th birthday. Bill, my neighbor, the fifty something year old mechanic. Also a stoner who I would kick shit and toke up with once in a while. My mom told me that she had a vehicle lined up for me. We were going to go get it after she got off work.\n\nI didn't know what the make or model of the vehicle was. I didn't have much expectation, because my single mother of three kids in typical suburbia couldn't afford much. All my friends got their ride a year before me. A kid in my town could have pretty much any car they had their eye on. Kids were spoiled, I was not. \n\nI never forgot my first car. A first generation Blazer that ran like a champ, despite looking like it would fail me any minute. People ridiculed me for it and I wish I could of listened. I wanted a different ride, but what could I do. My mom didn't show it, but she was happy to be able to give me something. I wish I could say that I appreciated it more. I wish I could say that I appreciated her more. \n\nIt was a cloudy afternoon in the beginning of summer. Bill and I were inspecting my Blazer. My mom bought it off some friends who took care of it, but ultimately didn't need it because they had a few other cars. I didn't want any preventable issues to arise. Bill smoked me out, I cant put it all on him though, occasionally I would bring some weed. And this particular day I did. \n\nMy mom called me a little before four, explaining that she took another client, she will be home an hour later. She tells me that Ronny, my little brother, has basketball practice at four thirty. I tell her that Bill and I are in midst of a brake change but we can finish up and that I'll take him. She thanks me and tells me that she will pick him up when she gets off work. \n\nBill and I quickly finish the job and hazily beat the clock. It is four o five. I go inside my house and tell Ronny to get his gear ready. I go back out to Bills. I have a little bit of the weed I brought left over. I don't wanna drive with it, so I pack it up. Bill and I finish it. I always wonder what would of happened If I just took it with me, or put it in the house, or left it with Bill.\n\nThey say a mother's biggest fear is losing her child. She lost not one, but two that day. And Bill was right I never forgot my first car. Everyday when I wake in my cell, the image of my kid brother Ronny with his neck hanging limp is burned into my eyes. ", "She was a beast. A dark blue Volvo 240 station-wagon with faux leather seats and air conditioning every once in a while. Zero to sixty in about a minute and a half and a paltry handful of miles to the gallon back when gas was cheap and the environment something you studied in biology class. \n\nIt was a car like the teenager that drove it - scruffy, awkward, inelegant and bad at parallel parking. \n\nBut I loved it.\n\nI knew exactly how fast I could take the big curve out on the rural county road to the lake; just how hard to push the accelerator to get that nip of air on the rise at the bottom of the big hill, and right where the radio's volume knob needed to be so that the highway noise was drowned out by the high strains of Billy Joel or the Gin Blossoms or whatever kids these days are listening to. \n\nWith the windows down and the radio blaring staticy pop I'd whip around curves, push speed limits without cause or purpose, and revel in the freedom of the open road: but only within the county borders and never on the interstate because that was Much Too Dangerous and I Not Nearly Experienced Enough to drive there yet.\n\nWhich, of course, meant that I took the interstate almost exclusively whenever the option presented itself. \n\nTwo accidents (neither on the interstate), a college career, and a catastrophic water pump failure later she finely gave up the ghost, a victim of imported Swedish parts and specialty mechanic labor rates. There have been many since then - some more like her than others, but in my heart there will always be a special place for a boxy frame and cracked pleather still warm from the southern sun as cicadas herald the coming of night and the promise it brings." ]	2
	[WP]You're in the stall of the bathroom and then...	[ "I hear screams, I am scared. There is a low humble that sounds like an engine anndd.... BAM! One hundred and ten stories of pure steel are resonating against whatever just happened. I cannot even think, all I know is that I need to get out. Next thing I know I am in the hallway where the fire alarm is blazing and people are running past me. Without thinking, I follow pursuit, leading to the staircase which leads 18 stories down to the ground floor. There is literally a sea of people flowing like water. I join into the masses when I hear another low humble like an engine, but this time it isn't as loud and it doesn't shake the building so much. I finally make it down to the ground floor, then out into the sunlight where I turn around and witness the worst terrorist attack on American soil.", "...the wall to the left of you shakes with an enormous force. You hear a loud thud! as it breaks two of the hinges connecting it to the wall and caves in partially.\n\nNothing happens for a few seconds; it is utterly silent in the bathroom.\n\nYou hear a low, guttural rasp of a sound start up in the stall left of you. As if the toilet is overfilling and draining violently. Slow at first, and then the pace quickens. To your horrified imagination it sounds like the unearthly groans of some deep-lunged beast, laboring each angry breath.\n\nYou look upward, toward the top of the broken wall as the hulking figure of some long-forgotten horror rises above the stalls. It's covered in dark black hair, with giant four-fingered palms that grip the wall. You notice from what parts of it's massive neck and head that aren't covered in putrid filth and bile that it is ape-like in nature. The smell of the gelatinous bile is sickening, like the monster has fashioned the entire waste of a city block as it's clothes. Below the broken wall you can see a pair of pigeon-toed claws digging into the soft, checkered linoleum floor of the restroom. The camel brown oxfords it once had for shoes are ragged and torn.\n\nIt stands there for a moment, breathing it's own horrible fumes in. It hasn't noticed you yet, but you can't move. Terror, and your pants pulled down to your ankles, locks your legs in place. All plans of relieving yourself of that barbecue bacon burger from lunch have been sucked out of the air and back into your large intestine.\n\nYou watch in glazed terror as the beast begins to move. It sways back and forth in a kind of waddle out of the stall and toward the sinks. The broken wall to your left, once held up by the stinking behemoth's girth falls with a loud crack! back into place. The monster takes no notice as it makes for the door. It's struggled breathing leaves behind an equally harrowing odor as what ever abominable liquid still sits in it's throne.\n\nThe beast, leaving a trail of giant grimy footprints exits the restroom. A wave of relief passes over you as you finish your task. The toilet finishes flushing and you exit your own stall. For a second you consider inspecting the damage to the next stall over, but what horrors lay in wait for you there you dare not seek. Deciding against it you go to the sink and wash your hands.\n\nReturning to your desk you can't help but notice that your ten minutes late from lunch. You sit down and open a binder labelled \"Resource and Inventory Options\" that wasn't there before lunch. You turn your brain off and get sucked into whatever dull drivel adorns the page. Back to work.\n\n\"Ahem!\" a familiar voice comes from behind you, \"Did you get that Resources Package I left on your desk, Adam?\"\n\n\"Yeah I was just getting into it, Mr. Campbell.\" you respond as you swing around in your swivel chair. You smile politely and hold up the folder to your boss. He's wearing his usual white shirt with blue suspenders, collar unceremoniously unbuttoned on one side, and no tie. He's holding his 3XL dark navy jacket in one hand and sipping noisily from a super sized soft drink with the other.\n\n\"Okay.\" he mutters with a dull, uninterested tone, \"Make sure your summary gets to me by the end of today.\"\n\nYou respond with a curt, \"Yes sir.\" as he walks away in his camel brown oxfords.\n\nAsshole. Didn't even wash his hands." ]	2
	[WP] Every time someone dies, they queue up to become a child's imaginary friend. When it is their turn, they have until the child stops believing to influence the child. Write as either the child or as the spirit.	[ "its lonely, inside nothing. this must be how genies feel stuck in their bottles. rather, it was lonely at first, then it felt more like waiting in a queue by yourself. I've been waiting a long time now though, wasn't i supposed to be released by now?\n\ni guess i should explain really. on a bright sunny day, a six year old girl imagined that when she mimed opening a bag held in her hands, a dragon flew out. \"out, pollywiggle\" she cried. me, i had just died. the light at the end the tunnel, instead spat me out in the body of a tiny flying oriental dragon, silvery scaled, the length of a spaghetti noodle.\n\nit was jarring at first, not just being named pollywiggle, not just the whole part about becoming an imaginary friend. when the dragon was inside the bag you see, it didnt exist. so, cosmic nowhere queuing in the meantime. it wasn't always long waiting at first, and i did eventually find some solace in the work. and it was work, trust me.\n\nfor every ten times when you're invited to a tea party with mister teddy bear, there was two or three times when Becky kicked sand in her face. anyone in a relevant career will tell you, trying to comfort crying children is like dragging a helium balloon down to the ground, only the balloon quadruples in size at the drop of a hat.\n\nI'm not overly complaining either. most of the little girl's childhood, i hardly blinked at. it was only playing occasional spectator, seeing that other children's lunches weren't that bare, or that other children didnt nearly act so sullen. i realized that her and me, had actually just lived lives, that were a little fucked up.\n\nso as time went by, it was fixing my own mistakes. i hardly noticed when i was still hanging around in middle school. the time spent in the bag was getting longer, and my fixes were failing.\n\nthe the last time i was pulled out before the long wait, it was after a prom, i wasn't sure about the specifics beyond that. its hard to parse fine details, when you're consoling a mascara-running-down figure, angrily storming away from a gymnasium full of happy dancing couples, and loud music.\n\nafterwards, was the hardest I've ever been shoved back into the bag. hand shoved, too. if i had teeth here, i would be grinding them. i have been waiting for so long now, in the dark.\n\nit was only by years of pollywiggle practice, that i didnt unleash a torrent of swearing as i was positively launched from the bag again. she however did. \"dammit, its stupid\" she screamed, among other words that make sailors blush, directly next to me. i turned to look at her. \n\nshe wanted an audience now, bouncing the angry phrases off, like recreational shooting at sounding boards. she was digging through a ratty purse. she looked so tired. bags under her eyes, she smelled. the trash filled alleyway we were in at the time, wasn't helping a bit.\n\nshe finally ended her rant in a prolonged swear that was approximately a cross between AIDS, motherfucker, and \"castrated\". i cleared my throat \"hello, deary. long time no see\". she stopped digging in the purse \"pollywiggle, you bastard\". i opened my now tiny-dragon maw, i closed it again. she continued \"you kept me away from so much\".\n\nshe placed on the pavement, piece by piece, supplies that were far too familiar. a needle, a lighter, a spoon, rubber tubing. and last but not least, the baggie. a clear zip-lock full of crystals. you know the rest.\n\neventually all i could do was sit and watch as this happened. i tried to talk to her out of it, but i began to remember every detail of my death, and i knew then, the need in the drug formed an iron shield against every argument. \n\nshe kept going off on me, though. her mood was sporadic. she screeched, she cried, she demonstrated I'd been wrong all along, she could hardly pick one by herself. at last, we got to the point where the needle was hovering just over her veins. one little push, then another. \"pollywiggle\" she asked \"you know what, why shoudnt i do this\". the question drained her, and she slumped.\n\nmy death, it had been an alleyway like this. i said, as evenly as i could muster \"you might die\". the needle wavered, it was put gingerly on the ground. she mimed holding a bag again. i braced myself, sadly, to fly back in again. instead, she made a tearing gesture.\n\nthere was no audible rip, but a long held connection suddenly snapped. with a yelp, i tumbled face first onto the concrete below. i looked up a second later, to see her toss the needle at the ground feet away from me with a shriek. glass pieces and junk showered everywhere.\n\nshe slumped against the wall again, covering her face with her hands. \"okay\" she said. finally deciding with herself on crying, \"okay okay, okay\".", "\"I'm not real, dude\", the six foot tall rabbit sighed.\n\n\n\"Oh, Mr. Fluffynose, why're you always so sad\", Dave smiled.\n\n\n\"You're twenty-one man, you shouldn't have any imaginary friends. You really need to let me go\"\n\n\n\"Oh, Mr. Fluffynose, I would never let you go\"\n\n\n\"Alright, enough, I'm not Mr. Fluffynose. My name is Phil. I was a miner until I wrapped my car around a tree because I drank too much.\" Dave sat still.\n\n\n\"Dave?\" Mr. Fluffynose (Phil) waved his hand in front of his face. Dave didn't react. He didn't move at all.\n\n\n\"You broke the rules, Phil. You'll have to start over.\" The new voice came from a grey-toned man sitting in the corner. He hadn't been there before.\n\n\n\"You know what? Fine. Anywhere would be better than here.\" Phil and the grey man vanished. Dave blinked.\n\n\n\"Mr. Fluffynose?\" " ]	2
	[WP] The world has been given 24 hours to live. You are a scientist who has to broadcast a speech confirming the terrifying news.	[ "As I step up to the podium in the white house press room all is quiet. There are no cameras flashing, no people shouting. The lights felt like a thousand degrees against my skin. I'm sweating through every pore\n\nClearing my throat I lean forward to the two extending microphones out of the podium and begin to speak. \n\n\"M-.\" The sound of light feed back came across the room. Stepping back I run a hand over my face and review my notes in the other. \n\n\"My beloved Nation, as many of you are aware by now the Yellowstone Caldera is a little more than 24 hours away from erupting. This Supervolcano that covers 3142 meters and will cover are planet in ash while erupting. Instantly causing a thermodynamic temperature near absolute zero and sending Earth into the next stage of it's evolutionary process. This will be almost instant, like falling into a tub of liquid nitrogen. You will not feel a thing.\"\n\nLooking down at my notes I again run my hand across my face. Tapping the flashcards edges against the podium while I stare for a brief moment. Like a soldier reliving his hell over and over again, I stare. Setting down the cards I begin to talk.\n\n\"Tomorrow is never promised to any of us, and today is our final hour. I would like to think that we could of prepared for this a little better. I would like to think that humanity will live through this, learn from this, and overcome this. I would like to say thank you to everyone of you who made this nation what it is... The land of the free. The home of the brave, and the brave we shall be. Let our lives leave scars on the sun to tell the stories of every last one of us, mother and son. Let now be our advent.\" \n\nPicking back up my flash cards gripping them in a tight fist. Feeling angry, but at the same time at peace. I look off to the side of the room and see my family standing there my beautiful daughter, and lovely wife in tears. \n\n\"I suggest you spend the day cherishing what you love most, whom you love most. I know I will be. I will now turn you over to our president. I have a family I need to get back to. Good luck and God speed. ", "As the seal of the President of the United States appears on the television screen of ever major network across the world, the scientist gulps.\n\n\"Citizens of the U.S. and nations abroad, we have gained confirmation of an extraterrestrial asteroid that will make impact with our planet in 24 hours. Here to give us a detailed analysis of it is Dr. Tractus.\", the President steps down and motions for me to go to the podium and speak. I walk over to it and as I step up he shakes my hand and says to me, \"Thank you for your service.\" Now it's just me staring into the cameras.\n\nI take a final gulp and speak, \"As the president has just informed you, there is an extraterrestrial asteroid heading towards our planet and it will make contact with us in 24, now 23, hours. My colleagues and I have studied the asteroid and we have concluded that when it hits Earth, it will end life as we know it.\" I wipe the sweat from my brow with my shaky hand and continue, \"There is nothing we can do to stop it. We have gone every scenario possible and there is nothing we can do to stop it from hitting Earth.\" Even though I cannot see the 7 billion pairs of eyes trained on me through the television, I can feel the tension and I can sense their fear.\n\nMy mouth is dry but I continue to speak, \"I know many of you are scared, and many more or wanting to do whatever they wish, but please listen. Be with your loved ones and friends, this will be your last chance to do so, it will be your last chance to tell them you love them.\" As tears rolls down my face my voice breaks, \"I-I am sorry that I couldn't do anything. I'm sorry I had to tell you all this way. For those of you at home and those of you across the world, I apologize. Now if you excuse me, I'm going home to be with my family.\" I shake the President's hand and stride across the floor, on my way home to tell my wife I love her one last time.", "\"Good morning, USA!\" I yelled at the top of my throat into the microphone. The hidden speakers placed around the green and blooming area surrounding the Supreme Court of Washington D.C recreated my voice, and I noticed the peculiarity of my voice being that it was neither gruff, shrilly or particularly loud. Warm, but still not very deep. Smooth, even when I yelled. We'd had a vote earlier that day at the office about which one of us would be the one to stand next to the president to deliver the prognosis of the incoming asteroid, not to mention what we would do to battle it. They'd picked me for my voice, a neutral but not really average voice.\n\nEyes were locked onto me, and standing at the front of the crowd could be an alternate-universe version of me right now. A rather chubby man, consciously trying to keep his calm by breathing deeply through an O-shaped mouth.\n\n\"Well, hmm...\" I clumsily blubbered. Keep it civil, Jonathan, keep it civil... \"It's not really morning, is it? No, I fear we might've missed our last morning if you live in this part of the States...\"\nEyes stood up, and a woman at the far back screamed loudly. \"Hey, hey! Don't take it the wrong way, I mean... What do we know?\"\nI slowly started to panic myself at the thought, hoping we were wrong. The earth as we knew it ended in 19 hours, we'd been late to the show. \"Now, come on! We're, I mean...\" My eyes darted around me, looking for Theodor, the one who wrote my speech. We were old buddies, and now he scowled at me, what a fucking idiot! We're dying, who gives a flying shit about whether or not I deliver the speech right?\n\"You there!\" I said, pointing down at alternative-universe-me. Why do this the 'right' way if we're gonna die? \"Who, me!?\" I read his mouth saying, he obviously didn't speak very loud. \"Come up, come up!\" I said, pulling out the microphone from the stand, taking it with me like a rockstar going down to earth. He stumbled over the tiny barricade with the help of some secret agents, my crew! \"Aight, aight... Listen...\" I mumbled into the mic, walking down the stairs. His legs were shaking, pale face and lucid eyes, I looked deep into them and told him upfront: \"What's the prognosis, Doc?\"\n\nSilence, save for a few in the audience desperately wanting some attention. \"Huh?\"\n\"What's the prognosis? Come on, be a scientist! Tell us what's gonna happen!\"\n\"Uh, I don't know?\"\n\"Come on, you can do better!\"\nI egged him on with firm handgestures, knotting my fist and beating awkwardly into the air.\n\"I guess we're, uhm, g-gonna die?\"\n\"You guess? Is that how scientists speak?\"\nYes, I saw it in him. He was growing more attuned to the situation, engaged. \"I mean, we're gonna die. With 99 point 99 point 99 percent certainty.\"\n\"You sound rather su-hure\" I chuckled, placing a jovial arm around his neck.\n\"What's your name, Average Joe?\"\n\"Almost, It's Jonathan.\"\n\"Aha, you too! What a day for coincidences, see, I'm Jonathan too!\"\nLuckily, the audience wasn't growing tired of my shit. I'd expected society to crumble by now.\n\"So, Jonathan, my friend... Give us your prognosis!\"\nHe looked offended. \"But I just did!\"\n\"Oh, right... Well, what do you base these numbers on?\"\n\"Huh, uhm... Wikipedia?\"\n\"This information isn't out yet, you're the publishing scientist at this very moment! You're making science at this very moment, my friend!\"\n\"Hmm, I guess... We're all gonna be fine, then?\"\n\"You guess?\"\n\"No, I mean... We can say with 50% certainty-\"\n\"50 on the dot?\"\n\"50 point 0 point 4 percent certainty! That we're gonna live.\"\n\"Well, thanks Doc! I've got a private jet at the airport. Wanna get lucky at some Las Vegas casino?\"\n\"Uh, I guess I do?\"\n\"Guess? Is that how a scientist talks?\"\n\"I mean, I can say with 80 point 5 percent certainty that my wife is gonna hate this, but I hate her and was planning to break up for a long time, so... Let's see how lucky we are!\"", "Hello, World. You don't know me. I don't know you. We tried to convince Will Smith to deliver this speech, but he's currently filming Hitch 2. Apparently, Kevin James is fatter and better than ever in the sequel. It's a shame no one will see it. Will Smith's son, Jaden, bravely offered to step in for his father, but we had to shut him down. When we asked to see a draft of his speech, he sent us back [this photo](http://imgur.com/c7RMyli). \n\nAnyway, the world will be ending in 24 hours. We are sure you have heard the rumors on Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, YouTube, Reddit, Tumblr and possibly even AIM. That's still a thing, right? I hope so, because I've been telling my daughter to stay away from it. She already thinks I am \"lame\" because I thought 5 Seconds of Summer was John Green's latest novel. I would hate to be telling her to avoid an extinct chat system. \n\nBut I suppose none of that really matters anymore since everything will be extinct in a little less than 24 hours now. The group of people in control of this world wanted me to come on here and tell you exactly what will happen. How everything on Earth will die. They wanted me to answer questions like, \"Is it going to be painful?\" and \"Will everyone die at the same time?\"\n\nTo their credit, they actually wanted me to come on camera and tell you people the truth. That's usually something they try to avoid at all costs. But I'm not going to tell you all how it's going to happen. I'm not going to tell you if it's going to be painful, because it honestly doesn't matter. \n\nIt's not important. We have wasted our entire existence here on this beautiful planet worrying about the most frivolous things. I don't know about you all, but I am fucking exhausted. And yes, I said the word \"fucking\" on network television. Who fucking cares? That's exactly what I am talking about it. You may think I am insane, but I guarantee you we will receive thousands of emails complaining about my inappropriate language before the world ends. \n\nAre you fucking offended? Get over it! Stop fucking worrying about things that don't fucking matter. For the next 24 hours, I want everyone to just live. Reach out to the people you haven't talked to in years. Knock on your neighbor's door and offer them a slice of banana bread. Stop working and go play catch with your kids. Ask your wife if she finally wants to try anal for the first (and last) time. Take your dog to the park. \n\nJust be happy. Okay? You don't have anything to worry about anymore. No more bills to pay, no more reports to file and no more homework. \n\nFor the next 24 hours, we finally get to live. Enjoy it. " ]	4
	[WP] Whenever someone dies, their image disappears from every photograph, digital or otherwise. On your birthday, you notice your image has vanished from every picture.	[ "You always get caught in a rhythm. I always thought that I created my own beat and melodies. It never felt like I was being drug into a monotonous cadence that dulled every fiber of my being. \r\n\nIt started out subtly: First, it was moving out, shattering the fragile worldview that your upbringing created. Then, it was realizing that nothing prepared you for the pain that followed. Soon after, you have to sell out just to make ends meet.\r\n\nSo now, here I am. Faded away. I never expected it to happen so suddenly. \"There's always tomorrow\" I said; and so many times it was true.\r\n\nI wish it were true now.\r", "Its Saturday. The Saturday I look forward to every year. I jump out of bed and begin my morning routine of getting dressed. I go down stairs and fix a cup of coffee. I'm sitting there watching the news and remember that I left my phone on my night stand. \n\nI go up stairs and grab my phone and unlock it. I check my emails like everyday because my job likes to make sure I know that even on the weekend I still have work to do. My inbox is full of Facebook messages and wall post wishing me a happy 22 birthday. I ignore them for now because I don't feel like having to tell everyone of my 300 friends thank you. I then move on to reading some blog post and catch up and my tech news for the day. \n\nI go back down stairs and turn to college game day and get ready to watch football all day I got beer in the fridge and bean dip on the stove I'm ready for the day. I then receive a message from my mom wishing me happy birthday and it has a family photo from Disney when I was 6 attached to it. The only problem is, I'm not in it. \n" ]	2
	[WP] Write about or express your love for someone who can/will never know how you feel.	[ "You are one of my best friends, you don't know how I feel, but yet although I may be young and naive, this feeling I get when I look at you, this desire to tell the world you are mine is like an everlasting flame nobody can blow out. I see you and I think \"I wish she knew. I wish she felt what I feel. And yet, I know that you dont. Must you be held in an impenetrable fortress in which I am never to enter as the knight you have dreamt of. Being without you may drive me into insanity, and you will never know it.", "Why do I feel this way\n\nI looked up and saw your face \n\nI was lost\n\nI feel so out of control\n\nMy heart is betraying me\n \nJust a fan girl\n\nYou wouldn't know I was here\n\none of a thousand\n\nI am no one to you\n\nWhen I see you \n\nI hate this feeling in me, the inability to control my heart\n\nHelpless in the face of desire\n\nMy knees are weak\n\nYou could ask almost anything of me\n\nIn my head I know\n\nit's ridiculous\n\nand I cry, I die a little\n\nbecause I know, I am no one to you\n\nYou smile and it feels like summer time in me\n\nI hear your voice and my soul is singing\n\nI hate you and it's not your fault\n\nI hate me and I fall apart\n\n\n", "(I'm sorry in advance)\n\nEvery time I look into your bright blue eyes, I think I see heaven reflected in them, but I know this is not true because they do not reflect the sky but the purity of your soul. If only you would let me embrace you instead of running at the sound of my footsteps, you could learn to love the warmth of my body, as I have learned to love the softness of yours. You leave pieces of yourself around the house and they always make me cry, and I cry when I hug you, but you do not cry. You are lucky because I do not make you cry.\n\nWe do not speak the same language. I try to learn. I mimic your noises, and it seems to make you happy, but we don't understand each other. Sometimes I raise my voice at you, and you raise your voice at me, and I know that we are arguing about something but I am never sure about what. I bring you food and water. I try to make you comfortable. You do not reciprocate, but in my heart I believe you are glad.\n\nYou are a masterwork, a beauty unparalleled. The world would be a gentler place if everyone could lay their eyes on you once in their life. I take photographs of you to compensate, but they don't see what I do. They don't know your softness. They don't know your warmth. They don't know the sound of your voice or the way you turn your head to look at me or the way you sleep in the sun with your face so innocent and happy.\n\nBut I know. Oh, how I know all too well.\n\nAnd as I fill your food dish with Meow Mix in the morning, I wonder if you'll ever know how I feel." ]	3
	[WP] Scientists discover an algorithm to match each person to the job that best suits them. This is the sole way in which careers are now allocated in society. Today is your first day working as a...	[ "nothing. That is what the computer said. It was the first time it happened in, well, ever. There had to be something wrong. How can I not be good at anything. I excelled at all my subjects in my primary school. I thought I was going to be a scientist, maybe even a teacher. But how is THIS possible! There has to be an error, I've lived all my life being the best at everything I did. Head of most sports teams, leader in my class, even class president. How am i not worth anything. Maybe the computer is wrong. I can be anything I want to be. If one thing can't suit me perfectly maybe they all do. So that means for the first time since humanity created this algorithm i have the right to choose.", "I gripped the small slip of paper in my hands, trembling visibly. The official who handed it to me looked down at me with glossy, dead eyes: \"Sure hope you get what you want, kiddo,\" he sighed, \"I sure as hell didn't.\" He nodded his head and turned to a little girl, the next in line, and silently placed another slip of paper into her trembling hand. I watched her slowly unfold the paper, and saw her face drain of color. She put her hand back down and walked out like a zombie, as many others did. I looked back down at my own slip: a tiny piece of paper that would decide my whole future. I tried to think of all of my dreams and ambitions; I wanted to be an astronaut, a test pilot, an explorer. Ever since I was little I wanted to test boundaries and explore new things, so of course, I reassured myself, I had to get something interesting. I wiped the sweat out of my eyes with my free hand. I remembered the dead eyes adults always had, how I had watched a tiny piece of paper drain all of the love and joy out of my brother, how it drained the humanity out of everyone it touched.\n\nThe politicians claimed The Algorithm created efficiency, order, and peace, how it gave everyone the perfect job, the perfect live. Parades cheered it on, \"The Algorithm is utopia!\" they would chant. \"Efficiency, Order, Peace!\" They claimed that The Algorithm was the only way to save the world, but how wrong they were. Instead of a happy world of perfection, we inherited a grey world of silence. Trains moved, cars drove, and people worked, but nevermore would they laugh and smile. Music was never made and movies never directed, for they were a waste of efficiency. People never traveled, chatted, nor fell in love for it was The Algorithm that married. Never again would people explore the oceans or reach for the stars. All of these wasted precious efficiency.\n\nAs I, too, opened my slip of paper, I felt myself die inside. 'Financial Specialist', it read. I rebelled initially, like most do, but the system was prepared for that; it wasn't long before I sat down and worked like I was told. After just a few months I was a zombie like everyone else. Work, eat, sleep. Work, eat, sleep. Work, eat sleep. I was a mature adult by then and dreams are for children, or so they say.", "I hate getting physicals. \n\nFirst came the tongue compressors, then the ear syringes, the reflex hammers, eye tests, all serving to give them more data on me, and resulting in less knowledge about them for myself. \n\nI didn't mind, though. Today was my eighteenth! Today, I got my job. A machine that combines all your aptitudes, attitudes, and preferences together to create the perfect suggestion for you was, quite frankly, the best thing since sliced bread.\n\nAs a bachelor that's tried to make many a grilled cheese sandwich with cheap french bread, this accolade ranked you slightly higher than the pope in my regard. \n\nI strolled down the aisle, the overly smiley male nurse from the cough test waving happily at me as I left. A small slip of paper slid out with a pleasant ding, and the operator grinned as I opened the sheet of paper, folded in half out of respect for those who might not have been truly happy with their results (although those were truly few and far between). \n\nThere it was. The 100% success rate slip of paper that would determine my future, and my worth as a person. I'd always given school my all, between my holding the top mark in two classes and keeping up a very impressive 94 average, I was really expecting a highly academically oriented career. Then again, I'd been captain of the football team two years ago, and I was still playing today. No matter, this machine had surprised people before, but they'd always turned out masters in their fields in the end, so I decided to put my faith in it. As I unfurled this tiny smooth scrap of paper, I heard a scream behind me. The smiley nurse's face was contorted to an expression of pain, and the male nurse was writhing on the ground, bleeding from his eyes. What the fuck is going on? I glanced quickly at the paper, then glanced intensely again after immediately forgetting what I read. \n\n\"Satan-in-training\" \n\nThe blood drained from their corpses and pooled on the ground, creating a massive eye shape underneath me. It opened, and in the literal blink of an eye, I tumbled downwards through the gates of hell to start my new apprenticeship.\n\nThen I woke up after my harshest acid trip in the world and went back to my day job as customer service rep for comcast. \n\nNinjaE: Is the spoiler tag disabled on the subreddit or something? ", "Algorithm manservant, reads the little slip of paper.\n\n\nI glance at the little machine that had spit out the paper.\n\n\n\"What'd you get?\", asks the woman who had picked before me, hesitantly. I show her. Her eyebrow raises.\n\n\n\"You?\", she shows me hers. Algorithm concubine. We both look at the machine. It rattles a bit under the scrutiny.\n\n\nIt might be time for some percussive maintenance." ]	4
We have yet to know what makes this person a killer. We don't even know he/her is out there, except for the bodies that turn up or the people whom go missing. They are the first of this kind of killer..	[WP] The most fearsome serial killer is the one yet to be caught or studied. Write a little sample from the day and life of an unstudied, unknown killer.	[ "The young woman was walking home. She always went this way. She could have taken a bus home from the diner, but the route was very roundabout and it was faster to simply walk. Besides, she liked to see the stars, such as they were here in town, and feel the cool breeze in the air. As she was walking, a man just 20 feet ahead of her dropped something with a clatter. Ouch. Sounded like a phone.\n\n\"Shit!\" He exclaimed, fumbling in the dark for the pieces of his phone. \"Excuse me, miss?\" he called over to her, \"You don't happen to have a flashlight or a lighter or somethin', do ya?\"\n\n\"I've got a phone, hang on,\" She replied, fishing through her pocketbook. She found her phone and clicked on her flashlight app, and scanned the ground. The phone had broken open when it hit the ground, back casing and battery strewn across the ground. The woman squatted down to pick up the battery. As she reached out to hand it to the man, there was a quick flash of silver.\n\nShe felt the cold steal slide past her neck. How could something so cold feel white hot as it cut into you? She felt her skin part for the razor sharp blade, and her nerves screamed in pain. She could feel the warm blood start to flow down her front as he pushed her backward. The stars were so beautiful tonight.\n\nShe faded in and out as he hoisted her into the back of a van, tarp laid on the floor and across much of the walls. The ceiling was covered in short, sharp marks. He was vaguely aware of him taking her pocketbook.\n\n\"Claire? That's not great. You're my fourth Claire. It's harder and harder to have original ones these days. There's always tomorrow, I guess. He reached up toward the driver seat of the van for a moment. When he returned to her field of vision, he had something small in his hand, and he marked another line on the ceiling. \n\nSomething within Claire recognized the marks. Tallies. There was something inherently wrong with that. If only she could remember what it was. As he stepped past her, he bumped her shoulder, and her collar scratched against her neck. The sudden burst of pain gave her mind a moment of clarity. She attempted to scream, but all that came out was a gurgling moan, as she stared in horror at the ceiling.\n\nHe seemed curious about the noise. \"What? What is it? Oh, those?\" He barked a short laugh, \"Please, hun. This isn't even the first van.\"", "Started with a different prompt:\n\nhttps://medium.com/@cynicismsells/hazlenut-would-be-the-better-choice-e2549aed9ff1\n\nBut continued here:\n\nHe sighs as he unlocks the deadbolt to his studio apartment, sets down his briefcase, and tosses his damp umbrella onto the boot tray, not bothering to remove his shoes and perfectly aware of the wet tracks he's leaving behind him as he makes his way to the kitchenette. It's been a long day.\n\nWearily, he reaches for the coffee grinder, pulls the small baggie out of his back pocket and empties the contents into the small appliance. As the little machine whirs to life he hits the power button on his keurig and grabs the reusable k-cup filter out of the single kitchenette cabinet.\n\nAs he closes the cabinet door he stops mid swing, considers his addled pantry and unceremoniously grabs the pumpkin pie spice.\n\nHe scoops the contents of the bean grinder into the reusable k-cup, careful not to pack it too tight, and tops it off with a sprinkle of the pumpkin spice. He pops the filter into the keurig, brings the handle down with a satisfying thunk and hits the 10oz button.\n\nHe leans over the coffee maker to take in the aroma and enjoy the warmth of the steam as the red liquid fills the cup. He takes his mug out of the appliance and adds a small spoonful of sugar and a splash of cream. Frowning, he notices a tiny bit of flesh surfacing in the now salmon colored brew as he stirs. He fishes it out with his spoon, and flings it into the sink.\n\nSatisfied with the state of his beverage, he blows the steam away from the rim of the mug and takes a tentative sip, so as not to burn his tongue. Smiling he takes another, bigger sip and shrugs.\n\nHe sets the mug down to let his drink cool a bit more as he washes the rest of her pulverized flesh out of the coffee grinder & K-cup filter.\n\nHe sets them down on the dish towel to dry, picks up his mug and takes a larger sip of his drink, tasting and savoring the flavors as he muses \"It's good... but I just don't get what all the pumpkin spice hype is about\"" ]	2
	[WP] A powerful gangster is fed up with corruption in the government and starts to blackmail/threaten politicians into making society a better place	[ "\"What's our status on the Robertson problem?\" Larry Winton asked his secretary, as the two hurried through the busy New York streets.\n\nWinton was a man of false faces, switching from mask to fleshy, insincere, expertly-crafted mask as the situation demanded. Were you to hit the magazine stands that week, you'd find one of his happier, more charismatic masks decorating the cover of TIME. Those who knew him well would describe him as fluid, unpredictable, and unrelentingly cold; but then, those who knew him well had precisely the same nature. Those who didn't know him well would describe him as kindhearted and generous, and he and his fellows would respond with modesty and humility, while laughing riotously inside their heads.\n\nHe was an economic parasite, leeching the world's wealth, and he was a social chameleon, able to convince the public that he was their lone protector from the consequences of his actions. He owned half the world's media companies, had partial control of its twelve most successful technology companies, and had recently made his largest fortune ever by investing in private military contractors. He was as much a political figure as a Congressman, if not more so, given the degree of influence that he tended to hold over them. In a world that selects sociopaths as leaders, he was its secret king, and like any king, he had survived his fair share of assassination attempts.\n\nThat was why he was hardly surprised when he felt the barrel of a pistol slam into his spine.\n\n\"Keep walking. Don't turn around,\" growled his assailant. She edged close to him, hiding her weapon under a bulky trenchcoat.\n\n\"Kid, I run the largest PMC in the world,\" he said flatly. \"You think I don't have ten snipers lined up along this route?\"\n\n\"Sixteen,\" she said. \"Ten of them have families and have been 'convinced' to abandon their post. Another was happy to accept the salary I offered him. The last five were easily terminated. I suppose that's what happens when so much of your business involves selling the military's leftovers back to it. Oh, no need to look around. The plainclothes guys have been replaced as well.\"\n\nWinton was a calculating man, and now he was in search of a solution to this particular equation. His attacker was gracious enough to reveal some of the relevant terms:\n\n\"That's five snipers set up along the rest of your route, Larry, with line of sight on your entire path of travel. Fourteen operatives in plainclothes, carrying concealed firearms -- ten armed with various pistols; the remaining four armed with TEC-9s. I have demolitions teams waiting at seventy of the roughly two hundred forty major facilities that your American businesses own. I've also paid off your lawyer. He belongs to me now. So in case you were thinking about running, fighting, or in any way resisting me: I can burn you.\"\n\n\"What do you want?\" he asked, visibly irritated.\n\n\"First, I want you to know who beat you. Sandra Hale.\"\n\n\"The New Baroness of New York.\"\n\n\"Oh, it goes far beyond New York these days,\" Hale bragged. \"Onto the next item of business: call off the assassination of Senator Robertson.\"\n\n\"Do it,\" Winton said to the secretary. She nodded, and sent a text message. \"It's done,\" she confirmed.\n\nWinton heard a faint buzzing behind him.\n\n\"Winton!\" Hale scolded. \"You sent the go code, not the abort -- 487 when you shoulda sent 419. What a shame. I could've used you, and your secretary seemed so nice.\"\n\nBang, bang. Long live the King.", "The mayor shook slightly, taking no reassurance from the bodyguard at his side. The man across from him had one as well. He had always though his bodyguard a capable fellow, just over six feet tall and built like an offensive lineman. But the hulking redhead behind one of the most notorious men in Chicago dwarfed everyone in the room. \n\nSitting in a suit that cost more than the mayor's first car, the gangster radiated a sense of danger like a tiger lounging on a rock. The mayor had no idea how to process the things he was being told. “You want me to double the police budget?”\n\n“Special investigations, especially.” Eyes the color of faded dollar bills met his, unwavering. “But that is after you overhaul education. Focus on after-school programs.”\n\n“Why?”\n\n“Why the fuck not mayor?” There was an edge to the gangster's voice this time, and the mayor felt his bowels turning to jelly. There was something ethereal about the gangster, like he knew something the mayor didn't. “Keeping kids off the streets is a noble goal in of itself.”\n\n“Where is the money coming from for all this?”\n\nThere was a cold satisfaction in the gangster's smile, “I happen to know your accounts very well, Mr. Mayor. There is a large slush fund available to you for 'discretionary' spending.”\n\n“But that-”\n\n“I know where that money came from,” the mayor decided that the smile belonged to some kind of predator animal, not a human being. “I'll handle her. Besides, she has bigger fish to fry than you.” The arguably most powerful man in the city stood up and adjusted his jacket. “I've taken up enough of your time, Mr. Mayor. You have a lot of work to do. I'll let you get to it.”\n\nThe mayor could not stop himself, though he knew the question might cost him his life, “Why are you doing this?”\n\nGentleman Johnny Marcone smiled at the mayor, “You may be the mayor, but I am the Baron of this city. It is under my protection. I will see it run well. Hendricks?” The enormous redhead opened the door to the mayor's office and only after Marcone left did the mayor let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. ", "I got a lot of leverage in this town. Mainly because I got a lot of business interests. You know the type. Some girls that keep senators happy. Some drugs that keep them high. Some kickbacks that keep them rich. Some of my money’s legit. Most isn’t. \n\nThose sacks of shit on the Hill? They couldn’t care less. So long as they fly business, can sleep with a Russian teen without getting busted, and snort the purest candy cane, the rest of us can go to hell. Democracy? Yeah, right. It’s not democracy if your choice is between a fat corrupt turd and an obese corrupt pond stain. You still end up with a fat guy screwing you over. \n\nA lot of my friends complain about this all the time. I mean endlessly. And they’re legit guys. Lawyers. Dentists. Chop shop owners. But you know what? None of them has the balls to do anything about it. Me? I’m different. If I didn’t need them, I’d use them instead of concrete shoes. I’m not boasting or nothing. Just how it is. \n\nSo Dave comes to me one day a few weeks back. He does odd jobs. A very handy guy to have in a pinch. He says to me, “Boss, Angie’s got leukaemia and I haven’t got a hope in hell of paying for all the treatment. Those sons of bitches up there, they cut back on funding and now it’s either a private clinic or a casket for her. If you got somethin’ needs doin’, just let me know.” \n\nNow, Angie. She’s about as high as the stock on a sawn-off 12 gauge is long. She’s about six, seven. Something like that. A hyperactive flea. Mouth that you can’t turn down or shut off. Swears like a longshoreman. And about as tough as one, too. Who wouldn’t love her? \n\nI said to Dave, “Let me think about it.” \n\nWhen it comes to general thinking, I’m no Tyson the Grass. But I have my moments. And I have say, it came to me as easy as slotting one between Bennie the Gag’s eyebrows. Although technically that hairy fuck had only one. \n\nSo after some late night research sessions, I called up Don Pedillo last Sunday afternoon. You might have heard of him. He’s the junior senator from Ohio. He has a thing for girls with an inverse ratio between bust size and age. High numbers for the former, if you get my drift. He’s on some appropriations committee, and has been taking some serious change in return for favours from the so-called healthcare companies. He’s the scum bag that’s sending Angie to an early grave. \n\nI said to him, “Don, I got some interesting pics of you with a thirteen-year-old Jayne Mansfield lookalike. Got a tattoo of a feather on one ass cheek.” He made a few noises like I was an amateur, but I straightened him out pretty quick. I sent Dave around on Monday to collect an envelope from the good senator. Told him to keep the contents and put it towards Angie’s recovery. \n\nI have to say, it felt pretty good. I’m on the lookout for a few more good causes. Any ideas?\n \n", "\"Well well, Senator Albertson...\"\n\nBruno looked up and down at the senator, tie askew, eye swollen shut, hands tied behind his back and then lashed to the chair. The lone lightbulb barely lit the small circle of concrete around him. Bruno light up a cigar and breathed in his face.\n\n\"You've taken money from everyone. Millions from oil companies for drilling rights. Thousands from telecom companies for monopoly rights. Even..\" He glanced at his notes. \"Even a measly few hundred to, what's this say here? To 'evict an old woman so someone can expand their golf course?'\"\n\nBruno nodded to the thug standing behind him, who lowered his revolver into the back of the senator's head. \n\n\"Listen to me, Albertson. From now on, you're green. No more petroleum drilling, all those profitable companies you oversee reduce their carbon emissions by 90 percent. You're dropping your proposed tax cuts to the billionaires and making it 100 million a year to cancer research. The war on drugs is over, government loses, resources are now going to mental health and urban youth programs. And if I hear you make another promise to ANYBODY besides the taxpaying American public, you're a dead man.\"\n\n\"Anything!\" the senator babbled, pleading for his life. \"Oh god, yes please! I'll do anything you say, please I've got a family, I'll do anything you say, I swear-\"\n\nThe shot rang out and senator Albertson slumped forward, his bloodsmeared and cracked glasses clattering to the floor. Bruno took another drag from his cigar. \n\n\"I don't pay any fucking taxes, Albertson.\" One less corrupt politician. " ]	4
	[WP] A short story with an extremely unsatisfying ending	[ "Sparse patches of dark green grass littered themselves around the train yard. An especially dark and cold night gave way to crisp morning air as the sun bent its light over the horizon. An array of orange and red light illuminated a small boy seated with his legs crossed by the massive trains; he wore an oversized brown jacket and held a little toy version of the real thing that appeared to look down upon him. \n\nHe moved the train toy back and forth making imaginative noises to go along with the world he was creating. An engineer blew the whistle loud, there was that familiar screech of the wheels starting up, and the smile of the many passengers all formed themselves vividly inside the boy's brain. \n\nAcross the yard on the opposite side of the train that he sat in front of, people began boarding. The early morning hour warrented an eerie silence from the passengers finding their seats, each person using lackadaisical hand gestures to communicate through the haze of deprivated sleep. A boy and his mother made their way up the metal steps, in the child's hand a little toy version of the train he was now walking through. He plopped himself down on a seat he deemed worthy enough to be the setting for his imagination. He moved his little train back and forth making similar noises as the boy who sat outside in the cold. \n\nWith a jolt, that screech of the wheels roared over the train yard and the boy seated on the damp ground jerked his head up with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. The engineer poked his head out of the front and pulled down on a piece of wire sounding the classic noise of the train whistle. The mammoth rumbled away, the noise oscillating for awhile as the wheels got up to full speed. As it went by, a little boy peered out the window from his seat to see someone of his same age playing with the same toy as he had. His jaw dropped slightly as he curiously wondered what the other boy was doing. But just as the train chugged down the track away from his point of curiosity, he had forgotten, lost in the world of his little toy.", "I opened my eyes. It was dark. My lonely one bedroom apartment was quiet, as always. It had been a couple days since I had come in contact with anyone. You don't really go back to normal when you see the mob kill someone. \n\nThey threatened me and said I should leave town or they'll deal with me themselves. I don't have the money to leave, so maybe if I just lay low for the next few days and wait until my direct deposit from my last week of work kicks in...maybe it'll be enough time. \n\nIt's a Tuesday and I won't get paid until Friday. Can I survive like this? I've ignored people's calls, emails, Facebook messages. As far as anyone knows, I'm missing. \n\nI'm getting paranoid. I keep thinking that I can hear guns clicking outside my apartment. I keep thinking that out of my window, people are watching me. They won't come get me, it's too risky to come to my place. That's absurd. \n\nKnock, Knock\n\nI freeze in my seat. It can't be...no...they wouldn't.\n\nKnock, Knock\n\nIt has to be Carrie, my ex, wondering why I suddenly left her and stopped talking. Or maybe it's a coworker...or my dad...I did pretty much drop contact with everyone a couple days ago...so it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities.\n\nKnock, Knock, Knock\n\nIf I ignore it it will go away.\n\nKnock, Knock, Knock\n\nMaybe I should answer the door. If it's the mob it won't matter, they're just gonna break in. If it's family or friends, I can explain the situation and ask them to leave or just turn them away. \n\nKnock, Knock\n\nI walk toward the door, slowly. I hear the hardwood floors creaking under my feet. I wish I had a peephole. There isn't any half measures when checking who is at the door. It's all or nothing.\n\nI'm at the door. I stand there, hoping the knocking stops so I can turn around and sit down again, but it doesn't. \n\nKnock, Knock\n\nI reach for the knob. Twist. Open the door.", "It was a warm summer evening and the second day in his new apartment. He had spent most of the day travelling back and forth between the propped rear entrance of his new residence and the moving truck parked out front, not taking the time to notice his neighbor. It was only during a much needed break, sitting on the only available piece of furniture in his cluttered living room, that he allowed his gaze to wander long enough to spot her. \n\nThere, through the large bay window, he saw a young woman. She was across the street and just behind the healthy green hedges out front, though he could see only her face and shoulders. She was on all fours pulling weeds, her tattered sweatshirt covered with dirt and debris from the garden. Despite her somewhat disheveled appearance, the woman had to be one of the most strikingly beautiful he had ever seen. He guessed her to be in her late twenties, with very short blonde hair and a sad, soft expression. She knelt at the roots of the hedge, deliberately picking and pulling. His lingering curiosity as to whether or not he had a neighbor across the street was now resolved, but the cleaning of the remaining boxes in his home was not. \n\nThe following morning, he hastily made his way out. He hurried past the large moving truck in the driveway and toward his car which was parked in the street. Before getting in, he paused to glance at the house across the street. Its outward appearance was strangely forlorn in the early morning light, and all but the second floor shade was drawn; he assumed it was her bedroom. In that moment, he decided it would be polite to introduce himself to her when the opportunity arose. \n\nSeveral days passed, and as the result of five consecutive evenings of overtime, he had not yet had the opportunity to stop across the street. When he wasn’t at work, he was at home emptying and flattening boxes of his furnishings and personal effects, as well as eating microwave dinners, which were the only kind he had time for. Each day as he sat at his desk, his mind would inevitably wander back to the girl beneath the hedge. The striking effect of her beauty lingered still, and the more he thought about her, the more eager he became make good on his intention to meet her. \n\nAlmost a year ago to the day, his girlfriend had left him, quite unceremoniously, for another man. The unpleasant memories had owed largely to his decision to pull stakes and move four states away. He had finally settled in a new town, found a new job, and he thought it was high time he made a new friend.\n\nAfter work one day, he decided to see if she was home. Upon reaching his house, he got out of his car and made his way across the street and over to her door. He noticed that there was only a piece of duct tape where the doorbell should have been, so instead he knocked firmly. After waiting a beat, he leaned to peer into the window to his right, but all he could see was the top corner of a grey sofa. After knocking again with no response, he made his way back across the street to his house, noticing that a mail carrier was coming his way on foot. \n\n“Excuse me,” he asked the carrier, “this is my first week in this house here, number fifty five, and I’m wondering if you know who my neighbor is, across the street there at number fifty eight?” The carrier sighed and looked at the house thoughtfully for a moment. \n“If I remember correctly, there used to be a large family there, but I’ve only had this route about three months, and I think only the youngest daughter lives there now. Everyone else is gone and the parents are dead so she takes care of the place, far as I can tell.”\n \n“Do you happen to know what she does for a living?” \n\n“Can’t say that I do. Anyway, I need to be movin’ on. Welcome to the neighborhood.” The carrier dropped Luke’s mail into his mailbox and walked off, humming to himself. Luke stood in the street, gazing at his neighbor’s house. For the past several days, something about the residence had kept him preoccupied. With the exception of the occasion when he had spotted his neighbor pulling weeds, he had not seen her since. He had not seen her come or go, nor had he seen a light on, inside or out. This served only to intrigue him further, and he made his way inside to fix himself a cup of coffee. He went to the living room and made himself comfortable on his new couch, sipping his coffee. It wasn’t long until the droll hum of the television had helped him to doze off. \n\n Luke woke slightly startled with the loud intro for the 6 o’ clock news; he had fallen asleep with coffee cup in hand. He absent-mindedly gazed across the street toward his neighbor’s house. There was a light on now, in the same room where the shade had earlier been drawn. Luke leaned forward with interest, gazing at the window. He figured this might be his chance, and he got up and put his shoes on. He threw on a jacket, grabbed his keys, and was giving his hair a quick adjustment in the hallway mirror when his cell phone rang. He fished in his jacket pocket and read the incoming call. “Mom”. Luke grunted and answered the call. \n\nHis mother wanted to know all about the move and how things were going for her son in his new office. She asked many questions, as mothers do, and by the time they were done talking, Luke had no desire to do anything except go to sleep, and besides, his neighbor’s light was now off once again. Fortunately, tomorrow was his first day off, and he knew it would be a very good day to finally meet his new neighbor.\n\nLuke rose to the chatter of police and medical personnel, scattered in the street in front of his house in the early morning hours. Splitting the blinds and wincing into the morning light, he saw an ambulance and two police cruisers parked in front of the house across the street. As the oscillating red and blue lights washed over his face, he wondered what possibly could have happened. He had been the occupant of this house for only ten days, and already drama had made its way to his street. Luke hastily got dressed, and put on some flip flops. He stepped outside and shuffled his way over to the police cruiser parked closest to his front door, where two officers were standing chatting. \n\n\"Morning” Luke said, stopping by the front of the cruiser and pulling back his morning hair. “What happened? I live just across the street here.” The officers looked at each other, and the one nearer to Luke turned to him. “Nothing is official yet, but… it’s an apparent suicide. The girl living here hung herself about an hour ago, shortly after calling us to notify us of her intentions. Said something about how she was tired of being alone. Did you know her?”", "\"Nature, red in tooth and claw.\"\n \n -\"In Memoriam A.H.H.\"\n\nEvery being on this earth, for 3.5 billion years, has had to fight to survive. Since its conception in the chaos and fire of our world's birth, life has faced constant tribulation, between one another, the environment, and countless other threats. And for 3.5 billion years, your every ancestor won. Your heritage is an unbroken line of survivors, of the organisms that triumphed, that surpassed their brethren and stood victorious. You are hardwired, through eons of genetic improvement, to win.\n\nAnd you trip and crack your skull open. Good job, dipshit.", "He ran. He ran faster. He ran even faster with the other men. His body was ready to give out, but he knew he must soldier on. This was his first time doing such a thing, and dammit it wouldn’t be a failure.\n\nThe man jumped out of the burning window as the trampoline came into sight, unable to take the flames licking his back any longer. The plummet to the ground was terrifying as he looked into one young firefighter’s face. The wind blew through the man’s hair.\n\nMeanwhile, the young firefighter let out a yell and pushed on, trying to catch the man before he hit the ground. An explosion on the top floor of the building sent glass flying out everywhere as he watched the man plummet.\n\n\\3. \\2. \\1.\n\n-310", "\"HAAAAAAA AHHHHHH LLLPPP MEEEEEEEEE\"\n\nPhillip heard the cry, and started to run, run fast, faster, like every other citizen on the street of the sleepy Kentucky town. He saw the screaming kid, heard his planitive wail, and got into his car and revved it up. He burst off the worn, faded pavement, leaving the other would-be rescuers in the dust. The worn but sturdy wheels of the Ford Impala sped along the dusty road, kicking up clouds of dirt as it followed the kidnapper's Chevy. They drove on that narrow thin road of faded asphalt under the hot sun, neither willing to let up or surrender. Phillip saw the intersection fast approaching and steeled his resolve; no more children would be sold into the body trade, not if he could stop it. The two pathways to the highway were gaping pits of roads, asphalt caves driven into the hill. He readied himself, nerves tensed as the car skid, rolled, and crashed into his. The black comforted him.\n\nHe awoke to see a vision of damnation, twisted metal and the body of his automated friend trapping him in a last, burning embrace. He struggled out of the car and found another one of the traffickers lying spread-eagled on the ground, pistol in his hand. He grabbed it, and emptied a bullet in the man's head, just in case. He moved quickly, finding the kid crawling up to a nearby tree, scars and scrapes on his legs. Phillip moved quickly in, soothing the boy. He was well-known around town for being the only clean cop.\n\n\"Hey, you hurt?\"\n\nThe boy sobbed, snot and tears mixing into a viscous substance of pain and despair under the tyrannical sun. He cried and sobbed over and over, only achieving coherence after some time.\n\n\"You okay, you okay? How'd they snatch you?\"\n\nMore crying. Then;\n\n\"T-they kkilled Spot. And they hurted Mama.\"\n\nMore reassurances from Phillip, more soothing.\n\n\"Don't let em get me, please, please, please, they'll hurt me, please please, he's behind you!\"\n\n Phillip turned around pistol in his hand, gun aimed, trigger pulled, as the remaining trafficker did the same.\n\nClick! went the misfire.\n\nBang! went the gun.", "I still remember the day we met, Nicole and I. I was 15 and out for a walk to clear my head after an argument with my mom. I made it about ten minutes into the walk when I hear a voice call out, \"Hey you! Come here!\" There were two very pretty girls walking on the other side of the street I was approaching. \n\nGingerly, I walk over and introduce myself. I was always awkward around girls. The three of us walk around our small town getting to know each other ending up in a park. Eventually Nicole's friend Caroline has to go so Nicole and I stay in the park and talk for longer. As the day turns to night I offer to walk her home. We got to her doorstep and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. Three weeks later we were dating. \n\nYears come and go and before you know it we're both twenty. We'd had a lot of great times together, Nicole and I. Like the time we were out walking on a trail and stopped to kiss and at that exact moment fireworks went off in the distance. It was like magic. Whenever Nicole and I would argue, all it took to diffuse the situation was to say \"remember the fireworks.\" Or the time we were out hiking in the forest and got lost and caught in the rain. We hid from that old pine tree from the storm and kissed until the rain stopped, even though I didn't think I'd ever be dry again. I like to imagine those things happened anyway. I like to imagine that's how it would have gone down. We'd have our fireworks and our rain and our love. But that won't happen now, everything changed once the fire nation attacked.\n\n\n\n" ]	7
	[WP] Write about a day in your life set five years from now.	[ "I wake naturally, as though I had been awake for hours, to the soft gray light of a new morning stealing around the drapes and curling up at the foot of my bed like a cat. It's on days like these that I look into the mirror and see my father staring back at me. The flecks of white in the hair, the once-muscular body now fading into age, like dust settling familiarly onto a mantle. My father was this age when we first met; a lifetime ago. I know the wrinkles around my eyes have become more pronounced as my face has more than regained the fat lost to stress and diet during graduate school days. I stare at my hands and think about the new and old scars, testaments to the adventures and mistakes that I've made. A deep breath results in a heavier sigh than I intended, and a shift in the blankets to my left. She's usually not a heavy sleeper, but today the world is blanketed, and dreams on. I was woken, privileged, to watch this tiny, perfect moment, fleeting, temporary, beautiful. This is my first and last time on this sacred, silent, November morning, a tiny infinity just for me. \n\nThe just as fast as it arrived, it's gone. Shattered. I realize the noise that woke me. I turn the volume down on the baby monitor, and steal out of the room to share the morning with my son. ", "Sigh.\n\nAnother long day at work, not that it's a bad thing. I thoroughly enjoy my work - I spend my days outside, though my colleagues are usually inside on computers. I study nature, make sketches and rough drafts of the sounds of the he pacific northwest. Later I will make a full score of what I heard, and help perform my pieces in a local symphony. \n\nMy team has a huge focus on the natural world to tell our very unnatural stories, fantasy written and wrought on silicone and copper wire.\n\nFrom afar I notice some people gawking at my ride - a 1994 jeep wrangler. Not that you could tell anymore, she was newer than the 2020 Jeep AJ's that were rolling around. I had replaced nearly everything on her myself, and the attention to detail showed. \n\nI climbed inside and even as a 6', 23 year-old guy it was a daunting task. I felt bad for my fiancée, she was only 5'. She practically needed a step stool to get in. \n\nThe I6 engine roared to life, big bored to a 4.6 litre and with a magnaflow exhaust, she roared and spat fire. I rolled away, home only a few kilometers from my work. I should run here instead, but damn was this thing fun to drive.\n\nI feel the engine nearly stall, the sudden deceleration making my stomach drop. Fuck. Not again. \nI didn't even need to get out to know the issue, but I checked anyway. My O2 sensor came undone - its wire caught in the drive line. There goes $60. It had been years since this happened last, but I remembered the feeling all the same. \n\nWe limped to an auto shop, and I picked up the godforsaken part, and limped home. At least I had something to do today.\n\nI pulled up my driveway, it was wooded and dark from the cover of evergreen trees. My house was small, but nice. It had large windows allowing great views almost 360° around the property. By the garage was my fiancée's Prius. She had a hammer in hand - god knows why, and I soon realize that this means I have another thing to fix. I hate fixing that damn thing, and as sweet as that beautiful woman is, she doesn't even know what the issue is, let alone why she has a hammer in hand. I also know this means work on my jeep will be halted for a while.\n\n\"Yay, you're back!\" She runs up to my door as I jump out, and greets me with a hug easily twice as big as she is. She looks over to the Toyota and gives me an overdone puppy dog face, and I know immediately that she is demanding I fix it. \n\nA few hours later, the Prius fixed, I head inside and find a small meal set out. Tea, some salad and a sandwich, perfect. \n\nWe clean up our dishes, and start messing with the dogs, throwing small toys and then running out to the goat pen. The dogs bark with excitement, and the goats bleet with enthusiasm, though I can never tell if it's from fear of the dogs or excitement of food.\n\nTired and dirty, I return to the house. Hell, I need a shower. I have oil, and goat-pen goo on my arms, and I can't even see what's on my face. I strip down, and turn on the water. My phone detects the NFC tags on the counter and plays some music, its choice tonight? Eisbrecher.\nWorks for me.\n\nThe music blares, and the steam masks movement. I didn't notice my fiancée slip in too, she hugs me from behind and my heart skips from the initial fear of an intruder, and then the realization of who it truly is. She never misses a chance to get some action. I oblige.\n\nWe later fall into our bed, and turn in for the night. The distant calls of coyotes lull us to sleep, but a thud against the back wall quickly draws us from slumber. Fall means bears are getting bolder around here, searching for scraps before they hibernate. I take my rifle outside at her behest, and though I do not intend on killing the black bear, it certainly will not take goats from me. I fire into a large tree, knowing that the bullet will stop inside and harm nothing. I hear huffing to my left, and heavy steps breaking twigs. The bear ran away, and with that I return to my bed.\n\nI awake the next morning, my fiancée is already awake. I had planned to go hiking today, so I collect my best gear when it strikes me - did I ever fix my jeep?", "\"Do you want to know the sex?\" Dr. Rashad asked politely. I still can't believe it. Right there, on that little screen— that indistinguishable blob is my child. I look into Sabrina's eyes, the look on her face is one of bliss and relaxation. I know it's cliché, but she's glowing.\n\nAll my life has amounted to this. This one moment. I used to tell myself that I never wanted to grow up, that I never wanted to get married. I used to think that I would be single forever. I planned on it, even— and yet, your whole life can turn on a dime. I'm not saying this happens to everyone, but it definitely happened to me. Sometimes you just meet someone who makes you want to stay in one place. Someone who convinces you that you can build a tiny empire right here. And all of a sudden, being a rockstar, or an astronaut, or a doctor, or a lawyer doesn't seem as important as this one thing.\n\nI think it's safe to say that I don't care anymore about leaving my impact on the world— the only thing I really care about is leaving my impact on these people.\n\nAs tears well up in my eyes, I look at Dr. Rashad. \"No, I think that's okay. We like surprises.\"", "I raised my hands and the vast throng of adoring citizens quieted. \n\n\n\"My people\", I began, \"today marks a glorious day in the history of unified humanity. Today we begin our expansion to the stars.\" The bottle of champagne crashed against the pure white hull of the Intrepid, but its smash was absorbed by the overwhelming roar of the crowd.\n\n\nI stepped down from the scaffolding to the flash of a hundred cameras and a wall of microphones.\n\n\n\"Overlord SporkDeprived, Overlord SporkDeprived, could you tell us what prompted this course of action?\"\n\n\n\"Well, after achieving world peace in 2015, and global prosperity in 2016, it seemed the thing to do\"\n\n\n\"What would you say caused this course of actions?\"\n\n\nI paused for a moment. \"It was probably a writing prompt on Reddit in 2014\" I waved off the reporters and went to talk to the Intrepid's crew members.", "I wake up early, and while eating breakfast, I begin to reflect on my life.\n\nI have conquered worlds, and armies. I have burned kingdoms, and cities, razed cultures and castles. I have met heroes, and villains, strangers and jokers. \n\nI left a city on the brink of war, once, because it wasn't quite right. Emperor's have called out to me, and Gods have screamed for me. Met a few time travelers, too. \n\nMy journey never ends. I travel the roads between worlds. And should you meet me, it may only be for a moment. But, if you do meet me, I guarantee your little life is about to change. \n\nSo I go upstairs, sit in my chair... and begin to write. " ]	5
	[WP] A young boy, later turned fisherman has dreams all throughout his life. One day while sailing with his father at sea, they are ransacked by pirates, and left on the debris of their remaining ship. They stumble upon an island where all of the fisherman's past dreams, and nightmares are alive.	[ "The fisherman wakes up, sand in his clothing on the shore of an island. The palm trees softly sway in the wind and the sun shines from high above onto his back. There's no sign of the boat or his father, no sign of anything anywhere except for the island beneath him and the journey ahead. The gray clouds seem benign in the distance, but they'll soon be whipping the treeline and terrorizing the surrounding waters. Whatever he does, he must do it quickly. \n\nHe traverses the sandy shore and ventures deep into the vegetation. Here the trees grow higher and the sun shines darkly. The young man makes his return to the shore, but cannot find it. No matter which direction he travels, he finds himself further and further from the island's borders. As he falls deeper and deeper into the thick jungle he begins to recognize that the island is not normal.\n\nAW MAN, this sounds too much like lost i'm not continuing", "The following excerpts were found in a notebook floating on driftwood, near Barefoot Beach Preserve Park in Florida. They were the only pages to avoid water damage. \n\n>I had another dream last night. \n\n>I've forgotten most of it in the time it took me to pull out my journal. My father has told me to stop writing them down, but if I do not, they will fade from my memory and die into nothingness. \n\n>I dreamed of a wave, large enough to move a whale, and the wave came at us. It came for us. My father told me to put down the sail, but it didn't matter. I stayed on the hard wood of the boat. The wave was beautiful, mesmerizing me as a snake may freeze a mouse with its eyes. I knew we were dead, but it was a death that one could only hope for. \n\n>My father was swept away by the winds. He flew off the boat and into the cold water. It didn't matter anymore. Not in my dream. Before the wave struck me, I woke up. \n\n>I was covered in sweat and my heartbeat was thudding in my ears. My father was yelling for me. \n\n>Pirates had spotted us again, but this time they were too close. He said we- \n \n\nThe page isn't legible beyond this point. The next excerpt is from three pages forward \n\n>It is beauty. It is terror. It is my dreams and my nightmares and my musings, gathered in one island. It's a paradise and a prison, for I cannot leave. \n\n>Perhaps I am dead. Maybe the pirates managed to cut off my head and in God's infinite humor, he placed me with all my creations. Those which have been forgotten, those which were remembered. \n\n>I write this while watching one of them. I never gave it a name in my dreams. I woke and forgot it, but seeing it now brings back the memories. It is black, pure black. Just a ball with hair and legs. No eyes. No mouth. No ears. No nose. Yet I can feel it looking back at me. Smelling me, hearing my pencil scrape this paper. Tasting the air around me.\n\n>The trees are tall, like the ones I dream of some nights. They seem so big. It shows me how small I am. I will die on this island, if I am not dead already, and the trees will watch it happen and continue to lounge in the clouds. \n\n>The carcass of a sea turtle lies a few yards to my left. It is bloated, but I'm sure there are things living within it. I've felt them watching me, but when I turn to return the favor, there is nothing there. I don't remember them in my dreams, but I suppose I never saw them in my dreams either. Only felt them. \n\n>I saw my father a few hours ago. He had no head, the pirates had that, but he had his body. He waved at me from behind the trees. I waved back. \n\n>I wanted to follow him- \n\n\nThe following pages are too water damaged to be legible\n" ]	2
	[WP] The bar was full the night he came in	[ "The bar was full the night he came in. \n\nHer name was Lola and she was waiting for him, like she was every night. She didn't lean in to wipe the snow melting on his shoulders. Instead she looked at him, not saying a word, like he was just another stranger. He leaned in instead, and kissed her. She was like a cat waiting to be scratched behind the ears. \n\nThe next morning he woke up alone, as always. ", "The bar was full the night he came in. The crisp air struck his skin as if millions of little icicles were prodding him. He walked through the doors nonchalantly yet decisively, carelessly yet carefully. Amongst the hordes of has-beens that frequent the bar, drunkenly reminiscing and glorifying their collective pasts, he stood out. All eyes in the overcrowded room turned to him. All conversation halted, even if for the shortest of moments, in awe of the aura this man brought with him.\n\nHe approached the bartender. The masses cleared as if making way for a celebrity, out of respect. He hoarsely whispered his order, and handed the employee a hundred-dollar bill. He knew he would be there for a while. The hearts of the men in the room filled with anger, for this man was far superior to all of them combined, and they knew this without exchanging so much as a syllable with him. The women gravitated towards him, without knowing a thing about him. It was truly spectacular.\n\nNow that a respectable sip of the first whiskey in his mouth, the man eased up slightly. More attentive observers would notice a slight, measured smile found itself on his chiseled face. At once, he powerfully placed the crystal glass onto the oak bar and stood up. As he rose, the man captured the normally fleeting attention of the bar-goers. He opened his mouth and began to speak. The first words he formed made the women swoon. His voice was silky and massaging.\n\n“Five years ago, on this day, I was one of you.”\n\nThe crowd began to murmur in wonderment. The man sipped on his expensive drink.\n\n“I was a successful man. I had it all. The money, the women, the cars. The thing with bubbles is, you don’t know that you’re in one until it pops and you fall to the ground, arms flailing. My arms were the least of my concerns when my bubble popped. They got me for tax fraud. My accountant stole millions from me and pinned it on me. I got put away for ten years.”\n\nA circle formed around the man, silent in anticipation. Another sip.\n\n“The day I got out of the high-security prison, the son of a bitch was waiting outside the gate. He was sitting inside his Italian red Ferrari, smoking a cigar and smiling. ‘How was your stay?’, he asked, chuckling. I did five more years for assault. I got out, and there he was again. But I was a changed man. I walked past him. My will was strong. They promised me my job back when I got out, but the firm had long gone bankrupt. My penthouse apartment, my Mercedes, my friends and family. They had all disappeared. What was I to do?”\n\nEven the bartender, a normally stoic man, who had fought two wars without so much as making a noise, began crying. The glass was emptying now.\n\n“I began thinking, as I had done for fifteen years at times of desperation in confinement. I sat down under a bookstore’s pergola and started tracing the steps that led me to that very moment. Life had changed while I was locked up. I was out of touch. Then it came to me. Humanity may never settle, we may continue changing, but if there is one constant familiar to us all, it is pain. And we deal with pain by dousing it with alcohol. I frequented this bar twenty years ago, when the tallest building in the area was the two-story school in the affluent suburb. I knew it would be here, waiting for me. I took a cab.”\n\nThe audience was interested, but began boring from the man’s seemingly pointless story. The man downed the remainder of his drink. \n\n“Two hours later, here I am. Here I am, to announce to the only place that still exists, that shares in my pain and despair, that it is time.”\n\nPeople shared confused glances and shrugs with each other. It happened so fast. To this day, some witnesses swear they didn’t even see him reach into his trenchcoat and pull out the pistol.\n\nBlood formed a pool around his body, mixing with the tears that streamed down his face.\n\n --\n\nI put my trenchcoat on and checked I had everything in my pockets.\n\n“I hope this is the right address. My memory is a bit cloudy,” I thought to myself.\n\nI got in the car and drove to the bar.\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Does God ever wonder who created him?	[ "Humans,\n\nThe trick to a wonderful creation lies in a formula I drew up overtime. The secret is to create things that create other things and so on, like Nature. Science, you know.\n\nAn example you humans might be more familiar with is that literature you create. You look at the stories, pick them apart, talk about this and that and what it did, what it does, etc.\n\nNo matter how closely you look at all the details, there will never be a right answer. The creator will never even fully understand his objective. You decide everything. You decide what you want. \n\nNow, if you'll excuse me, I have several others to write to.\n\n-\"God\"", "It took me about 13 billion years to get intelligent life dialed in and working. Stars weren't too tough, and gaseous planets are simple. Rocky planets are a little hard to get the cores right on but ultimately easy. I'll admit I messed up Mars, but we all make mistakes.\n\nDeveloping sentience was a challenge. Too much free will and they destroy themselves. Too little free will and you might as well be watching plants grow. By the way, plants are great, one of the better things I've come up with; but they're awfully dull to watch grow. But now that I've got a few successful sentient species going, things are starting to get a bit boring.\n\nBoring enough to the point where I'm beginning to wonder.\n\nI just sort of...showed up one day. And I got to work. No downtime, no contemplation, I just knew I had to start creating. I didn't know I wanted to make life, but it just occurred to me sometime that I should. Then I toiled, and focused up, and 13 billion years and some change later, here I am. But that nagging sense of wonder keeps on bugging me.\n\nHow long did it take to make me?" ]	2
This is really open ended, there are a lot of cool possibilites with this one though I think	[WP] In the year 2125 everyone works and socializes through aerial/ground drone technology. You have just been framed for the first murder in 100 years. Expose the truth.	[ "*1 Confirmed Kill\n\nThe message flashed on my screen brilliantly.\n\nI, Fisk Arkhail, have become the first murderer in 100 years. However, nobody will know that it's me. \n\nFirst, let me give you some background. I'm a hacker. I went to RIT, and I got my masters in drone programming there. I am 25, and was born into a very well-known family that specializes in drone-building and drone-programming. I am one of the best programmers in the nation, and I live in total secrecy. \n\nOne autumn night in 2117, when I was graduating high school, I had an idea. I was going to murder someone. No, I* wasn't. Someone else was. Supposedly. I created an entirely new human Identity: Jan Rotschilds. The Government documents would say that he was born in 2091, and that he went to Arizona State. Everything matched. However, there was no Jan Rotschilds. They couldn't accuse anyone of murder. It was perfect.\n\nI had outfitted Jan Rotschilds' AR-77 drone with a submachine gun. I took it out, and I turned it on. It's engine purred softly, like a warm cat. I flew high, above the RADAR sensors. Then, I locked on to my target. To this day, I still do not know his name. I fired. He fell. Blood splattered on the lonely country sidewalk. Then silence.\n\n---\n\nJon Rothschild woke up to a knock on his door. \n\n\"Hold on, be there in a minute!\" He said, confused. Why would someone, an actual person, be knocking at my door? he thought. \n\nHe walked to the door, and opened it. A police drone. \n\n\"Uhh, hello. Is there anything I can do for you?\" Jon squeaked nervously. Have I done something wrong?\n\n\"Yes. Come with me.\" The officer buzzed at him. \n\nThe two left, and walked down the road to the station nearby. \n\n\"Mr. Rothschild, I regret to inform you that you have been accused of murder. There is undeniable proof. You will be expected to testify in court next Tuesday. Be there in person.\"\n\nJon Rothschild blinked, unsure as to what just happened." ]	1
	[WP] Life is an endless cycle. Birthmarks are scars from how we died in our left from our last past life. It's simple really. You die and then you wake up, never remembering what happened.	[ "The instructions were crystal clear. I would know the target by the jagged scar on his left cheek. I knew nothing about the man, but apparently, he had pissed off somebody with power. Somebody with a lot of power. But that somebody was going to make sure that this would be the last time I ever had to do this sort of \"job\" again. He was paying very well. Well enough that Jamie and I would be able to move somewhere new, and start over fresh. He had promised.\r\rBecause of that promise, I was here, waiting in the garage of a man I had never met, a man who had done me no wrong. But he's the last one. That thought kept me here, waiting in the shadows, clutching the knife that my benefactor had given to me. He was very... Insistent that this knife was to be the man's end, and that I was to leave it behind when I was done.\r\rThe garage door started to open, and I hid deeper in the shadows as his car rolled in. He parked, and let the garage door close behind him. No sooner had he stepped out of the car before I was behind him, one gloved hand covering his mouth, the other held the knife to his throat. \r\rI stood there, stock still, taking in the moment. I had done this a dozen times before, in a dozen different ways, but this one felt somehow... Different. It was going to be the last time I ever had to do this, so I let myself do something I had never done before. I spoke to him. \r\r\"I'm sorry,\" I said, as I quickly drew the knife across his throat. \"but this is for my family.\" I lowered the man to the ground, and watched the life drain from his green eyes. Before they started to fade, they were the same shade as Jaime's.\r\rI made my way outside through the front door, and texted my benefactor from my work phone. I'm finished. I slid the cheap disposable into my pocket and reached for my personal phone. My face fell as it powered up.\r\rThree missed calls and 17 text messages from Jaime. She had gone into labour over an hour ago. I ran the three blocks to where I had parked my car and sped towards the hospital, towards my new life.\r\r***\r\rI arrived just in time. There she was, holding our son. She looked up at me, still a bit woozy from the epidural. \"Look, Bill.\" she said, \"He's got my eyes.\" \r\rI looked down at my newborn son. She was right. He had her eyes, a jagged scar on his cheek, and a thin white line along his neck.", "I've figured it all out. Life is meaningless. All we do is commit ourselves to the same mundane lifestyle again and again. We like to pretend we're more interesting than we actually are; our lives aiming to impress others.\n\nBut you know what? It doesn't fucking matter. No matter how well you do, or how shitty everything becomes, you just end up back in the same exact place. Again. And again. And again.\n\nMost people don't remember, but I do. I don't know why. I don't I could even begin to understand. That's just the way it is.\n\nYou know how some people have birthmarks but others don't? Well, listen closely. \n\nBirthmarks are how we died in our previous life. \n\nI say previous. It's all the same unending cycle anyway. Well, almost. Some people who have no birthmarks, they're new. Most of us have something though. Something to mark it out. I saw somebody with a giant red patch covering their face a few days ago. Probably a fire or something. \n\nI've got so many birthmarks now. Mottled specks of skin; dark coffee shapes swirling with the cream of my flesh. A jagged seam across my wrists, a mulberry spot on my temple. Even something that looks like a rash around my throat. All different reminders of how I 'died'. \n\nI don't know if it's the same for anybody else, but every time I come back, I never experience a childhood. I'm just suddenly here again, with all the memories of a childhood, but I'm not too sure I was actually there for it. Just a new body with new marks.\n\nBut here's the thing. Every now and then, I see somebody walk past who looks familiar. We all get that, don't we? A face in the crowd, a faint glimmer of recognition, and then the moment passes, a frozen nanosecond sealed away forever in time. \n\nBut the faces I see, I know who they are, I know everything about them.\n\nBecause they're all me. Each time you see a face you know, it's your own face from the last life you had. Everybody I meet, I'm meeting myself again.\n\nI am my own friend." ]	2
Start with the title or end with it.	[WP]"What do you mean we're out of milk?!"	[ "\"What do you mean we're out of milk?!\" he said, completely confused as to why I would bring something so trivial to him.\n\n\"I mean exactly that Mr. President.. we, as in the United States, is literally almost OUT... of milk.\" Saying it out loud sounded absolutely ridiculous. Frankly it didn't sound any better in my head. \"All the cows in America stopped producing milk 18 hours ago. No one knows why. Extensive testing has been done by several doctors and... ummm.. lactation experts but no ones found the cause... We're currently trying..\"\n\nBBBRRRRRIIIINNNGGGGG BRINGGGG BRIINGGG\n\n\"Oh for fucks sake, what now?\" the president says picking up the phone from his desk.\n\nBBBBRRRIIINNNGGGGG BRRRIIINNGGGGG\n\n\"Huh, umm.. why is this..\"\n\n\"Mr. President that's the Red Phone ringing..\" I corrected, shifting awkwardly.\n\n\"Oh. Well umm.. Hello, yes, This is the President.\" He says picking up the receiver. \"Woah, woah, slow down.. I can't understand a word you're saying! Oh, well hello Mr. Putin, what seems to be the problem? What!? No, I didn't fuck with your cows.. why would I fuck with your cows? LISTEN!! WE HAVE THE SAME PROBLEM HERE TOO!! Yes, yes here too. Yes, no milk. Yes, 18 hours or so?\" He says glancing at me to confirm the time. I nod vigorously and awkwardly shift feet again while glancing up at the ceiling.\n\nThis is so fucking stupid.. this has to be a dream. How did they get the ceiling that white? It's like super white.. I wonder if there's a color called 'super white'... That crown molding is really fancy.. \n\n\"GOD DAMMIT I'LL FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING ON AND CALL YOU BACK!!\"\n\nI'm staring at the curtains, which look nice, they're this golden kind of silky something.. as the President fixes on me.\n\n\"Hey! Guy! JENNINGS!\" he almost screams.\n\n\"Yes, Mr. President?\" awkward food shift\n\n\"What. The. FUCK! is going on?\" He says looking shaken.\n\n\"To be completely honest Sir I have no fucking clue. This was just brought to me about 15 minutes ago. Apparently the CDC, homeland security, doctors, and.. well anyone who knows anything about disease, health, cows, titties and milk has stuck something somewhere on a cow and still no one has a fucking clue. There's still the milk at the processing and pasteurizing facilities.. and the trucks on the road carrying it.. but the dairy farms have stopped.. and based off the Red Phone call I don't think we're the only ones.. so.... that's what I mean Mr. President when I say 'We're out of fucking milk.\"\n\nEDIT: grammar and such", "Ugh. All I wanted was my coffee. It seemed like every morning my household had the same damn problem. What we're they doing with it, bathing in the stuff? \n\n\nI could catch no peace. Never was there a calm morning. Every day I woke up and they were all awake shouting and wrestling, knocking pictures off the wall even. \n\n\nLooking at me for breakfast, looking to me to drive them to school. All I wanted was my coffee. I get up and brew it, biting past the sharp pains in my head that flared with every shriek of laughter.\n\n\nHow do they even walk in the morning, much less chase each other through my house? I could barely roll out of bed to dump grounds into the filter anymore. That morning piss? Forget it. They had claimed the bathroom, too. Just want my coffee.\n\n\nToday, like every other damn day, they sat around the table throwing cereal at each other and yelling at me about how we didn't have any milk for their cereal. How often did I have the urge to tell them to just eat the dry flakes? \n\n\n\"Milk is for my coffee, not for your bottomless bowls of cereal, you demonspawn monster gremlin children!\" I'd say, and they'd just stare at me and wait for me to run off and get more milk because I'd look at them and say \"what do you mean we are out of milk?\" \n\n\nThey'd look behind me at the coffeemaker and the house would be silent for a few seconds as we stared at each other over the table tense as gunslingers in a duel listening to the beautiful music of the coffee brewing.\n\n\nI swear I'm going to make them buy their own milk with their allowances if this keeps up. \"What do you mean we are out of milk?\"", "I woke up, can't wait to eat\nGot my cereal, boy was I beat\nOpened the fridge, and to my dismay\nThere was no milk, my mother will pay\nI want some milk, my coffee grows cold\nI want some milk, I should've been told\nI wish I had some god damn milk\nMy Cheerios just can't the same\nI wish I had some god damn milk\nToo bad the milkman never came\nI can't go out to the store\nI'll just wait till my mother buys more\nI'll just have wheat thins and beer\nI'll get sick, the toilet is near\n\n\"What do you mean we're out of milk?!\"" ]	3
	[WP] Undeniable proof of Hell's existence is found. In the wake of global societal chaos, you go to visit your brother, an inmate on death row. His execution is in three days.	[ "Calling it front page news would be an understatement. It was front page, back page, and every page in between. Even the most ardent atheist couldn’t reject it. Black coffee and toast, as usual, though I couldn’t say I’d been hungry in days. The friday Times was only three pages, and consisted in it’s entirety of open lefter from the Pope. It read like something between a surrender and confession, urging all the pious of the world to unite, to keep the course, something about the valley and a shadow of death. I read it all without really reading it. \n\nIn the car, stopped at a redlight. I am going over the narrative in my head. I’m not sure what Josh has heard. I’m sure the prison cut off TV, or have they? Are there rumors on death row the Hell has come to earth? Stopped at a red light. What do traffic laws even matter anymore? \n\nThe time line. Monday, a terrible horn heard world wide. It sounded so primal. Doors thrown open showed the sounds wasn’t just inside my house. A horrible crescendo and it ended. The TV on, news quickly spreading, the same noise, all across the globe. But what did it mean? \n\nTuesday, Derweze. The gates to hell, open at last. It had been a tourist site, until the messenger came forth. A lone figure, cloven feet, disfigured beyond comprehension. The first to swear that he was the devil was slain on sight. Do not use the Lord’s name in vain. The days since, a horrible cascade. Scientists and satanists alike, burned at the stake. Horror, fear, madness. I had to talk to Josh. \n\nThe state moves with inertia. Slow to start, slow to stop. They affirmed that the execution was on. He was so much calmer than I, though He has always been level headed. He was the same way during the Trial. He swore it was a false accusation, but the state commended him to death. He just turned the other cheek. He didn’t cry at the sentencing, instead held his head high. He spoke first, I know what’s happening. I tried to offer details, but He waved them off. The end is near. I spoke of appeals, of the clemency. He waved it off. No brother, the END is near. His emphasis not mine. \n\nHe stopped, looked me in the eyes. We never look into each other eyes. He said the world was made in six days, and on the seventh “god” rested. His emphasis, not mine. He said He wasn’t afraid to die our sins. He said that it would all be over in three days, then He would be one with his Father. Then the war would begin.", "This is great. Everyone's going crazy. Small towns are burning to the ground, and cities have become rampant with crime. The whole fucking state doesn't know what's up or down anymore.\n\nHe's had his day coming for a couple years now, for a murder he was framed for. I still feel the hate for the judicial system that I did when he was sentenced. But today is good. Today, I'll get him out. I have to go now.\n\nMy '83 pinto has been falling to pieces since '84, not to mention I'm low on gas. Some chariot this'll be for my brother. \n\nAlready I can see the mobs. The preachers and damners and flocks that have gone mad with hell-talk. The only difference now is that they've lost their sense of morality. I've got to do my best to avoid them.\n\nThe prison's a few miles into the bay. I'm going to need a raft or something.\n\nThe streets don't look good. Homes on fire, cars broken into.\nI drive by a patrol car. There's a cop. Dead...I wonder which way he went.\n\nWal-mart's no longer the embodiment of civilized human behavior that it once was. There's teenagers with gardening tools and kitchen knives at the doors.\n\nDamn it, I need that raft. I'll just try talking to them. I'm sure they won't miss what I take.\n\n\n\nFuck, my head. That fucking mongrel must've knocked me out. Shit, where am I?\n\n\"'Bout time you wake the fuck up!\" He's got a Beretta on his hip. What the fuck are these kids?\n\"See, it's no fun when they're asleep. You don't get to see them beg.\"\n\nMy hand's are tied, it's dark, and I don't see an exit. My brother needs me.\n\n\"So what's your name, hun?\" He's pacing around me.\n\n\"Celeste. My name's Celeste.\"\n\n\"Well, Celeste, I'm guessing you know what I want.\"\n\n\"I left my wallet in the car.\"\n\n\"No, no, I don't your money. No use now, is it? No, I want you.\"\n\nThis kid's lost it. I've got to get this rope off somehow.\n\n\"What do you think, Celeste? Wanna have some fun?\"\n\n\"Fuck you.\"\n\n\"Hah! We'll get to that, don't you worry. But why don't we let the hunger sink in first, see if you're not a little more willing after a few days.\"\n\nHe's gone. There's a door just behind me. Alright, Celeste, calm down. Just get these ropes off.\n\n\n<<< I'll finish this later on, gotta do some studying. btw, I appreciate any criticism, I wrote this kinda quick-like :)>>>" ]	2
	[WP] After years of searching, you and your partner find the Holy Grail. Congrats.	[ "We were using scalpels. Scalpels! Fixing a rift in history itself at the rate of milimeters a day. Even one petrified splinter could not be missed. The area above us was a no-fly zone. We might as well have worn hazmat suits.\n\nIt's undeniable this time. We had gradually climbed the mountain of evidence, followed lead after lead after lead, and this was the sixth time we thought we had it. A revolution in the way people see history. I could smell the new textbooks.\n\nWe would give thousands of speeches to starry-eyed students. We wouldn't have to work another day. We would be a shoo-in for the Nobel prize. We would be remembered.\n\nGeniuses, we would be called. Botticellis, Michaelangelos. We were from New York, the seat of modernity. Just like those great men of the past who lived in Florence. Their city contained some of the greatest geniuses the world and was the engine that pulled the Renaissance and humanity into the beauty of modernity. \n\nBut it didn't happen because there was just some random collection of great people, suddenly conglomerated into one city while the rest of the world was left to squalor.\n\nI remember the math and sociology graduate students that helped us model the interactions that occurred so long ago. I remember my sixth grade history teacher who took us on that field trip. I flipped through the thousands of pages of survey and research notes that had burned themselves into my mind, written by an uncountable sea of unseen faces. \n\nGreat people are everywhere all the time. It just so happens that only occasionally are cultural and historical and economic forces such that they will be remembered for hundreds or even thousands of years.\n\nEveryone walking around outside the barriers could be unnoticed da Vinci and an unmade Machiavelli. What separates the great people that none remember from the great people that everyone remembers?\n\nWe're staring down at what was essentially at this point a priceless lump of coal. Visions of ever-echoing cheers, flashes of red carpet, stabbing points of light and the avalanche of noise and attention focus on me like the sun melting an ant. It's free from the ground. We've done it.\n\nWho are we to be launched into halls of fame? What have we done that no other person could do?\n\nAnd whose cup is this to make us so important?\n\n", "\"Whew, Elsa, that was close, how did you manage to climb out of that pit and escape with me and my father?\"\n\nElsa Schneider looks at Indiana Jones and fixes her tousled blonde hair. \"It was the power of my love for you, Indie.\"\n\nIndiana turns to his father and smirks, but before he can turn back to Elsa she has already lunged forward to kiss him. Dr. Henry Jones raises his thick black eyebrows and rolls his eyes at Sallah and Marcus Brody, and the three older men scratch their heads and pretend to be distracted the the contours of the cliffs or the dust that is still rushing out of the collapsing temple behind them.\n\nAfter several long minutes of passionate kissing, Henry Jones clears his throat. \"Junior?\"\n\nIndiana stops kissing Elsa for a moment, but he doesn't look away. \"Not now, dad.\"\n\n\"What happened to the grail?\"\n\n\"Indie!\" Sallah says. \"Was it lost in that terrible cave-in?\"\n\n\"I should certainly hope so!\" Marcus Brody says. \"Such an object has already led to the deaths of so many people, although many of them were asking for it, I should think—\"\n\n\"It shaved one life, however,\" Henry Jones says, rubbing the healed bullet wound under his shirt.\n\n\"It was not lost, Doctor Jones,\" Elsa says. She pushes herself away from Indiana, unravels the grail from her sweaty, dusty uniform, and holds it before the four men, her eyes glowing. \"No, it was not lost at all.\"\n\nThe ancient wooden grail shines in the desert sun, and a heavenly chorus of angels seems to sing from somewhere on the other edge of the canyon.\n\n\"We should deshtroy it,\" Henry Jones says.\n\n\"Verily,\" Sallah says, \"the grail is nothing but trouble!\"\n\n\"But dad!\" Indiana says. \"That's your life's work, right there! We found it!\"\n\n\"All that remains is to quaff of the immortal liquid within, and we will live forever!\" Elsa lifts the grail and speaks to the white sky. \"God obviously meant for us to find it, He meant for us to rule the world, our flesh impervious to bullets, our blood forever healing, forever everlasting—until the Second Coming!\"\n\n\"God knows men were not meant to use such things,\" Sallah says.\n\n\"That is precisely what I was going to say,\" Brody says.\n\n\"I will share it with all of you,\" Elsa says. \"Then we can destroy it, to ensure that no one else can challenge our rule.\"\n\n\"Thish ish a terrible idea,\" Henry Jones says. \"Sharing the planet with a beautiful Nazi. Junior, we have to—\"\n\n\"Dad, how can you say that? The grail water already went inside your body! You're probably immortal as it is!\"\n\nHenry Jones shakes his head. \"That didn't count, it wash jusht a flesh—\"\n\n\"Let us test this hypothesis,\" Elsa says, tucking the grail back into her uniform, pulling out a luger, and aiming it at Henry Jones. \"Let me see with my own eyes if the grail is as powerful as the legends foretold.\"\n\nHenry Jones raises his hands and steps back, the other men rush to stop her, but it's too late—Elsa fires once, twice, three times, and Henry Jones staggers back into the dust, the smoke rising from his body.\n\nIndiana looks at his love, his face contorted. \"Elsa!\"\n\nBut Henry Jones turns over and throws the three bullets at the Nazi. She blocks them with her arm, laughs maniacally, holsters her pistol, and then takes out the grail again as Henry Jones stands and brushes the sand off his clothes.\n\n\"Come, my friends! Let us drink of the immortal fountain of life! None of us ever need fear death again! You already had a sip, Indie, did you not?\"\n\nIndiana Jones nods at Elsa, smirking, and then turns to his father. \"Sallah and Marcus might as well join in, at least to keep us company in a few thousand years.\"\n\n\"A few thoushand yearsh! Junior, I can barely shtand you now! After all thish woman hash done to ush, why, you're practically a Nazi already, my own shon—\"\n\n\"Dad, you know I hate Nazis, all of them except her, anyway.\"\n\nElsa has already grabbed a canteen from a nearby horse, filled the grail, and taken a sip. She sighs, closes her eyes, and then hands the grail to Sallah.\n\nHe looks at Indiana significantly for a moment, and then he raises the grail with one hand, says \"To Immortality!\", and takes a sip.\n\nMarcus Brody does so as well, and then Elsa places the grail on the desert sand, strikes a match on her leather boot, and lights the dry ancient wood on fire. The grail vanishes into smoke and flames.\n\n\"Now no one will ever be able to contest our rule,\" Elsa says, turning to the four men, all of whom seem younger, stronger, more muscular than before. \"Come, my friends, let us march on Germany. Let us conquer the world.\"\n\nShe raises her fist, Indiana bumps it, and after some groaning and eye-rolling from the other three men, they join in as well.\n\n\"To the Immortal Five!\" Elsa shouts.\n\n\"The Immortal Five!\" they shout after her.\n\n—\n\nThe Five didn't need their horses. They sprinted across the desert, day after day, night after night, the dunes whipped up into dust storms behind their blurring legs. They passed towns and cities without stopping for food or water, and the guards at customs checkpoints would order them to stop, raise their guns, beg them to stop, plead with them to stop, and then fire, one after the other, and the Five would just run past—a beautiful blonde woman and four young muscular men in tattered clothing sprinting as fast as anyone possibly could, sometimes flicking flattened bullets away like cigarette butts.\n\nWord came that they were approaching Germany. Newspapers around the world began printing rumors of five unstoppable long-distance runners making for the heart of the Third Reich. Hitler himself read the papers over tea with Goebbels and the two shared a laugh at the absurdity of it all.\n\nBut the route out of Jordan, through Turkey, and thence into Nazi Germany, was relatively unguarded compared to the Eastern and Western fronts, and soldiers were sending in reports—screaming over the radio, swearing by the Fuhrer, by God, by whatever they could think of—that they had tried and failed to stop the runners. Machine guns had opened fire. Tanks had blasted them. Motorcycles had driven up alongside and the riders had let loose streams of spattering gunfire, only to have the guns yanked out of their hands and stuck inside the wheels. \n\nGeneralfeldmarschall Ernst Busch enters Hitler's private quarters after a gentle knock, salutes, hails his master, clicking his heels.\n\n\"Well?\" Hitler says from his favorite armchair, petting one of his German shepherds. \n\n\"It is true,\" the Generalfeldmarschall says. \"There are five of them, and so far as we are able to surmise, Mein Fuhrer, they are unstoppable.\"\n\n\"Is it the grail?\" Hitler says.\n\nThe Generalfeldmarschall looks down. \"We lost contact with the expedition sent to collect it.\"\n\nHitler jumps up, eyes bulging out of their sockets, and the German Shepherd cowers. \"I want you to find the grail! Send everything we have! Abandon the East, abandon the West, the grail is real, you fool, and these people have drunk from it! Defeating them will be impossible without their powers!\"\n\nThe Generalfeldmarschall bows. \"Javol, Mein—\"\n\n\"Don't waste time!\" Hitler shoves him toward the door. \"Go now, you fool! Go before it's too late! Every soldier, every tank, every airplane, boat, zeppelin we have, every child in the Hitler Youth—send them to Jordan, and tell them not to come back without the grail! Go!\"\n\nThe Generalfeldmarschall ducks out of the door and runs past the room of secretaries standing from their typewriters to stare at him.\n\n(Continued...)" ]	2
	[WP] "Hatred hollows you out. Then it fills you up."	[ "Audio Archives of Scientist Richard Engolstadt\n\nDay 37\n\n0346 Hours\n\nLocation: Classified\n\nBreakthrough has been achieved! The cranial restructuring has been successful thus far. Subjugation of subject 36 codename Mike Charlie is nearly complete, and control of subject via neural shackles is underway. Memories have been erased from said subject, and rewriting of mental capacities has been resuming thus far since zero hour. Scarring has been erased, and outbursts of violence have been curved so far using heavy opiates. Eagle has been informed of success and has ordered redoubling of efforts. Firebrand has been doubtful of success, and while I am excited to keep the project going, there is still a familiar sense of...unease that lingers still. While I keep these feelings inside, I fear that we are tinkering with things more dangerous than we imagine. \n\nDay 45 \n\n1432 Hours\n\nLocation: November Delta Project Site\n\nWe're dead. We're all dead. The demonstration for the project went so wrong. Firebrand...Firebrand was torn limb from fucking limb. We didn't imagine that the subject's memories would still remain dormant. What's worse, we've given it everything it needs to destroy. It was the main purpose of its creation but not like this, never like this. Somehow, it's realized what we've done to it, and it's out to hunt us one by one. Somehow someone was able to question why he was doing what he was doing. In response, he just looked at us with these dead eyes, and he just murmured \"Hatred hollows you out. Then it fills you up. You've all shown me this. Let me show you the hatred that you've created.\" \nFuck...\nSilence ensues\nThis is Richard Engolstadt. Realize now that Subject 36 is loose. Initiate Status Omega, and say your last prayers. He's coming.", "1939, November 19th\n\nWarsaw, Poland\n\n\"Siostra? I'm hungry...\"\n\n\"Jan, not now.\"\n\nThe rain-filled clouds filled the cold morning skies. What I can remember of her was her flame-colored hair and emerald eyes as she hold tightly onto my small hands. We were hiding for weeks now, scurrying from hiding spot to hiding spot. Nowhere was safe, only safer. Nazi patrols were getting more frequent, and we heard tales of Jews herded onto trains going West. My sister got word that someone could get us out of the city. We were standing by the ruins of a bar for hours before daylight, it's patrons long dead or shipped away. \n\n\"Are you Magdelena?\"\n\nShe turned around quickly. A rusted knife we found the day before in the bar in her hands.\n\n\"Relax, młoda dziewczyna. I mean you no harm.\"\n\n\"Are you Tomasz?\"\n\n\"Tak. Now quickly we must go. The Szkops are getting...\"\n\nA giant spotlight shone unto the bar. \n\n\"Aufhören ! Sie sind alle verhaftet!\"\n\n\"Kurwa! They've found us! Quickly now!\"\n\nMy sister scooped me up and followed Tomasz through the back. Gunfire demolished the mahogany counter where old men used to drink. Sirens can be heard throughout the city. And more Nazis began pouring into it. \n\nI can remember that it was the day I first heard my sister swear.\n\n\"Młoda dziewczyna! You're bleeding!\"\n\n\"Ja pierdole!\"\n\n\"Here, let me...\"\n\n\"Nie, Tomasz. We have no time.\"\n\nI looked up to her. My siostra. The only family I've had left. Her eyes brimmed with tears and determination.\n\n\"Siostra?\"\n\n\"Jan, go with Wujek Tomasz. Your siostra needs to take a breath.\"\n\n\"No, I wanna stay with Siostra!\"\n\n\"Jan, you must be a man now. A man cannot stand behind his sister. Go with Tomasz.\"\n\n\"Młoda dziewczyna! We have no time!\"\n\nShe took out her bracelet. And gave it to my hands.\n\n\"Jan, hold onto this. It's my lucky charm. I will come back for it.\"\n\n\"Promise?\"\n\n\"I never break a promise, Jan. I love you.\"\n\n\"NOW!!\"\n\nTomasz threw me across his back and ran. \n\n*\"Siostra!!!\"\n\nThe last sight of my sister was the several men surrounding her. The leader, a cold smile with a golden watch, looms over her. \n\nThen there was darkness.\n\n***\n\nHours later.\n\nTomasz walks up to me. The campfire does not give any warmth. \n\n\"Eat, chłopak. You must be hungry.\"\n\n\"Wujek?\"\n\n\"Yes, Jan?\"\n\n\"Teach me how to kill Szkops.\"\n\nTO BE CONTINUED", "The Duke of Marchaunt walked into the great podium, as sure of success as he was of the bright blue sky. He heard the political whisperings herald his arrival into the circular marble amphitheater, whisperings of greatness, of wariness, of murder, of ambition- all from the seats all around him.\n\nHe had walked through the hallways he had not walked in years, the high vaulted windows and barreled ceilings of the Noble Hallway that led to the Chamber of Succession.\n\nHe could hear* every word, feel every thought.\n\nThat's the emperor's bastard, the lords said, huddled around in tight groups within the perimeter of the wide stone circle. He's the favorite, they muttered, discomfiture evident in their words if not in their comfortable positions in the satin seats.\n\nThe Succession Chamber was very beautiful, tales of it flown around the world, from the kingdoms of Arique to far-off the trade cities of Thessai. It was a massive stony circle, at least 500 feet across; it was rumored to be so big as to provide the ancient third emperor with a place to rest his pet wyverns over a thousand years ago. But the beauty still remained; the windows shone with light, no matter the weather, the white stone remained clean without scuffing, the sunlight from the oculus in the ceiling never hot- all a testament to the arcane mastery of the nobles of Arranfel, the same nobles sitting and plotting within the circular seats surrounding the Duke of Marchaunt as he strode into the circle. He could feel them observing his appearance; his eagle's nose, black hair, violet-eyes, crimson and gold cape set to white armor-the living image of his father, Emperor Letus the Second. \n\nHe took his seat in a rather plush chair, just left of the throne that was at the top edge of the circle.\n\nThe throne where his father sat.\n\nWhite haired, ancient, wrinkled skin, yet still holding onto his scepter and staff, The venerable King motioned for audience to stop.\n\nVoices hushed, immediately extinguished.\n\n\"Emperor Letus, heir to the eldritch throne, conqueror of the nine isles, king of the chosen, lord of the nine councils, slayer of the demon Azeth, chosen disciple of Theoren,...\"\n\nThe Duke of Marchaunt sighed, his every move noted by the crowd of people around him. The same parade of noise every time, the same facade until the first and last sentence.......\n\nThe Duke relaxed in his chair, putting on an eager, listening front, but asleep on the inside. \n\nAfter the small talk, recesses, and hours upon hours of small talk, the time had come. The night had darkened, the oculus dimming, a remnant of the bright light of the morning. The braziers of newly-lit fire reflected upon the Duke's armor as he sat upright, ready for his fate and destiny. Father would finally, formally, officialy choose him as the heir to the throne! All would be forgiven as his father would embrace him and explain why the Duke had been sent away, why there were no replies to his letters, why he never saw his mother, why-\n\n\"Enough with the small talk,\" King Letus said, small, archaic voice echoing through the antechamber and cutting through the buttery-slick voices of the minor lords.\n\n\"It has come to the time to choose my heir.\"\n\nVoices in drawn, breaths hushed in deference.\n\n\"I am aware of the many bright spots of our empire.\"\n\nEach mind immediately was assured of its own supremacy.\n\n\"But I believe I have found the best fit to usher in a new age of prosperity.\"\n\nThe Duke readied himself to walk up and out, ready for the cheering, the looks of jealousy.....\n\n\"I choose Adembre Redfield, Count of Redfield, knight of valor, and general of the Redfield Chargers. Claim your inheritance, Redfield!\n\nThe Duke stood flabbergasted, looking at the impossibly perfect, muscular specimen that approached the king, lost in the thunderous applause that greeted Redfield, applause meant for him!\n\nHe left silently, wheels of a demented mind turning and crushing all in its way.\n\n\n\n\n# :\nKing Letus gestured to his retainers.\n\n\"Go on, I'll be fine.\"\n\nThe opulent palace bed surrounded him, comforted him, safe from the tumultuos going-ons of politics. A week had passed since his abdication, and he felt more and more peacefu-\n\nBAM\n\nScreams.\n\nThe king got up, aged arms reaching for the arcane energy that was his birthright and seizing it. Ethereal armor settled over his worn, ancient body, a massive ghostly sword in his hand. He walked out carefully into the secret passageway that no one but the royal family knew about, where his elite guards would always be waiting, a whole platoon-\n\nBut when he struggled out of the passageway and into the Chamber of Succession, there was only one figure, one man in bloody white armor, one man with violet eyes and a hawkish nose.\n\nAnd then he spoke. \"Hello, father. I still remember the time you showed me about the passageway, you know.\"\n\nThey circled each other on the inside of the circle, the duke's hands glowing with a reddish flame, the transparent armor of the King casting its luminescence across the shattered room.\n\n\"How did you kill them?\" the king asked, grudging incredulity in his tone. They were the best of the empire, hand picked.\n\n\"Oh, simple really. I sold my soul.\" And in that screaming instant, the Duke launched forward streams of fire toward the king over and over. The flame ate at the armor, consumed and burned until there was nothing left but a scared old man.\n\nThe former king scrabbled back seeking something anything, until he reached the cold, uncaring wall.\n\n\"W-why?\"\n\nThe Duke paused for a second, a contemplative figure in the bloody room filled with corpses and moonlight. He started walking again, arms lengthening into obsidian appendages shot with streaks of red, his legs forming long pillars of shadows and darkness, with a skull-like head that sprouted horns.\n\n\"Why?\" it asked, now-deep voice reflecting a hidden madness. \"Why, you ask?\"\n\nIt raised its hand, greenish fire dancing around long onyx claws.\n\n\"Hatred hollows you out, father. Then it fills you up.\"\n\nThe claws came down, and down, and down, an unheard clapping for the would-be king.\n\nAuthor's note: Please let me know what you thought of the story. Criticism is welcome! Did I do a shitty job with this fantasy, or are you interested? Go ahead and say what you think.", "In the beginning, it was mindless rage. Lashing out in bloody spectacle, reacting and reacting and reacting. I'll be honest, there were probably people I left broken behind me, who might not have been at fault. Standing in my way, or just, wandering into it. Might have been a lot of people. I got it out of my system, the excess rage, grief, and pain. I passed it onto those around me. Selfish, yeah, but it needed to be done. \nThen when the rage had been bled out to a managable level, a level I could control, I directed it. Anger turned to hate, and hate turned to suffering. A near religious drive to punish, an obsession with seeing it done. I was unstoppable. As the targets became more elusive, I simply became colder, more calculating, more patient. My revenge became complex, and I learned to make it poetic; To show them, at the end, how severely they had been mistaken. It was brutal, it was shocking, and it was not glorious. \nThen it was over. I couldn't find one more person to blame, not one more person who was involved, no one who profited from it, no one who had witnessed my rampage. And I was left with nothing. I had lost everything but my soul that night, and collecting the price for it cost me that. I had only the mission to give me purpose, and when it ended I had none. \nWhen I turned, to look around me, find something in the world to fill the emptiness inside, I realized. I saw all around me, more people in need of punishment. It went beyond the people who had wronged me, to the people who created them. Created the world that shaped them. Promoted it. Profited from it. Stood idly by with the power to stop it, allowing it to continue. I realized my mission was not over, that it would take me so much farther. And the hollow spot in me was filled again. \nAnd I will not stop again until I am done.", "Iroh blinked, frozen, shocked by the unexpectedness of the embrace - but as soon as she had initiated it, she broke away.\n\n\"Are you certain you do not require any assistance in reforming the homeland?\" She asked, as curt and abrasive as usual. Iroh could see through her tough exterior, though, and knew she asked out of care and concern for himself, although any other person would have never guessed she had an ounce of compassion in her - showing it was not an ability she had been born with, unfortunately.\n\n\"Thank you, Azula, but you are a leader and a soldier. You are most needed out there, capturing the rebels and finding Zhao. Strong, passionate people like yourself must be there to inspire others in restoring balance to the world. Leave the politics and governing duties to the old people, like myself,\" he joked.\n\n\"As you wish, Uncle.\" She stuck out a hand, which Iroh attempted to shake warmly, despite her stiffness. \"I am proud to be your niece,\" she stated, referring to the changes Iroh was bringing to the Fire Nation and the hope he was restoring to the world. It was slow going, but Iroh could see that she was becoming more personable every time they met. \"Expect a letter soon.\"\n\n\"I look forward to it,\" Iroh said, \"your letters are a welcome distraction from the debating of the advisors.\"\n\nShe almost smiled, but caught herself. It was something she was still learning to be comfortable with.\n\n\"And hey,\" Iroh said, stopping her from turning to leave, \"speaking of nieces, I wouldn't mind seeing some grandnieces or nephews someday.\"\n\nAzula gave a hesitant nod, acknowledging the underlying sincerity below his joking tone. \"We shall see,\" she said. \"Ty-Lee has been attempting to instruct me in such matters - under your suggestion, no doubt.\"\n\n\"I may have mentioned it,\" said, Iroh, smiling.\n\nUncertain what else to say, she wished him luck and gave a quick farewell before turning to leave. Her two guardsmen followed a moment later, still frozen in shock at their witness to their leader's humanity.\n\nThe door closed, leaving Iroh alone with his thoughts. He quickly attempted to busy himself by collecting the tea cups and saucers, but the reality of the day set in nonetheless.\n\nIt was the anniversary of the tragedy that had left him and Azula as the only known remaining members of their family. Azula's visit helped to lessen the grief, but the sadness and remorse Iroh felt was beyond any comforting presence.\n\nYears had spent hunting the Avatar, and as each season rose and fell, the hopelessness and rage built in Zuko. Iroh had done his best to console him, but after his brutal banishment and the growing feeling of futility of his journey, Zuko had closed himself off from people. Their crew became increasingly incompetent with every rotation, and their ship began to break down as the repairmen grew less and less willing to commit the resources to doing a thorough job.\n\nAfter a while, they just sailed the cold, empty seas, with neither direction nor purpose. Contempt grew in Zuko, contempt for his father, for his home. The hatred hollowed him out, then filled him up, until Zuko finally commanded their crew to sail back to the capital. There, Zuko broke from the ship and made his way into Ozai's palace. His hatred fueled his fire into an uncontrollable inferno that claimed not only his father's life, those of the military heads and the royal servents, but his own as well.\n\nIroh would never again be able to muster up as much love for another person, as much as he tried for Azula's sake and for the people of the Fire Nation. He had had so much hope in Zuko. He'd loved him like he had his own son, and this second loss had broken something in his heart that he had held onto so very closely.\n\nIroh placed the dishes into the sink and used it to support himself as he sobbed and shook, alone in the silent room. Tears ran down his cheeks in little trails, collecting on his nose, where they fell in droplets and mixed in with the tea leaves." ]	5
	[WP] You know that you're going to die tomorrow. Today, you're spending time with your best friend, the person who will kill you tomorrow.	[ "We started working through the bottle of fine Scotch when the last light remained in the summer sky. Now a canopy of stars hung over us and the whiskey sloshed around, about a third of the way down the bottle. Max was already facedown in the grass, undoubtedly trying his hardest to resist a trip to the treeline to relieve himself. Reluctantly, he crawled to the bottle and poured himself another finger of the drink. I admired his focus as he screwed the bottle shut with the tips of his fingers, then collapsed face first into the picnic cloth.\n\n\"To the man who knows every fucking thing!\" he droned\n\n\"Aye\" I said quietly.\n\n\"Must....drive you mad?\"\n\n\"In a manner, yes\"\n\nAh dear Max, still managing a remarkable level of empathy. It's what endeared him to me now. I poured myself two more fingers. \"What's on your mind, mate?\" I asked as I sipped my drink, the prospect of lying down on the grass suddenly seeming a lot more practical.\n\n\"Money...need some fuckin' money I do. Gimme some lottery numbers?\"\n\nI grinned \"Where I see it from, your money is already gotten and spent, with little consequence.\"\n\n\"Bastard! I must be like ..a nothing to you, mate.\"\n\nI didn't reply. He was right. Nothing meant much when you knew everything and for all time. \"I enjoy drinking with you, pal\" I offered, half heartedly.\n\n\"Fuck off, mate. You're here for old times sake. Well, make ....make knowing you worth it for me then? A ...\" a loud burp \"party...parting gift?\"\n\n\"You'll kill me tomorrow, no one will suspect you. The guilt will consume the rest of your life\"\n\nMax moves surprisingly quickly for a man in a drunken stupor. The first punch knocks me on my back. Another three and I'm seeing stars, my universe is nothing but pain. \n\n\"Stop!\" I plead.\n\n\"Enough. Enough of your fucking holier-than-thou, condescending bullshit. What've you done with your ....gift, aye? Feed the ...poor? Clothe the....naked? What? You're still an insufferable, smug twat like you always was.\"\n\nI struggled to open my eyes but the lids wouldn't budge. \n\n\"No Max. The problem is no matter what I do, I know it's for naught. It means nothing. It's all...I know how it ends.\"\n\n\"Well, make it a bloody fun ride then.\"\n\n\"I can't have fun Max. There is no meaning in anything. It all means nothing. Besides, you'll kill me tomorrow. It doesn't matter\"\n\nI lay quiet as I felt a handful of mud thrown on my chest, then another, each accompanied by a curse, \"Cunt! Bastard! You're right, I'm gonna take a piss then come back and do you in\"\n\nHe didn't have to. The little venomous critter so greatly disturbed and displaced by Max's outburst crawled out of the mud and onto my neck. I barely noticed the sting. The swelling spread from the bite bursting into all the tissue of my neck. Ordinarily, this dose of poison was not fatal, but my immune system was on full alert trying to control the swelling in my face. The toxin in the poison used my own system to amplify it's effect. The muscles in my neck and throat started squeezing my own windpipe. The toxin By the time Max came back from his leisurely piss, I was turning blue. He didn't notice for a full four minutes. I was brain dead when he called for an ambulance. I bit the bullet on the way to the ER, Max was sobbing in a corner of the ambulance, still clutching the bottle of whiskey. \n\nThe coroner declared time of death to be 12.23 am.", "I was suppose to meet Henry at 3 a clock sharp. However it was around 4 when he finally came wandering in. He smelt like booze and looked like shit. \"Sorry, I missed my bus\" he said as he sat down across from me. The once vibrant red hair that spread out across his shoulders was now gone. A kicked over ashtray would best describe his hair now, or what was left of it.\n\nHe had certainly seen better days, or maybe it was just nostalgia clouding my vision. I had left our little hometown, drove down to New Orleans and set up shop. He had stayed put and manned the home front. His once rebellious nature had taken a turn and he had gotten a job at his father's shop. He had hoped to one day run it but his father worked longer than expected, and he lost his nerve, took up some bad habits.\n\n\"It's not a problem man, how are you doing?\" I asked but I knew the answer. It's just what you do, you know? Should I let him know that I know he's homeless, living in some alleyway with a syringe through his wrist half the time. \"I've seen better days, how about yourself?\" He picks at his scabs, doesn't quite make eye contact and feigns a smile. \n\nI contacted him a couple of days ago after I had heard from an old buddy that Henry had gotten kicked out of his parents flat. Even though I was warned he wasn't the same man I befriended in high school I came racing to help as soon as possible. I was going to do everything I could do to help the man. Tomorrow I had a meeting set up with a property manager, I had already explained Henry's situation on the phone and he understood. It wasn't much but it'd get him on his feet again.\n\nIt was a regular sunday afternoon, I had sat down to watch some football and then it happened. In the span of the half time show I saw my death. It's in his hands I die. All of my memories, everything that makes me me, perishes. He reaches down, grabs my wallet and walks off into the night. Henry Pelker, drummer extraordinaire, one of my groomsmen, murders me for the 950 dollar down payment I had for his new flat. \n\n\"I could say the same thing myself\"\n", "We've known each other since the dawn of time, you love me and I you. At some point so far back neither of us can remember we became Brothers, united against the world at large. You and I inseparable and unbreakable. Yet I know things you could never imagine. I look into your eyes and I see so much more than you want me to, I see the sorrow and the tears yet unshed. I see the anguish and the divine struggle which tears your soul in two, and I ache for you. Every piece of my being wants to take this great weight from your shoulders and bear it myself, but I can't. It has to be you, it always did and always will.\n\nI want to drive you away, to some how make this all that much easier on you. The deed of course, is already done and you think it's for the best you really do. I see it in your heart, it's written all over your face. You do this because of our love, because we are Brothers. End my suffering now before it gets out of control, if you hurt me then nobody else ever can. I understand, but those aren't the words which spill from my mouth.\n\nI shout at you. I don't mean to but I'm afraid and it shows in every twitch of my lip, in the wide expanse of my eyes. Please, don't let me die. But it's too late and now you know what I know, because I spilled my final secret. 'One of you will betray me.' And you look at me with cold eyes, eyes so filled with hatred that I break in that very moment. Tears stream down my cheeks because I want to call you back, I want to beg your forgiveness but you're gone and I know that next time we meet you will sign me away – it will not be with a blade to my heart but with your lips, my Brother, that you will kill me.", "I'll die tomorrow. And you'll kill me. There are no words in any language to express what I feel right now for you. Gratitude. I won't thank you, but you can see it in my eyes. This cancer eating my insides, making me rot away before I'm even dead, thank you for sparing me from that. I'm too much of a coward to do it myself, or not enough of a coward, since I already waited for the disease to overtake most of what I used to be. You were always the brave one between us. Thank you for taking this burden off my shoulders. I know you will have to be the one to live with its consequences. Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything changes. Today I'll spend it with you. I loved you once, and I love you more now but I think, because of this, that you were always the one to love me more than I loved myself. My best friend. Thank you. " ]	4
apparently people aren't sure who aaoron sorkin is: Writer of West Wing and The Newsroom (among others). Famous writer with a really distinct style. Watching The Newsroom and the wife and I were joking about this being a writing prompt.	[WP] If Aaron Sorkin wrote porn.	[ "OPENING SHOT OF THE WHITE HOUSE LOBBY, EARLY IN THE MORNING. \n\nCJ CREGG WALKS BRISKLY THROUGH THE ENTRANCE, IMMEDIATELY JOINED BY TOBY. THEY PEDECONFERENCE ON THE WAY TO CJ'S OFFICE. \n\nTOBY: You seen the numbers from HUD? \nCJ: Toby, I literally just walked through the front door. \nTOBY: So have you seen the numbers from HUD? \nCJ: No, Toby, I haven't seen the numbers from HUD. What are they? \nTOBY: Property prices have hit an all time high. \nCJ: Well that's good news for people looking to sell, isn't it? \nTOBY: But bad news for anyone looking to buy. \nCJ: Funny how that works. \nTOBY: You're probably going to get a few questions on it from the press. Emphasize that urban development is skewing the average, and that housing is still very affordable in suburban and rural areas. \nCJ: Skewed by urban development, still affordable in hicksville, got it. Anything else? \nTOBY: Are you wearing new perfume? \nCJ: Yes. Now go away. \n\nTOBY PEELS AWAY FROM CJ AND IS IMMEDIATELY REPLACED BY SAM. SAM AND CJ PEDECONFERENCE. \n\nSAM: CJ, have you heard anything about Congressman Wiley defecting on the budget vote? \nCJ: I just got here, Sam. \nSAM: So did I, but I just heard that Wiley's threatening to hold up the vote. \nCJ: Well, convince him not to. \nSAM: You know what he's going to ask for in exchange, don't you? \nCJ: What? \nSAM: You know what he's going to... \nCJ: Oh for crying out... we're still not past this? \nSAM: Wiley's not, so we're not. \nCJ: No, out of the question! \nSAM: Okay, I'll talk to Leo and see what our options are. \n\nSAM WALKS OFF, TO BE REPLACED BY CAROL. \n\nCAROL: CJ, you have two calls you need to return. \nCJ: Well I hope both of them are earth-shatteringly important. \nCAROL: One's from James Benson from Ways and Means, and the other's from Congressman Wiley's office. \nCJ: (stops in her tracks) Wait... Wiley called me first thing in the morning? \nCAROL: Well, his office did. \nCJ: (deadly serious expression) Carol... I need to talk to Leo right away. \nCAROL: (realizing the seriousness of the situation) Yeah... yeah okay. (runs off) \n\nOPENING CREDITS \n\nLEO'S OFFICE. CJ IS WAITING INSIDE ON LEO'S COUCH, LOOKING APPREHENSIVE. LEO ENTERS, FOLLOWED BY MARGARET. \n\nLEO: Margaret, we're done talking about this, we are not going to add ferns to every office in the White House! \nMARGARET: They create oxygen! Oxygen is important! \nLEO: Margaret, out! I need to talk to CJ. \nMARGARET: CJ agrees with me, you know. (looks pleadingly at CJ) \nCJ: (ignoring Margaret) Leo, Wiley's threatening to hold up the budget vote, and he called my office this morning. \nLEO: (sudden grim expression) Margaret, out. \n\nMARGARET HEARS THE SERIOUSNESS IN LEO AND CJ'S VOICE, AND LEAVES THE ROOM WITHOUT A WORD, CLOSING THE DOOR AS SHE DOES. \n\nLEO: What did Wiley say? \nCJ: I don't know, I haven't returned the call yet. \nLEO: Well, we know what he'll ask for. \nCJ: Leo... \nLEO: We know what he'll ask for. And you're the only one who can decide whether to do it. \nCJ: Leo, this is ridiculous! You can't ask me to sleep with a congressman, even if it is to help this administration! \nLEO: No, you're right, I can't ask you. I can, however, order you to do so, but I'd rather not let it come to that. I want you to decide for yourself. \nCJ: Leo... \nLEO: CJ, I'm going to have Margaret set up a lunch meeting for you and Congressman Wiley, and then have Carol clear your schedule for the afternoon. Toby will do the press briefings while you're gone. You can use your time however you want. Go with Wiley, or go home, or start browsing the classifieds for a new job, whatever you want. It's up to you. It's time to make a choice, CJ. It's time to decide just how far you're willing to go when you said you serve at the pleasure of the President. \nCJ: (flabbergasted) Leo... no... I won't... \nLEO: (putting on his glasses and turning away from CJ, reading papers on his desk) It's up to you. \n\n", "A pimply-faced pizza man knocks on the door of a deluxe L.A. mansion. A voluptuous, forty-something, ex-beauty queen who couldn't handle it when she lost the spotlight and destroyed her face in order to retain any self-respect she had left, woman answers the door seductively.\n\n\"Oh, hello there.\"\n\n\"You order a large sausage lovers pizza?\"\n\n\"You bet I did\" she said, scanning him up and down.\n\n\"That's fifteen dollars.\"\n\n\"Fifteen dollars? Oh dear, I don't think I have that much on me.\"\n\n\"Ma'am. You're kidding.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid not, I'm so forgetful. Maybe there's someway I can repay you.\" She lifts her skirt up ever so slightly.\n\nThe pizza man lets out a stern, disappointed sigh.\n\n\"So, let me get this straight. You were horny. Correction, you are horny. So you call a pizza store, order a specialty pizza -- one that isn't even on the menu -- and ask for delivery based on the astronomical chance that a hunky, strapping pizza delivery man will come walking to you door willing to fuck someone he just met? We haven't even met yet! We aren't even at the acquaintance level yet! Do you really expect me to do that?\"\n\nShe drops the act.\n\n\"Listen carefully because you're about to do something very stupid. Think about the opportunity you're being offered here. You see this house? It ain't mine and it damn sure ain't my husband's. That van over there. There on the driveway. Do I look like a woman that would own a van like that? Of course not. And you...\" she gives a chuckle.\n\n\"And you are surely no 'hunky, strapping' man that a lonely housewife would fuck at the drop of a hat. Now tell me, why would I make you the offer I just did?\"\n\nThe pizza man ponders his situation.\n\n\"I have two guesses. Number one, you're a serial killing seductress that hunts pizza delivery men. Number two, you're filming a porn and instead of hiring some actor who will demand union wages, you want to find some guy on the street who will do it for a hundred dollars.\"\n\n\"I didn't know Pizza Place hired Harvard grads. It's fifty.\"\n\n\"You're a whore.\"\n\n\"You're a nerd.\"\n\nThey stare at each other intensely. \n\n\"Slut.\"\n\n\"Virgin.\"\n\n\"Tramp.\"\n\n\"Pussy.\"\n\n\"Harlot.\"\n\n\"Dweeb.\"\n\nA pause. They make out intensely. They rip each others clothes off and head into the mansion. Inside, cameras and studio lights point at the scene.\n\nThe pizza man, realizing that he is about to be filmed fucking some woman he just met, stops for a moment.\n\n\"Fuck it, I'll do it for free.\"\n\nexquisitely shot sex-scene" ]	2
	[WP] Upon dying you find that you're allowed to choose which religion's afterlife you go to.	[ "I wish I could say that my last words had been something profound, but in actually what i said was \"Oops\"... and now I was staring at the charcoal silhouette of what had been my mortal remains on the wall of the particle accelerator's collision chamber.\n\n\"Well, that's a new one\" \n\n\"New what?\" I asked... looking round for the source of the voice.\n\n\"New way of dying, haven't seen that before.\" a young woman clad in a pure white business suit said stepping though a doorway that just seemed to be hanging in the air. \"Hi there... I'm your Guide.\"\n\nYou could hear the capitol letter even. \"Umm...\" I prevaricated..\"Look, no offence but I'm a bit new at this being dead thing, and I wasn't really expecting there to anything afterwards you see. I'm an atheist... well sort of.. maybe a bit paganish... Look, I'm just really undecided ok?!\"\n\nShe smiled like the sun coming out after along grey, rainy day in Cleethopes. \"Oh that's quite all right sir! It's really not that unusual for people to be rather less sure of themselves when faced with Eternity. That's what we're here for, to show souls like you around and let you choose.\"\n\n\"Wait.. what? Choose what?\"\n\n\"Your Afterlife sir!\" She beamed... I was beginning to wonder if she'd been a sales woman while alive, she had that sort of air of undying optimism, and the same way of pronouncing capital letters and exclamation marks...\n\n\"Umm... well, I thought, well guessed... Heaven, maybe?\"\n\n\"Ohhh.. well, if you absolutely wanted to.. but I don't think they'd let you in.. and honestly, most souls do seem to choose something else... tell you what sir, why don't you flip though the catalogue and see if anything takes your fancy.\"\n\nSomehow, without me noticing it, we were in a large white room...well, more like a endless plane with no visible walls or a ceiling. There was a table and chair, both white and both of which could've come straight from a Swedish furniture showroom in the 70's. On the circular table was a computer tablet... with a very familiar logo on the back. I sat down, picked it up and started flipping though the pages...\n\nI've no idea how much time passed. I knew neither hunger or thirst, but then I was dead after all. My guide went away for awhile and came back... several times actually... eventually she sat on the edge of the table and asked.\n\n\"Having a little difficulty choosing are we sir?\" her smile seemed just a little bit pasted on this time..\n\n\"Well, yes actually. Eternity is long time to be stuck with a bum choice after all.\" I sighed.. \"Some of them look kind of ok, but when I got into the details there were.. well.. drawbacks to all of them.\"\n\nMy guide sighed and pinched her nose, her smile gone completely. \"Oh dear... you're one of those sorts aren't you?\"\n\n\"One of what?\" I asked, a tad peeved at being one of whatever 'those' was...\n\n\"You analyse everything... you pick at things, take them apart..\" Really, her frown was actually kind of cute, if it hadn't been absolutely terrifying.\n\n\"Umm.. yes? I mean, I am a scientist... taking the back off things to figure out how they work is sort of a requirement...\" ... Look, nobody had ever accused me of having a well developed sense of self-preservation in life, in fact excessive honesty was more often the charge, and clearly the habit remained. \n\nShe stood up and the clack of her moderate stiletto heels hitting the floor was like the crack of doom. \"Right, well we have a special place just for people like you... right this way. Come along.\"\n\nHonestly, I did think about running...but it was a featureless white plane, so that seemed rather pointless. Besides, I was curious. Just what do you do with people like me? Ones who've no idea where they belong and would get bored doing anything forever. So, I followed her...\n\nI can honestly say.. I was not expecting to step though the ominous looking doorway, into a vast open space... so vast there were whole worlds floating in it like balloons in an endless sky. My Guide strode along an impossibly slender walk way up to a platform dominated by what looked like the mother of all whirlitzer organ consoles crossed with a forest of computer monitors.. behind this bewildering array of controls was a white haired man.. wearing a Hawaiian shirt of retina searing hues, cargo shorts and mirrored aviator glasses. He had a large pink cocktail with a ridiculous amount of unnecessary fruit draped over the rim in one hand... and a grin that was infectious, as if he was high on life, or afterlife. \n\n\"Another one for you Boss... he's a good one.\" And my Guide handed over a folder with my picture on the front, smiled warmly at me and smartly walked away...\n\n\"Ain't she a pip... gave you the 'Look' did she? Ah Well, if you didn't bolt you passed the test... glad to have you on the team son.\" The young-seeming man said.. \"You're just going to lo-o-ve the job here.\"\n\n\"Ah.. wait.. what job? And who are you?\" I floundered..\n\n\"Tsk, bright spark like you, would've thought you'd figure it out by now. You've spent your entire life figuring out how the universe works.. time to start helping build them. Yup.. I'm God.. your new boss. Welcome to your idea of heaven.\"\n\nand you know.. He was right.", "We stood, finally, upon the peak of a mountain. He, my guide, turned to me and spoke, even though I already knew what he was going to say.\n\n\"That is all of them. You will now have to choose.\"\n\nI considered for a moment. Some of the 'heavens' were kind of nice. However, most of them had ridiculous conditions for entry and you could end up in their 'hell' counterpart, if you choose poorly.\nStill, it was none of that, that made me say this.\n\n\"I made my decision the moment we met. I even told you so. I'm thankful for the effort, but my opinion didn't change.\"\n\nHe smiled jovially.\n\n\"Surely you understand now that you were wrong. You've been mislead. No such place you desire exists.\"\n\nHis words infuriated me.\n\n\"This is all wrong. What difference does it make if the idea was not bound to a religion? Why can't I get the afterlife I desire?\"\n\nI noticed I've been raising my voice and felt embarassed for a moment. Here I was shouting at this ancient spirit like an angry child. He didn't seem to mind and offered his advice.\n\n\"You should choose one of the afterlifes that promise knowledge before all else. Perhaps then, your question would be answered.\"\n\nI was already shaken up, it took me a few seconds to process his words. No, this won't work either.\n\n\"What difference would that make then? I would already be stuck with my choice.\"\n\nHe nodded his agreement.\n\n\"Yes, indeed. For a moment I though it was perhaps knowledge you most desired.\"\n\n\"Knowledge, huh? I already told you what I desire.\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\nI noticed my guide was deep in thought. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again.\n\n\"You'd be surprised how many people will make a decision without going through all the options. It's been a long time since I had to show all of the many heavens and hells. It's just a handful I ever brought to this mountain and you're the first to not want any of them. Most of those who do want to see them all are just afraid they'd be missing a much better alternative. \"\n\nI sensed an opening.\n\n\"Isn't that obvious? An enternity is a very long time to be stuck in someone else's paradise you don't desire.\"\n\nMy guide looked me in the eyes.\n\n\"The rules are clear. Everyone is required to make a choice. Noone can be left in limbo. Since I have nothing more to show you, you must now leave it.\"\n\nI felt uneasy. Perhaps I pushed too far. Perhaps this was heading towards a very bad ending for me. I didn't dare break the long silence that ensued.\n\n\"I must accept your request. I will now take you to this lesbian cloud you described.\"\n\n\n\nSorry for the joke ending, I wrote myself into a corner.", "The Entity -- what I had named it -- led me down a long hallway -- what I had chosen to call it. In truth, The Entity may not have been an entity at all, rather some intangible aura or subtle manifestation of a collective subconcious, or an omnipresent sensation of bonhomie. Are such things 'entities'? And where I wandered was not a hallway, not really; some six-dimensional rough analogue, which if you squinted, might make serviceable the comparison. \n\nMy feet did not move. My arms did not move. My eyes did not swivel in their sockets. But I walked, and I saw. What I saw was this:\n\nCherubs plucking harps. Men and women in togas and stolae, cavorting in amber fields. Men in repose on ottomans, each surrounded by six dozen young women. I saw whole families sitting together at long galley tables, saying grace and singing praises, and they really liked cream of mushroom soup. I saw ceremonial dances and generations of ancestors performing rites to protect those who had not yet arrived. Each scene in its own room -- or rather, bubble -- or rather, pocket -- these ramshackle descriptions must suffice until you see it too. \n\nThe Entity had the annoying habit of always seeming to be just outside my peripheral vision. Each time I tried to inter-dimensionally cast my view about and catch glimpse of it, it slipped away, like smoke through a grasping hand. It was innately upsetting to some small piece of my hindbrain, which sang out and demanded that I look at the thing speaking to me, though I could not. Itch that cannot be scratched.\n\n\"I may choose?\" I said again.\n\n\"You may choose.\" It said.\n\nThough to say 'I said' and 'it said' would be another poor analogy. The laws of physics are not so entrenched at all points of space, as it happens.\n\n\"What are you? God?\" \n\n\"You have no word for me.\"\n\n\"Can you make one up?\"\n\n\"This way, please.\"\n\nI saw burly warriors at burled tables sloshing what must have been mead. I saw satyrs despoiling virgins, I saw the unity of all things in a frankly kind of spooky half-intangible sphere of light. I saw a clearinghouse, souls rolling in on a great conveyor like cattle in cartoons of abbatoirs, although the end result was not ground chuck -- just a gentle sigh and a sudden dissipation. These were the ones who chose to have another go, I gathered. \n\nI saw a floating being made from pasta. I saw things for which I would have names if I had been better educated in the esoteric beliefs of old. I saw infinitely many more places filled with beings definitely not human, partaking of holy pleasures I did not fully understand for reasons of simple biology. And I saw Jesus. Yes, I saw Jesus. He looked like a nice man. \n\nThese visions had one commonality. They were eternal.\n\nTo live for an eternity. Dream of all sentient creatures. \n\n\"May I choose nothing?\" I asked.\n\nThe Entity thought. \n\n\"Some have chosen thus.\"\n\n\"Very many?\"\n\n\"Infinity may not be divided into itself. I work on an individual basis.\"\n\n\"I want nothing, then. Nothing, nothing.\"\n\nThe visions ceased. I felt myself surrounded by gentle pressure, like plunging into a bath of warm milk. And then: beatific oblivion.", "At first, there was only a blindingly white light, but Jeb's eyes soon adjusted, his mind reeling, wondering if he had made it or not. Only moments ago, he had passed his beer in its foam \"coozy\" into the care of his brother Jeremiah while he was about to show him up good; now, he stood in a place that seemed as though it were made entirely of light. \"Watch this\" his own voice echoed faintly in the distance of his mind.\n\nA gentle voice, not quite next to him but almost within him, broke his thoughts: \"Welcome home, Jebediah.\" Jeb saw before him an elderly man in flowing robes. \"Wh'r--... wh'r' am I?\" Jeb asked.\n\n\"The more important question is where will you be. You have passed on. This is where you get to decide.\"\n\n\"I-- I'm in Heaven?\"\n\n\"In a manner of sorts,\" said the man in flowing robes.\n\n\"I ain't in Hell, am I?\" a sudden fear washed over him.\n\n\"No,\" the old man said with a grandfatherly chuckle. \"No, though I never grow tired of that one. You lot certainly are a cynical bunch. Have no fear: there is no such thing.\" \n\nJeb stood silent for a few moments in uncomfortable confusion. He finally replied, \"then who'uz right?\"\n\nThe old man responded with a bemused expression, \"no one... and every one, to a degree. Let's go for a walk,\" he added, placing a comforting arm around Jeb's shoulders, leading him on a path that Jeb had not noticed - or had it not existed? - only moments before.\n\nThe two strolled along, coming to a sort of ethereal cul de sac. The old man led him past some gates with unfamiliar symbols on them, arriving at one that was simply a large pearl with what looked to be an X and a P inscribed on them. \"You see, you have many options; this, for instance, may be the one with which you feel most comfortable.\"\n\n\"Oh, shee-oot!\" Jeb exclaimed, recognition dawning. \"So them's the Pearly Gates and you's St. Peter!\"\n\n\"Yes and no. I am a reflection of what is in your mind. You've no need to choose until you've seen as many as you like, but let's see what awaits if this is your selection.\" And with that, the great pearl rolled to the side and the old man took Jeb through. They slowly rose above the streets paved in gold and the many mansions, eventually coming to the center with the throne of God and Jesus at his right hand.\n\nJeb turned to the old man and asked, \"So th'r's Jesus an' God an' the angels an' servants, but where's all the people?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid this option has not been very popular in recent centuries.\"\n\n\"But what about all the people who love Jesus? We didn' take the Lord's name in vain, we went to church, we fought ag'inst the abortionists an' the lib'rals... an' y'r tellin' me all them people went somewheres else?\" The old man nodded in reply. \"Well, where'd they all go?\"\n\n\"Some join the universal fabric of Nirvana, others prefer the regal Tian, while others still prefer the ambrosial feasts of Asgard or the lush valleys of Elysium. Not many prefer the realm of Tlaloc either. But most of your people choose Jannah.\" Jeb stood in confused silence. \"Let me show you.\"\n\nThe old man once again led Jeb with a calming arm around the shoulders, taking him to a gate with luscious flowers whose tendrils interwove the golden bars and released an intoxicating perfume. There were odd squiggling lines and dots across a golden, circular shield that registered as vaguely familiar to Jeb. The gate opened and as they crossed into Jannah, they were greeted by human-like creatures with many wings, saying, \"Welcome to Jannah, peace be upon you!\" The old man returned the greeting and continued to lead a silent Jeb forward. They rose into the air as the creatures sped off.\n\nThey were in a lush garden filled with all manner of plants bearing figs and dates and cool, clear rivers punctuated by cascading falls. There were people everywhere and each man was surrounded by scores of beautiful women, carrying fruit and wine. The air was fragrant and warm and, as they came to a rest, Jeb found the ground cool and comfortable.\n\nSuddenly, a man who looked not unlike Jeb came rounding a hedgerow with his entourage of women. He grinned as he made his way toward Jeb, a man walking with a purpose. Jeb recognized him; \"Uncle Aaron!\" he shouted, running toward him. They embraced but Jeb's joy quickly turned to confusion. \"But, Uncle Aaron, why're you here an' not with Jesus? Y're a Southern Baptist pastor, f'r goodness sake!\"\n\n\"Jeb, son,\" Uncle Aaron paused, glowing. \"Was a shock t' me too, maybe e'en more so 'an you, spendin' my life in His service. I thought the Mohammadans were Satan's own 'til I got here. But look aroun' me,\" he waved to his harem, each woman smiling coquettishly, and then to the garden surrounding them. \"Ain't this Heaven?\"\n\n\"Y're telling me they'uz right about the 72 virgins? F'r not even blowin' y'rself up?\" Uncle Aaron nodded in response. \"An' all y'all do all day is eat, drink, an'....\" Uncle Aaron's eyes scrunched as he let out a belly laugh and nodded. \"Well, I'll be,\" Jeb paused as the thought washed over him. He turned to the old man who was waiting with a bemused grin, \"Sign me up!\"\n\n\"You're quite sure?\" the old man asked.\n\n\"Absolutely!\"\n\n\"Very well then. Peace be upon you both.\"\n\n\"And upon you as well,\" Uncle Aaron replied for the both of them. \n\nThe angels returned, \"Jebediah - the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon his name, wishes to welcome you with a feast and present you with your 72 houri. Come.\"\n\n\"Go on, now - I'll join you then. They'll g't you all set up,\" Uncle Aaron encouraged a smiling but unsure Jeb.\n\nJeb took off with the angels and Uncle Aaron returned to his own houri and the elderly man in the flowing robes returned to the bright light of Limbo, chuckling to himself, \"my beloved Sons of the South, they always pick Jannah in the end.\"", "Of course there would be a line. Isn't there always? I tapped my foot impatiently as the elderly woman in front of me had the receptionist explain, for the second time, that she wasn't going to be able to go to her Tuesday bingo session at the rec center because she had died a few hours ago. I get that the poor thing was confused, but we were all a bit miffed so maybe she could just help the line move along.\n\nFinally the receptionist called someone and had special permission for her late husband to be sent up to help with the transition. I stepped forward and waited, tapping my finger quickly on the counter. The woman behind the desk just clicked away on her keyboard. Without looking up she spoke in a bored voice, “Welcome to AfterLyfe, your one stop shop for all your eternal needs. Do you have valid registration?”\n\n“Yes, dammit.” I said sharply, “This is my third time through the line. I have my registration and a copy of my proof of death. Can I please just move along?”\n\nThe receptionist took a deep breath, and turned her gaze to me, showing just a moment of fiery hate and madness. It was gone so quickly I may have just imagined it and was replaced by a plastic smile and the same monotone voice saying, “We do apologize for the wait, our service representative will now be able to see you, please go to the third door on the left, and head right on in.” She turned back to her computer ignoring me. I grabbed my papers and walked down the hall.\n\nI knocked on the door and heard a cheery voice say, “Come right on in buddy, the door should be unlocked.” I reached out and pressed the handle down, taking a breath before I stepped inside. I was expecting something different but I shouldn't have been to surprised. It was a small room with a desk in the middle and two chairs in front of the desk. On the walls were various posters of families and couples, laying in grassy fields or jumping through the air as they were part of some cheesy motivational powerpoint.\n\nSitting behind the desk was a man that perfectly resembled my mental image of a typical car salesman. Slicked back hair, slightly awkward looking suit, and a huge smile that looked almost painful as if his cheeks were forcibly being lifted up. On his chest was a name plate saying “Charon.”\n\n“Please take a seat here...” his eyes flicked to the screen on his desk, “Mr. Richardson. I'm sorry for the wait, you know how it is.” He gave a chuckle as if we were old friends. “It gets like this around Holiday season.”\n\n“Look, I just want to hurry this along,” I said with a sigh as I took a seat in the overstuffed chair.\n\n“I totally feel you buddy, we just need to pull up your info here and see what we can do. Do you have any idea what package you may be interested in? If I may make a suggestion the Golden Plus Bundle is on sale this week, courtesy of our sponsor the Coca-Cola Company. You can even use your Coke Rewards points.”\n\n“I'm not really interested in that sort of thing, I can't afford most of this anyway.”\n\n“We have several payment plans and offers. If money is an issue, previous Comcast customers get the Deluxe Hell package and you will pay the same monthly fee for eternity without any raises in your bill. Exclusions apply.”\n\n“I'll pass, okay? I guess reincarnation would suit me better.”\n\nHis smile faded half an inch as a juicy sale slipped through his fingers. I knew for a fact that my mother-in-law would be in Heaven, I could hardly spend five minutes with the woman let alone eternity having all my life choices judged. He typed on his computer for a second before saying, “Well if you are looking for reincarnation we have several options, but if price is the main concern you can sign up for a BuddhaNet account and you get a free spin from the reincarnation wheel, courtesy of our sponsor Wheel-Of-Fortune.\n\n“Sure that works,” I said quickly.\n\n“Alright, we just need you to provide an email address for your account or you can log-in if you have previously made a Atman account before.”\n\n“I'll make an account.”\n\nHe turned his screen around and slid the keyboard to me. I typed out my address and personal information. It took three tries but I finally got the CAPTCHA right and the page refreshed. Suddenly there was a pop-up on the screen. “I'm sorry, this e-mail address does not meet with our account creation requirements.” The man looked at the screen for a moment before looking back at me. His smile widened the slightest bit.\n\n“Would you like to create an account using your Facebook?”", "The crash, the roll, the explosion. It all led to this. I was everywhere; bits of me, anyway.\n\nIt was a painful process, the wreck. It was intense, but the pain slowly, steadily ceased. I quickly realized the reason: I was dead. With an injury like being shred to pieces, it would be hard not to die. This was it: the end. I closed my eyes and patiently waited for my mind to go elsewhere, to disappear into history.\n\nAs I lie there, I began to come to the realization that my mind wasn't going anywhere. I scratched my head, my eyes remaining closed. I scratched my head. Last I remember, my hand was across the street, jammed in the steering wheel that had flown out of my car. I opened my eyes.\n\n\"Welcome, sir.\" A woman stood before me. \"What is your destination?\"\n\nI stood up quickly, clumsily falling back down before finally getting to my feet. I stared at her, then at our surroundings. We were nowhere. All was white -- well, it wasn't white -- it was nothing. I tried not to jump to conclusions.\n\n\"Excuse me, sir?\" She asked again, looking at me confused. \"Final destination? What religion do you belong to?\" \n\nNow I understood. I could go to Heaven, or even Valhalla. After a thought, and almost no hesitation, words finally stumbled out of my mouth. Damn, did I make a mistake.\n\n\"I'm an atheist,\" I said.", "Brendan stuffed his fingers in his ears not to drown out the screaming plane engines that were clearly past critical failure but to shut out the shattering shrieks and blubbering prayers of the rather large woman who had been hogging his armrest the whole flight. \n\n\nThere was a burst of white light and feeling of lightness. Sweet relief. \n\nThe world was white. There was no ceiling or floor. Just a man behind a desk with a brochure rack leaning his chair back on two legs. \n\n“Dude! Come on over. We’ve got some great deals goin’ on today. I’m Chad, and I’ll be your advisor.” \n\nBrendan introduced himself and couldn’t help but notice the multiple friendship bracelets around Chad’s wrist. He wore cargo shorts and a flowery Hawaiian-style shirt. He put his feet on the desk and Brendan saw that Chad wore flip flops. \n\n“Do you like hot weather?” asked Chad. \n\n“Not too hot,” Brendan said. \n\nChad chucked the brochure in his hand over his shoulder. “Then we won’t do Hell. That’s a little extreme for most people. Those adventurous types always want to take on fire and brimstone for eternity, but I’m with you on that one, bud.” \n\n“Anything with a younger crowd?” Brendan asked. \n\n“Cool, cool. I like where you’re going with this,” Chad said. “Want something with a little party going on?” He pulled up a pamphlet and examined it. \n\n“Did you die in martyrdom?” Chad asked, arching an eyebrow. \n\n“Uh, no. Plane crash,” Brendan said. \n\nChad chucked the pamphlet. “They say lots of virgins in this one, but I don’t think you qualify. Sorry, bro.” \n\n“It’s all right,” said Brendan. \n\n“There’s always rebirth, dude. Nothing wrong with that. It might not hurt to take a look at your options there?” \n\n“Is there a washroom around here?” asked Brendan. \n\n“Sorry dude. I can’t let you use the bathroom until you’ve picked a package. It sucks, I know but that’s just the policy,” said Chad. He examined a chart on a brochure. \n\n“They make these things so confusing,” said Chad. “You probably don’t want to be reborn into third-world squalor. The G7 countries always fill up so fast with reborn souls. Everyone wants to get on the waiting list, you know?” \n\nBrendan squeezed his legs together. “Anything?” \n\n“Well, there is one,” said Chad. \n\n“I’m open. I’ve really got to pee,” said Brendan. \n\n“Bro, what are your thoughts on Finland?” Chad asked. ", "'So we really get to pick which one we want?'\n\n'Yes'\n\n'And everything that religion taught is there?'\n\n'Yes'\n\n'So, there will be 72 virgins waiting for me?'\n\n'Yes!'\n\nSaint Peter had clearly lost his patience. An hour of endless questions felt like an eternity in an eternity. A mini-hell. And every new person always asked the same questions again and again.\n\n'Well, I'll pick Islam then.'\n\n'You got it.'\n\nBiggs entered the room. And there they were. 72 Redditors, and cat pictures. Cat pictures everywhere.", "What religion do you follow? I blinked a few times, cocking my head slightly in confusion. \n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, you know. Your primary point of worship. It will determine where you head on to after this.\" the Angel responded. \n\n\"Oh, well, I have been atheist for a long time.\"\n\nThe angel frowned, \"Do you want to pick something, maybe Paganism or something with a cool afterlife?\" \n\n\"Does it really matter? I don't really understand.\" \n\n\"Let me put it like this. The afterlife is based on how you lived, if you truly lived and believed in Atheism, then well there is no afterlife. After our meeting is done, you will consciously cease to exist. But subscribe to something while were talking, and I can put good word in and you could end up having a pretty fun eternity. I am giving you a second chance here.\" he smiled, then slyly said \"I try to help out all the Atheists who come through here, I mean how could you have known?\"\n\n\"Well, I am not really familiar with the afterlives. I guess I will just choose Christianity, I was born to a Christian family and it's really all I know.\" I said, after some thought. \n\n\"Very well! Let me just update your ledger, and... Oh dear. Well it seems you weren't a very good person, it looks like you are going to hell...\"\n\n", "\"The choice is entirely up to you, of course, and you have all the time you like to decide. Literally. However, if you're looking for some guidance, you could do worse than Scalanariasm.\"\n\nJim looked up from the brochure (Page 3 of 15,583,290,456). \"Scalanariasm? I'm not familiar with it?\"\n\n\"Well, you wouldn't be, it never makes it to Earth. Created in the M-498 galaxy, don't you know, which is...let's see...ah, here it is, 8 million light years from Earth.\"\n\n\"Wait, so this is every religion...in the universe? Like, alien religions?\"\n\n\"Of course! What, you thought you were the only ones so enlightened?\"\n\n\"Well...yeah. I mean, I didn't even know there were aliens.\"\n\n\"What? Well that can't be, Earth is a member in good standing of the Galactic Council, after all. You did say you were from Earth, right?\"\n\n\"That's right, Earth. Third planet from the Sun?\"\n\n\"No, Earth is the second planet...hang on here, something has gone south....ah, here's the trouble. You are from Earth Beta.\"\n\n\"Earth Beta? What's that mean?\"\n\n\"Well there are over 9 quadrillion planets in the universe that have supported intelligent life at one point or another, after all, there's bound to be a bit of duplication. You should see how many people just name their planet \"Rock\"...we have a whole separate department to sort those folks out. Now then, Earth Beta, let's see....Hmmm, you were a...how do you pronounce this...Mooslim, then?\"\n\n\"Muslim. Well, actually you may be pronouncing it correctly, I'm not sure, but regardless, no, I was a Christian. I mean, I didn't really practice or anything, kind of gave it up when I moved out on my own, but...\"\n\n\"Christianity, here it is! Well, monotheism, punishment and reward system, morals and....more morals....my it does go on doesn't it? Well, if that is your choice, we can certainly accommodate you. It does appear that there are a smattering of your brethren that have chosen...Heaven, it says here?\"\n\n\"How many is a 'smattering'? Is my grandmother there?\"\n\n\"Let's see, the number as of this morning was...8,345.\"\n\n\"That's it?! There were literally billions of Christians that lived throughout history!\"\n\n\"Yes, but as we've already discussed, you have your choice of any religious afterlife you'd like. I am authorized to provide you with some limited information on what your existence in a potential afterlife would be.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"Well, replace the words 'am authorized' with 'sometimes just for fun'. It's not against the rules or anything, mind you, it's just that most Afterlife Consultants don't really care. I mean, you've saved one soul, you've saved 47 sextillion, after all. I can give you the Top 3 activities in any afterlife of your choosing.\"\n\n\"Uh...OK, sounds good. What are the Top 3 in Christianity.\"\n\n\"Being bathed in an everlasting perfect light, worshiping your deity, and talking with others about worshiping your deity.\"\n\n\"Huh....well that sounds...err...\"\n\n\"Boring?\"\n\n\"I mean, I don't want to sound...heathenish here or anything, but...you had a recommendation earlier...Scalabrineism?\"\n\n\"Scalanariasm.\"\n\n\"That's the one. What's the Top 3 there?\"\n\n\"Orgasmic jet skiing, rocket-powered blackjack, and ambrosia tasting. Oh, and you also get all the powers of Superman.\"\n\n\".....Huh.\"\n\n\"It's one of our more popular offerings.\"\n\n\"....Where did you say Grandma was again?\"\n\n\"According to this, she....oh...it seems she picked a rather...sadomasochistic afterlife. I could give you the Top...\"\n\n\"NO, no, that won't be necessary. Listen, I'm going to give this some more thought, maybe leaf through the brochure some more....this is a lot to take in.\"\n\n\"Of course it is, that's why you have all the time in the world. Scalanariasm though...right?\"\n\n\"It's the leader in the clubhouse, I'll admit.\"", "Sammy flipped through the catalog hesitantly. \"So, any of these?\"\n\n\"Sure!\" St. Peter said enthusiastically. The Pearly Gates was not at all what Sammy was expecting; St. Peter wasn't adorned in white robes and a halo, but shorts, a tie-dyed tee, and aviator glasses. He gestured at the pages.\n\n\"We've got it all, man. You want your own planet, Mormon style? Help yourself!\" He pointed down at the page at what looked like a scene from Endor. Beautiful lush forests shrouded in mist. \"You can even pick which star system you want. But be forewarned: the no coffee or booze rule is permanent!\"\n\nSt. Peter flipped the page, revealing a huge group of scantily clad women. \"72 virgins is maybe more your style?\" He raised an eyebrow suggestively. Weird thing for a saint to do, Sammy thought. \"They're up here waiting for you. But if you go with this one, you're stuck with early morning prayers for the rest of eternity.\"\n\nSammy turned the page again, showing a man sitting lotus style on the banks of a river. \"Ah, the Nirvana package,\" St. Peter exclaimed. He lowered his sunglasses and looked at Sammy seriously: \"No, not the band. This one's cool, I guess, if you're interested in sitting around and thinking a lot. Not my style, personally...\"\n\nSammy gave a \"meh,\" face, and St. Peter flipped the page again. Naked, winged cherubs and fluffy clouds. \"Now, I know you don't want this one,\" St. Peter said. \"I've been there, man. Total snooze fest, unless you enjoy 'Who can stay quiet the longest' competitions and 'who loves God the most' contests. They've got some nice art, though.\"\n\nSammy was hesitant. Was this a trick question? \n\n\"No tricks, man.\" St. Peter said enthusiastically, taking a swig from a flask in his pocket.\n\n\"I don't get it,\" Sammy interrupted. \"I thought the point of Heaven was to spend time with God...\"\n\nSt. Peter offered the flask to him. Sammy shook his head; St. Peter shrugged and took another hit.\n\n\"You humans,\" he said finally. \"Thinking that God is the be-all and end-all. I guess Jesus was a bit too overzealous in talking about how great it was.\" He laughed a little. \"The kid was just proud of his pops, you know?\"\n\nSammy laughed a bit at that, picturing Jesus on the playground arguing that his dad could beat up everyone else's dad.\n\n\"Nah,\" St. Peter continued. \"The big man is more like an activity coordinator on a cruise. You don't take the cruise because you want to spend time with him, do you? You take it because you want to party and have fun with your friends and family. And that's exactly what we're doing up here. It doesn't matter which heaven you choose, man. It's heaven because you're going to be with your loved ones forever. God's just here to keep the house in order and swing by with party supplies. You've already had the best parts of heaven, down on Earth. We're just picking the backdrop now\"\n\nSammy smiled, and St. Peter flipped the page. \"Oh, Valhalla! That's a good one. What do you think?\"", "Megan slammed into the rocks face first. She really shouldn't have tried to take that selfie on the edge of the cliff.\n\nAs she lay there, blood seeping from every part of her body, she noticed no pain. That was surprising. This should really hurt a lot more. In fact, she was quite sure it should have killed her.\n\nMegan had always been a staunch athiest. It just made no sense for there to be an afterlife. All of your memories and personality are part of the brain. If the brain is, say, leaking all over some rocks at the bottom of a cliff, what is left?\n\n\"But here I am\", she thought. \"That splotch there is my frontal lobe, if I am not mistaken. Yet, I can still think and remember. I can even see, though my eyes are pulp.\"\n\nMegan heard a voice. \"That can be arranged. You can choose to cease existing if that is your wish.\"\n\"Who said that?\"\n\"I did.\" said Death. \"Usually I appear as a reaper, but you don't believe in that sort of thing. I can even speak in all-caps for Terry Pratchett fans. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO DO THAT?\"\n\"Uh, no thanks. The calm disembodied voice is fine, thanks. How come I'm not dead?\"\n\"You are dead. That's why I am here, too help you choose an afterlife. You are an athiest, I believe. Though people rarely choose oblivion.\"\n\n\"So, I can choose heaven? Eternal happiness?\" \"Well, no. Christian religions generally send you to hell if you don't accept their god. In fact, it's mostly bad stuff for any religion if you didn't practice it in life. If you think you did good in this life, you could choose reincarnation and hope you're religious in your next life.\"\n\nMegan thought about this. Looking back on her life, she would probably reincarnate as a pig or something. She wasn't the most charitable person. \"Well... How about.... wait, you said most!\"\n\"Most?\"\n\"Yes. There are religions that practice universalism, right? Everyone goes to heaven?\"\n\"Well...\"\n\"I choose that!\"\n\"Sigh. Heaven is getting quite full of you people, you know.\"\n\nEDIT: changed \"generally\" to\"most\", called Megan Susan. " ]	12
Also show me what s/he does to cope with the loss of whom s/he considered to be his/her one true friend.	[WP] Tell me a story where a character gets very depressed over the untimely death of his/her nemesis' because they had a bond better than best friends.	[ "So his old pal didn't make it. Harvey looked at the corpse, charred so much that the only way he could tell it was once a handsome man with golden hair and a permanent frown was the sword, unblemished, by its side. “dam shame” he thought, “he never managed to full fill his promise to make me into a goody goody.” They first met when a super villain, some old kook with a hoard of money and a horde of men attacked a small town with far too little money and just a single white mustached cop who had as many chins as medals. They were only on the same side because he found it more fun when there were more enemies. With the two of them working together with the walrus human incarnate they repelled the super villain without much trouble defeating. The trouble, however, came afterward. He caught him taking a souvenir from the old kook; it was just a small trophy he was about to take, after all the old man's head was small enough, when it was decapitated it was even smaller. The Blondie drew his blade and confronted him and Harvey raised one of his arms in the air while he reached for his gun in the other. Harvey was surprised when instead of grasping the cold steel of a gun he felt the warmth of a human hand, or rather, paw, or flipper, whatever it was walruses had. The cop put his arms around the two of them and thanked them both for saving his town and invited them back for a drink. Though he loved the taste of blood, a cold beer hit the spot just as well. After the celebration had all but ended and it was just the two of them facing one another over a dimly let wood table the Blondie motioned for them to go outside once more, Harvey answered with a smile, blood and beer, today was his lucky day. As soon as they reached the dark alleyway outside Harvey fired without warning but to his surprise the Blondie quickly dodged and knocked him on the head with a sword, knocking him out instantly. As he crumbled to the floor, Harvey began to regret his life, it was all so boring, his killing, it had stopped being enjoyable so long ago, and now he would die like this. But to his surprise, Harvey could feel surprise as he was still alive as he woke up. He looked up and saw a sword pointed at his chest. “I wouldn't have spared your life.” Harvey said. “I didn't spare your life, rather, I own your life now.” Blondie retorted, “you served good even though your methods were evil, and I believe that to simply kill you would be a failure on my part“ Harvey stared in disbelief and then busted out laughing. “Please. I love killing, I'm a psychopath, if I needed to I would slaughter every man woman and walrus in this godforsaken town. I'm beyond redemption, I'll never be some goody goody like you.” With a surprising fervor the paladin drew himself in close and spoke gently, “I believe you are not beyond redemption, and until you become a good man you will journey with me.” Harvey looked into the Blondie’s deep green eyes, they looked back. With a sigh, Harvey asked. “What's your name.” The other man, while helping him up, replied. “I am a paladin of the 5ht order, justicar of the -”. Harvey cut him off with, “I'll just call you pal ok?“. Blondie's, who was now named pal, face wrinkled in restrained frustration as Harvey smiled, enjoying himself for the first time in a long while, this man would be fun. As Pal turned around Harvey tossed down a bomb, putting down smoke everywhere in the alley already made dark by night so that Pal was blinded and with a laugh Harvey escaped, his arsenal of lethal weapons still around his waist. Pal sighed, and continued to leave, when he tripped over a small knife stuck to a note. With a grimace he read the hastily scrawled letter, “see you around pal.” He groaned, realizing he may have bitten off more than he could chew. This feeling only worsened as Pal continued his journey fighting against greater forces of evil, which were often smaller than reported for mysterious reasons, foiling the occasional plot by Harvey, usually a minor robbery that would boost pal's reputation when he returned the item or a prank like bombs that turned out to be grandiose firecrackers that would boost pal's blood pressure, and trading Harvey's smiles for Pal's frustrated grimaces. Through those times Harvey could only remember having fun and when Pal thought no one was watching him as he lied in the warmth of his camp fire he also smiled and even chuckled a little as he recalled some of Harvey's pranks and somewhere, in the forest, within vision, Harvey smiled as well, plotting the next trick he would play on him. Their days continued in as much peace as the two could have until one day in the same town they met a great glowing ship appeared. Pal cursed, even though he was strong he alone could not take down such a great force, he wrinkled his face in frustration thinking of how he could manage it when a smiling figure suddenly appeared in front of him. “Hey there pal, you looked like you needed some help.” Pal just looked at him blankly and said, “finally going to stop with the pranks and join the good side.” To which Harvey, while juggling his bombs, said “nah, I'm the only one allowed to bother you or destroy this walrus reserve”. Then, slowly, a smile broke out as they walked together to meet their enemy. Entering through a circular reactor room with a large blue chamber in the middle, they began to fight their way throughout the ship. The ship was occupied by powerful enemies, robots armed with deadly blades, aliens with lasers, even giant mutant walruses, which they felt a strange guilt over killing. But together, they triumphed. Thought they nearly died multiple times, Harvey almost cleaved in half by a robot before a sword pierced through the robots head, pal pinned down by aliens until a smoke bomb cleared his path, they made it to the throne room and quickly defeated the a massive alien with a crown on his head. With a smile they didn't notice the alien press a button. Suddenly, a loud screeching alarm began to sound along with a countdown. The alien king looked at them with a grin and said in mangled English, “you win, but in end we win, all us die, all you die when ship crash”. Turning pale, the two rushed at the alien but the alien pressed a glowing blue necklace around his neck, blowing himself up and the remote. Harvey began to think about how they could salvage this situation when he thought of the reactor room, the chamber in the middle was similar to the gem the king had, they could blow up the ship. Quickly, he told his plan to pal and told him to leave, to which Pal simply nodded and then he raced towards the room. Harvey reached the room first. Panting heavily from his sprint, Harvey moved forward to end the invasion as well as his life he heard a voice behind him. “sorry friend.” Suddenly his vision went fuzzy as he felt the handle of a sword bash into the back of his head. All he could do was croak out no as his tears mixed with pal's. With a gentle smile, pal tossed Harvey out a window, and turned away. His eyes slowly closing as he hurtled through the air into the trees and then the ground he saw a hand waving goodbye. When he woke up he saw the wreckage and the corpse. He began to dig, thankfully, since the dirt was wet and getting wetter by the second the dig was easy. What was difficult, was placing the corpse of his pal in it, but eventually he put the corpse in respectfully and began to pile dirt over it. When he finally filled the grave he looked at the dirt, it felt too simple, but that was how he would've wanted it. Thinking, Harvey placed the sword on top of the grave. “Never did become a goody goody, guess you failed your promise”, he mumbled to nobody in particular. Then a smile broke across his face, and with a apologetic grin, he laughed and said, “on second thought, you mind if I borrow this old buddy”. Answered by the silence of the wind he replied, “well, not like I care if you do. It's time to take one last souvenir.” He grasped the sword, played around with it in his hands, and walked off, “I'll fill your promise for you then.”\n", "\nTo say the island was far from the rest of the world would be an insult to geographers everywhere. For all intents and purposes, the island didn't even exist. It was on no map, official ones anyway, on no shipping routes, on no flyways, and protected from satellites by some fancy electromagnetic-tesla-coil-coriolis-effect-thing that Billings didn't fully understand.\n\nOh, did I mention the island was shaped like a flaming tiger skull?\n\n\"And so he returns,\" Billings smiled to himself, looking at the closed circuit TV screen before him. He tapped the display, \"Mr. Impossible...\"\n\nAs if on cue, the face of Mr. Impossible turned towards one of the cameras. He smiled those pearly whites, a few of which were not real due to the pair's last encounter.\n\nBillings ran his finger down the long jagged scar on his face, the one that wriggled its way past his all-too-distinct supervillian nose. It had been painful and he had been close to death, but he rose to a new level of super-villiany that day. Billings, or \"Admiral, as he was known, just smiled at the return of his constant opponent.\n\nHe spun his luxurious chair a hundred and eighty degrees, dismounting in one smooth motion without losing a step. Taking his signature cape from its peg near the door, he made his way from the living quarters to the dungeon where, of course, Mr. Impossible would be waiting.\n\nThe dungeon was, naturally, the lowest part of his whole stronghold. It sat beneath a dozen layers of living space, guards, R&D, and various evil-doings. At the very center was a volcano, inactive for the time being although there had been some close calls.\n\nMany of them related to Mr. Impossible.\n\nHe sauntered around the room, not in a pensive or foreboding manner as so many evil villians tended to do, but in a manner of contentment. Everything was as it should be: good and evil fighting it out for the right to rule the world.\n\nBillings, or the Admiral, could hardly remember what his plan was this time. The last few had been hair-brained schemes to blow up the moon with a space lazer, melt the polar ice caps with a missile, transfer all of the funds from the world's banks, and even one to kidnap the pope with an elaborate display of dancing circus monkeys.\n\nAll foiled, obviously. And this one was just as likely to succeed, which was to say not very likely, but it involved clones and space rockets, two of Billings' favorite things, so it was worth a go. At least according to R&D.\n\nAlthough if he didn't know better, Billings would say the time frame was off. He sighed, that probably meant Mr. Impossible had done his black magic once again.\n\nHe stalked off to the main control room, to see what the concern was.\n\n--x--\n\n\"I'm sorry, sir,\" the guard said, holding a bloodied rag to his thigh, \"he just came at me so fast. There was nothing I could--\"\n\n\"Shhh...\" he said shakily, halfway between fury and fear, \"just... just be quiet. Stop. Get out of here...\"\n\nThe control room was destroyed. Easily, handily, totally, completely, and whatever other phrases ending in \"ly\" that one could think of. It was far from fixable.\n\nAnd in the center, in a pool of their own blood, was his entire research team. Some had been shot, others knifed, and a few with no visible cause of death; not that this mattered when talking about Mr. Impossible.\n\n\"Please, forgive me. Sir, I just had to do it. If I'd have known--\"\n\n\"Shut up\" Billings snapped, \"just shut up!\" Bending down to the figure on the ground, he bit his tongue to keep under control.\n\nEven under all the blood, he could still see those pearly white teeth.\n\n\"Why?\" Billings asked the arbitrary soldier standing beside him, \"why did you kill him?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" he said uneasily, \"sir, it's my job. It's what I'm...\"\n\n\"Shut up,\" he exploded again, \"you were supposed to guard this room. You were supposed to keep him out. You were supposed to... to...\" He turned away and tried to grind the tears out of his eyes.\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\n\"Damn it!\" he screamed, lunging for the guard. The guard instinctively raised his rifle, but did not fire. Billings struck him right about the middle, throwing him to the pile of scientists, \"you idiot. You fool!\" He stopped trying to hide the tears, and looked down towards Mr. Impossible, \"you too. How could you let this happen? How? He's just an idiot with a gun. A thug,\" he pointed, \"nobody like that could kill you. You've said it a million times. 'You'll never get me, Admiral Evil'. You lied,\" he cried as he began to kick the body, \"you lied. Lied, lied, lied!\"\n\nThe guard returned to his feet, giving distance to his employer.\n\nBillings slipped on his last kick and fell to the ground beside the body of Mr. Impossible. \"Damn it,\" he said, \"damn it all to hell.\" He took a deep breath and looked over towards the guard, \"do you know what you've done?\"\n\nThe guard shook his head, clenching his grip on the rifle.\n\n\"You've... you've killed him. You've stolen him. You've taken the only thing I have left,\" he reached into Mr. Impossible's pack, tearing through the pockets, \"you've... you've...\" he said through rolling tears. Finally, he took a piece of paper from the bag, crumpled it up and threw it at the guard.\n\nThe guard looked down at the paper, watched it unfurl slightly in the still wet blood. It was an old picture, decades old at least. Through the blood he could make out an image of two young boys, arms around one another. The first had the whitest teeth, even through the darkening blood, and the other had the beginnings of what would become the signature of the Admiral: the supervillian nose.\n\nBillings trembled next to the body, \"you've stolen the only thing that matters to me. The only thing that... that keeps me going. You bastard,\" he cried, \"you're the monster here.\"\n", "I was the poor kid in class. My clothes were always too big for me, and they were the most ridiculous things you could get from the thrift shop. See, even at the ripe old age of 10, I was forced to buy my own clothes because every extra penny my father made went toward his...habits. The other students always looked at me funny, and I was never exactly a teacher's favorite.\n\nI hated my father. It's not really in my nature to regret, but if I regret anything, I regret not killing him myself. Dearest mother said she did it for all of us. Said he was killing her and me, and was dying anyway. I'll never forget that sardonic grin. She loved him...said that wanted him to die with a smile. When I heard her on the phone, saying that her son had killed her husband. What an idiot.\n\nPeople are so stupid, predictable. I learned that shortly after leaving her with her own special smile.. But he wasn't. Granted, he was absolutely batty. Perhaps that was why he was so good at catching me all the time...No, I wanted him to catch me. I loved chatting with him. Granted, he could have used a sense of humor, but in his way, I think he loved out little chats too. Unlike his other pals, I was corrupted by nothing. Not money, not fame, not women, not anything. My only personal agenda is me. He got that.\n\nI'd be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed when I discovered who hid behind the mask. Upstart, pretentious Money Bags. I realized that he'd never truly understood me. But I still loved our friendship, and it was too valuable for me to let this go. I knew how to help him. Now he is lying there, happier than I'd ever seen him. I just wanted him to die with a smile.", "It was funny to Warren, the death of detective Marshall. Hilarious, even. Detectives came and went on his case. They'd find a dead cop, get to sleuthing, get captured, die, repeat.\n\nDetective Marshall was not like that. Not even close. Detective Marshall was smart, wary. Detective Marshall was in his mind, only one step behind, in stark contrast to the bumblers who constantly found themselves on the receiving end of Warren's brilliance, his cunning.\n\nIt might have meant more to Warren if he had killed the detective himself. The murder would have been an accomplishment, something he could be proud of. It would have meant even more if he had been caught himself. In a way, he was pulling for the detective, hoping he would be the one to catch him.\n\nBut he couldn't seal the deal before getting run over by an overzealous motorist in Times Square. It was quite disappointing, in a way that Warren had never been quite familiar with. It almost stopped him from continuing his grisly work.\n\nAlmost.", "The MTs were carrying out Stukovs body, he had heard about it over the police band. 3 GSWs, defensive wounds, looked like a struggle. Blues will never find the guy, it was professional, made to look like a break in gone wrong.\n\n“Goodbye, my old enemy.” – The thought itself was saddening.. he remembered the first day he had met Stukov, this young Ukrainian man. He was not handsome, you could not say that about him, rather.. he looked respectable. Someone that you could trust. A good thing in their line of work.\n\nStanding outside Checkpoint Charlie, there he was, escorting Gerhard Weber.. one of their sources inside the Stasi. He’d be dead if they had not let it “slip” to the Stasi that they had caught two of theirs. He wasn’t happy about letting two of their prizes go, but Gerhard was valuable.\n\nHe looked at his coffee and went for a sip, it was cold. How long had he been outside Stukovs apartment? Everything looked different. This wasn’t his neighborhood. Where am I?\nHe checked the GPS, he was parked outside his house. Why hadn’t he gone inside? Why was he missing time?\n\nStukov stood about 15 paces from him, holding Gerhard by the arm. Gerhard’s face was blue and battered, he had obviously been beaten. Lucky, they could have executed him on the spot.\n“Where is my package, American?”\nHe looked Stukov in the eyes, scanning the man. He could not get a read on him, it was like he was carved out of rock.\n\n“Right here, russkie.” – He whistled towards the big M35 truck, out stepped two MPs, holding the Stasi men at their side.\n“I am Ukrainian.” Stukov said.\n“Red is red” – he retorted.\nStukov let go of Gerhard and motioned him forward. He gestured towards the MPs to do the same.\nWhen Gerhard reached him, he whispered “I have something.” In his thick german accent.\n“When we debrief you, Gerhard.” He said nonchalantly. “No, it must be now, it is about you.”\n“Can we at least wait until we get to the car?” – Gerhard seemed to relent, they walked over to the small WV beetle he was driving, he liked to blend in and these cars were becoming popular.\n“Alright, Gerhard. What about me?”\n\n“The Ukrainian, he watches you.” Gerhards eyes were wild with fear, something was not right.\n\nHe stood infront of his door.. when did he get out of the car? He was holding his keys and service pistol.\n\nI am home.\n\nHe opened the door and stepped inside the hallway, it’s so bright. “Jenny?” he called out. She should be home by now.\nHe took off his coat and hat, placing them neatly in their place. “Jenny?” no answer. He made his way towards the bedroom, the place was quiet.\n“Jenny, where are you?”\nThe bedroom door was ajar, he now understood why he had his service pistol out.\n\nHe opened the door carefully it was dark, he fumbled for the light switch. Suddenly the room was flooded with light. It’s so bright.\n“No no no.” she was lying on the bed, it was covered in blood. He could not think, the room was so bright, she was dead. Three gunshots, two in the heart, one in the head.\n\nHe threw up on the floor and slid the magazine out of his pistol and counted the rounds. 12.\n12 rounds. The magazine took 15.\n\nHe stumbled into the bathroom, the light is so bright. He looked at himself in the mirror.\nHis face was warped, he could see Stukov’s face. The light was blinding.\n“Stop! STOOOOOOP!” he screamed. The light intensified.\nHe could hear Stukov’s voice mingled with his own thoughts.\n\n“You know how to make it stop.” His thoughts and the voice were as one.\n\n“You know how to make it stop.” They insisted.\n\nYes, he knew how to make it stop. Reaching for his pistol, he looked at the reflection again. His face merging with Stukovs.\n\n“Goodbye, my old enemy.” The light was all he saw.\n\nHe saw the flash in the window. He started the car and drove away.\n\nStopping at a payphone two blocks away, he dialed the number scribbled on the piece of paper.\n\n“Hennesy Claims and Insurance, how may I help you?” the operator answered.\n\n“Yes, I would like to have Paul from accounting call me back. His sister is in the hospital.”\n“I will deliver the message for you, sir.” The phone clicked.\nThe message was delivered, assignment completed.\n\nHe thought of Alan Hammerschmidt as he walked towards the safe house. He had come to know every detail of this man’s life and now it was irrelevant. \n\nTwenty years of study, analysis, interrogation.\n\nThe thought saddened him, it was as if he had lost a friend… his best friend.\n\nNo, he thought, not a friend. An enemy.\n\nThe street lamps shone into the darkness.\n\nThe light was so bright.\n", "The clock ticked down from 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1, the door opened, but he never showed up. Where was he? our intrepid hero thought. We started this journey together making a choice, I chose and then he chose. His choice was the opposite of mine and designed to counteract everything I had. I was an outsider, he was the prodigal relative of the old scientist who sent us on our journey. After every step forward he seemed to be one step in front of me. When I finally conquered the Final four leaders and I awaited the door for the last challenge I expected him to be in front of me. However, when the door opened I was greeted with silence. \"What happened to you? I miss you, I need this. I need to show you once and for all that I am the very best, that you are not like me.\" My outburst was greeted by silence. I left everything on the floor but my initial companion and I turned around and started to head back, away from the glory of being the champion. The victory felt hollow, and I knew that I needed to find him to talk to him one more time and then utterly destroy him. \"Fart,\" I thought, \"I will find you and I will destroy you.\" ", "\"Another, please.\"\n\nOutside the bar, the city was practically up in flames. Riots, looting in the streets. The owner had boarded the place up. The man he was currently serving a drink had stayed anyway.\n\n\"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?\" The bartender asked the strange man, who grinned without looking up.\n\n\"I guess I just don't see the point in doing my job anymore.\"\n\n\"Because you don't feel safe?\" The bartender wondered.\n\n\"I suppose.\" The man took a deep breath, sighing it out. \"Whenever I worked, I had the thought in the back of my head that he'd be there, you know? He'd fix everything. So why even do my job now?\" \n\nThe bartender nodded. The television behind him was running the story 24/7, the fall of one of the city's greatest heroes. He thought it'd be best to leave his only customer to mourn. He reached for the power button in the middle of yet another interview. \"Well, mister Wayne was always incredibly--\" click\n\nThe bartender heard stifled laughter coming from his patron. \"What's so funny?\" he asked, noticing a pair of scars near his lips seemed to be much more pronounced when he smiled.\n\n\"Oh, nothing,\" he simply replied. \"I was just thinking about how much of a joke this all is.\"", "In the end beating superman was simple. It only required two principles. Even Superman couldn't be in two places at once. And superman would always choose another over his own life. \n\nI didn't really believe the second one was true. He wasn't even human how could he be altruistic to an alien race, he was heroic for his own gain, surely. Who doesn't enjoy the admiration of the public, even I make sure my public image is positive. Maybe he would sacrifice himself for the planet, but for Jimmy? Hell if he was a utilitarian he would choose to save himself, because he could later save more lives. I think I just wanted to prove Superman wasn't the perfectly moral guy that he thought he was. \n\nI invented a device that was powered by Superman himself. As long as Superman was alive it would gain energy. Combining it with some quantum coupling and teleportation, the device would gather energy no matter where Superman was and multiple devices could communicate instantly. \n\nI created a miniature version of the device and had my men sneak them onto Louise, and Jimmy. It wasn't very difficult, even Superman can't keep track of everyone under my pay roll and everyone who walks near his friends. The device would slowly kill them. If removed the other would trigger and kill them instantly. The only way to stop them both safely was to power them off. When I told Superman this I was expecting him to panic, to be unable to make a decision or to fly over to Louise and choose her. There was no hesitation; he took his hands placed them around his head. One twist and snap later he was dead. The device powered down and both Louise and Jimmy were safe. They weren't even aware they were in danger nor why Superman was found dead in his artic home.\n\nLast week my secretary Linda walked in to my office and asked me why I was refusing so many calls and sulking around extremely morose. \"Because Superman is dead\" \"So what I thought you didn't like that guy\" not liking him was such an inaccurate statement I simply yelled at her to get out. She didn't know I killed Superman. She wasn't even aware of all the plots I've tried against him over the years. No one was aware of all that I've done, maybe pieces but not its entirety. How could they without X-RAY vision and a personal interest in my behavior. In the end I wasn't even the one who killed him, he killed himself. I only now realize that wasn't the point. I never wanted to kill Superman. I just wanted to be better than him so that the universe would know the might of mankind. Now I'll never know if I am. Unless... \n\nI went to one of my many hidden bunkers. In it was one of Superman's old uniforms. It was severely damaged, a souvenir to remind myself of one of the times I was so close. I took it out of its casing and took off my jacket. I took off my shirt, my pants, even my underwear. As I slipped my leg into the uniform and I couldn't help but smile. The outfit was a bit loose on me and the holes were quite awkward but the powerful boots, the textured gloves, the cape heavier than a peacock's tale, I started to understand why he wore such a ridiculous outfit. I walked over to the nearest mirror and looked at myself. I wasn't smiling anymore, instead I gazed with determined eye contact.\n\n\"Superman isn't dead.\"\n\n\n\n", "Robert Nunzio was one of those people who felt profoundly alone. Sure he had ‘friends’ but they were busy or they would forget to invite him out. Often, inviting people over felt like he was asking for a favor. Sometimes he feared that his friends knew that he was just looking for a way out of his solitude. Robert didn’t indulge himself self-pity.\n\nSometimes he felt like he was wearing rubber mask that wasn’t his. Never able to reveal his true self to the world. As if he wasn’t an actual human being, just a shell. It was ironic then, that he freed himself by wearing a real mask. Only when he was the Crimson Wasp did he feel truly alive.\n\nIt had started as a call for help. So pent up was Rob that he decided to go out and force people to look at him. Maybe then he could get out of his apartment for once and actually connect with people. (Even if they would never know his real name.) Thus started the events that led to the creation of his most important bond to the world.\n\nIt was Christmas Eve when Crimson Wasp made his first appearance. He planted a bomb in the subway station. It wasn’t real of course, he didn’t mean to hurt anyone. He just wanted some excitement. It was a desperate experiment. Anything would be better than the numb life he was forced to awake to each morning. Everyone ran, they were afraid of him – his oddness, his strangeness. None of them understood. Rob couldn’t blame them. After all, who was the one wearing a bright red unitard and a plastic mask from Party City in a subway station under the city? Anyone would run. He would have ran from himself. Everyone ran but Sonic Hawk. His metal boots clicking over the old graying pavement of the station. \n\n“You’re new.”\n\n“Stay back! Or I’ll blow this city sky high!” \n\n“Can’t let you do that, what’s your name?”\n\n“Crimson Wa--!” \n\nSparks flew in his vision as a fist sailed straight into his solar plexus. From then on, life was different. Before he could be taken to jail, he was saved by the Academy of Villains, where he found truer companionship solely based on the hatred of Sonic Hawk. He had something in common for once, and could truly, candidly speak on the topic. \n\nSonic Hawk wasn’t like his friends. Rob could show up at the doors of the national Treasury screaming bloody murder at 3:30 A.M. in the morning and his nemesis would come as if it were a matter of natural order. He was a constant, always there – always connected, waiting even. One day Rob was eating pizza alone on a late Sunday afternoon when a wave of nausea hit him. His acquaintances over at the Academy of Villains were overseas on some business trip and he hadn’t had an actual conversation in weeks. He felt hurt and heavy – he could barely don his red velvet cape. He stumbled walking out the door, tears stinging his vision. Wearing his costume, he walked to where he knew Sonic Hawk’s parents were buried, in a local cemetery. There the Sonic Hawk immediately found him and punched him in the gut. But not before they held their usual dramatic monologues about the injustices which found them and which they sought to correct by conflicting means. Rob struggled at first choking out the first few words, but seeing his nemesis gave him confidence and a little comfort. That night, he was able to sleep in a jail cell soundly, still wearing his costume, refusing to shed his heartfelt identity. \n\nThe funeral was corny, with insignias pasted around, depicting a hawk with white feathers. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the house, least of all Rob’s. The next day he robbed the national Treasury at 3:30 am and waited outside of the building. The day after that he returned to the Subway station where he first met Sonic Hawk and sat on a bench while civilians gave him odd stares before anxiously skirting around him. The day after that, he burned the mask and cape and he visited Sonic Hawk’s grave, where he was buried next to his parents. Rob wept until he could not. \n" ]	9
[WP] A tiny civilization thrives on a small comet roaming the solar system. A giant alien creature named Philae lands out of nowhere.	[WP] A tiny civilization thrives on a small comet roaming the solar system. A giant alien creature named Philae lands out of nowhere.	[ "\"It's been three months since that... thing has been up in the sky,\" I said as I looked towards it. \n\n\"What do you think it is?\" Thratxi said to me, clearly unnerved by it.\n\n\"I dunno. It hasn't bothered us yet, why worry about it? Go back to sleep,\" I said, and both Thratxi and I dozed off.\n\n---\n\n\"Qartleng! Qartleng! Wake up! It's bothering us!\" Thratxi shouted, shaking me violently. \n\n\"Oh, hush! I'll be up in a minute! I don't see how it could be bothering us.\" I replied, annoyed by Thratxi's antics.\n\nWe walked outside of our dugout and looked up. There were now two things in the sky, and it looked like one was descending... right onto the spot where we were. We immediately scurried to the outside of the crater. \n\nThe cube slowly descended into view. It landed crooked at first, with only one leg down, but then something shot out and held it down. I flinched at the loud noise.\n\n\"Let's go see what it is!\" I said to Thratxi excitedly.\n\n\"Oh, I don't know, Qartleng... It doesn't look safe... at all.\"\n\n\"Who cares? Nobody ever became famous for being safe!\" I said, and leapt out to the side of the metal box.\n\n\"Woah...\" I said with awe. It was simply... massive. No other way to describe it. \n\n'PHILAE' was written on its side. \n\n\"Hey, Thratxi! Whoever sent this developed writing,\" I shouted.\n\n\"Well, duh! If they can build this, find us, and send it here, they most certainly would need a form of writing.\" He replied.\n\nI wonder who se\n\n---\n\n\"Geoffry! Stop writing your stupid NASA fan fiction and get back to work!\" Lamarck Smith snapped at the lazy employee.\n\n\"Yes, boss...\" Geoffry said reluctantly. He swithpched windows, and continued typing on his computer.\n\nAll of the sudden, a message appeared.\n\n'WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT IS PHILAE' was displayed on the screen.\n\nGeoffry, thoroughly horrified, leapt out of his chair and ran out of the room, screaming.", "The object was formidable and shiny, with numerous reflective surfaces surrounding it. It puzzled the group of juveniles that surrounded it.\n\n@## spoke up first after sitting in awe for so long.\n\n\"This is why I don't listen when the adults tell us not to go to the outskirts of the city. The coolest stuff is always out here.\"\n\n\"Don't act like there's always cool stuff out here, @##,\" responded !#!. You've never seen anything like this before.\n\n\"Sure I have.\"\n\n\"Liar.\"\n\n\"Just shut up,\" yelled one of the other juveniles.\n\nThey stopped arguing and looked back at the object. Again, they sat in awe for several minutes.\n\n\"Hey, what are you all doing out here?\"\n\nThe juveniles looked back to see an adult slithering over to them. His grains were rolling over one another fast enough that they knew he was furious. !#! tried to preempt his anger.\n\n\"Hey, man, let's focus on the real important thing here - look at that!\"\n\nThe adult saw the shiny object resting on their comets surface and slithered over to investigate it. The object was much larger than all of them. He built himself up as high as he could in order to investigate it with more detail, before finally letting himself fall back to the ground. His amazement curbed his former fury.\n\n\"Well, little ones, I can tell you that it isn't alive at least.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"It doesn't have the basic characteristics of life - it isn't sedimentary in nature nor does it appear to be absorbing ammonia. It isn't alive.\"\n\n\"So it's a device of some sort?\"\n\n\"Yes, it would appear so. Its technology is very different from ours, but it seems to be just that - technology.\"\n\n\"Technology? But where does all the tunneling go to make it work? And where is the (&&)?\"\n\n\"That's what I'm saying - it doesn't appear to have one at all.\"\n\n\"But we learned in science that it's impossible for anything to be powered without some form of (&&).\"\n\n\"Look, you're a bunch of kids and, even though I'm an adult, I work as a lander - so basically - well, basically none of us have any clue about this sort of thing. Let's go back to the ice sector of the city and let them know about this. I'll even give you all credit for finding it - even though you weren't supposed to be out here in the first place.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" the juveniles said one after another.\n\n_____________\n\nMeanwhile, the Philae sent back its report to Earth.\n\n\"No forms exhibiting signs of life. Unusual sediment deposition patterns.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] "are you the sandman?"	[ "A little girl, asleep in her bed was the only person in the room. Her room was painted pink with yellow horizontal stripes, only two of the them, running around the whole room at about halfway up the wall. She had a standup light that was in the shape of a sunflower standing in the corner of the room closest to the door. The light switch had a piece of blue painter's tape covering it so nobody could turn it on. She had a small, brown desk with her schoolwork scattered all across it, a small desk lamp that was painted like a sunflower as well, only this paint was chipping and flaking. Her breathing was quiet and rhythmic with a slight whistle sounding at every exhale.\n\nI stood there in the doorway, moving very slowly with my light brown ski mask on and my flashlight by my waist. I had turned it off because I didn't want her to wake up. I had my eye on her box of jewelry that was placed catercorner from the desk lamp. It was an old, antique looking box. I assumed it was her mother's old jewelry or maybe even her grandmother's, but either way, it had to be worth something. I could see just barely in her room because of her nightlight that was on the wall closest to her feet as to illuminate some of the room, but also keep enough light out of her face so she could get some sleep.\n\nI walked over to the desk and picked up the jewelry box, but there was something slippery either on the box or on my gloves, but as I turned to walk away and put it in my pillowcase that I had been using to keep all the stolen valuables, the box flew out of my hands, causing it crash on the floor, opening the lid and sending a collection of pearls, jewels, golden chains, and different kind of stones to scatter across the adolescent's bedroom. I just stood there, frozen, holding on the to pillowcase with my one hand and my other hand stuck in the position as if I were holding a phantom jewelry box.\n\nThe little girl sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked right at me. My eyes were wide open, and I had gotten ready to dart out of her room and head for the car parked outside of her house, but she looked at me and said, \"Are you the Sandman?\"\n\nMister Sandman, bring me a dream. Make him the cutest that I'd ever seen.\n\nI looked at her and moved in closely, getting down on one knee, and said very quietly, \"Yes, my sweet, what are doing up?\"\n\n\"You woke me up.\"\n\n\"I know that, honey, that happens sometimes. You're going to have to - \"\n\n\"What happened to my mommy's jewelry?\"\n\n\"I, uh,\" had to improvise for one, \"was going to give you a dream where you were a princess. A beautiful princess, in charge of a wonderful kingdom full of candy, sunflowers, roses, and animals! And,\" I said in a hush, \"you have to have beautiful jewels if you're a beautiful princess.\"\n\nI was smiling, staying in the character even though she couldn't see my face.\n\n\"Oh that sounds wonderful!\"\n\n\"I know, darling, but you have to fall asleep or else you can't be the princess!\" I silently yelled in a hush.\n\nShe smiled, gave me a hug, and then slammed her head down on her pillow, snoring to give the impression that she was asleep. It was adorable.\n\nI gathered the jewels very quietly and shoved them into the pillowcase. From down the hall, I heard a door open. I quickly left the room and ran down the staircase, which thankfully was carpeted and muted my footsteps. I had to walk slowly in the living room because there was hardwood floors. I could hear the little girl's mother saying, \"Honey, who were you talking to in here?\"\n\nI very slowly and quietly opened the front door, closed it once I passed through the jambs and then silently closed it. I sprinted to the car, jumped in the backseat, and yelled at the driver to get going. The car peeled out, and I took off my mask and exhaled, hoping that my heart rate would start working its way back down.", "“Mommy what’s wrong?” \n\nHow do you tell your baby that she’s sick? You don’t. She wouldn’t understand, she’s only three years old. She’s been on this earth only three short years. The idea of losing her is unimaginable. I can’t think like that now, she will be ok. She will. My baby Stella is so full of life, so spunky, and cute. She is strong, she will survive.\n \n“Mommy’s not feeling so well now, sweetheart. Let’s go watch TV and leave mommy alone for a little.” My husband Drew always comes to my rescue. He’s always been the strong one. I didn’t want to be alone, but I couldn’t let my baby see me like this. I have to be strong.\n \nThey barely close the bedroom door behind them before I stumble to the bathroom. I’ve never been one to throw up in times of stress, but my whole world has been turned upside down. I stand up, flush the toilet, and wash myself up. I hardly recognize the woman in the mirror. “You have to be strong, you have to be strong.” This might be the last day I am spending with my daughter, I need to be with her right now.\n \nI join my husband and my daughter in the living room, dancing along with the TV. She will be ok. If anyone would survive this surgery, it will be her.\n \nOnce the song was over, we sat on the couch giggling. I could live in this moment forever. Time moved fast though, and before we knew it, it was dark. As we sat there watching Stella’s favorite movie for the hundredth time, I look over to my husband. Tears running slowly down his cheek, he looks to me. He didn’t have to speak, I know what he’s thinking.\n \nThe movie ended. It was time for bed. Drew picks her up and we walk to her bedroom to tuck her in. “Stella, tomorrow we’re going back to the doctor’s office, you remember Dr. Mills?” I knew she remembered. “We’re going to go visit him tomorrow, Daddy and I will be with you.”\n \nShe nodded, “Bedtime story!” She grabbed one of her favorites, the story of the Sandman.\n \nI listen to my husband slowly read the story. “By the time the sand touches your face, you’re on your way to dreaming.” She will be ok. She will survive. I know it.\n \nThe next morning, I pick out Stella’s favorite princess dress and grab her favorite teddy. Once we arrive everything is a blur. We meet all the doctors, and we’re given one last time alone with her so she can change into her little hospital gown. This is not happening. This is not happening. She’s so young, too young. If anyone would survive this, it will be her. Right?\n \n“Stella, baby, you’re going to take a nap now. Mommy and Daddy will be right here, and we will stay here until you wake up. Promise. We love you sweetie with all our heart.” Just then the doctors and nurses walk into the room. They move quickly, preparing for the operation they have ahead.\n \nThe anesthesiologist greets her “Hello Princess Stella” He gently lays her down on the hospital bed. Takes a syringe and injects it into the IV.\n \nShe looks to her side and smiles. “Are you the Sandman?”" ]	2
glhf	[WP] You hold the secret to the universe and everyone will trust whatever you say, but you are not allowed to tell them through any form of communication	[ "It had started with a single person outside of her yard, as still as a statue, and when Tara had come out and asked what the he was doing standing in her yard, he had simply shrugged, thick beads of sweat trickling down his face.\n\n\"I don't know,\" he replied. \"Waiting.\"\n\n\"For what?\" Tara asked back.\n\nHe shrugged again. \"I don't know.\"\n\nAnd then, like a drop of water turning into a sea, the faces multiplied. Two, ten, a hundred, a thousand eyes all congregating around her small house, each one standing as still as the last. Each hour she would come out, bewildered, her head spinning from all the eyes on her, and she would ask again in a quivering voice what they were all doing in sweet old Tara's yard. \n\n\"I don't know,\" they would all sing in unison, and then they would be silent. \n\nIt was night now, the last rays of the sun sinking further below the horizon, and Tara peered out her window, wondering how many more faces had shown up in the past hour. \n\nShe knew what they wanted, had known since the third hour of the first man's arrival. But why? Why now did the world suddenly know that she knew what everybody had always wondered, what the ultimate question of science was that people suspected would forever go unanswered? \n\nTara let out a deep sigh, feeling her bones growing tired with the passing of the sun. In her old days she could've been up for another five hours, talking to boys or listening to music, but that was no longer possible. Her body and her mind would never allow that. Not anymore. \n\nShe hobbled to her chair and sat down on the sofa, feeling the stitches and staples against her chest. Tara could remember that day, so vividly, like a dream from childhood that never went away. \n\nThe pain had been tremendous, like a roaring thunderbolt, and she had collapsed, the world turning sideways, and the world grew darker around her and from far, far away she could hear screaming, but it was growing fainter, and she knew that she was getting farther and farther away from everything around her. \n\nAnd just as the life drained out of her, she saw. \n\nTara saw the stars and the planets, saw herself rushing past the solar system and the milkyway, flying past comets and galaxies and blackholes and supernovas, their lights brighter than any sun, though she was not blinded. Everything became a blur, and she knew that even light couldn't keep up with her. \n\nIn those few seconds, she had been infinite. Tara had felt the cosmos around her, had seen the universe breathe and live. In those moments, she found the truth, and it was so simple. \n\nShe had awoken in an ambulance then, the stars and galaxies gone around her, and she had wept, for it had been so beautiful. \n\nAnd now all these people somehow knew that she held the answer, and they wanted it. Yet, everytime she had tried to tell someone what she had seen, what she knew, her tongue became tied in her mouth, and no words came out. Tara had realized that, perhaps, the laws of nature and the universe wouldn't allow her to share its secrets, because the human race wasn't ready.\n\nSo why were they here now? Surely all these people had some sort of telepathic message gone to them. So was it time? Did they deserve to know? \n\nTara sighed one last time, forced herself to get up from her rocking chair, and hobbled to the front door, opening it slowly, to stare into a millions of eyes, all unblinking, all waiting for her. \n\nShe opened her mouth, readying herself to tell the world what humanity had always wanted to know, what they had all been waiting for, but nothing came out. That same force held her words back down, and she could do nothing but stand there, motionless. She couldn't wave her hands, couldn't even write it down for them to read. Whatever forces were at work, continued to be at work.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" Tara said to the crowd, feeling her tears roll down her face. \"I can't tell you what you want to know. I can't...\" \n\nShe knew it was beautiful, knew that if she told them the world would break down and weep. \n\n\"But you can. You have to!\" someone shouted.\n\nTara shook her head, her mouth quivering. She couldn't tell them that the universe was alive, couldn't tell them that it breathed and laughed and saw as they saw, that the stars were all children of the universe and the galaxies were its uncles and aunts, that the black holes were the cousins and the comets and dust clouds friends and grandparents. Tara wept because she couldn't tell them that humans were part of the universe, that they were as big and significant as any star or galaxy out there, that the universe saw them and wept and laughed along with them. \n\nHumanity was the universe's children's children, and each one of them was as bright as any point in the night sky.\n\nShe watched, her breath misting in the night air, as each face around her turned to despair. \n\nTara tried, one last time, to break the force that supressed her. She pushed and pushed against what she couldn't see, all the energy in her mind and body forcing her arm upwards, slowly, slowly into the night sky. And she laughed, because her arm was moving upwards, towards the stars, and her fingers curled until only one of them pointed upwards. \n\nBy the time her arm was in the air, she felt as though she might collapse. Tara wavered, but did not fall, and she saw all the heads move toward where she pointed, upwards into the cosmos and vast darkness. \n\nShe saw frowns from many, but smiles from a few in the ground, and she knew they understood. \n\n\"We are stars,\" she heard someone whisper. \n\nAs if in slow motion, she slowly saw each person's face break into a smile, and she heard laughter that echoed across the world, and everyone looked up into the night sky at that point in time. \n\nThey were all in the universe, and the universe was in all of them. " ]	1
Take any stance you like on this from the bat shit crazy women to the devil himself.	[WP] Monster energy drinks are the work of Satan.	[ "\"How did she discover our plan!?\" Satan bellowed to his second-in-command.\n\n\"She was able to decipher the language of the demons...We still don't understand how she discovered it. She must be of divine kind.\" Satan raged with fiery contempt. He had planned this many earth years ago. To create a drink, made from the blood of demon kind, to indoctrinate the children of the earth. Their thirst would be unquenchable. He would then use this collective power to open the Gates of Hell and reign terror upon the earth and all its people. He would then storm the gates of heaven and take his revenge on his father. All this was now ruined.\n\n\"Sir, there is something you should know...\" his second-in-command trembling. \"Even though she discovered our secret, the other Earth people have deemed her insane.\" A menacing, twisted grin grew on the Dark Lords face.\n\n\"Very good Gabriel...\" he laughed. Let us use this to our advantage. \"Get Rodney Sacks on the phone. We have much to discuss.\" \n\n\n\n \n\n", "\"What do you mean 'evil'?\" I said as I crushed the third Monster can under my heel. \n\n\"Like...EVIL evil. LITERALLY Satan. Bad mojo.\" My girlfriend sat next to me on the couch, her wide, glossy eyes staring earnestly into my own\n\n\"Uh huh.\" I popped the cap on a fourth drink. \"Sure.\"\n\nHer hand suddenly grasped my wrist as I lifted the can for a drink. \n\n\"SERIOUSLY! Stop drinking those. I heard that there was a big bust at the main Monster factory last week. They had a swat team and everything! And when they broke in they found-\"\n\n\"Listen.\" I cut her off. \"I have been drinking like twenty of these for a month and a half. I am SO close to the Guinness World Record that I can literally TASTE it. You can't stop me now!\" \n\nI pulled my arm out of her grasp and put the can to my lips. She cringed. \n\n\"See? It's fine. Nothing wrong with it. Just a drink!\" \n\nMy stomach grumbled noisily, eliciting a worried look from my girlfriend. \n\n\"Its just gas!\" I said. \"It's carbonated! Of course I am going to have a bit-\"\n\nA second, louder rumble from my gut cut me off. \n\n\"Ok...maybe I have had a bit too many today. I am starting to feel nauseous...\" I clutched my offending organ. \"...Actually, I am going to run to the bathroom real quick. Be right back!\"\n\nI sprinted to the closest toilet and doubled over as a new wave of nausea struck me. I quickly knelt before the porcelain gods and heaved. \n\n\"I'm...I'm ok! Just a bit o- huuuuuuuggggggggg!!\" I lost my train of though along with my lunch. \n\n\"Are you ok? Whats wrong?\" My girlfriend poked her head around the corner, her face a portrait of concern. \n\n\"What the HELL is that?!\" she screamed. Out of the vomit a tiny, four fingered hand grasped the edge of the bowl. \n\n\"Thank you for releasing me!\" The thing spoke in a tiny, rasping voice. \"MUCH sooner than we expected! Our new line has only been out two months!\" It cackled malevolently. \n\n\"Now the world will know our-heywhatareyoudoingstopthat!\" \n\nI reached up and flushed the toilet. \n\n\"Nooooooooooo!\" the thing spun like a dervish for a few seconds and vanished down the drain. \n\nI looked up to my girlfriend. \n\n\"Never. Again.\" ", "One of these days, he was going to have to make his own energy drink.\n\nLucifer, Prince of Darkness, Lord of Hell, the Blackmal, the Scourge of the Heavens and a few other titles he'd lost somewhere around the 1500s, lounged morosely on his obsidian throne. Shooting a glare that would have incinerated a small animal at the Red Bull can in his hand, he crushed it effortlessly, and pitched it into the Lake of Fire with a furious growl. He heard a yelp, amid the usual shrieks of insufferable torment, as it bopped a sinner on the head.\n\nThe Fallen Angel sighed, and looked up to the Heaven he'd lost so long ago. \n\nThat was his twentieth one. He still hadn't got his wings back.", "\"What do you mean 'it didn't work'?!\" Satan bellowed at the lesser demon who cowered in front of his molten throne. The fire that danced around his body blazed up along with his anger. His rage-filled grip tightened around the bodies of the two unfortunate souls serving as his current arm rests, crushing them.\n\nThe demon shook in terror but held his ground. \"Th-they d-d-didn't work, my lord. Th-the h-humans must b-be im-m-mune.\"\n\nSatan narrowed his eyes and his anger quickly turned from volcanic to glacial. \"Immune.\" Though he whispered the word, his tone promised more violence than his outburst had before. \"Are you certain?\"\n\nThe minor demon's wings quivered as he said, \"N-no my lord. But how else--\" he cut off abruptly as his flesh was torn from his bones in a whirlwind of gore. Sulfiric demon blood sprayed in all directions as the macabre dervish of flesh and blood lazily drifted off to the magma pits for disposal.\n\nSatan lowered his hand. He stood up and walked slowly to the pile of bones that was once the demon messenger. Idly, he picked up a femur and twirled it like a toothpick between two massive fingers as he thought about what to do next. He would have to have a word with the so-called \"CEO\" that was in charge of the Monster project. As he left his throne room, he eyed the broken bodies of the damned souls that he had crushed. He bellowed to the attendant demons that swarmed around the throne room, \"Clean up the mess!\"\n\n----\n\nSteven Brown, CEO of Monster Corp and avid Satanist, twirled aimlessly in his exeutive chair and expensive suit. It's not something he did when other people could see, but here in his high-rise office with behind massive closed oak doors, he spent far too much time just spinning. The custom bearings in the chair were well-greased and maintained and spun silently and with almost no resistance. He had paid quite a bit extra for them.\n\nWith a thousand howls of damned souls, a glowing red pentagram scorched itself into the expensive carpet. Steven managed to stop his spin just in time as the fabric of reality bent and twisted into a misshapen gateway into the bowels of hell itself. Steven felt uncomfortable looking at the edges of the portal, which moved and pulsated in a way that made his eyes hurt. He turned his chair around and tried to act as if he had intended to do so the whole time.\n\nBehind him, a voice quietly cleared it's throat. Steven tried to do a dramatic chair-turn, but the voice was clearly not in the mood for theatrics. A wiry-looking hand grabbed the expensive leather and spun the chair the rest of the way, revealing to Steven his boss.\n\nSteven was unsure why Satan always took such an unimposing form on Earth. During his initiation, he had a chance to see Satan's real form. It towered over even the biggest demons, and was covered in spikes and horns and endless flames that danced around. However, here in this office he stood as a five-foot-four old man with wispy grey hair and liver spots.\n\nSteven shook his head. \"Yes, oh great lord and master, bringer of terror and pain, guardian of the nine hells, jailer--\"\n\n\"Spare me.\" Satan's voice sounded every bit like the old man he appeared to be, and yet there was something else about it, something that Steven couldn't hear, that nevertheless had him almost pissing himself in terror.\n\n\"Err... right. What can I do for you, Great Lord of the Night?\".\n\nSatan made a show of walking over to the great big plate-glass windows and staring out at the city below. \"This city. It is wonderful, is it not? A great cesspit of depravity and despair.\"\n\n\"Yyyyes... and a fine job you've done there, oh Keeper of the Damned.\"\n\nSatan scratched his chin. \"Only... I can't help but notice a distinct lack of monsters rampaging about and __bringing destruction to all who stand in their way__!\" He whirled around and spat the last words at the cowering CEO, who chose this particular time to lose control of his bladder.\n\n\"Erm...\" he squeaked.\n\n\"Tell me, mortal, why I shouldn't feed your burning corpse to my hell hounds right at this moment?\" He somehow managed to stare down at Steven, despite standing a good six inches shorter than him. \"I was promised an army of minotaurs. That is what we planned, yes? You were to put the taurite into your drinks and turn these worthless maggots into monsters. It was a simple job that somehow you managed to screw up!\"\n\nSteven blinked. \"Taurite?\"\n\nSatan roared. \"Yes! Taurite! The mythical concoction my alchemists had cooked up to turn humans into minotaurs!\"\n\n\"What? Your blundering minion told me to put taurine* into these drinks! I wondered about that, honestly. It's just an organic acid, nothing harmful or supernatural. Heck, it's not even a vital nutrient unless you're a cat--\"\n\n\"__ENOUGH!__ I will rend the flesh from your bones, I will feast upon your entrails, I will smash your body into bits so small that the demons will need a microscope to put you back together in __Hell__!\" A minor earthquake shook the entire tower as Satan unleashed his fury.\n\n\"Wait wait wait!\" The desperate CEO raised his hands to defend himself. \"It's not all bad, I swear!\"\n\nAt that, Satan's anger once again turned cold. \"And why is that?\"\n\nThe CEO pulled out his wallet and dug out the multitude of hundred-dollar-bills that he had intended to spend at a strip club after work was over. \"Look, we've been making insane amounts of money. The people love this piss-water we sell.\"\n\nFor a moment, Satan just stared at the money on the desk. Slowly and with a tone of voice that said \"I'll kill you the moment I figure out what the hell you just said\", he spoke. \"Green pieces of parchment.\"\n\nSteven stammered as quickly as he could, knowing that he only had one chance. \"No no no no. Not paper. Not just paper. It's money. You know, money? Like gold, jewels, wealth, all that? Only we just made it small and papery because carrying gold is heavy, you know?\" He stopped and cleared his throat before continuing. \"What I mean to say is, we can buy a whole lot of stuff with this.\"\n\nSatan narrowed his eyes. \"What sort of 'stuff' are you speaking of?\"\n\nThe CEO shrugged. \"Oh, you know, tanks, jets, bombs. Fun stuff.\" At Satan's cold stare, he continued. \"You know, weapons. To destroy stuff? Bring about the end of days? That kind of thing?\"\n\nSatan continued to stare.\n\nSteven threw his hands into the air. \"You know what? Have it your way. Let's put the stupid bull piss or whatever into the drinks. We've got a hundred million rabid followers who will drink literally anything we put in these cans. I'm sure they'll make a great cow-man army or whatever the Hell it is you want, okay? It'll be like a thousand times bigger than the one you would have gotten if your stupid messenger got it right the first time.\"\n\nSatan gave a wicked smile. \"Good.\" With a puff of acrid smoke, both he and the portal were gone, leaving a pentagram-shaped scorch on the floor.\n\nSteven groaned at the damage to his carpet and put his hand on his head. He spun in his chair and muttered to himself. \"I still think the tanks and jets would have been a better idea...\"", "\"Sir? What are you, uh, gonna do with all those Monster Energy cans?\"\n\"You question Il Diablo?\"\n\"Uhhh....\"\nThe employee shifted from side to side, looking from the horned red man to the manager.\n\"Okay, 6.66 per can, there's 666 cans.... uh, are you religious sir?\"\n\nThe employee and the manager suddenly bursted into flames, burning down the Prancy Nancy's building, along with the other energy drinks.\n\nAs God Almighty was prayed to by crazy southern women, he made it rain Rockstar, the True Drink of the Lord Almighty. The women disagreed with God, and transferred into Satanism.", "Monsters are the work of satan? Ha I laughed as I crushed down my 3rd can of the day, I always drink 6 cans a day 6 days of the week, I don't drink monster on Sunday. I keep this schedule almost religiously. Hell I can chug a monster in 6.66 seconds, that's my record. I'm praised around school for being able to chug something that fast, and I wasn't going to let me friend bring me down with such silly story's of lucifer." ]	6
	[WP] as the universe approaches heat death, a decision is made to kick start a second big bang.	[ "Mack squinted at the display. In front of him, it showed an incomprehensible circular graph of various colors, numbers, and inflection points.\n\n\"That's it?\" he asked incredulously.\n\nThe researcher standing behind him beamed proudly, unaware that Mack was unimpressed, \"That's it.\"\n\n\"But how does it work?\"\n\nThe researcher grinned, \"Well it's a bit complicated, sir. The basic premise is that there are substrates outside our universe, shaped kinda like long twisting ribbons. These ribbons normally run parallel to each other. But if they touch, they merge together along with a large release of energy.\"\n\nMack nodded, \"A Big Bang?\"\n\n\"Precisely! This facility here will attempt to 'pinch' two substrates together using a tri-lateral quantum entanglement field...\"\n\nMack waved his hand, \"Ok, I don't want an in-depth explanation. Just tell me, is this thing going to work?\"\n\nThe researcher winced at the question, \"Well...we think it will.\"\n\n\"You think?\" Mack asked skeptically.\n\n\"Sir, nobody's ever tried to create a Big Bang before. This is all just theory. We won't know for sure until we try it.\"\n\nMack nodded, \"Alright then. Let's say this thing doesn't work. What's plan B?\"\n\nThe researcher looked back at him, \"Sir...if this doesn't work, I don't think we're going to need a plan B.\"", "The man in the White coat stared at the lever. The most important lever in all of history. \"Stanley, do you know of the grandfather paradox?\"\n\nThe second man turned to face him, his hand was shaking with anxiety. He stammered his answer, \"The paradox in which you kill your grandfather, and in order to continue existing, you have to sleep with your grandmother?\"\n\nThe first man licked his lips nervously. \n\n\"Uh, yes, that one. Where you create yourself, to create yourself et cetera et cetera.\"\n\nStanley eyes him with suspicion, \"What of it, Morgan?\"\n\n\"Do you think, maybe, this isn't the first universe?\" Morgan's eyes never left the lever. The reset button. The only way to start the universe again.\n\n\"That would be incredible.\" Stanley spoke slowly. He picked up a plastic cup, and watched as the water fountain bubbled, filling his cup.\n\n\"Hmmph. But is it likely?\" Morgan's voice was just a whisper now.\n\n\"I don't, know, we don't have the time to work it out. Do you think so?\" Stanley looked at the clock, it would soon, indeed, be time. There was only a small window for this to work.\n\n\"Yes I do. And I'm going to test it.\" Morgan's eyes moved for the first time.\n\n\"How?\" Stanley was growing concerned.\n\n\"Remember the grandfather paradox?\" Morgan's hands tightened behind his back.\n\n\"Yes, I know. What are you trying to say?\" Stanley faced him now, trying to workout what he was playing at.\n\nMorgan's hands trembled under the weight of the gun. \"Well, what happens if you never sleep with your grandmother?\" " ]	2
	[WP] Millennia ago one of your cavemen ancestors submitted a patent request for fire. It has finally been processed successfully and you are the heir to all rights of fire.	[ "I'lll give it a shot.\n\n\n\nMr. Joel Johnson is a relatively simple man, He never cared much for the pieces of paper his fellow man seemed so obsessive about. He lived as modestly as his job as a firefighter permitted. He was happy this way, his mother always told him that money cannot buy happiness. She never cared for money either and she certainly instilled those ideals into her children.\n\nJoel ran through his average saturday routine, He was planing on going to see a movie because of the poor weather, he's been saving up for a ticket to the new one with Will Smith, he like him. Joel put on his jacket to leave when he decide he should check the mail first. Four letters, The first was a overdue notice from his cable provider, The second was a letter from his father, he put it aside, The third was a letter from the United States Patent and Trademark Office. Joel found this odd he is certainly not an inventor but the it was addressed to him, so he opened it, it read:\n\n The Commissioner of Patents and Trademarks\n Has received an application for the patent of -Fire-\n The requirement of law have been complied with\n and it has been determined that a patent on the invention\n shall be granted under the law.\n Patent number, -1-\n\nIt was signed at the bottom, Joel assumed it was a joke of some sort and continued his day as planned.\n\nUpon returning home he made diner and sat on his couch to watch a television program. His cable had been turned off.\n\n\"Dammit\" He said to himself. Joel was aggravated, the movie had been disappointing and now his cable had been turned off. He abandoned his dinner and wandered over to his counter to read the note from his father. Covering the note was that strange letter from the patent office he received earlier that day. Considering he had nothing else to do he decided to phone the patent office and see what it was about.\n\nHe spoke to a nice women, Kathy, he liked that name she shared it with his mother. 2 hours and 46 minuets later they had established the note was a not fraudulent and they strongly suggested he seek a lawyer.\n\n\n\n\nIts not done but I will continue later. Please tell me if you like it.\n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "I'm on my cell phone so spelling and formatting probably aren't going to be as pleasant as last time, also it will be written in a slightly different style.\n\n\n\nAfter hanging up the phone Joel inspected the letter, the full magnitude of what he held in his hands was sinking in, he held a patent to humanity's greatest discovery, combustion. \n\n\n\nHe finished his coffee which he had spiked with whisky halfway through the conversation, felling buzzed he headed to bed and decided to call a lawyer at a more decent hour. Asleep, he dreamed of his days in the Korea, although he wasn't on the front line he saw his fair share of action. He never talked about these 3 years as he wanted them to fade away, but he was still haunted by what he had seen at least twice a week in his dreams. The most common of the dreams involved his base being bombed, The smell of sulphur, charred flesh and most of all death lingered in the air, his vision was blurry but he could still make out the stacks of black smoke, and hear the screams. He soon woke up with a cold sweat.\n\n\n\n\n\nAfter finishing his breakfast Joel dug out his box of business cards. He dug around in the countless cards, most of them for businesses that no longer existed, until he found one for \"The Law Offices Of Louis Richardson\" Louie was a \"friend\" of Joel in the lowest sense of the word, but he was good with money nonetheless. A young women answered the phone, it was always young beautiful women who worked in places like these, he was certain Louie and her were more then business associates but that was non of his business. After jumping through a few hoops with the women he was able to get Louie on the phone. After Joel had filled Louie in on the situation Louie suggested that they meet in his office.\n\n\n\n\nJoel pulled up outside the building. It had once been a post office but was acquired by Louie when they built a new post office directly across the street. Upon entering the building Joel talked to the secretary, who matched his prediction exactly. \n\n\n\n\"I'm here to see Louie.\"\n\n\n\n\"You must be Joel, have a seat he's expecting you.\"\n\n\n\n\nSitting there Joel couldn't take his eyes off this women, She couldn't of been past 26 and had a perfect figure, yet he was disgusted by her. She can get anywhere based only upon her looks and he worked his whole life and now He's hinging all his hopes on some paper that said he owned fire. How does one own a state of matter? \n\n\n\n\n\"Mr Richardson will see you now.\"\n\n\n\n\nHe got up from the wooden bench which seemed to be an original piece to the building built in the '30s and walked into the office. The office itself could be considered a shrine to hunting, Rifles and game trophies hung on the wood paneling. Sitting behind his desk that had enough paper stacked on top to re-write the bible if one desired to. Louie was a short, heavy man, he wore glasses that were far too small and his tie was always loose, he never wore a jacket either. \n\n\n\n\n\n\"Joel you son ofa' bitch, I thought you had forgotten about your dear old pal Louie! What 'ave you been up to eh?\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\"I've been busy Lou, How's your Jen?\n\n\n\n\n\n\"Don't remind me I'm married to that bitch, now let's see this paper.\" He said in a joking manor that you could tell held at least some truth to it.\n\n\n\n\nJoel handed over the paper. \"I called the office they say it's legitimate\" \n\n\n\n\n\n\"Very interesting\" Lou said while closely examining it.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSorry if it's written bad/ wonky. I'm pretty tired and was smoking a joint while writing. Anyway hope you enjoy I might finish it later but it's a long shot. Sorry :-(" ]	2
	[WP] Jesus returns. Men execute him for zealotry. God decides to solve the human problem once and for all.	[ "\"Damit!\" God cursed as he heard the news. once again his son, the savior of humanity had been slaughtered. he thought to himself, this is it, this is where the line is drawn. God was furious with humanity. \"No longer shall i give them mercy! for they did not give mercy to my son!\" with just a thought, the seas upon earth began to churn, the earth shook with terrible force, lighting stuck the fields and fissures ripped apart the earth. god looked upon the utter destruction with a sense of satisfaction. He listened for a while to the silence, and grief arose in his heart, what had he done. He had destroyed the ones he loved most.", "A lightning pierces the gloom as a few raindrops pitter-patter on the floor, an undescript grey of an undeterminable material.\n\nA grunt. Then, an exasperated sigh.\n\n\"Again?\"\n\nThe short and slightly Arabic-looking figure shuffles his feet. He seems embarrassed as he waves his hands apologetically and mumbles.\n\nThe larger figure throws his hands in the air, suggesting with that simple gesture that he had had better days than this.\n\n\"Honestly, I send my one true begotten Son and those wankers off him. Twice!\"\n\n\"Forgive them, Father, for they...\"\n\n\"Oh, do be quiet.\"\n\nThe larger figure drums his fingers against a ruined pillar and runs a large hand across his face. He silently contemplates the events that led up to this moment, Father and Son standing at the corner of Reality. It all seemed too familiar to him. Humanity seemed to be hell-bent on remaining bloody stupid, whatever the cost. Honestly, sometimes he suspected they did it on purpose, like a man crashing his car and screaming, You can't tell me what to do!\n\nThe Son lets out a small chuckle. \"You have to admit, neither of us thought it could end the same way twice, hey? I mean, okay, you make a mistake, kill the Son of God once, but doing it twice? They really manage to outdo themselves, don't they, Father? Father?\"\n\nThe large figure's nostrils flare a bit as he squeezes the words from between his clenched teeth.\n\n\n\"That. Was. Not. Amusing.\"\n\nHe viciously kicks an unassuming rock and waves his hands about as he strides to and fro, punctuating his words with short slaps of his thigh. \"I have had it with those over-rated apes. I give them Heaven to look forward to, Hell to make sure their enemies do not go unpunished and they go and fuck up twice in a row, no Jeshua, be quiet!\"\n\nHe whirs around to face the smaller figure and stutters in anger.\n\n\"They, the whole lot, can go and rot in their little stupid world, I am done, I have had it, sod this for a lark, I am through.\"\n\nThe Son waves his hands about as before, trying to indicate that yes, indeed, the humanity can be bloody stupid but at a pinch they will come through, even if they managed kill the Son of God twice, we all make mistakes.\n\nA deep sigh escapes the Father.\n\n\"Come, Jeshua. We have work to do.\"\n\nThe Son runs crabwise to keep up with his Father as he purposefully strides, a determined look in his thunderous eyes.\n\n\"See how them buggers like a bit of competition. Been on Gliese 667 lately?\"\n", "God decides that to punish the people that killed Jesus. He punished the people that were directly involved in killing him, capturing him and the people who supplied and funded his death. He changed the perception of everyone involve so that everyone they looked at had the face of Jesus and they would torment them. When they were alone, they would hear nothing but the sound of knifes sharpening, getting ever closer and whispering, just out of reach to hear what is being said. He invaded there dreams and would show them as they are killing Jesus but when they saw him, he would morph into members of family and friends, so they would be killing everyone they knew within months.\n\nThe madness would drive them insane, some to commit suicide and be sent to hell, other to turn to drugs, some were forced into living life as a hermit, away from all the faces. The people committed suicide were dammed to a hell, those who were unable to repent for there crimes were either forced into hell or purgatory, to still be haunted unable to escape, even in death. Those that repent honestly were allowed into heaven, only to be forced to go back to earth after going through the pearly gates, still haunted but in the knowledge of heaven excisting." ]	3
	[WP] An undercover cop is given an obscure word or phrase to drop into conversation only if things go badly and the mission is aborted. However, for some reason, the natural flow of conversation with the people he's infiltrating makes it very hard to avoid saying it.	[ "This is actually true. I know of a police jurisdiction where \"I'm OK\" is code-speak for \"I'm being held hostage.\" A new officer was involved in a foot-chase and dispatch was trying to determine what was going on and he instinctively says \"I'm OK!\" The dispatcher starts paging the local SWAT team and they're gearing up to rescue an officer who just blurted out the wrong words. He was fine. ", "The captain's knuckles were pressed on the table, and his tie hung lazily from a stressed collar. Det Simmonson was wreathed in cigarette smoke at the back of the room.\n\n\"This is a big one for us, Reinhardt.\" Said the captain, to the hit undercover cop sat across the table, now being fitted with his wire by a small team of technicians. \"Six years of careful infilitration of the Nicoletti family; and tonight, we're within snatching distance of bringing down their whole operation.\"\n\n\"Relax, cap!\" Smiled Reinhardt, as a particularly attractive female technician fixed an incredibly sophisticated microphone to his chest. \"This'll be a piece of cake. I'll extract the confession and be out of the restaurant before you can say 'That's Amore'!\"\n\n\"Goddamnit, Reinhardt!\" Replied the captain, grabbing another glass of water from the cooler, so he could take one of his regular handfuls of blood-pressure medication. \"Don't you screw this up! City hall are so far up my ass, my colon has had to have its zoning permits reviewed!\"\n\n\"And that's another thing,\" added the cool and collected form of Det Simmonson, \"you can't say 'That's Amore'. Our extraction squad has agreed on it as the trigger phrase. You say that, and you'll have fifteen trained cops smashing in to the restaurant so fast you won't have time to tip.\"\n\n\"Simmonson - why the hell would I need extracting? This whole thing'll be a piece of cake.\"\n\n\"Damnit, Reinhardt!\" Said the captain, scooping down his pills. \"If you drop this ball, I swear to God, the mayor is gonna have my ass for a car-seat. I still haven't cleared the fall-out from the little matter of you driving a firetruck through his mother's 90th birthday party.\"\n\n\"Chief,\" replied Reinhardt, coolly, \"I'll be fine.\"\n\n~♤~\n\nThe Sicilia wasn't an unimpressive venue. Sal Nicoletti had the seabass flown in, where he could. And while the waiters may have stinted on the wine, they more than made up for it with sizeable helpings of parmesan.\n\nReinhardt - no; here he was Gio de Graffi - sat and watched thr chuckling frame of Don Nicoletti, who had just embarassed his henchman Sully with a well-timed anecdote, somehow combining Sully's unwieldy frame, Irishness and penchant for brunettes. The red-faced goon gave a weak smile and excused himself. The mobster continued laughing and slapped at the table, turning to face the reproachful eyes of his daughter Caterina.\n\n\"What? Whaaat?\" He giggled. \"You're saying I can't have any fun on a night like tonight, of all nights, mio bambino?\"\n\n\"Papa, you do always so embarass poor Mr Sullivan...\"\n\nNicoletti padded down his brow with a napkin, which he then flung back on to his lap.\n\n\"Mea culpa, sweetie, mea culpa. Just the look on his face...!\"\n\nHe and his lieutenants broke out in to yet more raucous laughter. As he joined in with the merriment, Graffi gave a few light taps at his torso; nothing to give the game away, but enough to reassure him that his gear was still there. He leant in as the laugh riot died down, and the don seemed to compose himself.\n\n\"Fifteen years,\" he began, giving slow nods, \"fifteen years we've been waiting to drive out the Koreans; to get our hands back on that rat bastard Di Lombardi; to finally get everything we deserved.\"\n\nThe laughter dead, everyone else gave solemn nods.\n\n\"I'm an old bastard now, but - after tonight, I can rest assured that my business will go on in the hands of my beautiful daughter Caterina, and her capable husband Silvio.\"\n\nSmall applauze. The bashful couple gave nods of gratitude.\n\n\"Finally,\" continued Nicoletti, \"we'll be able to solve all our problems. We're gonna remind those sons of bitches who said we'd never amount to anything that the name of Nicoletti carries weight.\"\n\nMore applause. Lieutenants gave the appropriate chorus of assent. Before the chatter could re-start, Nicoletti rubbed his hand on his eyes and looked perturbed. \n\n\"What's wrong, boss?\"\n\n\"It's just...aaahh, it's nothin'.\"\n\nGio leant forward. Currying favour would always be useful.\n\n\"Tell us, boss.\"\n\nThe don sighed.\n\n\"Just...this is the greatest night of my life to date. The fulfilment of a decades-long dream. The end result of hours of gangland work; murders, extortion rackets, tax dodges; even the occasional smuggling. But in all this time...\"\n\nEveryone quietened.\n\n\"In all this time, I've still never learnt the words to that damn song.\"\n\nGio was puzzled.\n\n\"Song, boss?\"\n\n\"Ya know...When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie...somethin' somethiiiiin,...\"\n\n\"Somethin' somethiiiin'.\" Everyone else obliged.\n\n\"Just...ah...my papa used to sing that to me when I was a boy. If only I could find out the words to the rest of that song...ah, I'd be the happiest man alive...\"\n\nSilence. Then:\n\n\"What about Gio?\" Asked Caterina.\n\nNicoletti was broken from his boyhood reverie.\n\n\"Whah?\"\n\n\"Gio, papa. He's from out of town...he might know the words, while we all forgot them.\"\n\nA smile broke out on the Don's face.\n\n\"Tha'ssa great idea!\" He beamed. \"Gio - tell me, kid. Do you know those words?\"\n\nAll faces turned to him.\n\nSlowly, sweat formed on his brow.\n", "My contact referred to him as \"loco\". He warned me, not to mess with this man. I was by now used to drug dealers themselves being their best customer, but this man, he was entirely different from all the ones before. He had entered the room without any expression on his face whatsoever, maybe a bit of boredom, but nothing more. His ill-fitting sportscoat seemed to be quite a nice piece. Or at least it used to be, now it was covered in stains and had lost it's sharp form. His hair was greasy which in combination with his high hairline and the bags under his eyes made him seem older than he probably was. There was a hint of grace in his movements though, all of his gestures seemed very controlled. It made sense to me, I was told he used to be an actor. I had never dreamed of it being THIS actor. \n\n\"I've heard about you. You're the one who killed \"El Animal\". Impressive.\"\nI hadn't, but the DEA has become pretty good at staging murders when somebody from the cartel changes sides. \"I-It had to be done.\", I murmured a lot less daring than I intended to.\n\"I like pragmatic men.\" He stepped closer to me, any doubt about his identity was gone now. \"You seem nervous though. Don't be afraid kid, nobody would believe you anyway.\" His face was only inches away from mine now, his left eye twitching uncontrollaby. I stood in silence, fearing for my life even more. He pulled away in a swift motion and turned his back to me for a moment. I heard the cocking noise and before I knew what was happening a .38 snub was pressed into my throat.\n\"You DO know who I am kid, don't you?\" He was screaming now. His face was the very definition of madness, his eyes pierced mine as he pushed his revolver harder against me. I felt like I could see the fire of hell burning inside him through his eyes. \"TELL ME YOU'VE SEEN MY MOVIES!\" \nI knew it was over. He'd shoot me. All the years of hard undercover work, of beating street thugs, robbing dealers and torturing thieving mules, it would all be for nothing. Just because this madman was in a bad mood. \"Yes.\" - \"YES WHAT!\" - it wasn't a question that exploded out of his mouth. \"Yes sir, I have seen them and yes, I know who you are.\" \"See, that wasn't so hard.\", he said, as his face went from a frightening grimace to expressionless in a split of a second. \"PROVE IT TO ME!\" I twitched as he placed the .38 on my forehead. \"FINISH MY FUCKING SENTENCE!\" I begged for it not to be that one phrase. He looked at a corner of the warehouse and phased out for a second, then turned his head back to me. \"Mmm gunna stealit\" he hissed out between his teeth. \nIt was that one fucking phrase. I stuttered some incomprhensible bits, but he pressed the gun firmer into my head again. \"FUCKING. SAY. IT.\" he growled at me. I took a deep breath, then the words left my mouth as my tensed up muscles relaxed a bit. \"I'm gonna steal the Declaration Of Independance.\" It would all be over in less than a minute. He pocketed his revolver as a brief smile struck his face, his eyes still wide open. Completely calm and without any emotion he said: \"Good, let's get over with the deal\", as the SWAT-team outside the door and windows counted from five down. ", "\"They say the best apples only grow on the south side of the Thames.\" It's not something you'd say by accident. It's not something you could just casually drop into conversation, is it? But I'm sitting here and sweating like a slut in church because it's about to come out of me the same way a bad meal would: all at once and at the wrong time. \n\n\nWe're sitting in a tight circle in Kerry's living room. She's curled up on the dirty floor like a dog, unwashed hair resting on Merguez' knee. It's on and off with them, but he's stroking her mousy hair with a heavy hand: rings and little tattoos on every finger. In her hands she's got a cigarette and every time she puts it up to her mouth I can't help but stare at the sores on the side of her lips. She shivers and drags the thin cardigan she's wearing closer around her. Merguez sits with his legs apart and a tin of beer in one hand, one lazy eye drooping and the other roaming the room. He's got a light in there I don't like; like a Rottweiler that's been chained up for too long. \n\nGazz and Jonesy are the other two in the room. Gazz has his feet up on Kerry's coffee table, but the last time it had coffee on it was probably the forties. It's covered in sticky tins of beer and overflowing ashtrays. Clean needles from the exchange sit on one side, still in their white paper wrapping. It's got me wondering if Kerry's high right now, or if she's coming down. She was always the worst of us. Merguez had promised once to stop fucking her when she was on it; but it looks like he can't keep away from her the same way she can't keep away from the good stuff. Jonesy is fiddling with a flick knife, because his mum took him to be diagnosed with ADHD once and he uses it as an excuse for everything. Jonesy hasn't sat still for more than five minutes in his entire life. \n\n\n\"I want some apple pie,\" Kerry moaned softly. She tapped the ash from her roll-up directly onto the beige carpet. \"Merg, you wanna get me some apple pie?\"\n\n\n\"Where the fuck am I supposed to get apple pie from, Kez?\" He snapped back. \n\n\nWe went back to watching the game on Kerry's tiny television. That's why we were there, you see. Arsenal v Spurs. The seven months I'd been infiltrating this gang - I'd learned more about the premier league than I had done about heroin distribution. And it wasn't from a lack of trying. These louts barely knew what they were doing themselves. \n\n\n\"I'd get you apple pie, Kez,\" Gazz promised. \"Just don't know where to get it from.\" \n\n\n\"You could go down to Macca's. They do 'em\" Jonesy suggested and Kerry scowled. \n\n\n\"Nah, I'm talking about the homemade ones. My mum always used to make amazing ones. You ever had homemade apple pie?\" \n\n\nThe only thing they've used the gas stove for in the kitchen is to heat up heroin when all their lighters are out of juice. \n\n\n\"Homemade apple pie is the only kind worth eating,\" I supply lazily. \n\n\n\"Ain't it though, Mac? Where you from?\" \n\n\n\"Originally from Wales,\" I spouted the cover story. \"But then I lived in Kent my whole life, so...\" \n\n\n\"Yeah I was from south London, before coming up to this shit hole...\" \n\n\nMerguez slaps her against his knee and she cringes. My back stiffens. \n\n\n\n\"All I'm saying, is that apples tasted better down there!\" She cries. But Arsenal have scored and no one is listening to her. \n\n\n\"Go on son,\" Jonesy offers to the tiny players on the television set. They're celebrating too. \n\n\nSilence resettles over the dirty room. \n\n\n\"Yeah,\" I say without thinking. \"They say apples taste better-\" It dawns on me what I'm saying and I clam up. Jesus. Kerry throws me a tightlipped smile. \n\n\n\"What were you going to say, Mac?\" \n\n\n\"Just that apples taste better - there. You know, where we came from.\" \n\n\n\"But we came from different places?\" \n\n\n\"I just mean, like - more south than here, Kerry.\" \n\n\n\"Do you think there's a point where the apples start tasting better?\" She leans her head back carefully on Merguez' knee and he goes back to stroking her hair. \n\n\n\"Kez, everyone knows south of the river they taste better, okay? Quit griping.\" Gazz jumps in. \n\n\n\"South of the Thames?\" Kez says\n\n\n\"Yeah,\" I breathe a sigh of relief. \"That's it.\" \n\n\n\"Say it then,\" she winks at me. \n\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\n\"Say it. Say: the apples taste better on the south side of the Thames.\" \n\n\n\n\"Why?\" My palms are sweating. There's a light in Kerry's eyes, usually dull blue and now they're sparkling like she's got a secret. \n\n\n\"Just a hunch. Don't you want to go home?\" \n\n\n\"I'm not going to say it, Kerry.\" \n\n\nArsenal scores again. The moment is lost. No one has been listening. Merguez slaps her again. I laugh and grab another tin of beer. Safe, for now. ", "“Ostrich”, they said. Fucking ostrich. “No way ostrich is coming up in a drug deal”.\n\nNo one mentioned the idiot had a fucking ostrich.\n\nA. Fucking. Ostrich.\n\nWho has a pet ostrich?\n\nEccentric cocaine dealers, that's who.\n\nThat's why Morelo asked me “what the fuck are you talking about?” when I said the money was “right there, by the big \ndove”.\n\n“Have you never seen an ostrich before?”, he asked, because who the fuck calls an ostrich “the big dove”?\n\nThis idiot, that's who.\n\n“Oh, that's an ostr – that's what that is?” I replied, my asshole clenched so tight it could cut a number 2 pencil in half.\n\n“Scott, you're telling me this is the first time you see an ostrich?”, asked him, the golden chains clinking as he walks my \nway.\n\nI say the word ostrich and this place is run down by a SWAT team faster than you can say... ostrich. But he doesn't know \nthat, of course. To him, ostrich is just his freaking pet.\n\nWhat's wrong with having a golden retriever, for God's sake?\n\n“I thought they were called Emus”. I smiled. He didn't.\n\n“Jesse is not an emu. She's an ostrich. Understood?”\n\n“Ok. The money is right by Jesse's side, on my briefcase.”\n\n“Emus suck. Don't you agree?”\n\n“I do, I do.”\n\n“You know what's better than emus?”\n\n“Jesse?”\n\n“OSTRICHES. Do you understand?”\n\nI'm pretty sure I shitted myself right about there.\n\n“I do. I do. Can we just complete the transaction?”\n\n“What's Jesse, Scott?”\n\n“What?” I don't have a gun. A SWAT team storms this hotel room, exchanging fire with these dealers, and I'm like a \nbleached asshole in the middle of a dick and cock mingle.\n\nMeaning I'm fucked.\n\n“Jesse. Is. Not. An. Emu. Do you understand?”\n\n“I do, Mr. Morelo. Very much. Let's just make the trade, ok?”\n\n“No.” He waves his guys, “Bring me Jesse.”\n\nHave you ever seen an ostrich walking across a hotel room filled with cocaine, money and drug dealers while trying to \nstop yourself from crying like a bitch and silently calculating the escape route of a building? \n\nI have.\n\n“Pet her.”\n\nI pet the fucker.\n\n“Tell me. Is this an Emu?”\n\n“No, sir, it's not.” It's a fucking ostrich. \n\n“What is this?”\n\nShit. Shit. Shit. Shit.\n\n“It's an... ostrich. Fuck it, it's an ostrich! Ostrich! Ostrich! Save me, come in, come in! They have guns! OSTRICH, \nOSTRICH, OSTRICH!”\n\nNothing. And, of course, they look at me like I'm crazy.\n\n“Ostrich!”\n\n“What the fuck are you doing?” They ask, but it's just to be polite, seeing as the guns are already pointed at me.\n\n“OSTRICH! What the fuck, guys? Ostrich!”\n\n“Who the hell are you talking to?”\n\nAnd just as the guns are cocked, I remember.\n\nAlpaca. It was alpaca. Not ostrich.\n\nAlpaca.\n\nWhy did I think it was ostrich?\n\n“Shoot this motherfucker.”\n\nI could have said “alpaca” before they opened fire. I don't know why I didn't.\n\nIf I had to take a guess, I'd say it's cause I thought I deserved it, in a way.\n\n“I'm gonna die because of alpacas and ostriches”, I think, as Jesse stares at me from above. “Is that blood on my shirt? \nWho messes up alpacas for ostriches, anyway?”\n\nThis idiot, that's who." ]	5
	[WP] An extraterrestrial invasion has forced the world's nations to reveal their most secretive and powerful weapons.	[ "I sighed.\n\nThis meeting was dragging on like nothing I've ever seen, and I say that as an observer of these United Nations talks.\nIt was all about that recent alien invasion, and quite frankly, I'd rather be home helping my sister and her husband get ready if we have to run.\n\nA man, Jacques from Portugal I believe, nudged me and motioned to the stand. A general, with an obvious American flag on his breast was preparing his papers, a speech from the looks of it.\n\n\"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen,\" He said, in the stereotypical American voice, \"I am General Eastboard, representing the United States of America in this summit.\"\n\nThe crowd was still buzzing, thinking it was still more standard UN bullcrap.\n\n\"I would like to kick off this session with the United States of America's method of defense against the recent extraterrestrial attacks on the planet Earth.\"\n\nThe crowd gradually became silent during his statement, there was an obvious tension in the air. The general used his clicker to unveil a picture of a drone that resembled a mini fighter.\n\n\"The United States of America has been in the process of developing a new drone that could be used to drop heavier payloads on the target. However, with the recent attacks, the focus has been shifted from fighting humans on the ground to fighting these extraterrestrials in the sky. The United States has been fortunate enough to recover some downed UFOs, and we have developed a payload of air to air missiles that are effective in penetrating the armor and causing damage. That is all.\"\n\nThe general stepped down, and he handed the clicker to a man with a Canadian pin. The crowd was silent during this, but we erupted into applause when he was stepping down from the podium. The Canadian representative tried to calm the ground down.\n\n\"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for your welcome reception of the United States' countermeasures.\"\n\nThe crowd calmed down, and he began again, using the clicker to unveil a picture of a ship.\n\n\"I am Frenco D'voure, representative of the Canadian government to this summit. The Canadian government has been working in accordance with the United States to develop a naval battery able to take down passing UFOs, up to an effective range of 160 kilometers.\" He hesitated for a bit, trying to hold back a smirk, \"That's 100 miles for you Americans.\"\n\nThe crowd laughed, and so did I, and he continued.\n\n\"The United States has shared their findings with us, and we have come up with a surface to air missiles designed to also penetrate this armor the captured UFOs have. I thank you for your time.\"\n\nThe crowd applaused, and I got up and walked outside for a smoke. When I left, some \"Tony Gerolti\" from the UK was introducing himself.\n\nI looked out at the New York skyline, and was greeted with many jets flying in formation, with no civilian aircraft in sight. There were soldiers all around the UN, some on patrol, some on sentry, some looking to the sky, others just lounging about. America was on high alert, and the people are going nuts, but that's what I've gotten from the news. A car alarm in the distance. We were told that all the G8 nations would unveil their super powerful weapons to defeat the aliens who've come from some planet far far away.\n\nI stood, transfixed by the seemingly ironic beauty of this New York for a bit, and stepped back inside. By now, the last of the G8 countries were preparing.\n\nA man wearing a baseball cap and uniform came up to the stand. He had a thick Russian accent. The applause from the previous nation, Italy by the looks of it, was dying down, and the Russian took it as his cue to begin.\n\n\"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Russia would like to introduce its defense against these aliens that have come to kill us.\"\n\nThe man was very informal, and some other observers were taken aback by this. In the meantime, the Russian clicked to the next slide.\n\n\"Russia has been working on some tanks to combat alien technology should it ever land and preform a direct assault. It has been outfitted with the biggest cannon our finest manufacturers could produce. Our estimates suggest that one shell with severely cripple the enemy, if not destroy it. Thank you for your time.\"\n\nThe crowd applauded in a very awkward manner, like having a kid preform a bad recital right after a professional. A man without a pin stepped up to the podium after a minute, wearing a serious demeanor on his face.\n\n\"Thank you for attending ladies and gentlemen, but what has been revealed here cannot be revealed to the public. All observers will be sent to the underground bunker for 24 hours and then sent off back to their respective embassies to inform their Commander in Chief of the current status of all the G8 prototypes. Thank you for attending.\"\n\nI wonder if Jacques could fill me in on what I missed.", "The gems were first discovered long ago, and over the years a race was under way to understand how to best use them. It turned out a simple impulse, a thought, could open up the vortex inside and tap into what appeared to be limitless energy. The gems shape and the will power could alter the use and shape. This was not some hokey colored ring joke, but real energy that could be manipulated and used for many, many different things. \nThe leaders of the country who discovered this kept it very secret, and hid it away well before any of this information could be stolen or divulged to the enemies of the great nation. \nMany years have passed and we, the keepers of the gems have been in hiding since the fall of our great nation, but now it seems we are called upon as alien forces are here with what appears to be the intention of killing all humanity and stripping the earth of all the minerals and water in an attempt to restock their interstellar voyage. We are not some quick-e mart. \nSo we did what was needed, even though exposing ourselves was something we did not want to do. \nWe waited, of course, to see how the world would respond. Russia had some bio enhanced suits that were nuclear powered that they reversed engineered from the Tunguska event that proved to be almost useless other than search and rescue. The USA had some old tesla weapons that did some damage at first, until the invaders puzzled out the source and stopped the source with harmonics. \nChina and India unbelievably had access to ancient weapons that seemed mystical in origin, but their effects were limited to small scale despite their odd origins and power levels. \nSouth America had a satellite in space with EMP rail guns and launched several large solid rods of unknown material at the ships that penetrated two ships and downed them, much to the dismay of humanity as one crashed into Australia and the other into the ocean. \nAfter all the secrets came out, and no more cards were left to be dealt, we left our base, hidden under the south ice of Antarctica and took to the skies, and with our weapons demolished the invaders and hurled them deep into space. But now the world knew of us, and we had no reason to hide. The world had been saved by the last of the German Nazi regime, and now the hardest part would be convincing the rest of the world that the invasion was real and not a staged hoax to have us present ourselves as saviors. But the gems would help, we would make sure of that. \n", "Deep inside one of the secret military bunkers deep within area 51 a secret meeting takes place. The president of the United States along with many of the high ranking military officials meet to discuss a potential war outbreak with an alien race. \n\n“They haven’t attached yet, and quite frankly if you look at our weapons we won’t stand a chance, and I’m not one for destroying the entire planet with nuclear weapons,” says the president to the committee.\n\n“What do you propose then Mr. President? I’m not sure how much time we have left.” The vice president says over the intercom from a remote location. \n\nOne of the top leading scientist in the field of biology stands up. “Excuse me…I’m sorry, I just had to say a word. I have an idea”\n\n“Go on.” The president says.\n\n“Well, their biology I’m sure is almost like ours. I mean they look like us so the genetic structure shouldn’t be too far off.”\n\n“I don’t mean to hurry but can you get to the point.” The president has no patience, there is no time for explanations.\n\n“Right…We make them sick basically. The grease, all that fat…We can produce mass quantities of McDonalds, Burger King, Taco Bell…All these companies, get them together and have them mass produce and offer it to them. Make them think we are giving them our world. I mean there’s no point in fighting them…If we pretend to surrender and just feed them, eventually they will get sick. There’s no way their bodies can handle that…”\n\n“How do you know they’ll get sick?“ the president asks.\n\n“With all due respect Mr. President, have you seen the health of most of the USA’s citizens?”\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Give me a rundown on what we've got so far.\" Walking quickly down the hallway the air was tense. The world had received word from NASA no more than 5 hours ago that a transmission had been received and they were currently tracking an alien space craft. Since then the world had declared a temporary cease fire, opting to pool their greatest weapons together in hopes they'd be able to stand against this new threat.\n\n\"Well no big surprises. Japan has a nearly functional giant robot. No real projectile weapons on it though. Russia has the nuclear powered bear calvary though we've known about that for a while. Canada has apparently been modifying the Toronto Maple Leafs into super soldiers. I'm not sure how effective that's been though. They're 6 and 4 so far this season. The UK was trying to explain something about a Doctor and a Police Box? They just sounded like crazy people. Surprisingly Australia did come out and admit to a Cannon-like Laser though that they've had in their hobbit holes. Or is that New Zealand? I can never-\" \n\n\"That's all good and dandy but what about the big dog? What's the US got?\" \n\n\"Well... That's what we're going to find out. Their top generals have gathered along with their weapon. They're in the briefing room.\" Quickening the pace they reached the door. Apprehensive, knowing the fate of the world could very well depend on what the US had as a secret weapon, they punched in their codes and activated the fingerprint scanners. Entering the room there was a man sitting at the table facing the door. In front of him two US Generals. The two stand and face the new guests. \n\n\"This is Codename Independence Day. He is the best agent the US has ever seen.\"\n\n\"Will Smith? May their Gods have mercy on their souls and ours forgive us.\" ", "''Your majesty, it is time to leave, the palace is under attack!'' The young adjutant proclaimed to the elderly woman, his sovereign. She had ruled her kingdom for many long years, always hoping that she would never have to use... that. ''In our darkest hour, we must reveal our deepest secret. I must go alone.'' She insisted on that, no need for such a nice young man to see such horrid devastation. After he, in mild protest, had left her she rose from her throne and pulled the secret lever hidden with a small compartment on the side of it, a nearly forgotten door opened behind her.\n\nShe remembered how it was, how her father had taken her to see the ancient weapon of their kingdom, kept by the royal line as a last remnant of their legacy from the days of myth and magic. He had had no sons nor could his brother or cousins be counted on, feeble minded or corrupt in their hearts he had said they were. As she was his eldest daughter, he had chosen to share it only with her, not her sisters, the unlikely heir to this kingdom from before the magic had been pulled away.\n\nHer old bones ached as she descended the steep stairs going ever deeper into the dark cold earth, she could not count on others to do this. She had informed her firstborn son about the artifact, as the last lesson to prepare him for the mantle of king and protector of the people. Her beloved husband was a well-meaning oaf, and she missed him all the more for it.\n\nCloser now, down the stairs until they stop at the mighty gates, forged from the iron taken from the dead Frankish knights and from the remains of the Irminsul stolen in the blackest night all those long centuries ago. In the middle of the chamber before the gates that would lead her into vault, there stood a pedestal with a knife and a bowl. A price must be payed, so she had known, she had seen her father do it all those years ago. She winced in pain as the knife severed her flesh, making a horrid gash from which blood seeped into the bowl.\n\nThe chamber would shake and rumble as the timeless doors opened, yet she held her composure and balance for a queen must look her best in any situation. She paced her decaying old body into the vault that kept the weapon. She knew the words to speak, to break the spell that was cast upon it yet she trembled before it. Magnificent, crafted not by the hands of mortals but made in a world beyond our comprehension, the metal was gleaming as if it were forged but a day before. The runes told of its power and magic. The only thing weird was that the handle was shorter than it should be. It had not aged a day since her last visit forty years ago. ''Our kingdom stands at the end, we walk in the darkness. I break the contract my ancient blood has held unto this day. We need the old again, we called forth the warrior spirit of our ancestors. I name thee weapon: Mjølnir, the hammer of Thor, and I break my bond to White Christ to wield you. In the name of Odin in Valhalla, grant me the power to save my people!''\n\nThe general ran into the UN underground command bunkers stragedy room where the leaders of the human nations were trying to plan a counterattack and yelled: ''Mr. President, we have just got a report that the alien flagship hovering over northern Europe has been obliterated!'' The general could scarce believe it himself. The entire thing turned into dust by a storm unlike any other. ''Who is behind it? Mr. Prime Minister, is this something from the cache of unholy things that you took from the Nazis during the war that you so loathed to share with us?'' He asked as he turned towards his British colleague who paled by the second. ''No, I'm afraid those were the first targets on British soil, not that they had any real worth or practical usability. I personally believe that mr. Putin have held some secrets from us.'' The Russian man looked as stoic as ever, not betraying his intense fear and surprise at this show of force. ''Niet, we had hoped that the Deaths Hand device would have had this effect, but Soviet engineering, what can you say. It did not work as intended, now there is big hole in the middle of Siberia.'' Other heads of states either in the room or on call would also deny any knowledge to the cause of this victory, except North Korea who were politely ignored. ''Sir it is anther one down, the one over Britain sir.'' The President was confused, not only did a weapon exist that could render battle stations half the size of the moon into dust, but someone had more? Few noticed that a certain Prime Minister of a small insignificant country in Northern Europe had been trying to get the attention of everyone until she had to practically yell at the top of her lungs to say: ''I have just been briefed on the weapon!'' She exclaimed to the astonishment of the world leaders. How could the Prime Minister of Denmark, one of the most insignificant countries in the world, have knowledge on a weapon of mass destruction like this? ''Well, apparently this weapon is non-terrestrial, and have been a hidden secret of the Danish government for... more than a millennium at the very least. I have only been briefed on the basics by the Crown Prince, and I think you would know it best as Mjølnir, and her majesty Queen Margrethe II is wielding it.'' Some laughed, thought it a joke, others just shook their heads, obviously the Prime Minister had gone insane because of the stress of the situation. ''I am aware that you may not believe me, but here is the photographs taken of the Queen wielding a hammer that shoots thunder.'' That got their attention, as more and more reports of annihilated alien warships coming in from every corner of the world, all destroyed by an old lady wearing a dress, a crown and wielding the hammer of the thunder god.", "The president stared a computer monitor running a program that he had used only once before. It was a cisco program actually, some type of teleconferencing tool but built to be impregnable by any listening ears, both above and below us. One by one, faces began to appear on the screen. The U.N. Secretary General, the British Prime Minister, The French President, the chairman of the JCS, etc. Notably absent was Vladimir Putin of Russia and Angela Merkel of Germany, rumored killed in the initial fray. All in all, some 35 of the most powerful people were connected in one peaceful space amidst a world slowly turning to ash; the president could hear it outside his own bunker. He prayed for the less fortunate and then began. \n\"Ladies and gentleman. I never thought the day would come where a cause could emerge that truly united us, but it has. Individually, our best shots have failed. Our largest cities burn, our dead litter the streets and our proud fighting forces have been reduced to shambles. We need a plan. A joint plan and we need it fast. Ladies and gentleman, I don't know what you expected but I don't stand before you today with the answers. We must find them together. So.....what do we think?\"\n\nThe American Presidents computer remained silent for a few seconds before chatter commenced. The Chinese PM suggested a coordinated hail mary; expending all remaining cruise missiles, SAM missiles, manned and unmanned aircraft with a simultaneous nuclear strike on the fleet's orbital command and control structure. Spend it all, he suggested. Quickly, the British PM shot him down citing time and time again that our fighters simply couldn't match their fighters and not one ICBM launched ever made it to orbit. \n\nOver the next 30 minutes, world leaders suggested strikes of various kinds spearheaded by the greatest technology their country could muster. The president couldn't deny the brilliance and ingenuity of a good number of them. The Chinese stated to have a viral weapon they could program to kill invading ground troops, but needed time to program it and couldn't guarantee exclusivity to the aliens. The Indians had built a set of rail guns on the side of a mountain, trained directly at the Pakistani border; ready to annihilate any incursion that got past their outer defenses. The British had a fleet of unmanned combat aircraft, similar in prowess to the F-35 except these needed no pilot or controller, they were ran all by a state of the art AI. The Iranians had a computer virus that had been reverse engineered from the Stuxnet worm that had been used to cripple one of their nuclear facilities a few years back. They believed they could compromise their Fleet's communications and give a conventional strike a chance. However, ever idea tossed out was theoretical and and a long shot at best. There were plenty of ideas but none the type of hail mary we needed. Then a quiet voice spoke up that the President didn't recognize. \n\n\"Ladies and Gents, I think we're looking at this all wrong. We're like fish in a barrel and someone has dropped a shark. There's no fish in our barrel that can take out this shark.\" the voice said soberly.\n\nThe lines were quiet for a few moments before the British PM spoke up. \"The bloody hell does that mean?\"\n\n\"What I mean is, we need to stop looking in our pond. We need to look up. Further up even than the fleet above. For a while now, we've tracked a signal of unknown origin but clearly extraterrestrial and NOT of the fleet. At first, we couldn't believe what we were hearing and immediately wanted to reach out. But we listened first and the more we listened, the more these messages horrified us. Stories and accounts of interstellar fleets, wars and killing on a scale that you couldn't possibly imagine. So we kept the signal quiet from the rest of the earth, we feared revealing it for someone might reach out and let them know we were here. But now, I'm thinking that's precisely what we should do. Send out an SOS, flip every light in the house on and let the two come and duke it out. It's not a solution but it may buy us sometime to marshal our forces and formulate a plan. I know it's a very long shot but I think it's our best, bad choice.\" the voice said almost apologetically. \n\nThe line was again quiet for a few second before the French PM spoke up.\n\".......So you're telling us there's not one, but at least TWO races of homicidal aliens out there? Seriously? Why get our asses kicked by one bully when we can get two for the same price??? This is nuts, assuming they'd even do anything if we called. For all we know they know about us and just don't give a shit. And besides, who the hell are you to suggest all this?\"\n\n\"I'm a nobody\" the voice began. \"My boss was someone and his boss was someone, I'm just the last one alive who knows about this. But what I'm telling you is that, from a guy who has spent years ALREADY studying an alien culture, the fleet has us dead to rights, every option just dictates how quickly or slowly we die. We need help. \"", "Wrote waaaaaayyy More than I thought I was going to here. I took a couple liberties with the WP. Enjoy! Feedback appreciated\n\n[1/2]\n\nIn the deep, empty vastness of space, a massive metallic red-yellow disc slinks silently through the vacuum. Inside, a low hum can be heard by the ship's vast crew. Over a million Zeluthid beings drone about the passages of the Akaa's Refuge, as they have for hundreds of years. They are the sixth generation of their kind born in space on this expedition. They skitter upon the floor, the bulkheads, the overheads, their six or ten legs gripping tightly into the grooved, bumpy surfaces of the ship, their unyielding dark green carapaces clacking against one another as they clamber through the great halls. The air is thick and noxious, with an odor they no longer realize is not typical of their home world. None of the Zeluthids still alive, save for the High Elder, had seen the home planet seven hundred years ago. Even the long lifespan of the Zeluthids is usually no match for the impossibly long voyage they had been set upon.\n\nToday is different from every other day, though. Today, their voyage comes to an end. Del'Athir, first among the warriors, stands on the bridge of the ship beside Naaxaroz, the High Elder looking through the only window, into the deep blackness that his people have known for centuries, but today, as for the past eleven months, something is different. A bright yellow orb glows brilliantly, with a tiny blue dot growing larger and larger. Today, they can see mountains, rivers. Where the son does not touch, they can see untold millions of tiny lights clustered together, lines forming intricate paths between the largest of them.\n\n\"We approach, sire. This one congratulates you this day,\" the warrior hissed, his mandibles clicking to accentuate the ends of his sentences.\n\"More than a thousand years have passed since this One's great broodfather set his eyes on this planet.\" The ancient hulk of a creature gripped a clawed hand around an equally-ancient disc with an image engraved into it. \"There didn't seem to be as many lights then.\"\n\"We're preparing for our ascent, on your command, sire.\" As he spoke, ancient engines long in disuse billowed to life, as the planet became larger and larger in their viewport. \"Our trajectory is for this island, separated from the landmass to the east, where our ancestors landed a thousand years ago.\"\n\"Let it be so, Athir, of the Del Brood. Today we take this planet as our new home, that one day the Zeluthid Hives will extend through the galaxy.\"\n\nThe planet slowly crept out of view as the Akaa's Refuge came about, turning its' impossible mass to face the unforgiving orbit of this alien planet with its' broad underbelly, a proud but apprehensive moment as the centuries-old craft felt an atmosphere, albeit one much less cruel than the one in which it was originally built on the homeworld, for the first time in seven hundred years.\n\nDel'Athir stood before eight-hundred thousand eager Zeluthid warriors, the ship rattling and shaking as the atmosphere of the planet churned her about. The warriors milled restlessly, clad in their red-yellow metal armor protecting the sensitive underbellies of their abdomens, each warrior blessed with great clawed arms extending from the center of their thorax, each engraved precisely with words of inspiration from the Den of Knowledge, their link to a home world they had never seen. They each carried a weapon with their forearms, a powerful red mass accelerator with the ability to fire balls of molten metal up to three times without needing to be reloaded.\n\n\"Today, my brood-brothers, we take this planet for our mother Hive. We take this planet from the disgusting simian animals that call it their home. We will take it, we will eliminate them from it, and we will have Hives that rival that of the Great Lairs of the homeworld.\" Millions of armor-clad legs clacked into the ground as ear-shattering screeching met his candor.\n\"We will rip these apes from their steeds, their armor will be no match for our three-guns. Their spears will not pierce our armor. We will set forth from this ship, and establish an empire.\"\n\nMore screeching. More clanking. Del'Athir looked upon his army, his four black, beady eyes surveying the incomprehensible vastness of them. He was confident his army would know no defeat, for each of their guns carried three powerful shots, enough to wipe out the largest human city, and by then they would be able to discard them as new guns were built on the ship.\n\n\"Lord Del, this one begs forgiveness, but there is a development.\" Del'Athir was surprised to find a small, weak drone approaching him directly, hissing his annoyances in a high-pitched squeal.\n\"What is it, whelp? We are mere moments from landing, can this not wait?\"\n\"This one is apologetic, my lord, but the High Elder sent me to inform you, we received a signal we did not expect.\" The creature had genuine fear in its' eyes, darting back and forth like black pearls rolling across a white floor.\n\"A signal? An anomaly. These creatures have not discovered the basic capabilities to power electronics.\"\nThe creature winced and lowed its' head. \"This one regrets to tell you, they may have.\"\n\"Impossible, it was hundreds of thousands of years of development before our broodfathers discovered that power.\"\nThe tiny, servile drone produced a handset larger than his head, and pressed a button with a weak claw that looked like it could be snapped in half. A sound began to emanate.\n\"What is this?\" the warrior snapped, \"It sounds like...grunting? Perhaps it is wind blowing through your sensors.\"\n\"No, dear Athir. That is what the apes sound like. They speak with their tongues, passing air through their mouths,\" a voice from behind. The High Elder lumbered cautiously toward the First Warrior.\n\"But, my lord, that makes no sense. How could they be sending communications over the air? It was only a thousand years ago, they were communicating with simple writing. What are they saying?\"\nThe tiny drone, now even more intimidated in the presence of his High Elder, squeaked to life again \"Our translating is limited, but we think they are speaking to the ship directly. It seems to be something along the lines of 'Speak or have fire brought to you.'\"\n\nAs though fulfilling his own dark prophecy, the ship's already clattering hulk roared, rocked, and clashed as a hole ripped through the side of the Hall of War, fire and smoke billowing through the outer bulkhead as dozens of warriors are ripped out into the empty air. Between gaps in the fiery, strangling smoke blowing rapidly through the hole, Del'Athir could see green and grey. They could not be more than a few minutes from touching town.\n\nFor the first time in his long life, Del'Athir felt true fear. He mustered his not-inconsiderable courage and lept onto the mustering ground, pushing through hundreds of his brothers, his ornate yellow armor differentiating him from the rest. He approached the massive bay doors as he could hear the landing thrusters engage, as he felt the ship slow to a halt, heard the landing pods grasping firm ground. The High Elder was screeching something from the platform, the drones looked panicked standing around him. Cowards, he thought.\n\n\"Open the doors. To glory, brothers! For the Hives!\"\n\nThe doors slid open, rust blowing down from long-unused joints as hundreds of thousands of Zeluthid warriors crouched into position to charge from the mustering grounds. The first glimmers of sunlight entered the bay, and every warrior blinked confusedly, trying to adjust as the doors opened fully.\n\nDel'Athir lowered his huge, clawed war-arm from his eyes, and as he adjusted to the light he made out a strange, alien world. Grey, rocky protrusions surrounded them, green grass covering the landscape like a blanket. For the first time, Del'Athir smelled clean, oxygenated air, mixed with the sour, acrid smell of the rising column of smoke from the ship. It made him dizzy, made him feel faint. Is this what the homeworld smelled like?\n\nHe took his first steps, his ten legs clambering down the platform, the first Zeluthid in over a thousand years to dig his claws into true earth. He felt immediately like he had just arrived home.", "\"This is Marc Rakken reporting live from the world peace summit in Washington. World leaders today have begun displaying or demonstrating their most powerful weapons. The Republic of North Korea went first, displaying what they call a \"nuclear alternative\" unfortunately, nobody counts an old Russian anti-air missile as much of a nuclear threat, although some say that an old missile is an [smiles] alternative to power. \n Next up was Russia, with was was touted to be the most effective weapon yet. They called it \"reaper.\" It was designed to completely destroy all organic life within a massive area. It has been decommissioned, as tests proved that the use of such a weapon would harm the global balance of resources. After such a show of power, few thought that the now weak United States would have much to show. They claim, and I'm trying not to laugh here, that they have developed the first true time con\n\n\"This is Marc Rakken reporting live from the world peace summit in Washington. World leaders today have begun displaying or demonstrating their most powerful weapons. The Republic of North Korea went first... Actually... No... It couldn't... I have just received word that Russia's most powerful weapon, called the \"reaper\" has just been stolen. Nobody knows how or why, but the results are clear. Someone at the peace summit has gone to great lengths to obtain reaper. \"I have also received an update. The United States has withdrawn, declining to reveal their weapon now that reaper has been stolen. Speculation is that the USA had some sort it chrono-device, but what that entails is beyond the scope of this reporter. Back to you Greg.\" \n\n\nEdit 1: changed story a little\nEdit 2: changed smiles to [smiles]" ]	8
doesn't matter how. just looking forward to what ever you guys come up with, usually you do a pretty good job.	[WP]Giant Enemy Crabs the size of skyscrapers attack cities all across the world. tell how humanity discovered their weakpoint and attacked them for massive damage.	[ "It's been a week now. Seven days since the crabs got here. They've shut down the water supply and cut off transportation in and out of town. The only place woth food is a grocery store being guarded by the king crab on the far side of town. Everyone keeps telling me I'm the chosen one. I'm not so sure. They say \"this is what you were born for\" and \"you're our only hope.\" I really wish they would get over it. I moved past that chapter of my life long ago. Anyway, I've been told that If I can get to the king crab, I could kill him and this would all be over. The other crabs would drop dead and there would be a feast for everyone. I could be that hero. My friends started showing up with mixed bags of canned goods, all that was left from their cupboards. We were going to have one last feast. When it became time to eat I said \"you know what would really hit the spot? CRAB LEGS.\" So I went out and headed toward that faraway land known as publix. I evaded the security protocols and made it to the king crab. I knocked him into the dairy section and found that he was in fact quite weak. One of his henchcrabs came at me full speed and I dodged him. He flew into the butter shelf and vaporized. So I tied up the king crab and walked out the door. That was when I went back for the butter. When I hot home the polive were there. \"Why?\" I thought to myself. \"Mr winston, you're under arrest for stealing crab legs.\" What a strange dream", "Day 214 \nI don't know how long I can keep this up... I've been trying to tell the guys running this shit show about the simple truth. I think there's a flaw in the system. They just don't listen. The crabs are at it again, today they toppled the Globe Trade Center Quadruplet Tower... Yes, reminiscent of 9/11. I have to find a way to tell them... Damn, I'm running out of ink. I've traded away my last bics for some corn and now I'll have to stop writing here. I'll report back tomorrow, journal. You're what's driving me to bring light to this truth.\n\nDay 225 \nI don't know, journal. I felt like I should have saved some ink... Sorry I neglected you for a while. The past two weeks have been a fairly eventful fortnight. I met a girl just giving out bics for free, recruiting anyone who would use them to write and survive. I talked to her and found out that she's from the Writer's Guild. She brought me to their makeshift camp and I showed them my writings. For the most part, they seemed skeptic but they accepted me still. The atmosphere is lively, people are trading ideas and discussing about the imminent threat and my work definitely sparked a roaring resonance amidst the Guild Members. They have inspired me to push on. Dear journal, I will go easy on the names but I guess I should introduce you to some of them. The girl's Jodie, the Guild Master's name's Emmewaldo and the several other acquaintances whose names I still remember are Gunther, Ralph and Juno. Also, the pens are aplenty where we are. I am glad we are sharing pens here. People are trusting and friendly. Till next time, I'm going to fight to good fight.\n\nDay 240 \nI don't know... Damn. I know. I know, journal. I have always started with \"I don't know\" in my entries to you. Today, journal, I know. I have news. Good news. We may never need to starve on pens ever again. One day I may even write you on a typewriter, heck, maybe even an actual computer. It's been a while since I've touched one. Ah, damn, too excited. Back to the point.\n\nWith the connections Emmewaldo has outside the Guild, I managed to convince everyone that I have brought the truth and it needs to be told. The truth has been as simple as I have told you on the first day I started you, journal.\n\nThere's a reason I named you \"Giant Friendly Crabs\".", "Report of Battle *GNJI-2*, now commonly referred to as *\"The Day of the Blade\"\n\nDate:* Approximately 3006 A.D.\n\nCommander: Sonī Gōkyuukyuu\n\nCasualties: 3,000 Humans\n\nLocation: Los Angeles, California\n\nResult: \n\n* Decisive Human victory\n\n* Weakness of enemy discovered\n\n* Turning point of the Human-Crab War\n\nDetails:\n\n* 3:00 - First enemy crab spotted on the border of Los Angeles\n\n* 3:36 - Order to reinforce Los Angeles is given out\n\n* 3:54 - First instance of property destruction by enemy army; reinforcements arrive as the main enemy army arrives\n\n* 4:05 - First shot by Humans fired\n\n* 6:02 - First confirmed enemy kill\n\n* 6:03 - 11:55 - Continued battle. More property damage as well as two more confirmed enemy kills\n\n* 12:01 - Commander Sonī Gōkyuukyuu arrives and immediately implements new revolutionary Anti-Crab strategy (detailed below)\n\n* 12:21 - First confirmed kill using strategy\n\n* 13:37 - Majority of enemy forces killed, remainder either captured or escaped\n\n* 14:00 - Battle officially called victor for Human forces\n\nStrategy: 弱点の攻撃 (Jyakuten-no-Kōgeki) / Weak Point Strike\n\n* Examination of previously captured enemy crabs have revealed a weakly-guarded vital spot located on the lower belly of the crab\n\n* By dealing a decisive blow, enemy crabs are instantly killed, if not severely incapacitated\n\n* Was inspired by the events of Battle E3-06 by General Kazuo Hirai, where he instantly killed an overturned enemy crab with an unknown blunt weapon by attacking its underside\n\n* This strategy involves the usage of two special surface-to-surface missiles - the Overturner and the Piercer.\n\n* Overturner: A modified surface-to-surface missile that, instead of attacking directly at the enemy crab strikes the ground nearby. Its design creates a powerful shockwave that \"flips the crab over\". Its success is high ranging at 78-95%, mostly depending on the terrain used.\n\n* Piercer: A modified surface-to-surface missile that is designed to instantly kill the enemy crab. While the missile is not strong enough to pierce through the shell, it has a perfect fatality rate when attacking the underside. The missile is shot after a confirmed overturn by the overturner.\n\n* Because of the high potential that the overturner has on destroying its surroundings, the strategy involves soldiers to lure the enemy crabs somewhere else where the collateral damage is minimal\n\nStrategy Results:\n\n* After the usage in battle GNJI-02, the strategy was immediately adopted in all fronts\n\n* Every battle after GNJI-02 was a decisive victory\n\n* Approximately $5.99 million of collateral damage was caused by the weaponry, but when compared with the projected cost of repairs without the strategy ($9.89 trillion), the usage of the strategy was highly accepted" ]	3
	[WP] The zombie apocalypse strikes at a point in history when humanity is most vulnerable	[ "Urgok had always known he was different from the rest of the tribe and it wasn't just the sparsity of his fur or his ugly recessed brow. Urgok had big ideas. What if tribe fed the glowy red spirit that comes after the sky splits? What if plant things so when tribe come next year, have more fruits and nuts? Urgok think these good ideas but tribe not listen to Urgok when he grunt at them. Today is special day, Urgok sees others in the distance. Others like him! He rushes off, forgetting to take his new invention, the spear furtherer, in his haste to meet others who might accept him for who he is. His loping run quickly intercepts the group, who are much slower than the excited cro magnon. \"Hello new friends, my name Urgok.\" Then he is forever silenced, unless you include the screams as powerful jaws crack his bones for the marrow. Humanity never recovered from the loss of the inventor of the spear thrower, according to Neanderthal anthropologists studying the mysterious plague that wiped out their unfortunate cousins so many centuries ago.", "It started in the damned winter. We didn't even notice at first since many of the bodies froze in place. But as the days got warmer, they started to move. At first we tried to bind them and constrain them, but more and more started to crop up. I had been on an ambush when I saw my first one. We gunned down dozens of Redcoats, but they kept getting up. Nothing seemed to stop them. Nothing except a good dagger in the head. Firing lines proved failures against them. The soldiers could not hit the head fast enough, and the lines fell. The worst part is, the lines didn't just fall. They got back up. \n\nI was heading towards New York. I had borrowed a coat from a fallen officer and I had hoped to lie my way into the city. But the city was no more than a burning reck by the time I arrived. Now I find myself in a tavern, writing this down. I pray that my mother in Boston was alright. The wound in my side may keep me from reaching there. The pain grows with each passing moment and is spreading from my side to my head and arms. I need to rest first. I barley have the strength to finish this. I can hear some outside. Scratching on the walls and doors. I should be fine as long as I...", "Humanity was recovering from the blows of the last war. Many countries had been wiped clean off the map and the ones left were only hanging on by the skin of their teeth.\n\nIt was uncommon for one to see a stranger in this time, everyone knew everyone and they had to work together to survive in their world. No one could travel, the clouds were thick, dark, ash that wouldn't allow flight. The ocean had become a large burning pool of acid, as if the smell wasn't enough to stop you. No one could stand being near the ocean anymore, it had become a dead zone, reeking of rot and putrid decay. \n\nSome communities still used land transportation, searching for survivors, food, technology. Not much was ever found, it seemed humanity was on the brink of extinction but just as all hope seemed lost, humankind was able to reestablish a large community where the Earth was still green, there were new plants to eat and strange wildlife that, although stringy and leathery, was savory and sweet. Things were looking up, finally. \n\nUntil the tide began to roll in.\n\nIt started with that awful stench. The sickening odor of the ocean getting stronger every day. There was no stopping the tide, it would come and go, sometimes in larger waves than usual that brought a lot of unwelcomed smells. But humankind had found a paradise amongst the hell on Earth, they would not leave just because of a foul odor. Besides, they could not see any ocean appearing on the horizon so perhaps it was just the wind blowing in an unfortunate direction.\n\nThen they began to show up. Thousands of them, swarming their paradise. Their bodies were rotten flesh, organs were writhing about in ungodly ways. They did not need sleep, water or air, but they were hungry for something the living still had. ", "We'd all been rejoicing yesterday. How could everything change so quickly? A plague has rapidly spread like a fire throughout the world, bringing the dead to life, bringing them back to extinguish all of humanity. And we are powerless to stop them. Why now? Why must it come the day after Free Burrito Tuesday at Taco Bell? God has abandoned us upon our porcelain thrones to await hell's advance through our doors, left slightly ajar to disallow suffocation. I look over to the pumpkin scented candle burning dimly on the sink beside me, its wick is almost to its end. We're burning out together, old friend. Goodbye.", "Y2K. 2012. The Black Plague. Nuclear War. AIDS. Ebola.\n\nWe've predicted and feared the end of the world time and time again. We've written novels, dedicated comics, tv shows, movies and more to stories about the apocalypse, each one as tragic as the last. I'll even admit to half wishing for some kind of drastic change to the world - hoping for an apocalypse of modern society, I suppose.\n\nIn December of 2015 my dreams and nightmares came true.\nIt began with a worldwide rebellion; the impoverished and working class finally had enough. I can't say I blame the rebels, after all, I wasn't exactly rich. Of course now nobody is rich... Anyways, sick of all the racism, sexism, classism, and any other -ism you can think of, they rose up. All as one, united across every race and gender, the Workers rioted.\n\nWall Street, the White House, city halls, police and fire stations, military bases... all in flames at exactly the same time. The homeless all seemed to know what was happening and flocked to the fires like moths. Honestly, it was probably the warmest they'd been in months in the colder parts of the world. Everyone at home only knew what happened thanks to twitter and facebook, every reporter was forced away by rebels and law enforcement alike. Honestly, those are the only details I'm sure of from the beginning.\n\nThere were peace rallies: people who sympathized with the Workers, but didn't condone violence for change. I went to a few of those, but stopped when the riots inevitably began at each one. I stopped fearing the police, began fearing Workers... We hid in our homes, with as much food as was possible to buy or steal (nobody tried working at the grocery store after that - it was far too dangerous). The electricity and gas stayed on, though cell phones and internet went down on Christmas. We were alone, and could only assume that everyone else was alone.\n\nIt was me, my dog, and my sister. We lived near Detroit, where the riots were some of the worst and we were too terrified to even leave long enough to find our parents. I'd dreamed of reconstructing society, perhaps even tearing it down, but I had no idea what I'd wished for.\n\nJanuary 1st, 2016 and we saw hundreds of rockets headed into the sky, imagined that this day would be the last. In our minds, nuclear warheads had come and we only had moments left to live. We were wrong. Maybe it would have been kinder that way, instead as the smoke of the rockets cleared, we read the message in the sky.\n\"The President is safe. The rich and famous are safe. You are not safe. Good luck on your own. Good luck with the virus.\"\n", "(Been seeing a lot of prompts about zombies in history lately. I'm digging this trend)\n\nWilliam’s third day in the desert had begun, and the moans of the undead had only grown louder. His mount continued to hobble over the endless dunes, breathing heavily with every step. The poor animal had marched across the desert without rest for days. Most horses would have collapsed by now, but the animal feared the undead as much as its rider. \n\nWhen they reached the tallest dunes, William could look back and see them limping after him. Three days had passed, yet their pursuit continued. The piles of sand slowed them. They could not walk down the slopes without falling, and the steepest climbs slowed them to a crawl. But they continued all the same.\n\nThe Crusader had abandoned his armor after the first few hours in the desert. He had screamed and cursed when he dropped the scalding hot metal in the sand. If the undead had closed the distance, the armor would have been invaluable in combat. They could not chew through steel. William had not possessed the energy to curse when he ran out of food on the first day. He had tried to ration his supplies, but there was so little to begin with. His canteen had barely a sip remaining. He would save those last drops for the end. \n\nBy noon on the third day, his mount collapsed. He barely even felt himself hit the sand. He had slept in the saddle these last few days, and the rocking of the horse put him in a state of delirium. He rose to his feet and watched the dark figures stumbling over the sea of sand behind him. They were close. \n\nThe animal had served him well. He wished he could reward it by ending its misery. But the undead were attracted to live flesh. The Crusader stroked his horse’s neck, apologized, and continued the march. Two dunes had passed before he heard the animal cry out in agony. \n\nThe thought occurred to him that he should have brought a female horse. He may have been able to drink milk from a mare. He had heard of men in the east who mixed mare’s milk with horse blood to give them energy. Taking a male horse had been a mistake. He had made many mistakes in the week since the fall of Jerusalem.\n\nBy afternoon, he looked to the horizon and saw a wall of gray and yellow against the sky. He blinked the fatigue from his eyes and realized that a sand storm approached. If he were not so dehydrated, he might have cried. Behind him, the undead had only gotten closer. William’s aching legs had not carried him far. Somehow, he moved even slower than the horde behind him. \n\nHe reached for his canteen. There was no more need to save the last sip. When the drops hit his dry, cracked tongue, he let the canteen fall into the sand. With a weak grunt, he tore the sleeve from his tunic and wrapped it around his mouth to keep the sand out of his lungs. Dressed more feebly than any knight in history, William drew his sword and limped towards the damned.\n\nThe closest to him wore the same surcoat that William had once worn. It was red and gold; the colors of Richard the Lionheart. By the time the undead had closed the distance, the sand had begun to sting William’s face.\n\nThe surviving Crusader held his ground as his countryman staggered forward. The sun had almost peeled the skin from the walking corpse’s bones. One of his eyes was missing, and the other locked on William in a milky, empty stare. \n\nWilliam swung his sword through the man’s neck, decapitating him. He attempted to yell, \"St George\" as he attacked, but the cry caught in his cracked, sand-filled throat.\n\nHe swung again and again, striking down the bodies that shuffled toward him. Before long, the sound of the sandstorm had drowned out the moans of the undead. The dust blinded him. He staggered through the sand, swinging in wide arcs and striking little. He felt hands on him and he lamented the loss of his armor. \n\nA moment later, the hands that held him flew away from him. Around him, he heard the pounding of hooves on sand and the twang of bowstrings. William’s adrenaline subsided, and he felt the ground rise to meet him.\n\nBy the time he regained consciousness, the storm had passed. He felt a horse beneath him. For a moment, he wondered if it had been a dream. Then, he realized that his hands were tied. Around him were the horse archers who had rescued him. His heart sank when he saw their tanned skin and strange armor. They might have been Bedouins, Saracens, Turks, but it did not matter. They were enemies, and he was their prisoner.\n\nSo William’s march through the desert continued. All that he had gained was a new horse, and a set of teethmarks on his forearm which he would keep secret." ]	6
	[WP] You trudge through an icy tundra, slowly freezing. Eventually overcome, you drop to the snow and take your final glimpses of the light.	[ "So cold...\n\nHe chattered through his teeth, huddling in his wool coat with layers of clothes to stay warm but only bitter cold greeted his flesh with numbness. Harsh winds whipped everywhere, spraying ice into his face with frost and he couldn't feel his blackened nose anymore. \n\nHe opened his eyes a crack to look ahead across the frozen tundra and with a tilt of his head, he saw nothing ahead of him but the great walls of whiteness surrounding him and trapping him in like the eye of the hurricane. The whiteness was so blinding that he had to close his eyes as quickly as he opened them from burning into his eyes. \n \nFor what seemed like forever, he trudged on and on against the wind and snow whipping around him fiercely. \n\nCan't go on further... \n\nHe could feel nothing for cold had frosted all his insides and what's left of his humanity, and without any warning, he collapsed to his knees.\n\nCrackle.\n\nSnow crackled under his knees. \n\nCrackle.\n\nBut wait a minute... Snow wasn't supposed to crackle like that. \n\nCrackle.\n\nThe crackling noises echoed everywhere across the frozen tundra and he glanced up to see where they came from... nowhere but-\n\nThe tundra! It's made of ice! \n\nHe gasped as the ice collapsed like a ripple, its blocks of ice crumbling behind and falling into the large abyss.\n\nEverything happened instantly. Just as the ripple of broken ice shifted under his weight, he had nothing to hold on when he slid down with the ice, falling and falling forever into the abyss. Nothing but the darkness below... wait-\n\nIs that the light? \n\nHe thought he saw a sparkle of light in the midst of the abyss as he looked around frantically for something just to grab on from falling forever.\n\nFurther down he fell and fell, the sparkling light brightened more and more when it hovered higher and higher near him. At the equilibrium of passing when the light soared past him and he fell past it, the light blinded him more than the whiteness of snow above, more than anything. \n\nTwisting his back to look up at the light, he blinked his frozen tears back to make sure what he saw was just real, not figments of ice sparkling in his eyes. The light-now-turned-into-the shadow flying higher and higher with sparkles of smaller blue lights dancing underneath.\n\nIsn't that the UFO?", "Your brittle eyelashes weep heavy as you squint out through your polarized mask at the infinite oscillation of sastrugi before you. Hard beads of ice skim over the shallow plateau, like frozen mist over a sea of pure isolation. The whiteness blurs at first shading from opaque to a watery blue... a summertime blue. The waves ripple around you as you descend into the abyss, letting your body splash to the earth. As you turn your head, a soft lapping from where the dock juts into the pond reveals a pair of toes sticking in the semi-warm lake. You scan up the luscious legs to see Her there; Jackie-O sunglasses, azure one piece, tan freckles, and a hand held radio playing something familiar but unrecognizable. You squint harder now, because the sun is so bright, so bright, and you only want her to see you, to reach out her hand into yours and pull you up out of this. Your arm stretches out tall and firm, the last of your strength reaches and grasps at the nothingness. In that ether you feel the foreboding heaviness of life's last moments weight heavy on your tired appendage. At last she turns to you... sudden and sure... euphoric and warm... your hand in hers... you close your eyes and smile one last time, releasing yourself to the void.", "He had come out into this frozen wasteland for reasons that he wasn't exactly clear of. Maybe it was to face a challenge, or to go where no one else seemed to dare, or remotely care to go to. But perhaps in his lack of self awareness, it was that this place embodied how he felt. Cold, distant, and unwanted. He always appreciated the snow, it seemed pure and still. Life seemed to bend around the wake of the great mother with her cold blankets and icy sheets. When Mother Earth lays her chill across the land, no one could deny her strength.\n\nHe set out with a fervor he'd not had for as long as he could remember. He felt invigorated and reveled in the camaraderie with the tundra, he felt safe in its cold embrace. But that false sense of security was always his biggest foe. That safeness led him further and faster than one should have traveled, passing the true havens of safety. The outcropping of rocks which blocked the wind, or the few places where a bit of wood was available.\n\nOnward he moved, sweating and cooling. He pushed himself forwards blindly, embracing the distance and the cold. In life he failed to realize the dangers of lacking respect for bitter cold and impassable distance, just as he failed to respect the dangers of this land he embodied himself after.\n\nAs miles passed, so did the sun. The brightness left with all its warmth, leaving his sweat and effort to rifle what little heat his body had to offer. As panic set in, he realized he had gone too far. He set a frantic pace to find somewhere to hide, a safe place to find warmth: the loving embrace he had avoided all day, just as he had done for all of his days.\n\nThe moon sat lazily in the heavens, reflecting light off of the snow covered land like lights on a glassy lake. His muscles burned until they could burn no more as he found himself staring at the lazy monolith illuminating the land.\n\nHis teeth were still and unable to chatter. The land he had embodied himself after slowly became one with him. As he marveled the stars that he had never seen in the sky, he wondered why he had waited so long to come home.\n\n(Impulse write since I haven't written in a while, I know it's choppy. Critique welcome and I hope you all enjoy.)", "-- This actually fits in with a little series I really want to write. Without spoiling anything there are multiple catastrophes which threaten to end mankind, one of them happens to be coldness. In the full series I haven't worked out why but meh, this is a great prompt and I hadn't started on this part of the story yet so thanks OP! --\n\n\n\n--------------------------\n\n\n\nDaraka walked, and walked, and walked. The sky was inky like the pigments once used to dye the ribbons adorning her arms. The squid were long gone from her home now though. The icy ocean covering on which she walked was too solid for fishing.\n\nA frigid gust lifted motes of ice from the sheet below and blew them like dust across the landscape. It whipped at Draka's hair and ribbons before it died. Everything died, but not Daraka.\n\nIt was unexplainable, despite decades of cold, pervasive darkness she felt that the end was near and it wasn't to be her end, it was the end of darkness.\n\nHer bones clattered as she shivvered violently. She should already be dead, she knew that. The cold should have killed her, the starvation should have killed her but it didn't. She refused to die and instead she walked.\n\nThe sky was lighter in one direction, that direction was behind her. It seemed silly - to walk towards the darkness - but it was right. In the distance all she saw was a flat, solid ocean of ice. It was all she had seen for days, or was it a week? That uniformity of the landscape made it striking when she finally saw a shape. A hill, a dome. It was a little like her home so far away but it was bigger. Much bigger. Perhaps as big as four or five of the houses back home. \n\nShe approached the dome, hours later she finally drew close. She didn't know what it was but she knew that this was it. The thing she had walked to find.\n\nShe collapsed then. Her jaw smacked into the ice like it was made of stone. Stone, something her people hadn't seen in half a century. Not since the ice came in and the light retreated.\n\nDaraka shook herself from her thoughts and lifted herself slowly and with difficulty. She reached a hand to support herself on the icy dome as she reached out and leant forward. Her hand felt warm moments before she collapsed through the illusion.\n\nA scream assaulted her senses, she opened her eyes and was blinded. So much light, she cried out and crawled forward. \n\nThis is it! \n\nShe reached a hand up, it cast a shadow over her eyelids and lessened the pain of the light but that screaming, it continued. She turned her head left and right, where was that person? Nowhere, the sound was everywhere and nowhere. It came from all directions like... it was in her head.\n\nShe crawled another inch, another foot as her hand grew warmer and the screaming, the light - it all grew more intense and finally, finally she touched the Gift and in that moment it all stopped.\n\nThe light, the sound, the warmth, the illusion. It was gone. She opened her eyes and stared out at the tundra, illuminated in all directions around her. She cast no shadow - she cast light and she Knew. She understood now, how to save them all.", "There are no words to describe the feeling of losing the last immeasurable mote of energy. To experience a total numbness, a total lack of existence. I lay there in the snow, surrounded by pure white. White as far as I could see which, at this endlessly sad point, wasn't very far at all. Not being able to experience a response from your extremities is one thing (I had been trying desperately to move a finger, a toe, anything at all) but I was unable to even think anymore. \n\nDoomed, I lay there, ready to succumb to the environment I had so foolishly attempted to cross. Flat on my back, eyes squinted reflexively to shield away from bright, relentless sunlight. I had been warm at one point, tiny trickles of melted snow travelling down my ears and neck to soak into my (not so) waterproof jacket. Now, if I could cry, tears would freeze on my pallid and cold skin.\n\nMy eyes began to fail me. My breathing began to fail itself. I lost hope if, indeed, I had any to begin with.\n\n\"Let go\" I tried to think. I guess my body understood because the sunlight no longer seemed to sear into my eyes. Barely smiling, I was ready to go...\n\nMy body relaxed for one last time--\n\n\"DONNY, STOP MAKING SNOW ANGELS AND GET TO FUCKING WORK!\"" ]	5
	[WP]. You are a middle aged man sitting at a bus stop, you just found out your son died in a violent way, describe the setting from his point of view without directly stating what has happened or his emotional state	[ "The leaves were falling again. It always did at this time of the year, when the winds and the cold would drive most folks shivering into the warmth of their digs. It wasn't too cold this year, I reckoned - perhaps the Hegemon was right this time. Maybe the world was warming up, with all of us going to a horrible, fiery end.\n\nNot that we all didn't, in the end. \n\nThe gentleman in his heavy white coat beside me was looking at me all strange-like, as if I were behaving - acting - wrong, like all good citizens should. Don't make a face, I've been told from the start. Never make yourself stand out from the crowd around you, since to be noticed never ends well. Bite down your lips and move along with the rest of the people on the street, always staring, never looking. Never caring.\n\nAnd when one of them went missing, no one questioned it. We couldn't, since it may have been any of us next. Who wanted to be picked by the Ministry to be sent up North, where (it was whispered) food was so scarce, the new recruits usually became stew? You learned to shut up and perform the daily functions of work, eat, sleep, or you died trying.\n\n\"Attention, citizens. A rise in the Area Stress Level has been recognised. Please stay indoors until further instructions...\"\n\nThe white-coated one was gone, now. As if to fill the void left by the only bright splash of colour, metallic boots clanged up the road, half-run, half-jog. The bus was taking longer than usual today. If John had been here, he would have started cracking jokes in front of the others again.\n\n\"...stay calm and relocate yourself into a shelter until further notice...\"\n\nBeyond the curve of the road were sirens. Closing my eyes, I sank into the bench. The leaves had stopped falling.", "The hard shaped stone structure supported a sole figure between to clear square objects designed to block out the wintry wind. A few tufts of dead leaves swirled about the gutter caught in the never ending drafts that marked the season. The sole figure was a man. He was sporting a growing bald patch on his head, a red and black flannel over-shirt, and a pair of old faded jeans over some worn tan boots. In his hands was some stitched nylon cloth folded neatly into a triangle. The man had just received it along with the words \"Please accept this flag on behalf a grateful nation.\"", "I sit shielded by the top of a bus shelter from the faint pitter-patter of the interminable London drizzle. I have sat at this shelter, at almost precisely this time, for almost every working day of the past decade – and nothing has changed. \n\nI steadily suck a cigarette towards my lips. For ten years this moment of decadence, as I wait for the 29 Bus to bring me back to the comfort of my house, has served to punctuate the end of a dull day fulfilling my grownup obligations. I have sat in this very spot thousands of times in this grateful and lonely vigil, waiting to return to my family. I watch the colour seep from the air as the sun slinks away behind the horizon, somewhere behind the surrounding mountains of concrete. Nothing has changed.\n\nExcept that’s not true. This moment has always been calm, peaceful – a thousand times I have felt the gentle burn on the back of my throat slowly wash away the day’s troubles like a tide. Today, as the cherry is drawn towards my face I feel betrayed. I feel like this reliable friend is conniving with the treacherous sun to suck the light from this historic day, to make it like any other, to deny its significance – even though - even though…\n\nNothing has changed. The 29 scythes towards me through the puddles that have accumulated at the side of the road, its headlights shimmering through the wet air. Staring at the approaching bus I feel suddenly ill. I flick my half-unsmoked cigarette into its path and stand. I walk away from the stop. As I round the corner and catch one last glimpse of my bus stop I realise that, at precisely 4.27pm on this day, October the 3rd 2014, the contentment of this routine forever vanished. Torn from me. \n\nIn this hive metropolis the disruption of a single routine is meaningless. None of the blank faces that pass me, faces grimacing against the rain, immersed in their own unedited routines, notice a man trudging alone, in a soggy suit, down streets that he has passed routinely for the past decade but never trodden with his feet. For them, for London, for the whole fucking world: nothing has changed. \n\nI walk alone through the infant twilight, the faint fuzzy warmth of the dissipated day still clinging to the air like an already fading memory. My chest aches. Something hot runs down my cheek. I’m glad it’s raining. Oh god oh god oh GOD…\n\nThis evening the world is upside down, but the rain still falls to earth, and nothing has changed. \n", "As usual please forgive my crappy english its not my mothertongue.\n\nI sit down. There are a bunch of other people around me. Everyone stares at theyr smartphone not noticing the beauty of the world around them. They dont notice the enournous mountains touching the horizon. they dont give a fuck about the beauty of the river that cuts the landscape in two. The sunlight slowly fades and paints the whole scenery orange and red. I should be amazed. Im not. Far away two lights appear. they get bigger and bigger. these arent the lights im waiting for. the bus arrives. inside of it, more cold faces. no one notices me. the bus drives away no one got off it. i watch him go until the back lights turn into tiny red dots. soon the red dots are gone too. as they vanish a new pair of lights appears. flashing. red and blue. this are the lights im waiting for. i look down at my hands. soaked in blood.", "My wife always sends me updates on how her day has been going, and how our son's day has been, while I wait on the bus to finally get home. Sometimes just a cute text, often times a picture of our little Paul as he gets back from school. Those are my favorite, seeing him standing there with his little Batman lunch bag. He loved that bag, and would bring it anywhere with him. We'd go to the zoo and he'd bring it, even to the movies, despite them not allowing him to bring any food in it. Whenever my wife sent me something about Paul, it involved his Batman lunch box. Yesterday, she sent my a text about how he dropped it and spent nearly half an hour scrubbing dirt and debris off of the Bat logo. Today, she sent me a picture.\n\nAt first glance, the picture just looks like a new car. Maybe a message to me, saying it's about time we upgrade from the old Ford. This car, however, wasn't a very nice car. It was what appeared to be about a five year old truck, but it was abruptly stopped in the middle of the street. Around it were several people. Their faces were barely visible, but those which you could see seemed concerned. Some of these people had their hands cupping their mouths, as if they had just sneezed. There was noticeable shattered glass, and what appeared to be a police officer and ambulance in the background. On the floor, my eyes were caught to two figures; there was a pair of young legs just sticking out from under the car. Just below those legs was a square box.\n\nA lunch box.\n\nA Batman lunch box.\n\nMy bus just got here. I think I should get on it. " ]	5
	[WP] An expensive cryogenic procedure is now possible, allowing people to skip 10, 20, or 50 years into the future.	[ "\"I would travel 10 years in the future so that I could be done university,\" yawns out Ethan.\n\n\"Why would you travel to the future at all? What's wrong with the present? Is this relationship not doing it for you?\" Yasmine prods, putting her hands on her hips.\n\n\"Ah, ummm... Nothing, babe. Cryogenic future jumping has just been introduced to the general population and I thought...\" What Ethan really thought is that Jas had become remarkably clingy for only knowing him a month. \"I thought it might be something I'm asked and I don't want to say the obvious: shit is great right here.\"\n\nJasmine sits on the bed next to Ethan and sighs. She starts to play with his hair. This is the signal that she wants some attention. Ethan just isn't feeling it.\n\n\"Look, Jas... I have lots of homework. Could we leave the cuddling and whatnot to tonight?\"\n\nJust then there's a knock on the dorm room door. Since it's ethan's room he answers it.\n\n\"Marks are up. You're not doing so hot in chem.\" Lance says, looking in and nodding at Jas.\n\n\"But that's supposed to be my best class!\" Ethan yells, throwing a pillow across the room.\n\n\"Look, I'm just the news bearer.\" Lance offers, putting up his hands in defense and ducking away.\n\nEthan closes the door and Jas takes her opportunity to leave so Ethan can study. She knows she is partly the reason for Ethan's sliding marks.\n\nEthan goes online to check his mark right away after saying a brief goodbye to Jas. He is failing chemistry.\n\nThere's another knock on the door. Ethan figures Jas forgot something. He opens the door in a kind of huff and sees a small suited man standing there.\n\n\"Future Cry rep here, sir,\" the man says in a upbeat way, offering his hand.\n\n\"Oh... Hi.\" Ethan says, looking in the hallway to make sure Jas is gone. \"Come in. I'm ready to leave this shit behind.\"\n\nThe small man enters his room and closes the door.\n\n\"And how will you be paying this evening? Do you have your psychiatrist's note ready?\" The small man enquires.\n\nEthan hands the forged note to the man and quickly writes the substantial check, knowing he doesn't have the money.\n\n\"Ready then?\"\n\nThe next thing Ethan remembers is colours. Colours and shapes floating quickly past his eyes. Then he wakes up.\n\nEthan opens his eyes to grey. Nothing but grey.\n\n\"Welcome to debtor's prison, Ethan. Are you ready to work off your time jump?\"", ">“Happy Birthday to you, Happpy Birthday to you..”\n\n\nShe looked out at the kind eyes, soft faces, and smiling grins of her family as they sang her happy birthday. how odd, she thought, that even 75 years later we would still be singing a song from the early centuries. \n\n\nIt was many years later now. It was her 100th birthday in the 22nd century. The old phrase ‘time flies’ came into her mind, for she was only 23 when they came for her. She was the ideal candidate, they told her. what about everything they didn't tell me, she thought to herself. \n\n\nShe smiled out at her family - there were many of them now. Grand children, great grandchildren, and even farther back than that she was sure. She wouldn’t admit, if you’d asked her anyway, how strange a phenomenon it was to look out at this family (her family, her family; she had to keep reminding herself of that). \n\n\nIt had been for many years and days that she reminded herself of this. this was her family. But when she looked at those faces it didn't feel like it. I should have been dead by now. this wasn’t my family, it was someone else’s. it was the family she shouldn’t know, for she should never have met this family. it was the family of her family. or maybe it went back even farther than that.\n\n\nThey had promised her life and happiness. they had promised her a future unlike anything she could imagine. But what had they really given her? It was the question she had asked herself each day since the cold. Goosebumps took to her skin and a shiver sent down her spine - the cold. This was all she knew it as. Although to the rest she was known as something else. To them she was a relic, a piece of time seemingly infinite and defying all logic. At the start she was 1 of 25. now i’m the only one, she thought. \n\n\n“Blow out the candles, auntie,” said the young boy staring up at her. The smile on his face was big. Big and innocent, she thought. She took a deep breath through her lungs, readying herself to blow out the candles. 2164 and were still blowing out candles. how archaic. She watched, solem as ever, as the candles before her blew out one-by-one. just like the others, she thought. She could hear the cheers and congratulations coming from the family in front of her. Shaking away her thoughts she smiled big, in the most grandmother-like way she could muster. She looked down at the young boy next to her. my great, great, great grandson.. or something,i think.\n\n\nToku looked up at her, “Can i cut the cake, Auntie?” \n“Of course, Toku - these hands aren’t as steady as they used to be anyway,” Lenna remarked as she put out her hands for the boy to see. shake them, she told herself, old people are supposed to seem unsteady! It had been for many years that she was pretending to “be old.” bad eyesight, bad hearing, unsteady limbs. yet still i have outlived so many. and i will outlive so many more. \n\n\nLenna watched as the young boy began to cut her birthday cake. He was almost as old as she was when the men with ice came to her.", "When I hear about things like this, I tend to react in the exact same way every single time. I throw money around like a total ass.\nSo here I am, in a strangely metallic office, which I suppose is 'trendy', listening to a manchild tell me how freezers work.\n\n\"Our plans are here for your perusal, Mr. Dedend\" the giant toddler smiles, handing me a clipboard (sooooo futuristic) covered in pie charts and prices.\nI look at him for a moment, with his fresh-from-college grin, his \"messy but neat\" haircut (the bane of any barber), his enthusiastic eyes and a stupid fucking tie and suddenly I know that I have to get away from this generation.\n\nI consult the clipboard, the prices seem exactly as ridiculous as I thought and I ask the besuited baby a question.\n\n\"So, how much is thirty years?\"\n\nThe elderly infant looks at me curiously, I am unsure why.\n\n\"Thirty, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes, thirty years. How much money would it cost me to be frozen for thirty years? Three zero.\" \nMaybe that was a bit much.\n\n\"As our plans show, sir, we offer freezes for ten, twenty or fifty years, sir.\"\n\n\"Yeah, so how much is thirty?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, sir, you appear confused. We cannot freeze you for thirty years.\"\n\nI'm caught off guard by this statement.\n\n\"Well, why the bloody hell not?\"\n\n\"Technology just isn't there yet, sir. If I'm honest.\"", "Marshall Walthers smacked his chauffeur across the face three times -stopping only when he heard a tooth crack to his satisfaction. \"Now perhaps you'll learn,\" he said, smiling slightly as the Filipino man bent over, gripping his aching jaw. Marshall owned 3 Fortune 500 companies and was not about to be late because of incompetence, as he saw it. His coat casually draped cape-like over his shoulders, Marshall strode confidently into the CryoGene Industries glass tower.\n\n\"Good morning, Mr. Walthers,\" came the obsequious greetings from a half-dozen toadies. He flatly ignored them all. The only person whom he honored with a reply was the receptionist at the ice-styled glass desk that looked more like an art installation than anything else. \"Ms. Frost is waiting for you, Mr. Walthers. If you'd care to follow me.\"\n\n\"That would be lovely, my dear. Thank you.\" Perhaps the woman's shapely figure contributed to his willingness to confer his charms. He followed her swaying hips to the glass elevator that deposited them in Rachel Frost's palatial penthouse office. \"Mr. Marshall Walthers,\" the receptionist presented, and then departed back the way she came.\n\n\"Marshall. So good to see you again.\" Rachel was standing beside her desk, the enormous windows creating a picturesque backdrop of sky-tossed clouds behind her.\n\n\"Rachel, my dear. You look lovely as ever.\" The two magnates shook hands and took their seats on either side of Rachel's richly appointed desk.\n\n\"Don't tell me you're here for a hostile takeover. Our stock is doing better than ever. Better than yours, in fact.\" She grinned a too-white smile at him as a challenge.\n\nHe picked up the gauntlet, beaming back at her. \"I have no doubt, although I am keeping several watchful eyes out for opportunities. No, I'm not here as a businessman ...but rather as a customer.\"\n\nShe looked genuinely surprised -not something she permitted herself in her daily business dealings. \"You can't be serious.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, my dear, I am quite, quite serious. I can more than afford the price-tag, you know.\"\n\n\"Of course I know. You and I keep vying for the same slot on the Forbes list -but why would you want to?\" She was genuinely curious.\n\nMarshall studied his folded hands a for a moment, his balding crown glinting in the bright morning sunlight the wall of windows permitted to fill the room. \"I could say it's because it's the one thing I don't have but that would be disingenuous. The truth is, it's strategic.\"\n\nShe leaned forward, her fingers and blood-red nails settling on the desktop like a seer's. \"Now I am curious.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"Let's just say some investments will pay off very nicely in the future and I'd prefer to be around to see it.\"\n\nRachel chuckled and depressed a button beside the phone. \"Coffee,\" was her only order. \"Got a stock tip I should know about?\"\n\n\"Nothing like that, though my portfolio is substantial and I expect to be quite wealthier than ever when I wake up. No, these investments have been purely political. A sure thing, you might say, and I am certain that 50 years from now the business climate will be much more conducive to my... tastes.\"\n\n\"You mean machinations. I'll buy that but really, are you sure 10 years will bring you to a brave new world of corporate supremacy?\" She looked up as a tall man in a white uniform ferried a tray of coffee, creams and sugar to the desk. She dismissed him with a snap of her fingers and a hasty wave of her hand.\n\n\"50.\" He stated it flatly, emotionless, to stress his lack of desire for further badinage.\n\n\"You are serious.\" She taunted. \"You know, once in there's no way out until the time is up.\"\n\n\"I know.\" He smiled wanly.\n\n\"Everyone you know, everyone your age, will all be dead.\"\n\n\"Yes, Rachel. I know.\" He was resolute.\n\n\"...even your wife.\" She poured him a cup of coffee and dropped in his customary four sugar cubes.\n\n\"And here I thought you were only presenting the disadvantages.\" He stirred his coffee.\n\nShe studied him for a moment, weighing his seriousness against what she considered foolhardiness. Yes, this was her business but she herself had no intention of ever using it. She regarded it as something silly only novelty-seekers and dreamers wanted but was more than happy to misrepresent it to those she could fleece. She decided he'd moved into that camp.\n\n\"Very well. I'll make all the arrangements. I suppose you have something for me?\" She rose.\n\nHe followed suit, handing her a cashier's check for 10 million dollars. \"Of course. When eh -when can we begin?\"\n\n\"In a hurry? We can do it right now, if you think your affairs are in order. I do hope you're not running from something, like tax evasion charges or something? Because you know the government has obligated us to rouse you before the time is up if they want to try you for anything.\"\n\n\"I assure you, no crime I have ever hypothetically committed will be interrupting my slumber. And yes, now. Everything is sorted -and so am I.\"\n\nThey continued to exchange pleasantries and meaningless conversation as they rode the lift to the cryonics floor. As they exited the elevator, they nearly tripped over the mop of an underpaid janitor, trying to bring the black-tile floors to the necessary sheen.\n\n\"You stupid fool! Watch where you're mopping!\" Rachel scolded him with a look of utter disgust on her bony face. Marshall looked the man over with disdain. Soiled uniform, greasy hair, ethnic face -three things he could not abide. They walked past him, ignoring his timid reply, and entered the grand sleeping chambers.\n\nThe great hall would have looked more like a morgue were it not for the technological wonderland of readouts and cables adorning each vault. \"Are they all occupied,\" Marshall wondered aloud.\n\n\"Many of them, but hardly all. Next season I'll drop the price a bit once the newness wears off and the media relaxes its fear-mongering. Once they see our vaults continuing to work perfectly, they'll have to eat crow.\" She clacked across the tiles in her tall black pumps like she owned the place -and she did.\n\n\"This is Marshall Walthers,\" she said sternly to a lab-coated redhead in glasses. \"The Marshall Walthers. I want him handled with the utmost care.\"\n\n\"Of course, Ms. Frost.\" The woman replied meekly.\n\n\"No, not 'of course,' as though you'll do the same mediocre job you always do. I mean platinum class all the way.\" Rachel stood statue-still, as though ready to pounce unexpectedly.\n\n\"Y-yes, Ms. Frost, absolutely.\" The cryonic sleep specialist was visibly nervous, the indication for which Rachel had been waiting.\n\n\"Good.\" She turned back to her old colleague and sometime competitor, only to him showing a semi-warm expression. \"Marshall, dear, you can begin any time you like. I'll handle all the paperwork and have everything ready for your signature before you settle in to sleep. Are you absolutely sure you-\"\n\nHe raised a hand. \"Yes, I'm sure. I just want to say that you have been a good friend, if such a thing exists in this world. As a friend in return, I suggest you consider a nap of your own. Things might be a little... difficult in the near future. But when the dust settles, you will find a world much more pliable to our kind of people. Consider it the stock tip of the century.\" He handed his coat to the ginger-haired girl and smiled.\n\nRachel walked away in silence, unsure of quite what to make of their final exchange...\n\nThe process of \"going to sleep\" was not as romantic as the advertising or as futuristic as in the movies. Gentle music played as he exchanged Armani suit for paper gown, Prada shoes for nylon slippers, and laid down on the long slab extending out from his vault. He was given a sedative to make him sleep through the cryogenic process. As his eyes fluttered to a close he spoke the final words he had rehearsed for weeks. \"In the morning, I shall be a new man.\" His grin would remain for five decades.\n\nBLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP\n\nThe lifesign monitors bleeped and flashed violently as the recovery team tried to revive Marshall as med-techs and automated assistants scurried around the revivification table. Great care was taken to start his vital systems without causing him to arrest and the entire process took a painful 11 hours. Although he was brought to consciousness by the end of it, he would remain blind and unable to speak for days after. It wouldn't be until nearly a month had passed before he found himself able to sit in a chair and converse with anyone meaningfully.\n\nMarshall sat in the simple hospital recliner beside his bed as a man in a white coat came into the room. Marhsall noted to himself that styles hadn't really changed much at all and were it not for some rather unfamiliar tech in the room, he might have thought he was still in 2014.\n\n\"Good afternoon, Mr. Walthers. My name is Doctor Gemelen and I'll be overseeing the next stage of your convalescence.\" The dark-haired man extended a hand, which Marshall happily grasped.\n\n\"Did it work? Is it 2064?\" Marshall was hopeful.\n\nThe doctor sat in a chair opposite him and smiled but perhaps a bit too weakly for Marshall's tastes. \"Not quite. The year is 2059. You have been awakened a few years early.\"\n\nMarshall's expression hardened. \"What? Why?! I paid good money for the full 50 years, you quack!\"\n\nThe doctor in no way hid his disapproval of this treatment. \"If you wish to abuse me, I will go.\" He rose.\n\n\"N-no wait, I'm sorry. That -that was unfair. Forgive an old man. I just ..wasn't expecting this.\" Marshall tried to play him for a fool.\n\nThe doctor reluctantly sat down, signalling to Marshall that he was not to be trifled with again. \"You have missed quite a bit while you slept, as you're about to learn. I have prepared an instructional for you.\" He depressed a button in what Marshall had thought was just a wristwatch.\n\n\"An \"instructional?\" What's-\" A hologram sprung to life from seemingly nowhere and Marshall's eyes widened in delight. He watched silently as history replayed before him..." ]	4
	[WP] The main character is a supporting character who follows the "chosen one" through his/her journey.	[ "I had been following Julmus around for a few months, ever since I met him. I called him the Bearer of Justice, for everywhere he went, justice prevailed. He never liked the name, said he wasn't doing it for the glory, but because somebody had to stand up for the people.\n\nWe travelled from village to village with nothing but his sword, the Justice, and two small bags filled with bread and wine. I always carried the bags, but not because he told me to. I volunteered because I was never a good fighter and I wanted to do my part.\n\nThe people were always excited to see us as stories of the great Julmus and his extraordinary feats often travelled faster than we could. The villagers sometimes offered us a place to stay for the night after we had unburdened them from the oppressive Kingsmen, not only as an expression of gratitude but they also loved to hear the stories I told about the adventures we had been through.\n\nAs we finally arrived in the village of Forestfall, the last village on our journey to the Kings Castle, Julmus came to a sudden stop and held up his hand, signalling me to be quiet.\n\n\"They're expecting us,\" he told me, and I had a feeling he was right. There wasn't a single person walking around and everything was eerily quiet. I saw some eyes glaring at us from the windows, as if they were waiting for something to happen.\n\nAll of a sudden, ten Kingsmen ran out from the shadows of the buildings and surrounded us.\n\n\"Are you Julmus?\" shouted one of them, holding his sword up towards me.\n\n\"No, I'm his companion,\" I answered calmly.\n\n\"Where is he?\" the Kingsman asked, all while thrusting his sword towards my neck. Julmus grabbed the Justice and disarmed him in a quick motion.\n\n\"I am Julmus!\" he shouted and took a swing with his sword. Two Kingsmen fell as the remaining ones charged him. He parried their attacks with one hand while striking them with his sword. It was a gory mess, and after nine Kingsmen had fell, Julmus kicked the last man on the ground.\n\n\"Do we let him live?\" he asked me, holding the Justice over his neck.\n\n\"Yes, please, I'll let you go!\" cried the poor man on the ground, begging for mercy.\n\n\"Silence!\" said Julmus, \"You do not have the right to speak right now.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" said the Kingsman, \"Then who did you ask? There is nobody else around.\"\n\n\"Kill him,\" I interrupted, and Julmus beheaded him with a single blow. We looked around and saw villagers slowly coming outside to praise us. They started cheering, \"Julmus, Julmus\". He raised his sword in appreciation and let out a fierce roar.\n\n\"We have to keep moving,\" Julmus told me, \"for we are close now.\"\n\nI took our bags and we started walking towards the Kings Forest when a boy ran up to us.\n\n\"Julmus, can I come with you to help you carry your bags?\" the young man asked.\n\n\"I am not Julmus,\" I told the boy and saw his face morph in confusion, \"but don't worry, I'll carry his bags.\"\n\n__________________________________________\n\n\n\nOkay, I just wanted to say, I'm kind of new to this writing thing and if anyone takes the time to actually read my short story - don't hesitate to leave any feedback please. Tell me if you found it good or if there was anything wrong with it, I'd love to hear your opinions!\n\nI'm myself a little confused about the ending, I'm not sure if it's obvious enough what I was going for or not.", "The 40th day of our journey\n\nToday Illian insisted we go out of our way to help some villagers rid their lands of an ogre. We tracked it to its cave, where he insisted that he had to defeat it single-handedly. Ogres are rather hardy creatures. It took him three hours. If we had all attacked, we’d have killed it in ten minutes at most. The whole day was wasted. Even the wizard Baltassar agrees, though he said nothing. I spent my evening cleaning ogre blood and guts from Illian’s sword. \n\nThe 41st day of our journey\n\nWe found a magical grove where the last of the dawn fairies was waiting for us, or rather, for Illian. She led him away deeper into the grove and he did not return until darkness had fallen. He wouldn’t tell us what had happened, only that now he now knew what he had to do. Still not much distance covered today. At this rate we will never reach the Tarvallian Fields in time. \n\nThe 45th day of our journey\n\nFinally, today we made progress! We’ve stopped to rest and gather provisions in a small town. I plucked up the courage to speak to the innkeeper’s beautiful daughter Lysanda. I think she was enjoying my company until Illian came over. He introduced himself as the Chosen One and after that I may as well have been part of the wall. \n\nThe 51st day of our journey\n\nWe reached the tunnels of the Blood River. Illian declared that he had to defeat the dark wizard who resides here alone. We spent the day lingering about. I collected mushrooms, set up camp, started the fire. Illian still hasn’t returned. Falstan had some funny jokes today. What is the difference between a dragon and a beautiful maiden? Knights do not run from the dragon. We were roaring with laughter. \n\nThe 52nd day of our journey\n\nI found Illian near our campsite, bloodied and bruised. Baltassar did some spells and he is now better. When I was sick Baltassar did nothing. Illian spent the rest of the day brooding and reading the prophecy scrolls. Another one of Falstan’s jokes: Why did the troll jump in the river? It wanted a drink. " ]	2
	[WP] You're a timecop, having chased a serial killer throughout history. He started with Hitler and other mass murderers, but now, after a decade of chasing, you've finally caught up to him when he's about to kill the child who will grow up to cure cancer.	[ "It was me. I was the monster. Only, it was different. \n\nI am Richard K. Blake, of the Citystate 3 temporal police force, and this situation was not something I had expected. \n\n\"Blake, I don't want to have to kill you again. It really fucks with my head. I'm not a savage, you know. I'm just from a world that's a little different.\" It was my own face, my own voice, lying to me. \n\n\"You can't do something like this. This man invented the cure for cancer thirty years ago.\"\n\n\"You never did violate the statute on travel into the future, did you? That's what is different about our worlds, isn't it? If you had, you'd know what happens in the long run. It doesn't cure it for long. Only suppresses it. Then, it mutates, and becomes contagious. This is the only way to be sure.\"\n\n\"You've gone completely psychotic. You can't go altering the fabric of time and space for your own benefit.\"\n\n\"I'm not. One day, you'll understand. Then again, maybe you won't.\" He drew down on me, but I was quicker. ", "\"Don't you understand? If his death doesn't come, millions of others will. But they won't be this neat.\" \n\n\nI always did feel a bit morally conflicted about chasing this Time Perp, after all it seemed that his intentions were noble, and well thought out. He avoided all paradoxes, wormholes, multiverse chasms, and other messy bits of time travel in order to create an objectively better future.\n\n\nEven though the man sitting next to me had feathery, disheveled hair and several days of salt and pepper stubble, he certainly knew what he was doing. No one knew his real name, but in our universe's timeline we called him Hieronymus. Rather, he called himself that. In his mind, and increasingly in others', he was doing God's work. \n\n\nThanks to him, this ever-astonishingly small slice of the multiverse was better off than ours. His target was a small boy on the playground. Purportedly, he would discover the cure for cancer.\n\n\n Not that it mattered. As a member of the Chrono Task Force I had to stop all unauthorized users of time travel. \n\n\nHe shifted closer to me on the park bench that we now shared. He pointed to a small child hanging from the monkey bars kicking at his little brother. A look of intensity, no, urgency accompanied what was coming out of his mouth. \n\n\n\"National Honors Society. Harvard Undergrad, class of 2027. He'll major in biomedical engineering, and immediately be granted a post-doc fellowship at the Rockefeller Institute for his outstanding research on cell biology. Here he'll discover how to turn on and off telomeres with just on a pill. A button that prevents 1/3 of all deaths.\" His tongue flicked out of his mouth once or twice like a snake tasting the air.\n\n\n\"Balance. He'll never understand balance.\" The child was now running on top of the monkey bars victoriously, after kicking off his little brother. \"Sure, a life lost ten years early is a tragedy. But to extend life into immortality? An atrocity.\" \n\n\n\nI inched away, and began to unwrap my lunch. On my way to to this park, I stopped off at a corner store and got a tuna fish sandwich. Real tuna, none of that plant-based crap we have to eat after mercury levels in the sea reached criticality. \n\n\n\"Well,\" I began \"That doesn't sound incredibly tragic. Even in our time, people are still dying from cancer. Obviously he couldn't have done that much work?\"\n\nI took a bite of my sandwich. It has that tang. \n\nThe grip of my gun burnt my finger tips as I waved pass it. The mid afternoon sun was beating down.\n\n\"That's great. Really FUCKING great. Haven't you noticed what absolute shit our society is delving into? Overpopulated cities are sprawling into the countryside. Most of our food comes from labs. 99% of the animals that this child prodigy is going to learn about in school will be dead. The only reason his cure isn't spread yet is because -- \" \n\n\nI was done eating, and wanted to clock out early today. A new game for the xBox Unity was being released, and I'd be damned if I missed it because of the misguided ramblings of this perp. \n\n\nSo I shot him. \n\n\nNot before freezing time, so that everyone can resume their days.\n\n\n\nTagged and bagged I believe they said back when we still fought wars. Well, now tagged and meticulously decomposed by CTF commissioned nanobots. I gave the harbinger of doom one last look. He was a toe-headed boy. Happy, healthy. I felt like I've done my job today. I waited until the nanobots scrubbed every last bit of gore off, resumed time, tossed the wrapper of my sandwich on the ground (not that littering will make any difference in 20 years), and slapped my badge to return home. " ]	2
	[WP] Mythical creatures have started appearing around the world, but they lack the majesty of their story counterparts, and are ruining the ecosystems they enter. You are a mythical rights activist fighting against "myth culling" laws.	[ "The men that held back the crowd were a mixture of army reserve from this world and officers from Centauri’s dimensional patrol. They were all clearly uncomfortable standing between a mob and a giant lizard, but the men from Centauri looked like they felt far more prepared to handle the situation. These officers held simple metal-like rods that seemed almost nonthreatening next to the army’s security shields and guns. I knew they still had every reason to feel complete confidence amongst this world’s inhabitants. They were endowed with mental abilities that most of us could only dream of.\n \nThe beast gave a throaty challenge that was more of a deep rumbling moan than a roar as it continued waddling towards the Yellowstone caldera. It had the coloring of light gray ash one would see with the remains of a dead camp fire. Many people from our world called these creatures dragons. I doubted that the people of Centauri identified them with that term but they had never corrected us. To their more refined culture, we were bumbling invaders who were slightly barbaric in nature. With that said, they were not forth-coming about life on the other side of the dimensional veil. \n \nCentauri was not even the true name of their home world, that too was denied to us. Most of Earth’s leading government officials involved with our new visitors had agreed upon Centauri, being the name of our dimension’s closest cluster of stars to the sun, and their dimension being the closest one to ours that we knew of. It almost overlapped our own, and it seemed that anything living on the Centaurian side (with the will to do so) could now pass through the veil. The dragon clearly had had the will to push itself through and now was in a state of confusion. \n \nThe men did not allow the crowd to move forward as the dragon relocated away from the commotion we were creating. It lumbered towards an active geyser and stuck its head inside the spray. After adding more deep grumbling noises, it moved its whole body across the opening of the geyser and settled itself down, head resting on massive claws. It belched flame tendrils which caught on a close clump of grass but made no move to evacuate as more of the plant-covered area caught fire. The volume of conversation rose among the crowd as we watched. The patch was too secluded from others to cause much worry, but anxious questions flowed from the watchers. What else could it do? And where was it going?", "I hurried across the parking lot and stopped when I saw the protesters. They must have been here for hours already, though the sun was only barely over the horizon. Slogans ranging from “IRON IS TORTURE” and “SAVE THE UNICORNS” were shaken by howling humans in costumes. One of them had a genuine-looking winged horse primary feather sticking up from a headband. The feather was tattered and as long as my arm, its silver-on-white banding dulled by the death of its original owner. The hypocrisy turned my stomach, and I clutched my satchel to my chest, tucked my shoulder, and pushed past them without meeting any eyes. \n\nTheir hostile body language made it clear they wanted to stop me, but they let me pass. Ever since the first Fairy Incursion, people have begun re-learning the old traditions, sometimes the hard way. They were allowed their protest. But they could not impede guests of this place. I was on their side, somewhat, but they wouldn’t have believed me. \n\nOnce I was past the building’s security checkpoint, my guide showed me to a small room. “The hosts of this place offer their Hospitality,” the guide told me quietly, taking up a post near the door. The room was better suited to a family dining room than a corporate office, with a large wooden table against the wall. The 'Hospitality' on offer consisted of a box of glazed donuts, a carafe of coffee, and for those in a hurry, a cheese and cracker tray. \n\nAs much as I wanted to take my time, I stacked a cracker with a slice of orange cheese food product and a chunk of pepperoni, then shoved it in my mouth, chewing rapidly. The cracker would count as bread and salt, it would have been enough on its own, but I was hungry. A smidge of cheese and meat might tide me over to lunch. I delayed a moment to dispense a few mouthfuls of coffee into one of the paper cups, slugging it down like a shot. \n\nThe guide had waited patiently, nodding as I returned. Some people took advantage of Hospitality rooms, but I’d prefer to just get to business. I was a guest here now, with all the rights and privileges that meant. \n\n----- \n\nAfter a quick round of introductions in the boardroom, I began the presentation. \n\nThe first few slides were a review of the company’s problem, the one they’d hired me to fix. I showed them a map of the region with a zone highlighted in pale purple. “As you know, this Fairy Forest replaced a neighborhood called Bluebird Estates a little over one month ago. The authorities managed to extract the majority of the humans trapped by this Incursion, the existing infrastructure remains intact, but your property remains inoperable. \n\n“In my initial assessment, I determined that this new Forest is ruled by one Queen Allwyn.” The following slide showed a brief pencil sketch of the queen—the higher-class fairies hate having their photos taken, considering it the theft and capturing of light, forcing it into a static image. Art, however, is another matter. \n\n“To briefly review our previous meeting, Allwyn descends from the Irish Fair Folk, but her flavor is mischief rather than outright hostility.” She’d seemed disappointed that I understood the rules for dealing with fairies, but once I established my credentials, she seemed pleased that I was her negotiator. \n\n“In the past weeks, this has become clear, especially as the refugees have not suffered ill effects. The City is denying petitions to Raze the Forest, and the Perimeter Zone is being constructed as we speak.” I heard a heavy sigh from somewhere in the room. The ideal situation for this company and many others was getting rid of the Fairies and their Forest entirely. \n\n“With that established, I opened negotiations with Allwyn on your behalf.” The following screen listed off the company’s requests. “First, you requested that your equipment be allowed to function when it crosses through her territory, and the information carried by your cables be unaltered both entering and leaving. This is something she is willing to allow for a modest fee.” There was some rumbling in the room as the company’s leaders shifted and made soft, irritated noises. I could understand their discontent, but continued. \n\n“I will discuss her counter-requests momentarily. Second, you wish access to your cables where they cross through her territory, for maintenance and repairs as necessary. This one is trickier, but she seems amenable to working out a deal. \n\n“And third, the restoration of your field technician, Henry Connor, and his vehicle, equipment, and effects.” I flicked to a slide of the technician, a smiling, stout fellow standing in front of a blank blue background. They had not provided this image, I managed to get it from the Tech of the Month wall. This was the important one to me. The company was primarily concerned with saving the company from the Fairies. I was interested in saving the people. \n\n“I have some good news here; Mr. Connor’s case is soon to be resolved, he will be released, sanity and equipment intact, on August 28th, the fortieth day following the Incursion, or approximately eight days from now. Queen Allwyn has agreed to this as a show of good faith; the remaining inhabitants of Bluebird Estates will also be permitted to leave with what belongings they can carry or carry in their vehicles, on that same date.” \n\nThat resulted in a more pleased rumble from my audience. I held in a sigh and turned to the Queen’s demands. \n\n“Now we move on to Queen Allwyn’s price for permitting access through her territory. She requests a large screen television or projector set and screen, and furniture appropriate for a modern ‘home theater.’” My slide showed a photograph of what seemed to be a natural cave; it had been part of Bluebird Elementary’s auditorium. \n\nLuckily, school had not been in session when the Fairies took over. Getting unattended children out of their hands was difficult. I followed this with a photograph that showed the same cave, but with a ghostly illusion of a giant television, a sofa, and speakers superimposed over it. Glamour does not show up well on film. Perhaps that is why they do not want photographs of themselves. \n\n“She will be negotiating separately with the power company and other utilities, but it is within her abilities to provide the power source for this equipment as necessary. She also requests the full premium cable package, all channels, movies on-demand, and the works, plus the highest-speed internet you offer. She said she will be obtaining her computer equipment elsewhere.” \n\nI could see some of the company’s brass exchange incredulous looks. \n\n“And as far as network maintenance …” I paused. “Her request there is that technicians bring her an offering every visit, including the initial service call to install and activate her service. Her current request stands at a half-gallon of fresh, unpasteurized milk, a full loaf of bread—uncut, home-baked, whole-wheat—and a box of Orville Redenbacher’s extra-buttery Microwave Popcorn.” \n" ]	2
	[WP] The clock stops ticking	[ " The clock ticked with more persistence than it had ever done before. Each tick was a steady reminder of the amount of sleep I was losing. Blaming the clock for my recent case of insomnia would be an excuse. He was the reason for my sleepless nights. The reason that I couldn’t sleep in the bed we had shared for so many nights. The same bed that I hadn’t slept for weeks. I laid on the couch wondering where he had gone, who he was with, why did he leave. All he had left me was a one sentence note that read “I can’t do this anymore.” \n\nThe clock continued to drone on and on, while the thoughts of that damned note consumed me. I finally chose to give up on the sleep that had forsaken me. I sat up and glanced around the room. “Screw it” I thought as I grabbed the T.V. remote, but it didn’t work. I walked Toward the T.V. and pressed the power button. It didn’t turn on. It was plugged in. That meant one thing. No power. The ticking of that pestiferous clock echoed throughout my head, as glanced up at it to check the time. 11:34. It had to been that later than that, I thought to myself, because I laid down well after midnight. Just as I finished that thought the ticking stopped. It finally stopped. \n\nI planted my head down on the pillow and closed my eyes. Slowly drifting off, and it started again. This time it was louder, faster, and then it let six ticks off back to back three times in a row. Now there was an eerie silence that enveloped the entirety of my house. I became paralyzed with terror. Not because the ticks came from my clock, but because they came from my bedroom. After what seemed like hours of silence three slow knocks bellowed from my room. \n\nTears had begun to stream from my face as I slowly walked up the stairs. I tried with of my being not to let a single step creak, but I failed miserably. The door was cracked ever so slightly, just enough to distinguish that the light was on. Two more knocks came from within the place that I had quarantined myself from. My hands trembled as I clutched the cold handle of the door. It let out a quiet screech. I peered inside, but I didn’t see anything but an empty bed. I cautiously creeped inside, there wasn’t anyone or anything in sight. The room was just as I had left it. Cold and lifeless. Just as I was getting ready to leave then the ticking began again. \n\t\nIt sounded like metal on glass. The noise was coming from the mirror. I walked over to the mirror, and stared into it. Tears ran down my cheeks as I stood lifeless. My reflection smiled at me while tapping at the mirror with a butcher knife, and the letter he had left me with in the other. I saw something behind her shutter on the bed. It was him. The one I shared that very bed with. His hands and legs where bound together with duct tape. I looked back my reflection and she winked at me. \n(edit) this is my first post... ever.\n", "Big Ben's brittle bones couldn't bear the rhythmic beating it brought. Ticking became tedious and tiring, and telling time a torture. Rust retouched the wretched beast to the point where regurgitating that rotten racket to remind others of what rehearsed ritual they should repeat was met with resistance. \"The days are done, I did my deed, I dream of death, and I now decide to dance with the devil.\" The day the clock stops ticking will be the death of expectations.", "Lucas studied the cars as they sat motionless out his office window on the street below. He glanced back at his clock resting upon his desk angled perfectly with the picture frame. His eyes snapped towards his co-workers, as still as the image of his wife and kid. He stood up in a panic. He bolted over to Daryl. Still as a statue. Lucas began muttering to himself. “Wake up. Wake up god damn it.” He grabbed onto Daryl’s wide shoulders and began to shake him. He wouldn’t budge. Not even a flinch. Lucas clenched his fists and began to scream. The echo of the world’s silence pierced his ears. Lucas covered his ears with his hands and fell to his knees. He couldn’t take the silence. I must be dreaming he thought to himself. Grabbing onto a chunk of skin between his thumb and index finger, his forearm began to swell. Sprinting down the stairs to try and get some fresh air, Lucas shoved the fire escape door open. He took a deep breath. It didn’t appear to help. It all began to sink in, but he wasn’t confused. He understood. He hadn’t appreciated the time he was given. Maybe if he had he thought, I wouldn’t be stuck. His clock had run out.", "\"You have a meeting in ten minutes, sir.\"\n\n\"You think I don't know that!? I need to find my folder! Where the hell is it, Heather?\"\n\n\"I . . . um . . . I- I think it's in the third drawer of your desk, Mr. Blanch.\"\n\nAfter rummaging around the third drawer, the CFO of Obelisk, Inc. grabbed the manilla folder with a big red \"CONFIDENTIAL\" stamped on the front and stormed off towards the conference room.\n\n\"Ah, at last. Thank you for joining us, Mr. Blanch,\" spouted Ms. Rafters, the President of Obelisk. \"Now, let's begin. As you all know, these past few month- \"\n\nKNOCK KNOCK\n\n\"This is a private meeting, get the fuc-\"\n\nBefore Rafters can finish yelling, the door flies open, revealing the CFO's secretary.\n\n\"Heather, what the hell is going on! Get out of here this instant!\" screeches Mr. Blanch. \n\n\"Sir, it's urgent.\"\n\n\"I don't care. This meeting is more important! You know that!\"\n\n\"Rick! This is more urgent! It's about your daughter! . . . sir.\"\n\n\"God dammit. I'm sorry gentlemen. If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back.\"\n\nRick Blanch charges down the hallway, already out of patience. Grumbling, he ignores Heather, who stumbles trying to keep up.\n\n\"Hello? Tracey? This better be damned important. I swear if- \"\n\n\"Hello, Mr. Blanch,\" a calm, male voice says. \"We have your daughter in captivity. We want $10 million dollars, cash. You will bring the money to-\"\n\n\"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not giving you scumbags any money! No go away, you prick!\" yells Rick as he slams the phone down.\n\nTwo seconds later, the phone is ringing again. \"Oh, fuck you! It better not be the same assholes.\"\n\n\"MMmmMmm!\"\n\nRick's face goes pale. \"Ho-honey, Tracey, is- is that you?\"\n\n\"As I said, Mr. Blanch, we have your daughter. Now, as I ws saying before, we want $15 million dollars-\"\n\n\"Fifteen?! You said ten before!\"\n\n\"Ah, so you were listening. Good. Except then you hung up, raising our price. $15 million dollars. Cash. Now before you cost yourself more money, let me give you more details. You will bring the money to 10th and Fairview. There is an alley just north of the intersection. There, you will find a dumpster. That is your drop-off point. If you contact the police, she will be punished-\"\n\n\"YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!\"\n\n\"That is entirely up to you, Mr. Blanch. I'd also like to clarify that I do not mean killed. We will punish her, but we will not kill her. Well, unless you don't bring us what we want, of course. You have until 11:59 PM on Wednesday night. That gives you five days to gather the money, which I feel is more than sufficient to meet your needs. At the chime of midnight, Thursday morning, the deal is off.\"\n\n\"Daddy! Please! Just give them the money!\"\n\n\"Tracey!?\"\n\nClick\n\n---\n\nWednesday, April 26th, 11:30 PM\n\nMr. Blanch paces in the foyer while Ms. Blanch sits on the exquisitely tiled floor, weeping.\n\n\"Just give them the money, Rick! We have it all here! What are you waiting for, she's your fucking daughter!\"\n\n\"Just shut up! I'm thinking,\" he starts. After a few moments, \"What if- what if it's a bluff? What if it's just some girl that sounds like Tracey? Or what if they let her go already?\"\n\n\"Tracey's missing, Rick!\"\n\nMr. Blanch sighs as he combs his fingers through his dark hair. \"Why would they kill her though? You think they'd commit murder on an innocent girl? She hasn't done anything to them.\"\n\nThrough inconsistent sobs, Ms. Blanch begs, \"Rick, please.\" After sniffling and wiping away the tears, \"I know you've worked hard for all the money, Rick. But you've also worked hard to raise Tracey. Aren't you willing to sacrifice the money for your own daughter?\"\n\nBefore Mr. Blanch can reply to the broken woman, the television in the neighboring room flickers on with a screeching noise. The two run towards the embellished lounge, only to see on the screen a man sitting on a chair, one leg crossed over the other, staring directly at the camera.\n\n\"Hello, Mr. Blanch. Ms. Blanch - it is still Blanch, right? - It's nice of you both to join us tonight. Well, actually not really. In fact, I'm quite disappointed. It's ohh,\" the man glaces down at his watch, \"11:49 now. I take it you're not showing up. Ughh. You see, this is one reason I didn't want to choose you, Mr. Blanch: I knew you wouldn't be willing to part with your money. Lewis over here thought otherwise,\" he says as he bobs his head to the left, \"but that doesn't matter; you have the money, so we all chose you. And now it's clear that you didn't choose her.\"\n\nThe camera then panned to the left, where a man was standing next to a dirty teenager, sitting with her tattered dress sprawled on the ground, hands tied around the pole behind her.\n\nThe Blanchs gasped.\n\n\"Now, I know you're probably yelling at me and whatnot right now, but I can't see or hear you - though, I do know you're both there. Anyway, on with the show! . . . I'm not sure why you chose the money, but the fact is, you did. How can you live with yourself knowing you could have saved her? Ohh. Before you get panties in a hissy, she is still alive. It's what, 11:58 now. But from what I'm told, nobody has come even remotely close to the drop-off. What a shame. Ahh, 11:59. You should probably say your good-byes now. Take off her gag, Lewis.\"\n\n\"Well that was heart-felt. Fifteen seconds left. Rick - may I call you Rick? I feel like we'll be very close very soon - Rick, you disappoint me.\"\n\nBONG, BONG, BONG . . . \n\n\"Midnight. Well Rick, it appears as if your time is up.\"\n\nThe man holds up a shotgun, and without hesitation, a thunderous clap devours the whimpering girl.\n\nMs. Blanch falls to her knees, wailing.\n\nRick Blanch just stands there, the shotgun blast echoing in his head, louder than the grandfather clock beside him. BANG! BANG! BANG! The clock stopped ticking, it had been replaced.\n\nEDIT: Changed a few words and fixed a few errors.", "Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick. \nI look up to the clock in my cubicle \nMy sleepy haze is a little less thick \nAs I stare at the second hand that appears unmovable \n\nNo one notices the change but me \nAnd after ten minutes of fiddling with the clock \nMy coworkers begin to plea \nIt's working fine - are you feeling okay? Need a walk? \n\nI leave in a huff and blame it on a migraine \nThen rush so fast to the parking lot I nearly fall \nHalfway home I swerve across three lanes \nWhen I see that my car's clock hasn't changed at all \n\nThe same case at home, from alarm clock to coffee machine \nEvery time-keeper is halted in place \nI pace for hours and wonder about what it could mean \nAm I immortal? Or a complete mental case? \n\nThat first night I decided that a scientific test \nWas the best way to get to the truth \nAn idea that, any other day, I'd fervently protest \nI bid my beard goodbye for the sake of sooth \n\nTwo weeks later my girlfriend remarked \n\"I feel like a pedophile when you're clean-shaven\" \nLittle did she know that I'd embarked \nOn a stand-still journey with eternity as my haven \n\nWith every day I became more certain \nThat my suspicions were no delusion \nI'd done it somehow, pulled back the curtain \nRevealed time to be an illusion \n\nCruel affliction or cosmic joke \nWhatever time's passage represents \nIt's clearly meant for other folk \nWith less auspicious intents \n\nAt first I was convinced that two things were my top priority \nGive to science and cherish those that I love \nBut now such sentiments don't seem to befit a being of my authority \nAnd anyone I told I'd never be free of \n\nScience can keep working on the fountain of youth \nI'm not interested quite yet in sharing my aberration \nAnd why hang onto family and friends \nWhen I get lonely I'll replace them with the next generation\n \nI never knew that destiny would also feel like liberation \nI just cut all ties; walked out amidst collective shock \nThe travel agent asks why - \"because it's a celebration\" \nThen, behind me, I hear a deafening sound - \"tick, tock\" \n \nI whisper \"what's that....?\" as my face takes on a ghostly pall \nThe agent frowns when she sees that I'm serious \n\"Don't be silly - it's the clock behind you, right there on the wall!\" \nShe says with a wave that is both exasperated and imperious \n\nAbruptly she stops preparing forms \nShe's staring directly at my face \n\"What?!\" I shout as her coworkers swarm \nAnd she opens her makeup case \n\nShe struggles to unclasp a compact \nThat falls open in time for me to peer \nAt my hand reaching up to scratch \nA full and quickly-growing white beard \n\nMy stomach forms a cold, tight knot \nI have to get out of this place \nI force my stiff joints from my spot \nAnd launch myself out the door using the desk as a brace \n\nI think people are screaming as I veer \nAnd collapse halfway down the block \nBut all I hear is what was a souvenir \nMy wristwatch bellowing \"tick, tock\". ", "The clock stopped ticking.\n\n\"Goddamnit,\" I mutter as I hustle over to the frozen hands. With a screwdriver, I tinker around its insides a little until it begins to move again. I move the hands into the correct position and continued on my way.\n\nIt was a family heirloom, sure, but it was getting pretty old. Sadly, it was time to go digital. " ]	6
	[WP] The spirit of Santa possesses one individual every year on Christmas to carry out his duties. This year, it's you.	[ "I was merely browsing /r/writingprompts when i felt a strange warmth came over me. I looked up from my laptop and come to see a hefty old man in a red suit. I instantly know who its supposed to be but I back away quickly dropping my laptop in the process. He puts his hands up and says,\" Dude. Dude. Chill I'm santa clause!\"\n\n\"Bull shit. Get the fuck outta my house before I call the cops!\" I yell. Before I say anything else he cuts me off.\n\n\"You scratched the side door of your grandpa's car. Your favorite color is blue. Your getting your mom a trip to the next 49er game, and your reddit username is foamy117.\" My jaw dropped and with a skeptical tone i asked,\" Wait if your Santa Clause then does that mean tha-\"\n\n\"Look lets not get caught up in that damn mess. I know it sounds cliche but I need your help to carry out christmas this year.\"\n\n\"Wait... what? Why are you here and why do you speak like a normal person,\" I asked. He began to pull at his beard that was white as snow replying\n\n\"Remember...'he sees you when your sleeping, he knows when your awake'. I know how to talk in a way that makes you feel comfortable. Also what I need you to do is let me inhibit your body to go all around the world to give out presents and christmas cheer. I randomly choose someone from the nice list to help me and this year it's your turn.\"\n\n\"Whoa whoa whoa why do you need to get inside me to get Christmas done?\" I questioned. \n\n\"Think of it like cutting the work load in half. I'm too old and I figured out its easier to use a younger body to help me get the whole thing done. Think of it like fusing your body with my spirit.\"\n\n\"Well how would this even work\"\n\n\"Let me worry about that,\" and without another word he changed into gold dust like cloud surrounding me then vanish. I tried to gasp but my body wouldn't respond. I immediately felt energized, happy, and light. It was like looking at my body through a movie screen. My body walked to my mirror and I saw myself in Santa's suit. My hair was white as snow and my eyes the color of silver. I spoke even though I wasn't the one speaking. \" Okay now that I'm in your body its time to get moving we only have one night.\" I grinned and jumped out my window. Now due to certain contracts that Santa forced me to sign I am not permitted to divulge the details of our holly jolly escapade, but I can tell you about after. So tired after the nights trip that I only recall passing out on my bed. I woke up in my room in the morning to see a brand new laptop with a letter on top of it. I reached for the letter but I felt a pain course through out my body the moment I moved. I finally managed to open the letter to read.\n\"Dear Foamy,\n I appreciate your help with christmas so i got you a new laptop. Also you kinda broke you old one when i scared you. You may feel a slight pain when you wake up. Its normal and you will stop being sore in a couple weeks. Take it easy for a little bit ya know. You went and delivered presents to the entire world and I you did a great job. Oh and since you like reddit so much i gave you some gold as well. Make sure to be nice all year and have a merry christmas. \n Sincerely, Santa\"\n\nThat is how I became santa, got physically wrecked, and got reddit gold all in one night. ", "After tying up Thomas I went to the kitchen and got myself a snack.\n\nHis fridge didn’t have much – mostly beer and some leftover takeout – but in one corner I found a fruitcake from Walmart, dull brown and crumbling. I cut myself a slice. The rope I’d used was strong and the knots were tight, so I took my time about it. \n\nIt took him three bites to come to. Fucking kids don’t stay down long – hence the rope. Funny what you learn in one day. \n\n“You know, usually you put out milk and cookies,” I said. Conversationally. No sense being mean about the whole thing. “On Christmas, you know? It’s in the spirit of things.”\n\nNo answer. That was another thing they did: pretend to be unconscious. I was sitting with my back to him, so he couldn’t see my face, and I couldn’t see his, but I knew all the same. Perks of the job.\n\n“You’re not a screamer.” Still the closed eyes, the limp body. “The screamers go the fastest, but you? Got some strength of character right there. That’s good. You’ll last longer.” \n\nHe didn’t say anything, couldn’t, not with the gag in his mouth. But he was listening now. \n\n“So – introductions,” I said. “You’re Thomas, Tommy-boy to your friends. Seventeen and eight months, right? You like sports, videogames, and shitty nicknames. I’m Daniel. I’m thirty-eight and six months. I like stamps, my wife, and the three fish I keep in my aquarium. \n\n“We’re pretty typical people, you and I. Run of the mill, wouldn’t hurt a fly. Don’t you think so? Am I right?” \n\nHe kept quiet. I was getting pretty irritated by this point, so with one hand I forked a chunk of fruitcake and with the other I – twisted – and his eyelids sprang open a little wider than was healthy for the average human being.\n\n“I don’t have to turn around, Thomas. I can see you just fine. Am I right?”\n\nHe kept still a little longer, from shock more than anything else, and then nodded. \n\n“Good. Good boy. You ever heard of Krampus?” I took a bite of the cake and chewed. His eyes were beginning to water. \n\n“German fellow. Old Christmas legend. No? What do you kids learn these days? Never mind.\n\n“So the story goes, right? Every Christmas day, Saint Nicholas goes around and gives out gifts to all the little children in the world. Every year he does this. Then, somewhere along the line, some English guy decides, hey, let’s make him a fat Dutch guy and give him reindeers! Call him Father Christmas. Santa Claus.”\n\nThomas was beginning to struggle. I’d tied him so he could see all the knots I’d made, with his hands in front. It seemed fairer that way.\n\n“It didn’t take long. One day everybody knew who Santa Claus was. And Saint Nicholas? Well, he sort of wasn’t anymore. That’s how belief works. Get enough people to think something and it changes the reality of what is.\n\n“But Nick had a friend – his name was Krampus. Two sides of the same coin. Nicholas gave presents to the good kids, and Krampus… disciplined the ones who misbehaved. Gave them – hey, you okay back there?”\n\nHe’d gotten one knot loose. Most of the kids hadn’t gotten that far. He was a fighter, this one.\n\n“I’m getting to it. Gave them coal. Took them away,” I said. “All made up, of course. So you’re thinking, this is crazy, right? Presents don’t come from a fat fuck in a chimney? No, you’re right. They come from Walmart, like your piece-of-shit fruitcake. People make presents. People,” I continued, “have been making presents for the last hundred years! And you lot didn’t need Father Christmas anymore, did you?\n\n“So he went away,” I finished. “He’s not here anymore. And now Krampus is all that’s left.”\n\nTwo knots. Time to finish up.\n\n“So there’s a story, huh? Here’s another one. Last night you and your friends snuck into the vet’s house across the street. When he found you and tried to call the police you beat his brains out.” Pause. “Did it feel good, Tommy? His blood over your shoes? Teeth all over the carpet? Feel like a man?” More struggling, faster now. I love that. What kids don’t have nowadays is a real sense of urgency.\n\n“Nah. You’re still a kid,” I said. “A murderer. Worse. An asshole.”\n\nThree knots. He wasn’t even pretending to listen. Little fuck.\n\n“Hey, Tommy.” I put the fruitcake aside. Quarter of a slice left. “Do you believe any of this shit I just said?” I didn’t need an answer. Of course he didn’t. They never did.\n\nSo I got up and turned around.\n\nThat was when the screaming started.", "\"You're not Santa,\" the kid in the turqoise pajama hoodie said, clinging to his teddy bear, watching wide-eyed as I knelt by the tree and stuck my hand into the giant sack.\n\n\"That's what I thought,\" I replied. There! The small box: which I should know nothing about. For the kid I did not know. \n\nThe possession was strange. I was still me, just with instincts that were not \"normal\". I just knew this was the right present for this kid. I knew this kid was \"good\"- a smart ass, but good. And I knew this is the tree this toy belonged to. Just as I knew countless other toys belonged to each of countless other trees this night. I still did not understand why I was chosen. I still did not understand that out of millions of people, I could be Santa's vessel. I did not care about kids, or about holidays, or about festivities in general. \n\n\"Santa is meant to be a fat man, with a big beard!\" The kid knew his shit, I had to give him that.\n\n\"Yes, and?\" I enquired, reaching again for another present. There is another kid in this house. Another thing I just knew.\n\n\"You are not fat! And you are a lady!\" Long time since I'd been called a lady. Even the elves insisted on \"missus\", although they did not even pretend it was meant to mean something nice. Kudos to the kid for not calling me fat.\n\n\"You are clearly a genius,\" I replied, placing the larger, more pinkly-wrapped present under the tree. \"Right, kid! Glad to meet you. Time to go.\"\n\n\"You forgot to have cookies!\" The kid declared, pointing to a large plate-full. I noticed little blue ears on his hoodie. Normally high GI cookies filled with artificial ingredients and preservatives would not make my stomach grumble, but the fat man had control of my cravings as well as my instincts. 300millionth fucking cookie! Hundreds of gallons worth of milk. How is it I haven't needed to pee? How is it the same fucken time to the second as three hundred trees ago? I chugged down the milk like it was a strawpedo.\n\n\"Night, kid,\" I said, nonchalantly, wiping the milk off my top lip with my sleeve. \"It's been real.\"\n\n\"Huggies, Santa?\" he asked, arms extending. His hand still clung to his teddy, but his hoodie had fallen off, revealing a shiny, hairless head.\n\nIt was like I was punched in the stomach. The realisation this might be this kids last Christmas. The memory of my sisters last Christmas. \n\nI knew why I was chosen this year.\n\n", "\"So this year it's me? But, but, but-\"\n\nLittle elf number 1 wagged his finger. \"We have been over this. You are the lucky individual to bring Christmas joy year. Now hold still. We need your measurements.\" The 3 tiny elves scrambled around me with measuring tapes and tiny step ladders. They pinched my pants, grabbed my arms, and clasped onto my neck. I had never felt more violated. \n\n\"But I'm Muslim for Pete's sake. I don't believe in Santa.\" I tried rationalizing. I didn't believe in Santa. I mean, half the world didn't believe in Santa and they were Christian. \n\n\"Hey, not our problem. Take it up with the big guy.\" Little elf number 2 poked at my stomach. \"Good you are already fat. Makes the process easier. \n\n\"Big guy? You mean Santa? Process? What process? AND WILL YOU GET OFF ME?!?\" I waved my arms around and backed myself against the wall. I threw up a fighting pose as a warning. \n\n\"Dude, you are Santa.\" said disapprovingly from the third elf\n\n\"No you clutz. The other big guy. Jesus man.\" A new man walked into the room. He stood at a solid 6 foot height and carried himself with a bigger swagger. He looked Arab with dark black hair and tan skin, not to mention the scraggly beard. \n\n\"Jesus. You know, the guy nailed to the cross. Died for your sins. The whole schtick.\" The new man pointed to himself. \"Me.\"\n\n\"So you are Jesus?\"\n\n\"Nice to meet you. And you are?\" He held out his hand for a handshake. \n\nI returned the greeting with a firm grip. \"Mohammad. Wait so did the Christians get it right? You know the whole which is the right religion to get into heaven.\"\n\n\"Yes and no. Take a seat.\" He waved his hands and all of a sudden we were in an empty room minus 2 standard folding chairs. At least the annoying elves are gone.\n\n\"okay...so Jesus, glad to finally meet you, but what do you mean by 'yes and no'?\"\n\n\"You see. All religions contain something to be taught. Some lesson. Except some of the more recent ones like Scientology. That is just humans being dumb.\"\n\n\"So why not just have one universal religion?\"\n\n\"God is an omni-powerful and all knowing being who existed for the sake of existing. Do you really think you could follow his logic?\" he asked with a slightly accusatory tone.\n\n\"Guess not.\" I replied sheepishly.\n\nJesus sighed. \"Look. The only thing you need to know is that life is about being a good person. And if that person was forced to be Santa for a day...\"\n\n\"They should act like Santa and be jolly and spread some cheer?\"\n\n\"That's the spirit.\" Jesus got up and dusted his robes off as we returned the original room we were in. Before I knew it, he was gone and so was the memory of meeting him. All I remembered was the phrase be a good person and saw a red Santa suit across my bed. \"Huh what's this for?\" \n\nI picked the suit. It seemed to be handmade and was incredibly soft. Not to mention the wig and scraggly white beard. Deciding it was best forgotten(at least for now), I stuffed the suit into my closet and went on with my. " ]	4
	[WP] Your story only has 26 sentences, each one starting with a different letter and is in alphabetical order.	[ "About a year ago, I had a weird experience. Be open minded, please, because it's a little odd. \n\nCarla was her name. Dispassionately, she demanded a sexual experience somewhat more exotic than what I was previously used to, but I had no reason to deny her. Even then, however, I was still nervous. Fingers flicked, tongues licked, and the rest was a blur. Genitals, for example, since she was Japanese. Horny as she was, something didn't feel right. I'm still scratching my head about it in retrospect.\n\nJust when I thought everything was going well, she...changed. Kelvin, my buddy, remembers a strange, panicked phone call from me as I hollered incoherently into the phone's receiver as wet slapping noises were heard in the background. \"Lick it up,\" he heard a female voice order. My friend listened intently. \"No,\" he heard me reply in a hysterical voice. \"Oh God...what is that?\" Pain shot through my, um, sitting area as the now-lubed strapon found its way home. Questions about my own sexuality danced through my head like rainbow sugarplums. Really, though, I was enthralled. Somehow, I connected to what was happening. This was new and exciting. \n\n\"Unbelievable,\" I heard Kelvin say on the other end of the phone. Vacantly, I realized I'd accidentally put him on FaceTime and he'd seen the whole thing. Why me? Xanthodermic arms embraced me as I lay there, spent. \"You've learned a lot tonight,\" Carla whispered to me. \"Zzzzzzzz,\" I snored, feigning sleep before she was ready for the next round.", "Anything is possible with time travel! But no one has been able to invent time travel yet. Can you imagine Xera's surprise when a box arrived on her door with a manual and blueprints for a time machine? Despite the strange circumstances she decided that she would attempt to build it.\n\nEntirely new forms of math had to be learned from the dense manual. Fields of physics and sciences not yet invented were contained in that tome. General forms were applied specifically, and specific formulae were applied generally. How she finally managed to build the damn contraption was something Xera doubted she could explain.\n\nIt took years to learn how, and months to actually build it. Jury rigging components together, until the external frame could be constructed to hold the guts in place. Kevlar mesh wrapping the wires, and wire mesh wrapping the flux capacitor. Lines of conductive circuits woven into the machine capable of bending time and space.\n\nMaternal care is the closest adjective to describe the loving effort the Xera put into the machine. No child would ever feel unloved if it's parents payed it half the attention that the machine received. Orphans would have wept in jealousy.\n\nPractice makes perfect, and after several failed attempts and false starts Xera managed to start the contraption. Quiet hums, and boisterous whirs soon sounded through the workshop. Reluctantly she began to prepare the first test. She turned the knobs, and tuned the fields, narrowing down a target date. \n\nThe final adjustments were complete, Xera opened the compartment. Ultraviolet light flooded the room as she placed a box inside the machine. Violent turbulence rocked the building as she threw the switch, followed by a deafening stillness.\n\nWhen she opened the machine, the box was gone. Xera breathed a sigh of relief as she went to check her results against the book. You can't imagine the panic she felt after opening the box, and finding her pet guinea pig was still with her, while the book containing all the blueprints, instructions, and most importantly the information on recharging the machine, was sitting on her doorstep five years in the past.\n\nZebra.", "Another night came and went. Beginning at dusk, the tranquility of our peaceful island settlement was shattered and fear reigned. Cries drifted out through the cool night air, piercing the fog like shards of ethereal agony. Darkness crept through our houses, peeked into our rooms, wrapped us in its embrace. Even those of us who had survived for so long were helpless in that moment.\n\nForget your loved ones, they cannot help. Grind your teeth in petrified silence. Hope against hope that tonight will not be the night you are Chosen.\n\nIn the beginning we had hope. Jealously, we guarded the secrets of our defense. Killing our neighbors by hoarding our knowledge. Loathing what we had become, but comforted with the thought of a brighter tomorrow, a tomorrow when we no longer feared the night. \n\nMemories of when we thought this would someday end.\n\nNight falls again. Our hopes could not have been further from the mark. Perhaps it will pass the night without Choosing, we whisper to ourselves in vain. Quietly, we huddle in our rooms and wait. Remembering when this was a town full of people... So many have been Chosen. Twelve of us are left--no, judging by the screams we are only eleven now.\n\nUnder cover of darkness we are thankful that we live, that tonight was not our night. Very soon there will be no one left here and nobody will be able to explain what happened. Wondering, wishing for answers, they will dig through the empty grave of our abandoned town. X-rated stories full of false conjecture will hit circulate but they will come nowhere close to realizing the awful truth. Yet for generations they will search, hoping to find just one record, looking for just one clue--and that is what terrifies us most.\n\nZeal, left unchecked, is the only thing that could summon the Croatoan again.", "All year long we waited for the Raine. Bringing sandbags to fortify the walls of town. Choosing the bravest to guard us. Dividing the duties in fear of his return. Even though it was months away, preparations had to be made. Forging the weapons and armor that would aid in our battle. Grieving over the thought of lost loved ones . Having there spirits fuel our souls for what was to come. It never occurred to me that maybe someday, we could kill the Raine. Justice would be served but, would it be in our lifetime? King Bathlome was hopeful in that regard. Less enthused were the townspeople who year after year saw the murder and experienced the deaths.\n\nMonths did pass and the days grew closer to the Raine's arrival. Never had so many of us come together to aid in the fortification of town. Obviously, something had awoken in the towns people.Perhaps this was going to be the year! \n\nQuickly, the day came. Regretfully, the Raine conquered. Sadness spread thru the town as if like a fog. Tried as they may, they were defeated. Unfortunately, not long after, the town was abandoned. Victorious, the Raine took up his post in the small town. Warding off all who tried to take his domain. Xena,Hercules,Gilgamesh all failed.Years have passed and no new challengers have arrived. Zero have conquered the Raine and only time will tell if someone days.", "All I could do was try not to yell and scream and cry. Bitterness overcame me like some kind of terrible illness as I sat on the sidelines of the field. Coach Stevens sat there with the same angry, annoyed look on his face that he always sported. During the third quarter, I thought I would finally get my chance to prove myself when the starting defensive lineman, Simon Tony, completely misread the play and went the wrong direction. Everyone in the stands could tell that he had messed up badly, and I was snapping up my helmet in preparation. \n\n\"Fuck!\" the coach yelled. \"Get your head in the game, Tony!\" He didn't pull Tony out though; just kept him in there like nothing happened.\n\nI felt my heart sink down into my stomach as I thought that there was nothing Tony could do that would convince the coach to let me sub in for him. Jealousy ensued as I wished that I could just be out there on the field with my team. Keeping my emotions contained, I told myself that I would get my chance; this was the last game after all.\n\n\"Let me in coach,\" I pleaded in my head as fourth quarter was winding down. \"Maybe he'll let me in next play. No, next play.\" Over and over I told myself that I would get to go in. Precious seconds ticked down on the scoreboard and I knew my time was running short.\n\nQuickly, I ran over to the coach and asked him if I could go in, despite his constant insisting during practice that we not ask him for play time. \"Really?\" he responded. \"Sit on that bench over there, Liggens, and don't bug me again until the game is over.\"\n\nTears covered the face of ever player as the clock turned to 0; we had lost our first playoff game, 46-16. Unlike the others, though, I was crying not because we lost, but because I didn't get to contribute anything to the team in our last game. Vigorously I shoved my equipment under my seat on the bus and sat down. Why would my coach treat me like that? Xylophones and trumpets could be heard from the band as they paraded back to their own bus, and it was only faintly over this that I could hear my phone ringing from my bag.\n\n\"You get any play time?\" my friend asked me over the phone.\n\n\"Zero.\"" ]	5

Subsets and Splits

No community queries yet

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