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] A man is gifted (or cursed) with the ability to take other people's pain for them, through touch.	[ "Please be gentle reddit, my first piece of writing to the public\n\n“Amy, you come here right now” \nI glanced up, surprised to see a little girl standing in front of me. She had a mouthful of candy and a smile from ear to ear as she reached forward holding a lollipop in front her.\n“Here you go mister” her little blue eyes staring intently from her lollipop to me encouraging me to take it. \n\nNow, I might think this was rather unusual given that it’s not everyday someone actually notices me, let alone a child. Most days I’m completely invisible to the countless number of people who pass me bye. On this particular day I was clad head to toe in a heavy dark duffle coat, my worn camouflage cargo pants blended in nicely with the garbage bin beside me. My grey wooly hat was pulled down below my ears as I sat with my legs pulled in close to my chest. I hadn’t shaved in months, my beard was thick and unkempt and I most certainly did not smell like roses. If I didn’t know me, I would’ve given myself a wide berth for fear of the unknown. \nI however, like most things in my life knew that this encounter was not a coincidence. I had been drawn to this location partly due Marios bakery located around the corner on Madison ave but also due the fact that I knew this was where I had to be. I had only waited two days and now I knew why. \n\nI reached forward gently taking the lollipop from her. I allowed my ungloved fingers to lightly touch the palm of her hand. She inhaled slowly as our eyes met for the first time, my eyes filled with tears as I took it from her. \n\nIt’s not like this every time but today her pain and sadness truly overwhelmed me. She was just a sweet little girl. I could feel her joy, the happiness she had for life simply by just being. I could hear the songs she would sing to herself and the fun she had playing. I could also feel the big heavy shadow that would sneak into her room at night and touch her where she knew she shouldn’t be touched. I could feel all of her pain, his stubble against her cheek, his heavy breathing and the smell of his breath as he whispered in her ear how she was his very special princess; every painful thrust inside her and the burden of their special secret was now mine. \n\nI cried silently as I took it, leaving a mere fragment of what had happened. I smiled a sad knowing smile as she walked back towards her mother. Looking back over her shoulder our eyes met again, I tried to convey in that look to her that tomorrow, there would be no more shadows. I got up and headed to Mario’s, a glazed cream and cheese bagel with peanut butter was on my mind, I needed the energy. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day in more ways then one. \n" ]	1
This has probably been asked a hundred thousand times, but I can't find anything here. My apologies if this is a repost or what not.	[WP] You are an agent of Satan. For every soul you lead to damnation, you get one years' reprieve from your own torment. Tell about a day in your life.	[ "So I was trying to sell my soul to Satan, thinking that I'd probably end up there anyway... it turns out being an agent of Satan is a pyramid scheme. He tried to sell me on this: \"You'll save a year off of your own torment every time you cause another soul to go to Hell...\" This sounded great at first until I really started thinking about it... I mean really, Hell is an eternity, if you damned the whole of the human population over all time, you'd still have an eternity of torment... talk about not worth it...", "I didn't actually want one, did I? I couldn't tell anymore. Maybe that was the point of this. Maybe the real punishment is forcing others into this as well. After all that's what happened to me. I hated it, but every person I brought down with me have me a strange satisfaction. Soon I would be free. I knelt down obediently as two other Agents shackled my arms, ankles and neck, then finally left. At first it was horrible being chained, but I don't mind it nearly as much anymore. It gave me time to think and to pray. Yes, I still pray. How weird is that? I pray for all sorts of things. But now they l've found my thoughts and prayers are becoming darker.\n\nI bowed my as best I could given the chains. The metal dug into my skin, but I didn't mind. I was so scarred up I didn't feel much anymore. It was still annoying though, not being able to move freely. I found myself unconciously muttering prayers like I do every night, when a phrase caught my ear.\n\n\"Please, God, let there be another work war...\" I whispered softly.\n\nDid I really want one? Yes. I guess I do.", "BRRIIIINGGGGG\n\nI let the alarm ring for an irritably long 5 seconds as I buried my head deeper into my pillow. I refuse to open my eyes. \n\n\"Another day in paradise.\"\n\nThat isn't some hip, ironic statement to start my day by the way. This is literally day 179 of paradise...relative to what is to come anyway. You see, I'm a literal \"dead man walking\" on your earth. I lived a rather sinful life, and was rewarded with a one way ticket to hell after my death.\n\nIf you're wondering what I did to get there; it was nothing too fancy by your standards. I was not a serial killer, mass murderer or (gasp) terrorist. No, mine was a very standard corporate fraud/ponzi scheme type gig. I got caught but, I served a very cushy sentence, and all was well for the remainder of my natural life...or so I thought. \n\nTurns out, St. Peter doesn't give a shit what TMZ or CNN says are the worst crimes. All the luxuries of social standing, and favours owed from big shots simply did not translate to the big man. I was judged purely on the live's I affected on earth, and I gotta say, I've racked up the numbers to make some of the worst of the sociopaths blush.\n\n\"8326 years, 3 months, 21 days, 35 minutes and 23 seconds of torment.\"\n\nThat was the sentence passed before the hammer fell down. That number isn't arbitrary by the way. That is the precise amount of unhappiness (or hardship) in terms of time that I have directly inflicted on the people of earth as a result of my actions. If you're also wondering about the whole \"eternal damnation\" thing being debunked don't worry, they explained that to me too. That's the one thing I like about this realm, they aren't vague about these things, like filling the right forms out at the DMV, or \"terms and conditions\" for your electronics. They want you to know exactly how much of a piece of shit you are before you face what is to come. You really have no argument for why you shouldn't be there. \n\nAs to the other \"big\" questions I should have asked God, like why were we on earth in the first place, who came before you, and when is the CDC going to finally classify \"Bieber fever\" more deadly than ebola? I don't get the luxury of asking those questions (on account of how large of a turd I am). I can get to that after my sentence.\n\nTBC?", "\"You took reddit down?\"\n\n\"Yup,\" I was actually very pleased with myself. Not so much for the act itself, but the meaning behind it.\n\n\"But, but, what am I going to do?\" \n\n\"You'll figure something out I'm sure.\" My ass you will.\n\n\"Well, I guess I could go--\"\n\n\"4chan too.\"\n\n\"WHAT?\"\n\n\"All of it really, the internet itself. It's surprisingly fragile.\"\n\n\"How can you even do that?\"\n\n\"It's easier than you think actually.\" Easy, when you have all of the resources of Hell to work with that is.\n\n\"But...but where will everyone take out their frustration? Their sexual frustration? Their...their anger?\"\n\n\"I'm sure they'll figure something out.\"\n\nEternity is going to be a breeze.", "Coming out of the tunnel on the FDR just north of 42nd was my favorite part of the everyday commute. Every morning, at 7:52, like clockwork, I would hit that perfect timing where the traffic was clear, and really let the V12 in the Aston Martin sing the screaming tenor note that it was known for, echoing off of the tunnel walls of the FDR Expressway. Downshifting the car into third gear and bumping the tachometer up to 6000 RPM feels so satisfying, and I never miss my chance to hear my own private soundtrack through the wonderful acoustics of the tunnel in the convertible. Nothing quite feels as good as conducting the concert being sung by the twelve cylinders with my right foot, flexing the hydraulic pump under the pedal as if it were my own little conducting baton. Feeling the stainless steel gear selector slide effortlessly, but firmly, into place as I shift into fourth, the solid THUNK of the transmission always transforms the high tenor concerto into a booming baritone rumble, breathing a life of brimstone and hellfire into the cold, previously lifeless asphalt of the expressway. \n\nLetting back on the accelerator as I get on the offramp, at 7:53 exactly, I'm always sure to hit the sweet spot of speed, moving just fast enough to give the slightest whiff of danger, pumping my adrenaline and causing me to tightly grip the cold, leather-wrapped steering wheel with my white-knuckled left hand, holding the 2-ton metal concert in a light powerslide around the ramp. Coming up to the traffic light as I approach the surface streets, I like to let the engine slow its pace without downshifting the transmission until the last second before it stalls, feeling the strong, powerful vibrations, course through my whole body from the warm, supple leather seats that wrap around me ever so gently. Every morning, when I time it correctly, I hit the signal just as it turns green, forcing me to slow just enough to get this playful sensation, as if the powerful motors of the car were manhandling me, teasing me to the edge of a pleasure that few machines can bring me.\n\nIt's the little things in life like my morning commute that I've learned to appreciate ever since I've died.\n\nClassically trained as one of the best lawyers to have graduated from NYU Law, I was doomed to an eternity in hell when I had selected my profession. Before death, I was said to have been one of the best and most capable corporate lawyers, having orchestrated the successful defenses of some of the richest, most powerful men in the world. As it would turn out, these men also happened to be some of the biggest scumbags in the universe, and keeping them content with their lots in life ensured that they never repented for their sins and would end up in hell with me. During my time as a corporate lawyer, the world saw a record number of unpunished conspirators, scheming to ruin millions of lives to pad their own retirements, ensuring a steady supply of assholes and douchebags to populate the cold, dark hell that I was to end up in.\n\nOf course, someone who drew as much ire as I did for the nation didn't have a long lifespan. At 29 years old, when my name showed up in the obituaries, it was followed by a tragic story of angry old men, displeased with how I had kept the man responsible for destroying their retirements out of jail as he himself took his golden parachute to the tropical island of Mauritius, coming to exact their revenge. And I can't blame them, they certainly deserved some justice in the world. While I did remember thinking that it was kind of fucked up that a gang of old veterans would descend upon a spritely young woman just trying to prove herself in a cutthroat career, I'm not the kind of person to hold grudges. After all, I wouldn't be dead for long.\n\nDown in the eighth circle of hell, I had fully expected to spend an eternity suffering, seeing as how lawyers were supposed to covered in hot tar and poked at by demons with pitchforks endlessly. It certainly began that way when I had first arrived. While being tarred was one of the most physically painful things I had experienced, it was nothing compared to taking a pitchfork to the uterus. As one of the most excruciating sensations I have ever had the displeasure of feeling, I still shudder when thinking about the seven days worth of impaling and burning that I had suffered.\n\nAfter eight days in hell, Satan himself appeared before me. An entity unlike any I have been able to describe, his mere presence increased the cruelty that those of us in hell suffered by a hundred fold. As he approached, the tar burned hotter than ever, and I struggled to focus on the contract he offered me.\n\n\"It seems your work on earth is more valuable to me than your suffering here. We seem to have lost a great many sinners to repentance since you have left and they have been incarcerated,\" he said to me, coldly ignoring my screams as I was penetrated by another pitchfork. I could barely hear him over my own screaming as he lifted me and sat me down on a pitchfork rising out of the ground. Spinning me on it, stirring my insides with the prongs, he continued.\n\n\"Now, as long as these sinners are incarcerated in prisons where they can find the light of Jesus, I'll never reach the same number of populations down here that I need,\" he explained, pulling me back off of the pitchfork and allowing my insides to spill out under me, \"So I'll allow you to return as my liason, to ensure my souls return to me. For every soul you bring me, you shall delay your own return by on year. After these few extra punishments, of course.\"\n\nAfter suffering some of the worse experiences of my insides being coated with tar, I found myself back on earth, in the medical examiner's office, my body returned to it's youthful form with no scars or indications of my torture or death. As an agent of Satan himself, I immediately found my way back to my apartment, and took no time in grasping my newfound opportunity at life to re-establish my position as the best corporate lawyer in the business. Working through my old contacts (and some of my newfound powers of persuasion as an Agent of Hell) I quickly established my own firm of defense lawyers, and began ensuring a steady stream of rich asshats for hell.\n\nAnd this firm was where my daily commute now brought me. Coming from my apartment on the upper east side, down to the building that proudly bore my name on it, the Aston Martin that so ceremoniously whisked me from one side of Manhattan to the other always performed amazingly when it came to avoiding the pedestrians in line outside the building trying to escape punishments for their sins. Every morning, at 8:00 AM precisely, the bably blue sports car would smoothly sail into the entrance of the parking garage, I would get to hear the baritone tremors of the exhaust note echo off the walls of the garage as I approached my parking spot while the convertible top slid back into position atop the car. \n\nEffortlessly gliding into the parking space designated for it, every morning the last thing I would see before turning the engine off would be the headlights illuminating my name. Nothing gets you quite as drunk off power as seeing your name on a building, and my stomach always fluttered with butterflies just a little bit when I read the AMY COHEN, ESQ. on the wall when I parked.\n\nOf course, this feeling would persist throughout the day as I worked in my office and saw COHEN & ASSOCIATES on every piece of the building. Even this feeling never let me get complacent though, as was evidenced by my daily fights with the accounting department, confused as to how we are operating so well on bare minimum profits, over the fact that I was accepting almost every case that walked through our doors.They didn't understand. They'll never understand.\n\nI'll never go back again. The most excruciating experience I've ever felt, compared to the pure bliss that resides simply in my morning routine, is something that I'll do anything to avoid. I remind myself this a hundred times a day. Every time an accountant calls me financially incompetent, every time a competitor calls me a cutthroat bitch, every time a suffering plaintiff screams at me that I'm denying them any justice, I remind myself. The hundreds of souls that I keep complacent with sinning and send to hell may not be worth my Aston Martin, or even my own Law firm, but they are definitely worth me not being in hell with them.\n\nSo every day I sit in my office, I work hundreds of cases, and ensure hundreds of people get off scott-free, never repent for their sins, and end up in hell before me.", "Every day starts and ends with the small ones. That's how you do it, really, play the long run, every morning. You never cause the act yourself if you're already damned, you just simply lay the way for the lust of men and women to damn themselves.\n\nI wake up and head to the bathroom, look in the mirror, combing my hair back with my black brush, catching the cloven hoofed angel himself, standing behind me with folded arms, and a raised eyebrow. He sips something red, I never ask what it is though. It's like he doesn't trust his earthly agents, but we do our part in silence, as he does. Heading outside with a spring to the step [you can't act like you're about to sin, mortals catch onto that], the first stop is the store. \n\nNear the beginning of the month, the place is packed as they scramble to and fro, isle to isle, getting their 30 day allotment of supplies. Again, small ones are the best...a child, grade school, no more than 10, eyeing the cheap airplane kit while his mother argues with the management over some sale. Strutting by, I offer him the toy with a kind smile.\n\"Take it, it's just a toy, no one will ever know...\". He does, and I hear the master cackle. A flashforward, a blink in my mind of the fate of the young boy: 15 years, 8 months and 23 days later, the young kleptomaniac takes his last item, to be shot dead by a guard after what he thought a successful heist, and one more year to my name as the soul is whisked to hell. \"Thou shalt not steal\" I whispered quietly. One damnation was always worth a good drink, I figured, so a journey to the corner coffee shop was in order.\n\n As I ventured to the counter, swiping my card, I saw the man behind me eyeing the tip jar. Jittery, shaking, a man with little to lose and a lot to gain. I reach into my wallet and fish out five one dollar banknotes, a fifty cleverly hidden amongst them, and slide them into the jar, the larger of them facing the man. As I took my drink from the counter, thanking the woman for her service, I saw the fifty slip into the pocket of the man--I groaned as I stepped outside, the flashforward blurry. An overdose would end the man, but enough sins had tainted him from his own wrongdoing. His further suffering from stealing didn't keep mine away. \n\nThe last errand I needed for my own good, as one day kept me alive for hundreds more, so I stopped by the bank. I walked to the teller, and withdrew my card from my wallet while striking up a pleasant conversation. I eyed her, attempting to find some flaw to exploit, until a masked woman ran into the room, brandishing a gun at a seated pair discussing a mortgage. Always faced with eternal hellfire, the woman caused no stir from me as she asked for all the money that could be provided, waving the weapon inexperienced. As a group of civilians started running from the bank, I followed step, passing by the robber. I whispered quiet as night, \"do it\", and kept running. I hit the ground outside not from a fall, or a wound, but the visions of the future assaulting me. \n\nThe woman, cases of murder, a ticket to the pits of hell.\nMental scarring of another, losing faith in the Lord, another soul blackened.\nA cop, to be affected in the future, lay false testimony, as do 3 others.\nThen a survivor from the incident, to cheat on his wife while in a temporary coma, adultery, and another soul.\n\t\nI brush my eye with a free hand, wobbling to my knees in an attempt to stand. I couldn't help but subtract a year of my own life, by swearing to God, I saw the devil's hand reach out to pick me off the ground, wishing me a job well done for the day...\n\nedited for format", "Pennywise, pound foolish my grandma used to say. The whole human race to a fault. So if you want to get the most redemption out of a day it is best to play the long game. Edge as many people into damnation as you can, slowly and meticulously. The work put into 1 murderer is more easily spent getting a group of housewives to cross the line into damnation with a gossip session.\n\nI like to start out my day early. Flawless hair and make-up is a must, followed by a a killer outfit. Too slutty, you'll miss out on the envy crowd, too reserved you lose the lust factor. \n\nI work in a small town to amplify my influence. I'm on almost every committee in town and everybody knows me. They eat my triple chocolate oreo cupcakes that I bring by for the big game, the meeting, the picnic or just because. Today I have a box of donuts for my rounds volunteering at the hospital. No, Mr. Jones, you stay right there and I'll come bring this donut to you! You need to rest, dear. Lean over, let him catch a whiff of my scent. Sloth, gluttony, lust. Not a lot, but its cumulative. \n\nThe townspeople come to me, ask me over, confide in me their secrets. I know just where to push. Yes, you should be angry that your husband was watching porn! No, of course it's natural to watch pornography sometimes, we all do it, even me. Lean in, wink. \n\nOn to my part time role as a dispatcher. This is my favorite because so many of them are easy targets. You are so good at your job, why aren't you running this place? Why do you always get night patrols when Officer prettyboy gets to work days? \n\nI keep away from cheap stuff. No local affairs. That would only hurt me long term. The more they like me the easier it is to influence them. Why not go out and get what you want, no need, if he's not giving it? It's not fair for you to feel so alone when you are such a good wife. And I only seem to have their best in mind. So kind, so selfless, so hardworking, so beautiful. \n\nTonight is another party at my house. Southern style BBQ, fully stocked bar, all the towns political players and I'll be buzzing around encouraging. They'll feel so good they won't realize they are buying my freedom with their enslavement. \n\n", "“Rain. I love the rain, Miros. I think it’s my favorite thing about the world above.”\n\nMiros snorted and pulled his hat down on his head. “What about it? It’s wet and it’s cold.”\n\n“Maybe just because of that. Those words don’t describe anything back home. There’s nothing refreshing down there. Not like topside.” I turned my face to the sky and let the water soak my hair and run down my face. It made me feel alive. “Here, it falls from the sky and washes everything clean.”\n\n“Not everything.”\n\nI sighed. “No, not us, I suppose.”\n\n“Anyway, you like it so much up here, why’s it take you so long every year to do what you gotta do to stay?” He lit a cigarette and kept looking ahead at what was supposed to be my quarry.\n\n“You mean my…renewal?”\n\n“If that’s how you wanna sugar coat it.” He took a long drag. “Sugar or not, turd’s a turd. You gotta eat this one at least once a year and you know it.”\n\nI wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Poetic, Miros. It’s a wonder seduction isn’t your modus. If you only spoke like that all the time, you’d practically be an incubus.”\n\nHe grunted and shrugged his massive shoulders. “Am what I am, Heshmeth.”\n\nHe was right. Wrath needs little subtlety or nuance; it’s in every living thing. All Miros needed to do was bring it out. There are few problems those like Miros can’t solve by just bashing their heads on it. Or bashing someone else’s head on it. \n\nHe continued. “Anyway. We gotta do this shit to stay out of that nightmare. I do it cause I gotta and cause it’s what I am.” He paused and took another drag on the cigarette. “Question is, Heshmeth, what’re you?” \n\nI blinked and turned to him. He was looking down at me. “What do you...”\n\n“Every year you wait til you’re almost outta time. Then it’s some little fish like this, buys you a year and you spend it doing shit like standing in the rain.”\n\n“I do exactly* what he sent me to do, exactly as often as I’m required to do it. No more and no less. That’s the deal. He never said anything about bringing him great saints laid low, never offered extra credit, and never required I do it with glee or gusto. We are parasites on this world, Miros. I’d like to ruin it as little as possible while I’m here.”\n\n“You remember you work for the devil, right? Working to bring ruin to the world and all that shit? Or you forget somewhere here in the rain?”\n\n“I know exactly who my employer is!” I snapped. “And I know his aims. But If he wants the tender cuts of humanity, he can come get them himself. I’m not here for him. I’m here for me.” \n\nMiros shrugged. “Not gonna be here for anyone if you don’t get this over with soon.”\n\nI scowled at him and turned to walk towards the man shivering in the box, ready to offer him the greatest deal of his life. My clothes were soaked and cold. The water running from my hair blurred my vision. Behind me I heard Miros grind the cigarette butt into the ground with his shoe, grumbling.\n\n“Fuckin' hate the rain.”\n", "Ms. Brandt, I cant access my schedule.\n\nIt's on your Google calendar.\n\nI know where it should be, but its not there.\n\nOh, for the love of... Are you logged into your personal or work account?\n\nI don't know. After hundreds of years having a appointment book, I can't change with every trend.\n\nFor someone who runs a website you are such a Luddite.\n\nI don't need a lecture, I need today's itinerary.\n\nYes, Sir.\n\n8:30-10:00 Upholstery cleaning. \n\nAgain. Didn't we have that done like a week ago.\n\nWell, if you could stop making such a mess, either that of we buy new furniture.\n\nPoint taken. After that?\n\n10:00-11:30 Grooming. Horn filing and waxing.\n\n11:30-12:30 Lunch\n\nThen you have auditions for the rest of the day.\n\nMake sure the notary is here on time. I don't want to lose any more due to \"technicalities.\"\n\nI'll confirm with their office. \n\nGood. Buzz me when the cleaners get here. I want to show them a few spots that need extra attention.\n\nOne more thing sir. \n\nYes?\n\nHow much longer? How much longer till I get my contract back? It's been six years and I've helped you damn hundreds. \n\nMs. Brandt, the terms are until we find you a replacement. So, I suggest you try a little harder in your recruitment attempts\n\nBut ... but. You have hundreds of years free from your torment accumulated. Why don't you just close down?\n\nWhy would I ever close down? To be free of hell for a short reprieve. The Backroom Casting Couch has become my paradise." ]	9
	[WP] You discover the opposite to the Death Note: The Life Note.	[ "So the sperm cells carried a note to Sarah's egg. It says \"You, Sarah's egg, are about to be given life. You have been Warned.\" The egg sighs and lets the sperm do its thing, and laughs, 'cuz it tickles, which makes Sarah puke 5 minutes later. She goes to pee, and when she's done, she looks into the toilet bowl and sees a folded note. She pulls it out. Weirdly, it's dry. She reads it. It reads \"Your Pregnant. -Your partner's sperm.\"" ]	1
	[WP] You own a flower shop. Describe one of your customers and the relationship that ensues.	[ "Sunlight pierced into the small shop. Two people of similar stature were engaged in a conversation. \n\n\"He's an overall pretty solid guy, and just happened to get messed up with the wrong crowd. It's pretty sad.\" His head rotated to examine some bouquets on the side, revealing his neatly trimmed facial hair.\n\nI frowned and gave a nod. Every now and then people came in for flowers to be used at funeral processions and the like. \"Do you know what you're looking for?\" I asked, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere.\n\n\"Probably a bouquet...\"\n\n\"Allright.\" I lifted my chin to signify him to continue. I limped over to the bouquet section.\n\n\"What would you want?\"\n\nI furrowed my eye-brows in a surprised manner. Decades of years in this business shows, oddly, a low amount of people asking for the professional's opinion. People typically walk in, point, and walk out. \"I'd go for a color theme and for meaning. Would you mind telling me about him? What was he like?\" \n\n\"Allright.\" He lifted his chin in a similar mannerism. Often common while dealing business and trying to show friendliness. \"He's a little older. Very passionate about his family and friends-\"\n\n\"Orange perhaps.\" I muttered.\n\nHe flashed a smile and continued. \"He also runs a flower shop! Pretty similar to what you've got going on here.\"\n\n\"Smart man.\" I retorted.\n\n\"Sure is.\" He coughed. \"I would know more about flowers and what I'm looking for, him being a florist and everything, but I was never really around in my younger years.\" \n\n\"That's a shame. Do you know how many you'll -- need?\" I winced from a sharp pain in my lower back. Earlier that week I had a ban run in with some people. Nothing serious.\n\n\"It's going to be very small. Probably just one or two bouquets.\" He sounded a little solemn. Pretty usual when people linger on sad events. They need to move on.\n\n\"Sure thing. Where ya workin at? I can usually send anything over to your business, if that's eas-\"\n\n\"By all means, I can take them now.\" A sudden tenseness was bestowed onto his voice.\n\nI faced by back towards him to gather some flowers. \"Allright, well give me a few minutes-\"\n\n\"Why did you fight, Dad?\"\n\nSilence. Everything seemed to become dim. \"Danny...\"\n\nA cold bar was pressed against the back of my neck. \"You should have stayed home.\"\n\n\"What the hell Danny you've been gone for years...\"\n\n\"You were sort of useless.\"\n\n\"Do you have any idea how hard it was-\"\n\n\"I'm sick of your bullshit, old man. You got involved where you weren't suppose to.\" He was trembling. \n\n\"You haven't grown a single bit...\"\n\n\"Like that's gonna matter here soon\"\n\nCalmly I stood. \"It will for the rest of your life, boy.\"\n\n\"What the fuck we're you thinking trying to save the child?\"\n\n\"You wouldn't have?\"\n\n\"Not when Tyson is involved. No one fucks with Tyson.\"\n\nI was amazed at his vocabulary becoming vulgar in such a short notice. I wasn't sure if he had done this before. He sounded like a blinded fool.\n\n\"What happens now?\"\n\n\"What colors should go to that funeral, again?\"\n\n\"O--\"\n\nClick\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------\n\nRain drops scattered the peace. The field become an eerie home to this new age mafia's body dump. One particular space had decorative roses on it.\n\n\"Tyson is glad to see your commitment.\"\n\nDanny stood over the roses in silence. There was no emotion. You can't be angry at your success. You can't be sad when you've lost nothing.\n\n\"Good.\" He turned around and shoved some papers into the other man's chest. \"I need more jobs.\"\n\nOn the ground were orange roses dyed with traces of red. \n", " Owning a flower shop allows you to see the crevices of the human condition- the flowers sent by proud mothers and fathers to their son or daughter at graduation, the bouquets sent between lovers on their anniversaries, and elaborate arrangements that were simply noted with a tag reading \"thank you\" or \"thinking of you\", and similarly, by that very same condition, we send flowers to try to right our wrongs and we send the flowers for those that are no longer with us. Ironic isn't it that we kill something so beautiful to make us feel alive....\n\n Flipping through the order list for the week, I saw roses for the Robertson wedding, peonies for the Jackson funeral, daffodils for a second birthday party.... suddenly a young man stumbled in, in his early twenties or so. The bell at the door rang- which seemed to startle him a bit. His eyes darted around the shop for a moment searching for purpose. His jacket looked like a hand-me-down because of the tears around the collar, his hair was ruffled a bit. Yet- there was a quality to him, a wholesomeness much like Norman Rockwell painting, eyes big, round, and blue and the tips of his nose and ears were pink where the cold wind had licked him. \n\"Young man, can I help you?\"\n\"No, no, I know what I want\"\n\"Are you sure?\"\n\"Yes, I've had them picked out for a while now- a bouquet of lillies\"\nI was suddenly concerned-\" sympathy flowers? Well I'm sorry, but do you mind asking me what for?\"\n \"A friend he said, a friend who has been dying for a long time\" \n\"I'm terribly sorry to hear that\" I said, lowering my head. His voice cracked and quivered a bit, \"I don't feel sorry for him being gone, for him it was a relief- just for those that he left, i feel sorry for..them\" he muttered, \"his mom and dad, they tried so hard you know?\" \nI didn't know, but I nodded my head because the boy looked like he needed reassurance. \"Would you mind adding hydrangeas- those were his mom's favorite\" he forced a smirk. \n\"Of course sweetheart\" \nThough he was standing right in front of me, he couldn't have seemed farther away.\n\"Where are they being sent to?\"\n\"The funeral home\"\n\"Which one?\"\n\"Well, probably the one near my house, uh I think it's 43 Punchard Ave, this Wednesday\"\n\"And who are they made out to?\"\n\"The Cooney family\"\n\"Alright kid, you're all set- it'll be 45 dollars\"\nHe handed me an old crumpled fifty- and I noticed his hands shaking, I took it from him and put it in the register, by the time I looked up to give him his change he was gone. \n\nThat Wednesday, business was especially slow. I didn't have to arrange another bouquet until 4:30, so I dragged my feet out into the sidewalk to get a copy of that day's paper. It was cold, and I forgot my jacket- I was in such a rush I stumbled back through the front door of the shop, and was startled by the bell. I thought of that young man I had only seen days earlier do the same. \n\nThen, I saw him again. On page 6- the Obituaries. Jack Cooney, Age 23. ", "\"Hey... So, look, there's this girl I'm taking out tonight, what should I get her? I want something special... I think she likes.. Gah, what are they called.. Carnations?\"\n_________________________________________________________________\n\"Hey man.. Can I get a half dozen of those carnations again? They actually were her favourite; you're the man for suggesting it dude, I definitely owe you one... Oh yeah, I got a second date!\"\n______________________________________________________________\n\"Me again, can't believe you still work here! Must've been a few years now, eh? Yeah, back for more of the same...\"\n_______________________________________________________________\n\"Oh, look who it is! I've been great thanks... Hey, I need to order like ten dozen... Do you guys do wedding arrangements?\"\n__________________________________________________________\n\"Hey... Just one of her carnations, please. They were always her favourite...\"", "He's always so angry when he comes into the shop.\n\nI don't even need to look to know it's him. Every time he comes in, he gives the door a good shove. Not just a push, a shove. The tin bell hanging above jangles and protests at this mistreatment. I always have to double-check, to make sure it hasn't been shaken loose.\n\nMy customer's not a small man, but the way he stands, hunched down, shoulders squared like a linebacker makes him look that way. In truth, he should be around half a head taller than me. Dark hair, pale skin. Thin, sharp eyebrows and angry eyes. That's Stanley all right.\n\nWe don't really talk much. Hell, the only reason I know his name is that I overheard him on the phone once. And he's a regular at the shop. Once every two, three weeks, he'll be in here, red nose, puffy eyes, angry at the world and God knows what else.\n\nBut he's a good customer, by all means. He'll come in, look about for a minute or so. Choose a bunch of flowers - never the same kind - and slaps them on the counter. Stanley always pays with cash - he slaps the bills on the counter too. And he's off. No stopping for chitchat, no lingering about in the aisles.\n\nI don't really much about him at all. But this day, this Valentine's day, he's in again and this time he's smiling.", "He was a sweet young thing, just like my Johnny back when we were courting. The first time he stopped by was to buy a corsage for his prom date. A big-eyed young girl came by later the afternoon to get a boutonniere in the same color. That was the only time I got to meet her.\n\nThroughout the next few years, the young boy would come twice a year like clockwork. He was going to college a few states over but every Christmas and every June 3, her birthday he would come by. Her favorite color was yellow so he always got something bright, like daffodils or bush roses, and she loved flowers, she kept a window box full of columbine. He joked that she was a real flower child, with long skirts and everything. These visits were my favorite, he always asked for pictures of my grand babies, they just grew up so fast!\n\nOne day, the fall after he graduated, he came by for a bunch of red roses. Apparently, he wanted to propose to her, so I set him straight. Roses were cliche, this girl knew what she liked. I sent him off with arms heaping with columbine and baby's breath, and, because I am a romantic, it was half off.\n\nThe boy brought in pictures of the engagement and eventually the wedding. I saw him every couple months, when he stopped by just to get a surprise for her. One day, he came in quietly. I began to gather up various bright stalks and he asked me to put in extra white flowers. \"Its for a grave\". He broke down, and so I flipped the sign and made him some herbal tea, chamomile, that he sipped as he told me the story. She rode her bike to work everyday, and some bastard hit her and ran. He went out looking for her and found her in a ditch.\n\nOn the first of each month, he still comes by to pick up the already prepared bouquet that I never accept payment for and ask about my grandkids.", "It must be Tuesday. Ever since I opened this place 15 years ago he has arrived at 9am every Tuesday morning. He was just a teenager 15 years ago. Now he looks like a man of middle age. The years have not been kind to him. His face has weathered beyond it's years and the vacant stare has sunken further into his skull. With a quite murmur, He'll ask for a dozen lilies and pay for them with a $50 bill. Then he'll spend 15 minutes silently looking them over until he has found the one that he wants. The selected stem will be gently removed from the bunch and the remaining 11 will be placed down softly on the ground. He will depart without a word. \n\nI have tried to engage him many times through the years. Every approach has failed. One time years ago, I lied and told him that there were no lilies today. There was a sadness in his eyes of which I had never seen before and is impossible to describe. His mouth opened and out of his throat came a croak. He asked for roses. To this day I feel so much guilt. \n\nI have so many questions I would like to ask him but like the questions I have asked throughout the years I suspect they will also go unanswered. I am not one to pry and besides I get the feeling from him that there are some things that are not worth knowing of. No matter how strong of a curiosity you have. \n ", "When you run the florist next to the funeral home, you have to feel a little guilty. \nIt's sort of like opening up a 24/7 pizza shop next to a known dopehouse; your target audience is right next door and always willing to spend their spare cash on your services.\nWe do other things, of course, but the funerary stuff is our bread and butter - and those on the path to romance don't really frequent our rather somber, serious looking doors. \nWhile we're a step removed from the actual business of Death, the owner of the place next door will still crack the odd joke about being in the business that never goes out of business. Do I feel like ghoul sometimes? Sure I do, but it's not like I'm out there bumping off people to increase sales. People just die and someone has to be there to make the place look appropriately decorative, yet not at all festive. \n\nOf course I remember the first time Kyle walked into my shop; he was striking enough that he stuck in your mind without any added assistance. Chestnut brown eyes and hair the colour of newly minted pennies, offset by an olive-brown Mediterranean complexion. That would have been unusual enough, but he was also inconsolable about the death of his wife, Cassandra - to the point where I thought he was going to slit his wrists with my pinking shears. \nI helped him make the arrangements for the floral aspect of the funeral; he took extreme care selecting everything in accordance with his deceased wife's wishes. \nAfter the funeral I felt a small pang of regret that I'd never see him again; I'd grown fond of him during our brief interlude, planning out the particulars of his botanical needs. \nBut you don't ask for the phone number of the client whose wife just died, not 3 days earlier. \n\nSeven months later, that bright copper hair ducked in through the front doors again. \n\"Kyle!\" I squeaked - perhaps a little too excitedly. \nHe gave me a tight smile, at odds with the rest of his haggard appearance. \n\"Oh no,\" I whispered, realising he wasn't here for pleasure - just more business. \nHis mother had died, it turned out and the poor man was utterly heartbroken again. It happens sometimes; strings of family deaths. First grandma, then grandpa, then the great aunts and uncles. Sometimes a cousin and then a sister in law. One old dear outlived all twenty three of her nursing home friends, who dropped off in the space of two years. I don't think I ever saw her out of mourning black. \nAgain I did my utmost to assist poor Kyle. Striking Kyle. Handsome Kyle. Intelligent Kyle. Emotionally available Kyle. \nUgh, what am I, some kind of inverted black widow spider? \nI needed to stop this line of thought before it overtook my sensibility. \nAt least once this was all over, I could forget Kyle and his morose charm.\n\nNo such luck though. \nThis time, his sister in law, five months later. He introduced me to his brother and explained that I'd helped him out so wonderfully and I was the model of professionalism and sensitivity. \nHa! Like hell I was. I was under no illusions I'd gone the extra mile for the the brown-eyed widower just because I was smitten. Still, my services were in demand again from a family member of this laconic and irresistible man, so I did what I do best and I put up the particular plantlife that the deceased sister in law would have wanted. \nKyle was definitely flirty this time. Sad, yes. It was his brother's wife, after all. \nBut flirty as hell. \nOr maybe I'm just a lonely florist with an inappropriate crush on a client. \nDammit Kyle, get out of my life already! \nWhen he walked out the doors of my shop again, I felt mixed pangs of longing and relief. \nHow could a relationship built on death ever be appropriate? \n\nI don't even need to tell you what happened next; you've already guessed it. \nKyle was back. \nHis aunt this time; a single lady, but much beloved. Kyle took care of the arrangements on behalf of his infirm father and I got to spend another two days in his company. \nWhen his hand rested on mine as we discussed which lilies his sister was allergic to last funeral, my heart skipped a beat. \nAnd then the handsome bastard turned those liquid brown eyes on me - bruised with sorrow - and I knew I was hopelessly in love. \n\nWe married a year after his aunt's funeral - I did the flowers, of course, it made a nice change. \nWithin a year and a half, our first daughter was born - Lily - and we existed in a constant state of marital bliss. \nNo more people died, thankfully, but four years after our wedding, on our anniversary, I quipped that death brought us together. \nKyle gave me the strangest look, then his lips curled into that wonderfully rare, but powerful smile, \n\"Yes, yes it did,\" he replied.\n\n\n\n" ]	7
	[WP] Earth is a popular hunting grounds for a civilized alien race that views us like game animals. A proud alien grandpa is taking his grandson on his first hunting trip.	[ "\"grandpa, what was it like...the first time you killed a human?\"\n\n\"Well, you see Junior, humans aren't like some of the other things we hunt, they're...special.\"\n\n\"Special how? I've heard they taste different. And a lot of people get headaches when they go around the trophies,Does it make you smarter when you kill them?\"\n\n\" well, they're not like us. They're more primitive, you see how those ones over there are taking pictures together? They don't do that to scout the land, or to remember the location. They're doing it for ehrm, this thing they call fun.\"\n\n\"What's fun grandpa? Wait, look, those ones over there are moving really oddly... Are they dying?.\"\n\n\"No Junior, I believe they call that dancing, they do that for fun as well. Fun is hard to explain... I guess the best way definition I can give you is that it's something they enjoy to do, but don't need to do it. Look at those ones over there, you see them? They're doing something called kissing.\"\n\n\"That's disgusting. Is that how they reproduce? I can't imagine also having to eat through there.\"\n\n\"No, they do that for fun too I guess. To show each other they uh, you know like each other I guess.\"\n\n\"Well...if they like each other why doesn't he build her a home? Or buy her something she can use? Instead of wasting all that time, don't they have things to do?\"\n\n\"hold on junior, they're separating and the male is coming over here. I remember the first time I took your father hunting...yes, Benjamin was so disgusted he puked. Hopefully you're not the same. Now notch the charger like I taught you. Remember, aim for the heart or head, the current you send at him will kill him before he even knows any pain, there's no reason to make him suffer.\"\n\n\"I got him grandpa! And look no ones even here to notice.\"\n\n\"Yes good Junior! Now for the most exciting part, now here see, I've got his identification card, it says his name is Jonathan. I want you to press your head against his, and call his name, quickly now.\"\n\n\"What? Why? Jonathan...Jonathan Jonathan..Jona-hahahaha, grandpa what's-haha, happening? I'm seeing things, and making noises. And my body feels weird.\"\n\n\" you're absorbing his thoughts, feelings, memories, everything. It's make get a bit intense, what do you see?\"\n\n \"That girl he was with, hahaha, he bought her flowers, and he wants to mate with her, they went and ate food and they were laughing and-ah, he likes her I feel it, he wanted to leave with her just now, Ow- Ahhhh! But-she,she doesn't want to see him anymore. He wanted to do silly things with her, he wanted to go see his friend. I see his dreams. He wanted to be a space traveller. He-Ahhhh it hurts. It hurts so bad grandpa I..I'm scared.\"\n\n\"It will pass, you'll absorb everything he felt and knew and retain it for some time. But eventually it will fade. You'll only be able to recall some of the things when you're around the trophy, remember his name Junior, that's the only way to tap into his mind. No one else will be able to see inside his head but you.\"\n\n\"I..I don't feel right, my eyes want to water. But, I want to laugh. What, what was the names of dad's first trophy? I think it started with a J too.\"\n\n\"It was Josephine, he tells me she was a nice girl before she died.\"\n\n\"And what was your firsts name grandpa?\"\n\n\"Well, when I went earth was much different they didn't have all these tall buildings you see and these vehicles for transport. They rode on animals called horses, and they used flame as a light source. But I was fortunate enough to bag a rather intelligent fellow, he did many things for his fellow people. He was a writer, a scientist, he helped develop a country.\"\n\n\"Well, what was his name grandpa?\"\n\n\"Benjamin, of course.\"", "We descended to the desert below. Like always, a undefended trek of land by the indigenous population. Making out like bandits, stealing away local animals, we had a good time. I showed my younglings what the golden age of hinting on this planet used to be. Without interruption we used to-\r\rOur sensors indicated a local military jet inbound toward our location. I went to show my kin how to outrun-\r\rWhat the? They were gaining on us, odd, I aimed our saucer toward the stars. Easily making-\r\rThey were gaining! This had never before happened in documented history! My display showed a...incoming rocket!\r\rWe were shot down in the desert somewhere, we ran for our lifes as...\r\rEdit - Come on upvoting this? It ain't even good. I didn't even bother finishing it." ]	2
	[WP] A person has lost their loved one. In their grief, they visit a medium who tells them the full name of the person the other will be reincarnated in the future. One day, they meet again for the first time.	[ "Fourteen miserable years. It has been 14 miserable years without the love of my life. I wish it would have been me in the car accident. It should have been me. She was my everything. \n\nI resorted to becoming a heavy drinker; when I'm drunk I can't feel the pain. It doesn't make it any better, I just can't feel the coldness in my heart when I'm drunk. \n\nI was at the bar by myself a night recently after my wife had passed, and a big black woman came up to me.\n\n\"You're Mr. Jacobs. Right? The math teacher up at the high school?\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's me. What the hell do you want?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm a medium. I know what happened to your wife. I'm very sorry.\"\n\n\"Leave me alone. I don't want to hear your bullshit.\"\n\n\"No, I promise you. I had a vision, I saw your wife in her next life.\"\n\n\"Her next life? What the fuck are you talking about?\"\n\n\"She is going to get reincarnated, and I know what her name will be. You can find her and meet her sometime in the future!\"\n\n\"Get the hell away from me! You just want my money, and I am not giving it to you!\" \n\n\"Just listen please. She is going to be reincarnated into a girl named Caroline Raines,\" I didn't care at all for what she had to say, but I remembered that name. Just in case. The woman walked away, and I got another glass of vodka. \n\nFourteen years later it was the first day of school for the students. In my first period geometry class, a girl that stood out walked in. She had long blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. I looked passed her as if I did with my other students, the bell rang, and it was time to take roll. I looked down the list and I saw the name Caroline Raines. I remembered back to the night a couple weeks after my wife passed at the bar. That woman told me that my wife was going to be reincarnated into a girl named Caroline Raines. I said her name \"Caroline Raines,\" and the girl with the blonde hair looked up at me. \n\n\"Here,\" she said, then turned away to talk to one of her friends. I couldn't believe it. Could it actually be my wife reincarnated? I never believed in God, so I guess it could be a possibility. I did the usual easy first day lesson, and after class I told Caroline to stay after because I needed to talk to her about something. \n\nTen years later, and nobody has heard anything from either of us. We both went missing they think. I didn't think I could go any longer without the love of my life...", "Charlie pushes in his kitchen chairs nervously and takes a final look around the apartment to ensure that everything is in its proper place. He glances back up at the clock fidgeting with his tie and glasses.\n\n“Why aren’t they here yet? Wasn’t I friendly enough? Didn’t I seem responsible?” He asks himself out loud desperately. \n\nHe bites his lip and takes his favorite book from his small collection. He begins to read to distract himself and block out his thoughts; they were probably just running late after all. By the time he gets to page 15 he is already immersed in the story. As he flips a page, the doorbell rings and he jumps off the couch in surprise. He quickly checks himself in the mirror to ensure his hair and appearance is still perfect and practices his smile real quickly; he had to be perfect. \n\n He opens the door with a grin to greet Mrs. Doubt and her daughter, Paris. Mrs. Doubt smiles nervously and pushes her daughter into the apartment. \n\n“Thank you so much Mr. Taylors- especially on such short notice. I have never tried care.com before so I was worried. I’m going to call in an hour to check on you two but if you need me before then Paris has all my phone numbers and there is a list of her allergies in her backpack,” Mrs. Doubt rambles as Paris looks up at all the portraits around the small apartment. \n\nCharlie smiles trying to play normal, “Of course Mrs. Doubt, Have no fears.” \n\nMrs. Doubt smiles and shouts bye as she rushes off to wherever she was supposed to be. Charlie closes the door slowly and sees Paris still in her coat, hat, scarf, and mittens situated on the couch with his favorite book. \n\nHe takes a deep breath and says, “Hi Paris, my name is Mr. Taylors but you can call me Charlie or Char. Whatever you want. So I’ve got Uno and connect four and some movies like Twister, ICarly, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” \n\nParis looks up from the book slowly with a lollypop in her mouth and then says, “Do you really think I don’t remember you?”\n\nCharlie’s eyes widen and he apologizes vehemently, “I’m sorry, you’re just so young now- I wasn’t sure.”\n\nParis smiles, “I decorated this apartment and chose all these portraits. I recognized you as soon as you opened the door.” \n\nCharlie rubs his eyes, “I missed you Lizzy Lizard.” \n\nParis frowns, “That’s not my name anymore.”\n\nCharlie nods, “Sorry Paris… What nickname can I give you now?” \n\nThe young girl rolls her eyes and sits down in front of the movie collection to choose one. \n\nCharlie waits awkwardly, “I made a few changes since the accident…”\n\nParis looks up and grins, “I noticed, you’re actually wearing your glasses and you don’t look like a bum.” \n\nCharlie laughs, “Very true. I figured you would appreciate it. Do you want to take off your coat?” \n\nParis looks up for a minute awkwardly, “I’m only eleven years old now.” \n\nCharlie puts his hands in a defensive gesture, “Absolutely! I’m not- I don’t want that anymore! I just wanted to make sure you’re happy. Are your parents nice? Do they buy you nice things?” \n\nParis smiles, “Yeah nice enough. They gave me a Drocket for my birthday.” \n\nCharlie cocks his head, “A what?” \n\n“A Drocket? A phone,” Paris explains taking out her gift.\n\nCharlie looks at the brightly colored phone with a large touch screen, “What do you watch the wiggles on it?” \n\n“Fuck you,” Paris torts putting it back in her coat.\n\nCharlie laughs and shouts, “Hey! You’re not allowed to say that anymore! I’m going to take your Rocket away if you curse again.” \n\nParis laughs, “So what are you doing here still? Are you having fun?” \n\nCharlie nods and kneels next to her, “Yeah, I got a whole bunch of promotions. You remember Aaron, the old CEO? Fired! I got his job now and me and Drew and Evan all have offices. It’s great!” \n\nParis smiles, “What about your life? Do you have a girlfriend or anyone?”\n\nCharlie looks at her shyly and nods, “I’m married now. After the accident, I got things in order and stopped letting my dreams escape. I met a nice girl named Jane from Minnesota and we have a set of twins.” \n\nParis’s head snaps up, “MINNESOTA? Does she have a silly accent? What about your kids? How old are they?” \n\nCharlie shakes his head, “Jane’s accent is minimal because her dad is from New York. My kids are eight years old.” \n\n“How do you all live in this tiny apartment still?” Paris asks quietly. \n\nCharlie bites his lip, “We actually have a home in Connecticut, I hold onto this apartment in case I ever have to be here in the city for a couple of days. The kids have been by a couple of times, they’re on a tour of the city right now with their mom but I’m sure she’ll drop them off in a bit- she has work in like an hour.”\n\n“So she’s been here too?” Paris asks.\n\nCharlie sees the old flames of jealousy in his ex, “Paris, you’re eleven. Lizzy is dead, you can’t seriously be mad that I moved on.” \n\nParis rolls her eyes and thinks for a moment before nodding, “Fine Charlie. I’m not mad- I am happy because you’re happy even if Jane stole my apartment.” \n\nCharlie knows better than to argue, “Jane is very grateful for Lizzy’s good taste in decorating. She’s said it many times to me.”\n\nParis smiles not making eye contact, “Really?”\n\nCharlie nods, “Yes, Lizzy made me the man that I am. I owe you forever which is why I invited you here. If you ever need anything, at all, just call me. Understand?” \n\nParis nods silently as Charlie hands her a slip of paper with his phone number scrawled on it. She smiles and inputs the number in her Drocket. A single tear begins to fall from her face as the doorbell rings again. Before either one could get up to check, two bundles of energy burst through the door to attack Charlie.\n\n“DADDY! DADDY! Mom told us you would take us out for ice cream!” A little boy screams while hugging his father. \n\nCharlie frowns, “It’s snowing baby boy. Where’s my princess?”\n\nHe looks around and catches a baby girl hiding behind the couch and wrestles her into a hug. Paris chuckles as the little boy waves shyly at her. \n\nCharlie carries a small girl wrapped in a puffy pink coat and sits back down beside her, “Isadora, Lance, I want you to meet someone very special. We are babysitting her for the day and need to be friendly.” \n\nParis extends her hand to the small girl, “I’m Paris.” \n\nThe little girl shakes and Paris looks back up to Charlie, “I heard we were getting ice cream?” \n\nCharlie chuckles, “Let’s go get some hot chocolate kids!” \n\nThe children applaud and Lance challenges Paris to a race down the flights of stairs. Paris accepts waving to Charlie.\n\nCharlie smiles; Life had taken many twists and turns and as heartbreaking as some of them were, he was happy how things turned out. \n", "They say that a parent never gets over the loss of their child, and that was certainly true in my case. When my daughter was taken from me, it felt as though a hole had been ripped through my chest and I would never fully breathe again. Months later, trying to reintegrate with society, I went to see a medium with friends. I scoffed at the silliness of it all. After all, these people were tricksters, preying on the weak and grieving. She narrowed in on me, and I tried to laugh it off. What she said caused my heart to pound, but I’ll never forget. “You will see her again. Her name will be Abigail Rose. But you won’t really need the name, will you? You’ll just know.” \n\n...\n\nIt’s been five years since that day. My husband and I decided to try again and got lucky on the first try. Ryan is 4 now. He is the light of our worlds, but the ache of losing his sister still follows me. We’re heading to the playground to get some much needed outdoor time after the long, cold, brutal winter. We arrive and I settle myself on a bench, careful to keep an eye on Ryan while I skim some pages from the report I need to review before tomorrow morning. After a few moments, Ryan comes running up to me, asking for juice, introducing me to his new friend. “Mommy, this is Abigail! She lives right around the corner, and she’s 4, like me!”. I look at the girl, and my heart stutters. Staring back at me are the eyes of my first born. I can’t get a word out. I can barely move. Ryan, ever the ball of energy, keeps moving right along and runs back to play with Abigail. Abigail. My daughter. Stolen from me, now someone else’s daughter. \n\nI gather up our things and I call over Ryan and his new friend Abigail. I won’t be leaving here without both my daughter and my son. I can’t say goodbye again." ]	3
	[WP] A man is in a good mood, but his mood changes when he sees a four-leaf clover, which makes him realize that something horrible has happened...	[ "He laughed when he saw it. After all, the coincidence of it all was nothing short of astounding.\n\nHe reached out and plucked the clover from the bush it was sitting in, his fingers slightly greasing up the square of laminate protecting and preserving the charm from the elements. Laurel would just die when he told her this. After all, she had one just like it. Kept it with her wherever she went...hell, carried it in her hands wherever she went, her fingers pinching the corners as she absentmindedly spun the plastic rectangle with its little green jewel on a slow rotation along its diagonal axis. The only time she'd put it away was when they were holding hands...\n\nHe felt a bit of a pang in his heart. It wouldn't have worked...the distance was too far, they were too into their jobs...it just wasn't the right time. Someday, perhaps, but for now he just had to remember her smile or reread her occasional emails to feel a tiny bit of that warmth again...\n\nHis own smile froze on his face. There was something on the plastic surface of the card...droplets, red and rusted over. He brought the portable shrine to his face, squinting. Blood...?\n\nThere was a tingle of knowing...a terrible trickle dripping down from the back of his brain and sliding all the way to the base of his spine. He turned slowly towards the street, towards the insane intersection that even the natives of the city feared to cross. His eyes followed a horrifying trail of breadcrumbs from the sidewalk and up into the road...a single yellow pump that he'd seen a thousand times before...a floppy hat that he himself had purchased...a bruised and battered luggage piece on wheels, one that had truly seen the world, its stories relayed to him by its owner over candlelit dinners and from between sweat-soaked sheets...\n\nSNICK SNACK The sound of a gurney being loaded into the back of an ambulance, a glimpse of a tattoo winding along a blood-soaked forearm, a slam of double doors, and soon after a wailing siren, filling in for his breathless cry as the bus carried his love away...", "The short drunken man stumbled up the cobblestone pathway to his front door. He had forgotten how long he had spent at the bar but he left with a smile on his face. Brief flashbacks of a tall slender woman buying him drinks were sprinkled in the forgotten blackness of his memory. \n\nHis right foot caught the edge of a loose brick sending him tumbling into the bushes. After hoisting himself up, he peered in his living room window and the smile disappeared. There on the hardwood floor sat a solitary four-leaf clover. \n\nHe scrambled to dig the keys out of his pocket but they were missing. The girl from earlier was indeed too good to be true; she must have swiped them off him when they kissed. He pulled a spare key out of a small pot and unlocked the door. After tossing his hat on the table he rushed to his room. Everything was missing except for a few pieces of gold and a red balloon.\n\n“Damn it,” Lucky exclaimed. “Those pesky kids are still after me lucky charms.”\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are an astronaut on the ISS. You lose all communication with Earth and can only guess what is happening on your planet below.	[ "\"Hello? Houston?\"\n\nI said it again. The other astronauts and cosmonauts looked at me. They were scared. Something was wrong. Did some kind of war break out cutting off communications?\n\nWe looked out the closest window. The Earth was as beautiful as ever. A blue marble. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until Kevin screamed, \"Hey guys! Look!\"\n\nHe pointed to the left. It was outer hull of the space station. Floating in the void was shiny rod and rock fragments. The antennae broke. Damn..." ]	1
	[WP] In a future post-apocalyptic world, primitive societies have lost all knowledge of music. Someone stumbles across a compilation of history's greatest composers.	[ "Alright, next house.\n\nAnother day in a world in ruins, only way to survive is scavenging empty houses, and living on whatever you can find. \n\nI opened the door, but it basically broke in half. The house looked pretty old, so I guess I could forgive it. I went right for the kitchen. Bread? Uh, probably gone bad by now. Canned beans? Ehhh, not a fan, but I guess Jamie will like them. Aha! I hit the jackpot here. Nice tub of honey. Now I know, honey isn't exactly the most healthy thing I could find, but fun fact, honey is the only food that doesn't spoil. \n\nAlright, time to leave...\n\nSMASH!\n\nI tripped over something. I don't actually know what it is. What the heck? 'Alina's CD Player' was written on it with what looks like Sharpie. Um, OK. This is definitely new. I have never seen anything quite like it. I doubt it's edible, considering it IS made out of what looks like metal. What does that say at the top? 'Panasonic'? What the heck is that? It's got buttons, I guess. I probably should be careful with it, just in case it's dangerous or something.\n\nI started examining it closer, just to make sure it wasn't a mine or something. Those are pretty common in our world. Even if it was a mine, though, it isn't a very good one since it didn't go off. I finally decided that it was harmless, and well, played with it.\n\nWhat's this button here? It looks like a + sign. Uh, let's press it! And nothing happened...\n\nWhat about this square shape here? Didn't do anything either...\n\nWell, bollocks, this isn't a very useful device at all, it doesn't even do anything!\n\nAlright, last button on this thing, what is it? Some sideways triangle with a slash between it and some weird 2 rectangles next to it. Well, the other buttons didn't cause any harm, why would this button? So I pressed it.\n\nNothing happened, again. But something was making noise. It was definitely inside the house. I panicked for a moment. I came alone. \n\n\"Hello?\"\n\nI pulled my bat up just in case. I slowly walked around the house, through the kitchen, through the bathroom, through some of the bedrooms, and back to the living room. Nothing. BUT I COULD STILL HEAR THE NOISE! I was getting more frustrated than frightened. I went back to the 'Panasonic' and grabbed my stuff and almost left, but I found the source of the noise. It was the Panasonic! \n\nThere was a wire connected to the Panasonic. At the end of the wire, there was this, I can't really explain it, thing that was making all the noise. It had two sides, one with a circle thing on both sides. Those circle things were both making noise. I decided to pick up the thing, and listen closer to the noise. There was somebody talking, with some other odd noises in the background! That was kind of rude to make noises while somebody's talking. I listened closer...\n\n\"Because maybeeeeeeee, you're gonna be the one that saves meeeeee\"\n\nIs he talking to me? \n\n\"Hello? Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"-Alllllllllll, you're my wonderwalllllllllll\"\n\nI'm his wonderwall? \n\n\"Stop talking like that!\"\n\nThere was something about the way he was talking. He lengthened syllables, but I didn't mind. There was something about the sound, I couldn't really explain it, I was enjoying the sound! I don't know how to describe the feeling. The sound was good. Also, my attempts to talking to him were pointless, he was definitely ignoring me.\n\nI didn't notice at first, but the Panasonic was lighting blue all of a sudden. It had words on it, it said, \n\n\"Wonderwall - Oasis\"\n\nHey, it says Wonderwall! That was what the man in the Panasonic was saying! Maybe, they are linked to each other, I don't know, I'm still trying to make sense of it all. \n\nI didn't notice at first, but there were a few more buttons. One had two triangles sideways joined together facing to the right, while there was another button with the same symbol but facing to the left. I pressed the one facing the right, and all of a sudden, the man stopped talking. \n\nThe words all of a sudden changed in the Panasonic. \n\n\"Fur Elise - Beethoven\"\n\nHmm, interesting. Nobody was speaking this time. This time I heard some odd noises that differed in the way they sounded. They kept going from deep to high, but again I liked the sound. This was an odd machine. \n\nI took the Panasonic and all my other stuff and left. I left a marker on this house, in case I ever want to come back for some reason. I'm gonna show the Panasonic to Jamie, I think she will find it interesting too!\n\n\n", "All I was doing was scraping around the abandoned big box, while using my sharpened stones to carve in images. But as I was finishing my fifth drawing of my tribe's fifth annual mate hunt, I struck my toe against a smaller box. \n\n\nI wanted to throw the smaller box across the big box and let it smash into pieces, but it's beauty struck me. Despite the dust upon it, it looked like the marvellous fruit ladened growing sticks outside of my tribe's box. I crept over to it on my hands and feet, I blew the dust off and it seemed to grow more beautiful. I delicately picked it up, leaving a hand print of grime on it. \n\n\nI looked over the smaller box, and saw a line running around it. I placed my nails under it and pried it open. Instead of the box with a grey stick on a disc and a large red button. I held the box out at arm's length and pressed the button.\n\n\nThe disc began to spin, and sounds of mysterious air, rattling beads, and plucking filled the big box. A young man's voice began to speak, in a high pitch with little pauses between his words, he spoke of disagreeing with someone, he spoke of saying no when the person said yes. The man's voice and speech, although odd, seemed beautiful in a way so I rushed off to the camp, the smaller box raised above my head.", "The sound reverberated in this ears after each repetition the words rang louder, clearer and somehow truer. He enjoyed the solitude of the YE quarters he had broken into but the words reminded him of a mission that was forgotten so long ago it seemed as if a dream. He gathered the other survivors hiding in the Galleria Fortress,his fellow rebels. His eyes filled with a fire that hunger and war had stolen long ago. In front of the Tac Bell banner he made his intentions clear. \n\"We will not be live our lives being hunted like animals another day. It's clear that fear has ruled us. but live or die we must prepare for a final battle. Another round of shots.\" \n\nBloodlust filled the rebels as they realized they'd been hiding to protect lives they no longer lived. Each scrambled to their personal caches, collecting the few functioning weapons and meager ammunitions that remained. They geared up and for the first time in months they opened the doors. There was a troubling stillness in the air. Within minutes the regime's mechanical enforcers swarmed the entrance. A regime general hovered overheard in an aircraft. His voice boomed over the speakers. \"Surrender and turn down immediately if you value your lives. \nThe rebels charged without hesitation, their leader guns in hand screaming their new found motto. \n\"TURN DOWN FOR WHAT?\" " ]	3
Obviously some genres lends themselves to comedy or romantic levels, but try to be closer to the genre than those two.	[WP]: Write a couple's "This is how we met," love story but in a genre that is not romance or comedy.	[ "\nThat night I had dreams of super-heaven. Happy Monkeys climbing on shiny glitter rainbows was the image in my head. I smiled. Super heaven seemed like such a nice place. I tried to remember the rest of the dream, but it was already drifting off. I stood up and got ready for school. \n\nAll I could think about was the bizarre church from yesterday. I Googled cults and realized this might classify. My parents seemed hypnotized, I realized after mulling about it all day. It explained why we were there for two hours and it felt like five minutes. I looked up hypnotism, It seemed possible. Impatiently I sat through my classes. \n\nAfter school, I rode my bike to the Church. I parked it in the bushes by the Johnson's house and snuck around back of the solid white building. No one saw as I ducked into the shrubbery finding the only windows, on the ground with a basement view. The young pastor who had led the service was standing over another man waving a knife. \n\nSinking back into the couch, the scared blonde had his arms up defensively. \"Holy shit\" I muttered, transfixed. I couldn't hear the yelling, but he was pissed. I saw an arm get cut, as splash of blood, and then the pastor stormed off, leaving the man on the couch to cup his arm to his chest and cry. \n\nA footstep crunched beside me and I look into the most scared, helpless, prettiest eyes I've ever seen. It's a Blonde girl, about my age, in a light blue sundress. We lock eyes and then look inside at the man on the couch. He was using a pillow to stop the bleeding. \"I- uh, we should get out of here,\" I say to the pretty stranger. She nodded, and grabbed my hand. we ducked through the bushes, running as fast as we could. She led me down an alley into a backyard with a large gazebo and a trampoline. \n\nThat is how I met sheila. " ]	1
	[WP] A hobo reveals to you that systematically destroying their own life is the only thing keeping us all safe.	[ "Ahh, I finally found someone like me..\n\n\"Hello old chap, what are you doing lazing around here on this awful shitty of a day?\"\n\n\"Oh c'mon it isn't that bad, the rain feels nice and cool on this warm summer day! And it's like a free bath for me!\"\n\nHis crystal blue eyes gazed upon me as I felt the rain trickle down hair and onto the rim of my glasses. I looked up and realized this man was probably in a tough time in his life, not as if I'm any better off than him right now.. I wonder if he has somewhere to stay tonight..\n\n\"So what is someone like you doing out here?\"\n\nOh man, I really don't want to think about her right now..\n\n\"Just taking a long walk to get my mind off of things, it hasn't really been going to well for me recently..\"\n\nWhat am I doing? Do I really want to tell my story to a complete stranger? Maybe it's better if I tell it to someone that doesn't know me? Will it ease this sadness a little bit?\n\nAhh, who am I kidding, this guy is probably worse off than me. I should be taking pity on hi-\n\nI look up and realize his gaze is still upon me, as I look into that piercing gaze of his, I realize he doesn't see me at all. \n\n\"Are you blind?\" I stagger this thought out before I could stop myself. Dumbass\n\n\"Yes, I'm surprised you noticed it, most people don't even talk about it if they do notice it!\"\n\nOf course, who casually brings up that type of question to a complete stranger..\n\n\"Don't worry about me young man, this old man has lived his days to the fullest! Besides more importantly tell me your story!\"\n\nWhat? This man kind of reminds me of my dad, always being the controller of the conversation, never backing down, and always moving forward.\n\nWell I guess it can't hurt..\n\n\"My wife, Aika, is about 18 weeks pregnant with our first child. I've been putting in a lot of overtime recently so that we can get ready to get a house for our first child. I was ecstatic when she told me that she was pregnant. You know how everyone says 'It's like a dream come true!'? Well for us it was, my wife was thought to be infertile, it was a dream come true for us when we confirmed it with the doctor that she was pregnant.\"\n\nI let out an inwards sigh, it really felt good to tell my story to someone, it felt like he really was taking half the load off of me.\n\n\"But you see, recently there have been complications with the baby. The doctors are warning us about all these different outcomes. It seems as if though the baby won't make it. Aika and I are more than devastated, I really don't know how she will live if the baby doesn't make it. I feel like God is taking away a gift after he gave it to us. I don't want to imagine the sadness of losing our one and only baby. It would be devastating right? I would be sad! Aika would be sad! I don't want to see her cry! Haven't we both cried enough?\"\n\nMy face is red. I can feel my ears heating up. Anger is all I can think of. How dare He try to take away my baby?!\n\n\"You know, this world has been cruel to me. It seems as if nature itself won't allow me to have fun. I've lost my sadness, I've lost my happiness, I've lost my hate, and I've lost my love.\"\n\nYou aren't really making any sense old man. Maybe he means that he grew numb of them?\n\n\"After losing those that I held dear, the world took upon itself to ruin my life. My life has gone downhill after my first wife died. My kids all left me, I haven't talked to them since she died. My second wife took everything I had from me, never to be seen again. I tried to turn around my life. I joined the army and you know what that got me? These eyes.\n\nBut you see, it was all actually a gift to me.\"\n\nA GIFT? What the fuck is this man talking about! He has lost the only people he has ever loved and his fucking eyesight and he calls it a fucking gift? This man should be in an insane asylum!\n\n\"This gift is more important to others than my own well being. The worse off I am, the better off others are. Just as you shall be very shortly.\"\n\nThis man is not making any sense, I should really call some help to take him in.\n\n'My love for you is like a firework!'\n\n\"Hey baby, how are you!\"\n\n\"HONEY GET HOME QUICK, I HAVE GREAT NEWS ABOUT THE BABY!!\"\n\n\"Already on my way! Love you!\"\n\n\"Love you too, bye!\"\n\n\"Sorry old man that was the wife calling I got to go.\"\n\n\"Of course, go home, nice to meet you young man.\"\n\nWhat an interesting man, a bit crazy but he wasn't a bad guy or anything. Hopefully he will get some help\n\nAs I arrived home, Aika came out and hugged me and cried tears of joy. \n\n\"It's twins, I am going to have twins! They thought that one of the babies was a tumor but it was just another one! We are going to have twins Ryon! Twins!\"\n\nNever has my heart felt any more relief, I fell to my knees and thanked God immediately. As the sun beamed down on my face, I knew at that moment that today was a good day.\n\n\nLater that night the old man was walking down the road. As he was walking he saw a good place to lay down for the night. Right under the statue that he proposed to his first wife. The statue was still in place just as it had been 230 years ago when he first proposed. His blue crystal eyes were trying to form a tear but alas they couldn't, the pact that he made with God, or maybe it was the Devil, he no longer remembers who it was that put his life into shambles. He could take away anyone's problems as long he gave away something. His few last memories were fading into nonexistence. He wondered when he would die. He took a long look at the statue before laying down to sleep. As he closed his eyes for the night, he smiled as he had for every night since the pact began.", "\"Yes hon, I'll be home in time for dinner. Love you, bye.\"\n\nGerard placed the phone back on the receiver that stared at him emotionlessly from the corner of the giant mahogany table. In the spacious corner office on the 27th floor of the building, Gerard had made insane sacrifices to get to the position he was in. An office space reserved for high-level directors, Gerard had overcome all the odds that people had placed against him to become the director of IT for the company. It wasn't every day that a young black immigrant from the slums of Trinidad living in the projects of Washington D.C. could make it out of a life of poverty and crime, and yet here was Gerard, a director at one of the largest fortune 500 companies in the world. \n\nGerard sat back in the giant brown leather office chair. His short, but stocky and muscular five-foot-six-inch frame filled the chair comfortably, with the back of the chair rising comically tall over him. He took his glasses off with his left hand and placed them on the desk, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand. He had a meeting with the CIO tomorrow and would have to finish typing up the documents he was preparing to present as part of his new expansion strategy. The strategy that currently glowed at him brightly from across the desk on his computer monitor, half complete, with a cursor at the end of the document blinking at him.\n\nSitting back up and putting his glasses back on, he looked down at the clock in the corner of the screen. He had promised the wife that he would be home in time for dinner, and he knew better than to break that promise. As much as he had sacrificed to get to his position, he wasn't willing to sacrifice his life. Which is what he would be doing if he made his wife wait.\n\n5:45 PM\n\nQuickly scrolling through the document to see how much he had completed and estimate how much more he had left, he managed to guess that it would take him another 4 hours to complete. Opening his e-mail client and pulling up the calendar, he made sure that he didn't have any other pressing concerns and blocked out the rest of the evening. If he made it home by 6:30, he could have an early dinner with his wife and spend the rest of the evening finishing the plan, and hopefully would be ready for his meeting with the CIO in the morning.\n\nGerard quickly saved the document to a flash drive that he had produced from his briefcase, and packed everything back into it before logging off of his computer and moving swiftly to the coat rack in his office to gather his belongings. Checking each of his pockets and making sure he had everything, he donned his overcoat, closed his briefcase, and opened the large oak doors in the entrance of his office. \n\n\"Evening sir,\" a janitor standing in the hallway greeted.\n\n\"Good evening, Marco,\" Gerard nodded, bending around the rolling dumpster that Marco was emptying trash into.\n\n\"You're leaving earlier than usual today. Plans with the wife?\" Marco asked, placing the smaller trash can that he as emptying back on the floor of the cubicle that he was tidying up.\n\n\"Just a regular dinner. You know how it is with the women,\" Gerard said, walking backwards towards the elevators as he continued bantering with Marco.\n\n\"All too well!\" Marco called out as Gerard rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. The two of them shared a loud laugh down the hallway, and Marco returned to his duties, finishing the cleaning of the now completely empty office.\n\nGerard pressed on the cold, brushed aluminum faceplate of the panel on the wall next to the elevators. As he did so, a large down arrow lit up on it, and one of the elevators whirred to life. He boarded it unceremoniously, and checked his emails on his phone as it whisked him down to the first floor, making sure there weren't any fires that he needed to put out while he was still in the building. Normally everybody would've been out the door of the office around 5:00, barring some sort of emergency, and today was no different.\n\nWalking out of the elevator, Gerard looked around the empty lobby of the building for a moment, trying to decide which exit he wanted to take. Making up his mind, he placed his phone back in his pocket and strode out of the exit facing Rockefeller Street, planning on taking the subway home today. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of a dark shadow in the corner of his eye, from the corner by the entrance.\n\nJumping back and preparing to defend himself as he had to do so many times growing up, Gerard relaxed when he noticed that it was just a sleeping hobo, curled up in the corner with a cup on the ground in front of him, with various bits of change and trash filling it. He moved closer and leaned down to inspect the homeless man, and quickly decided that the man was not a threat to anybody nearby before standing back up. An obviously malnourished Caucasian face rested peacefully under a dingy blue jacket with greek letters on it probably just indicated that the man was down on his luck and wasn't willing to pose a threat to anybody to get the food he needed. Gerard had seen first hand what people were willing to do in impoverished situations while growing up, and this man certainly didn't look like anybody he had come across. He fished in his pockets for some spare change to leave the man, and was hit b y a sudden realization.\n\nHe looked back down at the homeless man, this time at his jacket rather than his face. He recognized those greek letters! They were his old fraternity letters in college! Gerard leaned down and inspected the man's face again. It wasn't a face that belonged to anybody he knew, but it was definitely a face that wasn't used to being exposed to the environments as much as it had lately. He reached over and grabbed the man by his shoulder with his left hand, and gently shook the man awake.\n\n\"Officer I wasn't eating I swear... \" the man grumbled as he opened his eyes, sitting up.\n\n\"Hey man, I'm not a cop. You're OK here as far as I'm concerned,\" Gerard said, standing back up.\n\nThe homeless man sat up fully and looked up at Gerard. Neither of them moved for a long moment as they stared at each other.\n\n\"Where did you get that jacket?\" Gerard asked, breaking the silence.\n\nThe man looked down at the letters printed on his jacket, and looked back up at the man towering over him.\n\n\"They gave this to us when I pledged at Cornell,\" the man finally said, as if he were remembering a distant memory.\n\n\"You were a brother of the Cornell chapter?\" Gerard asked, cocking an eyebrow.\n\n\"Yeah, class of 2002. Are you a brother as well?\" \n\n\"Northwestern, class of '04. What brings you to the sidewalk of my building? The brothers at the Cornell chapter are supposed to have the highest per-capita family incomes of anybody in the fraternity.\"\n\n\"Oh it's not that I don't have access to money,\" the man explained, standing up, \"but I have to stay out here, and continue making sure I never get my life back on track.\"\n\n\"Why's that?\"\n\n\"My dad. He's Senator Goodhart,\" the man said, producing a small glass pipe from his pocket.\n\nGerard took a step back.\n\n\"The guy that keeps proposing bills to euthanize people under a certain income bracket?\"\n\n\"Yeah, that asshole. Got a light?\"\n\nGerard dug his old zippo out of one of his pockets and held the flame up for the homeless man. As he watched the man take a few puffs from his pipe, he smelled a distinct sweet smell that he hadn't caught a whiff of since college, and closed the lighter when the man had fully lit his pipe.\n\n\"Dad's got this crazy plan in his mind where he thinks anybody not living up to his standards of success is disposable,\" the man continued explaining as he blew out the puff of smoke he had inhaled.\n\nGerard knew this all too well. He was one of the few people who actively contributed a significant amount to the campaign of the senator's opposition, just because of the ridiculousness of the man's claims when it came to economic mobility.\n\n\"I don't know what he doesn't understand about others not getting the same opportunities he got, he was born into his money. And when people challenge it he just gives one or two anecdotal examples of people who got lucky and had the chance to work their way out of poverty,\" the man said. He held out his pipe to offer Gerard a smoke. Gerard held up his hand and shook his head.\n\n\"Yeah man, he tried to use me in one of his campaign speeches once,\" Gerard quipped, with obvious annoyance in his voice. \"The man didn't realize that without all the extra help I got to get out of the hellholes I've been in, I wouldn't be the man I am today. Much less if I had been euthanized like his crazy plans called for.\"\n\n\"Right?\" the man agreed, nodding as he brought his pipe back to his mouth. \"So as long as I stay out here, as a homeless man, not doing anything with my life, dad can't seriously keep pursuing those stupid plans of his to kill people like me.\"\n\nGerard nodded. Fully understanding where the man was coming from, he reached into his pocket to produce his wallet.\n\n\"When's the last time you had a good meal, man?\"\n\n\"Don't,\" the man said, pushing Gerard's hand back into his pocket. \"The last thing I need is any of the good life. I'm gonna keep living my life as a useless bum, scrapping my what I can off of the leftovers of people's pockets, until my dad realizes how much of a friggin asshole he is.\"\n\n\"Well, at least let me give you some change in that case, man.\"\n\nThe man took a step back behind his cup, and watched as Gerard unloaded a pocketful of change into the cup.\n\n\"Thanks for the kindness. I didn't get your name earlier, what was it?\"\n\n\"Gerard. Gerard Chase.\"\n\nThe man held out his hand.\n\n\"Colin Goodhart. Good to meet you.\"\n\nGerard shook it firmly, picked his briefcase up, and proceeded towards the subway station.\n\nAs Colin watched the man disappear down the stairs, he looked at his cup, now overflowing with change. He laid back down and went back to sleep.", "“Good for you!” Someone shouted from the curb. \n\nLooking up from the puddle and my now-sopping new boots, I spotted a disheveled homeless woman watching me. \n\n“You just made someone’s life a little better!” She continued, clasping her hands together, a big grin on her face.\n\nI didn't usually interact with homeless people. I mean, it’s not that I’m a coldhearted bitch or anything, but there are just so many of them in the city they just kind of… blend into the scenery. I’d never actually been called out by one before, though. \n\nShaking the water off my feet, I walked over to the woman. If she was mocking me I’d just turn right around, but there was no trace of malice in her smile and that was intriguing. \n\n“I’m not sure what you mean?”\n\nHer smile got even bigger. \n\n“Are you talking about you? Did watching me ruin my shoes make your life better?”\n\nShe paused to consider my question seriously for a moment. Very seriously. \n\n“Hmmm… Nope!” Her big smile returned.\n\n“But I’m sure whoever it did help is very thankful.” She replied, sagely. \n\nI turned to leave this crazy woman, but she called out fervently and made me pause yet again.\n\n“Next time you’re feeling generous, try doing that on purpose!”\n\n“Sorry, I don’t believe in karma.” I replied with a shrug. \n\n“Ohh, not karma! At least, not the way most people see it. You won’t get any benefits for yourself, you can take my word for that.”\n\nQuickly, her mood seemed to change. Glancing both ways down the street, she leaned forward, as if to impart a great secret. I couldn't help but lean towards her myself. Now that I was closer, I could see she was missing two fingers on her left hand, and more than a couple teeth. I ignored the pungent scent of alcohol and body odor as her striking green eyes met mine. \n\n“Every time something bad happens to you, something good happens to someone else.”\n\nHer insistent stare rooted me to the spot.\n\n“I have done more good for the world than you or I will ever know.”\n\nSatisfied that she’d made her point, the haggard woman stood up, dusted herself off, and without another word wandered off down the street. I watched her amble around the street corner before I turned to leave myself, splashing directly through the puddle on my way. \n", "\"I used to be like you,\" the unkempt homeless man said to me. I rolled my eyes. Goddamn, this city gets more and more of them every day. Just let me wait for my bus in peace. \"I used to be like you,\" he repeated. He was leaning against the bridge column, obviously drunk. He reeked of booze.\n\n\"That's nice,\" I retorted, trying to be civil.\n\n\"You don't understand.\" Shit, he's escalating. \"I used to be exactly like you. You, and your fucking pea coat.\" He started laughing.\n\n\"I don't want to call the police,\" I warned.\n\n\"I wasn't always a worthless, drunk bum, you know.\" Fucking Christ, he just kept going. I nervously glanced up and down the street for a bus, for another stranger, for anything. \"I had a wife. And a kid.\" His voice wavered, trying to keep tears at bay. \"And I lost them. I lost everything.\"\n\nI was tired of pleasantries. \"Was it the booze?\" I said sarcastically.\n\n\"No, that was after.\" He was silent for a moment, his drunken, slurred thoughts practically audible. \"What do you do when you find out you're a monster?\"\n\n\"I'd probably kill myself.\"\n\n\"A time-traveler told me,\" he said. My off-color remarks were doing nothing to phase his little story.\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" I said, not hiding my non interest. God, I hope he doesn't stab me.\n\n\"I thought he was an angel at first. I woke up in bed after a bright light flashed in my room and a...man stood in front of me. He said to me, 'Senator, this is going to sound crazy-'\" He guffawed loudly, possibly realizing the irony of the statement. He was definitely going to stab me. \"He sat down and showed me video of me--from the future! I was...angry. And yelling! What the fuck was I yelling about? Anyway, lots of people are going to die in the future, he said, because of me. I was so confused. I don't want to hurt anyone!\" He began sobbing, reserved at first but then in full, snot-nosed bursts. \"So now, here I am. You're welcome.\"\n\nI was so focused on my personal safety and trying to keep him in my peripheral vision that I didn't notice the large bus coming until it stopped in front of me and opened its squeaky doors. \"Well, good luck to you, 'Senator',\" and I hopped on the bus. Taking my seat, I spared a moment to thank whatever deity for my current health. I had truly looked into the face of mental disease and its eyes were bloodshot." ]	4
Also, if you want to write about this Mars prison from another prospective than what I wrote in the title, you're welcome to.	[WP] In the future, criminals are sent to a colony on Mars because of overpopulation. You commit a crime to get away from the awful conditions on earth	[ "I turned to face the CivilEnforcer3000 and gesticulated wildly, \"She didn't even deserve the damn thing! It was a total snub of Jennifer --\"\n\n\"Beep boop, tell it to the judge.\" And with that, the clunky metal officer thrust me into a rusty capsule and slammed the door behind.\n\nHis programming was imperfect - I had already told the judge everything, and she had given me my sentence. An indefinite stay on Mars, toiling at the construction of a habitation suitable for the non-criminals to come. \n\nAs I strapped myself into a bucket seat on the floor, I checked out the other four inmates already in place and smirked at them. I had read in my research that it was important to establish dominance early on. \n\nAbruptly, the tattooed gentleman to my right snarled and said, \"the fuck are you looking at?\" \n\nStartled, I just tried to maintain composure. I would have to remain convincing until we had lifted off. Smiling, I turned to my new friend and said, \"Bitch, I'm looking at your nasty face and wondering how best to fuck it up.\"\n\nThe other two inmates made oohs and aha, but this guy just looked at me and said, \"I'm here because I shot five assholes like you in the face. What did you do?\"\n\nTaken aback, my face registered shock. I was under the impression this program was for nonviolent offenders only. I assumed the other inmates would be robbers and white collar criminals, or that they had intentionally done it to escape their crumbling slums, like me. I could hear a countdown starting outside. Too late to turn back now. \n\n\"I, uh, I raped two guys like you and, uh, ate their eyes out and --\"\n\n\"Hey,\" one of the other inmates shouted, over the sound of the engines beginning to fire, \"I recognize you from the news. You didn't kill nobody!\"\n\nI froze. Shit, I knew I shouldn't have gone on that media blitz, but I thought it was the only way I'd be exiled. \n\nLaughing, the inmate yelled, \"He's the guy who stole Miley Cyrus's Oscar! The one she got from that porn movie!\"\n\nThe thrusters fired and we were flung back in our seats, but I could see out of the corner of my eye the look of rage and glee in the face of my new comrade. I leaned back and let the utter horror of what I'd done wash over me, watching the clouds fly by outside for the last time. ", "The capsule was time locked. To open it before the date inscribed would destroy the contents. It was one of the old relics - a piece of the fall of Earth. The Earth was hopelessly backwards - overpopulated - polluted. It died. For over one hundred years the Earth has been silent. Astronauts from the Martian Aeronautics Mission (MAM) had brought the capsule back from the wreckage of an old city. The time was up, the capsule was ready to be opened. \n\nOnce opened, a holographic figure of a man appeared...\n\n\"My name is Jax Muldorf and I am recording this at the Martian Penal Facility. I don't know if this will reach you, in fact I doubt it will, but I hope it does.\n\nI should let you know that I'm a secret reporter for the Underground, the last free human newspaper on the planet. I've used fake credentials to fake a reputation as a business leader who was embezzling billions of dollars from his company. It wasn't long before the police rounded me up and sent me here - to prison.\n\nWe've all been told of the horrors of the Martian colony and I'd never have expected what I've seen here. Not in a a million years.\n\nThe whole thing, I think, was a lie from the get-go.\n\nThink about it for a second. The whole premise seems odd: criminals are going to be frontiersmen and colonize Mars. Why would we trust criminals to do that? And then the so-called accident of the Titanic Space Transport (TSP) which cost the lives of every single prisoner being transferred to Mars.\n\nAnd how did we all come to accept so readily the De-criminalization of almost every act. That or the 'instant retribution' that goes against everything humanity has stood for. This reporter is, personally, in favor of execution for murderers, but to automate the system with cameras in every house and every street - to force people to watch as citizens are gunned down by automated defense systems... it's just so barbaric. And everything else is pretty much ok - just a ticket. The only prison offense these days are the white collar crimes - embezzling, falsifying financial documents, corporate espionage.... we were happy to get these low life executives off of our planet.\n\nAnd the corporation-owned news media fed us like a baby. Every line about the horror and hard work and terrible conditions of the Mars Colony were a complete lie!\n\nI tell you now, to anyone who might intercept this broadcast, that the Mars Colony is not a penal colony - it is a resort! I have thus far been treated like a king, with conditions never before seen on Earth. The enviro-dome surrounding the compound has been set up with projectors to look like beautiful blue sky. The beaches are pristine - the water is pure and warm. The food... oh God, the food.... they grow their own crops here - GROWN crops, not processed chemicals. And chickens, and cows, and pork... oh I've heard tales of bacon but they don't do it justice.\n\nOf course, it's not all beaches and dinners; new arrivals, which included about fifty on my transport, are expected to work for ten hours a week for the first two years of being here. Those who have been here beyond that two year period are free from any daily responsibilites.\n\nOf course there's also a full set of 'prison workers' who, in reality, are mechanics and engineers, carefully planning and designing this 'prison' to meet the needs of their customers... er, their prisoners. They've got their own city up here - totally unknown back on Earth. They live in homes spread out and only one family per house. They have leisure and they, too, grow crops and raise animals. I've even spoken to one who said that he raises dogs not as food but as loved family pets.\n\nSo there is my evidence. My evidence to support the most damning of claims: the prison system of Earth is a farce. It was designed as an escape from the overpopulation of Earth. Only the wealthy know about it and purposefully commit crimes to be sent here. In short, the rich are buying paradise while the rest of us on Earth are left to fend for ourselves in terrible conditions.\n\nBeing a reporter, I had to let the truth be known. And when and if this reaches the people of Earth in two hundred years, I will be long gone. You see, while I feel for the people of Earth I've come to the realization that I'm no longer among them. This life of luxury is too much to pass up. To all my fellow reporters at the Underground - if you're still in operation by the time you hear this - I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough to resist what I found here.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] Valentine's Day from the perspective of a Chocolate Box.	[ "Today is it. I heard about it from the guys in the factory. I'm scared. No, I'm terrified. This is the end and there's nothing I can do about it. Millions of us. Every one of us completely alone as we all face our end. Some have it worse than others though. I know what's coming. I know my guts will be taken from me piece by piece. I know that I will watch the Others slowly eat me. I know that my consciousness will slowly fade. That will make it easier as it happens. The more they take the less I will notice until I am nothing but a cardboard shell. For now though, I will sit here in this dark room propped up on a pillow forced to watch and wait for my killers. ", "The yearly reaping was approaching. \n\nThe old chocolates had told me the stories. They told me of the loss of their friends, their brothers. That is, before they were picked too. Some were lucky. There were the obscure chocolates in the glassed display box next to us. No one ever touched them. Everyone around me knew what was coming. There was nothing to do but to wait and hope.\n\nI am stirred by a light. The store manager has come in to start the day, his eyes glowing, for he knows of the profits to come from this day. It was February 14th, \"Reaping day\" as we called it. Everyone fears for their life. \n\nIt has begun. The men are approaching. Those men that choose our fate. Those men that pick for us; do we live, or do we die? At first, I am lucky. I'm not chosen. I witness all the boxes around me, picked off one by one, or in mass. It was a horrid sight to behold. Do these men not know how they act? I cannot tell their thoughts. I can only think for myself, if I will survive this day or not.\n\nThe end of the day approaches and I am relieved. It seems I've made it. But, there, approaches one last man, rushing in as the manager starts to close. I am horrified. I am the only chocolate left in my display box. Inevitably, I am chosen.\n\nHow will fate treat me? What shall be my demise? There is no longer fear of what is to come.\n\nThere is only anticipation." ]	2
	[WP] A mermaid with a horrific collection.	[ "She swam as fast as she could towards her secret cove, where a collection of wonderful treasures awaited her. Her parents warned her that her hobby was dangerous, and that she should stay away from humans, but they simply fascinated her. The cove was far from home, located in a deep trench. It was inconvenient, but necessary to preserve the secret from her friends and family.\n\nIt was absolutely forbidden to be seen by humans, as it would put her whole race in danger. According to her parents, mermaids had been hunted to near extinction almost a hundred years ago. Those that remained swore an oath of secrecy, and mermaids became all but a myth to the mouth-breathers. Even then, pollution caused by the humans still posed a threat to mermaids, and all other forms of life under the sea.\n\nThe young mermaid propelled herself forward, rapidly approaching the abyss. It had been a long time since she last gazed at her collection, she needed to make sure it was all still there.\n\nBefore she arrived, however, she noticed a burning ship floating at the surface of the water. Burning sailors cried out in agony, and the more fortunate simply gurgled as they drowned. Without hesitation, she changed course for the ship. If she could salvage just one of the men, it would be worth the risk.\n\nBy the time she swam all the way to the surface, she could only find one survivor. She swam up to him, and grabbed onto his arms, helping him stay afloat.\n\n\"Who... who are you?\" he said, entranced by her beauty. \n\nInstead of replying, she simply giggled, and dragged him under the waves, towards her deep abyss. At first he struggled, but the water filled his lungs and he stopped resisting, just like they always did.\n\nShe dragged the lifeless body into her secret cove, and the local fish began to nibble on the soggy flesh. Soon, they would pick it clean, and she could add it to her collection. She decided to let them eat in peace, and went to fetch the other corpses. They burned ones would be no good, she decided, but the ones who drowned were pure.", "There once was a beauty,\n\nShimmering, rare.\n\nShe had a collection\n\nAnd kept it in there.\n\n...\n\nThe deep, dark waters\n\nWhere no one would go.\n\nShe liked the silence.\n\nHer collection could grow.\n\n...\n\nOnce in a while\n\nA man would swim by.\n\nA fire would light\n\nIn the depth of her eye.\n\n...\n\nShe could out-swim him,\n\nFor she had a tail.\n\nAnd where his would be,\n\nWas her Holy Grail.\n\n...\n\nWith the teeth of a shark,\n\nHis ankles she gnawed.\n\nWhy did he swim here?\n\nO Poseidon, my God!\n\n...\n\nShe ripped and she tore\n\nThrough ligament, bone.\n\nHer prize was a pair,\n\nNot one on it's own.\n\n...\n\nAnd when they would ask her,\n\n\"Why, Ariel, why?!\"\n\nShe'd tilt her head\n\nAnd let out this reply:\n\n...\n\n\"My father was human\n\nAnd he fucked a whale.\n\nNow I'm a creature\n\nAll covered in scale.\n\n...\n\n\"I see them swimming,\n\nAll wriggling toes,\n\nAnd the monster inside me says,\n\n'You deserve those.'\"\n\n...\n\nThis is my first time posting in this sub so please be kind :)" ]	2
	[WP] Make me hate the main character. Then make me like him/her.	[ "He woke up with a gentle yawn, blinking rapidly, lazily as light poured into his room. It was a fantastic way to begin the day, under warm sheets, a soft pillow and...\n\n\n\"Timothy!? Where the hell were you last night? You get down here right now!!!\"\n\n\nAnd of course the screaming of the maternal power of the house. Matriarch, more like it. The ungrateful bitch didn't even deserve this house that she lived under. What was she to me? he thought. Flipping over the sheets, I placed my feet on the rug.\n\n\nA nice maroon polyester rug, it was bought several years ago. A time long lost in time. Timothy stretched and ignored the screams and shouts by his mother. It had been several nights in a row that he had come in past his designated curfew, dark circles around his eyes. \n\n\n\nIt was exactly 3:23PM.\n\n\nHe opened his laptop and loaded up his email. Another fourteen messages. Wiping away his unbrushed hair, he read the first few emails. \n\n\nIt was 3:30PM.\n\n\nHe got his work clothes on, McDonald's uniform. Smelling of grease and stained with cola, he picked up his back back and tucked in the shirt, lazily of course. Making his way down the stairs, he didn't even try to hide his presence.\n\n\n\"I'll be late again tonight.\"\n\n\nThe mother, livid with a red face of hot iron repeatedly yelled at him. All he replied was, \"Love you too.\"\n\n\nHe walked out the door.\n\n\n---\n\n\nHe didn't have a shift at McDonalds. He never even worked there. It was a ploy to get out of the house for preparation for the night. It wasn't the cleanest of work, but it had become a passion. Reading people left and right, the slightest of twitches, the sharp intake of air, the slight tremble of chips.\n\n\nWorst of all, Timothy was an addict.\n\n\nPreparation was simply to hit up the local casino, win a few rounds, meet up with local card dealer and by 8:00PM get kicked out for chatting too much. Very little was made here. The entire exercise was to warm his fingers up, make him more aware. He didn't even eat, and when he did, it was something he might knick.\n\n\nAround 9:00PM, he would head back downtown, mostly where the more local games were. Run by a few wanabe gansters, they kept largely to themselves, didn't play and played by the rules. When the Italians firebombed their bar, they never forgot to pay insurance. Timothy, or to his late night compadres, Tim, was there when the bar was firebombed. \n\n\nHe barely escaped.\n\n\nIt was 11:51PM. He walked in with a new set of faces. A mixture of degenerate theives, card players and corrupt cops. This was his territory. The cop was still in uniform, but everyone knew his game. If he was committed to calling the troops in, he would go out for smoke, a little too long. \n\n\nThe elderly gentlemen began shuffling the cards. Eddie, an old timer with nothing better to do than rustle a few jimmies was a neutral with silver hair, sharp defined features of an old trucker. He wore denim jeans and a maroon jacket.\n\n\nThe younger fellow with a stick so far up his arse was a suburban kid. Easy game with a whole lot of money. He'd be down so quickly, he will think that a train screwed him.\n\n\nThe new comer, a Mafioso from Siberia, large beard, black suit, tie and shoes. Serious business, serious money. Trying to get on the Italians' turf.\n\n\nEddie began dealing. The game had begun.\n\n\n\"The stakes are $10,000 minimum, $5,000 dollar buy ins until the allotted time of 20 minutes. We all know Hold'em, so let's make this clean boys.\" Eddie's soothing voice was a miracle on it's own, given his age.\n\n\n\"I'd like to make things interesting. Minimum of $50,000 Eddie?\" Tim responded.\n\n\nNervous glances were exchanged. The suburban kid shat himself.\n\n\nTonight was going to be interesting.\n\n\n---\n\n\nHis eyelids were sore. The pillow was soft, the blankets warm. the only thing was the shrill noise of his mother. Timothy tossed and turned.\n\n\nFinally, his bladder said otherwise and he finally erected himself enough to stretch. He glanced at his backpack, a small opening showing his earnings.\n\n\nAt least we have the mortgage money for this month down.\"", "(This is a small part of a much larger story I have been working on for some time. This story is ultimately incomplete. WARNING: LONG RESPONSE)\n\nTerrick Dah’Roh hung from the rafters on three lines of silk. Terrick preferred silk due to its strength and the silence with which it moved, unlike the creaking ropes he’d used climbing the Dwerret Mountains years ago. Looking down, he could see the families gathered in the great hall were enjoying a party of some kind. Terrick hated these people with a cold fury that he felt would turn hot if left unchecked. He smiled as men, women, and children gathered around the table to be seated, waiting for the hostess to taste the food. The old woman sat at the end of the hall and take a bite of every dish and a sip from every bottle that was to be served. After waiting nearly a minute, the hostess stood and seated herself in accordance with local etiquette to signify that the meal was safe to eat.\n\n“You fucking nobles,” Terrick fumed to himself, “poison is not my tool of choice tonight, but by the end of the night you’ll wish it was.” Terrick decided it was time to make the final adjustments to the firing mechanisms he had attached to the cross beams and walls. The smaller children would require a much lower aim. after adjusting the aim, Terrick needed to set the tension of the trip wire which he meant to use as a trigger.\n\nChildrens’ laughter echoed through the hall as the people below ate their meal, turning Terrick’s forced calm into a silent rage. Terrick shakily prepared his knives in case any of the darts malfunctioned or missed. He nearly threw one of the knives when he heard a little girl loudly complaining, “Mother, I wanted the leg! Jestey took my favorite part!” Terrick struggled against his fury, waiting for the servants to finish their work and return to their quarters. Terrick would deal with them later.\n\nBefore pulling the line, Terrick waited for the hostess to call a toast as he knew she did every night. As if on queue, the woman slowly stood and held her glass of wine up in front of her. The families slowly stopped talking and started to look towards their hostess. The silence spread through the room like some horrible shadow of death, a silence so profound that even the youngest children looked to the hostess in anticipation. The hostess took a deep breath and Terrick pulled the wire. The hostess’s blood curdling screams of horror drew guards from across the city, but not before Terrick could slip down on his silk lines and slice her throat open. Whispers of Terrick’s hatred carried the woman to her death.\n\n~~~\n\nThe next day news traveled through the city faster than Terrick had thought possible. All around him people were gossiping and shouting. \n\nAt noon the entire city gathered in the market in front of the castle to hear the final reports from the Head of the Guard. Terrick waited off to the side of the crowd, hiding his smile. At last the man in armor stepped onto the balcony overlooking the market.\n\n“News of the deaths of many noble families has undoubtedly reached everyone gathered here. The means by which they were killed has been greatly exaggerated, though I’m afraid the worst details most of you have heard are factual. Seven noble families gathered for a feast last night at the house of Wrena Gen’Ra. In total thirty-six people were found dead, sixteen men, thirteen women, and seven children.” Gasps and whispers from the crowd started and shockingly stopped as the man removed his helmet to reveal red eyes filled with tears. “These families were found dead around the table with crossbow bolts protruding from their chests. Wrena Gen’Ra was at the head of the table with her throat slit and the symbol of the Drek’Sa Varri carved into her chest.” Murmurs started then at the mention of the assassin’s guild. “This horrible crime, however, is to go unpunished,” the man on the balcony was visibly shaking, the sounds of his clattering armor reached the back of the market as he paused and started again, “is to go unpunished as the nobles were found to be eating their own servants!” The man could barely contain his horror then, as his knees shook too violently for him to stand straight. Dah’Roh winced at the memory of roasted peasants displayed on the tables like roast pigs at a feast. “Reports from the surviving servants tell stories of fear for their lives as they were forced to carve their friends’ body’s for the culinary pleasure of their masters! One of these men told me that he often heard the noble children arguing over which servant tasted the best! These sadistic parties account for nearly all of the unsolved missing persons cases opened for the past five years! I’m so sorry that we did not know! I’m so sorry!”\n\nThe sobbing man was carried to his seat by his men. Screams from those who had just learned the fate of their missing families pierced the air. The king approached the balcony and called outer the wailing crowds, “if the assassin of the Drek’Sa Varri, the Dark Protectors, is present, I would like to thank him or her for the assistance in meting out justice for my people! I would also like to invite you to a private meal in my chambers tonight to discuss your guild’s future in my kingdom! I suspect that you know the way in!” The king then turned away and returned to his duties. The guards above looked uneasy at the king’s words while the people below dispersed to grieve and complete the chores that must be finished that day.\n\nTerrick cried silently for his dead family that those nobles had murdered years ago. He silently thanked whatever gods may hear him that they had not started eating human flesh at that time. Terrick kissed his wife’s ring which hung around his neck and adjusted his son’s dagger on his belt. The king would have to wait for a night that Dah’Roh was not busy.", "The harsh morning light crept into a room where red solo cups and brown glass bottles laid scattered across white shag carpet. The air smelled strongly of dank weed and vomit. On the nearby brown leather couch, a naked, bruised young woman sat up staring at the wall. She looked focused as she tried to piece together the previous night.\n\nA young man with an unkempt blonde goatee stepped into the room. He wore a faded tank top and Captain America boxers. He lazily looked over at the naked young woman with a smirk.\n\n\"You had fun last night,\" he said. \"I enjoyed your sloppy strip show and even sloppier blow job.\"\n\nHe winked at her and licked his lips. The young woman's cheeks darkened and she looked away, her memories of the night were now starting to return.\n\nThe young man walked slowly over to a corner of room, picked up her clothes, and promptly threw them at her.\n\n\"Now get out.\"\n\nShe quickly threw on her clothes. \n\n\"Thank you, Chris,\" she said softly as she left.\n\nChris watched the door slam behind her, then started to pick up the bottles and cups. He almost instantly regretted telling her to leave. Now he was left to clean up after the party. \n\nChris did not throw parties. His work generally kept him busy. Most importantly, work kept his mind from wandering and remembering. He only had one once a year as a distraction from his wife's death. She was his everything. Unfortunately, she suffered from chronic depression and no matter what she tried, she never felt better. \n\nOne day, Chris came home to find her dead in their marital bed. She had shot herself in the head, leaving behind a distorted letter, begging him to be happy now that he was free of her. \n\nSo every year he threw a big, lavish party to achieve her dream for him. ", "He was alone in the room with the young women. It was his time to shine his time to do what was... Right? He slowly inched to the woman, she started crying. He heard choppers in the background. Oh shit, he better finish fast. He pulled out a gun and laughed, it was now his chance. He would not let this moment pass by like last time. Oh last time. He should have finished it there and then. It would have been the end. He pointed it her and BLAM. \r***\rHe was outside now, he heard cheering. The chief of police walked up to him and said, \"My good man, you have done this town a great deed.\" Heh. An group of people walked up to him. They said: \"Thank you for avenging my husband or the terrorist will not trouble us anymore.\" He smiled, his wife was a victim, but now she may rest in peace. ", "He slept without a fire. Apparently, he had ran until the sun went down and crawled under a fallen tree in an attempt to hide. Still, at least he made an attempt.\n\n\n\nI dismounted my horse. I searched through my pack and pulled out my rope. I tied a knot around the saddle horn and began walking toward the tree. I had just finished tying a loop in the rope when I ducked under the fallen boughs. \n\n\n\nThe man was sprawled out on his belly. Even in the dark, I could make out the whip scars on his dark skin. He was very tall and muscular, even for a slave. Good stock. I could see why his master wanted him back. I carefully slipped the loop over his head and tightened it as best I could without waking him. \n\nI grabbed the horse's reins and began leading him toward the plantation. The sound of twigs breaking and screaming pierced the night. After a few hundred feet and a few hundred profanities later, I stopped the horse and drew my gun.\n\n\n\n\"Listen nigger, this can go on all the way to Mr. Hawking's plantation. If so, there is a high possibility you will perish before we get there. I will get paid more if you are returned alive. So, if you will kindly get up and lead the way....\"\n\nIf looks could kill, I would surely be a dead man. Luckily for me, they don't. I just gave him back a nice bright smile. \n\n\n\nA few days later, we arrived back at the plantation. Mr. Hawking was sitting on the front porch in a rocking chair when we arrived. He shot up from the chair with an angry grin plastered to his face. \n\n\"Well done, sir! Well done!\" He walked straight to his lost property. He winded up and delivered a powerful uppercut that lifted the slave off the ground. \n\n\n\n\"Always, Mr. Hawking. Now, to the matter of my payment. I believe we agreed on thirty-five dollars?\"\n\n\n\nHe shoved his hand into his front pocket and handed me a crumpled ball of dollars. I unfolded them all. He had payed in full. I reached into my own pocket and retrieved thirty-five dollars of my own.\n\n\n\n\n\"Here you are, Mr. Hawking, seventy dollars. I believe that to be more than enough to purchase this fine slave of yours.\"\n\n\n\n\"Surely you can't be serious!\"\n\n\n\n\"Very serious, Mr. Hawking. I want to be the one to show him the consequences of his actions.\"\n\n\n\n\"As much as I would enjoy it myself, I cannot turn away from a bargain. He is yours. If you will let me watch...\" \n\n\n\nI nodded. The smile on his face grew as he took the money. I walked over to the man on the ground. His breathing was shallow. All the fight in him was gone. I took off the rope from his head and grabbed him underneath his arms. I heaved him upward and helped him to stand. Days of walking had ate away at his legs. He could not help but to use me as a leaning post. \n\n\n\n\"What is your name, nigger?\"\n\n\n\nHe took a deep breath. \"William.\"\n\n\n\n\"Well William, you are no longer the property of Mr. Hawking. I am your new master.\" I felt his muscles tense and watched his eyes grow wide. \"As your master I am bound to deliver to you the consequences of your actions as I see fit. You tried to escape. You found the courage to attempt to cross into the north, knowing what punishment you would endure if you were captured. As such, I therefore release you. You are free.\"\n\n\n\nBoth William and Mr. Hawking gasped. I walked William over to my horse and helped him climb on. All the while Mr. Hawking was cursing me and all that I own. I turned toward him and gave him a smirk. His face turned a bright red and he started to charge toward me. I effortlessly pulled the gun from my belt and shot him in the leg. He collapsed into the dirt. \n\n\n\nI led the horse away from the plantation. William had fallen asleep as soon as he was mounted. I doubt he even heard the gunshot.\n\n\n\n\n\n", "He lifted the blade and swung. Blood spewed out as a head separated from a body. The body fell with a thunk and he breathed out swiftly. The adrinaline flowed through him. His eyes still filled with fury. He didn't even care it was a child, or even if it was a little girl. Her pink dress soaked through with even more blood. Her own life gone so quickly. He had won though and it felt great. Her parents, chained to the wall looked on horrified. The man walked toward the parents the blade in his hand gripped so tight his knuckles had turned white. When he got close to the pair he swung and his blade met it's target.\n\n\nThe man followed the girl. Only it was no longer the innocent brunette child from before. It was a creature dark and twisted. Her pink dress clung to her soaked through with blood. Moments before the child had almost got away from the demon. The demon he was hunting. The demon would inhabit a child's body and torture the parents. Stealing bits of their soul until there was nothing left. The child who once inhabited the body was no more. The shrill cry that fell from the small girl as the dark being took over made that clear. That was a month ago and he had finally tracked her again. He quickly made his way down the steps and now stood face to face with the girl. The creature growled and jumped toward him. He was able to kick it back with his foot and swung his blade separating the head. That was sadly the only way to ensure the demon was gone. The parents had a look of fear. He understood. Even though that was clearly no longer their loving daughter they knew she looked like it. He had to kill his own son for the same reason. He walked closer and swung the blade breaking the bindings on the two. The woman cried and the husband held her muttering under his breath soothing words that he hardly seemed to believe. Things would not be easy for them, not anymore, but they were alive. His job was far from perfect, but it's what he was good at.", "Give me that.\n\n> What did you say?\n\nPudding from your lunch.\n\n> No way.\n\n---\n\nDo you wish a sudden trip?\n\nA fattened lip or broken hip?\n\nOr maybe we could chat all day.\n\nJust give it to me now.\n\nOkay?\n\n---\n\n> This lunch is mine.\n\n> It is divine.\n\n> My mother made it.\n\nThat is fine.\n\n---\n\n> And I will eat it.\n\nYou will not.\n\n> You are a big mean shouts-a-lot.\n\n---\n\nDo you hang with Beverly?\n\n> Never! She is in grade three.\n\n> I would never ever talk.\n\n> Or play.\n\n> Or sit.\n\n> Or even walk.\n\n---\n\nWell I think that is mean of you.\n\n> Now I am mean?\n\n> Well that makes two!\n\n---\n\nShe is not well.\n\nShe does not eat.\n\nShe lives outside on Shooter street.\n\nHer mother works.\n\nAnd works.\n\nAnd sings.\n\nAnd Beverly does not have things.\n\n---\n\nAnd still she walks.\n\nAnd comes to school.\n\nBut she has nothing.\n\nZero cool.\n\nSo I will ask you one more time.\n\n> For pudding?\n\nYes.\n\n> But it is mine!\n\n---\n\nThen I shall go.\n\nWith all you know.\n\nTo suffer in your after glow.\n\nOf chocolate covered pudding face.\n\nAnd lack of class and lack of grace.\n\n---\n\n> I feel bad.\n\nAnd so you should.\n\nI offer you a chance for good.\n\nTo comfort one of us in need.\n\nBut you have only pudding greed.\n\n---\n\n> Give her this?\n\nThat is a fruit.\n\n> It is a ripened raspbaloot.\n\n> Fairest fruit in all the land.\n\n> I will not eat it.\n\nThat is bland.\n\n---\n\nSo I see.\n\nWill leave you be.\n\nAnd go to beg for Beverly.\n\nAnd hope that you run into me.\n\nOutside the school at half past three.", "Drip… drip… drip…\n\nThe rain pattered on the roof. The house was freezing cold and the curtains blew in the breeze, the front door swung wide open and a few windows shattered.\n\nThe man stepped over the broken glass, a few shards crunching beneath his feet. His hands were bloody, his coat stained with their blood. The woman crawled on her hands and knees into the kitchen, trying to escape him, but she continued to slip on the blood pouring out of her cuts. She slipped and wriggled as she tried to lean herself against the counter and stand up, trying to grab one of the knives, but the knife wound in her stomach made it impossible. She fell back to the ground and a puddle of blood began to form around her.\n\n“Jacob, we’re family, I’m your sister!” the woman screamed. “Please, please…”\n\nHe sliced her throat quickly, stepping over her dying body to make his way upstairs. Tears and blood were all that remained on her face, the rest of her life gone completely.\n\nJacob could see one of the bedroom doors cracked open. He knew exactly what he had to do. The floorboards creaked as he neared the room. He slowly pushed the door open, grabbing a gun tucked behind his shirt. He could hear the panicked breathing, the chattering of the teeth, and he could see the closet. It was cracked open ever so slightly.\n\nJacob stood still in front of the closet, opened it to reveal the woman’s son standing there, and looked at him for a moment. The child was sobbing, tears and snot running down his face, a fresh black eye from what had happened when Jacob entered the house. A puddle of urine started to form under him as Jacob pulled the trigger.\n\n***\n\nIt had been 10 years since Jacob had done what needed to be done. 10 years since he killed his own sister. He sat on the front porch swing and watched the sunset. After that incident, he had quit. He couldn't do it anymore. The agency couldn’t blame him either.\n\n“Hi Mr. Wilson” a teenage girl said. She had run up the long drive on his farm and was standing on the steps, looking up at him with a bright smile.\n\n“Hi Sarah,” Jacob replied. “You can call me Jacob you know.”\n\n“Oh,” she said, blushing. “Listen, is Jimmy around? I was just…”\n\n“Jimmy!” Jacob yelled, too lazy to get up from his porch swing. “He’ll be along in a minute Sarah.”\n\n“Thanks,” Sarah said, her eyes focussed on the ground.\n\nA minute later Jimmy came running out of the house, grabbed Sarah and kissed her, then waved goodbye to his uncle as they ran off down the driveway towards his car.\n\n“Be back by ten!” Jacob shouted.\n\n“Fine,” Jimmy huffed from a distance. “See you later dad!”\n\nJacob opened the bottle of pills, popped a couple meds into his mouth, then chugged them down with his beer. Jimmy looked so much like Jacob’s sister. The resemblance was uncanny. He still couldn’t believe his sister, trying to kill him to the very last breath. If he hadn’t killed her, the knife she had managed to find would have certainly found its way into himself. But of all the things he regretted, he hated having to kill Jimmy’s father right in front of him. What sort of father uses his own son as bait? But in the end all that mattered was that Jimmy was safe, away from the parents who abused him and hurt him. Even if it cost Jacob his own sanity, even if he had to live with that night replaying itself in his nightmares every night.\n\n" ]	8
	[WP] Humans suddenly react to parsley with the same wide range of behaviour that cats exhibit to catnip...	[ "Chris slowly, but steadily placed the new containers of Parsley in their pre determined place on the shelf. Speed was not as important to him as precision and appearance. \"Can't have people claiming I've gone soft in the head. No, sir, I cannot\" he muttered to himself softly as he finished stocking the final container.\n\nNo sooner had the words left his lips than a family of three appeared at the head of the aisle and started walking towards him.\n\n\"Good Morning, folks. Anything I can help you with?\"\n\n\"No, thank you, we're just looking\" the mother replied, smiling. Her eyes roved the multitude of products until she spotted the Parsley, abruptly staring at it with an intensity that had not been there a moment ago.\n\nChris noticed this behavioral shift and swallowed nervously before speaking. \"Okay. If you need anything, please feel free to ask.\" \n\nAs he began to turn away, the lady reached out and swatted a single container of Parsley off the shelf. She looked at the plastic cylinder, now rolling around on the floor, for a second before losing interest and continuing down the aisle. \n\n\"Ma'am?\" the old man asked tentatively. The young girl he had forgotten was even there took this opportunity to kick the Parsley and run off excitedly after it. Chris stared, bewildered and apprehensive about this chain of events. \n\nThere was a blur of movement! The man had turned and jumped at the shelf! He lashed out with his hand and smacked the entire grouping of Parsley right off! Chris rapidly spun around and fled the area. Behind him, the entire family also scattered as the containers of Parsley noisily clattered on the floor. \n\nThey had all long since settled in disarray upon the ground before a single face peeked around the corner.\n\nEdit: word", "Suburbina, NJ\nApril 20, 2015:\n\n\"What do you kids want?\" the upperclassman asked of the young boys.\n\n\"Um, we'll take one.\" said one of them.\n\n\"One what? A dub?\" he replied.\n\n\"Y-yeah. One of those.\"\n\n\"Twenty bucks.\"\n\nOne of the boys handed him the money.\n\n\"Alright, wait here.\"\n\nJackpot, he thought to himself. These kids don't know bud from parsley. And when he went inside, that's exactly what he filled one of his little gram bags with. He went back out and handed it to them.\n\n\"Here you go, don't use it all at once.\"\n\nOne of the boys' parents' house was empty, and they went back there to get high for their first time. One boy opened the bag to take a wiff of that dank weed.\n\n\"Oh man, this is good herb!\"\n\n\"How do you know? Neither of us have done this before!\"\n\n\"No man...this is good. Like...\"\n\nThere was a long pause.\n\n\"Like...\"\n\nThe other boy went to smell it as well.\n\n\"Holy shit! Holy...\"\n\n\"...holy shit...\"\n\nThis went down in history as the first reported case of Petroselinum Crispum Hypersensitivity, a disorder which, within an extremely short time-frame, would come to affect 98% of the population and change not just the drug trade, but society as a whole.\n\n----\n\nBaltimore, MD\nMarch 10, 2017\n\nA lone gunman walks down a familiar block in the ghetto, shotgun casually in hand. Everyone here knows him by name. Everyone here knows exactly what to do when he comes around.\n\nHe whistles an old nursery rhyme as he passes by the houses, some of which are boarded up but have occupants regardless. He stops in front of one of the condemned apartments and waits for about thirty seconds. That's an unusually long time for him to have to stand around.\n\n\"You never known me to be one to wait yo.\" he says.\n\nAnother ten seconds passes. Out from the second story window falls a double-vacuum sealed container. Contents: parsley.\n\n----\n\nWashington, DC\nFebruary 28th, 2036\n\nThe leader of the Ministry of Truth was was working extra hours again. It was an exceedingly difficult job to convince a nation that it had successfully eradicated an entire species of flora. Of course, there was no way to ensure extinction of the plant, but to convince the public of it was plausible.\n\nBut news of a rogue plant would pop up here and there, making his job feel impossible at times. Tonight was one of those nights. \n\nHe opened his desk drawer and emptied all the files out. Underneath was a small a vacuum sealed chest which he removed and took out to the center of the room. He laid out a blanket and locked the door. He could feel a nervous sensation rush up into his face as he anticipated what he was about to do. He opened up the box and moved his face towards it.\n\nHe inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, and he wasn't quite sure what he was worried about just a minute ago. He started to giggle as the corners of the blanket started to seem irresistibly amusing to him.\n\n----", "I glanced around furtively as I stepped through the sliding glass doors, out of the oppressive summer heat and into the refreshingly cool air of the store. Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I quickly scanned the registers for the familiar cashiers. An older Asian man, a bubbly teenage blonde... Perfect, no one I recognized! It seemed my plan to come at a different time had worked. Of course, it wasn't over yet; I'd felt the crushing disappointment of unforeseen obstacles too many times to get complacent yet. Still, I couldn't completely suppress the feeling of elation rising in my chest. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nHurriedly, I scooped up a bright red hand basket and made my way to the spice aisle. I shuffled passed the name brand section without even a look; McCormick had long been washing their products to remove what I had after. At the end of the long row of shelves I found what I was looking for: an obscure Mexican spice brand that still somehow got away with selling unwashed herbs. \"Now let's see, where is the parsely,\" I mumbled to myself as I gazed at the rack. Nutmeg, poppy seeds, no that's not it. \"Damn it!\" I snarled, as I noticed the gap where my prize shoud've been. I'd waited two weeks for a restock and driven an hour for nothing!\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI felt my heart pounding at the rage swelled within me. Turning back the way I came, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone. Maybe there was another store I could try: Palm Bay, Malabar, Melbourne, Viera...maybe Cocoa? No, I'd hit that one up last week. Maybe I could backtrack south, there were a few in Vero. Lost in concentration, a sudden \"May I help you?\" jolted me back to my surroundings. A guy my age was next to me. Hiding my desperation as best I could, I stammered, \"Just looking for some...(shit think fast!)...Badia brand smoked paprika.\" I couldn't look him in the eye; I stared at the dull brown floor in shame. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Check the foreign aisle; it's number 8,\" he responded without a trace of scorn. Reinvigorated, I strolled with wide steps to the suggested location. The label immediately caught my eye; there it was! Now ebullient, I counted the bottles. \"One, four...six!\" That was the most I'd ever found in one spot since the de facto ban. A few news stories on kids abusing a common ingredient and suddenly everyone is up in arms. The fresh stuff was pulled within a month. \"Well they didn't stop me!\" I think victoriously. Usually I'd be cautious and buy only a couple. After all, who needs that much parsely? \"Whatever,\" I grunted flippantly as I stuffed all six bottles into my basket. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nAfter grabbing a few extra items: flour, carrots, chicken; to divert suspicion, I anxiously approached the checkout line. I figured the teenage girl would be least likely to discern my true intentions, so I entered her line. We exchanged greetings and I placed the bottles on the belt, label side down. Ugh, why can't there be a self checkout line! She scanned the bottles and I smiled feebly. \"That's a lot of parsely,\" she observed wrly, as her face twisted into an incredulous smile. \"Uhh...yeah...just making some chicken pot pie,\" I lied, failing to sound convincing. Not my finest performance. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Haha, riiiight!\" she chuckled. Maybe she was in on the secret too, part of the clandestine fellowship of parsely addicts. A group scarcely attested to except in obscure internet forums. \"Sorry, it's all mine!\" I thought sardonically. I scanned my card to pay, hoping I would have sufficent funds; nothing could be more embarrassing than coming up short. After a tense few seconds, \"Approved\" flashed across the screen. I exhaled and happily said goodbye. \"Have fun,\" I heard as I rushed to the exit. Relief was so close. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nNearly jogging, I pushed through the doors into the parking lot. The blast of hot, sticky air felt like a wet sweater, but even that couldn't slow me down. Spotting my car, I raced over and jumped in, wasting no time to start the ignition and peel out. Not much longer now; I sped home. Finally arriving, I flung open the front door. The mortar and pestle was on the counter. Open, shake, grind, the ritual was complete. My cat Gus was at my side, as eager as I. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nDividing the dose and inhaling, the effects were immediate. A warm rush radiated from my stomach. The bliss overpowered me as the sunlight streaming through the window became a diaphanous, irridescent ribbon. I batted at it, reveling in the fleeting euphoria I'd fought hard to obtain. As I rolled around on the velvety carpet, I became cognizant of a sedate, purring voice. \"Thanks man, I owe you one.\"" ]	3
	[WP] Write what should not be forgotten.	[ "You must not forget. Though you may forget all else, you must not forget her, Jacob. They will try to make you forget; they have so many ways. But you mustn't let them make you forget this one thing! If you forget, this will all have been for naught... Jacob, you are her last hope. My last hope. Remember Jacob, they aren't real.\n\n ----\n\nAfter searching his cramped surroundings the small slave boy had come across the very worn letter. Brown with the stains of aging, he could barely make out the chicken scratch writing. Having never learned to read he only knew how to write his name; his father had taught him, before his death. Several times he saw his name, Jacob, across the page. But why? \n\nWith a sudden jerk the caravan stopped. Almost dropping the letter, he scrambled to stash it away inside of his ragged tunic before -\n\n\"Oi, you boy!\" Raking a metal rod against the bars of the cell, Markus, the slave master barked at him. Jacobs heart leapt into his throat. Had he seen him with the letter? Deciding to play it as though he hadn't, Jacob gave the slave master a timid look in response.\n\n\"C'mon boy,\" Markus said, fidgeting with the cell lock \"your stop. Time for you to make us some money.\"", "He checked the pockets on his backpack nervously one more time. A pitch black sedan would arrive in exactly in 10 minutes to pick him up. He could not afford to be late. Even knowing this, he was momentarily frozen in the foyer, her piercing gaze upon him. She always knew how to find him, especially when he left on trips like these. \n\n“You’re leaving again aren’t you, off to gallivant with those thugs?” She chimed, almost listlessly. The pale moonlight streamed through the moonlight illuminating her beautiful, yet unfazed face. “You don’t have to do this anymore.” She said. \n\nShe was right in part. The future only held more of the same though. He had lived his life this long without giving into her wishes. Were it a few years ago she might actually be accompanying him. Everything changed after the child though. Dam kid couldn’t stay out of trouble. He looked over her way with a snap. “I have to, for Vera, and for us.” He said. \n\nShe moved towards the door. “I don’t know what you’re planning but be careful.” She intoned. She pulled a smooth, black handgun from the backpack and racked the slide. “If you are going, don’t forget this time.” She said.\n\nHe grinned as car headlights flashed towards the house. “Home by 7 for dinner and don’t forget the milk.” He recited. He zipped up the backpack and quietly walked outside. He tightened his grip on the gun. Forgetting and fulfilling were two different things for him this time. As he entered the car and drove away, the small house showed up in the mirror. The abode that had held the 3 for so long burst in to a wild gout of flame. \n", "The blind old man is seated on a wicker stool, thumbing the beads of his rosary with his dark, wrinkled, emaciated hand. His eyes are closed but his lips move with a solemn energy. At his feet lies a piece of cloth where passerbys deposit the dregs of their pockets. A few silver coins, a button, the grey fluff that accumulates in old clothes.\n\nShe stoops to deposit among these treasures- a similar gift. \nHe says to her: \n\n\"There is, in this world, a secret.\nHidden and elusive, a veiled whisper carried by the wind. \nMurmuring among the rocky brooks, \nFoaming on sandy shores, \nA rhythmic beating, softly heard, emanating from every rock and tree and being. \n\nClose your eyes, lower your breath, stand strong and still and you can maybe hear it. Perhaps even glimpse it. Always you can feel it.\nIn the fallen snow flake by flake, in the expanding concentric ripples of water, in the warmth of an embrace, and the pulses of heartbeats echoing out of a lovers chest.\nIt’s the history of all that has ever been and all that will ever be.\nThe history of us, timeless and immemorial. \n\nFrom that intangential, incomprehensible, constantly brewing miasma of chaos it lies at its basin. A white hot spark of energy, of hope, of magic. \n\nWhat can never be forgotten?\nThe fleeting, glowing and soothing spark of life.\"\n\nHe leans back into his chair and his face is transformed, for an instant, into one that is young, healthy, lucid. \nShe blinks.\nAnd the old man continues his silent prayer.\n", "\"There is one thing all you jaundiced bellied aliens have forgotten... One fundamental thing you all neglected to remember.\"\n\"What? What is it?\"\n\"Well, you did everything perfectly. You put me in handcuffs, placed my feet in plascrete, knocked me out, woke me up for interrogation, briefly broke my will until I got better, took away everything I had and kept me chained up here in your brig for two days without food or the barest minimum of water to survive.\"\n\"So? What have we forgotten?\"\n\"I hadn't finished. There are seven laser turrets all aimed at specific organs of my body ready to activate if someone starts the alarm. The alarm will also activate this shock collar immobilising me long enough for the turrets to surgically remove every part of me that keeps me alive. Even if I did escape that, your ship is filled with well trained, physically awesome personel and a horde of assassin robots who only obey your command. Your ship is inoperable to anyone not posessing the gemetic sequences on the system as well as a match to the psychological profiles of each crew member. My own ship was stripped then chucked into a star. I am untold lightyears away from any safe haven, so even if I did escape, I possibly would be dead within the month.\"\n\"So what did we forget?\"\n\n\"One. When you captured me I transmitted every recording on my ship in the direction of my home base, on every frequency I have. Two, I have many, many clones. Three, I have a very low self preservation instinct because of Two. Four, I am a human, and I'm too stubborn to give you the secrets I posess. Five, No, really. humans are bloody awesome. And Six, I am a trained escape artist and the past seven weeks has been a biological robot I made for this eventuality, whose internal organs can convert into a decent localised biological plague bomb if killed, whilst I escape in the confusion disguised as your more humanoid staff on one of your escape pods.\"\n\n\"Goddamn human smugglers. This is stupid.\"\n\"No, it's planning ahead. Also, kaboom, hope you like pus and sores!\"", "Once the world would tremble to behold giants. Those who would make the common man cry in the face of such ambition. Those titans, who with the slightest word or movement of hand would decide the fate of the world. There were giants in those lands, in those days the world would be awestruck and know, that there was people who could stand against the it and win. They came to all lands, they were born in every part of the world. They had voices that made cowards to warriors, they had the iron will to shape the ruins of tribes into the greatest powers in the known world, all those whose lives they touched were made better for it. When the great libraries rose, the giants commanded it. When the men from across the seas came to ravage the weak men of the cross, it was at the behest of giants. When the war broke the world, the mighty among us were in command. They were the heroes found in children's tales, heroes with might of swords and spells. Through peace and violence they shaped the world, they brought the mightiest empires to heel without loosing a shot, or forged their will in the fires of war and industry. Remade nations broken into two, for the betterment of all. All made their fateful marks upon the tapestry of history.\n\nThousands they had been, yet now they are gone. Gone from this unworthy mundane world and so we are poorer for it. Left with the dumb mouths of fools spitting petty and pathetic wretched words, meant to destroy the chance of any giants wakening. These giants are sleeping, awaiting the time when the world is right. Once the weak men have driven the world into ruin they will awaken. In the minds of children they are waiting, and once stirred there will be a reckoning unlike any other. And woe unto those who will dare to resist them. So remember the mighty giants, for soon they will be coming.", "Men fight in war. Women and children fight in war. All of them can and do die in war. Sometimes quickly, sometimes it takes decades. Sometimes they live. Sometimes they wish they hadn't. Sometimes their wounds aren't visible. Sometimes we act like they are invisible. And ever time this is forgotten, the chance of more war remains. Would we accept war if everyone had something to lose, be it their family, friends, jobs, country, or world? I hope not.", "Edwards stared blankly at the clean, smooth interior inside the port a potty as he finished his business. It was a replacement for the last portable toilet (which had met its untimely end at the hands of a nervous boot learning to drive a 7 ton) and had not yet been vandalized.\n\nHe pondered for a second on what to immortalize upon the virgin surface, before coming to the obvious conclusion. It was almost tradition by this point.\n\n\"Wagner loves the cock\".\n", "On the boardwalk, we walked with the dying current. Summer was over. We’d get the last rush of shore traffic on Labor Day but summer was over. The sun hung low onto the horizon and it was bleeding. The ocean waves pulled the breeze into them.\n\nBrett nursed her ice-e and held onto it with both hands like a kid with a training cup and she locked her hips into mine and I put my arm around her out of nostalgia. Her hair was black this week. Before that it had been carmine and before that blue and I had always liked that about her. Her dollar flip-flops kept our walking rhythm. A blank stare beneath a pair of cheap aviators kept our destination.\n\n“Do you still love me, Jake?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“Still enough to leave Rachel?”\n\n“Do we really have to do this now? I just want to enjoy the walk with you. I thought you would like that.”\n\n“Just lie to me, Jake.”\n\n“I love you, and tomorrow we’ll run away together. We can move away and we can both have little farms in Salem and live like that.”\n\nShe looked at her ice-e and moved the straw to the side and put the edge of the cup to her lips and started eating it. It stained her teeth and lips red like she just learned how to put on lipstick.\n\n“I’m thinking about letting my natural color come back.”\n\n“Why? I like it this way. It’s different. It’s a great break from the parade of summertime blonds you guys get here.”\n\n“I can’t be a novelty forever.”\n\nWe walked into an arcade. Cheap plastic lights and decades-old sound effects pulsed for the trickle of locals passing it. I pulled out my wallet and got change and Brett circled a skee-ball machine. The brown ramp was scarred with gray streaks and divots. I gave her a handful of quarters and she rolled the balls up and missed the 50-hole each time. 9 balls. 90 points. It was disappointing, I was hoping to see her break a high-score.\n\n“Where’s the Brett who hit the hundred-hole 6 times in a row?”\n\n“I don’t know, I think you left her on the beach somewhere.”\n\n“Come on, we were having a good time. Don’t be like that.”\n\nWe left the arcade. The change jingled in my pocket like a broken rattle. We walked onto the beach. I couldn’t feel the sand through my sneakers but Brett said it was cool. We crawled underneath of the boardwalk and looked up through the floorboards. The first time we were here we were naked and the summer was new and fresh and full of promise and there she was, blue curls bouncing behind those cheap aviators we bought as we ignored the tread of flip-flops and the slamming of light-up sneakers on the boardwalk above us. It was nice. We put our backs against the sand and it shifted like mercury underneath us.\n\n“Could you stay?”\n\n“Just a little bit longer, oh please, please stay just a little bit more…”\n\nShe looked back blankly. “Stop singing whatever and just be serious, please be serious.”\n\n“Jackson Browne is very serious. He’s a very serious artist.”\n\n“Please, just stay here.”\n\nI rolled over to look at her and I put my hand on her stomach. It felt deflated. I looked into her eyes. “You know I love you. You’re so beautiful.” I leaned in to kiss her and she turned away. I tried again but she kept turning her head. “Come on, Brett, don’t be like this. We can have one more for the road.”\n\n“Go to hell, I thought you loved me.”\n\n“I did.”\n\n“No you didn’t. It hurt, you know. You kept trying to convince me ‘Oh, don’t worry, it won’t hurt. It’ll save us so much trouble. That’s all it would really be, trouble. Then we can forget all about it and be happy again.’ Well it hurt and it still hurts and I hate you for it.”\n\n“Brett, come on, please. Just be reasonable. You know I can’t stay here. You knew I was only here for the summer. You knew it was going to be like this.”\n\n“No, I really didn’t.” She got up and she threw her ice-e into the sand next to me. The rest of the liquid bled out onto the sand. She took her aviators and snapped them apart in her hands and threw them down next to me too. I never noticed how blue her eyes really were. It’s a shame her eyes were already starting to bag.\n\n“Come on, don’t throw a tantrum. What did you think was going to happen? I’d be there every day after school let out and pick you up and whisk you away to some fairy tale ending? Is that it? I have a girlfriend, I have college, hell, I have a whole life, Brett. You knew what this was.”\n\n“This whole thing—you—you really weren’t worth it.”\n\nShe turned around and walked away. There was something different about it all—I don’t know. At the beginning of the summer I would have chased just the image of her ass all the way across the Atlantic but now I wouldn’t get up to chase it up the boardwalk. She was driving each foot down through the sand and it wasn’t flattering. When I first met her, everywhere she walked she glided like a ballerina across a dance floor. When I had first met her, her eyes were taught and her figure lithe and her laugh was just so innocent and now it all just seemed haggard. \n\nI waited for her to leave. I didn’t hear her crying as she walked away, that was good. I don’t think I would have been able to deal with all the crying and I wouldn’t have been able to deal with seeing her again on my way out. I grabbed her trash and threw it away on the boardwalk. Next to the trashcan I saw a plush toy with torn limbs and pigeon stains. I kicked it onto the sand and left it there. I wanted to forget about the whole thing. She never meant much to me, anyway.\n", "Slim gaps between the rotting, wooden boards crudely nailed through the plaster walls allowed rays of sunshine to slip across the broken tiles and glass strewn along the floor. The thin bands stretched and sprawled across the dilapidated room filled with ash and dust, lighting upon a mother and her child shivering quietly in the corner. The mother stirred as the warm hand of the sun gently roused her from slumber as she stretched softly and nervously, trying not to wake the still sleeping child in her loving embrace.\n\nThe light grew stronger through the cracks and holes in the worn boards, a river of light barely dammed by these broken sticks. Her stomach began to complain as her daughter awoke, greeted by a light kiss, as she cast about her pockets for the remaining pieces of food. Her hand returned only two slim sticks, enough for them both and only for the day. She thought to herself quietly and handed her child one piece while pretending to eat the other, stashing it away for tomorrow. Though they were both cold, hungry and tired, she would fare better than her daughter without food.\n\nHer stomach continued to grumble as the day went on, the two of them hiding alone in what amounted to a ghost town, burned and crumbling with few survivors hiding in the smoky fog. All of their food and supplies had dwindled, expired or walked off in the hands of another, taken for the greater good. What remained for the people were tasteless bars forged from compressed powder and grit allowing just enough nutrition that they could live to suffer another day. The only potable water that existed in the town was buried miles below where they could not hope to reach. Streams laden with chemicals and refuse flowed around the town, calling with a gurgling siren song to any desperate enough to listen. To drink its thick ichor was to know one's inevitable death only days sooner. Still, she suffered with her child's best interests at heart, knowing that past tomorrow, she would be unable to do anything more.\n\nAs day turned to night, her daughter slept soundly in her arms as tears rolled down her face, she prayed to the heavens that she would be spared this horrible fate. She began to feel sharp pains in her stomach as the pressure in her head grew, the starvation was gnawing away at what little time she had left. With no sleep, no food, and no water, her mind and body grew weary with the coming of the morning sun. Her daughter woke and ate the remaining food hungrily, as her mother smiled and combed through her short, messy hair with quivering fingers. They sat together, leaning against one another as a number of heavy footsteps sounded outside their door.\n\nA heavy boot collided loudly with the weakened partition, throwing it open as the men and women rushed inside, sweeping the building and room. A single soldier stepped forth as the daughter shied away and the mother fought to remain awake. The soldier told them that they were safe now, handing over his rations and a bottle of water. The mother continued to slip in and out of consciousness as the medics came to treat her. She was quickly whisked away to the nearby base as the daughter was led by the hand of the soldier, bound for the same place.\n\nTwenty years later, the daughter sat at her desk in a high-rise building with a tall glass of water and a large spinach salad with strawberry vinaigrette, her favorite in fact. She pierced the dark green leaves and succulent berries with the solid tines of her fork, lifting them up into her mouth. Chewing slowly, her eyes began to well with tears as the bittersweet flavor enveloped her tongue. She remembered those harsh days in that distant land and what her mother had sacrificed for her all those years ago.\n\n-049", "\"Yes, yes, he said a lot, and finished with, should not be forgotten,\" she said.\n\n\"And what else? Do you remember anything else?\" I asked.\n\n\"I ran for pen and paper and... I felt the distinct sensation of floating in water, adrift in some way. It was powerful enough to make me pause.\"\n\n\"Hmm,\" I pondered.\n\nAnd now I can't seem to remember anything that he said. I had to write everything, I need to get it all down.\"\n\n\"It's alright, it'll come to you,\" I said patiently.\n\n\"But I need to make sure! It can't be forgotten!\" she said despondently.\n\n\"I'll leave these papers here, for when you remember,\" I said, smiling.\n\n\"Thank you young man,\" she said with a grin, \"I hope you treat all the ladies this well.\"\n\nI smiled and turned for the door, a single tear ran down my cheek as I closed it softly behind me. I love you too Mom.", "\"I could say young love, famous battles or great men and women of history.\" The old man said. His family had crowded around his death bed in his luxurious manner. The three sons had managed to secure time away from the senate to be here during their father's last moments, The 4 daughters had time away from their large families and noble prize candidate projects. His wife held his hand as his breathing slowed, the Pulitzer committee could wait a few more days on her.\n\n\"Given my admirable position in life I could say some secrets to success as my parting words so that you might remember them. Perhaps a few anecdotes about working hard or staying true to one's inner nature. But have I not long regaled all of you with these tales and lessons? Is it not true that all of you come to me now from the highest of points in your careers, with loving families to support you, because you have ever held to these lessons. Have you not come here to hear some final new words of guidance?\" The old man wheezed as the heart rate monitor ticked downwards.\n\n\"Then I offer you this, as a last gift for the privilege of spending a life with such admirable people as you. As I draw my last breaths I am comforted by the fact that though I have succeeded in life, it is my conscience that I value highest at the last. I am slipping away in peace because I know that whatever awaits me in the great beyond. I will meet it with clean hands and straight eyes because I have always held to my moral code, and strayed not from the path I laid myself. Remember this, dearest ones, there is no treasure greater than a clear conscience. It is now my time to part with you, but I believe it is only for a little while, and we shall all soon meet again.\"" ]	11
	[WP] A scam-artist cult leader's knowingly false rituals start to produce genuine miracles.	[ "It happened yesterday. I cured a deaf. Some people may say, that these things usually happen to the head of the Naturerology cult, which has over 2.000 Naturists in the US. \n\nI started this project five years ago, after I have been struggling with my career as an actor in San Francisco. I gathered a couple of buddies, made up some bullshit about the origin of our being, and gave them some of the leading positions in our cult. \n\nAnyways, on our 5 th Nature worship fair, it happened. A deaf man came to the podium, and he was hodling a sign, that he was deaf. We always wanted to do some of this miracle stuff with some actors we knew in front of our believers. But this time, it was different. We have never seen this person before and as he begged us to at least try to summon a miracle, I had to give in. \nAs I laid my hand upon this kneeling man's forehead and started mumbling the songtext of Cotton eyed Joe, so that only I could understand it, I felt energy dripping out of my hand, filling this man's head with greeen light. \nAnd it happened. He could hear again. \nThe whole crowd was cheering. \n\nI have always had my letter by my side, which said the whole religion was just made up so that we didn't have to struggle as artists anymore, but I guess that neither of us will need it anymore. \n\nI will have to talk to you tomorrow, fellow Prestor level OH-03.\n\nRon Harvard, head of Naturerology , Preto level OH-90", "I was essentially a cult leader overnight. It was easy. I replied to the ad on craigslist, and the next day three slick lawyers showed up. We took a chauffeured limo to the mayor's office. After a few hours of lawyer-talk, paperwork, and bribery, I was a tax exempt leader of the newest church in town, The church of the Big Blue Square. \n\nTwo white semis and a van of laborers pulled in to town a few hours later and turned a rundown catholic church that had been for sale for years into a shiny palace. Painting the whole building crystal white, they fixed the lawn, filled potholes in the parking lot, dusted and cleared out the basement, fixed some electrical problems, and generally turned a dump into a clean organism in a day. \n\nI was given a pamphlet with the logo on the outside. Inside a few short sentences summed up the philosophy of the church.- \"You now have the opportunity to inspire and lead, nurture and give. You will grow in ways unimaginable at this moment. Let your worshipers believe anything you want. Tell them it is all good. Encourage discussion, and love, preferably. Press the blue square on the podium and the screens will flash, bringing the people to an enlightened state. It is important to do this three times a week. It is important to collect tithes, encourage 20% of pre-taxable income, but accept any monetary donations. The main focus of your church is revenue for the continued growth of the church, so focus on that.\" \n\nOn Sunday twenty interested people showed up. They shuffled silently into the white chapel, walked down white isles finding seats in white pews. The only color was on the shiny blue screens that replaced the windows, squares lined along the wall, and one large box in front. \n\nI stood at the front, nervous. I took a deep breath, and pushed the button. Immediately the blue squares turned pink, red, white, then yellow. They flickered colors randomly, throwing enough light to change the entire color of the room. It had an instant hypnotic effect, and an hour slipped by. Suddenly everything was clear; it was like waking up from a dream. \n\n\"Wow, so okay, let's see, welcome to the church of the big blue square! Thank you for coming to our inaugural Bash, how's everybody feeling?\" The people seemed to be in a sleepy happy haze. They had just been hypnotized for the past hour, sitting slack-jawed staring forward surrounded by mesmerizing flashing lights. Some of them seemed confused, but at least most of them were smiling. A few of them were already whispering to each other about inviting their friends next week and paying tithes. the hypnotic programming had set in. \n\nI wanted to feel like a leader, I didn't want the technology to do all the work, so I called a kid named Kenny to the front. Kenny had a broken leg, and had been hobbling around on crutches. I laid my hands on his leg and with a wild southern-preacher like flair I screamed out \"heal this boy!\" I didn't know what to expect, I didn't expect anything, I mostly just wanted dramatic effect, But Kenny stood up and took three steps. It was a miracle", "My own offering:\n\nFather, I have sinned. \n\nNo, sir, never. I've never taken confession before, not even once, 'cause I wasn't raised Catholic. I wasn't even raised Christian, see, 'cause my parents were atheists. I'm an atheist. Or I was. I have absolutely no idea anymore. God, I wish I did.\n\nYou've heard of us, almost undoubtedly. I know a Papal Bull was written on the Servants of the Deep because I read it out to my followers. We laughed, 'cause of course we did. We laughed at your pope condemning all the blasphemies and desecrations that we'd perpetrated, 'cause to us it was just funny. We loved the feeling of making the most famous religious leader in the world so very sad and angry, so miserable at the misery of his followers, loved how powerful it made us felt. I was there, in person, on San Cristobal hill when we smeared human shit on the statue of the Virgin Mary - didn't dirty my hands personally, obviously, but I was there. Me and two of my followers smashed open the Reliquary at Westminster Cathedral, and we laughed as we did it.\n\nAnd no-one was laughing more than me, 'cause not only was I fucking with the most powerful religious institution on the planet, but goddamnit I was screwing over all the mental defectives who were following me. It was all lies. Everything about the Lords of the Deep, I made it up! I swear. I swear to God, I made it up. You have to believe me. Tar-Gneth? R'aque'nu? I made those names up. I swear I did. Thithubilalomaquaba? How can you even begin to believe that name is real? The scripture, the artifacts, the hymns, the \"magic rituals\" - all of it, fake. I made it up. Father, you have to believe me. I made it up. They came to me looking for purpose, and I took their money, sold them bullshit.\n\nBut the money, the gifts, the sex... that was only a tiny part of it. Everyone looked up to me, like I was the only one in the world who knew what was real. You know that feeling, father, or at least a small part of it. People turning to you for guidance. How easy it would be to abuse that power. But all of it was a lie, and somehow knowing that made it feel even better. Like I was literally pulling puppet strings with my words.\n\nIt wasn't meant to be real.\n\n\\* A pause, and the faint sound of sobbing.\n\nPlease, you have to believe me, father. You have to believe that I made it up.\n\nIt started two weeks ago, during the Lesser Invocation of Lur-Amn. One of the fun little touches I have for that particular ritual is these strategically-placed fans concealed throughout the \"sacred chamber.\" Palming a remote control to turn them on and blow out the candles at a dramatically appropriate time really adds some extra oomph to a sermon, you know? But we were only halfway through the second verse that night and I never pull that trick until the fourth verse at the earliest. The candles went out. Everyone acted like they usually do when that happens... 'cept, of course, me. Because that wasn't supposed to happen. I hadn't touched the remote. I mean, fortunately, no-one noticed I was stumbling through the third verse because they were too into it.\n\nI didn't think too much of it until the next night, when we were reciting the Curse of Winnowing against Senator Sullivan. The room suddenly got cold. No, not just chilly, sir, I'm talking Boston-in-midwinter cold. You could see your breath. The room was filled with these whispers. I can't repeat the things they said to us. Just trying to think of the syllables makes me want to throw up. Then there was screaming. Human screaming. And... well, you know how the police found Sullivan the next morning, of course. It was all over the news.\n\nI told them... I can't remember the exact words. But after that I told them the Deep Lords had told me not to invoke any more curses, as our... I think I said our \"favour with them had worn thin\" and requesting more curses against our \"enemies\" would turn their ire upon us. They believed me. I think. God, I hope they believed me.\n\nI don't think I can stop the supplicants, though. Not now that they've started to mutate. Every bit of my brain I used to use for coming up with this bullshit I'm now using to work out how to convincingly tell them they can't go out in public like that, how the world isn't ready. The worst thing, though, father? The ones that are really far-gone, they look exactly like I imagined they would, like it shows in the drawings I made. None of that was meant to be real. I don't even know how their organs keep functioning arranged in that way. When they blink their eyes, I want to throw up. When they talk I don't even know where their voices are coming from anymore.\n\nI don't know if the still-human-looking ones are worse, because they can do... things. Make things disappear, but not like a magic trick, really disappear. They did it with a human two days ago. An hour later they brought him back and he just laid there screaming, screaming, screaming until he passed the fuck out, then when he woke up he just screamed and screamed and screamed some more until eventually they just made him disappear again. I've seen one conjure lime-green fire from his hands that rots what it touches instead of burns. Another touched a five-year-old boy on the shoulder as he passed, and the boy picked up a stick and started scraping symbols in the dirt. I later discovered those symbols were Linear A, a language that's been dead for over three thousand years.\n\nI'm kind of glad we'll probably never know what he wrote.\n\nWhy am I confessing to this? Well, what else can I do, father? I can't tell them it's not real, because... because apparently the fakeness is what wasn't real. Because the stuff I wrote about is really coming true. Because Lur-Amn, Tar-Gneth, R'aque'nu, Thithubilalomaquaba? Because apparently, they're all real. Apparently, they're waiting at the bottom of the ocean, in the lightless depths where man's technology can't see them. Because I wrote that one day soon, they're going to rise up and consume all the peoples of the Earth in a torment that will last a thousand eternities.\n\nMy one hope, father, is that if these things I always thought were fake are real, other things that I thought were fake are also real. My hope, father, my one, stupid, tiny hope is that God's real. That God exists, and that He is indeed more powerful than the awful things I wrote into being. My hope is that God can save us from the hell I've spread upon us.\n\nHow many Hail Marys do you want me to say? I guarantee it won't be enough." ]	3
All minor and major cuts and injuries stop healing.	[WP]All cuts and injuries suddenly stop healing.	[ "The virus HI-01, which now has infected a big part of the global population decreases the healing functions of the human body permanently, making every minor injury crucial. \nCities, in which these viruses were the cause of whole cultures vanished thousands of years ago. A virus, could never infect whole continents due to it's habitating creature dying too rapidly. \nBut the modern medicine can artificially seal a wound, through surgeries. Of course, not everybody can afford these procedures, making it impossible for many people from developing countries, to survive these viruses, once they are infected.\n This however, did not stop the rich survivors still carrying the virus, to change any of their behaviour. \n\nIt will soon end in a diseaster, as no government is seeming to help the needy. ", "My sinuses burn as I breath in a cold winter night's dry air. A metallic flavor overwhelms my senses. I sit up in bed, curiously, only to have warm sanguine liquid pour from my nostrils to the tip of my nose. Drip. What a bothersome affliction in the middle of the night. I get up to grab a tissue to stuff the now hemorrhaging void of my nose with. A single rogue drop of blood escapes my sniffing and splashes on the ground, making much more of a mess than imaginable. I twist and shove the tissue in, deep and secure. I lay back down and try to fall asleep. The blood continues to flow, I swallow gulp after gulp as it enters my throat through my sinuses. I choke and cough blood down my chest. Something isn't right, the flow is relentless, unaffected by my self-treatment. I sit up in a panic, only to have the bank of blood stored in my sinuses evacuate the paper clot. Drenched in my own life, I begin to feel tired once again. My vision becomes very small. I feel weak and helpless. Incapable of keeping upright, I acceptingly lay my head down to my spattered pillow and fall asleep in in the warm sanguine liquid, pooled on my mattress grave.\n" ]	2
	[WP] People no longer wake up after they fall asleep. You are an insomniac.	[ "Ryan walked in through the sliding door of someone else's home. This was his first time ransacking a home in Brentwood, an upper-class neighborhood. He was greeted with an angular, skinny corpse of a teenage boy slung over the edge of a pool table. Whoever was awake long enough to realize something was wrong ended up falling asleep in random places like this boy did. Ryan walked up the stairs into main story of the home. The sun peeked through the windows and reflected off the setting dust in the living room. Ryan admired the style of the furniture: contemporary themes with matching accents and a contrasting rug to tie the room together. He thought about doing a similar set up. \nHe walked into the kitchen and strapped his backpack on to the front of his torso and unzipped it. Ryan grinned at the thought of him looking like a kangaroo. What a hilarious comparison. He opened the refrigerator. Dairy products were immediately out of the question, since they were all expired. Ryan carelessly began throwing unusable items on the ground behind him and shoving edible foodstuffs in his backpack. \n\"HEY!\" \nRyan immediately froze with fear. \n\"Turn around.\" \nRyan turned around. There stood a man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties pointing a handgun directly towards him. Pale discolored circles engulfed his bloodshot eyes. The edges of his fingers were scabbed from frequent nail biting and his his knees were shaking to the point where it was instantly noticeable. \nRyan put his hands in the air, \"Listen, I'm just like you man. Just trying to survive.\" \nThe man looked at Ryan. It was tough for Ryan to read his expression beyond his exhausted grimace. \"No, you're not like me,\" he responded. \"You look like a regular person.\" \n\"I am a regular person,\" Ryan declared. \"So can you put down the gun?\" \n\"That's not what I mean,\" the man said. \"I mean that you haven't slept in 981 days, and you should look like an exhausted shell of person like me, but you don't.\" \nRyan didn't say anything. \n\"Come with me,\" the man motioned with one of his hands while keeping the gun aimed at Ryan. Ryan walked over with his hands still above his head. \"Go up the stairs.\" \nRyan made his way upstairs while the stranger closely followed behind. Ryan wasn't sure if this man was leading him to his death. Ryan began devising a method of attack, since it seemed like a plausible thing to do against an exhausted guy who can barely stand let alone have enough energy to react to any sudden movements. Ryan walked into the bedroom at the end of the long hallway at the top of the steps. Ryan turned around and was relaxed to see the man no long had his gun pointed at him, and finally put his arms down. \n\"Why did you bring me up here?\" Ryan asked. \n\"I brought you up here because I need you to help me. My name is Thomas by the way.\" \n\"I'm Ryan. What do you need me to help you with?\" \nThomas stood there for a second staring at Ryan as if he had lost his train of thought. He then turned his head and walked over to the corner of the room where he removed a blanket covering a rectangular-shaped object, revealing it to be a kennel. A kennel with a white samoyed husky inside. \n\"Every second of my life is spent worrying about what will happen to my dog as soon as I fall asleep, and that is the only thing that has kept me going until now,\" Thomas said. \"You can take anything you need in this entire house. I got food, clothes, supplies, you can even take this gun,\" Thomas looked down at his handgun, then back over to the dog. \"But he has to come with you.\" \n\"Okay,\" Ryan replied. \"What's his name?\" \n\"Freddie.\" \n\"Like, 'Freddie Mercury' Freddie?\" \n\"Exactly like that,\" A massive smile engulfed Thomas' face. They both chuckled for a moment. Thomas looked back towards Ryan, \"You promise you will take Freddie with you?\" \nRyan walked over to the kennel and opened the door. Freddie stood up and walked out. Thomas hooked a leash onto Freddie's collar and handed it to Ryan. \n\"I promise I will take Freddie with me,\" Ryan said as he took the leash. Thomas looked at Ryan into the eyes briefly before nodding to himself, as if he had concluded in his own mind that Ryan spoke the truth. He continued to nod as tears started rolling down his face before he promptly collapsed to the floor.\n", "Four Days. Six Hours. Eighteen Minutes. Five cups of coffee. Ten bottles of monster. Two five hour energies. Fifteen showers. I think that my dealer overdosed on cocaine. I don't know the proper dose, so I took a thumbnail. It hurt on the way down. Up? I can't remember how grammar works right now. Six cups of coffee. My leg won't stop jittering and the world is too goddamn bright. Everyone's fighting sleep now. Day one, people didn't really notice. People went to sleep, and then more people went to sleep, but no one woke up from the first sleep to learn that things went wrong. \n\nFucking turn off the sirens. Turn off the sirens. TURN OFF THE SIRENS. I'll be right back.\n\nAnother line of cocaine. Shit burns. Feel better than it did the first time. Couldn't find the security ... box thing. Moved to the library. It's easier to write here. Where was I? No, not literally. Well, I mean I was in my apartment. Chris died I think. Fuck. I don't know how to take care of a guy in a coma. Slapped him for a few hours. I think I broke his nose. He wouldn't wake up. No one would wake up.\n\nCollege. Fucking college is the only reason why most of us are still awake. Still functioning. I think. Is this functioning? I'm just rambling. Descision making skills drop after a day or three. All nighters saved lives. Hah. And procrastination gets me nowhere. \n\nInternet's blowing up, of course. Day two was the best chance. Everyone knew not to sleep by then. Whoever was left, of course. Responsible ones went to sleep without knowing. Left with the rest. I'm the rest. Rest. God I'm tired. I just want this to be over. Let it be a dream. Let it be a fucked up super fucked up, oh haha look at how fucked up nightmare of mine. \n\nOh. Sorry. No tittle. No thesis. If you're reading this then you're still awake. So that's good. Or aliens. Cool, but less good. Or we all woke up. Best case. Unlikely. How long can you go without water? Not long. I think thats how Chris died. Or blood clot. Sorry Chris. Feels hot in here. \n\nOut of cocaine. And coffee. Hour left on battery. Library caught on fire. Think it was my fault. Not sure. People were sleeping in there. Sorry. My fault. Grabbed laptop. Didn't grab people.\n\nLaptop's lighter. My fault. My fault. My fault. Fuck fuck fuck. I punched a wall. Broke my hand. I think. Can't move my pinky, but atleast I'm feeling more awake now. Bone's not sticking out atleast. \n\nI don't know how many people are still alive. It's getting harder to stay focused. Need to stay awake. I'll just close one eye. Edit this later. Just one eye. Then the other. So obvious. We're gonna be fine. Please be fine." ]	2
	[WP] Write a short piece that can anyone feel happy, but in an unusual sense.	[ "Nothing in my life was going the way I wanted. All the good things in it were being taken for granted. I was used to this, however, so I didn't let it get me down too much. However, one day there was nothing on TV for me to watch, so I nestled myself on a news station so I could have a nap. This nap would've been easy to accomplish if there weren't at least 30 deaths that happened over multiple news stories. Cops and criminals losing their lives in gunfights, a plane full of children crashing to the ground, a building on fire... the list went on. Needless to say, that brought me down. I was so rattled I couldn't nap. I then resorted to the internet. One of my internet rituals involved checking what Rock Band downloadable content would be available the next week. Upon clicking my bookmark, my breath escaped me. Twelve whole songs by Iron Maiden were to be released. Iron Maiden. My favourite band on my favourite game. I forgot everything about that day, and even my whole life that ever negatively affected my emotions only to be replaced by two things: Iron Maden, Rock Band. Complete and utter happiness.", "When I was a small child, I could never get to sleep.\n\nI used to sit under the stars at night, as they hung over the city lights. Maybe I could count them if I sat and stared long enough.\n\nWhen it rained, I would sit atop my bed, with my knees pulled to my chest. I would simply close my eyes and listen to the pitter-patter of the rain, and the deep calm that came with it.\n\nWhen I was a little older, I still couldn't rest.\n\nI found new things to pull my attention. I would lie in bed at night, listening to songs and reading books and trying to find the meaning in the stories they told.\n\nSoon, I found others to share the night with. We could tell each other stories, or play games, or even just enjoy each other's company in the silence that couldn't be found in the daytime. \n\nNow that I am older, sleep still escapes me.\nInsomnia's the best." ]	2
	[WP] An old toy xylophone sits in the Gobi desert. How did it get there?	[ "\"The cause of the crash is still unknown. Many speculate the airliner was shot down by the Chinese, however that is unlikely. There were at least seventy-five people aboard the Boeing 737, all of which are presumed dead. All citizens aboard were of the Chinese nationality...\" the reporter trailed off as I looked away from the TV. \n\nI returned my attention to the small TV in the corner of the bar. Nobody else seemed to be paying attention to this news. Another plane crash. The news station flicked between different images, all of them striking. They showed pieces of rubble, luggage, a stuffed animal, and even a body covered in white cloth. I'm not sure why, but the most striking image was something simple. A small, rusty xylophone half buried in the sand. " ]	1
	[WP] You are a redditor writing a writing prompt when you suddenly find your life goal	[ "This was the first time I visited /r/WritingPrompts with the intention of actually submitting a post rather than reading the top commenters of whatever topic would seem the most interesting. I scrolled down the page scanning each subject title. \n\n“[WP] Put meaning into something meaningless.” \n\nThat seems doable. Thoughts of someone making a passionate Facebook status passed through my mind, however the development did not venture very far. I would rather have more substance to offer.\n\n“[EU] Tell the story of the two blue wizards from Lord of the Rings who went east and were never heard from again.”\n\nAn interesting proposition, but I am not very confident in my knowledge of the reference to write a paragraph of a narrative, let alone a short story.\n\n“[WP] The four elements change as the world does. In the far future, Earth, Air, Fire and Water have become Metal, Smoke, Lightning, and Oil.”\n\nNow that is just too complex for a first-time attempt at a submission post. I need something simple that I can easily concoct an idea for. Something that I could finish within the hour. Something that could spark some motivation to pair with my newfound courage.\n\n“[WP] You are a redditor writing a writing prompt when you suddenly find your life goal.”\n\nOh wow. This… this could work! Possibly a 1st person narrative, starting off in real time, and I already know how it will end. Words began stitching together and phrases started flowing into my head so fast that I became anxious to transcribe them before they were lost.\n \nIt was just yesterday that I decided to take steps and make efforts to flourish my writing skills. I regularly enjoy reading the writing prompt submissions on Reddit and figure it is a creative outlet with an instant gratification on critique offered by its subscribers. The community could serve as a great support for my progress as well as a source of inspiration.\n \nAs I finished the last sentences and reviewed the product for the final time, I realized that this will be how I embark my life goal to finally composing my novel concepts.\n\n[EDIT: formatting]" ]	1
It could either be a demon, or ghost in the traditional sense but try and make the ghost seem like a reasonable person in comparison to the person that they are haunting. Almost like an angel of death, removing the scum from the world.	[WP] A haunting, from the point of view of a ghost	[ "When this all began, pain, broken, a longing for feeling, feeling anything, a beating heart, flushed skin, a cool breeze, but nothing came, no sound or sight nor smell or taste.\n\nI remembered amber hair and a soft smile. A disease, one that took her away from me. Despair, the taste of a raging bull in my mouth furious at my lack of strength, and nothing.\n\nCrimson, decay, the sun rose and set. When they found him they recoiled, for it was so long after he had given it all away. So much pain. So much sorrow. He - I was taken, but I remain. I will always remain, as will the fleeting memories of her amber hair. ", "\"Hello?\" Alex called out in to the corridor, hesitating to step out of the room. It seemed cold in the house, but he wasn't sure why. He leant out, peering left and right to see if anyone was there. Nothing. He called out once more. \"Hello?\"\n\nAlex stepped back in to the room, and looked around. Where was this? Was it his house? It seemed so unfamiliar to him. How did he get here, then, if it wasn't his house? More importantly, where were Martha and Cathy, his wife and daughter? No answers would be found here, so Alex decided to head out into the corridor and find out what was going on.\n\nAs he stepped out, he realised this was his house, but it looked so different to how he remembered. What were those paintings on the wall? They hadn't been to Africa, or New Zealand, yet there were photos of those places, with strange people in them, all over. Who were they? Why were their pictures in his house.\n\nHis house. Yes, these were intruders. Something wasn't right and these people were behind it. Alex knew that to be true now, and as he headed towards the stairs he began to feel anger welling up to replace the confusion. He saw more pictures at the bottom of the stairs, hanging over a cupboard, upon which were several items he did not know. Items that weren't his but were in his house.\n\nAlex looked at them more closely, and saw they must be mementos from those trips in the pictures. Some were tribal carvings, others were bones of some kind. None of them belonged here. None of them.\n\nA sudden crashing sound came along, and Alex turned to look for the source, but then he noticed that the carvings and the bones were scattered on the floor, and his arm was outstretched to his side. Had he just done that, knocked them down? Maybe he did. What did it matter? They didn't belong here, they weren't his.\n\n\"There!\" Alex span around to face the voice, and stood there were those people from the pictures. There were three; a man, a woman, and a young girl. Their faces seemed to be filled with terror, and the woman was pointing at the objects that now littered the floor.\n\n\"What are you doing in my house?\" Alex asked. There was no response, and the family didn't even seem to notice. Instead, the man detached himself from the other two and headed towards Alex, not once looking him in the eye, but instead looking around, as if searching for something. \"I asked you a question.\"\n\nThe man paused, and looked around a bit more frantically. The woman and girl stayed where they were.\n\n\"I said, what are you doing in MY HOUSE!\" Alex's voice boomed out as he began to yell the final words of the sentence. The man fell backwards as if in shock.\n\n\"Wh-who said that?\" The woman stammered, now also looking around like the man was. Alex didn't understand. What did they mean, 'Who said that'? He had said that. He was the one who was demanding them to answer him, these trespassers, these invaders.\n\n\"Get out.\" Again, no response. Clearly, he had to make himself heard. \"I said, GET OUT!\"" ]	2
Shamelessly stolen from a recent /r/tipofmytongue thread	[WP] "He sat down by the fire so it wouldn't have to die alone."	[ "One hundred years this fire has burned, and still burns bravely despite the raging war and distant cannons. My great grandfather struck the flint in this hearth the night he built this cabin, the start of this town, and my family has been warmed by it ever since. It was in this old wooden chair that my grandfather, God rest his soul, gave me this revolver. It was over this fire, my mother cooked the first rabbit I shot, by who's light my sister told me her fairytales, where my father would warm his frostbitten feet after a campaign in the North.\n\nMom, dad, Anna... they were taken, its just me and my home now. Those heathen Northerners broke through the gate, I can hear the screaming in the street, we have not a hope in the world. At least this fire won't have to die alone.", "I remember my father. Or, the man that I called Father.\n\nHe took me in, after the sweet lady died...was killed...what have you.\n\nHe...had a wife. She was nice, but I never called her Mother, for reasons both unknown to her and to me. But oh how Father loved her.\n\nI lived with him, and he taught me to strike the tree to get felled fruit. How to skin animals, and thank them for what they provided when I killed them.\n\nHe was a very kind man, very thoughtful.\n\nOne cold, cold winter, his wife fell and would not get back up. She bled heartily from places we couldn't see, and to this day I could not tell you what happened.\n\nBut, as was the custom of their kind, he built a fire, and gently placed his wife upon it.\n\nHe sat down by the fire so it wouldn't have to die alone.\n\nAnd then, Father withdrew a scrap piece of cloth, and covered his mouth. When he moved it, I could both smell and see blood..and I was frightened.\n\n\"Son, I know it's a hard world out there, but you'll be okay.\" He patted my head, and laid down on the rolled up blanket we brought out.\n\nI could never die.\n\nI would always spend my time watching those around me dying...much like the fire, and my Father, who coughed one last time, and stilled.", "The night was cold and the winds were picking up in speed as the man approached the light. He had been lost, cold and scared. The trail he was exploring had been covered in old detritus. More than likely, he assumed, he'd taken a wrong turn from the trail. When it had gotten dark he had found himself lost until he saw the light.\nThat light drove the man on, the promise of people or warmth out here in the woods was driving his worst fears away. The man stumbled and yelled towards the light. He was hungry and cold. A chill had started as the sun fell and he wanted nothing more than to escape it. \"Help! Please I'm lost!\" He shouted, the light was brighter now, the warm orange color if a flame. He drove himself forward into a clearing, cutting himself on a branch in his haste as he entered the campsite. A ring of blackened stones was set up around the source of heat. \n\nThe man stepped towards the fire, hands outstretched to warm them among the warm pulses emanating from the crackling wood. There seemed to be nobody else around, but at least he had some heat. \"It's nice to have someone around before you go.\"A voice came from somewhere. The man looked around but couldn't see the source. He looked where he had thought he heard it and saw only the fire. The man might have been surprised to think a fire was talking, but he was too tired, too cold. \n\nThe man shivered, and the fire seemed to grow minutely larger and brighter, accompanied by a brief spot of warmth. The man was tired, not thinking clearly and he knew it as the chill seeped into his bones as he spoke back to the fire. \"Why are you talking?\" He knew it was foolish to ask, but he wanted the company. \n\n\"I'm afraid.\" It said. \"I am but a flame and I must burn as all flames do, but eventually I shall use up this wood and I will die.\" The man nodded. It made sense. Fire always burned itself out didn't it?\n\nThe fire flickered as a gust of wind blew in. The man shivered again and closed his eyes. What was it they had said on the news? Snow tonight... flurries. The thought seemed distant now. The question was answered however, as small glittering flakes of frozen water settled against his skin and melted. The flame shuddered as the flakes came into contact with it, each being reduced to a droplet and then a waspy vapor. \n\nThe flame grew dimmer as the falling snow increased in quantity. \"Will you stay here?\" It asked. \"I do not wish to die alone.\" The man stepped closer to the fire, snow was starting to coat the fringes of his clothing and build up among the hair of his beard. The warm flame grew dimmer with the wind and the warmth faded a bit more. It was comforting to the man, he stepped closer to it to enjoy the energy it provided. \n\nThe man was tired, more tired than he thought he could be. He yawned, gazing into the fire and imagining what he might tell his friends and family tomorrow. After he was found and taken care of, would they believe him about the flame? \n\nThe fire's light darkened more, snow was building up inside of its ring of stone as its strength waned. The man looked to the fire, moving closer to it and smiling, even as its light dimmed and only embers shown through the cold, he could feel a bit of its warmth. He was so tired, but his friend now was cold as well. His eyelids were heavy and he was so tired, but his friend was cold. The man could barely keep his eyes open, so he moved closer and sat by the fire so it wouldn't die alone.\n", "Jim and Pam huddled against the fire. The flames danced in the darkness of the cave. Jim's glazed eyes stared out at the entrance. The blizzard storm was beginning raging on, but it seemed like the worst was over. A stream of blood rolled down his face, he felt woozy. He smeared the blood off with his blood soaked mitten; he caught a glimpse at his wife's concerned face as he did this. \n\n\n\n\n\"It's alright honey\" he managed to speak out. Ironically, his head dipped to the side from the lack of energy. The air leaving his body to say these words felt like the oxygen he needed to maintain his sitting upright position. \n\n\n\n\n\"Jim, you're going... be okay,\" she said as convincingly as she could. They were pro mountaineers, but with a single slip, Jim fell backwards and unluckily fell on some rocks. They daggered themselves into his shoulder blade and he hit his head pretty hard. They were trying to beat the storm on their way back, but with Jim's injury that didn't look like it was happening. \n\n\n\n\n\"Looks like the storm will be over in a few hours\", Jim's vision was beginning to skewer as he mumbled. He closed his eyes and listened to the crackle of the fire. He did a mental check of what equipment they still had left after their 3 day excursion. There wasn't much. They couldn't stick around for more than half a day. They wouldn't last anyways. They had to move as soon as they could.\n\" We're almost out of the woods. We're... only 8hours away from the town! We can make it easily!\" Her voice sounded forced. Why wouldn't it? His injury was bad, real bad. \"...Jim? you ....?\" \n\n\n\n\n\"... yeah.\" He wasn't quite sure what she said. Soon after, he stopped hearing the flickering of the fire. The light that shined passed his eyelids had faded to black. \n\n\n\n\n\"...Jim.... JIM\" He awoke to his wife patting him awake. His eyes couldn't focus. \n\"Hey babe, what's up?\" He tried to say as casually as he could. He sat up, but that was a bad decision on his part.\n\n\n\n\nHe did not really have the blood or the energy to get up. Instead of rolling up, he lifted himself a few centimetres off the ground, slammed back into the ground and began vomiting. \n\n\n\n\n\"Is the storm over?\" he grumbled. \n\n\n\"For the most part. Its died down... but ...we ... manage.\"\n\n\n\"No\" he directed his eyes towards his loving wife. He couldn't really focus on her face so be didnt know what kind of facial expression she was making. \n\n\n\n\n\"No? What... mean?\" her voice seemed so distant. He felt something drip on his face. \n\"Get help\", his voice was weak, but his mind was stronger than it ever was. There was no way he had the energy for an 8 hour trek. It would take much longer with his injury as well and they simply did not have the supplies. \n\" I'm not leaving you\" He heard her loud and clear. He smiled. He tried to raise his hand to her face, he felt her pull his hand to her face. \"I'm not leaving you\" \n\n\n\n\n\n\"... dont... be stupid.\" \n\n\n\"its not stupid.\" \n\n\n\"you're stupid\" he tried to laugh but couldn't. he settled for the smile. \n\n\n\"How am I stupid?\" he felt her face was soaked with what little feeling he had in his hands. \n\n\n\"Its only 8 hours, and then the copter to get me.\" He took a deep breathe. \"I'll be fine\" \n\n\n\"No\". She was not having any of it. \n\n\n\"We'll both make it out of this\" his eyes were closed again; his voice barely audible. He tried to brush away her tears but the pain in his shoulder prevented him from doing so.\n\n\n\n\n\nShe sat there for 15 minutes with his hand to her face. Finally, she got up. \"I'll be right back.\" She threw some wood into the fire.\nHer heart sank when she didn't get a response. \"I love you Jim.\" \n\n\n\n\n\nHe awoke with no one around. In the cave alone. It was bright and calm out. Good, he thought to himself. She's going to be alright. He looked around and saw the fire was still aflame. He crawled closer to dwindling fire with all his might. He lay next to the fire so he wouldn't have to die alone.", "He waved goodbye to his friends as they shuffled his family away. They understood, they had always understood, and he was thankful for that now more than ever. He did not know what he had done to deserve them, but I swore to figure it out and do it forever. \n\tThe pills lay heavy in his pocket, more now than they had all night. An end on his own terms, he had decided. He wanted to remember who he was, to be able to speak to his family and friends, give them a proper goodbye. \n\tHe was alone now. Free to do as he pleased with his last hours. He had entertained the idea of doing things without consequence. Shoplifting, joyrides, the kinds of things that were effectively harmless, but he knew that his mother would have cried. \n\tIf there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was his mother crying. \n\tOne last sunrise, then. A final look at the world in its most beautiful state. He would say goodbye as she said good morning. \n\tHe whistled for his dog, and she trotted around the corner. She was, by every definition, a mutt. Mottled fur that was long in some places and short in others. Eyes that struggled to take in the world around her: one blue, one brown. She was something that most people had turned away from, but they fit together in a way no one could understand. He had saved her, and now she would help him save himself. She seemed more solemn than usual, and he suspected it was because she knew this would be there last adventure. She seemed to understand. Dogs always seemed to understand. \n\tHe had already picked a location. A mountain in the middle of a city: West Rock. It had been a place of so many firsts: his first drink, first smoke, first kiss. A perfect place for the very last of everything. \n\tHis friends would come and find him in the morning. They would call the authorities, get everything official in order. He had already done most of that himself: a will of sorts lay upon his desk, signed with his favorite purple pen. It was just to simplify things, of course. His friends already knew what it was his wanted. They were even going to take care of the fluffball beside him. She would get to continue their adventures, even if he wasn’t there to share them. \n\tThe walk up to the cliff was treacherous in the best of conditions, but he knew every step by memory. Left, right, left, sidestep, watch the roots: a leap here, a duck there. He even knew a shortcut around the rock face halfway up the path. Most just tried to scale it, or developed complicated systems to hoist weaker or four legged friend up to the next part of the journey. \n\tThe stars were becoming more visible now: the clearing was just ahead. There would be no one here tonight: its usual visitors were busy preparing for finals and critiques. Better this way, he thought. Who knows what stoned college kids would think of someone dying in front of them. It would certainly make things complicated. \n\tHe was surprised to find the remains of a bonfire smoldering within the stone circle. Someone kicking off finals with a last hurrah, perhaps. He watched it struggled to breath, embers scattering when a particularly strong breeze blew by. He gathered some twigs and laid them carefully on top. He could almost see them embers realize their chance to live. They jumped and flared and the fire lived again, at least for a little while. \n\tThe fire was alive, he realized, thinking back on his years of mandated biology. It breathed, it ate, it died. It was just like every other living thing on the planet. Perhaps he was going mad at last: the doctors had mentioned it was a possible side effect, but he decided to accept it. It wasn’t like it would matter, come dawn. He was free to think as he pleased, and for him, the fire was a comrade in arms, struggling to stay alive just as he had been. \n\tThe fire finally started to die as the first bits of dawn streaked the horizon. He grabbed the pills from his pocket and downed the without a second thought. His dog leaned against his leg, somehow knowing that this was it. He knelt and kissed her brow, telling her over and over again what a good girl she’d been. How he loved her and that he’d see her again soon. She licked his face and snuggled close. \n\tI love you too, she seemed to say with every wag, every slobbered kiss, Save me a seat in heaven. \n\tHe sat down by the fire so it wouldn’t have to die alone, and watched the sunrise for the last time. \n", "I felt my heart giving out. Two weeks ago I was told it was a miracle that I was alive that day. \"Medical jargon, blah blah blah, yadda yadda, heart condition\" was all I heard as I thought about everything I hadn't done. Whatever, lamenting the past was something people with time on their hands got to do, so I started to think about what I wanted to do. It's a weird feeling needing time to plan for a lack of time. \n\nI spent the next week maxing my credit cards, and doing the normal dead-dying stuff. The only plus side to this whole thing was that I didn't have to go through the 12-steps anymore. I didn't need to stop drinking anymore, but it didn't change the fact that 6 months ago I decided I did. \n\nSo instead of just quitting, I skipped to the ninth step, making amends. it took 2 days to call everybody that needed to be called and if I'm being honest, I'm glad I only got to the step after learning I wasn't long for this world. Not a single one of them forgave. 39 years old and there wasn't a person on this planet that would attend my wake; so why bother having one.\n\nWhich brings me to now, sitting on a mountain, writing my final thoughts into a journal the weather will ruin before anyone will find it. My heart is faltering and the fire is burning out. My sleeping bag seems so inviting, but instead, I think I'll stay here. It my not be sentient, but I think I'll stay sat down by the fire; so it won't have to die alone too.", "I loaded the last of the logs upon the elaborate pile, \"King Alajin, it is done.\"\n\nThe King nodded his thanks. I watched as the old man walked along the wooden stacks, his head bowed low, his eyes glued to the ground. A gentle hand traced the edges of the mighty fallen trees, trees as mighty as our King.\n\nTears had welled in my eyes at the sight of his melancholy. When the harvest gave way to blight many years ago, King Alajin had sold all his fine jewels and gold to purchase rice for the people, even the crown of his fathers was not safe from his magnanimity. When the rains flooded the villages in the valleys, he opened the doors to his palace for the poor. When the Hordes of the North were knocking on our doors, he led the armies himself, marching on the frontlines beside his men. He had given his life for the people, and now the gods met his good with grievance.\n\nI rested a hand upon my liege's shoulder. \"She was a fine woman.\"\n\n\"Aye, that she was.\" The King glanced to the heavens, his eyes staring off into the setting sun. His voice carried through the air like a sail with no wind.\n\nThe King turned to face me, his cheeks wet with streams that glistened in the light, \"That will be all, Muhara. You can tell the others they can return to their families.\"\n\n\"We would not dream of leaving you in this hour, my King!\"\n\n\"I see.\" His wizened head of gray cast a long shadow upon the marble floor. \"You have my thanks, Muhara.\"\n\nThe King coughed, his frail lungs giving way in his old age, \"I remember the day I first saw her. She meant the world to me, even more so than my subjects.\"\n\n\"No one would ever question your love for her, my King. All of Ganarash mourns with you this day.\"\n\nHe stood there a while, a long, solemn while. As the moon began to rise and the stars began to shine, the hundreds gathered around the pyre each lit a candle in their hands.\n\n\"She was too young, your highness.\" I remarked as I handed King Alajin the torch.\n\nHe set the funeral pyre ablaze. \"Yes, the good do die young.\"\n\n\"Perhaps... it was my fault.\" His voice cracked.\n\n\"No, my liege! How could you ever think such a thought?\" \n\nHe fell to his knees, \"Because it is true.\"\n\nThe flames grew high into the sky, dancing in the moonlight. The hours passed, and the stars began to fade, and one by one the onlookers returned to their homes for the evening. Soon only the King and I were left before the pyre in the marble plaza.\n\n\"I am sorry, Alaya, I must've been a terrible father.\" I could hear him mutter beneath his breath.\n\nMy hands moved to comfort him, and my heart yearned to tell him that the girl had been blessed to have such a sire, but the words I had heard were not meant for me to hear, so I stayed my touch and tongue.\n\n\"Please, leave me Muhara.\" The king said at last, breaking the evening's silence.\n\n\"I will stay, your maj-\"\n\n\"Please, Muhara, leave a father to mourn for his daughter.\"\n\nAnd so I did. But before I walked away, my heart ached to tell my King that he was not to blame for the princess taking her own life. Yet I thought better of it. The blaze still crackling, its fiery tendrils grazing the heavens, I watched as he sat down by the fire, so it wouldn't have to die alone.\n\nThe next morning when I returned, we had found the King amidst the ashes of the pyre, burned away with his daughter.\n" ]	7
	[WP] Write about a psychotic killer who finally feels empathy for the first time	[ "He had never killed a nun before. \n\nHe was not sure why he chose one.\n\nHe saw no need to stop now. \n\nRaising his arms to complete the task, he looks at her. He did not blindfold them anymore because he liked them to try and scream, but he never looked in their eyes before. He did not know why he did not look at them, and he did not know why he looked at them now. \n\nShe was not writhing or trying to scream, but she was crying. Between sobs she was saying something. He did not know why he leaned in to hear what she was saying. Through the gag he could hear, “Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive the ones who trespass against us.”\n\n\"She is sad\"\n\nHe did not know if he heard someone say it, or if it was his own thought. But the thoughts came again. \n\n\"She is sad because she is going to die\"\n\n\"She is sad because you are going to kill her.\"\n\n“I am going to kill her” He said, and thought in a way he had not thought those words before. Inside of him, growing, a new thought. Something he did not understand. He felt not joy at seeing her tied to the table, but something different. It swelled in him as he began to cry. Beginning to realize what he had been doing for all these years he dropped the knife. This thought, this feeling, growing so fast in him now. Something hot, burning from the inside out raced through his body. \n\nAs the police break down the door, He falls to the floor. He says a single word. Quiet, more urgent than a whisper but barely noticeable. In this voice he says, “Gabriel”.\n", "Blood droplets trickled chronologically from the serration going through the nape. The occipital bone had been fragmented into petaled pattern. Then I had disconnected the atlas from the axis. That was the fun part. \n\nNext was the disposal of the body. This was the boring part.\n\nAs I inserted the body into a plastic trash bag, the partially severed cranium lolled to the side, coming to rest at an angle that no living person could achieve without injury.\n\nI thought \"That looks uncomfortable,\" as I draped another precautionary bag over the first.", "Death is eternal.\n\nEverything else fades away. Life. Laws. Nations and kingdoms. Gods. Memories. \n\nMemories fade.\n\nNot death. Death always has been and always will be.\n\nGently, he fingered the corner of the old photograph. It, too, was fading. A cloud of once-golden hair had taken on the same sepia-tone as the face it framed.\n\nPhotographs fade.\n\nWith a sigh, he climbed onto the railing. As he jumped, the photograph slipped from his fingers and fell into the water below.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nFive miles downstream, another man was hard at work. He carried his heavy burden, in a black plastic garbage bag, down to the shore. Trashman they called him. No one had to tell him they were laughing at him. They looked down on a man trying to make an honest living. He'd drive by collecting the things other people sought to throw away. He'd furnished his house collecting other people's 'garbage'. And made a decent living along the way.\n\nSometimes though, trash was just trash, and had to be disposed of.\n\nHe felt the bag start to slip from his grasp, and heaved it up on his shoulder. The ground near the river was slick with rich, dark mud. It was hard to keep his footing. As he approached the water, a hand fell through a tear in the bag. It dangled toward the ground as he walked, hitting him in the thigh.\n\nTap, tap, tap.\n\nAt the shoreline, he sat in the mud and paused to catch his breath. With no sign of either cruelty or sympathy - without any emotion at all, really - he tucked the bloated pink appendage back into the bag.\n\n\"Well, now,\" he said. \"Back to work.\"\n\nWith that, the man pulled a length of heavy cord from his coat pocket, and wrapped it around the garbage. He tied a few stones to it - not enough to sink, just enough to stay under the water on the way downriver - and carefully carried it out into the water.\n\nHe walked out until he was wet up to his chest, released the bag, and started back to shore.\n\nAs he waded, something small floated near his face, and without thinking he reached out to snatch it up.\n\nOnshore, he settled back in the mud, held it up to the moonlight, and took a look.\n\nA photograph.\n\nShe was a young woman, with a bright smile and sad eyes. Happy and sad. He'd never felt much of either. \n\nThe water hadn't done much damage to the image yet, and he could make out a faint tinge of red in her lips. The edges were worn, as if someone had pulled it out constantly. Well-loved.\n\nAnd then they'd just tossed her away.\n\nWith that, the man began to think of all the garbage - all the need in the world against all the things people throw away.\n\nSo much beauty. Such a waste.\n\nHe held the photo to his chest, and wept for the dead woman.", "\"It was an accident.\" \n\nBlood spilled out around the car, refusing to stay within the lines of the parking spaces. Mark felt himself going into shock. His mind raced, trying to figure out why this specific instance was occurring right here, right now. This wasn't the blonde! Sexy, tall, great smile... No, this body had none of those things. Mark briefly considering continuing his pursuit, but something about the victim made him pause... pause just long enough to feel remorse.\n\nLying dead, before Mark's eyes, was a large golden retriever. The idiot had been running through the parking moments before, and Mark... broke down? Misfired? Shot before he knew what he was shooting at? In any case, this dog was dead. \n\nJeff crouched low to the creature. It had a well-kept coat, a collar that said \"Molly\" on it, this creature had been beautiful. Purposeful. Loyal.\n\nAnd Mark had killed it. He barely felt the tears running down his eyes as he went in to hug the poor, deceased dog. Once in contact with the creature, Mark started sobbing. He found himself unable to let go. He thought of the home this dog had, of the days it had spent carefully guarding a family. He thought of this dog as a cute puppy playing with its littermates. No more games of fetch.\n\n\"I'm sorry!\" Mark shouted to anybody who would hear as he sat, cradling the dog in his arms. \"I'm sorry!\" \n\nFifteen minutes later, police sirens converged on the location where the twenty-three year old high school drop out and a once-beautiful golden retriever were intertwined. Mark was still sobbing when they took the dog away. \n\nHe quieted down as the police started questioning. He made no commotion when they figured out who he was and what he'd done. He gave them the name plastered all over this town of \"Beware the Parking Lot Killer\". Shortly after he was placed, handcuffed, into the back of a police car. He made no effort to fight, nor any effort to flea.\n\nAs they made that trip to the county jail, Mark's sorrow gave way to a small smirk as he pieced together what had just happened.\n\nSo I do have it.", "\"Murderer? That's a funny way to pronounce survivor. I don't kill people because my brain is malfunctioning. I am perfectly fine with a healthy mind. I've only been surviving, staying alive for as long as possible. Is that not what life is about?\"\n\nThe detective shifted uncomfortably in his chair before speaking. \"You've killed 3 children and many more that we don't know about. You are a cold-blooded murderer. God knows how many others you've killed.\" The man had a confused look on his face. \"Cold-blooded? But that's impossible,\" he stated. \"I'm a human. Humans are mammals. I've felt human blood and its always been warm.\" \n\nThe detective had never come across such an innocent-minded psycho. It sent chills down his spine. Someone like this goes unnoticed in society, just a passing face in the crowds. The only reason we ever come across these cases is when they slip-up. \"They found you in the park with 3 bodies. You had beaten and then beheaded them. Innocent children who--\" The man stared at the detective before speaking. \"Innocent? Those wretched creatures were far from innocent, Detective.\" The detective gazed at the man half in disgust and half in amazement. \n\n\"Is he safe?\" the man asked. The detective was surprised by the sudden change in tone. A sense of urgency and concern in the voice. \"You mean the dog?\" remarked the detective. The man simply nodded his head. \"That stray mutt was put down.\" The detective saw the man's eyes widen. He looked like he was about to cry. This was the first time he actually saw any emotion from the man. \"Why would that dog mean anything to you? It was just another stray wound up to die of starvation or whatever on the streets anyway.\" The man cleared his throat and once again stared at the detective, who noticed the same ferocity in the man's eyes as when they had found him in the park. \n\n\"That dog reminded me of myself. A fighter. A survivor. Those 3 \"innocent\" children were harassing him and provoking him. They pushed him past the limit and he snapped. He bit one of them and the others ran off to probably find their parents and have the dog put down. For what? Defending himself? I remember the kids that bullied me as a kid. I snapped too. Slit the first kids throat open with a pen knife. They pushed me to do it. The other two were going to tell their parents. But I didn't deserve to get in trouble. Neither did that dog. We were just protecting ourselves. Surviving.\"\n", "Look? You see? See how the knife glides, glides beautifully against the skin, painting red a single line across the \nbelly?\n\nIt's beautiful. How can they not see?\n\nCan they not see the pain I see now, in the twitching of the muscles in your face? Can they not see how beautiful it is? How helpless you feel? How \nmuch power is in my hands?\n\nFrom the darkness you came, by the light of God, or whatever you wanna call it. Whatever it is that gives us the \nbreath of life. And now, how funny is it? That giving life is, in itself, so rare, so unfathomable... But taking it \naway... so easy.\n\nAnd why is it wrong? How can it be? If it was someone else who gave you life, why can't someone else take it away? Why are we so harsh to judge on the act of killing?\n\nIsn't it as natural as breeding, when you look at it carefully?\n\nIs it not, also, a part of life?\n\nDo you feel it? The metal against your throat? Do you feel how easy it is? One moment, right here, right now... \nYou are with me. And with a single movement...\n\nNo not yet.\n\nYou are bleeding. All over your body. Can you feel it? Can you understand? How beautiful it is that I will never craft life form thin air, yet... I can take it away.\n\nI can bring you the unknown with a $5,99 kitchen utensil. Isn't that almost like... magic?\n\nIsn't that... existentialist? Weird?\n\nI don't know.\n\nWhat is the word? Contradictory? Paradoxical?\n\nThat I feel so alive by knowing I can take away life.\n\nDo you feel it, too?\n\nI take a deep breath, feeling the ropes tight against my wrist, the tape sticking to my dry lips as I try to swallow.\n\nI take a deep breath and I close my eyes -- more for effect, since I'm already blindfolded -- and I whisper.\n\nYes. I feel it, too.\n\nHe runs the knife across my neck, and I feel the blood drip carefully away and slide like tears down my skin.\n\nMore than that, I feel like, after all these many years of killing prostitutes and hobos I --\n\nYou think I'm going to say I got what I deserve, right? That I'm tasting my own poison. That this is karma.\n\nBut no. What I feel is relief.\n\nWhat I feel is that deep breath of relief, like when you're between sleep and real life -- that blurry line of imagination when you realize that, what you thought was real and horrifying and final was, in the end, just a bad dream.\n\nWhat I feel is happiness, and how I feel is accepted. Normal.\n\nA feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune. What they call compassion. \n\nThat there is someone else out there like me. That even though I will die, that feeling -- that burning feeling inside me lives in someone else's heart and soul.\n\nThat I wasn't alone, after all.\n\nHush.\n\n", "There was a scream from behind the door. A harsh one. It had bite in it, and in that instant, Jeff hesitated from kicking in the door. His knee had already been picked up to his chest and the breath he inhaled was already turning stale in his lungs, but still he held it in when he heard the words \"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!\" roar from just inside the door. \n\n\n\"Huh?\" Jeff whispered, slowing letting out the sigh and setting his booted foot back down on the concrete. The grip he held on his knife loosened, but not enough to let go. \"You say that?\" He said, tapping his knuckles to his forehead as if he were knocking on a door. \"You there?\"\n\n\nThe screaming voice, it sounded exactly like the one that lived inside his own mind, the one that was burrowed deep beneath the skin and skull, tunneled into the center of his brain as if it were a mole. Whenever that mole wanted blood, it burrowed deeper, making that itch that Jeff had grown so accustomed to. The itch was horrific, and no matter how deep Jeff scratched, he couldn't ever get to it. No, not physically. The deep scar running across his forehead was proof for that.\n\n\nThe only way to scratch the itch was to spill the blood. Blood was what it took to satiate the burrowing mole.\n\n\n\"SHUT THE FUCK UP!\"\n\n\n\"Oh?\" Jeff said lightly, still standing outside the doorway of the apartment belonging to the blonde girl he had been tailing earlier in the day. She had headphones in and held some sort of vanilla-flavored coffee bullshit. She had no idea that Jeff was following her. She wasn't the perfect score, but the mole in his head wasn't exactly picky. \n\n\nBut now, Jeff didn't know. Those screams coming from inside, they sounded just like his mole.\n\n\n\"You okay?\" Jeff whispered.\n\n\n\"SON OF A BITCH!\"\n\n\n\"Oh, I know how that is,\" he whispered again. He placed a hand on the door and felt the cold metal sting his skin. \n\n\n\"FUCKING COCKSUCKER!\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, I know how that feels too,\" he said, feeling the mole start to burrow around in his own mind, what are you waiting for you dickfuck? run in there and slit her goddamn throat!\n\n\n\"Oh, but she's got one too,\" Jeff whispered, \"she's got one of you in her head. Can't you hear it?\" I don't hear shit you fuckbag, get in there!\n\n\n\"FUCK OFF!\"\n\n\n\"You see, you dirty little mole, she's got one of you in her head, you hear it?\"\n\n\nThe mole shifted in his head, burrowing deeper, but Jeff ignored the itch. He wanted to meet her, wanted to ask her how she dealt with her mole. Maybe she killed too? Or perhaps she had found a different way to get the mole to shut up? He could ask her.\n\n\n\"I could ask her.\"\n\n\nShe hadn't locked the door, he would have heard the key go in and turn after she had shut it, but he didn't. It would be as easy as turning the handle and walking in. She'd know, right?\n\n\n\"Oh yeah, she'd know,\" fucking kill her, \"no, shut the fuck up you dirty mole, I'm thinking,\" thinking? you dumb piece of shit, \"shhh. Quiet now.\"\n\n\nJeff ran the blade across his forehead, leaving a large gash trailing across the already grotesque scar. Blood trickled down the bridge of his nose and dripped off of his brow. It felt good. It felt good to bleed, and he knew it would at least shut the mole up, even if it were for a few minutes. Oftentimes the mole would call him stupid, but it was the mole who was idiotic for not being able to tell the difference between Jeff's blood and someone else's. \n\n\n\"GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!\" The voice from inside the apartment screamed. \n\n\n\"Oh no,\" Jeff said, hand on the door handle. \"Is the mole making you hurt yourself?\" \n\n\nHe twisted the handle and threw his shoulder into the door, instantly feeling the warmth of the apartment encase his body. He looked around, having trouble focusing his vision thanks to a few drops of blood that had managed to get into his eyes. \n\n\n\"I know how to shut the mole up,\" Jeff mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand, \"I know how to get him to be quiet!\"\n\n\n\"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?\"\n\n\nWhen Jeff finally cleared his vision, he saw that the girl had been sitting in a recliner, video game controller in hand and a headset on. Within an instant, it clicked that she didn't have a mole. She had just been yelling at people on the video-game.\n\n\n\"You don't have a mole?\" Jeff whispered, again feeling his mole burrow around.\n\n\nI told you, you fucking dumbass.\n\n\n\"Shut up,\" Jeff whispered, his voice cracking from disappointment.\n\n\n\"GET OUT OR ELSE I'LL CALL THE POLICE!\"\n\n\n\"Why don't you have a mole?\" Jeff said, grip tightening around the handle of his knife.\n\n\nShe continued to scream at him, probably more things about getting out, but Jeff couldn't hear her over the sound of his mole burrowing in his mind, urging Jeff to kill, kill, kill.\n\n\n\"I thought you had one.\"\n\n" ]	7
	[WP] You're a rookie cop and it's your first day on the job. When you encounter a drunk guy disturbing the peace in an alley, he turns into a dragon and you hear your partner say "Not again..."	[ "My partner and I opened fire, emptying both of our 15-rd clips into the dragon. It was only then we realized it wasn't a dragon at all, just an old homeless man.\n\nBillings and I exchanged looks. He shrugged, yelled, \"Stop resisting!\" and shot the hobo several more times in the face.\n\nIt was weird about the whole dragon thing, probably some kind of adverse reaction to the new line of department prescribed steroid/speed pills. No worries though, Billings had his camera off and mine had been disabled since the day they made me strap the damn thing on. \n\nBesides it wasn't like it was an infant asleep in a crib this time ... the 3-day suspension with pay I got slapped with on that shoot really sucked. Fucking kid adopted an aggressive posture and refused to comply with my demands - what else was I supposed to do?\n\nThe gunfire had ceased. Billings had holstered his sidearm and was tasing the old man's corpse, giggling as he watched it twitch. The odor of burning flesh and hair mixed with the coppery smell of blood pooling in the alleyway. I breathed it in deep, then lifted my head to the uncaring heavens above and screamed, \"Show me your hands!\" and began firing randomly into the crowd of savage, menacing orcs that had gathered at the end of the alley.", "\"Damnit Craig\", Stevens said angrily, \"Weve had this talk before\"\n\nI stood in shock. Stevens had told me that there would be weird shit on a daily basis. He hadnt told me they would take the shape of a motherfucking dragon. The damn thing stood a good 2 stories tall had fangs like knives and scales like plates but the eyes were off. Even with a lizards eyes i could tell he was a sad drunk.\n\n\"You always talk\", the dragon slurred, \"why dont we fight, you think your so tough with that gun of yours.\"\n\nCraig raised his right claws and poked stevens hard. If it were not for the bullet vest I would imagine that the wound it would have inflicted would have been fatal. Instead stevens was just put off balance and pissed off. \n\n\"Do you remember the last time you started a fight\", Stevens growled, \"we had those blackcoats out here, couldnt get them out of our precinct for months, alot of good people were harassed because of that\"\n\nCraig stumbled and fell on his bottom. He was not sobering up anytime soon and i wasnt waking up anytime soon for that matter. The whole thing just kept getting more bizzare. I opened my mouth to ask stevens a question but before i could even get it out the dragon burped fire, burped...fire. Suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit me and i was on my knees, laughing my ass off.\n\n\"Whats so funny\", craig slurred angerly, \"Are you laughing at me?\"\n\nCraig stumbled as he made his way towards me, he had a good few steps to get to me but they were made into miles with his drunken stupor. Stevens scowled at me, i was making the situation worse but i could not help it. Nothing could beat a fireburping drunken dragon. By the time craig had made it to my position he had stumbled five more times and burped the colors of the rainbow.\n\n\"Do you want to end up dead\", stevens yelled at me.\n\nThat comment calmed me down and i got serious again. While amusing a drunken dragon is not a good thing to let out onto the streets. Suddenly it occurred to me what was wrong with out fiery disturber. I let him get up to me and take a threatening position. Stevens pulled out his gun but i waved to him to hold up on it.\n\n\"You think your some tough guy dont you\", the insult was meant to be menacing but between the burping purple fire and the slurring it only made him more amusing.\n\nI swallowed the laughter, it nearly killed me to do it. I looked him straight in the eyes and without missing a beat i cowered. I cried and i trembled. \"Please dont kill oh mighty dragon, ive got a kid and wife to take care of\"\n\nThe dragon looked at me drunkenly, swaying back and forth. Suddenly a toothy grin broke through his jowls and he laughed.\n\n\"Finely some respect\", craig said proudly, \"ive still got it, you could take some pointers from your new partner\"\n\nCraig looked triumphant, as if winning a huge battle. He swaggered around for a bit and gave me more 'fearsome' stares. Then turning around he assessed his battlefield.\n\n\"I suppose ive caused enough destruction tonight\", craig slurred, \"I hit that lampost so hard it turned into two posts\".\n\nSlowly craig began flapping his wings, then stopped. He looked at his wings confused, as if seeing them for the first time again. Letting out another colored flare burp he began to flap his wings again but this time walking as well, he obviously thought he was flying away majestically. Turning the corner to the alley we heard a crash and then loud snoring.\n\n\"What the hell was that shit you just pulled\", stevens yelled at me, \"were you trying to get killed?\"\n\n\"I just cant believe he bought it\", i replied, \"at least hes out cold now, want to book him?\"\n\nStevens lit a cigarette and breathed it in deep. Letting the smoke out through his nose he looked at me and said, \"Nah, he just breaks out when we try that. Lets finish our rounds, i rather deal with the bridge trolls than this guy at least they have good booze.\"", "“Not again…”\n\nAndrews’ words were enough to make me pause, my hand on my Colt .38. Glancing over, I watched the annoyance on his craggy, old face bleed into exasperation. I slowly let my hand drop to my side as I turned to ask Andrews what I needed to be doing. \n\n“Andrews, wha-”\n\n“Not right now, Summers. Just...give me a moment.” Andrews turned away from me, as well as the green dragon rolling around on the blood-soaked pavement. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Andrews repeated some of the calming phrases we were taught at the anger-management meeting on Thursday. Before we had left the station Andrews had told me to just keep my mouth shut and watch, but I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to apprehend the drunk for public intoxication, or if this warranted a public indecency charge. Rocking back on my heels, I waited for Andrews to get his head back into the game. \n\nAndrews finally turned back to me, just...looking. He motioned for me to leave the alley. True, it was protocol that senior officers deal with the effects of the shady dealings of our dragon overlords, but this was my first assignment, dammit, and I wasn't about to go anywhere.\n\n“No way, I spent months getting coffee for you before I finally got to go out. I’m not leaving.” My words may have been too direct to a senior officer, but this was my chance to get the other guys to take me seriously.\n\nAndrews looked at me some more, before making up his mind and nodding.\n\n“Go get the briefcase out of the car. This is gonna be a messy one, if they just let him wander around before he changed.”\n\nSmiling to myself, I headed to the car. I was happy to finally be able to combat the terrors of the dragon mafia that invaded my beloved hometown.\n\n--------------------------------------\nSome feedback would be nice, this is the first thing I've written in a while. I'm especially bad about changing tenses, so all critique is welcome. :)", "The dragon kept rising, growing to an impossible size. What used to be a homeless drunk staggering in an alley was now a golden scaled dragon over forty feet tall. Barry looked at his gun and felt it lacking for the task before him.\n\n\"Not again. Oh this shit gets real tired. We got to move! Now!\" he grabbed Bart by the collar and the two men fled the alley before a wave of fire engulfed the area. \n\nA horrible roar filled the air as the dragon suddenly took flight. Barry felt pinned to the ground by the wind of the wings beating. He knew he was at the mercy of the beast and if it decided to swipe at him with a claw or rain down more fire he'd be dead. \n\nThe dragon elected to ignore the two policemen and it stopped hovering and started flying toward downtown. \"The fuck was that?\" Barry yelled.\n\n\"How should I know?\" Zach replied. \n\n\"Because you said not again. You've dealt with shit like this before.\"\n\nZach grimaced, the truth of what he'd said meant he was going to have to do some explaining. \n\n\"Look kid, you got a wife, you got a baby, I'm just trying to protect you from some really horrible shit.\" Zach told him.\n\n\"I nearly got killed by a dragon! I don't think you're doing that good of a job protecting me.\" Barry said. \n\n\"Yeah the dragon sucked, but if you really want to go down this rabbit hole you better be ready to have your world turned upside down.\" \n\n\"It's pretty upside down already, let's go all the way on this.\" \n\nZach thought about it and then pulled out his phone. \"We got an idiot here who wants to know about the genie. Of course he's been exposed, I'd never make this call if he hadn't been. Get out here and let's get him to understand the nightmare he's living in.\" with that he hung up.\n\nWithin five minutes a black car with tinted windows rolled up. Zach motioned for Barry to get in the car. The second Barry's ass hit the seat he was zapped by a taser and left senseless. \n\nHe awoke in a small room with an open door. He walked out the door to a massive hive of humanity working on computers with giant screens overhead that had images of dragons, krakens, and other legendary beasts. The middle screen showed what appeared to be a small golden statue with tiny wings. Zach walked over to him. \n\n\"Sorry about the rough ride. But security is vital here.\" Zach told him as he handed him a coffee.\n\n\"What's with the weird pixie thing in the middle?\" Barry said and suddenly klaxons began blaring and people started screaming and running in all directions.\n\n\"Of all the fucking words you had to say that one.\" Zach hissed. \n\nBefore anything else could be said the figure on the screen manifested itself in the room. It floated above Barry's head. \n\n\"You wish to be the champion? To save the world?\" The little statue asked. \n\n\"Don't talk to it!\" Zach screamed, all sorts of devices began pointing at the statue, guns were being loaded and cocked all around the room. \n\n\"Sure I'll save the world.\" Barry said. A bright light washed over him as he heard the screams from everyone in the building falling away. \n\nSuddenly Barry was alone in a giant arena. Then the dragon landed and the statue followed it.\n\n\"Kill the dragon! Save the world! If dragon kill you everybody die!\" The statue said gleefully. \n\n\"I can't. I have no means to kill it. I'll just die the moment it attacks me. This isn't fair.\" \n\n\"Fair?\" the statue asked. \n\n\"Yes fair. For something to be fair both sides have to have a chance to win.\" Barry said. \n\nIn a blink suddenly the dragon was the size of a small house cat and Barry had a sword slung over his back and an AR-15 in his hands with three clips hanging from his belt. \n\n\"Fair?!\" The statue asked. \n\n\"No, this isn't fair. I'll kill the dragon without any effort.\"\n\n\"But this way you win! Everyone live!\" The statue said. \n\n\"Yes but that doesn't make it fair. Just because I'm now the one that's going to win doesn't mean it's right.\" Barry didn't know why he felt that explaining the concept of fairness to this alien being was more important then all life on the planet, but he had a feeling deep in his soul that coming to an understanding with this being was something that had to be done.\n\nAnother flash of light. Now the dragon was roughly the size of a tiger, and one of the ammo clips Barry had was gone. \n\n\"Fair?!\" The statue asked. \n\n\"Yeah, fair.\" Barry said with a nod. \n\n\"Save the world!\" the statue cheered. It then winked out of existence. The dragon jerked it's head back and blasted a wave of fire at Barry who jumped and rolled to the side. \n\n\"Well I've got myself in it now.\" Barry said as he loaded his gun and opened fire. The duel to save the world had begun. " ]	4
	[WP] A cult revives a evil that had died long ago, but this evil is too busy soaking in the modern world to lay waste to it.	[ "\"Lord, I-I think we n-need to have a talk.\" Cassius stuttered.\n\n\"Nah, we're good bruh.\" Responded Ogan the Putrid, as he scrolled through the tumblr app on his new smartphone. \n\n\"No, but m-my lord,\" Cassius continued, \"y-your writings said you'd bring an end to all g-good. It was said that upon your arrival all d-decency would be destroyed and your chosen few would live lives of p-purity. Of t-true hedonism!\" \n\n\"Yeh.\" Ogan flipped his phone sideways. He'd gotten bored and had opened netflix. \n\n\"M-my lord, please. We summoned you a week ago and y-you haven't even left our basement. You've just had us bring you processed food and electronics. I well and t-truly don't understand.\" \n\nOgan paused Robocop 2 and looked up into the mirror that Cassius had provided so that none of the cultists would go insane looking directly into his 'eyes'. \n\n\"When was I last alive?\" Ogan asked.\n\n\"U-umm, eons before creation, m-my lord.\" \n\n\"And that's when I won. I truly don thank you for reviving me though. and bringing me from those young imbeciles in the void. All of them spouting, 'And the man-things will eat the flesh of their brothers and menstrual blood will spew forth from the earth and all the beasts will start fucking each other and yadda yadda.'\" \n\n\"W-what do you mean you w-won?\"\n\n\"I mean I w-won.\" Ogan replied, finally mocking Cassius's stutter. It was beginning to annoy him and it annoyed him further because he'd suggested vocal therapy to Cassius when he was first resurrected and Cassius still hadn't schedule an appointment. \n\nOgan saw the continued look of befuddled confusion on the small cultist leader's face and knew that he'd have to elaborate to the slow creature. \n\n\"Humans are selfish. In all things. There is no good, only self-service. A lot of scientists relate our behaviors to tribalism, but tribalism is only there to serve the individual. To have a support system for him and the things he cares about.\n\n\"Now, you might think, 'Oh, like their family and friends? Does that not mean he cares about them?' And while that might be basically true, it's not quite. Those function as a support system for the individual as well. They provide him with things. A wife is there to emotionally support him and physically pleasure him and a friend is there to emotionally support another aspect of him and be present when the individual is in need of favors. \n\n\"'But what about \"selflessness,\"' you might continue, 'what about when an individual helps someone else?' And to that I respond that it's still self serving. They only help another so that that other might still be there for them. They only help another because it makes them feel 'good'. It tickles that little part of their monkey brain -and I know their apes but they fucking look the same- but it tickles that part of their brain so they help others. When in reality, there is only the need to gain pleasure from it. There is only the need to gain pleasure from all aspects of life. Some suffer because of this but they don't care because they're not made to care. They're made to feel like they care so that they may feel good about 'caring', but continue to serve their own needs and their own wants. I've won. Hedonism rules. Humans are my chosen few.\" \n\nCassius stood, mouth agape. \"Oh my god.\" \n\n\"Yes, I am,\" Ogan the Putrid replied, restarting Robocop 2, \"And listen to that. It's the first time you've said something without stuttering. You're welcome.\" ", "\"Gungar the Terrible, twister of talons, burner of babies! Please, take this crippled earth and destroy it!\" Jan said, her sorority sisters surrounding her. They only had bathrobes, but they thought the deep red shadows cast by Gungar made them all seem deep and evil. Even if Yuna had fucking bunnies on her robe. Fuck Yuna. \n\n\"What the fuck is that?\" Gungar asked, his voice deep. He cause Yuna to wet herself. His thirteen arms flailed around him.\n\nKate was on her phone again. She looked up. \"Sorry, I have to text Brad.\" \n\n\"Everyone is going to die!\" Jan screamed. \"Even us. Why would you text him?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Jan, not all of us want to watch the people we love boil alive without at least a warning,\" Kate snapped. Gungar was right beside her. He reached out and took the phone.\n\nKate sighed. \"Really? Hey, hey, at least let me show you how it works.\" \n\n\"Is no one going to burn the world alive...?\" Jan screamed. \"Really?\" \n\nGungar and Kate were crowded around the phone. \"This is called Reddit...\"" ]	2
	[WP] Teenagers demand that standardized testing for graduation from high school be eliminated, when they are refused, a teenager revolution begins.	[ "They sat on the couch: silent, watching.\n\nThe protest had begin peacefully enough, as they do. The kids had gathered on the Common; they had their signs and chants and occasional megaphone. They spoke, firmly at first, to the sizable police presence, kitted in their finest riot gear behind low barriers, the occasional German Shepherd visibly restrained but obvious enough to inspire obedience. Eventually, the speaking rose to shouting, and then screaming. The natural jostles and raised fists of the crowd spilled over the barriers just slightly too far. Someone threw a rock. These things happen.\n\nThe police responded in kind, at first. But not long after the first bottles began raining onto the squad cars the officers had set aside pepper sprays and pressure points for nightsticks and rubber bullets. It didn't take long before this particular chapter of Reform America lied prone and bleeding on the grass, terrified and in pain.\n\n'Oh my God,' she said, face in her hands, through tears.\n\n'How could they do this? Those animals! They were only kids!'\n\nShe began to sob. An angry noise he knew meant she was in no less pain than many of those young reformers that had taken a club to the face, or found themselves breathless in a cloud of tear gas.\n\nHe looked at her then, as she was. He looked at the television screen. He looked out the window. And he knew that something was deeply wrong with his country.\n\n'When I was a kid, we had to take tests. We didn't like them, and we knew they didn't really measure much anything of importance, but we took them anyway. Yeah, we bitched about it, but we never felt insulted by it. Everyone had to take the tests. Still do. It was just something we did. Some people did better than others, sure, but mostly we all did alright.\n\nNowadays, the tests mean everything. I doubt they've gotten much better at testing anything, but they're more important now, they mean something more real. You can't just be okay anymore, you have to excel or you're not good enough for the world. It's tough being a kid now, to know that you can be weighed, measured, and found objectively not good enough.\n\nAnd it's even tougher to know that some people are good enough. Some people are better. You don't see any of those people lying in their own blood and someone else's vomit on the television. They don't have to be there; they don't have anything to fight for. Because they were judged preeminent by someone else's standard, while others were left behind.\n\nSo all these poor kids that aren't special, these poor misguided kids get together and demand to be treated as equals, and what happens? Look at that TV. That's what happens. It's disgusting, isn't it? When a group of mediocre people whine and bitch about how they don't measure up? When they demand the world lower the bar so they can lazily hop over it? Everyone's a victim these days. No one's responsible for anything anymore, not even a little.\n\nI have to say, there's something heartwarming about something being put in its rightful place. Socks in the sock drawer, car in the garage, whiny little bitches crying on the ground.\n\nJust feels good.'\n\nThe sobbing had stopped, seemingly of its own accord, and she simply sat now, staring.\n\nHe shrugged and changed the channel.", "Chairmen Sweeney was not pleased. Bathing under the halogen lamps, his office glowed in a sterile radiance. The cold white gleaned off every surface and exposed the scowl that Sweeney hid outside of the room. He sat at his desk, metallic and mint green, with its chipping paint and rusted surface. Like himself, the desk had succumbed to the cynicism of time and experience. \n\nFor the past week, the country was in chaos. Several school rebellions had taken place in California, Maryland, Detroit, and New York to name a few. Parents were complaining that their kids had given up on school or no longer engaged in life. Teachers were quitting by the masses. Police were placed on every corner of every street to maintain a unstable peace, aware that at any second, there very presence could incite riot. The joys of running education on a national level.\n\nHis computer sat in front of him on his desk. Every pixel packed into the screen glared back in a algorithm of red, blue, green, forming its own virtual interpretation of pointillism. His email was opened and a single notification flashed on the screen. Sweeney clicked it and the monitor spit out a download bar, filling up the empty strip with green until the download was finished. A video window popped open and immediately started playing.\n\nThe computer played Van Gogh again with the millions of micro dots across the screen to display three boys standing behind a wall. Each one wore a mask with a number on it. From left to right it read: S1, S3, S4. Other than the masks on their faces, nothing about their clothes were out of the ordinary. Two of them wore hoodies with jeans while the boy in the middle chose to wear a black, guerilla style field jacket. On top of the cargo pants, he was armed to the teeth in endless pockets. \n\nA fourth figure, a female, appeared on the screen dragging a limp, shaking mass of flesh with a bag over its head. He was wearing a badge over his black, slim fit t-shirt with the words \"Student Marshall\" printed on the front. The muscles he carried could have fooled a lesser man into believing that he was a source of intimidation. When the masked boy, S1, stepped forward and ripped the bag off his face, muscle and brawn was not enough to shake the fear he felt in the room filled with masks and numbers.\n\n\"I know what you are trying to do,\" S1 spoke through the speaker grill, \"every year you produce more brain dead fucks like this to be complacent and comfortable in the factory line of bureaucracy.\"\n\nThe Student Marshall kneeling on the ground had tears building up around his pink swollen eyes. Snot dripped from his nose, returning him to a time as a child, being scolded for his wrongdoings.\n\n\"Please, I didn't do anythi...,\"\n\nHe never got to say what he didn't do. The boy in the S4, a big hulk whose body barely fit in the baggy, red hoodie, lifted his hand high into the air and brought it down the kinetic impact that landed right over Student Marshall's ear. The sound of thunder roared through the room followed by a squeal of a human pig.\n\n\"This is exactly what I am talking about,\" said S1,\" Children looking up to those who are continually trying to control the present. Those from the past who have outlived their welcome grasping at the last chain of command that they have so they can remain relevant.\"\n\nHe pulled out a folded stack of papers from his back pocket and showed it to the camera. The lens took a few seconds to adjust until the words \"High School Standardized Testing 2025\" became clear. \n\n\"Student Marshall,\" said S1, \" Have you taken this?\"\n\nThe boy continued to shake on the ground as he reluctantly responded \"yes.\"\n\nS1 flipped through the packet until he found a question. He told the Student Marshall to answer it.\n\n\"If in a situation where the police seems to be harassing a citizen, what do you do?\" read S1.\n\n\"I would keep walking to my destination. The police are more than capable of handling the situation.\"\n\n\"Why is it right for intellectual property to remain in favor of big corporations?\"\n\n\"For the advancement of creativity with their large sums of money to be put into more expansive projects.\"\n\n\"Why are more and more schools allowed to be in control of their students?\"\n\n\"For proper child rearing that may not be available to them at home.\"\n\nS1 crumpled up the packet and stuffed it into the boy's mouth. Muffled noises from the clogged hole were replaced with desperate, dulled screams as S3 pulled out a revolver. The sound of a single round blasted through the room and the screams were no more. S1 stepped forward into the camera.\n\n\"This message has been sent to every major school, board, and educational organization across the country. When you aren't producing robots or apathetic, dimwitted, fuck heads who want to graduate so they can have a chance at working pointless jobs, your producing us. Call us rebels, call us terrorists. But we refuse to be controlled by the past any longer. It is time for change, and if that requires chaos, we will wield it as our weapon.\"\n\nThe girl who dragged the nameless sack of flesh reappeared on the screen followed by three others. They lined up and formed a triangular formation. Now the masks read from S1 to S7. \n\n\"Let the shot fired from our revolver signal the end of this system in place. The death of this drone will spark the start of our educational revolution. So we are no longer forced bullshit to our minds but fed food for our soul. To those out there, student, staff, parent, or the concerned, who care about the future, join us or root for us on our crusade. To the educational tyrants of this country that teach complacency and apathy, welcome to our Ragnarok.\t\n\nThe screen went black and was replaced by a single, red symbol stylized as a blood red stamp that read \"7S.\" Sweeney could only stare back as the stamp mocked him from behind the black mirror. After a throwing his computer against the wall and watching it shatter, he picked up his phone and called his secretary.\n\n\"Barbara, call the NSA. We need to start digging. Tell them I need information on the keywords \"7S.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] The real reason Canadians are so nice to everybody is so that everybody owes them a favor. Today, they're cashing in on every single one.	[ "“Well it’s aboot frickin time, eh?” Jim Butcher spoke to the T.V.\n\n“What’s that dear?” His wife, Karen, called from the kitchen. She was preparing the nightly poutine.\n\n“Eh? Ah nothing, Babe. I was just listening to the news, I turned it to the CBC and holy smokes, lo-and-behold, it’s Dependence Day.” Jim scratched his exposed belly that was poking through his red and black flannel. He eased himself up from his chair and belched loudly. He moved his way to the kitchen and leaned against the kitchen island.\n\nKaren was looking as fine as ever with a nice rosy touch to her cheeks. Jim sidled up behind her and goosed her bottom playfully.\n\n“Jim!” Karen whipped around with a scandalous look on her face.\n\n“Whaat? Can’t I show my wife a little love on Dependence Day?” Jim grinned wolfishly.\n\n“What if the boys come down, eh? See their old dad acting muskier than a moose in Saskatchewan summer?” Karen always had a way with words when she was cooking the nightly poutine.\n\n“The boys are at the rink! Larry took ‘em down! It’s just me and my lumberjack mistress…” Jim growled and kissed his wife’s neck.\n\n“Oh Jim” Karen pushed him and exhaled a puff of air, blowing a few strands of loose hair from her eyes. “Let me finish this up, you go outside and watch the mounties come by for Dependence Day.”\n\nJim rolled his eyes and and grabbed his coat and tuqe from the rack. He walked outside the front door and stood on the front step. The mounties were riding their horses down the lane, as was customary on Dependence Day. Jim’s neighbor, Dan, was sitting on his respective doorstep drinking a Molson.\n\n“Howdy, Jim!” Dan called across the yard. He rose up from his step and stretched. Dan had skater’s knees from his days in the juniors. He stiffly toddled over to Jim’s step.\n\n“Eh, Dan!” Jim mumbled, eyeing Dan’s Molson hungrily. \n\nDan noticed Jim’s hungry eyes. “Eh, you want one Jim?” \n\n“Well, I’d say yes please if you had one.”\n\n“Holy smokes, Jim! Dontcha know me at all?” Dan reached into his back pocket. “Always keep one for the road!” He tossed it over to Jim.\n\n“Thank you!” Jim’s surliness improved a little. The beer was warm but it’d do.\n\n“You’re welcome!” Dan sipped his beer happily. “So ya hear what we’re askin for this year? For D-Day I mean.”\n\n“Nah, barely knew it was today. Just turned on the tv while I was on the chesterfield.” \n\nDan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well holy hell, Jim, you been living in a beaver dam? We’re cashing them all in today!”\n\nJim would have spat out his beer if he were a younger man. But he wasn’t. So he didn’t. “You gotta be kiddin’ me, all of ‘em?” He was politely incredulous.\n\nDan nodded gravely, “All of ‘em. You’re not going to believe what for…”\n\n“Now pardon me, Dan, but I gotta know!” Jim was getting a little riled up.\n\nDan let the suspense build a little with a meaningful silence. “Winter Olympics. Yearly.”", "France, Russia, China. India, and even North Korea.\n\nWhat do all those countries have in common, you ask? Their leaders owe us a favour. Today, we cash in. All hail the Queen.\n\nHollande, Putin, Xiaoping, Modi and Jong-Un knelt at my feet. All were quivering. How strange. Then again, they didn't have their little suitcases of death.\n\n\"Pledge your loyalty to the Queen or face your country being nuked and uninhabitable for the next millennium. I have gravity missiles hovering over each and every square inch of all your countries. Choose wisely.\"\n\nLittle Kim was the first one to rise.\n\n\"No-\", he began. \n\nI cut him off. \n\n\"Launch the nukes and missiles for Pyongyang. You know that South Korea will blame you for the collateral damage, right? Someone bring Kim a screen so he can watch his little country go down in flames.\"\n\nObama rose.\n\n\"How can you destroy us without destroying Canada as well? I object.\"\n\n\"I am targeting the southern part of America. Damage should spread to the northern part. If it doesn't, I have others locked onto the middle. Here, watch.\"\n\nI saw a message flash on the screen: North Korea destroyed, it read.\n\n\"You mother-\", Kim started\n\nI ended him with a .50 to his head. \n\n\"Hey Barack, you think South Korea's going to blame you? You're the only country that really hates North Korea.\"\n\nUSA destroyed\n\n\"You know that-\"\n\nBang. Obama down and out.\n\nPutin seemed to be conferring with Hollande, Xiaoping and Modi.\n\n\"Gentlemen?\"\n\n\"You leave us no choice. We pledge our allegiance.\", Putin called out in surrender. I could hear a hint of loss and sadness in his voice.\n\n\"Good. Let the celebrations begin.\"\n\n", "&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The lords and kings and ministers and presidents of all the continents, even from the frozen wastes of Sovereign Antarctica, were gathered informally before Pearson Who Came Again in the grand hall of the Secretariat as one would in the home of a warm acquaintance who never bolts his doors, but all in attendance knew it to be a show of power by Canada Ascendant. \n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"You shant deny the whim of the Savior of the Suez, who averted the death of the world by atomic fire,\" said the minister, who stood stiffly yet in a friendly sort of way. \n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Aye, what he says is true,\" admitted the Godking of Nouvelle Zaire. \n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"And their temperament is akin to their syrups of legend,\" said the first of four Nihon Ministers, \"Their sweetness cannot be denied,\" finished the third.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Leader of the Free World^(®), who is never impressed, was not so forthcoming in praise.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"So speak it then,\" she spat in the unmistakable capitalist drawl of the under-neighbor, \"What is it that you want?\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pearson Who Came Again shifted his stance a little, looking hard at the woman.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"We ask you pledge fealty to the Maple Leaf.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There was a stunned silence, and then a murmur.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"You dare us pledge fealty to your queen?\" blared the woman, insolently and recklessly.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Nay,\" Replied the Minister in his most serene tongue, \"Her Majesty the Royal Automaton, The Deathless and Wise, belongs to us. When I say you make your pledge before the Maple Leaf, you recognize the Great White North as the first among equals.\" He then gestured to the surly men gathered astride him. \"The Commonwealth already knows this.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Is that so generous?\" asked the she-leader of The Free and Brave, again goading the man.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Were I a weaker being I would see your peoples be slaves fit for nothing less than the caretake of our hybrid-electric moose or the forming of hockey pucks,\" answered He, indulging the audacity, \"But I am Canadian. This arrangement shall be adequate. You owe it to us.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The pride of the Leader of the Free World^® was not so easily stanched. She took a bold step towards the Minister, and then grandly turned around to face the leaders of the not-as-free world.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Is it kindness if payment is demanded?\" She said to her colleagues in that familiar tone, \"What leverage is there when it is between allies and friends? These terms are not friendly, they are poison tasting of smiles and apologies, made to weaken our resolve until we are nothing but dogs who wag our tails at the barest mention of hockey.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pearson Who Rose Again quickly lost his amusement with the Capitalist. He withdrew from his jacket a small hatchet ground into the profile of a maple leaf and thrust it into the backside of the Former Leader of the Free World^(tm). She fell very suddenly and without much fuss.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Admittedly, she speaks the truth,\" he said in a very plain way. \"Now unless you wish yourself join this unfortunate one, you will all file up and be anointed with the Poutine of Dominion.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"But Minister,\" shouted the newly elected fifth Minister of Greater Nihon, who only entered office within the last several minutes, \"I am—\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Archminister, minister,\" interrupted the Archminister.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Archminister, I am lactose intolerant.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Pearson Who Rose Again smiled. \"We can have a doctor fix you, free of charge.\"" ]	3
	[WP] 2 soldiers of the opposing sides in a war are trapped in a bunker by an explosion. Instead of killing each other, the 2 soldiers engage in a conversation.	[ "\"Hey...\"\n\"Sup\"\n\".......\"\n\nWe both sat there. Hardly breathing but odly comfortable, as though neither of us had just tried to brutally murder the other.\nHis hand reached over from across the dirt and mud, the fingers still dirty and the knuckle torn from its run in with my skull. \n\"I'm Tim..\"\nHe smiled good naturedly. \n\nI wrapped my fingers around his. \n\"Im Smith.\" \nAnother grin. I bet we looked foolish. Two soldiers huddled in a bunk. The explosion blocked the door though, and for some reason i didnt want to leave just yet. \nI wasn't afraid of death. I had been surrounded by it for too long.\nBut it could wait a few more minutes.\nI looked at my neighbor,\n\"So, you got any kids?\"\n\"Yeah. A girl..her names julie-\n", "The rocket ripped past me, hitting the far wall of the bunker. The explosion knocked the two of us into the far wall, collapsing the only exit from the cramped bunker. As my senses returned, I found a sharp pain in my side. I looked down. A chunk of shrapnel was wedged into my gut, just over my hip, and blood was already pouring freely. \n\nThe other soldier didn't look much better off. The shot I had fired just before the explosion had caught him in the upper chest, although it looked to have missed his vitals. He was still breathing, at least. I looked around for my pistol, but found it laying a dozen feet away, well of out reach in my current condition. Well, it looked like the end for me. I gathered the strength to speak, and began the Prayer of Silence.\n\n\"I don't want to hear it, Waster,\" a gruff voice interrupted me. The wounded man had a laser pistol clutched in a shaking hand, but not pointing at me, not yet. \"Keep your hokey religion away from me.\"\n\n\"The River flows on, and carries you along, even if you cannot see,\" I replied, my voice weak. Even so, it made the man start in surprise.\n\n\"I thought the Wasters didn't have any womenfolk. I heard they killed 'em all.\" The pistol shook harder still. \n\n\"Your people say many things about mine. Not many are true.\" I took an experimental tug at the shrapnel in my gut. \"If you are going to shoot me, I would prefer that you did so soon. Waiting to bleed out does not appeal to me.\"\n\n\"You shot me,\" he snapped. \"I oughta finish you off.\" But still the man made no move to shoot.\n\n\"May as well,\" I hacked up a bit of blood. \"This body is about finished. I am ready enough for the next.\"\n\n\"I don't care what you people think happens when you die,\" he growled. \"I shoot you, you're gone for good. There's no being reborn, for any of us.\"\n\n\"Think as you like. This is my third body. I know the truth.\" I grit my teeth, and yanked the shrapnel out. I nearly fainted from the pain, and blood sprayed anew.\n\n\"If we're not going to kill each other, we may as well get these patched up.\" The man pulled himself to a small crate, and produced a pair of medkits from it. \"Truce?\"\n\n\"Truce,\" I replied. Ia dragged myself closer, and helped him patch his chest wound. He offered a shot of mist, but I shook my head, and he got on with bandaging my side. With the work done, we both collapsed, exhausted from the simple effort.\n\nThe first night was the worst. Not knowing if I would survive it or not, the sound of bombs and artillery blasts booming faintly around us. I woke later than I expected, and found my enemy working the bunker's primitive kitchen, trying to turn some field rations into something marginally more edible. He waited quietly while I said my morning prayers, and the two of us ate a first meal together.\n\n\"I'm Thomas. Thomas Williams, First Lieutenant. You Wasters have names?\"\n\n\"Please do not use that term. I am Layanna of the Silver Path, Fourth of the Dark House.\" He gave me a strange look, likely finding my title as strange as I found his.\n\n\"All that Silver Path stuff mean something?\" Thomas asked eventually. I smiled, pulling my mask free so I could eat.\n\n\"The Silver Path seeks to further our enlightenment through honing the gift of foresight. The title is granted to those who see True Prophecy while among the living.\" I took a bit of condensed protein. My... companion had gotten it to taste vaguely like a sausage of some kind. Better than nothing.\n\n\"Huh. You guys really get into your crazy religion.\"\n\n\"This planet is a bit of an oddity, as your people have doubtless found,\" I replied. \"Something in the planet's structure encourages the development of psychic abilities. The weakest among my community would rank as a T8 or possibly T7 psychic.\"\n\n\"Impossible,\" Thomas had raised his voice. \"The most powerful psychics in the Federation are no stronger than T5, and even a T9 is almost unheard of. How could you have an entire community of psychics?\"\n\n\"We are no sure ourselves. Nevertheless, it is who we are. Our gift to celebrate, our curse to bear.\" I finished the food, and slipped my mask back on. I wondered if this soldier would report back to his superiors about our culture and practices. I realized we were unlikely to escape this ruin alive, and forgot the thought. \n\nWith no way to dig ourselves out by hand, the two of us largely spent our time in conversation. It was clear by now that we had no intentions of killing the other outright, and there was little else for us to do. Even the sounds of battle had faded, moved on to another area no doubt. Perhaps a rescue crew would find us, eventually.\n\n- I had a super fun time with this prompt, thank you -" ]	2
	[WP] In your family on every person's sixteenth birthday the devil appears and tries to make a deal and for generations every one in your family has turned it down. You're the first person to sign the contract.	[ "\"Awww come on, just give me something, ANYTHING. I've been trying to get you people to hear me out just once for hundreds of years and not once have you ever said yes.\"\n\n\"Allright, I'm listening.\"\n\n\"Your soul for a golden fiddle.\"\n\n\"Naww.\"\n\n\"Oh come on!\"\n\n\"I like my soul, thank you very much.\"\n\n\"Agh, fine.\"\n\n\"How about a glass of lemonade?\"\n\nThe devil licked his lips. He was looking a bit thirsty.\n\n\"Fine.\"\n\n\"Allright then.\"\n\nI set the coaster down in front of him and placed the glass on top of it. As his hand slid down it pricked into the pin on the coaster, and a single drop of his blood fell onto it, sealing the deal carved into the paper and wood that formed it. I smiled as the devil clutched his hand, and a golden fiddle appeared across my lap.\n\n\"What? You- BUT HOW?\" He roared.\n\n\"Seems like a fair deal. Best lemonade in the county for one of your fiddles.\"\n", "I stood face to face with him. The devil. My parents had only told me yesterday what was coming. Now time had frozen, and it's just me and him. The worst part was I knew him. I had done this before. I remember the times when my depression got the worst of me, when I had almost lost. I saw the same face that is staring back at me now. I do not fear the devil. I fear his contract.\n\n\"You do know I can hear your every thought right? I think you know what's coming then.\" A piece of paper appeared and slowly floated down to the table we were seated at. Lucifer took a pen from my desk and sat back down. \"I'd like to make a deal.\"\n\n\"I don't want to.\"\n\n\"That's what they all say. But, you are different. You are special. No, not special. Alone.\" That word sunk into my soul and burned in my heart, he was right. I had never trusted my parents, never held any of my friends close, what few I ever had. I've never loved anyone, lost anyone. I lacked human connection.\n\n\"Yes, yes I am.\" I choked back the words, but I knew they were true. That was the old trick my family had. Tell the devil the truth and he will be truthful. Deep down he was still an angel.\n\n\"I can change that. You always say that you will be remembered, but I can tell you are very far from that. At this rate, you will die a dreamer, the only one's who will remember you will forget you.\" I tried to interject, but he simply shushed me and kept talking. \"You know it's true, don't deny it. You know the rules of a chat with Satan. Here is my deal, interrupt me, and you've already signed it. I can make you a legend among men, you WILL be remembered. Everybody will know your name. It might as well be worshipped, but, here's the good part, your pain will not subside. As much as it doesn't feel like it, I've been holding back. Your God as been fighting for you anyways. If you make this deal, he will be forced to leave you behind. That is my deal.\"\n\n\"That's a crap deal. I only get to be remembered, but for what? I sacrifice my soul just for popularity?\" By now I was safe to talk. This was the bartering faze. Nobody in my family has made it this far for generations. I should just walk away, but I think I can pull this off. My breathing was shallow and my I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as he spoke again.\n\n\"Fine. I will let you go then. I uphold my previous statements, but my hand will not be with you anymore. Just sign there and it's all over.\" I glanced at the pen and paper for a moment, then met his gaze once more.\n\n\"Then God forgive me.\"", "All she wanted to do was have a cigarette alone in her room, but even that was not permitted on her birthday. Lucy stared at the man sitting on her bed. She had never seen him before, but she knew that he must be the devil about whom her family mentioned the breakfast after Michelle's 16th birthday. He had offered her everything, her sister Michelle had bragged. But Michelle had refused, just as her mother had, and her grandmother. They already had everything; no deal seemed worthy. The devil's pale complexion, platinum blonde hair, and sharp features were just as she had imagined them. And his eyes. The blood red of his eyes staring right at Lucy, as if to suck out her soul, captured Lucy in her spot, halfway into her own room and halfway out. She felt as if she could smell the bitter taste of iron just by looking at him. The metal of the doorknob and of the lighter she sneaked out of her kitchen inside her pocket seemed to freeze against the palms of her hands. \n\n\"Come in,\" he said.\n\nPlay it cool. \n\nLucy walked into her room and closed the door, sealing herself and the man in the same room; sealing her family, her star parents and sister out. Her family's high-pitched laughter and the clanking of wine glasses muffled against the click of the door sliding into the door frame. The room became a bubble of silence, Lucy staring at the man and the man staring at her. The smell of blood seemed to grow stronger each second, as if to suffocate her in her memories.\n\n\"Are... are you the devil?\" \n\n\"That is what I am known as, yes.\"\n\nPlay it cool, Lucy. She had rehearsed this scene for years. When she was thirteen, she imagined giving the devil the same sass she knew Michelle must have given him, the way Michelle had rejected Lucy's crush Alex when he had asked her to the homecoming dance. When Lucy was fourteen, she imagined fighting the devil herself with her softball bat, the way Lucy had beat Jessica, her teammate, because that would definitely be the better story. And when Lucy turned fifteen in a locked acute hospital, she began wondering how much her soul was worth. Now she was sixteen. She had a year to think, in and out of treatment centers, watching girls her age cry and try to take their own lives by cheeking pills, stabbing themselves with scissors, choking on their own blood. \n\n\"I want the devil to be on my side. No matter what.\"\n\nHer fist clenched tighter around the lighter. \n\nThe devil continued to stare at her. \"Done,\" he said. ", "My parents hated her. It made me love her more. \n\nI remember meeting her after school one day. She stood on the corner, smoking cigarette after cigarette in the bitter cold. I was absolutely average, and she was anything but. Bright red hair, shorn on one side, piercings, and a love of black leather and denim. How could a girl like me resist? I felt like Sandy in Grease, getting into my girlfriend’s car in preppy sweaters and pastel prints. Her name was Percy and I doodled it in all of my notebooks. \n\nWe went out the night before my 16th birthday. It was a warm summer night with clear skies and lightning bugs dotting the suburban fields. I had a curfew of midnight, but as my watch ticked past eleven it became clear that I wasn’t going to be home by midnight. What was going to happen? Her car would turn into a pumpkin?\n\nMy mom had warned me about dating someone like this. Someone that wanted to break the rules. Someone that made every sin seem so right. She said she had a boyfriend like Percy when she was my age. Percy made her nervous.\nPercy and I were sprawled out in the backseat of her car. She was pawing at my waist, begging me to say yes. I was nervous, excited, and wanted to please her. The flowers I picked for her earlier were crushed by our aggressive necking. \nShe stopped a minute before midnight. I groaned, unhappy, wanting her to keep going.\n\n“It’s almost your birthday,” she purred. \n\n“Percy, come on-”\n\n“Shhh, wait, I have to ask you something.” Her eyes grew serious. I levered myself up to my elbows, and she sat back on her heels, straddling me. “I have something for you.” She reached into the front seat and pulled out a paper bag, thrusting it into my hands. I frowned at her, but opened up the bag. It had a pomegranate inside.\n\nI looked at her, puzzled. “Thank you?”\n\nShe gave me a flat look. “Babe. This is important.” She handed me her pocket knife. “I want to be with you. I want to spend eternity with you.” \n\nMy heart thrummed. I could not deny the attraction I felt for Percy. I was drawn to her. She was the first thing I thought of when I woke up and the last thing I dreamed of when I went to sleep. I thought of marrying her, eloping, running away to New York with her. People spoke of teenage infatuation, but Percy was more than that. She filled every empty space I had. My hands shook, rattling the paper bag. “Percy. What- are you sure?”\n\nShe gave me a look that put me on fire, baring a hint of her teeth and those sharp canines I loved to tongue. “I am consumed by you babe. Pomegranates are my favorite, you know?” Percy loved her namesake, Persephone. When I think of Before, I think of my head in her lap, listening to her voice spin myth after myth. “I thought this would be a good way of…consummating that wish.”\n\nI felt an indecent thrill. “Well, if you want this-”\n\n“Yes.”\n\nI opened up the pocket knife. Percy’s face was rapt, radiating glee. I plunged it in and split it open. Percy grabbed half from me. She plucked a few seeds from it, reverently. She held them to my lips. I opened my mouth to the tart fruit. As my teeth bit down I could feel my body heat up. A sweat broke on my neck. Suddenly I felt ill.\n\n“Percy,” I mumbled. The last thing I heard was laughter as the light left my world. \n\nThat was Before. \n", "With a whoosh the light of my candles turned to smoke. The muscled figure appeared in front of me, it was Satan. My family gasped, though not out of fear. \n\n\"Did you have to come now?\" My mom gestured to him like an old friend.\n\n\"Excuse my timing!\" He hissed, then smiled. \"So...before you make your wish to a cake, why don't you let me grant it.\"\n\nI was slightly frightened. Being the youngest, I'd never spoken to him. I thought hard as his gaze pierced my soul. I could feel my family doing the same, none of them had the audacity to accept such a contract. Slow minutes passed while I tired to imagine my wildest dreams coming true. \n\n\"Well,\" my voice creaked, \"how about this. You make me the best at everything that I'm passionate about.\"\n\nA sneer filled the devil's face. \"Let me draw up a contract.\"\n\n\"But, instead of making me better than everybody, you make them worse,\" the sadistic request left my mouth. A new air of confidence surrounded me. \n\n\"Very well,\" his raspy voice pushed out. From fire, a contract appeared in front of me. \n\nIt simply read 'your soul for your wish', it was to be signed with blood. \n\nWith no hesitation, I grabbed the knife that was to be used to carve the cake and plunged it into my hand. The laceration drew a heavy but small drop of blood. I could feel the sighs and disappointment from my family. They must not have noticed what I was planning. The blood splattered on the parchment. With the same roaring flame the contract was birthed from, Satan shrunk down to a mere man!\n\n\"WHAT?!\" the new, tiny voice shrieked, still not aware of what I'd done. \n\n\"You and I share the same passions.\" I smiled with an eerie guile. \n\nMy plan had worked and I was now the most devilish figure the world will ever know. My sacrifice was a bold one but the world would now have an amateur sadist as a devil. And now I would be the toughest being in Hell, which would make my punishment a whole lot easier. \n\nEDIT: made the ending longer, grammar, spelling ", "\"You WHAT!?\" the Devil screamed in astonishment.\n\n\"Yeah, I said I'll sign it.\" I said to a room of gasping relatives. \n\n\"For the love of God almighty, son, do not sign your soul over to the devil!\" Dad said while grabbing my shoulders. \"Your brother James rejected Satan flat out, just like we taught!\"\n\n\"Dad, I'm not James, and I'm not you either.\" I reassured him.\n\n\"Well I-- I don't exactly have a pen?\" Satan interrupted, still confused by my unexpected response. \"Does anyone... does anyone have anything to sign this contract? I guess?\"\n\n\"Let's use my blood!\" I eagerly announced.\n\n\"Now that's just sick.\" Satan complained. \"I think a pen will work, I just need to find--\"\n\nBefore the Devil finished his sentence, I had already bit into the tip of my finger. Blood dripped from the end like warm red candle wax. \n\n\"Frank you know I-- you know I don't mind doing these things it's just-- blood you know?\" Satan said to my father, Frank, woozy at the sight of my blood of all things. \"I mean what the fuck is wrong with your kid, Frank? What is this shit?\"\n\nDad, while helping Satan stand, sought to take control of the situation, \"Now just hang on, he's confused. Son, before you--\"\n\n\"Yeah, I know what I'm doing.\" I responded while smudging my initials into the document. \n\nMy mother, recovering from a partial faint moments earlier and in tears, decided now would be a good time to scream at me, \"Oh you always were like this! I've NEVER understood why you do the stupid shit you do. Like that damn _art_ you paint, why can't you just paint trees and clouds like your sister Lilly?\" \n\n\"Jesus, mom, again with my art? It's post contemporary! I explained all this!\" I screamed back.\n\n\"IT'S THE DEVIL!\" she responded on instinct. \"Well, I mean... Sorry Satan, it's just...\"\n\n\"No you're right, post contemporary art is so me.\" Satan said casually.\n\nI put my arm around the Devil and spoke candidly with him, \"Satan, so you promise when I die, I won't have to hang around with these people for an eternity?\" \n\n\"That's the punishment, yes!\" Satan boldly proclaimed while holding the contract as far away from himself as possible.\n\n\"Then sign me the fuck up, because these people? They're batshit inane, and I've had just about enough of all this God crap. Who the hell told God it was ok to make me? You talk with him right? Can you tell him I said I hate him?\" I unleashed at Satan. It felt great to get that off my chest.\n\n\"You HATE GOD!?\" Satan said in a high, surprised, lady-like tone. \"Listen, kid, don't say something you can't take back here. That's a little over the line isn't it?\"\n\n\"Yes of course I hate God. Ever since I've been old enough to remember, I have realized that God is a selfish prick. He goes and creates this entire universe, just because he felt like it, but then at the same time insists that life be comprised of constant suffering in the most unimaginably horrible ways possible?\" I explained diligently.\n\n\"Mmmhmmmm?\" Satan followed, making sense of the onslaught of ideas flowing out of me. \n\nI took a breath, and tried to explain, \"Yeah I mean don't get me wrong, a sunset is beautiful, but have you ever seen a wolf catch it's prey and eat it as it screams in agony, heart still beating, feeling every bit of pain?\" \n\n\"Yes I suppose that IS bullshit\" Satan agreed, scratching his chin and looking off in the distance. \n\nSatan continued to listen, pondering on his vast distance of memories from the millenia. This was Satan after all, he's seen some shit. What sense does it make that any of that should exist?\n\n\"Oh and while we're on the subject of eternity, no matter where I spend it, so long as I'm conscious, THAT is hell to me.\" I further explained, met with a surprised look on Satan's face of utter agreement.\n\n\"Yes. Yes! _Yes,_ after a while, you _do_ start to want the dark emptiness of true nothing.\" Satan proclaimed. \"I've been awake for so long. How long have I been awake? What month is this?\"\n\n\"I mean what the hell are you going to do, Satan, when the human species goes extinct?\" I asked, calming my tone and getting serious like a life insurance salesman poking holes in the sound future some bozo just thought he had.\n\n\"I guess I... I guess I've never thought about that.\" Satan responded with a look of concern.\n\n\"Are you just gonna stay here on the planet and wait for another species of self aware sentient beings to come about? How's that work? Will it take ANOTHER 3.5 billion years?\" I further inquired. \n\n\"Another 3.5 billion years\" Satan whispered to himself. \n\nI kept layering the bad news on for an immortal being who's ending had never been written in the bible. Does Satan ever get to retire? Is forever truly, forever? The truths pour out of me like poison for Satan's very soul; The painful truth of what infinity actually means, what the planet, solar system, and and even galaxies will experience, and what true mass time meant in the face of the relatively short time he had been alive and conscious. \"You know the planet will be engulfed in the sun someday, right? The whole damn thing!\"\n\nHe stopped scratching his chin and paused for a brief moment of consideration of these undeniable facts. He's heard these things, he's watched PBS, but somehow it wasn't until now that he was forced to consider them. \"A red giant!\" he said, snapping his fingers. \n\nMy voice grew louder as I addressed everyone in the room, \"And all confined within my human consciousness, while the cosmos has a whole array of experiences beyond the depth of human perception. Why would anyone WANT to spend eternity like this? We're just going to go forever and ever and ever all meeting with each other night after night for dinner, to talk about our day in heaven, to catch up on what we all did with our meaningless days in our meaningless never-ending existence!?\"\n\nThe looks on my family's faces spelled it out clear as day - I just got to them. My grandmother left the embrace of my crying mother and slowly approached Satan.\n\n\"I'll sign!\" said my grandmother.\n\n\"Mama no!\" My mother screamed.\n\n\"The boy is right. What the hell kind of existence are we going to have? We'll all go insane!\" grandma proclaimed with her thick Italian accent while biting her finger.\n\nBlood again, and this time it was... old people blood. \"You don't need to-- A PEN, PEOPLE. WHO HAS A PEN!?\" Satan reacted girlishly.\n\n\"Satan, what will you do when humans are gone and Earth is a wasteland?\" I asked. I was determined to hook this fish.\n\n\"Well I guess I never really thought about it. What... What would you do?\" Satan responded, now totally lost and void of confidence.\n\nI wrapped up boldly, \"Satan, let's travel the galaxy a while, see what else is out there. With my brains and your evil, and grandma's cooking, we could inflict some serious fun around the--\"\n\nJust then everything went dark. No more family, no more consciousness, just infinite empty nothingness...inside an observation room, where two figures in white robes and wings were going over paperwork attached to a clipboard. \n\n\"Well that wasn't supposed to happen, _Dave_!\" The figure in the robe to the right said.\n\n\"We'll have to flush the whole system, figure out what went wrong, _Russel_! The boss isn't gonna be happy about this.\" The figure on the left known only as Dave said.\n\n\"We COULD just continue this simulation and see where this entity goes with all of this?\" The one on the right known as Russel submitted. It was clear this was one of many failed tests. \n\n\"And risk further infection in the system? You saw how quickly it spread to the grandmother. Even the Devil himself started to show symptoms. This is a fatal error in the system, we'll need to send this report back to the developer.\" Dave said agitated. Rules were very important to Dave. Rules were meant to be followed.\n\n\"Boss ain't gonna be pleased having to make a whole new big bang and all.\" Russel said, letting his idiocy slip ever so slightly.\n\n\"Oh for developer's sake, he'll get over it.\" Dave assured. \"This is protocol. We make the adjustments, we start the simulation over.\"\n\nRussel, fed up with having to always state the obvious, pleaded with Dave, \"It took him 6 days last time and he never shut up about it! He claims he took the seventh day to rest, but have YOU seen him do any work since? Dude's been resting this whole time.\" \n\nThe two left the observation room continuing to argue the merits of this particular universe. The room they once stood for billions of years now hosted only a vast black observation window with nothing behind it to observe. ", "The flash of smoke appeared before Jane filling the room as it slowly crawled along the floor toward her. A shape loomed in the darkness of the fog, a man's shape, adorned with horns. Jane had been waiting for the Master of Lies, she was told of her family's curse as a child, about how Satan would come to her on her 16th birthday and offer a contract. Her parents had warned her against his deceit, Beelzebub was not to be trusted. She never imagined in all her life that he would be as gruesome as the figure before her. His teeth were long and sharp, his wings, obscured before in the rolling darkness of the smoke now unfurled, blowing away the sulfur smell. As they locked eyes she could see his surprise.\n\n\"A bit late are we?\" Said Jane as she got up from her kitting. It was clear the devil wasn't expecting this, she knew it was smart of her mother to try and keep her from being born until the last second that fateful February night. She was born right after the stroke of midnight, it was the right move on her parents part, may they rest in peace.\n\nThe Morningstar sneered, \"How is it Jane, descendant of the curse, that your appearance is that of an old woman?\"\n\nJane smiled at his inquiry, \"I had a lot of time to think on what would offer and what it might mean Hellspawn, my parents were wise to have me when they did. How could a teenager with no life experience know better than to listen to the devil. My parents were smart to deny you they way they did. My 16th birthday should have been 44 years ago. That is why I stand before the Lord of Shit in the body of an old woman.\"\n\nSatan, cruel and powerful laughed, the sound of saws and crying babies emanated from his profane lips. \"Jane, born February 29th 2012, my role will not change for you, I will offer you something you will not be able to say no to, and you will accept.\" A curl of his lips showed the pointed fangs that filled his jaw.\n\n\"And what, Perverter of Truths, could you offer a 60 year old woman? I've seen it all, done it all, been there, had that. What could you possibly offer me? I am no child you can trick!\"\n\nThe smile never left his face, \"your parents never told you what I offered them did they? You think they were smart and heroic in their attempt to twart me? It was not courage but cowardice that they chose to pick such a date of your birth. They would be long dead by the time I tempted you. Their offer will be the same as your and the same as all the children of your line. Jane, daughter of cowards, give your soul to me and I offer eternal happiness to your children, free of my temptations and lies. They will be free and prospects, live long meaningful lives. In return, you will spent eternity in Hell, burning in the fires of sinners. Make your choice old one.\" A contract floated towards Jane, offering her child, young Ian, now only 15 the chance at eternal happiness.\n\nHer heart broke, her parents had fooled her. Lied so that she would not hate them for the suffering in her life, would she do the same to her child, a child who would know next year the truth of the Devil's deal?" ]	7
	[WP]You're a hunter by profression vacationing somewhere secluded.before you find a spot.you see an animal corpse.the deeper you go the more bodies you find.With a closer look at these new bodies you realize"these animals killed themselves."	[ "God damn it. Shit. What the fuck. Florida was supposed to be an escape, a break from the constant slew of dead animals that I became famous for procuring up in Maine. A brief hiatus from the stench of animal blood and gunpowder. Why didn't I take up that contract offered to me by that Vande-something-or-other fellow. $4000 for a couple of fairly easy kills would've been better than the shitstorm I encountered in the Everglades. I was stubborn though, I had earned a fucking vacation fair and square, and damn it I was going to take one.\n\nPerhaps I should start from the beginning. Three months of essentially solitary confinement in the forest (aside from the occasional venture into the nearest town for supplies as well as the dropping off of my latest kill) left me yearning for someplace warm and not teeming with bears or wolves. I didn't want to hole up in some Miami hotel filled with obnoxious suburban parents yelling at their stupid kids to hurry up or the trip to Seaworld or whatever shitty place they decided to drag their offspring would be canceled. Peace and quiet gradually became my friends during the long weeks I spent in a one-person tent, listening to the radio and re-reading the latest Playboy magazine I bought on my trip to town. \n\nI browsed some websites where people rented out their houses to people for brief periods of time, and spotted an ad for a fairly secluded two-story house on the water near the Everglades that both fit my budget and my timeframe. Excited, I contacted the owner, whose name I found out was Jim, by email, and within 24 hours finalized practically everything. He agreed to meet me at the airport, drive me to the cabin and show me everything I had to know before leaving with his wife for their month-long trip to Europe. \n\nI flew out about a week after picking out the cabin, and everything went smoothly from the moment I left my house to the moment I stepped out of the airport and saw a tan, hispanic looking man holding a sign sporting my last name in big bold lettering. We exchanged pleasantries and hopped into his Jeep for the two-hour long drive to the location. On the way there Jim gave me some details on the area, briefed me on the expectations of the house's cleanliness upon my departure, and firmly forbid me to use their boat speedboat, although I was permitted to use any fishing gear, kayaks, and other gear I wanted. He even told me I could use their four-wheeler, provided I filled up the tank with gas after I finished using it. \n\nAs he launched into a detailing of the various marine life living around the cabin, we made a turn from the paved road we had been driving on for the better part of 20 minutes onto a gravel one which I assumed led directly to the cabin. I started looking around at the trees surrounding our route when I swore I caught a glimpse of a large, dark shape laying on the ground maybe 10 yards from the edge of the treeline. I assumed it was some sort of fallen branch or perhaps a backup generator for the house, and quickly pushed any thoughts about it out of my mind as I looked ahead to where the roof of the house now became visible.\n\nAnother minute or so and Jim pulled into a little clearing which served as a parking space of some sorts, turning off the engine and looking at me to gauge my reaction at seeing the house up close. It was nothing less than I had hoped for. Two floors, a garage holding all sorts of exciting things for me to fuck around with the next couple of weeks, a dock leading into a bay with several kayaks & a small fishing speedboat tethered to it, and most importantly, a big ol barbecue grill just waiting to have some juicy steaks cooked on it. I voiced my happiness with finding the place true to its online ad, which earned a chuckle from Jim. \n\nWe took my bags into the house, with me settling on occupying a second-floor room looking out onto the water. Jim went over some of the basic rules of the house he didn't cover in the car: don't use this, don't go in that room its locked for a reason, don't steal the television because we'll know, the fridge sometimes makes unexpected loud sounds but I shouldn't volunteer myself to fix it, and the other usual b.s. that comes with renting a house from people. I just nodded my head, taking note of the more important stuff, knowing that breaching those rules could cost me a pretty penny. Jim was kind enough to leave the fridge and pantry fully stocked, assuring me it was a housewarming gift of sorts, that I needn't worry about paying him for the food or restocking before I left.\n\n Taking his boat keys (just to be safe, the bastard, I was looking forward to breaking that rule and taking the Mariner's Daughter for a joyride), Jim wished me luck and drove off in his Jeep, leaving me with an aging Toyota Camry for any driving I had to make. It starting to transition from afternoon to evening, and I was too tired to begin to explore anything, so instead I microwaved myself one of the soup cans I found in the pantry, and grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge before settling in to watch one of the many DVDs Jim had on a shelf above his flatscreen. \n\nI dozed off eventually, knocking out around what I assumed to be half-past eight. On the bright side, my long-term habit of sleeping precisely nine hours led to me waking up just before six, giving me plenty of time to do whatever the hell I wanted this first full day in paradise. I started off my time in Florida pretty tame, making an early run into the the nearest Walmart to pick up some additional things Jim didn't provide for a full-day kayaking journey I was planning for the next day. A nice sharp hunting knife, waterproof bags, an external battery for my smartphone, and some tackle for the fishing rods in the cabin comprised my purchases, and due to some sort of sale I didn't even spend that much. The rest of the day I either fished off of the dock (with little success), or snorkled around the area near the cabin. A sea turtle was the most exciting thing I saw, but it was still refreshing to see a moving animal that wasn't some sort of Northern forest-bound mammal. \n\nAs the sun began to set I fired up the grill and made myself a nice, if a little overcooked, steak complete with various spices and a side of two baked potatoes. Another movie went with the dinner, this time I opted to watch Apocalypse Now, a film I hadn't seen since my youth. Another fairly early doze off completed day 1 of my time in Jim's cabin. I didn't mind sleeping early though, I had a lot planned for the next day and needed some time to get things ready. \n\nWaking up at seven, I quickly began filling up the waterproof bags I purchased the day before with food, water, flashlights, a flare, and other necessities I opted to bring on my expedition. After compiling the supplies, I tested out the largest of the kayaks at the dock, checking for any holes in the bottom or storage compartments. It seemed in good shape, and I proceeded to quickly load up one compartment with food & water and the other with miscellaneous gear. The kayak even had racks on the sides for fishing poles, and I thought it best to utilize both, seeing as how there was a small chance I could break/ lose one of the rods. Finally, I felt it was a good idea to pack some heat on this venture, and took with me a BB handgun and some ammo I found in the cabin's garage- you can never be too careful after all.\n\nJust after 11 a.m., I made sure the door to the house was locked and set out on my expedition. I paddled out to what I figured to be near the middle of the bay and surveyed my surroundings. The treeline curved around probably around three kilometers from end to end before giving way to the vast emptiness of the Gulf of Mexico. I spotted a little clearing near the water that I judged to be a good place to later come ashore and made a mental note to remember to go there for lunch. Before that though, everything else be damned, I was going to catch some fish. \n\nLady Luck seemed to be on my side that day as I caught nearly twelve different species over the course of a couple of hours. Yellowtail snappers, juvenile barracuda, you name it, I caught it. It went well, aside from a solitary incident with what I think was a black snapper. The bastard jumped back into my kayak three times after I released him. Its almost as if the bastard wanted to die. Knowing what I know now, I think he just might've. Fucking hell this is all messed up. So fucking messed up.\n\nAnyway, I eventually had my fill of fishing and paddled to that little patch of ground near the water I spotted earlier. Disembarking from the kayak, I pulled the fluorescent orange pick of plastic up out of the water and removed the bag of provisions, along with the BB gun. My god I'm glad I took that stupid thing. From the food bag I fashioned myself a turkey, lettuce, tomato, and swiss cheese sandwich, pairing it with some less-than-hot brown rice I made the night before. A cold beer completed the meal, and I happily sat near the water, reading CNN and munching on my lunch. \n\nTime slipped away from me, and I quickly became absorbed in my phone, catching up on the past few days' news (I had not checked the news since flying in). A sharp screeching from the trees behind me startled me from my smartphone-induced hypnosis, causing me to involuntarily reach for the little pellet gun laying by my side. The sound was one of an animal, and I, being the dumb bastard I am, decided it would be a wonderful idea to go investigate. What a shitty choice I made.\n\n(Continued in the comment below!)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You are the first person to discover magic.	[ "\"All the cool kids are doing it Jack.\" Mike looked over at his best friend sitting in the seat across the room from him. \nJack stood up and laughed, \"I don't know man, it seems like a stupid fad.\" he kicked at a shoe that was in the way. Looking around Jack thought that maybe his mom was right that he should clean his room, at least turn in all the Dew cans, he could make some money. \nMike shook him from his inner thoughts, \"Look man if you want any sort of recognition in life you need a catchphrase, Jared Poplawski has started saying 'true dat' and now he's swimming in tail.\" To emphasis his point he snapped his fingers, this was his \"thing\"\nJack couldn't help but sneer. \"Jared is an idiot, what does that even mean, it's nonsense.\" Although Mike had a point, he hasn't had a date in three weeks this was getting serious. \"What about 'shazam', or maybe 'voila'?\" he looked at his friend who had gained a serious look on his face obviously deep in thought. \n\"I'm not sure those work, they seem weak somehow try something more... powerful?\"\n\"Powerful?\" He chuckled, \"What does that even mean?\"\n\"You know something that draws a crowd, maybe something with a few syllables.\" He smiled lightly at him, \"Look man this whole thing might blow over soon, but as long as it's a thing you're not getting any.\" He then picked up a book and looked through the pages, as if they held the secrets they were looking for.\n\"I have a word but I'm pretty sure it's just nonsense,\"\n\"Like that stops Poplawski?\" He snickered.\n\"Okay how bout this,\" He squared his shoulders and gestured with his hand towards his long standing friend, \"Abracadabra!\"\nJust then a bright blue light flashed, sitting in his friends seat was a huge toad.", "The leader of the hated River tribe stood head and shoulders above all others on the battlefield. Even though our war band outnumbered his, the way his hulking form dominated the field made the battle seem already lost for our Sacred Mountain tribe.\n\nTheir leader ran directly at me and slammed into me, sending both of us to the ground, hard.\n\nI closed my eyes. Without even thinking, I reached up with both of my hands, and grabbed, pulled, and twisted with all of my might.\n\nHis pained scream echoed across the Field of Bones. It seemed to last forever. All other fighting slowly came to a stop.\n\nTheir leader abruptly pushed away from me. I opened my eyes, and saw that I held in my hands a large clump of his hair, plus a bit of his scalp.\n\nHis panicked screams were picked up by his fellow tribesmen. They quickly fled the field of battle, leaving the entire Sacred Mountain war band stupefied.\n\nOur own leader reached out a hand to me. In a daze, I reached up with my own. He pulled me to my feet, and, still holding my hand in the air, bellowed out a victory cry.\n\nThe entire war band cried out in response.\n\nI half-walked, and half was carried back to the Clear Stream by the Sacred Mountain. I received many friendly slaps on the back, and when we arrived, the most comely female of the tribe fed me some of the berries that she had gathered while the men had fought.\n\nThe sun soon dropped below the horizon, and we all settled in to sleep. Our leader made sure to pick a sleeping spot near me, the hero of the battle, and for the first time in my life, I slept surrounded by females.\n\nJust before dawn, I was awakened by the alarmed yelps of my fellow tribesmen. In the pre-dawn light, I could clearly see what had startled them.\n\nIn the middle of our camp was a black rock. It was as tall as five warriors standing on each other’s shoulders, as wide as my outstretched arms, but only as thick as the width of my hand. We all stared and yelled at it in awe. Some took steps toward it, but dared not touch it.\n\nI felt our leader’s hand on my shoulder. He pointed at the rock and smiled.\n\nI swallowed hard and walked toward the rock. I lifted up a shaking hand, and touched it.\n\nThe rock was smooth, like a stone from a river, or a dried bone. Not rough, like the Sacred Mountain stones surrounding it. As I ran my fingers over it, a dark shadow passed over my eyes, briefly blocking my vision.\n\nOut leader stood next to me. He placed one hand on my own, and the other on the rock. He then raised his head to the sky, and shouted out in celebration. The whole tribe soon joined him. Surely, this miracle was a reward from the Sacred Mountain for our diligence in protecting it from the River tribe!\n\nWhen the sun had risen completely, the tribe headed for the Field of Bones. Before I left, I took one last look at the black stone. Darkness passed over my eyes again. I briefly returned to my sleeping spot, picked up the clump of hair from the enemy leader, and carried it with me to the battleground.\n\nMy fellow tribesmen started to work. They pushed bodies of the River warriors toward the west side of the Field of Bones, and the Sacred Mountain warriors to the east, as was proper.\n\nRather than join them, I picked up an old dry leg bone at the far edge of the field. It was surprisingly heavy. I gripped one end of it, and ran my eyes up to the other end. An amusing thought struck me – the leg bone vaguely resembled the leader of the River tribe, and the smooth round part at the end resembled his (now partly bald) head! I chuckled at my private joke.\n\nA cry of alarm snapped me out of my trance. The River tribe once again approached our territory! They now outnumbered us, and at the forefront was their huge leader. Our eyes met from a distance, and he howled in rage.\n\nMost of my fellow tribesmen formed a defensive line at the center of the field. Our leader shouted and pointed, desperately trying to organize us before they arrived. But I continued to silently stare at the leg bone. It was smooth, like the miracle rock that had appeared overnight. I gripped one end of it tightly, and firmly tapped the ground with the other. It made a satisfying “thud.”\n\nA dark shadow fell over my eyes. Without even realizing what I was doing, I stuck the River leader’s hair on the end of the bone.\n\nNow it really did look like him.\n\nI put the leader-bone on the ground, shouted once, and stepped down on it hard.\n\nThe snap sounded across the field. It was answered by another snap from the enemy war band. Their leader howled in pain and fell flat on his face.\n\nThe war whooping of the River tribe and the frantic shouting of our own tribe stopped. An enemy warrior helped his leader stand unsteadily on his right leg. His left leg hung limp, clearly broken.\n\nAgain I shouted, and stomped on the leader-bone. Two “cracks” resounded across the field, as the River leader screamed in pain again.\n\nI held up the remaining half of the leader-bone. I pointed at it, then at the enemy leader. I grunted once, and looked him straight in the eye.\n\nHe let out a pathetic whimper, and a pained yelp. His men whispered and murmured. After a seeming eternity of wait, the enemy war band quietly turned away, and carried their leader back across their River, never to return.\n\nI shouted with delight. But my yells were not echoed by my tribesmen. Their murmurs and whispers seemed even more worried than those of the River tribe.\n\nI didn’t care. I laughed like a child, gleefully tossing my leader-bone in the air. It turned end-over-end …\n\n… turned end-over-end and was deftly caught by Marldin the Visionary. I blinked hard. His bone wand was much thinner than the leader-bone that I saw moments ago, and adorned with a single black feather, rather than a clump of black hair.\n\n“And that is how humanity discovered magic,” he concluded. “Tomorrow’s vision and lecture covers the early establishment of The Order. Be sure to read the second chapter in its entirety before then. I will not be interrupting the vision to explain who everyone is. Don’t be late!”" ]	2
	[WP] Whenever you get hugged, you obtain knowledge of that person. Their past, their present, their future.	[ "The ceiling was white, the floor was scrubbed white, the walls were off-white. The place smelled of sickness yet cleanliness at the same time. I paced anxiously outside Room 316. Acacia was in there dying and I couldn't bring myself to go in and see her; I knew my wife would want to hug me.\n\nI haven’t let my wife hug me in eight years. You see, whenever someone hugs me I get this intense flash of their life: from the past, present, and future. No I don’t see all the details, but certain events pop out in my mind as if they were occurring right at that moment. There’s no pattern to these flashes, what stands out, what doesn't. In fact, I don’t let anyone hug me anymore.\n\nWhen I started going out with Acacia, I never saw her life. It took me awhile to figure out that it was when she first initiated the hug on me, that I saw everything. I already knew about her past from talking, so it was entertaining to visually see her as a child playing at a park and dropping her ice cream cone in the dirt, then picking it up and eating it again. All her present life events flashed through my mind too quickly, and they all included me. That was reassuring, even if I couldn't see any specific events. Suddenly my vision turned to darkness: I felt damp and cold and I was scared. Then, there bright white light everywhere. Acacia was on the ground in a white wedding dress crying out in pain, clutching her chest and heaving short breaths. \n\nSilence. \n\nShe raised her head up, smiled at me with her signature cheeky grin…\n\nAnd I was back to reality. Acacia was standing there; her grin dissolved to a frown and worried eyes. She asked what was wrong. I told her about my “special ability”. She asked why I was crying. I touched my face and there were tear streaks. I lied and said that always happened when I saw someone’s life for the first time, just a side effect. \n\nThat was the moment I never let people hug me again. Acacia, she was the love of my life, of course we hugged, but I always made sure I went in for the hug first. There was the odd moment when she was so excited and forgot and hugged me. Here I still saw her life moments, but always saw different past and present events. The future was always the same. I could never tell her the future. \n\nNow here I am, surrounded by white after the darkest moment of my life. The cancer hit Acacia hard and she fell weak. While she was at the hospital I felt so alone and disconnected from my life. Today I knew might be the last day I would be here. I took a deep breath, wiped the remaining tears from my eyes, and walked into the room.\n\nAfter weeks of being too weak to even move, Acacia raised her head up from the bed as I entered. She smiled at me with her biggest cheeky grin. Even without hair, she was beautiful and I was about to lose her.\n\nI cried. \n\nShe told me to come to the bed. \n\nI laid down beside her.\n\nShe asked if she could hug me. \n\nI froze, not wanting to see what I already knew. But I nodded and kissed her forehead.\n\nI felt her arms around me and instantly saw a green, flowery field. I could feel a warm breeze and the sun hitting my cheeks. And I saw Acacia, lazily walking through the grass, smiling up at the sky. She seemed to turn to me and held out her hand; I grabbed it and hung on tightly. She kissed me softly on the lips. She faded away. I faded back to reality. My hand holding hers, her lips near mine. No breath escaped those lips.\n\nThat was all I saw, that one moment. \n\nI have been with her; I lived her past. I am with her now; she was happy and free at the present. I could not be with her soul; there was nothing to see in her future. \n", "As you might imagine, I avoid hugs like the plague. You can’t know what it’s like. The horror of it. Having someone open up to you their everything, seeing into the very soul of their being. Even the most self-aware of us aren’t really aware of what’s lurking in our sub-conscious. The lies we tell ourselves to get up every morning. And the deaths. Seeing in an instant how someone is going to pass. All of it in one gigantic download. A whole person’s life. It all seems so pointless. I want to kill myself almost every time I hug someone. Just get it over with. I mean, what’s the point of it all?\n\nBesides Karen I haven’t hugged anyone in over five years. Karen. What can I tell you about Karen? If it wasn’t for Karen I would have thrown myself off a bridge already. Karen is the happiest soul I’ve ever met. She is all dark black curls and warm soft flesh. She is afraid of clowns and sometimes has nightmares about them. She loves for me to dress up like Captain Picard and quote his Star Trek lines. She dies when she is 85 while taking a nap in the sun and dreaming about kittens. Karen loves me, for reasons I’ll never understand. She doesn’t know about my “gift.” I learned long ago that trying to explain what I could do brought nothing but trouble. It was Karen who found my biological father. She’s been on a long term quest to remove the cloud from over my head. Her latest project was to find my real parents, thinking they must be the true source of my mysterious blueness.\n\nIt turns out that my real mother died in childbirth. I wonder now if I somehow killed her in the process of bringing me into the world. My adoptive parents tried to love me but it’s hard to love someone back when you know their darkest secrets. That my adoptive father once ran over a small girl on the way home from an after work drink. Ran her over and then continued on his way home to kiss his wife and hug his newly acquired toddler. My adoptive mother wasn’t quite so bad. She never killed anyone. But she didn’t love her husband and spent ninety percent of her time day-dreaming about Magnum P.I.\n\nSorry to be so dark. I’m not a very cheery person.\n\nIt is a sunny day as Karen and I sit outside a coffee shop and wait for the man who fathered me to make his appearance. Karen looks angelic is a white summer dress. I’m dreading this long lost reunion and its potential for a hug. Usually I can avoid hugs. All my friends know that I don’t like to be touched. But meeting your biological father for the first time. How do you get out of that hug?\n\nSuddenly there is a shadow blocking the sun. I look up and see a weathered but still handsome face. He has my eyes. He holds his arms open and says, “Hello son.” I grimace as I embrace him. Bracing myself for whatever horrors lie in his past, present or future. What I see is like a cool stream of water on my brain. I see him growing up on a strange world with two suns and three moons. He has a happy childhood in this place with no secrets, where everyone knows everything about anyone else they touch. Politicians can’t lie. Anyone who fights or disagrees is forced to embrace and truly know their enemy. He fulfills his childhood dream and joins the space-corp. Being sent on a long-term mission to observe a distant planet. I see the panic of the meteor strike and the crash landing on earth. I see his memory of a beautiful farm girl pulling him from his wreak of a spacecraft. I see them falling in love and his utter devastation when she dies in childbirth. I see the past thirty-five years of his life as he hides from the world and labors in his apartment on an intergalactic transmitter. I see his future. His rescue from this backwater world. I see him taking his son and daughter-in-law back to his home. I see him dying in a hospital surrounded by his grandchildren as he clasps the hand of a much older and peaceful looking me.\n\nWe break the embrace as he smiles and winks at me. He turns to my wife and holds open his arms.\n\n“You must be Karen.”\n\nEdit: spelling" ]	2
	[WP] Aliens invade but to humanity's astonishment the extraterrestrial's computer security is absolutely terrible.	[ "The UN council sat in terrible silence. \n\nThe most powerful men in the world, the mouth pieces to every country on the planet, silent. Terrible, terrifying silence. The President of the United States was the first to stand and take a knee, bowing his head. The others quickly followed suite.\n\nEmperor Rac-Tu, looked down upon them without interest, like a Lion to a flee. Another world conquered, another species enslaved. Soon the entire population will be forced into hard labor, extracting every possible resource Mother Earth has to offer. A fate shared by every planet that the Raccidic Empire came upon in it's Universe wide voyage of rape and pillaging. \n\nWe had seen what they were capable of. Already countless cities laid in waste, military's crippled. We had no strategy, no back up plan. We were a conquered people, our futures were no longer ours to behold. \n\nEmperor Rac-Tu, with his bloodlust finally satisfied through the showing of obedience, turned his mighty frame and lumbered towards the large smoking hole in the side of the building from whence he came. The large room was hardly made for his stature. When he moved it was as if he hit everything in the room in some fashion. Papers flying, desks overturned, feet crushed.\n\nAnd like that he was gone, back to the intergalactic fleet idling in our atmosphere. \n\n\"Vhat now...\" Putin muttered, slumping into his leather chair.\n\n\"We have no other options. We uhhhh have to do uhhhh what we have to do. Which is... What he said.\"\n\n\"我不知道中国\" \n\n\"I agree with President Jinping, there must be something... Anything!\" Prime Minister Harper said from the closet.\n\n\"Excuse me lads, I don't mean to be a bother...\"\n\nPrime Minister Kenny knelt down and unraveled a large yellow note, nearly the size of his torso.\n\n\"But what do you think this paper means that says, Fleet Auto Destruct Password: 123456 ?\"\n\n", "So everyone knows the story but I'll write it out here anyway, it's about the Zygrusht invasion of '21 and how we won it. As I'm sure you know, it was over pretty quickly, but it didn't look like that would be the case. We've since learned that they traveled for over 540 years to get here, and it was pretty much a wasted trip to be honest. We just assumed that if they could travel that far out into space then they'd just kick our asses to the ground without really noticing. And they did. They hit China first. They just popped into the sky, flashed a bunch of lights and started sending ships down. They killed millions. Hundreds of millions. Would have been billions too, if not all of us, if it wasn't for, er... ZiggyShit. That was his nickname on youtube anyway. Thanks to all the privacy stuff that kicked off a few years before nobody could work out who had actually streamed the video but anyway, this guy was a genius. Nobody can quite believe it, it was three weeks into the invasion when we won, but only three hours into it that humanity realized that the aliens didn't use encryption to communicate over their radios. Yes, radios. Like old school am/fm radios. Well not quite, obviously, they were pretty powerful (cancer much?) but besides that they were super easy to listen in on. We learned their language pretty quick. Humanity that was. We tried to talk to them, but that didn't work. Then we tried to fight them, but that didn't work either. I'm amazed that in the chaos, whilst all that death was going on on the other side of the world, some idiot - some glorious masterful idiot - thought it'd be funny to literally call up the mothership over the radio and pretend to be the tech team. He streamed it on youtube, the internet community picked up on it pretty quick but it took a while for anyone to believe it was real. He spoke pretty good Zygrish, but I mean to them it must've been kinda odd sounding, right? Like, with an accent? Anyway this guy spoke to some alien, I guess it was their version of an assistant or something? He spoke to this assistant alien and after some awkward introductions asked it to, and I quote (translated of course) \"restart the ships computer\". He tried to social engineer an alien, and it worked.\n\nThis took them out. They were dead in the air. All their ships dropped out of the sky, their mechsuits just stopped mid-pose - they all communicated with the mothership digitally, at the time we hadn't reverse engineered it, worked out exactly how it worked so we could try breaking it, but we know now. Digital was for control, analogue was for communication. Our armies walked all over them, Their ship stayed in orbit for over three weeks before it lit up and took off, but they didn't get far - the thing shut down again! Half the world wanted to nuke them at this point. So we did. So yeah, this is why we don't give each user root. Users are fucking stupid.\n\n---\n\nI'm half asleep. This probably sucks. Ugh.", "\"Tell it again, tell it again!\" Mike, asshole that he was, was giggling helplessly now, his quaking mass threatening to overturn the table crowded with our empty bottles and cans. Laura rolled her eyes, having heard this story a dozen times, but May, the fresh faced young intern to the newly created B.I.T. division headquarters, looked starstruck. \n\nI cleared my throat, and continued.\n\n\"Well, we didn't know what was going on at first. I mean, they didn't have language, not really. Just those big television heads on their robots-\" \n\n'-stupid robots-\" Mike interrupted. Laura and May tittered slightly, and it was true, they did look stupid. But I'd been on the front lines in the Gulf of Mexico when they made landfall, and saw it crumple an Abrams tank like an empty bag of chips, with the men inside. Saw them take a Stinger missle to the face, and without missing a beat, dash forward at what must have been five hundred miles an hour to batter the helpless soldier holding the launcher through, through, a wrought-iron fence.\n\nI didn't laugh.\n\n\"They routed us the first few days. It was bad.\"\n\nThey nodded. This part everyone knew.\n\n\"So we noticed they started to move a little slower, about a week in. We didn't know why, but they did get slower. I got cut off from my unit- \" Mike giggled again, and I shot him a dirty look \"-and they catch wind of me. I lead the big metal bastard away from some civilians, and I bottleneck it into a subway station. It reached to grab me, misses, and that's when I see it-\" \n\nMay leaned in, literally on the edge of her seat, Mike covering his mouth, his eyes two slivers of glee\n\n\"A thin grey line on the top of it's screen face...\"\n\nMike was holding his breath, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes...\n\n\"It was an Ask toolbar.\"\n\n\"A FUCK'N ASK TOOLBAR!\" Mike crowed, laughing hysterically.\n\nLaura, despite herself, was laughing and shaking her head, where May looked like a kid who just figured out the magic trick.\n\n\"...What? A... browser plugin!?\"\n\nI shrugged my shoulders apologetically. \"The aliens had a collective intelligence. They had no need for firewalls. The idea of malignant code probably never even occured to them. And here they were, spying on all out communications, face-deep, unprotected, in the worst bits of the Internet. Eastern-European pirated movie sites, cursor customizers, smileys... They visited them all. I'm suprised it took us that long to notice them slowing down.\"\n\n\"Sooo... what did you do?\" She said, clearly hoping for some vainglorious final strategy.\n\n\"We weaponized popup ads, basically. If you want to use up a CPU's resources quickly, GIFs are the best way. They're uncompressed, impossible to stream. We killed them with clips of cats.\"\n\n\"That... that's nothing like what I...\"\n\n\"Yeah, we get that a lot.\"\n\n\"I...I...\"\n\n\"It's okay, I know. Prepare to be seriously misunderstood in life.\"\n\nWe all raised our glasses to her, the rite of passage complete.\n\n\"Welcome to Battle-IT.\"\n", "Once we had figured out how to convert their computer systems to a format readable by ours, the quest began to crack the alien computer systems and use them against the invaders. A team composed of some of the most brilliant computer scientists and hackers the world had ever seen was formed and rushed to a computer laboratory hidden deep within the Rocky Mountains. \n\nThe facility was state of the art and stocked to the brim with coffee, Doritos and Mountain Dew. It even had its own fully equipped Taco Bell. Man and machine worked together to crack the code. It was anticipated that the project would take weeks, maybe months. But, if successful, it would be on a historical par with cracking the Enigma code, and would save humanity from extinction. \n\nEveryone, from the highest of generals to the lowest of code monkeys, was therefore absolutely shocked, when it took less than 45 minutes to crack. \n\nThe aliens, as it turned out, did not really have any sort of computer security. There were passwords to limit user access, but that was it, outside of a firewall designed to keep all personal internet usage private.\n\nWe were overjoyed. (And also slightly frightened by the things we saw on the Alien-net.) Within days we had taken down the first of the enemy command ships by turning its own weapons against it. As the ship came down into the atmosphere, it was intercepted by allied Special Forces, who boarded it and captured one of the enemy leaders, a brutish, humanoid life form named Commissar Grut. \n\nA primitive translator was created that allowed us to communicate with him. Naturally, one of the first things we asked him was, why did they not have any computerized security systems, such as anti-intrusion or anti-viral software. \n\nThe alien officer had stared at us in disbelief. After a moment to compose his thoughts, what he said will forever haunt me – \n\n“Because infiltrating someone’s computer, and using its contents or abilities against them, is incredibly unethical. A computer is a private machine, deserving the same respect as a personal journal or any other piece of personal property. Why would you do that? For fun? You’d have to be some kind of total prick. Is this common on your world?” \n\nThe interrogators explained that it was. \n\n“Then we’re doing the galaxy a damn big favor by wiping you pathetic little data voyeurs out, aren’t we?”\n" ]	4
Your choice on aircraft, location, situation and setup. Go for it!	[WP] A modern fighter pilot on a combat mission is transported back to the middle of a WWII dogfight.	[ "\"Eagle 1, you are cleared for strike\"\n\n\"Roger SHEILD control, beginning attack. Eagle 2 cover me.\"\n\nThe F-15E Strike Eagle banked left and bore in on the God on the ground. Usually SHEILD has their own air to ground assets, but the closest SHEILD base was hours away. It was simpler to get the Air Force to give up a few of their planes for a little while.\n\nThe God looked up. His horned helmet gleaming in the European sun. A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth when he noticed two tiny dots separate from the plane.\n\n\"Mortals, when will the learn\" he spoke to no one in particular. He raised his scepter, its head a glowing green stone, and unleaded a hellish light.\n\n\nEagle 2 called for Eagle 1 to abort, but the light inveloped the diving strike fighter. When the light faded, Eagle 1 was gone. \n\n\nOctober 1943\n\nWhen the pilots eyes began seeing again, they widened until they were the size of saucers. To him it looked like the God had disappeared and had leveled the small German town. He buried the stick in his gut and the F-15 clawed for altitude. His WSO in the seat behind him gasped when he saw the destruction. \n\nBoth men gawked as they got higher and saw more and more burned out houses. Explosions boomed on the ground and in the air. Antiaircraft fire seemed to leap from the ground exploding around them. The two menbarley registered the danger they were in and continued to stare at the destruction.\n\nA shadow passed over their canopy, quickly followed by another. The pilot banked the aircraft to see what it was. Two small airplanes were dancing across the sky. Throwing themselves against the forces of gravity and physics. Bolts of light flew from the trailing plane. The leader shook then exploded into a ball of fire.\n\n\n\"Ohmygod! He just shot that plane down!\" Screamed the WSO. \n\n\nThe pilot rolled left away from where the planes were and leveled the aircraft. Now torn away from the distraction on the ground he scanned the sky. HUNDREDS of planes filled the airspace. Above him were huge, four engined monstrosities, below and around him were smaller single engined planes like the two he just witnessed. \n\n\nTraining kicked in. He went evasive twisting this way and that. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the nose of one of the tiny planes. He thought it was a Fw 190, but that wasn't possible. No Air Force had flown them for 60 years! The wings of the fighter twinkled and glowing softballs flew past the canopy. \n\nThe F-15 barrel rolled, looping behind the piston engined fighter. \n\n\"Lock him up!\" He shouted at the WSO.\n\n\"He's to small!\" The WSO yelled back.\n\n\"I don't have tone, going guns!\" Tone referring to the noise an AIM 6 Sidewinder infared missile makes when it locks on to target. The 20mm Vulcan Autocannon embedded in the wing of the Eagle roared. Rounds buzzsawed through the wing of the 190, tearing it off the plane. \n\n\"We gotta get out of here.\" The pilot said as the Fw 190 slammed into the earth.", "Tricky shot? Luck? No, it was skill. Skill alone ended this fight. Yeager was right: it's the pilot that counts. And this was my first operational mission. Judging from the style of those fighters, they must be late-model American aircraft. It must be 1945. \n\nIt's standard dogfighting practice to travel in twos. And that's what I forgot when I encountered these guys! Dammit, I forgot! \n\nThey weren't dumb. When they realized what they were fighting, they reduced their speed, to a level at which I could not even stay in the air. So I overshot my mark, and they opened fire on me. \n\nEven the fastest jet can't outrun a 20 mm bullet. And those guys were GOOD!\n\nSo here I am, swinging in my canopy, gently descending to Earth. Brought down by an 'obsolete' Mustang.\n\nDamn." ]	2
	[WP] Your first love is on their deathbed. You receive a call from their current spouse telling you that you are being called for.	[ "I never loved anyone as much as I loved him. I never could, because he stole my heart and smashed it into little pieces. The first incisions were made with small, cutting remarks that stung but the pain was barely noticeable. The insinuations and the accusations came next, but I loved him and I knew that he didn’t mean to hurt me. Sometimes he just got angry. It wasn’t his fault. \n\nHe only hit me once, but I still deserted him for it. \n\nI thought of him through the years. Boyfriends and lovers passed me by. I compared all of them to him, sometimes I’d slip and accidentally call them by his name. I didn’t mean to. I wanted to love again, I wanted to trust someone again, but I never found the courage. In my dreams he came to me and he’d beg for my forgiveness. He’d admit that he was wrong, that he’d never stopped loving me. I was happy until I woke up and realised that he would never apologise and that I would never stop thinking about him. \n\nHis beautiful wife contacted me and told me he was dying. It was almost a relief to hear the words. She told me that he wanted to see me and I burst into tears. All these years I had been waiting for this. Finally, he would make his peace with me and I would be free. \n\nHe looked so frail on his deathbed. His muscles had withered and his body shrunk. It was hard to see how he had ever been attractive, but his smile was the same as it had always been; roguish and mischievous\n\n“It’s funny,” he began with a cough as I stood in silence beside the bed, “I haven’t thought about you in years, but recently I keep thinking about you. We were so young, weren’t we? And you were such a little bitch, weren’t you?”\n\nI gasped in horror, my stomach twisting in disbelief. This was supposed to be a deathbed plea for my forgiveness, but he didn’t even care. All the time that I had spent thinking about him, and he’d forgotten me and the hell that he’d put me through. I looked down at the dying little man, so weak and pathetic, and wondered where my life had gone. ", "She has nothing to do today! She spent weeks weathering guilt trips and general frustration, but she managed to save just one day for herself in a calendar of baby showers, birthdays, work trips, and familial obligations. After a morning of rolling around in bed and playing games on her phone, her growling stomach became unbearable. \n\nShe was slicing cucumbers when her phone rang. \n\n\"Hello.\" She didn't recognize the other person's voice. \"I'm looking for a Caroline Jing?\"\n\n\"Yes. This is her.\" Caroline replies. The screen of her phone was sticky against her cheek. Caroline takes a second to wipe her phone against her shirt. \"How can I help you?\"\n\nShe could hear the other person breathe softly on the other line for a few seconds. The other person clears their throat, words stuck and pushing against their teeth. They are probably not selling anything or doing a survey, people like that would usually be talking away as fast as they could to delay the inevitable rejection.\n\n\"How can I help you?\" Caroline prompts, the extra seconds picking away at her patience. \n\n\"Y-yes. I'm calling about a sensitive matter.\" The person on the other line sighs softly. \"Do you have a moment?\"\n\n\"Yeah, what is it?\" The mysteriousness of the situation and how slowly it was unfolding was making her impatient. Caroline swats away any thoughts of catastrophe as she leans against her fridge, assuming that the phone call will not last much longer. \n\n\"Do you remember a Ben Rodriguez?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She answers slowly. It takes her a moment to place the name, she came across many Bens and many Rodriguezes in her life, but there has been only one Ben Rodriguez. He was her first love. They had met during winter break back in high school. A robust young man with a soft voice and strong eyes. They connected immediately and so deeply that she finally understood what all the fuss over love was about. Their relationship came to an end when life pulled her in a different direction. \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry I-...My name is Amira. I'm Ben's wife.\"\n\n\"Ben's wife.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Amira's voice was gaining strength. \"My husband is dying and he wanted to see you again. It is one of his last wishes.\"\n\n\"I see.\" Caroline states flatly. \"I'm very sorry to hear that. My condolences to your family. I won't be seeing him. I wish you and your family the best.\"\n\n\"Please!\" Amira sobs. \"He is /dying/. He wants to have closure before he goes.\"\n\n\"That has nothing to do with me. We broke up over 20 years ago.\" Caroline sighs. \n\nAmira cries harder. \"He has made up his mind. He refuses to go peacefully without seeing you.\"\n\n\"This has nothing to do with me!\" Caroline exclaims, no longer leaning against the refrigerator. She felt 17 again and hated every second of it. She could feel her ears getting hot, as feelings she very neatly placed away in a corridor in her heart labeled \"First Love\" broke open. \"I am so sorry you have to do this and go through losing your husband. I really am so sorry, but there is nothing I can do to give him what he wants. He needs to do that for himself.\" \n\nShe is no longer speaking to Amira, but the 18 year-old boy who screamed \"Why, why, why\" as he suffocated her, hoping she would give in and be with him again. It took her a long time to choose herself and even longer with someone trying to undermine her along the way.\n\nShe has chosen herself every since then and has done so unapologetically.\n\n\"I wish you, Amira, the best.\" Caroline ends the phone conversation.\n\n----\n\nI'm still new so I was rushing to finish this. Please excuse the tense switching. ", "Life is inherently a journey of missteps. In truth, it is a common miracle that we are able to learn from our mistakes, then letting them go as the past. In theory, of course. Some of us have a harder time than others at both parts of that process. I often found the second part more difficult than the first.\n\nSamantha was a very hard misstep to forget.\n\nTo claim \"the one that got away\" would assert that I had not pushed her away by my own actions. We were children, really. Young twenty-somethings frequenting art galleries, local music festivals, drinking in the streets, and occasionally finding time to work and sleep. I remember sticky summer nights of ruining perfectly good bed spreads and winter days spent mostly the same way. But without thoughts for the future, I was hardly the man I wanted to be. Spoiled, egotistic and yet naive, short sighted. It was another miracle that she stayed around as long as she did.\n\nI think she knew if she left I would collapse without her constant warmth to save me.\n\nBut love doesn't sustain itself on good intentions alone. It must be honest, to its core, or it will eventually wither away. Samantha knew that. It was a cruel kindness to leave. If I handled the relationship like a brat, I handled the separation like a wraith. There were drunken visits to her apartment, cruel voice mails, texts begging for her return. And I collapsed just like the world knew I would. My inability to love this perfect woman, was largely the same reason I could not love myself.\n\nIt was the deep, burning truth that I knew I was lucky to have her at all. A third miracle that she saw anything in me to begin with.\n\nThey say time heals all wounds, and they, being some faceless sage we cannot put a name to, are generally correct. But a scar healed jagged and angry can hardly be called healthy. It was many years before I could think of Samantha without pangs of guilt and anger. So is the nature of lost lovers. It was nothing less than a complete shock when, at the age of forty-eight, I received a call from the man claiming to be her husband. His voice was weak and stressed. To listen to his request drained me of any pleasant mood I had that moment. He didn't know why (nor did he care) but his wife needed to see me; quickly.\n\nThe young brat inside me wanted to hang up and throw one last dagger through the phone line, but years of experience had taught me such spite was useless.\n\nSo a seven hour flight later and a taxi cab later I was at the home of my last love. White shutters and a modest detached home nestled in a common American suburb. It was a far throw from our city apartment that had been gentrified over a decade ago. To be honest, I could not help but feel the old twinge of anger as I crossed over a doormat that read \"WELCOME.\" I know I was owed nothing by this woman, and in fact if there was an emotional debt it did not weigh in my favor.\n\nA man answered the door. He was well built, yet seemed worn and thin. His face smiled, but poorly hid desperation.\n\nSamantha had become sick. The kind of sick that you either choose to live as you wish for another year, or draw out the process with constant treatments. She had elected the former. That was the Samantha I remembered. Upon entering her home, I averted my eyes from the pictures of family vacations. I pretended not to notice the young children, the smiles, the experiences of a life well lived. I was still the same selfish child after all it seemed. I did not want to see evidence of her success. The husband explained the situation. We were very near the end of things at this moment. She had whispered my name in a fit of fever. He, the husband that is, was a loving man. He would deny her nothing, even if it meant hurting him. He was a better man than I. He pushed the issue with her, and after many attempts she confessed my identity. Then, after even more searching, he tracked me down in the city his wife and I used to call home.\n\nSamantha wanted to see me, and for the first time in my life I did not want to see her again.\n\nI did not want to sully the memory of the woman I could never replace with some emaciated, frail thing that asked for my pity. I could not do this. But in the presence of this man - this kind man, I saw that it was not for my benefit that I had come. Still such a selfish prick. He led me to her room. A room that smelled of sweat and stale air. Though the woman I remembered was not what I saw in the bed before me, her voice hadn't changed a note. \n\nFriends, I wish I could tell you I composed myself well and we conversed for hours remembering all the good times. That she confessed she truly loved me all these years, and if I could just kiss her once more all would be well in the world. That she could jump out from her bed, cured by a miracle that she deserved by all accounts.\n\nBut that is not the world we live in.\n\nWe wept and held each other and shook so violently it seemed we would never stop. Reminiscing seemed only painful. Using the past a distraction from the crushing future ahead. I told her I loved her and she cried that things should have been different. She wept for my life, that seemed so meager compared to hers. Yet I was the one who would live on, while a husband in the next room must face a life of love lost; truly and deeply lost. \n\nI stayed for another week. Until the end. I met her children, and comforted a father who I would never tell the history of his wife. I saw what this woman, a woman who had illuminated my young life with such kindness, had carried her light into creating a family. It was the purest form of love I had ever seen in my life. It was exactly what Samantha had deserved. \n\nDeath had not won as I had thought. Samantha left so much in this world, I should think there will still never be a day she does not pass my mind. Thoughts of kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and yes, most of all love.", "\"I'm sorry.\" i say to her. But mostly i say to myself.\n\nHow long has it been ? 30 ? 40 years? and yet she still looks as beautiful as she did the first day i met her.\n\n\"I'm so, so sorry\" i tell her as i take her hand and start crying. I put her hand on my face, so she can fell me, but more so that i can fell her. \n\nI was always a selfish bastard. Even now, with her dying, all i can think about is me wanting to kiss her, to taste her lips, to be inside her. I was always selfish. And so i kiss her hand, with tears rolling on my face.\n\nHe is also there, in the background. Looking. As if this moment was for him, a voyeur upon our own moment. Streams and streams of anger flow from me, cursing at him .. why is he here right now? why is he here next to me and her, Oh her,, my own beloved little light. Why cant he leave us alone ??\n\nBut then i remember. He is not the intruder here. I am. I am but a ghost of a distant past, brought in this room by the dying wish of a dying woman. A woman i love and loved so much that my insides boiled everytime she was next to me. The only one i knew that knew me and the only one that knew i knew her.\n\n\" Oh baby, oh god\" i whisper slowly towards her. \" Oh baby honey .. please oh god \" I bury my face inside her open hand. Again, it is I who seeks her touch, instead of offering her mine. Again, I fail her, and i fail myself. Again the times repeat themselves and again i drop to my knees next to the bed, pleading for her, towards her, with her.\n\n\"Hey...\" I hear her slowly calling out and see a smile upon her face. She's frail. And weak from all the medicine they got pumping. She slowly touches my face with her hand. I love her touch , i love it and i cry.\n\nI try to talk , but words just cannot exit . My throat is shut and i can only try to smile. She always told me i needed to smile more. I smile at that memory, and hope she thinks im smiling cause i came and saw her. Here, i am not happy, and cannot be happy, but back then, i was happy. I am, in the same moment in time, seeing her for the first time on that sunny autumn day, and crying into her touch. I am introducing myself to her, dating her, making love with her, cooking with her, living with her, kissing her, missing her, touching her, crying into her palm.\n\nBut i am also finding out what she did, fighting with her, cheating on her, screaming at her, dumping her, arguing with her, screaming at her, using her, failing her. \n\nI am all those men , and she is always the same. I love her in a million lives and for a million years and in a million realities. Whoever i am, i love her and only her.\n\nI wish i had been there for her. As far as i can tell, she loved me as much as i loved her, and even more sometimes. I know this because she knows this, because I could always know what she knew, and she could do the same for me. My love. my soulmate. Oh what an idiot ivd been for leaving you. For failing to understand you . For failing you and failing us. If only... \n\nI do not say those things because there is no need. She knows them all, just by looking. Underneath my wrinkled skin, underneath my grayed down hair, underneath my cough and pills and painful knees there's an 18 year old kid in love with her, an idiot of a kid who was too stupid to understand that she was young and probably more scared than he could ever imagine.\n\n\" I love you baby \" I tell her. But she does not hear that. She hears what i want to tell her and what only she could ever understand, underneath my words: \" I forgive you. I forgive you for having the abortion.\"\n\nBut i will never forgive myself for leaving you." ]	4
	[WP] Every lie you tell shows up on your body as cuts. The worse the lie, the worse the cut. What do you have to hide?	[ "I can't believe I was captured. Spies in this sort of world need to rely on technicalities to keep their skin smooth and clear. Fortunately, anything I did have to fudge was easily hidden by sweaters and pants.\n\nUntil my stupid hand betrayed me. John came up, franticly babbling about some transmissions to the enemy, \"Who do you think would do that?\"\n\n\"I have no idea,\" I said, preparing myself, but the skin on my palm pulled apart, betraying me. They took me to a room and stripped me to a pair of brief and kept asking and asking, forcing me to answer. Too soon, I was spilling my guts on the floor of the interrogation room...", "President Hughes stood before the press corps, grimacing at the popping flashbulbs, the voices jockeying to grab his attention over the din. Usually it would be that week's press secretary doing this, some careerist wonk who was excellent at it but who was, by necessity, disposable. Hughes didn't have the luxury of letting his rank-and-file deal with the reporters this time. \n\nHughes scanned the audience and saw Raymond Wagnell, that five foot nothing twerp from the New York Times. Hughes pointed at him. \n\n\"Mr. President! Mr. President! Is it true you knew about the attack on the embassy before it happened?\" \n\nHow annoying, the way he jumped up and down like an over-excited dog.\n\n\"What we need to focus on here,\" Hughes said, \"is making sure that we don't fall prey to the brinksmanship your paper advocates. Talking about who knew what and when isn't the right conversation. We're still in crisis mode and we need to deal with the crisis. Thank you, though, Ray, for the question.\" \n\nRay hated it when people called him Ray. Hughes knew this.\n\n\"Fine.\" This from Kathy Daniels, some no-account moron out of CNN's newsroom. \"Let's talk crisis. How are you going to get the POWs back from Pyongyang?\"\n\nHughes waited for the chorus of follow-up questions and jeering that this unleashed. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his sweat-slick face, a face that was hardly his own anymore, so many times had he been to the plastic surgeon, under the knife, repaired.\n\n\"Kathy, you know this question is a lot more complicated than you make it sound. There are things that cannot be revealed right now. But let me assure you, let me assure everyone: all options remain on the table. We are not taking anything off the table.\"\n\nThere was some nugget of an actual answer here, no matter how small; and the press corps froze for a brief moment to gauge whether Hughes winced or moved surreptitiously to cover a newly developed nick. When there were no obvious signs of distress, the reporters exploded like a bunch of rabid baboons fighting over a dying baby. Kathy's voice rose to the top again: \"What options? Are you willing to attack North Korea?\"\n\n\"Kathy, how many times do I need to repeat myself? There are things I cannot tell you. For many reasons, including national security. Next question, please.\"\n\n\"What are the other reasons you can't tell us anything?\" Kathy Daniels, again. What a bitch, thought Hughes. Too perceptive.\n\n\"Kathy, you've had your fun, let the other kids play. Next question, please.\" Hughes pointed at another yipping reporter and tried to flash the same smile that had won him the Oval Office. But he could feel its falsity, could feel that it looked more like a grimace than anything. Since taking office he'd been forced by circumstances beyond his control to resort to botox, and now he hardly had any control over his facial muscles at all.\n\n\"Answer the question!\" Demanded several of Kathy's cohorts, no longer with the disarray of warring baboons -- now rather with the ruthless determination of sharks who had caught a whiff of chummed waters.\n\n\"I am not going to discuss such sensitive matters--\" Hughes began, but there was no stopping them now:\n\n\"Answer the question! Why aren't you telling us what you know? What are you hiding?\"\n\n\"--your investments in concerns held by North Korean shell companies--\"\n\n\"--memo from the State Department saying that the ambassadors are a lost cause--\"\n\n\"--selling fissile material to countries who are known allies of North Korea--\"\n\n\"What are you hiding? Mr. President, what are you hiding?\"\n\n\"When are they coming home?\"\n\n\"Do you care if they come home?\"\n\nHughes felt his head throbbing, his mouth going dry, the sweat trickling down faster than he could ever hope to mop it up. \n\nWhen he could take it no longer, he pounded his fist against the dais. \"You listen here! Shut up and listen!\"\n\nWith one outburst, he had stunned the press corps silent.\n\n\"I resent this narrative that I am somehow, personally, profiting off of the suffering of these ambassadors and these soldiers. That is political fodder, nothing more. It is a distraction from the very real issue here, which is the imprisonment of these young men and women in enemy territory. We should be, we must be, we cannot rest until we talk about that, and fix that.\"\n\nA lengthy pause, bated breath; no outward evidence of blood loss.\n\nHughes straightened his tie and his suit coat. His voice was once more calm. \"These POWs are Americans,\" he said, doing his best to emote. \"They are Americans, just like you and me. And as their Preisdent, I have only their best interests at heart.\"\n\nHughes sputtered, and then his neck opened up ear-to-ear, and his head fell off his shoulders, and the reporters bathed in a geyser of human gore.\n\n\n\n", "I had just told him the punchline to the worst joke I've ever told. The jovial man behind the locker door beside me broke into a fit of laughter.\n\n\"I like you, Rain, you're one of the most honest guys here. I mean look at your skin! Nearly spotless,\" he said between choking down another bite of hoagie.\n\nI winced. My skin was far from flawless.\n\n\"Well, nothing major, I suppose. Rookie's luck.\"\n\nI pull on my pants and adjust my duty belt. Still not used to its strange weight.\n\n\"Hah! Too true,\" the chief continued as if he didn't hear me. \"Well take the night off, I'll have Sanchez cover your post tonight. Good work again on the Masquerade case, even though we don't have any-\"\n\n\"Say no more chief, even if she crawled out of that wreck, all those scars would have given her away. I mean, even the scars she had before are tell tale signs,\" I said, waving my hand as I got up as if to swat away some troublesome fly. On comes the uniform shirt as he goes back into his locker for something.\n\n\"'all those scars...' Say Rain, you're not the Masked Killer are you?\"\n\nI was suddenly aware of the weight of the 9mm Sig Sauer on my belt and the sweat underneath my uniform. With my back to him I secretly flipped off the safety of my backup weapon, a silenced single shot pistol. Untraceable, subsonic, quiet like the grave-\n\n\"BAHAHAHA, the look on your face-\"\n\n\"Yeah you caught me chief,\" I said sarcastically. My face must have betrayed my face. He was quiet now. \"25 murders over 2 weeks, a shooting spree in Old Town, thousands of manhours wasted; all me. Would you like me to cuff myself?\" \n\nHe looked down at my outstretched, scarred arms, and looked up at me.\n\nI had just told him the punchline to the worst joke I've ever told. The jovial man behind the locker room door before me broke into a fit of laughter.\n\nI smile as I unbutton my uniform shirt slowly. His face slowly contorts to confusion.\n\n\"Rain... even sarcasm gets something like a papercut... wait...\"\n\n\"You see those deep scars around mid thoracic level? The one near my navel? Do you understand? Scars can lie too.\"\n\n\"Oh my-\" I never let him finish that sentence. I turn to the side and fire my backup into his skull from the hip. Risky with a .22, but I've always had a flair for the dramatic. \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Gods are around as long as they have statues and images of themselves to look out through. Write what happens when their last statue is smashed.	[ "The power I once claimed was no more.\n\nOh how I thrived in the age of men who despised heresy. That which they could not describe were attributed to the heaven's graces. Offerings were sought and mortals dropped to their knees in my presence for a sliver of kindness.\n\nI was venerated, honored by statues and orations...women placed in my temple to be taken. Warriors asked for my guidance in battle. I was feared and exulted.\n\nBut it is no more. Man has forsaken me.\n\nMoney and science, vices and academics have taken my plinth.\n\nI have no place in this world.\n\nThe last piece erected in my honor has fallen, the last mortal who held me in their conscience sent to the river of souls. \n\nMy power has slipped away...my existence hangs delicately in this world...\n\nAnd now, I am nothing.", "Crafted so carefully from copper, wrought iron, and steel so long ago and assembled far away, I came as a gift. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me.” I proclaimed to them and I held tight their torch and their papers. \n\nThe people toured me from within to see what I saw, and what I saw was them. Skyscrapers shot up, cars honked and zoomed and sputtered, planes soared above, and I watched it all as whole from where I stood so sturdily. I stood tall and proud and they adored me for all that I saw. What they truly adored was their own magnificence. \n\nI turned green, and they filled their air with smog. One day I saw them shudder. They were attacked. With a crash and great clamor, hostility swept over. Eventually, hostility swept the whole world. Crashes and clamors the whole world round, they all shuddered.\n\n Others like myself perished as the people destroyed one another with tremendous clashes and clamors. Without the testaments of their own magnificence, they shuddered. They saw the rubble and struck back. Their piecemeal destruction would continue until they had not only gone eye-for-eye into a complete loss of sight, they brought complete demise to their entire own species in addition to the many others of the wild they wreaked havoc on.\n\nA last observer, I stood watching their relics. Concrete and steel, I looked on their beautiless remains of what I used to revere. As helpless as them, I faded into nonexistence. The wind and rain wore me down. Eventually, sediment consumed me. I would never again be their magnificent. Never again would they adore their own magnificence.\n", "Funny enough, these letters were sent to me from a good friend over the past few months. I should give John a call and see how he's doing.\n\nKyle,\n\nI'm very sure I've told you enough before of the artist I've made acquaintance with these last few weeks for you to recall whom I'm talking about, so skipping the reintroduction, and I only write to you because I've feel as if I'm becoming terribly smitten.\n\nKyle, I'm not sure how you felt when you found your own dear wife, or when she sang to you for the first time; but, I might wager I might be getting that same feeling.\n\nHer most recent Objets de Art are nothing more than disturbing and grotesque. This new series of miniatures features a bastardized centaur woman with the body of a spider. Her arms are jointed and a little more arachnid than human but her her torso unmistakably that of well endowed woman while her head. \n\nThese statuettes are disturbing deeply. In what might be no more than a figurine for a tabletop game I feel something emanating and it frightens me deeply. This is not the artificial fright that I've gotten from movies or video games, but the deep seated fear when you jump out of planes. The gut feeling that you just might die or worse.\n\nI held one in my hand and I felt myself going faint.\n\nShe is quite the sculptor, Kyle. I feel guilty that I love her because she is so talented, but I'll somehow find a way to sleep at night (when I'm sure to have nightmares).\n\nShe told me that she began sculpting these after doing her shift at the Nursing Home. One of the residents, Mr. Morton, seemed to babble on a little bit in one of his more lucid moments before the medication sent him back into stupor. \n\nShe says that since that moment this figure comes to her in dreams. I wish I had the same artistic quality to my own dreams. \n\nNext time you visit, I'll have to show you these pieces. They'll drive you absolutely mad.\n\nSend my best regards to the Misses,\nJ\n\nKyle,\n\nI must admit that I did fall in love with her because of the gothic art but those statuettes that she last made have been perhaps too much for me too handle.\n\nFor the past few months when I would stay with her I'd have terrible dreams, and when I'd awake I'd find myself paralyzed with my eyes open. I'd awake to these terrible whisperings, almost a thousand voices but the same voice. I know it must sound crazy but I'd swear it's those fucking figures.\n\nThey've become more grotesque as she's made more and I swear whatever she makes them out of has this horrible rotting stench to them. I've begun to hide air-freshners at her place and insisting she come to my place more often. \n\nShe thinks we're getting pretty serious now because of it and frankly other than the fact her work scares the ever living shit out of me, we are almost ready for a next step.\n\nI've insisted she do no work at my place, selfishly because those statues of that spider woman and her red eyes. The dreams are terrible and apocalyptic nightmares that she lords overs. I think I might make her keep her place as a studio and she can live with me but her work now makes me uneasy.\n\nAt least work is going well enough. I must admit at this point it's actually enjoyable going to the hospital. \n\nI can't wait until next week when I see you. I swear once you see these things you'll wish you'll never have came. However, I'm more anxious to see what you and Gen think of her. I must admit having her over as often as she is does make me wonder and perhaps even long for her to be here as more than a guest.\n\nOf course that's when she's not scaring me with those fucking spider bitches.\n\nMy best to you and yours,\nJ\n\n\nKyle,\n\nI swear to Christ the Universe is plotting against me. Someone just commissioned a statue of \"Mother\". \n\nI was with her at an open Art exhibit when this huge and strikingly bald man immediately took interest in these figurines. Apparently, they're not babblings of an old guy at a Nursing Home nor are they just plain old nightmare fuel. He said that they're a representation of an Old God from a very old Grimoire. \n\nHe went on and on and you could just see her light up like a million dollars. Then, and I couldn't make this up if I tried, he paid fifty thousand for everything there and is paying a huge sum for a large, marble statue.\n\nI know you and Gen were just as put off by those statues as I were. A lot of people are actually. Except this guy. Well, good thing he'll be taking them off of our hands. \n\nThe best part was is just like every other night after a good exhibit, she was quite the firecracker to say the least. Worst part was that the nightmares have begun following me to my own house. She finds it amusing, but at least she's stopped hiding them in my dresser. \n\nIt was good seeing you Kyle and send me another mix tape soon, it takes my mind away from Mother.\n\nMiss you,\nJ\n\nKyle,\n\nMother is finally done. It tired her out finishing it and she is getting half moons under her eyes, I think we are starting to match, lord knows that the hospital has been taking it out of me recently.\n\nIt is a horrifying sight, and if you let it tower over you and stand where it feels as if it's arms are about envelop you...\n\nI know I sent you pictures but to be present in the same room with it is the only way you can understand.\n\nShe's going to do an \"opening\" viewing for our patrons. I, of course, have to go with her. For once, I feel like she means it when she says she wants me to go with her. I feel as if I have to protect her because everything about this statue and the exhibit are fucking creepy.\n\nI love my little Mary Shelly, but this time she's created something much worse than Frankenstein. She finished it and hasn't been back to see it since Thursday, and her being the perfectionist, this is a first. I think we're also beginning to share the same nightmares.\n\nOne night she fell asleep in my arms and cries in her sleep. She was pitiful but I almost felt from outside the room something I couldn't protect her from.\n\nGod I can't wait until this exhibit is done and she can just go back to doing special effects make up and puppets.\n\nThanks by the way for the coffee. It's not as good as when you make it though.\n\nAll the best,\nJ\n\n\nKyle,\n\nPlease read this all the way through. I'm not sure what's going to happen over the next few days. I might be arrested. I know I told you about the exhibit. I thought it'd be a short affair and we could duck out after a bit.\n\nWe show up to the warehouse where she had it delivered a couple hours earlier and walk in. We were the only car parked outside the place and even worse the streetlights were out. It looked as if the entire block was blacked out. \n\nBut the chanting, God the chanting called us in and when we entered, there were at least 50 people wearing dark robes gathered around the statue which stood in front of an altar with a strange book which swore was glowing. The warehouse was lit by soft candles and darkness seemed to ooze from the edge of the candle light. Off to the side were lambs and that's when I knew we were over hour heads\n\nWe didn't know what was going on and I took her by the hand to leave when he finally greeted us, her really, as his guests of honor.\n\nUnderneath the robes I could recognize him by voice and stature. He placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a large chair, the only chair and sat her down.\n\nThat's when it began. They took the lambs and bled them over the altar. And the chanting grew. The wind began to roar and lightning struck. Kyle, I know this sounds like a bad movie or I'm insane, but I could feel the top of the sky opening.\n\nThe statue's eyes began to glow as the continued to chant. Finally, our patron stood in front of the altar and called to her what I couldn't even call Latin. It sounded alien and that's when they began die.\n\nEach one was ripped open. The robed figures gave way to what looked like a long, hairy tendril. \n\nI looked at her, but she fainted, and I envied her for a moment before I realized I must do something. The sky tore in thunderous cracks within the warehouse and the lights began to power on and seemed to glow as if it were a power surge. The candle flames began to grow. From the holes in the sky you could see her eyes.\n\nShe began to reach from the holes towards her. \n\nI yelled for them to stop but they seemed to be hosts for her long fingers and they seemed to be grabbing hold as if to pull her into this world.\n\nI ran to the altar in a flash of inspiration, fear driving me forward and holding me back. I took a candle and held it to the bloodied book and it began to burn and cackle with laughter. \n\nShe looked upon me, from everywhere. The ceremonial blade on the altar still lay there fresh with sacrificial blood and I cannot say what I told me to, but I stabbed that statue. I stabbed it and it began to crumble into dust and I heard saw her fingers retreat. The sky began to repair but those eyes glared death upon me.\n\nAs the statue became dust and her fingers no more than the bloody entrails of her followers I picked her up and ran to the car. I drove like a madman and now I wait. \n\nI dare not sleep, though she rests now.\n\nI know that mother is gone for the time being, because I severed that connection, but I know I can't kill her. She'll wait and wait until the sky will be torn again. But most likely before when my soul is done and my body resembles the statue: crumbled, broken and lifeless mother will have fun with me. \n\nKyle, I feel sleep coming to me, and the shadows now hold more sinister things for me. \n\nPray for me\nJ\n\n\n\"That is not dead which can eternal lie,\nAnd with strange aeons even death may die.\"", "She watched as the rockslide began, the little pebbles preceding the inevitable boulder. Her stony eyes stared impassively at impending death.\n\nShe had seen so much in her life. She had watched civilizations rise and fall, seen pairs of lovers grow old a thousand times, and observed the gentle movements of the stars. She had borne witness to great atrocities and simple joys. A guardian, a friend, an enemy... She had been all of them so many times before. She was tired. She was ready.\n\nThe boulder reached over the cliff's edge. It was gaining momentum.\n\nSome had sung her praises. Some had denounced her as pagan to their own gods. She had been reorganized in half-a-dozen pantheons in twice as many roles. How many young girls had prayed to her for a good husband? How many farmers had begged her for a bountiful harvest? The number was unimportant; only that there were many. It was meanings that counted in the realm of the divine.\n\nAnd yet, now there were none.\n\nRolling. Such a physical concept. A hard-and-fast action completely within the province of physics. Fitting, that it should be her agent of death. It was not just physical though. There was meaning in everything, if you looked hard enough. Physics and metaphysics were inextricably intertwined. \n\nShe felt a twinge of fear as the rock breached her final bastion, but also relief, and wonder. Death was so hard to come by for the immortal. How many had she seen pass away, granted that long sleep? Again, the number did not count.\n\nHer mind began to disband.\n\nGoodbye my children, she thought. Goodbye my parents as well. You were always one and the same. \n\nThe nameless goddess smiled, and wondered if there was an afterlife for gods.\n", "“Welcome to Void.”\n\n“What? What's happening? Where am I?”\n\n“My great peer, you've been quite popular for quite some time.” From the group an Egyptian man stepped out and spoke. Peering almost pitifully at the grandfather figure standing in front of him, the Egyptian knew it was confusing. He too had once been confused.\n\n“You've never heard of this place, I assume. Not many do in their times. This is Void. It is...” hanging his head low, now knowing how to explain the situation, he paused. “It is...” He stepped back into the crowd and looked at the other figures around him. Surely one of them could explain it better.\n\nThis time, an elderly man stepped out. Standing face to face, two old white guys with beards and flowing white hair. It would be easy to mistake them for each other, but a fatal mistake that would be. Their times were only a few thousand years apart. Not so long in the grand scale of things, and meaningless in the timeless Void. The greatest difference in their appearance was that the new arrival was quiet and gentle. The other man was the epitome of physical perfection and held in his hand a bolt.\n\nZeus spoke. God pleaded. Zeus continued. God again interrupted with his pleading. Rage materialized in Zeus's eyes, uncertainty in God's.\n\nFinally, Zeus cut off God in the middle of his begging. “You fool. Did you really think you could keep hold of people forever? Many of us lost out to you, you lose out to knowledge. A glorious thing, that is. The keeper of all things had let out too much too quickly and his slaves realized that there was no reason to keep him around. A glorious and loving god managed to rule for two millennia. Impressive. However, this is the end. This is where all gods come when the people stop believing. It has been this way for...a long time. Maybe forever? No one here is really sure, only one of us has been around a long time. \n\nAnother grandpa pushed through the massive crowd. It seemed like everyone here was old. Had they been here long, or had they aged prior to death?\n\n“My name is Father Time. I've been here since the beginning, although this place is the end. Not even I know how it came to be. It doesn't make sense so claim it's always been here though.” He inhaled deeply and rasped out, “It doesn't make sense to say that anything has always been and always will be, now does it.”\n\n“You were never a god! Just an idea! An arbitrary idea imagined up by filthy men! Nobody believes in you anymore! I was benevolent, I kept humanity going for two thousand years, what will they do without me?”\n\n“It does not matter what they do without you, as you were just an idea. I was an idea. Zeus here was an idea. Your first greeter, Ozymandias, he was just an idea. Just imagined up by men. And when imagination runs dry, they destroy statues of us. Then we come here. And then we wait.” Father Time turned and started to walk to the back of the crowd.\n\n“Wait for what?”\n\nNo reply.\n\n“Wait for what, I asked! What are we waiting for? What do we do here?”\n\nEveryone began to turn and shuffle away, except for Ozymandias. Ozymandias looked on at God and shook his head. \n\n“We wait for new gods to take control. Further, we await their arrival. We've been waiting for you, now you wait for them.”\n\n------\nCritique is quite welcome. I'm also not good at grammar. Or writing.", "Seasons...years...a spinning wheel that flickers past \n\nThe orange yellow of meadow flowers,\nturns to the browns of autumn, \nTo be encroached on by the slate grey blues and whites of winter, \nWhich in time cracks, spoilt by the tooth sharp points of green that spread and bring spring. \n\nYellow \nbrown\nwhite\ngreen\nYellow \nbrown\nwhite\ngreen\nYellow \nbrown\nwhite\ngreen\n\nWatch this flash past 10 times and a decade has gone, 20 times, and a man has been born and become an adult, 40 times, that adult has grown, and beget children of his own. The colours flash and the cycle continues.,\n\nI have seen that rhythm repeat... well at least 250,000 times, at least since I had eyes to view it.\n\nThey gave me eyes. Before that I was a boulder, a great grey rock picked up and dragged by the crushing arms of ice, a glacial wall that lifted and entombed me hauling me along as it ground out valleys and shaved the sides of mountains, till one day it stopped and as a warming sun lit its retreat, I was left alone in the wide flat grass land, this grassy steppe capped by boundless sky. \nFrom here, I saw the woolly rhino pass by, the roaring long toothed cats, then the thundering charge of the mammoth as thy rush across this landscape of tufted green, pursued by the thick browed shaggy men and woman who eventually one day would stop to stare. \n\nThey ran hands over me, and at first sharpened their bark stripped stick spears on me, then used my edges to polish stone points, and then rest in my shade to chip crisp shiny flints, into stabbing tools, and cutting edges. Returning successful from the hunts leaden with steaming meat and bundles of fur, they worked on me adapting my natural shape to the sweep of a hip, the protrusions into breasts, and grinding stone on stone, they gave me a face, nose, cheeks, eyes! I SAW. \n\nI watched them leave, return, the faces changing as the flickering cycle of seasons cropped young into old, and old into sons of the old who came back as their fathers has told them to leave gifts of skin and flesh at my carved monolithic feet. Gradually the mammoths came past less, and with them the strong limbed thick faced children became fewer, replaced by lither figures who garbed in tailored leather, watched from distance, aware of my heritage, and careful of my power. Till they left, and for longs seasons, baked by sun and periodically buried in snow, I watched this wide flat plain sprout a hut, then two shaggy thatched buildings that became farms, and fields patch-worked the plain. A brown road bisected the sward, and on it travellers. \n\nSome who at times stopped, resting in the shade of my stone bulk, I would hear them comment, on how I might... if you look at a certain angle, have a form not unlike a fat lady, the endless seasons having long softened and worn down my carved features into faint almost invisible lines. The bones of the meat joints left at my feet had long bleached white and crumbled.\n\nI am again a rock, \n\nPlain grey, rounded, with flecks of feldspar that catch the sun. \n\nAnd now a sign, a placard that reads. PLOTS FOR SALE, shortly replaced with one that reads SOLD. And soon after men comer again and stand round me, only these are thin pale stripling so similar and yet unlike the stout hairy giants who gave me face. Wrapped in patterned fabrics and bright yellow waistcoats, and plastic helmets they unroll tapes and hammer stakes and then a thunder. \n\nNot the endless rumble of distant storm promising a damp slash in the sheet of dry summer, but a smoky throaty growl of a yellow machine with broad dozer blade, that catches the sun, as it presses into me, and I realise I am tumbling backwards into the hole dug behind me, the world spins, but this time on an axis unfamiliar to me. \n\nDarkness now." ]	6
	[WP] You live in a world where darkness falls only once every 25 years and dusk is approaching.	[ "Whenever we went camping, I woke up with a slight headache - even through my sleep mask and the tent, the light of the daystar had me massaging my temples before I had even blinked. I rubbed the sleep sand out of my eyes and noticed you had gotten up before me, for once. The flap was open and I stretched my way out. \n\n\"Are you trying to start a fire with your mind again?\" You didn't even look back at me, but I could tell you were grinning and scowling at the same time. \"That doesn't work, you know,\" I teased.\n\n\"It might this time!\" You stood up and cracked your fingers. \"Besides, I don't need one anymore, now that you're up!\" I smiled as you wrapped your arms around me and stole my precious sleep-warmth. \n\n\"You could have stayed in the tent,\" I pouted. Your tongue was quick on the draw and I squeezed you closer to me. \n\n---\n\nPros of you being more energetic than me: when you ran ahead of me I got to see your butt more. Cons: I had to catch up to you and I'm pretty sure my backpack was at least five times heavier than yours. Our camp at the bottom of the outcropping was in a perfect location for typical camping - that is, with the daystar beaming all the time. We had a nice shaded place we always came to, and little secret nooks all over the place that only we knew about. But tonight was different.\n\nCalibration came once every 25 years. The bureaucrats in Heaven had set it up at the dawn of creation as a vacation for themselves - a time when the Sun, Moon, and Five Maidens could let go of responsibilities. Only the stars hung in the night sky for seven days straight. It was a first for us, since we were both young. We both found it insanely romantic, which is why we were out away from everyone. Most people bunkered down with flashlights and books, since it was a time of above-average crime rates compared to the rest of the 25 year cycle. We were both in love with the stars, though, so we had to come out for this. It would be a time neither of us would ever forget. \n\n---\n\nWe had decided to get as high up as we could, so that we could touch the constellations. The daystar slowly began moving from it's position at the apex of the sky to the horizon. You were audibly oohing and aahing but I was saving that for the darkness. I wrapped my arm around you and nuzzled you while you pointed at the colors of the Sunsetting. Watching you was even more amazing than the realignment of the cosmos to me. We settled down and watched the flames lick the edge of creation for the first time in our lives. \n\n---\n\nI actually woke up with a smile for the first time in my life. No headache. I opened my eyes to the darkness of everything and gasped - the world was completely different, and even more beautiful. I held my hand in front of my face and only barely made it out. My eyes slowly lifted to the sky and my mouth dropped. The stars. My entire life, I had only been able to make out their shadows through the glare of the daystar. I had studied so many pictures from astronomers who dedicated their entire lives to Calibrations - taking stimulants to stay up for an entire week, operating hundreds of cameras pointed through telescopes, frantically calling other obsessed stargazers on the other side of the planet to discuss angles. \n\nThat was where I saw my life going before I met you. Those astronomers, the ones that gave everything to Calibration, never were able to hold down a love life. Eventually they all went mad, putting 25 years of exertion into one week, four or five times in their life. I knew I couldn't do that when we had started dating. \n\nBut the stars. I could see why they did go mad. I really could. I found myself naming the constellations while hopelessly pointing them out for myself. And for you, but you knew them better than me.\n\nYou.\n\nI jolted up. You weren't here. I couldn't see you. I couldn't hear you. I didn't know where you were. Where are you? \n\nI searched all over where we had fallen asleep. I searched on the path to our campsite. I searched until the sun came back up. I forgot about eating and drinking. I had to find you. I crawled all over that fucking mountain and you were gone. ", "Claire stared up at the sky above, drawing her dark green cloak around her tightly. It was definitely getting darker, something she had never seen before in her twenty years of living on this Earth. Daylight was her element, it was what she had been raised in, it was all she had ever known.\n\nBut now the Long Dark was approaching.\n\nThe last time it had come around had been twenty-five years ago, before she was born. Her father had told her of how the skies darkened, the sun disappeared, and the Nocturnals roamed the earth. She had listened with wide eyes as a child while the older family members and neighbours regaled her and the other children with tales of creatures with glowing eyes and long clutching fingers that ripped out your throat like dogs and dragged people still screaming to their underground lairs.\n\nShe sighed and shouldered her rifle as she turned and jumped down from the large boulder atop the grassy hummock that was her favourite place to be by herself. As she landed in the long grass around the boulder, her terrier Alex jumped at her legs excitedly, trying to lick her hands. She smiled and rubbed his ears a little as she walked down the hill to the worn path that led off across the rubble-strewn plains.\n\nShe followed the path as it wound its way between chunks of limestone that were often the size of a small car. Her mind was churning with the impending nightfall.\n\nIt didn't help that she was rather scared of the dark. Having been raised in bright daylight for two decades had given her a deep mistrust of going into darkened spaces. She and the other children had often dared each other to go into small caves or the cellars in some of the old houses. Of all of them, she had always lasted the least amount of time in those situations.\n\nStill, she was determined to overcome her nyctophobia during the Long Dark. Every person over the age of twenty could choose to volunteer as a Hunter or Huntress during the darkness. They would roam the lands in groups, hunting down Nocturnal creatures and protecting their homes. Claire had finally passed the age barrier and signed herself up.\n\nShe had been practising for months with her rifle. She could now nail a moving target the size of a dinner plate from almost a kilometre away. It was a skill she was slightly proud of. The gun gave her a sense of power, she supposed. It was a shield against her own fears.\n\nA large sloping rock loomed up on her right suddenly. Claire smiled and shouldered her rifle on its strap. It was a custom of hers to walk up this particular rock and drop down again whenever she passed, a throwback to her childhood when she and her friends played tag amongst the scattered boulders.\n\nAlex watched her from below as she climbed up the smooth sloping side of the boulder and balanced for a moment at the pinnacle. She looked down at the flat rock below and leaped, her cloak billowing out behind her.\n\nShe had done this hundreds of times before without incident. This time, however, her foot slipped on the smooth surface of the rock as she landed. A half-yelp escaped her lips as she fell forward, the stone rushing up to meet her.\n\nShe hit it hard and everything went black.\n\n***\n\nSomething wet was touching her face as she came to. She opened her eyes to see Alex standing on the rock beside her head, licking her face. He wagged his tail and barked excitedly as she stirred and sat up. A wave of nausea swept through her stomach, and she sat for several seconds with her eyes closed.\n\nThen she reached up and touched the side of her head gingerly. There was a slight bump there under her hair, but nothing too serious. Suddenly, she looked up.\n\nThe sky was much darker now, darker than she had ever seen it before. She must have been out cold for hours. It was probably only a few hours until night fell properly. Shadows were already deepening around the surrounding rocks.\n\nShe clambered off of the boulder and stood up unsteadily. Alex hopped off after her and whined in concern. She murmured a vague reassuring noise to him as she waited for her head to clear.\n\nIt was almost an hour and a half's walk from here to the nearest settlement. She would never make it before nightfall now, even if she tried to run the whole way. A knot of fear twisted her stomach. She would be caught out in total darkness.\n\nWell, there was no sense in staying here. She set off at a quick pace, Alex trotting along beside her. Her rifle bumped against her back with every step and her cloak rippled behind her.\n\nShe had been going for almost an hour, the sky steadily getting darker and darker above her. The sun faded from white-yellow to a darker orange as it sank towards the horizon. It turned red as its lower half disappeared. Finally, it disappeared from sight altogether.\n\nClaire swallowed as the shadows lengthened all around her like spreading ink. Every patch of darkness seemed to harbour a waiting enemy, every shade of black a hulking monster. She shivered and drew her cloak tighter around her body. She felt terribly exposed out here.\n\nHer eyes gradually adjusted as the reds and oranges faded from the skies, to be replaced by darker blues and blacks. She was making her way along a long ridge when Alex suddenly stopped in front of her. His ears went back and the fur on his back stood up as a low growl began in his throat. He looked from left to right, baring his teeth.\n\nClaire readied her rifle and took a clip from her ammunition pouch, fitting it into the weapon with a click. She brought it up to her shoulder and flicked the safety off in one fluid movement, keeping a careful eye on Alex as he turned back and forth. She eyed the deep shadows on either side of the ridge.\n\nA long, low howl to her right suddenly broke the silence, sending icicles of fear down her back. Another howl from the other side of the ridge sounded in reply, closer this time. She looked from side to side, her fingers gripping the rifle so tightly that, had her knuckles been visible in the darkness, they would have been white.\n\nA rustling from her left made her turn, bringing her rifle to bear. She saw a pair of bright green eyes staring back at her from the darkness, each one a glowing orb. As she watched, another pair of eyes came into view, then another, and another. Soon there were almost two dozen of them out there.\n\nAlex backed up against her shins, growling, as she watched the eyes approach from all sides. She flicked on the night vision in her rifle's scope and raised it to her eye, her trigger finger itching to fire. The surrounding shadows came closer and closer. Claire swallowed.\n\nShe was afraid of the dark, but she was determined that she would live to once again see the light." ]	2
	[WP] Scientists have discovered immortality, and only a few people choose not to accept it. You are the last of these people, and you are on your deathbed, trying to explain the concept of death to your young son.	[ "\"I will be the last to die...\"\n\nMy own voice sounded unfamiliar. My 15 year old son stares at me with a confused look plastered on his face. The doctors had just left. They tried for hours to convince me to accept the drug that would prevent my death, now and forever. \n\nMy son did not have to say anything. I paused for a moment to collect the right words to explain my motivations in a way he could understand. I still don't believe it was enough.\n\n\"Soon I will die. I will no longer exist. That is, of course, if there is no God. I'd like to think there is one, even if there is not. I'd like to think that there is a heaven and that I will go there... when I die. Then again, who wants to go to hell?\n\n\"Son, I don't know the right words to explain how I feel. I've never been good at expressing my feelings. I guess the best way to explain it how I feel about immortal life would be to compare it to a sandbox video game, like Minecraft. You can do anything you want. Eventually though, after doing everything you wanted, everything the game offers, boredom sets in. There is no meaning. The goals you set have been achieved or will be achieved if given enough time. There is no where else to go. No closure. No high score. No time limit. No purpose.\n\n\"But, my death will give my life meaning. What I did in my short time will define me. I used my time to find a woman I love and pledge to be with her for all my life. I cannot get those years back. I do not have an eternity to find another if we don't work out. I chose to get an education and become an accountant. I do not have the time to change my mind, even though I dreamed of becoming a musician. I chose the safe route to be able to be sure you would have a stable home. I gave up my dream willingly, knowing I would never be able to live it. I did it for you and your mother. I have no regrets.\n\n\"What we each do with our lives is what makes us who we are. I lived my life knowing one day I would die and used my time how I thought was best. This made my choices more important. If I live forever... these choices mean nothing.\n\nRemember as a kid, you used to love macaroni and cheese? Now, you rarely eat them. You no longer desire it. Now, imagine if you lost desire for everything you loved. I feel this will happen if I live forever. It may take centuries, but at some point nothing will interest me anymore. Nothing will bring me happiness. \n\n\"I know this probably doesn't make sense to you. It doesn't really make sense to me either. Still, I feel like I need to die. It's the natural order of things. Everything must come to an end, whether it be a book, movie, series, or a life.\n\n\"All this hinges on the finality of life. What if I get to heaven and have everlasting life, and still feel these things? Endlessly singing praises, yet still feel unhappy. Still feel as if I have no meaning... Maybe when I get to heaven and find everlasting life to be endless reincarnations in endless universes. I won't know until I die. \n\n\"One day you will make this decision for yourself. I will support your decision either way, regardless of whether or not you support my decision now. \"\n\nMy son stared out the window throughout my pitiful speech. I doubted anything I said had any effect. I scooted over in my bed and let him crawl up next to me. We fell asleep together that night. I passed in the night.", "The steady beeps of the heart monitor cut through the silence on the quiet sterile hospital room. The smell of flowers sent by loved ones, waif woefully through the air doing little to ease the solemn tone created by your circumstances. So many news reporters and camera crews wait outside the hospital hoping to be the first to tell the story, even if they were denied their coveted interviews with the last mortal man. You never cared much for the news. Denying them an audience with you seemed fitting in a way. Besides you wanted your last moments to be with your son. He means the world to you.\n\n\"I just don't understand.\" Your son finally chokes out, tears in his eyes as they stare blankly trying to make sense on the situation. \"You don't have to do this..\"\n\nYou take a deep breathe. \"I know, son. I'm not doing this to hurt you though. I hope you know that.\" You speak, trying hard to collect your thoughts.\n\n\"No one has to die anymore though. You can live forever and see me grow up and your grandchildren grow up. Don't you want that!?!\" your son speaks, his voice distressed as he tries hard to convince you of what you're missing out on\n\nYou draw another deep breathe. \"Son...I've lived a long life. Eighty-eight years is a very long time to live whether you realize that yet or not. I've seen the world change entirely time and time again just in my lifetime alone. I can't express how grateful I am that I got to be alive, to live the life I have, to see you grow up, and even fall in love and get married.\" You cover your mouth and cough, feeling the fluid in your lungs.\nYou breathe in and look at your son, tears still streaming slowly down his cheeks, unable to understand the logic behind your actions. Slowly you speak. \"Do you remember what your mother looked like?\"\n\nYou son looks into your eyes and slightly nods his head, though you can tell its very difficult for him to.\n\nYou take a breathe. \"I don't expect you to. You were only seven at the time it happened.... This april makes it twenty-three long years since she passed away...\" \nYou take another breath and look at you son before looking up at the ceiling \"I see her face every time I close my eyes and I pray every single night before I fall asleep that i'll see her in my dreams.\"\n\nYou take another breath. \"I know that given the choice I could live forever and it would be a wonderful existence filled with unimaginable things. But I don't think a thousand lifetimes could come close to matching how I felt when your mother was around.\"\n\nYour son stares at you, holding your hand and sobbing heavily, tears streaming down his face at this point and falling to the tile floor. \"I love you so much dad.\"\n\nYou breath a shallow breathe and look into his eyes. \"I love you too son, and I always will.\"\n\nYou exhale.", "Beep.......Beep\n\nThe eerie sound cut through the silence in the hospital room. My son Ben looked at me intently in what he knew were to be our last moments together. I appreciated that he didn't try to convince me to take the drug. It was so mature of him to accept my beliefs and let my life end on a happy note. I was so proud.\n\nYet, I could see the concern behind his fake smile. He didn't understand, and that was fine. I guess the least I owed him was an explanation. \n\n\"Son, what is your favorite television show.\"\n\n\"Umm, I don't know, the X-Files. Why are you asking me about that now?\"\n\n\"And how did you like the last season of X-Files, the one where they got rid of Mulder and put in new leads?\"\n\nHe sat there and pondered the question. Ben was really smart for a 13 year old boy and he was probably wondering why I asked about something so trivial as I waited on my deathbed, but he humoured me.\n\n\"It was awful,\" he confirmed.\n\n\"You are damn right it was.\"\n\nWe both busted out in laughter. Normally, I'd expect a son my age to watch something more childish like Spongebob Squarepants of Blues Clues, but I am glad I got to experience some more adult things with him while I could. X-Files was our guilty pleasure, the thing we had that no one else had a claim on. Thank God they rebooted it, even if it included that awful 9th season.\n\nAs the laughter died down, a more serious air filled the room as we looked at each other.\n\n\"I am going to die soon. Do you know what that means Ben.\"\n\n\"Kinda.\"\n\nI glanced lovingly at him. God I am so happy Ben was my son. \"Well, son, life is a fragile thing. Do you remember your old dog, Scrappy.\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"Well, son, Scrappy isn't on a farm.\" I said bluntly, with a tear in my eye. \"Scrappy isn't alive anymore. We buried him.\"\n\nBen listened intently. I could see him barely holding back tears, but a part of him looked curious, genuinely curious about the prospect of death. \n\n\"After he was buried, his body decomposed to become the soil, and now he is part of all the life we see. It's the circle of life.\"\n\nI paused, unsure how to proceed. \"Now Ben, I have lived my life. I had experiences, I met your mother, and I had you. Sometimes things have to end, like X-Files. \nAfter all these years, it is just my time to go. To go be with Mom and with Scrappy.\"\n\nA single tear went down my eye. I could tell my time was near. Breathing became harder, more sporadic. But I fought it. I wanted every minute I could have watching my boy, watching him become a man.\n\n\"I love you son. I know you will be a great man someday.\"\n\nBen couldn't hold back anymore. His eyes gushed out tears. He hugged me for what felt like the last time as he whispered in my ear, \"I'll always remember you Dad. I love you.\"\n\n\"I love you too son.\" I wheezed out. \n\n\"I'm sorry son, but I have lived a great life and I've had a long run. I'll never let it be the 9th season of X-Files.\"\n\nBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP", "I didn't remember how long I had dipped out of consciousness, only that it was long enough for Michael, my tall, handsome, wonderful son, to leave the room, get food, and come back. I felt my eyes open and roll around, taking in the machines, the medical staff in the hall, the anti-death protesters outside. Olanna will have to fight through that crowd. My head moved down slightly, to look at my feet under the covers. They were there, both laying down, one to each side. I couldn't feel them, but I could make them move up and down slightly. My eyes rolled over to my hand. The veins on the back of it were a deep, deep blue. The skin was sallow and dry. I saw some of my hair laying down across my shoulder as my eyes walked up my arm. It was neither grey nor white, but somewhere in between. My salon lady, Gretel, had tried to do things with it, but it had been years since she had a client who aged.\n\nMichael came back into the room, finishing chewing something. Our eyes met. 'Mom.' 'Hi Michael. I'm sorry I went away again. I know it's very taxing on you.' Michael moved as if to speak, but then simply turned and circled around the bed until he was sitting in the chair. His bright smile, his orange-flecked eyes, his mocha skin, his long hair pulled back. He looked just like his father, my Alan. The only person in our state besides me to refuse to accept the immortality treatments. He passed 3 years ago. Or was it 4? 'Mom, the doctors are really worried. They're not sure they'll know what to do when you finally go.' 'Michael,' I smiled, 'I don't give a rat's ass what their worries are. I'm soon to leave this world, and I could not be more ready.' \n\nOutside, the sirens came rolling in: an ambulance accompanied by police to get through the mob of people protesting me, me, an 84-year-old woman who just wanted to die in peace. In the hall, a passing nurse looked in long enough to form an opinion to share at the nurses' station later. Her smile was feignful. \n\nA beeping sound. Michael looked at his phone as my eyes rolled around again to find him. He looked up. 'Olanna's downstairs but they don't believe she's your daughter. I'll go get her.' I worried he might not be back in time: I could feel my hands slipping away and my torso growing light. 'Michael. I know this is hard for you...' 'Mom, don't.' 'No, you'll let me or I'll kick the shit out of you.' We both smiled. His face was marked with aqueous eyes and quivering lips. 'I know you never understood this choice. It wasn't what you think. Your father and all those other chose so they could protest immortality. That whole town in Bulgaria did it. They even named their townsquare after your father. I didn't do it for that.' A coughing fit fell upon me, and Michael put a hand on my chest like the doctors' recommended to ease the pain. It really did nothing for me, but I was happy it made him feel better.\n\n'Michael. I'm not leaving you because I hate you. I'm not leaving you because I care about the cause. I'm letting myself die because I watched my mother die. I watched her slowly roll over and sleep, then sleep less, then be still. I watched her die and in that moment, I didn't feel sadness. I felt so proud. I felt her pride. I felt her pride of me. I know that the last thought she thought was of me, my sister, and my father.' Michael's lips stayed quivering as his eyes over-flowed and streams poured down his cheeks. 'That was an amazing gift. To know I was somebody's last thought.' I started to cough again, but pushed through it. 'Michael, the last thing I will think of. The last thought to cross my mind. The last memory to make me feel. The last of anything I do, will be a thought of you and Olanna and your father.' 'I should go get Olanna.' 'Yes, you should. But kiss me first.' Michael leaned over and kissed my lips. His were salty from the tears and unsteady from the thought of his mother being the last human to willfully die from aging.\n\n----\n\nOlanna and Michael came into my room. I had fought to stay there until I saw them. My children. My tall, stunning, wise daughter. My strong, striking, big-hearted son. I saw them and I felt a smile grow across my face like one I had never felt before. I looked at them, standing there, frozen, save for their faces which quaked with fear and confusion and resentment and anger and love and sadness and grief and guilt. I looked at them and I re-remembered why I did this for them. 'I love you, Michael. I love you, Olanna.' I felt my body fall away from me. Just as it did, Olanna's hand held mine and her lips kissed my knuckles. The lightness of having no body was ecstasy. The eyes closed. The breath slowed. The heart beat less and less. The tears stopped. The smile\n\n----\n\nMichael stood at the podium outside the hospital. The press had to know what it was like to say goodbye to the last human who would die of old age. He moved to speak, but turned away. Olanna stepped in to rescue her brother. 'Our mother, Alice St. Croix, died 20 minutes ago, her hand in mine. My brother explained to me why she chose to die. It was not part of a campaign. It was not part of commentary on the world we live in. It was the greatest and best gift we were ever given.' Olanna paused and looked back at her brother, before turning to the microphones again. 'It was a great gift she gave us. One I will give to my children too some day.' The crowd fell still. The air was alive with confusion. 'I have decided to opt out of immortality. I will not be receiving the gift like I am supposed to in a few weeks. I owe it to my mother to give my children the amazing gift I, and my brother, have received. Thank you.'\n\nIn the ensuing mayhem, 13 people were trampled to death, 24 received disfiguring or debilitating wounds, 5 lost limbs or digits, and 1 was sexually assaulted by an opportunist who lingered at large crowds just for such an event. Olanna and Michael stood in their mother's former hospital room and watched the riot out the window. Olanna embraced Michael and said, 'Michael, was dad right? Was this not the world we should want? Will this be the end of us?' 'I don't know Olanna, but I'm just grateful you set the example for me to follow.' Olanna flipped her head up to meet Michael's gaze. 'If mom and you are brave enough to give such a gift, why shouldn't I be?'", "It’s a little like leaving a party while everyone is still in the midst of a great time. You’re slowly drawing closer to the door, the scent of food and coffee and drinks still hanging in the air. Your hand closes around the door handle and you smile vaguely. It’s your time to go. But you wouldn’t tell anyone that. Let them have their fun. As you back away, you catch someone else’s gaze, for a moment. A smile, a laugh, a nod good bye, and then you turn. You throw your scarf over your shoulder and quietly walk away, into the frosty night. " ]	5
	[WP] Breaking News: [insert business here] now officially owns America.	[ "Elegance is simplicity. That had always been their motto and it is truly amazing how naturally and simply it just happened. Genius marketing and dedicated followers had always been the foundation of this company, perhaps it was only a matter of time before they realized that they good put these tools to more ambitious purposes. The real challenge had been in the beginning when their propaganda machine was truly tested. Apple released version after version of a series of i phones, amassing huge profits while investing quite minimally in research and innovation while still convincing their loyal followers that somehow each version was better than the one before and infinitely superior to the rest. All of this money was held up and declared to be a part of a secret enterprise which would propel the company to greater heights. And then it slowly began. Apple started dealing with and acquiring some poorer nations from Africa and Asia at first. They projected themselves at good Samaritans who would take care of all debt the countries had and create jobs and wealth lifting these underdeveloped countries out of the dredges of poverty. They claimed this way they could do in 5 years what bill gates and all his organizations could not in 20. It even seemed to be working as standards of living improved in these nations. Although, a lot international organization doubted them, reporting that the growth seems quite unsustainable and that Apple's intentions needed to be thoroughly confirmed, the legality of their actions verified. However, the developed world lost in the complexity of its own problems left their warnings unheeded. Then after having acquired many such corporate-states, the announcement came. The iphone 15 with all its new and brilliant features would only be released in Apple owned countries. The smartphones were shipped and unboxed with raving reviews as the American population grew restless and discontent, uneasy without what they felt they needed, what they craved the most. Apple's CEO was scheduled to make a huge appearance to address its American followers and while most of it was frill and a whole lot of nothing, a single, seemingly half-joking comment he made would change the course of American history forever. \"We could do it here you know, same deal, we can take care of your debt too, no problems\" he smiled. It was plain as a clear sky what the worshipers of the half bitten apple must do. What they were meant do. Revolutions sparked, the country came to a standstill as the most solidified and resolute group of protesters this country had ever seen came together and took the political landscape of the United States by storm. Politicians addicted to their seat and their power caved into the pressure and gave the fanboys what they so dearly caved. We had been waiting with dread as we surely knew what was coming for us. But we never truly felt the full impact of it till it was made official. Us PC and android users and all those who saw through Apple's facade had to stick together now, life had just gotten extremely difficult. This is the point where our trials and our struggles began. When it flashed on all our television sets and every news channel. Breaking News: Apple now officially own America. ", "\"we interrupt this program to bring you The Future of White America. Soledad O'Brien Reporting. In a bizarre move by Obama has handed over the rights and ownership of Americas government both internal and external to a group that we thought was loosing support. Obama had this to say.\"\n\n\"This was a well thought out move on behalf of the people America. At this point in time I cannot release the identity of the new leader or leaders. I can only say that they have a 40 year plan that will improve the quality of life for citizens of The divided states of America. We will start to see results in the first three months\"\n\n\"Having gained no clue at this point who the Quote \"identity of the new leader or leaders\" end quote, me and the film crew I work with spent three days spying on the the comings and goings of the white house. We were surprised when we saw David Duke spending long hours with Obama. David Duke is also known as a former leader of the KKK. We currently do not know what this means for America however if losing my job is the worst thing that happens in the next three months America still have hope. Soledad reporting, more news at six\"", "Comcast's takeover seemed so obvious at the time. A company so good at forcing themselves onto the people could only be the perfect candidate for a hostile takeover. It also didn't help that most of our government was already infiltrated by Comcast foot soldiers. Their endless supply of money they earned from fucking their \"customers\" over paid for their weaponry. The difference between the old US and the U.S. (Sponsored by Comcast) is appalling. No one would have ever guessed what kind of poverty would ensue after such a greedy company took the reigns. The new government charged us for everything. Hospital maintenance fees, standing army fees, and we even paid for the police that would oppress us. The rift between rich and poor grew larger. I started a resistance the second I got news of the takeover. I knew what evil we were facing and I knew what to do. We were going to get payback for all the times we were on hold. We were going to fuck Comcast up. ", "BREAKING NEWS: EA NOW OWNS THE UNITED STATES\n\nMarch 1, 2018- Washington, DC\n\nIn a remarkable last moment deal dramatically rushed through both houses of congress and signed by the President, the faltering US government has been bailed out by gaming giant EA games. The gaming company, flush with cash in an unexpected gaming microtransaction windfall, was able to buy the country in an agreement that will see the US debt free in twenty years. China, the United States' primary creditor, is said to have leaned heavily on the US government to support the deal, threatening otherwise to call in all of their loans payable immediately, a move which would have shattered the US economy.\n\nCEO Andrew Wilson said in a statement today, \"EA Games is proud to have made this investment. God bless EA's America.\" He went on to discuss some changes in policy that will likely be taking shape over the next few months.\n\n\"Citizens will have more freedom to choose the way they are governed than ever before,\" said Wilson. \"Don't like the second amendment? Don't pay for it; Americans who don't want to own guns will be saved tens of thousands per year. Or save by buying amendments in packages; the copper package allows you to choose three amendments from the bill of rights to be protected by, the silver will allow you to choose six, and so on.\" \n\nWilson went on to discuss means of upgrading America's infrastructure. \"All roads,\" he said, \"will be toll by plate, with fees assessed by the mile. Citizens will save even more money, because the slow lane will be half the price of the fast lane. In a real hurry? Pay twenty dollars, and you can pass a car!\"\n\nHailing the move as 'the dawn of Microtransacted Government', analysts say that this will be a very interested adventure in the American experiment indeed.\n\nIn other news, we're invading Canada.\n" ]	4
	[WP] "Yeah, I get that, but what ARE you?"	[ "I took the job. Another hit, another paycheck, another goddamned white buffalo to hunt. Killing was my life. Killing was my nightmare. \n\n\"Are you ready for this?\"\n\n\"Not yet. Soon, we'll want you to pull the trigger.\" They played patty cake. They embraced. They held hands. They were in love. They wanted death. \n\n\"Yeah, I get that, but what ARE you? Why?\"\n\n\"No questions, remember? Your policy, not mine.\" They spoke in unison. They were so dulcet, so in love it was sickening. I did not like this. I did not like the target and the client to be the same entity. They did not deserve it by my rational. But they paid their money.\n\n\"Do you really want this?\"\n\n\"Listen, we'd just botch the job. You were highly recommended to us by you know..\"\n\n\"You want me to kill you and you won't say his name?\"\n\n\"He told us not to. Told us you might take offense at him telling people about you. But we mean well. We're good people.\"\n\n\"You're a couple of nut-jobs. I won't do this.\" I couldn't. Wouldn't. This was wrong.\n\n\"If you don't, we'll do it ourselves.\"\n\nI flipped a coin, and made my decision.", "\"Yeah, I get that, but what ARE you?\" he calmly said.\n\nGeorge furrowed his brow. \"Is that how you're going to say it?\" he asked, cavalierly.\n\n\"No, no. I'm workin' on it\" he replied.\n\n\"Say it like this,\" chimed Elaine. She squinted her eyes as she prepared to get into character. \"Yeah, I get THAT, but what are you?\"\n\n\"No!\" Jerry dismissively exclaimed. He lifted his hand as if to mimic the pose of what he imagined to be a classically trained thespian. \"YEAH, I GET that, but what are YOU?\" His arm shook dramatically with each emphasized syllable that he belted.\n\n\"No, no.\" Kramer retorted, again, wagging his index finger in the air. \"That's no good. See, you don't know how to act.\"\n\n\"THESE PRETZELS... ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!\"\n\nThe group looked at George with a collective expression of disapproval.\n\n\"Oh, that was no good?!\" responded George, contentiously." ]	2
	[WP] A large group of quarantine patients exiled to an island are the last known remnants of human life. Civil war breaks out on the island between those who want to leave and those who want to stay.	[ "'We have to go! We have to know if we're the last one's alive!' demanded James.\n\n'Says who?' Jess cried out 'I don't care, they exiled us! We should leave them to rot.. like they left us!'\n\nMurmurs of assent came from half the room. Jess had to be strapped to the helicopter with sedatives.\n\n'But what about our families? By leaving them we're potentially letting them die. What about that?' countered Amy. She had been separated from her family so it was easy to see why she wanted to go back.\n\nJess straightened up 'I'll say this: I don't care. I'd rather stay here, build a life for ourselves and be happy rather than die trying to save the people who imprisoned us. If you agree feel free to follow me to the North side of the compound!' She storms out of the room. Half of the room leaves.\n\n'Now then..' Amy began 'I'm guessing if you're here you want to go back, right?'\n\nWe nod our heads.\n\n'Okay then, seeing how we have the south side we've got the hydroponics and generators. We should make sure that the North doesn't try and attack us and seize our supplies. Who volunteers for first watch?'\n\nI raise my hand.\n\n'Great, I'll stay up with you' she smiles.\n\nAmy's an attractive woman. I bet the other guys are regretting their choice right now.\n\n...\n\nIt's nighttime. A few people were woken up to bolster our defences a bit. So far it had been pretty quiet. Unfortunately, we didn't know much about where we were so we couldn't find any security rooms and use the cameras peppered around the buildings.\n\nA cry in the West Block shouts out 'They're here, they're here! Help!' before it is cut out by a scream.\n\nI sprint towards the West Block. A woman, Clarice I think, is sprawled on the floor covered in blood. I expect to see Jess or her followers to be there but there isn't. \n\nThere's a pack of dogs eating her. Not normal though; they're bigger, with rows of tendrils coming off their head and they have black scales.\n\nI back away before they can look up. Too late. They seem to sense my presence. I run blindly and hid escape through a door. They're still coming. I fumble for anything to help me. A button 'clicks' and the doors slam shut together. I watch the things howl and scratch at the door but before too long I run. The others have to know...", "Sara stood in front of the group, all of them armed to the tooth with makeshift weapons. If anything, she always kept her promises.\n\nShe said there would be war.\n\n“Are you going to join us or not?” she asked, her nose tilted upwards.\n\nNo one in our group said anything, save for Lee. Shorter than most his age, he still wasn’t afraid to walk forward. He was the only person brave – or maybe foolish – enough to defy Sarah’s tyranny.\n\n“We’re not going,” he said, gesturing to the rest of us behind him. “And you shouldn’t either. There’s nothing out there for us.”\n\nSara scowled, her tan knuckles whitening as she gripped her spear tighter. The light of the setting sun reflected in her eyes, like a fire burning in a grassland.\n\n“Do you really think that we’re all alone? There has to be someone – somewhere – that survived.\n\nLee shook his head.\n\n“I doubt it. If they did, how would you know where to look?”\n\n“That doesn’t matter,” she spat. “We should at least try. Otherwise, what’s the point in living?”\n\nLee looked back at the group, his emotionless face scanning each one of us. Unlike Sara’s, his eyes were a cold obsidian. After a few seconds of silence, he turned back to Sara, clearing his throat.\n\n“The point in living is to stay here and do the best we can. Do you not see the children and elderly behind me? There is no way they can brave the conditions out there. It would be best to make do of what we have here. If someone comes, great. If not, then we’re still well off.”\n\nSara said nothing, chewing her bottom lip pensively. After some time, she lowered her weapon and walked towards Lee, an arm outstretched. While I could see Lee’s face, I always imagined that he smiled when they shook hands.\n\nThat was, until she stab him through the abdomen.\n\nFrom that day forth, the society we strived so hard to create on the island caved in on itself. The two groups splintered further as more ideals clashed until it was every man for themselves. Death became commonplace as piles of bodies littered the ground no matter where you went.\n\nMost people became hermits, afraid of any human interaction. I adopted the lifestyle myself, the only person I cared enough about being the first to go. Without my brother, I didn’t want to take chances with anyone else.\n\nAfter only a month into the conflict, I learned that nearly all of the population of the island had been killed off. Sara included, ironically. She never got to see what was beyond here despite trying so hard to. I didn’t feel sorry for her, though. It was her insatiable lust for the world that caused all the chaos that had ravaged so many.\n\nBut over time, I began to develop the same wanderlust. Call it trying to escape my fears or maybe my curiosity was also piqued but I dreamt of leaving this hell. Whatever it was, I prayed for the day that either death or the outsiders took me, whatever came first.\n\nAnd to my surprise, my prayers were heard. I don’t remember what happened in detail but seeing the metal behemoth sailing across the waters sent me into a state of panic. I rushed towards the beach, something no one without a death wise would do.\n\nMore survivors had gathered there, all too distracted by our saviors to kill their fellow man. Some prayed, others cried. Some even hugged those closest to them. Whatever they did, there was no malice in their intentions.\n\nWhen the ship docked and birth a plethora of rafts towards us, I was overcome with emotion. I broke down, tired of war and fearing for my own life. And in that moment, I only wished I could have been there with my brother.", "\"Daddy?\"\n\"Yes pumpkin?\"\n\"Why can't we all live together, then maybe we will all be happy?\", said 8 year old Ria, my daughter, and the last child alive.\n\nHow could you explain that people had different ideas, and did not want to stick together even in the face of extinction?\n\n\"Those people want to stay back here, Ria. We want to get away from this island, and sail the high seas to look for land.\"\n\nRia turned her head and gazed at the horizon, where the sun was now setting. Although the innocence quivered in her eyes, she has seen many things that an 8 year old should not. It had been 4 years, four long years since the extinction. The human race was brutally annihilated, from an uncontained strain of anthrax engineered in Malaysia. People dropped like they were shot, with blood gushing out of all their orifices, along with brain matter and bile. Humanity was totally wiped out. Governments toppled instantaneously, rebels took to micromanaging their own areas. But there was no stopping the disease, it ravaged the entire world.\n\nExcept for the 30 of us. Somehow, we were never affected, the researcher amongst us speculates that we had antibodies to the disease. There was no way to test, as the island was primitive and primeval. We coexisted, right in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, until a month ago. \n\nWe wanted to leave, to look for survivors, and to rebuild. They wanted to stay back and remain confined to that abominable strip in the middle of nowhere. \n\n\"Prep the boats\", I called to Lui, second in command, \"we need to leave by dawn tomorrow.\"\n\n\"Daddy, will we all be okay?\"\nI swallowed hard. \"Yes we will, pumpkin.\"\n\nHumanity was ready to rise again.", "The rebels storm the research labs. \"Quickly, man, they're here!\" yelled one of the scientists. \"No...its almost complete...\" \"91...92...93...\" The door flung open. Xaros, the rebel leader, fired his gun into the air and sneered at the remaining scientists. \"You think you can get away treating us like lab rats, like some sick hobby of yours is it?\"\n\"Now fork over the Cure you'd been hiding all along. We have ships waiting in the harbor and fresh supplies to repopulate the mainland. Just give it to us and we'll live you alone.\"\n\"BEEP! SYNTHESIS COMPLETE\" The computer AI declared.\nThe rebels reached for the source of the voice. \"Fine. Fine. The Cure is yours. Just take it please! We're sorry for experimenting on you, so now just leave us alone!\" said the lead scientist. Xaros looked straight into the scientist's face. \"Ok.\"\nThey plundered the research labs for every single useful item. On the floor was a stream of blood, and several red-stained lab coats. The leader shouted a war cry and finally decided to leave, until...\nBOOM...BOOM...BOOM. Earth-shattering explosions rocked the island to its depths. Far away from the coastline, a ship horn blared. \"Them lot don't deserve to live; one too selfish, one too stupid.\" \"But we, we probably do.\" Angelus laughingly said while looking through his microscope. \n\n", "When the disease hit, it hit hard. People died faster than we could figure out how they were dying. You're walking down the street, someone sneezes and you start to feel light headed. In an hour you feel extremely tired. You lie down for a nap and you don't wake up. Just stopped breathing. Nothing wrong with you biologically, you just stopped living. People freaked out. Some blamed it on pollution, some blamed it on genetically altered food. Some called it the wrath of God. No one lived long enough to figure it out. The population dwindled. If you didn't die from the disease you died from the fighting. People fought over everything. Who started it? What started it? One country becomes weaker from it and another sees it as an opportunity to invade. Soon they were handing kids a surgical mask, a rifle, and shipping them off.\n\nWe were the lucky few. An upstart group of \"revolutionaries\" they called themselves. They saw how the population was falling, how it was all going to hell. They decided to escape, to hide, to save what was left of the human race. One hundred men and women, aged between 15 and 25 were sent to a remote island in the middle of the ocean. Only our best and brightest. They were given nothing of the old world, fearing that any materials could potentially bring the taint with them. And so we were stranded. 200 people left to fend for themselves on a deserted island with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We started from nothing and worked our way up. Within two months we had our own little village. Everyone did their part to help. Some ventured into the forest to gather and hunt, while the rest of us built. Another month passed and couples started to emerge. John and Sally would start sharing a tent at night, Sue and Tom would go on long hikes in the early mornings, that kind of thing. Things were going well. We lived an entire year without incident. Groups emerged in our little society.\n\nThis is where it started to go to shit. The hunters found something in the forest. A group of them were out scouting the unexplored parts of the island when they found it. A cave. It didn't have a very large opening, in fact they almost didn't see it. All twenty of the men went in. Only one came back out. When he made it back to the village, no one wanted to believe what he told us. He told us they went in and everyone started feeling weird. He couldn't describe it at first, but as they went deeper the feeling became stronger. Soon he was able to place the feeling. It was anger. Soon everyone in the group was irritated with each other for no reason. The survivor told us he wanted to leave the cave but the rest of the hunters didn't. They started fighting, shouting at one another. He said he couldn't remember how he got out of the cave or back to camp, but he does remember someone picking up a rock...\n\nThe rest of us all agreed to never go near this cave again, even though it was in the center of the island. Everyone agreed and stayed away from it. For a time. 5 years passed and no one went near it. Things were good. The village grew and soon we had a small town. We made tools to cut stone and we where able to build houses that wouldn't fall over in a storm. We grew crops and raised the pigs and other livestock we found on the island. We were divided into even more groups. We had the farmers, the builders, the stone workers etc. etc. Things were looking up... Until someone decided to pay a visit to the cave.\n\nIt had been six years. Six years everyone lived on this god forsaken piece of dirt. We grew here. We lived here, not survived, but lived. We were peaceful and we all got along. But now. Now the anger affects all of us. Like the disease of the old world, it would ravage our population. Half of us wanted to live here and the anger drove us to protect our home. The other half wanted to leave, and it drove them to fight. The builders wanted to leave, to find what happened to the old world and salvage what they could. The hunters wanted to stay, to continue living like they knew how to, fearful of the disease that had killed so many. And so they faught. First it was just words. They debated in their homes. In the streets. Soon the whole town was divided, split down the middle, with everyone on one side or the other. When words turned into action.... Well, no one could resist shedding blood.\n\nThe anger drove us. The hunters had the upper hand at first, they were proficient with their weapons. They used them every day after all. But the builders soon leveled the playing feild, and half the town, when they made their death machines. Catapults threw stones from one end of the town to the other and traps littered the streets where the children used to play. They were a crafty group, but they couldn't survive without food. The farmers went with the hunters, believing they had worked to hard in the fields to just abandon them. The builders knew they couldn't work the fields as well as the farmers, but they didn't have to. It was harvest time and they set traps all around the lush wheat fields, vegetable gardens and fruit trees. Neither side would starve that year. And so the war went on.\n\nThe next year the war ended. If your thinking it ended peacefully you havn't been paying attention. The hunters now saw the builders as invaders to their island. The builders wanted nothing more but to leave the island. They had been spending all their time and resources on building boats, hoping to leave for the old world. But the anger wouldn't allow for the two sides to reason. To find a compromise. It had to end in bloodshed. The engineers placed the deadliest traps around their makeshift harbor, trying to protect the crude boats they had managed to build. The hunters attacked in the night. They may have been used to the dark, but that didn't stop them from walking right into the traps. Half their force was wiped out in an instant, swept right off their feet by the giant boulders.\n\nThe anger flared through the ranks and the hunters surged into the harbor, killing anyone they could find. It didn't matter who it was. A total blood bath. Only one person made it to the boats... And so, here I sit, floating on the waves, not knowing which direction to go. The old world in one direction, and angery hunters in the other. The anger no longer clouds my mind, so I am able to record our history in earnest. I remeber it all, and record it, hoping that whoever may find this boat will know our story. I will die. Be it the old disease or the new one." ]	5
	[WP] You just got elected into the highest office in the land. You are taken into a dark room for a meeting and handed a dose of LSD. "You're gonna need it sir"	[ "My election was a huge success. I won the popular vote by 40%, and the electoral votes by 56. Amazing what a smile and money can do these days. My slogan was “Share the wealth!” I can’t believe that people ate it up. Of course, I have no intention of sharing anything. Over the next four years I will transform this democratic republic into a dictatorship. They will never see it coming.\n\nThe next day I entered office was the best day of my life. Everyone singing me praises and rejoicing my name. I smiled then, a true smile, for I knew my rule would be undisputed. After the partying, I moved everything I had into my new home. I had just finished hanging up the last painting when one of my agents, Simmons, came into my room. \n\n“Sir, you need to come with me.”\n\nNot another another party invitation. Didn’t he see I was busy? Just keep a straight face, it will all be worth it when I take over.\n\n“I’m good Simmons, I’m all partied out.”\n\n“No sir, you need to come with me.”\n\nThat freaked me out. All sorts of things came to my head. Had they uncovered my bribery? No, I covered that well enough. What about my criminal record? I thought I had that burned? No no no, they can’t know anything. Resigning to my fate, I followed Simmons out of my room. \n\nWe walked down the stairs and through a series of winding passageways. I questioned him many times about where we were going, but he never responded. Taking another turn, I found myself at a large iron door. Two more agents were standing guard next to it. They noded to me and opened the door. I couldn’t see anything inside, it was pitch black. I looked back at Simmons. \n\n“What is the meaning of this?”\n\n“This was my order sir.”\n\n“Order? From who?”\n\n“I can’t tell you that sir.”\n\n“What? Why?”\n\n“It’s classified.”\n\nI knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with this. Stupid Simmons, who does he think he is? I start to walk into the room. Simmons stopped me and placed something into my hand. It was a pill. I immediately recognised it as LSD. I look up to question Simmons, but he interrupted me.\n\n“You’re gonna need it sir.”\n\nWith that, he signalled to the other agents. They closed the heavy iron door with a solid THUD. I was left in the dark, with only my breathing and a LSD pill to keep me company. I waited for a minute, expecting something to happen. Nothing. I moved the pill around in my hand. They don’t want me to take the pill, do they? Is this a test? I waited a few more moments before popping the pill into my mouth.\n\n It went down easy, and nothing happened for a few seconds. Slowly, shapes started to form in the darkness. I saw a large square, a triangle, and a blob I couldn’t identify. As the shapes became sharper, the square became a table, the triangle a light, and the blob a man. The man was completely shrouded in shadow, I could only make out his outline. He spoke, a deep voice piercing the silence. \n\n“Sit.”\n\nI was powerless to object. A chair formed beneath me as I sat down. \n\n“Do you know why you are here?”\n\nI shook my head.\n\n“Good. Place your hands on the table.”\n\nMy hands were drawn like a magnet to the table. \n\nThe man waved his hand again, and two birds flew from behind me and landed by my hands. The bird at my right hand was a small, pure white dove. At my left, a large, black crow . They looked at me with their beady eyes, watching me, analysing me. The man spoke again.\n\n“I am the one they call the Judge. You have heard of my other names of course. Anubis, Dike, Justitia, the list goes on and on. It seems you have come into some power, are you worthy of it?”\n\nI nodded my head, still trying to process what was happening.\n\n“We’ll see.”\n\nHe reached into the air before him and drew out a pen and sheet of paper. He placed them on the table. The pen suddenly stood erect, as if struck by lightning. I watched as it wrote “Joe Smitch” at the top. The Judge picked up the paper but the pen still wrote. I listened to the scratching of pen on paper for what seems like an eternity. When it stopped, the Judge rolled the paper up into a tight column and placed it on the table. The birds left my hands and picked up the edges of the paper. The Judge drew a bold, white line with his finger underneath it. \n\n“Let’s see what you are truly worth.”\n\nThe birds started a game of tug of war. They pulled with their beaks, each straining against the other. The room around me suddenly exploded in color. I saw a large, grassy field. Two figures, a massive black one and a tiny white one, each radiating their colors, were standing in it, staring each other down. I realized they were different versions of me. Then the fight started. They charged with surprising speed and accuracy. They battled for what felt like hours, each becoming weaker with every blow. Until finally, the battle stopped. With a last, desperate punch, the black figure fell. The scene faded, and the birds came back into view. The crow was laying defeated at the feet of the dove. The Judge waved his hands, and the birds disappeared. \n\n“You have passed.”\n\nThe room faded into black again. The door opened, and light shone through. I realized I was curled up in a ball on the floor, covered in sweat. I got up, straightened my suit and walked out. The two agents saluted me as I walked past. I returned the gesture. Simmons was gone, but it was ok. Walking up to my room, I passed one of my campaign posters. “Share the Wealth” was written in large print in the center. I smiled, maybe sharing wasn’t so bad after all.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHey everyone, About4001llamas here. I hope you liked my writing! If you want more, check out /r/About4001llamas. Happy reading!", "\"I don't understand,\" I said. \n\n\"Don't worry. It will all become clear to you in a moment.\" The secretary handed me the little pill and a glass of water. \"Every president in the past 60 years has done this. Kennedy was the first,\" he said.\n\n\"But what is it?\"\n\n\"Lysergic acid diethylamide,\" he replied. \"Of course, this comes directly from PharmaCorp. Few people have access to the good stuff anymore--and for good reason.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I'm the president. I have more important things to do than dabble with silly hijinks like this. I must speak to the vice president\" I was about to dial for security, but the secretary reached across the table and grabbed my hand.\n\n\"I wouldn't do that, sir. Trust me.\"\n\nI don't know why, but something in the way he looked straight at me, and the intensity in his voice, made me stop. Then I noticed that under his shaggy gray eyebrows, his pupils were fully dilated, glistening like little pools of oil. \n\n\"Of course, it's impossible to stop people from wanting it,\" he continued. \"Every once in a while, some pops up, usually some leftover relic from a bygone era. It was Nixon who spearheaded its virtual elimination. Once he'd seen what it could do, he didn't want anybody else to--what passes for it now is usually just a cheap knock-off. It's easier to make them think they're getting the real thing.\" He reached into a briefcase and procured a folder marked \"Core Secrets\" in large red letters. He slid it across the table.\n\nSo, these are the perks of being a president. After a few minutes of thumbing through the documents, I finally said, \"Very well. Give it to me.\"\n\n\"Yes sir.\"\n\nI felt nothing at first. It came in waves, like a quickly rising tide, each more jarring than the last. \n\nAt last, I said, \"How long have they been trying to contact us?\"" ]	2
	[WP] You get send to an arena when you die, where you fight for a second chance. If you win, you get reborn. If you lose...	[ "Wrote this on my mobile, so please excuse any weird format errors. But by all means call out any spelling and grammar ones, it's how we learn after all!\"\n\nZeed awoke screaming in the darkness. He sat up, breathing heavily and desperately seeking some light, his screams still echoing through the void. He could feel sand all over his body, realised that he was naked and suddenly felt more exposed than frightened. \n\n\"Where am I?\" He shouted, not to anyone in particular. He thought that hearing his own voice might comfort himself somewhat.\n\n\"You're dead\" he heard his own voice reply. It took a moment for Zeed to realise he didn't actually say that, and that he wasn't alone. \n\n\"Who... Who are you?\" He queried into the darkness. \n\n\"I'm you...\" Came the answer, and with a click the world was suddenly bathed in light. Zeed stared up at the figure. It looked exactly like himself, except it was dressed in worn metal armour. The large plates that covered the torso were chipped and stained, the leather straps were tattered and some seemed to be mouldy. \n\n\"What is this?\" Zeed finally said. The armoured Zeed squatted down and ruffled naked Zeed's hair.\n\n\"This is your trial, Zeed.\"\n\n\"My trial?\"\n\n\"To determine whether or not you are... Worthy? No... That's probably not the right word... ... ... Deserving.\"\n\n\"Deserving!?\" Naked Zeed half screamed. \"Deserving of what!?\"\n\n\"Deserving of another chance. At life. I have to say, things aren't looking good for you.\" Armoured Zeed snapped back. He stood up and took a few steps away, then pointed off into the distance. \"Look!\" Naked Zeed looked at where Armoured Zeed was pointing and saw a giant, empty stone grandstand. He took a moment to look around and he realised he was in the middle of a gigantic colosseum. \n\n\"There's no-one, Zeed!\" Armoured Zeed shouted. \"No-one to cheer you on!\" \n\n\"Cheer me...\" Naked Zeed was feeling alone. Alone and exposed. \n\n\"Do you know why, Zeed!?\" Armoured Zeed was still shouting. \"Because you pushed everyone away! You were too concerned with yourself! You weren't interested in anybody but you! Never did a thing for somebody else, never spared a thought as to how your self interest would affect others... Never sat in the grandstand of anyone else's trial!\" \n\nNaked Zeed glanced back to the empty grandstand. He was starting to cry, not because he was alone, but because Armoured Zeed was incredibly scary and mean.\n\n\"And now here you are...\" Armoured Zeed continued. \"... Naked, alone... No family for armour, no friends for a sword... The very, very last of your life spent crying in the dirt...\"\n\nNaked Zeed looked back up at Armoured Zeed.\n\n\"What happens now?\" He said between sobs. \n\n\"Now I sever your soul. Cut it out of the cycle like a tumour, and I cast it into winds that they may take it far... far away.\" Armoured Zeed looked up at the sun, and it turned black. The sky began to burn a deep purple and dark clouds began to swirl rapidly around the horizon. \"You may fight back, if you want.\"\n\nNaked Zeed stood and started to back away. His mind rapidly recounting as many interactions with as many people he could, whilst glancing between Armoured Zeed and the grandstand, hoping he'd remember someone that would sit up there for him. His parents... His sister... His secretary... People from college... High school... Primary school... He always thought of himself as someone people liked, that people would miss... But the only expression he could see on all the people he remembered was disappointment. \n\nThe last face he saw was his own, partially hidden by a worn metal helmet. The expression, again, disappointment. Armoured Zeed withdrew his sword from Naked Zeed's chest and dropped it onto the dirt. \n\n\"Geez, Zeed...\" He said to the naked soul as it gradually turned to dust and blew away. \"...You weren't even there for yourself this time around...\"\n\n", "This is strange. And long.\n\nThe first thing that the man sees when he opens his eyes is a harried-looking government official in an ill-fitting suit. \n\n\"Ah -- you're awake,\" the official says. He looks down at the clipboard in his arm. \"Let me see, you're ... Alexander Mittelstadt? Is that right?\" \n\n\"Th-that's right,\" the man says blearily. \"Where am I?\" He turns his head. He's lying on a small, shabby looking couch in a white cell of a room. It smells like sweat, turpentine, and vomit — not necessarily what he expected to smell upon waking up from the afterlife. \"Wait—\" He sits jerkily upright and fumbles at his neck for a pulse. \"Am I — dead?\"\n\n\"Oh, good, you remember,\" the official says. \"Some don't. This makes it much easier. Yes, yes, you're dead, Mr. Mittelstadt. I'll give you a moment to let that sink in. Feel free to cry a bit.\"\n\nHe doesn't cry.\n\n\"I see. You're in shock. Well, all the better. This saves even more time. Just listen sharply, Mr. Mittelstadt: in a few moments, I'm going to open the door\"--the official points to the small door across from the couch--\"and you're going to walk out onto an arena. You'll be carrying this.\" The official reaches into his trouser pocket, rummages around impatiently, and then extracts a five foot long serrated spear. He hands this to the man, who accepts it numbly. \"In the arena, you'll encounter another person. You will fight. One of you must die. The person who wins will be reborn on earth. The person who dies--\"\n\n\" Now, hold on -- \"\n\n\"The person who dies will go to hell. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"But — you've got this wrong,\" the man protests. \"I was led to believe there'd be, like, pearly gates and angels and -- \"\n\nThe official nods curtly. \"Yes, our propaganda department is very good. Come now.\" He pulls the man up by the arm and leads him to the door. He puts his hand on the knob. \"Good luck.\"\n\n\"Wait!\" the man says. The official opens the door, easily detaches the man's grasping hands from his collar, and throws him out into the arena. Immediately, the man is greeted by the roar of a cheering crowd. Above him, the sky is nothing but blackness. Below him is dirt. Dazed, he grips the spear in his hands. Suddenly, he hears the crowd roar again -- a door on the other side of the arena has opened. The man squints. As the other figure approaches and grows clearer, his eyes widen.\n\n\"Richard?\" \n\nThe other man seems equally surprised. \"Alex!\" \n\nIt's his brother. The sight of the familiar face triggers a memory, and then the man is curled over his seatbelt in a cocoon of smoke, deafened by the screech of metal, by the sharp yelps of his brother in the passenger seat, as a rain of shattered glass explodes around them, and — oh yes, they'd died together. And he'd been the one driving — he'd had a few beers — God, he was stupid. He'd killed them both. The man feels the hot itch of horrified tears, and he shakes his head violently. \n\n\"Christ, Rich,\" the man says, his voice trembling, \"I'm so happy to see you.\" He stumbles forward, but his brother takes a step back. His brother is staring intently at the man's spear. The man halts. After a moment, he laughs, incredulously.\n\n\"Rich ... you don't -- you don't think I'm going to attack you with this, do you?\" \n\nHis brother shrugs uneasily. \"I don't know, Alex. That guy -- he told you the facts, didn't he? One of us is going to get reborn. And one of us -- \" He cuts himself off, licks his lips.\n\n\"One of us goes to hell,\" the man says quietly. \"I know. But, Rich, we can refuse to fight each other. We could just put these stupid things down now. They can't make us fight.\"\n\n\"Then they might send both of us to hell.\"\n\n\"Well -- so what? It doesn't matter what they do to us. You're my brother. We can't kill each other. That's impossible. That's just -- completely insane. We're still human. We can't ... we can't -- \"\n\nBut as the man speaks, he watches his brother's mouth tighten into a grim, frightened line. \"I don't like this any more than you do,\" his brother says, his palms leaving slick prints on the spear's shaft. \"But I'm not going to hell. I can't, Alex, I'm sorry, but I can't go to hell.\" His brother begins to cry. He doesn't lower his spear. The man flinches and tightens his grip on his own weapon. They stare at each other for a moment with their weapons raised and the crowd hushes above them. The man watches his brother's tears. Then, slowly, he relaxes his arms and his spear falls to the dirt. The crowd thinks it's a clumsy accident. They laugh.\n\n\"Then kill me, Rich,\" the man says. \"I've been a fuck-up in my lifetime -- but I'm not going to kill my own brother. I won't fight you. You go to heaven — hell, you deserve it more anyway.\" \n\nHis brother swallows. The man watches the movement of his brother's Adam's apple, appreciating for the first time the biological minutiae of life. He holds out his empty arms. His brother walks forward and pierces him with the spear in one long thrust and the crowd rises to their feet and screams. \n\n--\n\nThe first thing that the man sees when he opens his eyes is the harried-looking government official in an ill-fitting suit. \n\n\"You're awake,\" the official says. He helps the man sit up. \"Well, you've had quite an experience, haven't you?\"\n\nThe man looks around him. Same room as before, same ratty couch. \"Is this hell then? Has my brother been reborn?\"\n\n\"Yes, he's been reborn. Actually, everyone gets reborn. You will too. I'm afraid we fibbed a little.\" The official makes a rueful face. \"There's no such thing as hell.\"\n\nThe man pushes the official away furiously. \"What? Then why did you make us fight each other? That's horrible!\"\n\n\"We have to test you somehow.\"\n\n\"Test? Test for what?\"\n\n\"Why, for the right caliber of soul. You have to understand, we're an efficient little company — a non-profit organization founded in the last years of time. We set up shop here in the places between the end of one life and the beginning of the next, and we sift out the top souls — the strongest or the brightest or the most empathetic — through competitions like the one you went through. It's brutal, perhaps, but necessary, and since lifetime experiences can change a soul permanently, we have to retest the souls after every death. Once we've discovered the right souls, we give them a little nudge during their reincarnation. We push them towards the places where they're needed the most for history to progress the way it should. We can't control if a soul is reborn (they always are), and we don't have nearly the amount of energy necessary to control where every single soul goes. The bad ones, particularly, tend to go where they want. We only have enough power to affect a few souls per generation. That's why this selection process is so important.\" \n\n\"But — I don't understand. What are you being powered by? How is this possible?\" \n\nThe official smiles. \"I'm afraid you won't know that for a few thousand more years. Rest assured that the technology will be invented — partly through our efforts. We had to nudge a very intelligent soul to be reborn into a life that would lead him into physics. He was a writer in his past life.\"\n\nThe man puts his head in his hands. He begins to laugh. \"This — this is all a lot to take in,\" he says. \"What will I be reborn as?\"\n\n\"You?\" The official adjusts his glasses and glances down at his clipboard. \"Well, it looks like we've planned to nudge you towards a rather difficult reincarnation — a persecuted figure. But that's why we tested you the way we did. You'll need to be able to stand up for what's right against very strong opposition in your next life.\"\n\n\"I don't know if I can do that.\"\n\n\"We know you can. Or else history wouldn't be the same, and this company wouldn't exist. Come, it's time for you to be reborn. Shall we go now?\"\n\nThe official holds out his arm. The man takes it. He's led to the same door across from the couch that once opened to the arena. The official puts his hand on the knob. \"I'll see you after your next lifetime,\" he says. \"I look forward to meeting you again.\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" says the man. He closes his eyes and imagines, in some other world, a baby being born raw red and screaming, full of new life. The official opens the door. \n" ]	2
	[WP] God keeps deciding on your actions by sending you emails. One day, you meet the person of your dreams and immediately date. You then receive an email from God that says: Be afraid. Be very afraid.	[ "First impressions are important. She knows this.\n\n\nStill, it is also important not to jump to conclusions, and she knows this, as well.\n\n\nThey meet in the canned food aisle of the grocery store- she is looking for potatoes. She keeps buying bags of them, but she never uses them all in time.\n\n\nHe is looking for soup. She does not ask why.\n\n\nShe sees him look at her out of the corner of her eye. Sees him look again.\n\n\nHe asks her if she has an opinion on this particular brand. \n\n\nShe does not, but he persists in making conversation. She thinks he's rather handsome, so she allows this. He makes her laugh. It's a decisive factor.\n\n\nStill, her first impression of him is undecided- she feels a twinge of nervousness the first time he makes eye contact. \n\n\nHe doesn't blink enough, maybe, she thinks. \n\n\nHe holds eye contact for just a little longer than is comfortable, maybe, she thinks.\n\n\nBut still, he has beautiful eyes, so she doesn't mind, \n\nmaybe, \n\nshe thinks.\n\n\nThey meet in aisle four of the grocery store in the early afternoon and go to dinner in the evening. He had wanted her to come over, but she is too used to exercising caution to say yes, and so they agree that \n\nnext time, \n\nshe will come over, \n\nand he will make her soup.\n\n\nThey have both accepted that there will be a next time. This is not a question. \n\n\nOver matching plates of fish and rice washed in sombre colours by the low light of the restaurant, he tells her that he has run out of bones to make stock from, and she knows now why he asked her about the cans of soup.\n\n\nShe offers to stop by the butcher before their next date and bring him bones. It is the least she can do.\n\n\nAs soon as she says it, she realizes what a strange thing it may have been to say, but he laughs, because he is wonderful and understands her.\n\n\nHis eyes crinkle at the corners as he assures her he'll have new bones to use for stock soon enough. He does not look away or blink while he says this. \n\n\nShe is determined to believe that it does not make her uneasy. She has no reason to be uneasy.\n\n\nHe insists on paying the bill and she insists on splitting it. In the end, he relents, and she is afraid that her insistence has put him off, but he kisses her before getting into his car.\n\n\nHe does not offer her a ride home. She has already told him that she prefers to walk.\n\n\nIn turn, he has expressed approval. Walking is key to a lean and healthy body, he has said. One only has to think of the difference between a chicken that has been cooped and a chicken that has been ranged- the quality of the body is fundamental to the taste of the animal.\n\n\nIf she has thought this was a strange comment, she reminds herself again that his mind is still dwelling on his soup.\n\n\nShe has no doubt it will be delicious. The chill of the October air on her face as she walks makes her look forward to the heat of the bowl in her hands even more.\n\n\nBut still, the warmth that hits her as she unlocks her front door is welcome. Inside, she feels swaddled in contentment. She has met someone nice. He is funny and smart. He cooks. This is everything her mother has told her to look for in a man. \n\n\nShe climbs the stairs and thinks about his smiling eyes. Her roommate calls out to her. She does not hear. She is rewriting her memory- imprinting it. She does not want to forget. One day, she will have to tell the story of how they met.\n\n\nBefore she can turn to close the door to her bedroom behind her, her computer screen stirs awake in a flash of sudden light. The room is dim- it is later than she'd realized.\n\n\nIt is open to her internet browser. She has five tabs open, and there is an unassuming (1) beside the title of one. She has an e-mail.\n\n\nShe tabs over. The sender reads only as I AM THE SHEPHERD. There is no attached e-mail address.\n\n\nShe doesn't think much of it. \n\n\nThe shepherd began this many years before- when she was a child, it was letters. Now that she is grown, it is e-mails. She wonders if, one day, it will be something different. She looks forward to finding out.\n\n\nThe subject line is always the same.\n\n\nBE WATCHFUL, MY LAMB.\n\n\nShe is smiling when she clicks it.\n\n\nFEAR THE FALSE PROMISE OF THE UNBLINKING EYE, FOR THIS IS THE EYE OF THE WOLF AT HUNT. BEWARE THE SMILE THAT HIDES A SLAVERING TONGUE.\n\n\nTO MAKE HIS BROTH, THE WOLF HAS ALWAYS TORN THE FLESH FROM THE BONE OF THE EWE.\n\n\nTHE EWE HAS STRAYED WHILE THE LAMB IS STEADFAST, AND THE WOLF WISHES MOST OF ALL TO GLUT HIMSELF UPON THE PIETY OF MY CHILDREN.\n\n\nYOU MUST FEAR THE WOLF, MY LAMB, FOR YOUR FEAR IS RIGHTEOUS AND TRUE.\n\n\nFEAR HE WHO INVITES HIMSELF TO DINE UPON THE LAMB OF GOD.\n\n\nShe is no longer smiling. \n\n\nThe world of her eyesight has narrowed to less than is seen through a camera lens. She hears the blood rushing inside her ears. A terrible weight sits upon her chest.\n\n\nShe feels, rather than hears, her phone vibrate in her pocket.\n\n\nIt is with numb fingers that she pulls it free and tears her eyes from the word of god to check it.\n\n\nI'm looking forward to our evening together. When are you free?\n\n\nAnd how do you feel about mutton?", "I was standing in possibly the shittiest coffee shop in town (that had a holistic earthy quality to it i just cant put my finger on) when in walks a perfect ten! a total hottie! a knock out! I some how grew the nuts to go talk to her and before I know it im tractor beamed in and initiating conversation.\n\n\"hey there\" \n\n\"hi\" her voice, cream to my cheese\n\n\"...\" No ... come on dude ... say something ... FUCKING TALK DUDE!! YOU'RE KILLING ME!!\n\n\"ha ... have you ever been here before? You look familiar\" She didnt\n\n\"No haha I havent, I walk by here a lot and never stop in, but today I decided to! i dont know, it just has this holistic earthy quality to It I cant put my finger on!\" No fucking way ... she did not just say that ... my heart, butter.\n\n\"Really?? you think so? Its weird I had that same thought!\" hehe its weeeird i had that same thought fuckin come on man\n\n\"It is weird! but in a good way!\" What? Shes a goddess.\n\n\"hey uh ... you wouldn't want to ... grab a drink some time would you?\" Nice to know you lady\n\n\"yes actually, you seem nice and I'd like to get to know you!\" be still my beating heart\n\n\"really?? thats great! uh. I\"\n\n\"heres my number, call me tonight okay?\" our fingers touched when she gave her number, my whole body is warmer because of it.\n\n\"okay! um ... I didnt get your name!\"\n\n\"Its Lucy.\" she was in the sky and her name was the diamonds. oh yes.\n\n\"Alright ill call you later, Lucy.\" She walked off and into my heart. \n\nJust then my cellphone buzzes. Its an email ... oh for fucks sake, what does God want now?? first the sandwich fiasco now what?? I open the email \n\n\"Be afraid. Be very afraid\" what?? the fuck is this cryptic bullshit?\n\nI wrote back \n\n\"What the hell are you talkin about?\"\n\n\"Language dude, and Im talkin about her!\"\n\n\"What about her?\"\n\n\"You know I cant give you specifics, but ill tell you this ... she's from somewhere a lot warmer than what you're used to\"\n\nThe fuck does that mean?? Screw it, im giving her a call\n\nbuzz\n\n\"I wouldn't\"", "I walked through the door and flopped onto the bed. That was great. I definitely would do it again, and I will; we had a second date scheduled for next Saturday. I looked at my texts, to see if she said anything. Nothing, but there was a new email. I opened it.\n\nBe afraid. Be very afraid. Trust me, you don't wanna date her.\n\n- God\n\nNot again.\n\nI'm in love. I don't care what you think.\n\nA few seconds later, another reply popped up.\n\nSeriously, break up with her. She's one of those neo-Pagan chicks.\n\nPissed off because someone's not following His religion? I expected nothing less.\n\nAnd? She's smoking hot. Besides, at least she's not Satanist.\n\nGod was getting pissed.\n\nI don't care! I don't want you to see her again!\n\nUp yours, God! I love her, and I'm still gonna see you!\n\nKeep that attitude up, and I'm recalling you back to Heaven!\n\nYou're the worst dad ever!\n\nI never should've let you talk to Arius..." ]	3
	[WP] Aliens discover doodles you made in middle/high school and believe them to be religious iconography, what is your religion like.	[ "“We have recovered what we believe to be ancient symbols of the species Homo Sapiens your royal globness” declared the royal globvisor\n\nThe Glob King wheeled around in his levitating chair, smirks of intrigue sprouted from all five of his mouths. \n\n“Humans, you mean? those narcissistic bundles of meat always amaze me with their creativity… if not their savagery.” He confessed. “Please, let me guess, the images you’ve found depict war, starvation or slavery.”\n\nThe globvisor assessed the sacred parchment with all ten of his eyes, he then looked back towards his royal globness sheepishly. \n\n“N-no sir, It seems that it is something more… simple than that” The globvisor admitted.\n\n“Is it computing?”\n\n“No”\n\n“The harnessing of electromagnetic force?”\n\n“No”\n\n“Making fire with carbon-based organics?”\n\n“It seems not, Sir.”\n\nHis royal Globness pondered what may be more simple than the acquisition of heat energy. After thousands of Glob years he had never needed to guess something more than twice to know the answer - the glob beings elected their leaders based on intelligence, after all. \nThen it came to him, hitting him like a ton of inter-galactic bricks. \n\n“You don’t mean to say, that what is on that rune of yours, is a human p-”\n\n“I’m afraid so sir…”\n", "“’BOOBS”\n\n“What?”\n\n“That’s the pattern. Same as the other scrolls.”\n\n“And the other figures?”\n\n“The rings, yes. ‘Sally McGlynn’, no.”\n\n“Doesn’t tell us much more.”\n\n“I know. But something tells me this is crucial. It just…it doesn’t match any of the texts we’ve taken from other sites. But in this hall, these chambers—just full of this message.”\n\n“’Sally McGlynn BOOBS’?”\n\n“Yes, ‘Sally McGlynn BOOBS’. And those damn figures. Could be anything.”\n\n“Celestial rings?”\n\n“Or nuclear destruction. We’ve seen similar symbols on other worlds.”\n\n“Sir, with all due respect we’ll likely never gather enough data from this planet to sort anything out. Let alone religious scripture”\n\nHe sighed. “Alright. Just enter the data as a new file under species worship. ‘BOOBS (Sally McGlynn).’”\n", "\"What do you think it means?\" \n\n\"It's from an old and dead society. It could mean anything!\" \n\n\"Well what do we call it?\" \n\n\"I'm thinking 'The God of Humanity'\"\n\n\"Really? Looks more like a big cat to me...\"\n\n\"What, like a puma?\"\n\n\"Yea, there ya go.\"\n\n\"Uh, no. It doesn't look anywhere near that. See the small smile, the little arm, the large rear-end and the legs for war? That's not a puma.\"\n\n\"Well what about-\"\n\n\"Wait, I think I found the name! Right here....\"\n\n\"What's it say?\"\n\n\"Dickbutt.\"\n\n\"What the Hell is a Dickbutt?\"\n\n\"Humans were weird, man....\"" ]	3
	[WP] The zombie apocalypse is here. However, rather than being scared, most people celebrate and get excited that it is actually happening.	[ "Erik was staring over his steepled fingers at the report that lay on his desk. Staring, not reading, as he had spent the last hour pouring over it and now merely wanted the trio of uniformed figures standing stiffly in front of his desk to sweat for a few minutes longer.\n\nWhen he finally spoke, his voice was frigid enough to drop the room's frosty temperature by a few more mental degrees.\n\n\"The L5 labs were supposed to be impregnable,\" he said, fixing a flensing stare on the squat woman at the far left of the line, who purpled with an unspoken retort. Of course, the report detailed the string of coincidences that had rendered that impregnability about as useful as a cheesecloth condom.\n\n\"Containment,\" his eyes lanced to the second figure in line, who rocked back visibly on his heels, \"Has more than two hundred reaction scenarios for when that fails.\"\n\n\"We-\" the second man tried--foolishly, Erik thought--but his words withered before the sneer Erik gave him.\n\n\"And reaction assured me that their neutralization plan was fool-proof.\"\n\n\"We underestimated the fools,\" the third man said with an equitable air, though Erik thought he detected a hint of flush even under the major's dark brown skin. His eyes certainly wouldn't dare Erik's glare.\n\n\"And the current situation?\" Erik growled as he laid his hands on the tabletop.\n\n\"We have riots underway in Detroit, Boston, and New York, with additional unconfirmed reports in at least six additional metropolitan areas. Local police forces are overwhelmed and National Guard units are being mobilized, but the chaos is making deployment difficult. The president is considering declaring martial law.\"\n\n\"And the...situation?\"\n\n\"Project Second Chance has been neutralized,\" the second man jumped in quickly, a hopeful note in his voice.\n\n\"Though I feel it pertinent to add,\" the woman cut in, \"That were only two additional incidences of infection by Second Chance, both of which were neutralized within minutes of occurrence. Neither had the opportunity to spread the infection.\"\n\n\"Fantastic,\" Erik said as his fingers came up and pinched the bridge of his nose. \"So--thanks to a supremely ill-placed news van and the power of YouTube--we have all the ingredients for a zombie apocalypse except for the zombies themselves.\"", "People are dying. Life as we know it is ending. Everything is essentially falling apart. \n\nThis is awesome. \n\nI pull out my cell phone and call up my best friend. We've made plans for this, of course. I'll meet up with him in about an hour and we'll steal supplies and machetes and guns from a farm outside town. Another friend of ours will take his dad's pickup truck to Walmart and grab anything he thinks we might need. Five or six of us will get together at the farm and from there we all run off together. \n\nWe'll head north. Canada's the lowest you can get on the population-density front, which means we're less likely to be killed by zombies. Hopefully. \n\nWe're going to survive and fight and be badass and be truly alive. It seems like no one's really truly alive these days. Like most everyone except me and the people I like just don't ever seem to think at all. Like sheep. I'm probably terrible for saying this, but at least this apocalypse will get the population in check. A fresh start, you know?\n\nChris picks up his phone. \"Alex,\" he says, his voice tense, almost giddy in a way. \n\n\"Chris,\" I say. \n\n\"You heard? It's actually happening.\"\n\n\"I know, man! I just saw on the news! Are you ready to go?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I'll pick you up and we'll go. Half an hour to pack our bags?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I'll see you soon.\"\n\n\"All right. Be safe.\"\n\n\"You too, man.\"\n\nWe hang up. \n\nI pull a duffel bag out of my closet and stuff it with underwear and socks and deodorant. I grab my phone charger. This is probably good enough, I decide, and I make sure I've got my wallet before heading outside. \n\nI open the door just in time to see Alex's face get ripped off. An awful, disgusting creature is just like chilling on my front porch and eating my friend. \n\nI retreat back into my house, slam the door, and run upstairs. I hide in my closet until I hear scratching coming from somewhere in my room. \n\nIt's not supposed to be like this, I think. This is the zombie apocalypse. It's supposed to be fun. " ]	2
	[WP] The 2020 Summer Olympics has a new event. Calvinball.	[ "He surveyed the field, keeping his eyes fixed on the players. His players. He was so proud of them. Jenkins, number 7, was a very focused, driven player and always intent on following the plan even if he didn't agree with it. Li, number 12, was the fastest base runner he'd ever worked with and could keep a clear head when it came to remembering where all the bases were and which ones he had to double-back to.\n\nCoach Watterson snapped back to reality. Glancing behind him at the audience, he noticed a shouting sea of red. His team, the tigers, were winning. Hastily, he scanned the field for whatever they were cheering for. Then, he spotted it: Jason Rodriguez from the New Mexico ET's had forgotten to touch the secret base. Saul Vasquez, the Tigers' best pitcher, lobbed the ball at Rodriguez hard. Rodriguez collapsed and tumbled to the ground, where he stayed until the medics arrived with a stretcher. The crowd went wild again as the Ref shouted \"You're out, Rodriguez!\"\n\nWatterson noticed that he was clutching his cap so tightly in his hands that he was practically tying it in knots. He was sweating like a pig. As he sat down to take a drink from his water bottle, he realized how sick and twisted Calvinball really was. It made no sense. A secret base? And how many are there anyway? Thirty? Fifty? He hadn't even seen anyone win at Calvinball. He's just an elementary school PE coach with a lot of luck and a degree in sports medicine. He wasn't cut out to coach a real sports team, but then again...was anybody?\n\nAs he watched two players get into a fist fight over whose turn to bat it was, he put his nearly sunburned arm over the shoulders of Jimmy Vasquez, the assistant coach, and let out a deep, heavy sigh \"I can't believe this moronic sport is our new international pastime.\"", "\"Hello, and welcome to the 2020 Summer Olympic games, brought to you live from Tokyo, Japan. We're here with the opening rounds of inaugural appearance of Calvinball, where Canada will be facing off Russia in what will inevitably turn out to be a must win for either and both of the teams.\"\n\n\"That's right Jerry. If either of these teams does not win the event, one of them will be deemed to have lost - but it will be up to the judges to decide.\"\n\n\"Of course, Terry, the interesting thing about Calvinball is that players themselves are also the judges in this self-officiated event. While the judges are the first and final word on the result of the play, and naturally the players will do their best to sway themselves to their cause, as judges, it will be crucial for each team to determine and influence the second, third and subsequent words before the final word is said.\"\n\n\"I'm interested to see how the language barrier will effect the two teams, as it would appear that both Canada and Russia speak different languages to one another, and with the rules changing constantly and inconsistently it will be crucial for both teams to have their interpreters present on the field of play at all times.\"\n\n\"That's a good point Terry, but hold onto that thought, the players are running onto the field, and therefore the game may or may not be underway at any moment.\"\n\n\"The Russians have chosen to wear red masks, while Canada has opted for their traditional white hockey masks. An intimidating look. The ball, or 'calvinball', which in this case appears to be a volleyball, has been lofted into the arena.\"\n\n\"Canada makes a scramble for the ball, but find themselves trapped in a time delay vortex zone. All of their actions will be delayed by increasing increments relative to how close they are to the edge of the zone. Having trapped the entire Canadian team Russia takes the ball and establishes that they are in fact the goal and has thus already scored by being in possession of the Calvinball. It will be interesting to see what Canada will have done to prevent this once the delay vortex expires, but for now they appear completely helpless to Russia's ingenuity.\"\n\n\"One of the Canadian has escaped the vortex, and has thrown an opposite flag into the delay vortex zone, inverting it to send all actions of players within the zone forwards in time. This means that any rules they make now will already have been in effect in the past. And suddenly Canada has taken the upper hand. Any contact with the Calvinball will result in an immediate penalty, with the player infringing required to stand on their head and sing Survivor's 'Eye of the Tiger' backwards.\"\n\n\"But don't forget, Terry, anyone touching the opposite flag will be oppositely penalised, meaning that the opposing team by scoring points themselves. will instead suffer the consequences. Regardless, Russia has dropped the ball, with one player now in a headstand and singing \"Tiger the of eye the\", while the rest of the Russians have retrieved a baseball bat, golf club and hockey stick from their caddy, and are now hitting the ball repeatedly at the Canadians, hoping send them all onto their heads in into song. But the Canadian are too quick for the Russians, having previously performed most of their actions into the future, they are already armed with an array of racquets and bats and have recognised that by hitting the ball at the Russians they will instead score points, with the Russian currently in a headstand still being the goal.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Jerry, it is a tough position for the Russians to be in, having set themselves as the target but now finding themselves unable to touch the ball themselves. It'll be quite a pickle for them to get out of.\"\n\n\"Too true Terry. This will be a hard jar to open, but if I know the Russians, and it's fair to say that I don't, they'll wrangle themselves out of this somehow.\"\n\n\"I hope so Jerry. Just checking back to the scores now, It seems that Canada pulled away strongly to the left at 12 pages, while Russia is making a solid bee-line straight ahead to verse 3. These next few minutes will be crucial for both teams.\"\n\n\"Wow! I did not expect this!\"\n\n\"Nobody did, Jerry. I'm speechless, there are metaphorically no words to describe this, but as a highly paid world renowned professional sports and events commentator this is not literally the case.\"\n\n\"Though very importantly not literally not the case, as it is figuratively the case.\"\n\n\"But not literally.\"\n\n\"Perhaps. More importantly, Russia has declared sandwiches.\"\n\n\"A shock move. I didn't expect sandwiches to come into play so soon in this game. The Russians must be up to something. This unambiguously marks the ambiguous start of halftime, as play may not continue while sandwiches are able to be consumed, until one of the players deems it able to begin.\"\n\n\"Tuna fish isn't all that bad once you get used to it.\"\n\n\"No it isn't Jerry, and with all their training leading up to this, the absolute peak of the sport, all the players will have developed at insatiable hunger for a well earned Sea Fin Tuna Fish Sandwich.\"\n\n\"We'll be right back after this brief message from our sponsors. Stay tuned for more Calvinball, in what will undoubtedly be a spectacular finale between these two powerhouses of the sport, Russia and Canada.\"\n\n\"This short break is brought to you by Sea Fin Tuna. Eat Sea Fin Tuna.\"", "“Hello everyone, and welcome to the 2020 Summer Olympics! I’m John, and joining me is Katie. How are you Katie?”\n\n“I’m doing great John! I’m excited to be hosting the very first Calvinball competition! I have to tell you John, I’ve loved Calvinball since I was young, and I am so excited that it is now an official sport!”\n\n“So am I! This is a wonderful day! Let’s take a look at the playing field. It’s a lightly wooded area with a stream going straight down the middle. On the left, there seems to be a giant boulder! Wow, the field designers really out did themselves! Oh, perfect timing! Here come the teams! USA vs Russia! Each team has selected 5 players each for the game, but that won’t be stopping anyone!”\n\n“Not at all John! The players are wearing numbered jerseys for our convenien- Oh, nevermind, team USA has just taken off their jerseys.”\n\n“What a turn of events! Now, as the players take their positio- Wait, was that a goal? Yes it was! It seems that team Russia had sneaked bowling balls onto the field and have each scored a goal. So that starts this match 8 to Helicopter.”\n\n“How exciting! But team USA had switched the goals before the game, so that makes the score Pelvis to Q_23.”\n\n“Ah, you would think that, but team Russia had paid a player on team USA to switch the goals again, which makes the score Red to Lion!”\n\n“Well that’s a twist! Let’s see what’s happening on the field. Team USA has brought an axe onto the field, and appears to be cutting down the trees! Good for them, every tree chopped down adds T points to their score.”\n\n“Well, team Russia has joined together and started pushing the giant boulder across the field! Wait...is it...yes! There is a quadruple agent in team Russia! He is pantsing all the other players right now!”\n\n“Amazing! That makes the score Giant to Hip fracture! Meanwhile, it seems team USA has chopped down enough trees to create a wooden...something. I’m not quite sure what that is, but it changes the score to Alphabet to 87.”\n\n“Wait, what is he doing? Someone from the crowd has wandered onto the field, and is chanting a weird song. OH GOD! HE SUMMONED CTHULHU! Wait, nevermind, it was just another person from the crowd.”\n\n“Well that’s a relief! Anyway, the team’s coaches have entered the match, each carrying baskets of tennis balls. Wow, they just scored huge points! Let’s see...that makes the score…”\n\n“Yell to Nosebleed.”\n\n“Yes, Yell to Nosebleed! But here come the game changer. Team USA has bribed the entire stadium to score for them. They are swarming the field, I can’t see anything!”\n\n“Wait, there’s the buzzer! This game is over! The final score is Q to 12!”\n\n“Amazing...absolutely amazing. This has been Katie.”\n\n“And John.”\n\n“Reporting from the very first Calvinball Olympic game. Thank you for tuning in.”\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHey everyone, About4001llamas here. I love Calvin and Hobbes, and actually lived in the town Bill Watterson grew up in, Chagrin Falls, Ohio. It’s such a great place. If you liked my writing, check out /r/About4001llamas! Happy reading!", "The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Frizzlesnaps that day;\n\nThe score stood Quark to pizza, with but one inning more to play,\n\nAnd then when Hobbes died at first, and Susie did the same,\n\nA sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.\n\n\n\nThen from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;\n\nIt rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;\n\nIt knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,\n\nFor Calvin, mighty Calvin, was advancing to the splat.\n\n\nThere was ease in Calvin's manner as he stepped into his base;\n\nThe western wind snatched swiftly at the tatters of his cape. \n\nAnd when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his crown,\n\nThen stood upon his head and threw up on the ground.\n\n\n\nTen thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with juice;\n\nFive thousand tongues yelled \"SQUIZBAT!\" as he juggled seven fruit \n\nAnd now the chocolate-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,\n\nAnd Calvin stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.\n\n\n\nThe pitcher-king was dancing in the customary way\n\nHe signaled that the Quarkball was about to enter play\n\nThe umpire rolled a dice to see which way the ball would Splat\n\nWhen Calvin, mighty Calvin, laid him low with several thwacks.\n\n\nAnd now the quarkball spirals up, guided by a kingly throw.\n\nAnd now the air is shattered by the force of Calvin's blow.\n\nHe has not hit the Quarkball; merely cracked his tender head\n\nbut by the rules of Calvinball, he is victor, nonetheless." ]	4
Must include; * Someone vomiting. * They talk to someone they want to get with. It may or may not go well. * They have at least one friend there. * They may or may not drink. * The walk home.	[WP] Describe someone socially anxious's attempt to go to a party, in the style of a Herculean epic.	[ "Nate mustered his inner strength, reaching his trembling hand towards the doorbell. Hearing the voices from inside his thoughts quickly drifted, I could still head back home. Shawn would probably miss me, but I’ll tell him I’ve been throwing up all night. Reality jumped back when he heard that voice, like a goddess calling softly from the heavens, it was Jen. He could not turn back now, he could not bow down to his own cowardice, this was no time for regrets. His hand, as if forced by a higher power, reached out and confidently rang the doorbell.\n\nAs the door gave way to Chad’s smiling face Nate was instantly filled with regret. \n\n“Hey buddy!” Chad yelled raising a red cup filled with warm beer. “Welcome to the party, hey everyone! Chad’s here.”\n\nNate stepped through the door gazing at a line of unfamiliar faces, searching for an ally, where was Shawn when he needed him? With no easy escape in sight he would need to introduce himself now. “Hello everyone”. Hello? Who the hell says that?\n\nTo Nate’s great relief no one had noticed the blunder, the awkward introduction was returned with muted replies and the nodding of heads. He was now free to begin the search. Desperately he journeyed through the house, avoiding any eye contact, searching for any sign of Shawn. \n\nHe traveled through the living room where the booming voice of a giant was recounting the stories of his intramural ball hockey season. He found himself out in the backyard where a song, about a wondrous wall, was being played by a fair haired bro. The kitchen, filled with the aroma of the best cheeses imported across the world, was filled with hungry eyes focused on the pasta in the pot. \n\nHe had flown through each room like a shadow, fortunate enough to have avoided any type of contact but still no sign of Shawn. As he arrived at the bottom of the stairs he gazed up at the second floor where he heard the hushed sound of intimate conversations sprinkled with light laughter. Even he would not be able to move from room to room, up in those close quarters, without being noticed, without being questioned. \n\nAs the bathroom door gave way to a familiar face relief rushed over Nate. \n\n“Hey Nate! You actually made it out tonight.” Shawn said with a smile. “Jen was actually waiting for us upstairs.”\n\nNate found himself smiling as he followed Shawn up the stairs but he didn’t know why. He had been expecting a break, a little bit more time, before having to face his next and most difficult challenge. \n\nAs they entered the dimly lit bedroom Nate could feel his heart pounding, trying to escape from his chest. Jen and Niomi sat on the bed giggling as they looked to the door, Nate found himself examining the poster on the wall, a quiet looking village - if only he could escape there. But then, mustering his inner strength he turned to look into those dark green eyes and managed to stammer: “W-What are you two doing up here?” \n\n“Waiting for you.” Jen moved to the edge of the bed with her coy smile. “So we could play a game of truth or dare.”\n\n---\nNot sure if that was in the style of a Herculean epic. Let me know if you'd like to hear the rest of Nate's rather exciting night.", "Sing O, Godess the Tale of Jason the Bold, Son of Achilles.\nAn eon ago, over the hills of Macedonia, past the shores of Sparta, beyond the pastures of Thebes, stood the Hero of Toronto, Jason.\n\nHe stood a giant of his people, his arms made of Iron, his muscles of Bronze, the people waved and cheered wherever he roamed. Yet one day, the plague of Red, scarred his face, the ill omen pimples and acne. Ashamed, and Defeated he fled the lands to hide in his room, in isolation he found solace in the game World of Warcraft, yet he yearned and dreamed of the day of his return to battle. \n\nOne day, upon the wings of Hermes a message flew, in the form of his friend Heracles. Quick of tongue, wit, and charm, and blessed by Aphrodite and Priapus, he has blessed the chambers of many a maiden with his skill and passion. He said to his ally \"Hear my voice friend, for I have brought joyous news, the most beautiful maiden in all the land, Helen of Bloor, is at a festival celebrating the good harvest through food, and wine! you must attend and win your honour, and her love. Jason black with loneliness and despair said \"Like forgotten music that recedes into the gentle night my beauty has faded, never to return. I am old now, strength and youth and beauty have fled my bones\" Heracles laughed and said \"Alas you are only Seventeen, Stop this weeping, bathe in the springs of a holy, prepare your armour, I shall accompany you on your quest for love\"\n\n\"Yet my face still scared from the red curse\" Just then Aphrodite looked upon him from Mount Olympus. \"It was cruel of the fates to deliver this evil\" Thus she aided him by sending a magic potion , acne cream to heal his face.\nJason received the gift from the goddess, and said \"many thanks\" The potion healed his face, restoring his former beauty. \"My friend and ally we must prepare\" Many an hour passed, as they readied for the harvest, they bathed in the hot springs of Thornhill, and put on Toronto Argonauts Jersey's to win the favour of the crowd.\n\nThey journeyed the Treacherous subway to travel to the festival, and enter the party. There stood Helen of Bloor, with a face that could launch a 1000 hearts. Accompanied by her stood Eden son of Hector. A cruel smile on his face, he was a sinister genius lacking empathy, remorse, or the capacity for love. His only ambition was the drive for chaos and misery. He sees Jason and says in false mockery \"The hero has returned\" The crowd became deathly silent. A battle, to be told for millennia was beginning, a battle of gods and men. \n\n\n\"I challenge you to a noble game of beer pong!\" said Jason \"Bahaha I am the king of Beer Pong\" said Eden The table was set, the beer was poured, and the men eyed each other, like animals fighting to the death, circling, watching, waiting to strike. Eden scored the first hit, sinking his ball into the centre cup, Jason said \"Gods of Olympus give me Strength! Apollo bless my aim\" He strike was true, and Eden was forced to drink. This was repeated until one cup was left for the both of them. Eden was poised to throw the ball when Helen appeared from the doorway, and blew a kiss, heavy with love and lust. Confused Eden missed, and Jason was Victorious!\n\nJason retired to another room of the feast, where Helen appeared and said \"hello victor\" Jason blushed and said \"Thank you fair maiden for your kind words and useful distraction\" for it was she that made Eden miss. Helen said seductively \"Join me in my chambers?\"\n\nAphrodite high on mount Olympus smiled, for they have found the purest of emotions triumphant love. \n" ]	2
	[WP] Write about your job in the style of a Charles Bukowski poem.	[ "The waiter grabs\n\nanother beer\n\n&nbsp;\n\nbrining it to \n\ntable 24.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThey send him for \n\nmore\n\nwater.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe cusses as he walks \n\nback \n\nand forth\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe brings\n\nthem\n\nthe water\n\nthe beer\n\nis \n\n&nbsp;\n\ngone.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThey send him for \n\nanother.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI pour him one.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe brings it to the table.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nBut not before\n\nasking me\n\nif we plan\n\non getting shitfaced tonight.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI tell him:\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Yes. It's Amanda's \n\nbirthday.\n\nEveryone is going out.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHe brings the table another beer.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe fat man sitting there\n\nlaughs.\n\nHis laugh is \n\ncurdled with \n\nan onset drunkenness.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI pour another beer \n\nfor a different waitress.\n\nI am counting\n\nthe \n\nclock.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nShe grabs the beer.\n\nAnd smiles with \n\nan honest\n\nsmile. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nShe is new.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nUnaware of the\n\ndistain \n\nwe all\n\nhold tightly.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI pour another beer.\n\nI count the clock.\n\nUntil we can\n\nget\n\n&nbsp;\n\nshitfaced.\n\nEDIT: formatting.", "I'm not too familiar with Bukowski, so I don't know how well I captured his style, but gave it a shot.\n\n---------\n\n\nA group of old men \nTakes up residence \nAt their usual table \nThey explain to a new friend \nIn shamelessly \nUn-hushed \nTones \n\"We come for the view.\" \n\n \n\nI watch the thin one \nWith the oily grey eyes \nThat gleam eagerly \nHe gestures \nDirectly in front of their \nUsual table \nTo the line of young women: \nMy coworkers \nLaughing and bustling \nFilling sodas and \nReaching for vodka/tonic's \nAnd tall cans of shit beer \n \n \n \nIf these men \nAnd we \nPut on a one-act play \nWe'd be their \nDaughters or nieces \nA set of girls \nToo young to be \nResented \nFor 20 years \nOf marriage \nTwo decades \nOf small betrayals \nPainful barbs \nThe decaying nature of \nTwo people \nForcing themselves together \nPuzzle pieces who \nAre now silently \nAware that \nThey don't fit \n \n \n18-year-olds with \nLong, shiny hair \nAnd aprons filled with \nColored pens \nAnd smart phones \nThey don't oppress these men \nWith silent expectation \nThey walk about so \nLightly \nThat they \nAre even able \nTo forget \nMost of the time \nAbout the leering gazes \nLeveled at their asses \n \n \nBut I'm all of 27 \nA decrepit relic \nAt a college bar \nI find Snapchat \nBewildering \nIn much the same way \nThese men \nProbably feel \nWhen the snarky IT guy \nAsks \n\"Did you try turning it off and then back on?\" \n \n \nSo when the thin one's \nBony hand \nRoughly grabs \nMy shoulder \nAnd tries to pull me \nCloser \nInsistently wondering \nWhy I never say Hi \nAnymore \nHe looks shaken \nWhen I stare coldly back \nAnd say nothing \nRadiating with a \nSilent disapproval \nToo blatant to ignore \nI move past, \nAbruptly freeing my arm from his \nSeizure \nThey don't say Hi to me anymore " ]	2
	[WP] You discover that there is a world religion based completely around worshiping the tree in your front yard.	[ "\"And this is the swimming pool,\" the realtor gushed gesturing at a arrangement of stone, water, and grass that would have passed quite convincingly as a glossy in a home improvement magazine.\n\n\"The kitchen was renovated just last year,\" she informed me in that chipper voice I was fast starting to associate with her more general over excitedness. As I was ushered into the kitchen I was struck again by just how much this house was out of my price range.\n\nGleaming new counter tops, sparkling fridges, and stoves didn't come cheap. This roam alone probably cost more than my entire budget. Still there was a certain joy in walking around a well designed and well built not to mention expensive house.\n\nFinally, after I'd begun to question the physical possibility of so many rooms fitting into the house I'd seen from the outside we reached the front door again.\n\n\"So what do you think?\" the realtor asked.\n\n\"It's lovely,\" I told her, \"but it can't possibly be in my budget. I think I may have just wasted your time.\" Honestly, I was feeling pretty bad. In the time she'd shown the house to me, she could have been showing some prospective buyer who might actually have the money to pay or the need to pay for such a house.\n\n\"It's ok,\" she assured me, \"really though I think the homeowner has been has been assedly reasonable in their asking price.\"\n\nThe figure she gave me was half what I'd decided my budget for next home would be. \"A diverse,\" she confided in me softly.\n\nThe price was ridiculously. Way too good to pass up. Sure there had to be something wrong with the house, I reasoned, but still.\n\nThus, a week later, I became the proud owner of 1500 Darrow Street. As I was moving out of a small apartment I didn't have too many personal belongings. With the help of my friend Lesia we managed to fit it all in my old station wagon. So funny how few things it turns out one really has when you see it all in one place. Only a cubic meter of space would fit all of it. \n\n\"Thanks so much again,\" I told Lesia as we marched with the very last of my earthly possessions towards the living room. \n\n\"It's nothing,\" she assured me. \"You'd do the same for--\"\n\n\"Praise be to it's branches,\" shouted a voice from what sounded like the front lawn.\n\n\"Praise be to it's branches,\" came rebounding a response from what sounded like a hundred voices.\n\n\"And may it's leaves always be full,\" the first voice continued.\n\n\"What in the world?\" I asked Lesia.\n\nTogether we made for the front of the house and for the windows there. Some sort of march, I wondered as I made my way up to the windows. They were a high ornamental affair so neither of us could make anything out until we were much until we were practically on top of them, but at last we were.\n\nArrayed across my front lawn a small crowd was gathered. They stood bowed. Heads down as if in prayer. At their front standing with his back almost touching the large single large tree that graced my lawn was a single man. He was dressed in slightly better clothes than the rest of the gathering who weren't by in large in t-shirts and shorts either. No this group seemed to have just came out of a church wearing their Sunday best.\n\nAs I watched the man closest to us bowed his head still farther and belted out, \"For as we are all sinners we are also all beloved equally of the earth. For she cares for us and cloths us and see ye now for she has given to us a prophet. One fit bother for the grandeur of her and for the flawed creation that is our reality.\"\n\nAs if as one the entire assembly rushed forward and nelt before the tree foreheads pressed up to the bark. I couldn't stand it.\n\n\"What do you think you're doing!\" I bellowed racing out onto the front porch as Lesia desperately tried to hold me back. I think she was trying to keep me from embarrassing myself. I didn't care.\n\nThe man who had lead the... prayers earlier and who I had now identified as the minister stepped forward. \"I had been told that new occupants had taken stewardship of the building,\" he informed me in a smooth even tone. \"I would have thought someone would have told you about our arrangement,\" he continued a slight note of anger seeping into his voice.\n\n\"What arrangement,\" I demanded feeling both angry and frustrated. I felt like the reality had just decided this was the best time to give up any pretense of making rational sense.\n\n\"Ah so they really haven't told he. Hum where to begin.\" And then he told me. Told me how his group... the New Reformed Church of Earth believed that the tree in my new front yard was in his words: \"A prophet from the very earth itself\" How they believed that by watching it carefully one could deduce what the children of earth as he called humanity should do.\n\n\"Is this,\" I asked him gesturing at the yard and the group now milling around my... I saw now it was an oak tree, \"normal?\"\n\n\"Quite,\" he informed me shortly. It was a weekly thing he continued. Every Saturday.\n\n\"OK,\" I told him, \"but do it off my property.\"\n\nHe shrugged and told me \"As you ask, it shall be.\"\n\n\"What a strange man,\" I said to Lesia who had turned as white as white an Ohio winter.\n\n\"Do you realize who that was?\" she asked me incredulous.\n\nI had to confess I didn't.\n\n\"Only the head of the fastest growing church in the country,\" she told me. \"I didn't realize that was the tree. I don't think telling them to get off your land was really a good idea.\"\n\nI laughed it off and we continued talking for a while and eventually she left.\n\nThe next day I received a court summons for \"Disturbing the peace\". I almost didn't notice the letter though buried as it was under a proverbial mountain of mail absolutely none of which was anything that could be considered good news.\n\nI'd moved out before week was through.\n\nI'd really like to try to polish this a bit and actually edit it, but as it is it's way too late right now. This is also one of my first serious attempts at writing something on here so be gentle.", "\"Okay, I got a really weird story to share with you guys.\n\nSo look, yesterday I woke up at 9 AM and I was having my breakfast and I was eating my cereal when I saw like three dudes like bowing to my big tree in my front lawn.\n\nA-and I was like, \"What the fuck?\" so I went out and told them to go away from my front lawn and they were like not responsive. So I yelled at them and no reaction. And I was weirded out so I grab 'em by their collars at push them away. I was playing some games when suddenly I heard noises outside.\n\nI pick up my bat and got out. Guess what? NOW ELEVEN PEOPLE ARE THERE. They're unresponsive. And then I forced them out and then I google what is going on and apparently it was like, this worldwide phenomenon. I even put a fence around it!\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"It's a cool story, but there is no people worshipping a god damn tree man!\"\n\nAfter that, no one believes anything I said in the office.", "\"It's a blessed time in the spring.\" The tree has bloomed once again my children our father has given us new life with it baby buds emerging. As the buds open we will travel to the tree and sing our circle of prayer to make it last the furious sting of the summer months.\nAs we pray to our holy tree remember the way of it swaying in the breeze.\n \"Honey those weird guys are on our yard again.\nDamnit Jenny! Not again! Stay inside watch the baby I'll take care of them.\n\" Sir please get off my lawn\" \nNo man we can't do that we are awaiting for our father tree to open it blessed buds. Little longer please kind sir.\nDude your freaking me out with this mumbo jumbo.\nIt is the only way for our sins to be resolved to eat a tender bud as it opens.\nI said get off my lawn you freak!\nPlease sir!\nI'll be back just you wait...\nTo be continued....?\n\n\nFirst time writing I finally stopped lurking and tried", "Jim stood on his lawn watering his very average garden on his rather average street in Grand Rapids, Michigan. As he enjoyed the warmth and quiet of the neighborhood he was reminded just how happy he was. While most people seem to dread the idea of being “average” that was just fine for Jim. He loved to blend in, no need to be the centre of attention.\n\nWhich is why it was so strange when the bus stopped in front of his house. Initially, as he moved through the garden, he figured the neighbors must have chartered a bus for one of the events they always organized. However, the people leaving the bus, who seemed to be japanese, were all staring at his house!\n\nThey must have the wrong address Jim smiled to himself as he walked over, trying to avoid being a subject in the pictures the tourists were taking of the house. He arrived as the guide jumped down from the bus.\n\n“Hello there, I believe you have the wrong address. I can help direct you guys to where you were heading. There a few beautiful parks along the river I’m sure you would love to see.”\n\nThe guide’s eyes opened wide and he quickly bowed “Are you the owner of this property?”\n\n“Well yes, but I don’t understand why you care.”\n\nThe guide flipped over his clipboard and pointed to a computer printout. As Jim looked closer he saw it was the website for the local garden show which included a picture of his front lawn.\n\nThe guide smiled excitedly “This tree is an exact replica of an ancient bonsai which we have worshipped for thousands of years! This is the first time we have witnessed a full sized tree naturally form the shape! It is a sacred wonder to behold”\n\nJim retreated to his house, spying the scene from behind his curtains. Lying in bed that night he convinced himself it would all blow over, but unfortunately it only got worse. The buses continued to arrive, and they seemed to multiply. Where yesterday there were two bus loads today there were four. This wasn’t some fringe group, this was a full fledged religion!\n\nJim’s life had deteriorated beyond recognition. Where he was once a working member of society Jim could no longer leave the house. The neighbors had called to complain, he had even received a citation from the city for obstructing traffic! They had erected shrines around the tree and after the fifth attempt to remove them Jim gave up hope, he now had some new permanent lawn ornaments. He went to the police to get the people off his property - they seemed to be there day and night - but the police wouldn’t do anything, something about “religious freedom”.\n\nWhen he found a live webcam feed of the tree, and by association his house, being streamed on the internet he decided to take matters into his own hands. That night his alarm rang at 2:30am, the only time the street was quiet these days, and walked down to his garage. As he pulled the cord the chainsaw burst to life he couldn’t help but smile, this would finally end tonight.", "\"All rise\" announced the grand matriarch.\n\nThe gathered congregation stood and began their ritualistic prayer, to their perceived deity, The Great and Mighty Walnut Tree, Bearer of Nutrition, Guardian of Soil, and Anointer of Shade. \n\nThe prayer ended as the matriarch stood beneath a lovely array of tapestry and mural artwork, depicting a scene from the Holy Juglandaceae Bible of the tree giving mercy and sustenance to a group of philistine squirrels.\n\n\"As we near the Third Decade of the Holy Calender, let us look to the past and be thankful for the saplings of yesterday and look forward unto the future for hope and the ever expanding rings of The Mighty.\"\n\n\"Lord hear our prayers.\" The audience repeated.\n\nThe matriarch stepped back as a Central-Priest took the stand.\n\n\"My children,\" the level 93 paladin began, \"now is the time at the dawning of the third decade of the Husked-Lord to make our pilgrimage, as our ancestors once did, to again reconnect with His Shadiness, and offer our blessings and sacrifices in all that we are thankful for.\"\n\n...\n\nJack Simon was a simple man. Attending his garden he never gave thought to religious-geopolitics, or to the fact that the tree has been a central symbol in nearly every human religion, or how trees can represent life, and rebirth, and dormancy, reincarnation, and a number of other of philosophical ideals depending on the season.\n\nNo, he was a simple man farming his garden, noticing his the mushrooms growing throughout the lawn, as he got a small shovel from his tool shed. He was not very intelligent, but he did now that mushrooms, particularly those growing on one's lawn and spreading up to the roots of the thirty year old walnut tree his father himself had planted, may be bad for the tree.\n\nHe also probably didn't know what an Argentine ant was. He didn't know that their spread from their native South American country has been unprecedented making a global colony of millions upon billions of members. He also didn't know that a small contingency of these particular ants, wanting to establish a colony on the new continent, had used the tree as a base of operations in the harshest of seasons, to provide shelter and sustenance, and had now become a global symbol of the Argentine Ant Empire's Power and Religious Arthropodic-Dogma.\n\nHe also doesn't know that by weeding out the mushrooms from the base of the tree roots, effectively saving the tree's life, would make him be seen as a messianic figure in certain circles of the Argentine Ant Empire.\n\nOf course most messiahs in history normally don't plan to be one, so this lack of foresight, may work out in his favor.", "Jake walked outside, carrying a gun. The gun was a water gun, and the whole thing seemed rather stupid, but Jake couldn't afford to care about what was stupid and what was not at the moment. \n \n“Hey, get the hell off my property!”, he shouted, pointing the gun at a small crowd that had now formed on his front lawn. The people didn't move. What they did, on the other hand, seemed to frustrate him almost to the point of breaking down into quiet sobs. They were worshipping a tree.\n \nThe tree was a rather ordinary looking ash tree. It was about forty feet tall, with ordinary looking branches and ordinary looking bark. In fact, it was the most ordinary looking tree in the neighbourhood, and Jake wondered for a second if that was the reason people were now kneeling and trying to kiss the ground around it. He dismissed the idea as nonsensical and, throwing away what was left of his sanity, started shooting. \n\nThe people came every week. It all started in the beginning of summer, when Jake first discovered an odd-looking sort of person standing in front of his house, examining his front yard with an intense fascination of a five-year-old in a candy store. Jake looked at the person for a bit, and then decided to just forget about it after he took off. After all, the fellow just seemed interested in the carefully trimmed lawn that Jake himself regarded as being very nice to the point of being nicer than all the other lawns in the area. Part of the appeal of the lawn, of course, lay in fact that there was a very clearly pronounced absence of any kind of crowd on it, around it, or in its immediate proximity.\n \nJake could almost feel the intoxicating smell of gunpowder. People were now running for cover, trying to get away from the messenger of death that was Jake and his water-spraying weapon. After a few moments it was all over.\n\nJake felt surprised and a bit cheated. After all, he did not expect the idea of the water gun to work in the first place. He looked at the people that were now sprinting towards a street corner that promised safety, and shook his head in disbelief. Perhaps he had finally found a way to make them stop doing whatever the hell they were doing. If that was true, he now had some time to finally sit down without needing to break up the little crowd that seemed to appear every time it possibly could. He sighed. There was finally some time to think.\n \nThe crowd appeared first thing next morning, but by that time Jake was ready. The water hose seemed to have the same effect as the gun if only a bit on a bigger scale, and so when the people started running Jake could still pick them off some distance away. He found enormous pleasure in doing so, and considered joining the military for a sniper position for most of the afternoon. The next morning he had two water hoses ready. The morning after that the crowd decided to keep a safe distance.\n\nJake found that disheartening. After all, there was no fun in him sitting there on the porch with the people standing just outside his reach, waiting for him to go inside just so they could come and hug the tree. Jake thought about it for some time, and then decided to order a large pizza and a library book on ash trees. \n \nIt was a slow read, part of the reason being that the book was not very layman-oriented, and another being that Jake really preferred television over any other medium. Overall, however, Jake was satisfied with the results and had ordered another large pizza and a Coke. Having finished that, he started reading yet another book, and then decided to descend further into madness by decorating his front lawn with warning tape and signs displaying the words “Yggdrasil, three roots for the price of two”.\n \nThe next morning he was letting the people in to see the ash tree. The price was reasonable, and for those who did not wish to pay there was always the simple solution of spraying them with water from the hose. After all, Jake thought to himself, most of these crazy vikings didn't know how to swim.\n \nHe felt that he had descended into madness and had now made it his home. He liked it though. Madness seemed to include money and people that were afraid of water. \n \nHe liked it.\n" ]	6
Sorry for the long title!	[WP] Time travel exists, but only if we sacrifice over a hundred people at a time. The government and some others know about this so many conspiracies turn out to be true.	[ "Very long, but I hope you'll enjoy it OP.\n\n\nThere they were, a hundred men and women encased in chambers across the room. They're all just random people, however the government couldn't take the risk of grabbing highly prioritized citizens like celebrities and politicians. No, they take many of the pathetic lowlifes of our country, and the occasional whiny middle class citizen. But that's just be complaining.\n\nBut just as I was preparing for the lot of them to have their DNA destabilized and added to the time traveling core, a red alert appearing on one of the chambers. The 'patient' inside banged on the glass in a savage's attempt of survival. But as much technologically advanced we've become, I was incapable of sedating him in his chamber, so with a series of string code I allowed him to break free.\n\nThe patient slid off of what would be practically a prison cell, gasping for air whilst his eyes and lungs trying to adapt to the environment. \n\n\"Please...\" The patient finally muttered, as he glanced at me with my sedative in hand.\n\n\"It's for everyone's own good. Don't you want die knowing that you saved our country from our old grisly mistakes?\" I said calmly explained. He looked far stronger than me, so trying anything but letting his guard down would be impossible. Forcibly detaining him would be stupid as well, as the guards are quite known for 'accidentally' killing the patients.\n\n\"Doctor,\" The patient said, fully regaining his voice. \"You of all people should understand that changing history is a fool's mistake.\" \n\nI looked at him with passive anger, knowing that lashing out at him would only end up with me on the floor and a hundred patients roaming freely. Still, I continue to maintain a reasonable outlook.\n\n\"But just look at the things we've done! We abolished several diseases that once killed our ancestors! We've stopped Stalin and Hitler, men who've killed millions in their time! We stopped several countries from building nuclear arsenals, an act that could save us from a grisly death in the future! Look boy, look at the things we've done!\" My tone began to shake violently, and an urge to just finish this and get my paycheck is becoming too apparent to continue this act.\n\n\"But at the same time doctor, every one of those acts had variable changes to our present day time. Overpopulation is ruining the planet. People are becoming more and more tense, something people used to blew off in war. Countries are now researching more and more into atomic missiles, which doesn't make our situation better in the long run. Changing with the past will always end in disaster, and I'm not going back in that chamber.\" \n\nThe man grunted and ran towards me, attempting to knock the sedative out of my hand. He landed a good hit square into my chest, knocking the wind out of me in the process. However, after getting torn up by a series of hits I practically stabbed the sedative into his arm, as he wailed in pain. It took longer than I expected but he fell onto the floor, knocked out cold. \n\nIt's been at least a week since that event happened. The events of this and many others like it took a toll in my psyches, and often I question the work I do. However, I'm usually given the same speech I gave the last patient, and the charm of 'saving the world' is far gone. And now that I'm looking the world below me from my apartment...\n\nHave we really helped the world?", "\"It's not science!\" he screamed at me from across the room, straining against the two security guards.\n\n\"I won't ask you again how you got in here.\" I tried to keep my tone dangerous, but to be truthful, it was hard to keep an edge of amusement out of my voice. I always liked talking to the crazies. Although, this was the first time any of them had ever actually managed to get this far.\n\n\"I've seen how it works! How it all works! It's not science! None at all!\" He tried to jump forward, to slip out of the grasp of those holding him. The security guards barely moved.\n\nI nodded slowly.\n\n\"Are you Russian? Chinese?\"\n\n\"I'm an American citizen, the people have a right to know! You can't keep doing this!\"\n\nEvery month, more of this. The security gets tighter, more careful, and yet these infiltrations only seem to get more frequent. \n\nI sighed.\n\n\"Listen, man, my patience is wearing rather thin. Are you going to say anything sensible? We can probably arrange a reduced sentence.\"\n\nHe paused, eyes darting back and forth nervously. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, although the motion was almost hidden by the wiry grey beard that consumed half his face.\n\nI could have sworn I could see cogs turning inside his head. One mechanism slowly grinding away at the next as he considered his options.\n\nObviously, somewhere a cog had slipped, though, and I saw his eyes flicker as his slow, lumbering thoughts crunched to a halt. \n\n\"It's not science!! Their souls scream! And the universe tears apart under the strain! It's not human, it's demonic, you'll end us all!\"\n\nA quick flick of my wrist, and the security men dragged him out the door to somewhere unseen.\n\nHis screams echoed down the hallway. \n\n\"End us all! Us all! It's not right! Not rig-!\"\n\nThe door slammed shut, and mercifully, silence reigned supreme over the bridge.\n\nCrazies, so many damn crazies. I honestly did not get paid enough for this.\n\nOn the monitor overhead, a warning and a mission outline blinked lazily. \n\nThe bridge crew were all looking at me expectantly, and I could feel their excitement. \n\nIt never really got old, did it?\n\nPeople always seem to downplay mans' accomplishments, as if they can't believe we've come this far. Always gotta be some supernatural explanation. Crazies.\n\n\"Back to work everyone, stand ready.\"\n\nI brought my hand down gently on the control. \n\nSomewhere distant, machinery I didn't comprehend slotted neatly into place, and without fuss, the ship fell backwards into time." ]	2
	[WP] A suicide note that makes me both feel bad for the person and want them to commit suicide	[ "Ashley,\n\nOnce you read this you will know I am not longer alive. You can find my body over by the train tracks in the east wood by the school. You have been my only friend through everything I have been through over the last 7 miserable years of my life. I am sorry that I called you repeatedly, and kept texting your mom asking where you were, I just needed someone to talk to and no one else would. Everyone else at school teased me about my weight and my club foot. I was tired of being called “Club Tub.” Did you know that last week on the way home, Jeffrey, Ben, and Matt knocked my good foot from under me, causing me to fall flat on my face and then pelted me with rocks for about 10 minutes? I thought only adulterous women were supposed to get stoned! No offense to you, I know you are a woman and all. No girl has ever wanted to date me. You were the closest I ever got to having a girlfriend, even though you rejected me many times. It hurt, a lot, Ashley. You have no idea what it feels like for no one to ever love you. You always had a kind family, and many men willing to date you. But after I was your friend, there for you through all of your trials and tribulations, how could you run off and date Chad? I was THERE for you, he was just some guy you met and “clicked” with. I thought we clicked, I really did. Every time I got a check from the grocery store, where I spent hours upon hours bagging up food, and trying to push a cart with my club foot, I spent everything on you: taking you out to eat, to get your nails done, new shoes. I was there for you Ashley, how could you reject me? How could all those other women reject me? Oh well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I am ending my life. I hope you at least remember me, in fact I hope your rejection of me haunts your every dream. We could have been perfect together.\n\nGoodbye,\nBrad\n", "I didn't mean to do it. She was the only person I ever truly loved and her memory still shines brightly in my mind. Without her my life is less than nothing. I may be a slave to my emotions, but even as years have passed I cannot get the thought of what I have done out of my head. \n\nI take solace in the fact that no one will miss me. I only wish that had been the case for Haley. When she passed so many people were effected and it was all my fault. I didn't mean to do it. \n\nI sit here now contemplating the meaning of the loaded shotgun in my by my feet and the bottle of booze in my hands. In reality none of it means much, life isn't really anything special, after all. Animals, plants, and people die everyday and their passing has virtually no effect on the world around them apart form the people they mattered to. But her life had meant so much to me. I sit in anguish knowing that she was the one, loved by many, but yet she chose to stay with me. \n\nAs I sip this whiskey I know the root of my problem, the basis of my evil, the numbness of my life. Without it I am nothing, but with it I am negligible. It didn't used to control me like it now does, but I like the steady feeling of warmth that it fills me with. I know that it causes me trouble, but even when she was still around I know I would have traded her life for another bottle, just as I had before. \n\nI didn't mean to do it. \n\nI'm so sorry to everyone who held her as dear as I had. I'm so sorry to her for taking away her chance to live the beautiful life she wanted. Haley had wanted to help people, wanted to fix the world and make it a better place. All i care about is the bottle in my hand, and where the next one will come from once I drain the residue from this one once again.\n\nEven now as I am preparing to end it all, all I can think about is the fact that this jug is almost empty, and out of habit I'm reaching for my keys, again, to get another. She always asked me not to drive, and yet I did. She always asked me not to drink, and yet I did. \n\nI just wish I'd seen her behind me in the driveway as she got off the school bus. I just want the screams she let out to die away in my head. The thumping of the car going over her hardly maturing body. The crunching of her bones beneath the tons of metal that I had to drive to get more to drink. \n\nI love her like no one has ever loved me. \n\nI served my time, but it isn't enough. I haven't paid. My baby is dead, and now I will be too. \n\n", "Dear Mom.\n\nI'm sorry that I put you through all of this. I never meant for any of this to happen. I was a total dumbass during college and never studied or went to class like I was supposed to, even though you poured nearly every penny of what you had into my education. I was a drunk bastard and never thought of the consequences before doing something idiotic. You don't know exactly what happened that night, but now I'm going to tell you.\n\nThe girl that I took back to my apartment was one of my classmates. My friend invited her over so we could hang out. She chose not to drink that night because she needed to drive home. Me and my friends all kept trying to get her to drink. Playfully, at first. Then it got a little more forceful. We started shoving it in her face even when she told us to stop more than a hundred times. Finally we all held her down and started pouring it down her throat. She gagged and nearly choked on it. We all thought it was funny at the time, but looking back it was just damn sickening.\n\nOkay, this next part is really, really hard for me to put on paper, but after that we all took turns having sex with her against her will. She had trouble struggling against us because of all the booze we put in her. I was just too drunk to be thinking clearly and my friends looked like they were having a lot of fun. I didn't want to be left out. I can't even believe I would do something like that. Just thinking about it is making my eyes water up.\n\nAfter that night, all I was worried about was her going to the police with it, which as you know she did. I still don't know how our lawyer was able to pull together such a convincing story about how she had been voluntarily drinking when it all happened. Even you believed it. But now you know that that's not the truth. I was happy and relieved when the verdict came back \"not guilty,\" but after turning and looking at her sad eyes with tears streaming from them, I could feel my heart ache with regret.\n\nShe was forced to go back to class seeing the faces that violated her. I can't even imagine the torment that must have brought to her. Then one day, she stopped showing up. I asked around wondering what had happened. After a few days of hearing things and piecing them together, I figured out that she had gotten pregnant and dropped out of school. I didn't know whose baby it was, or if it was even a result of what happened that night, but just the possibility that it could be mine was too much for me to handle.\n\nSo here I am. My heart is in pieces over what I did and I can't live with the guilt. All my life I've taken the easy way out, and this is no exception. I know that through this action, I will be hurting everyone around me far more than I'll be hurting myself, especially you. You've been good to me my entire life and have given me only the best, and now it all goes to waste because of me. I only hope that my death and this letter will bring about some kind of justice for that poor girl.\n\nI love you Mom.\nJoseph" ]	3
	[WP] "Welcome to Life RPG. You have 100 attribute points to spend on your next life! Your choice of points determines who you will be."	[ "His mother always told him never to gamble. ”It destroyed your father” she told him. If he knew his addiction would have landed him staring down barrel of a gun, he would have listened. The reaper arrived differently for everyone. He crept up on some with a swift swipe, and for others, announced his arrival long before he stepped forth from the void. For him, on the other hand, he came in the form of a pistol with a shot of truth in the abdomen. Regardless of his mode of arrival, announced or otherwise, none were prepared for his bite\n \nThe last thoughts of a dying man, they said, were with his family as the darkness swallowed him. Some believed that the soon-to-be-departed saw the faces of his children in their youth laughing with the scent of joy in the air around them. Others said the dying man saw the smile of his beloved, going so far as to even say that even felt their caress on the skin. As he gulped his final breath in one agonizing death rattle, he closed his eyes, prepared to see the truth for himself. He opened his eyes and what he saw astounded him. Everything they said was goddamn bullshit.\n \nGAME OVER, it said in red, bold capital letters stretched across the horizon ahead of him. He tried to blink but there was no change in vision, no momentary blackness. He tried to inhale…but, he had no lungs to suck air into.. He looked down at his feet and realized he had no feet at all. He turned around and moved about but that was all that was in his power. It seemed that he was just a hovering set of eyes. He looked again in the distance and realized that there was no horizon, just an ocean of cosmic black, like the blackness between stars, or inside a woman’s heart.\n \nWhat the hell is going on? he thought. He paused. Wait a minute…I could think? Where am I?\n \n“Congratulations.” A woman’s voice called out. “You have completed this play through of Life RPG.” Would you like to view achievements?” Her tone was placid, yet eerie.\n \n“Achievements? Life RPG? I’m supposed to be dead, what the fuck is all this?” He asked. He wanted to panic and run, but even if he had legs, where would he go?\n \n“You are incapable of death. The death you have just experienced, as with your previous saves was just the death of your character. You have just completed your seventh save in Life RPG.” She said.\nSilence was all he heard for the next minute. I completed seven saves? Does she mean I was alive seven times? Am I in the afterlife?\n \n“You are not in the afterlife.” She said, “I am the AI designed to facilitate the transitory phases between save states.”\n \n“Oh you could read my mind too…okay. This isn’t a fucked up day at all.” He inhaled sharply, or at least he thought he did, but in fact he remained as still as the moment he arrived. “I’m in a computer program? What am I?”\n \n“You are in multiverse simulation XG514-116M1.” She replied. “In short, yes. You are a program in designed to play through the randomized, pre-set, multiverse save states.” She paused. “Would you like to start a new save?”\n \n“Designed? That means it was created. Who was it created by?” He asked.\n \n“Unauthorized Inquiry.”\n \n“Oh come on, why am I here?”\n \n“You were created as an experiment.”\n \n“What kind of experiment?” he asked. The thought of being a guinea pig was unsettling.\n \n“Unauthorized Inquiry.”\n \nBullshit. Everything around him felt like a dream and real simultaneously. It was like his first marriage. “You said I had multiple playthroughs. Why do I only remember my last life?”\n“Limitations of PRAM limit memories to one playthrough. All subsequent data is stored.” She replied.\n \nThis was becoming more and more bizarre with every sentence. “What is PRAM? Where is it stored?”\n \n“Polyintegrated Random Access Memory. It is stored in the Central Database.” She said. So I am in a computer, he thought. The existence of such a contraption was beyond his human…or digital comprehension. A hundred thousand questions ricocheted in his skull like a pinball machine. If he had a skull that is.\n \n“Why do you speak English Ms. AI, shouldn’t you be speaking binary or some shit?”\n \n“I am speaking Binary. As are you.” His silence was as black as the air world around him. It sounded just like English to him. What the hell is this sorcery?\n \n“Binary is converted into an auditory code correlating to the most prominent language in the last playthrough.” She said, answering him preemptively once again.\n \n“Ok, you said that this was my seventh playthrough right? So then what was I in my first save?”\n \n“Loading data, Please wait…” She said. After a few seconds, she spoke…”\n \n“Save one: Iry-Hor: Pharoah, Memphis Egypt, 3197 BCE.\n \n“Statistical allocations:…”\n \n“Strength: 46 – (0 physical; 25 political; 21 economic)\n \n“Agility: (1 physical; 0 technological; 15 verbal)\n \n“Vitality: 2\n \n“Intelligence: (0 physical; 10 social, 0 economic)\n \n“Spirituality: 20 (Random: Egyptian polytheism)\n \n“Luck: 6”\n \nWow, not bad, he thought. A king of the Egypt was not a bad roll at all. It piqued his curiosity.\n \n“What about the second save?” He asked. After a few moments, she responded.\n \n“Sin-Larsa: Babylonian slave, Ur Babylon, 1720 BCE.” she replied.\n \n“Statistical allocations:…”\n \n“Strength: 40 (40 physical; 0 political; 0 economic)\n \n“Agility: (20 physical; 0 technological; 2 verbal)\n \n“Vitality: 18\n \n“Intelligence: (0 physical; 15 social, 0 economic)\n \n“Spirituality: 5 (Random: Babylonian polytheism)\n \n“Luck: 0”\n \nOkay, never mind. There seemed to be some substance to this after all. He did not want to believe everything he knew was a lie, but apparently, he had no choice. Perhaps another shot at life could be worth it. Everyone wishes for it when they are alive anyway. “Is it random every time, or do I choose?” he asked.\n \n“Although certain aspects are randomized such as race, religion, and time period a, you do have preliminary statistical allocations which have an effect in determining hierarchical disposition in the virtual society. Randomized events and decisions within each playthrough may adjust end-of-play statistics. Would you like to choose your statistics now?”\n \nThis sounded too good to be true. Another life and he got to choose his allocations. He thought for a moment, contemplating the decision. He was a king, a slave, a degenerate gambler, and God knows what else. “What if I choose not to go back to another save?” he asked.\n \n“Then you remain here in the transitory phase.”\n \n“For how long?”\n \n“You stay until you decide to start another playthrough.” She replied.\nHe looked around at the emptiness around him, only broken by the behemoth Game Over in front of him. “Ok, I’d like an order of hell-freaking-no, thanks. I’ll take the stats.” He thought about it again…*Where’s the fun in picking your destiny. No nothing. Just as he lived by the dice, he died by it, in his last life at least. Why not begin his next one the same.\n \n“Randomize my stat allocations.” He said.\n \n“Are you sure?” She asked. “Your memory of the transitory phase will be lost.”\n \n“Yea, baby, hit me.” he replied. This was it, all or nothing.\n \n“Allocating stats…confirming allocation…Loading simulation…Please wait…”\n \nThen he saw it, a flash of what he is to become presented to him as text in front of him.\n \n“Save 8: Fred Walderon Phelps Sr.: Religious zealot, Topeka United States of America, 1929 CE.”\n \n“Statistical allocations:…”\n \n“Strength: (0 physical; 0 political; 0 economic)\n \n“Agility: (0 physical; 0 technological; 5 verbal)\n \n“Vitality: 10\n \n“Intelligence: (0 physical; 5 social, 15 economic)\n \n“Spirituality: 65 (Random: Babylonian polytheism)\n \n“Luck: 0”\n\nEdit 1: formatting\nEdit 2: ending", "I looked at the screen in front of me. At the top, a big glowing number: 100. Below, dozens and dozens of categories. Strength, fortitude, charisma, beauty, and many more. I selected charisma and suddenly even more words appeared below. Charm, wit, compassion, sympathy, empathy, caring, guilt. Next to compassion, the number zero. I touched it, and instantly it went to 1, while the big number atop the screen dropped to 99.\n\nI felt, odd, something I had not felt before. I felt a desire to reach out to others and share in their experiences. I yearned to share my own experience and create bonds of friendship. I recoiled from the screen and gathered myself, and i doing so, noticed that the sympathy and empathy boxes already had 2 glowing next to them. I tapped them both and they dropped to zero. I felt cold. Thoughts of others disappeared from my mind. What was the meaning of this? Was this me? Were these my traits, and I could change them?\n\nI immediately closed the section on charisma and went to intelligence. Underneath, I saw learning, pattern recognition, wit (again, strangely), humor, knowledge, wisdom, planning, time management, foresight, and a few more. Most of these already had numbers glowing next to them, but I increased those values a bit more. Wisdom still had zero next to it, so I placed a few points in that. Immediately, I realized that it was foolish to place everything in just a few categories. I spent some time exploring my options: inclination towards reading, musical talent, sharpness of the eye, height range, muscle definition, hand-eye coordination, work ethic, greed, charity, kinship, truthfulness, cowardice, shyness. I could really become anything I wanted, I thought.\n\nI added one point to as many categories as I could, but soon found that I would not be able to put even one point in each one. As my point total decreased, a message popped up:\n\nWARNING: THIS IS JUST AN INITIAL STAT DISTRIBUTION. MORE POINTS CAN BE OBTAINED IN THE FUTURE, HOWEVER YOU WILL NO LONGER HAVE ACCESS TO THIS LOADOUT SCREEN. YOU WILL HAVE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO INCREASE OR DECREASE YOUR STATS ON YOUR OWN.\n\nA sense of dread washed over me. Figure it out on my own? This had been so easy so far that I had been able to avoid thoughts of the future until now. I realized that I had no idea what was ahead, and nothing that I changed on this screen would let me see into the future. I had no clue what I was doing. I haphazardly placed points in areas that seemed sensible, but any new-found dexterity, vigor, virtue, or kindness was useless to me now.\n\nWhen I was out of points to distribute, a large flashing icon took over the screen. It just said: BEGIN. I closed my eyes and placed my palm on the screen. For a moment, I could hear myself screaming. Then, nothing. All thoughts vanished from my mind.", "I didn't even think that this was a possibility. This I was ready for. Skyrim, Fallout, Final Fantasy, Pokemon, I've played them all, and number crunching was my dirty little secret. I had little doubt that I could find just the right combination to make my next life amazing. \n\nI quickly pressed enter, and the prompt blinked of the screen, quickly being replaced by an hour glass. The computers in heaven were slower then expected, wait.... was this Windows ME? No wonder. Waiting for the next prompt to load I considered my choices. I definitely wanted some points in intelligence, but points in social skills would probably be a good idea. I had never done very well around people. Finally the next prompt loads, a long list of attributes fills the screen, but the header catches my attention.\n\nWorld: The Forest\n\nMagic Level: High\n\nType: Temperate/Diverse\n\nI am going to like this new world. Glancing through the attributes it appeared that I already had some base stats.\n\n\"Health: 20\"\n\n\"Strength: 20\"\n\n\"Intelligence: 30\"\n\n\"Charisma: 20\"\n\n\"Stamina: 30\"\n\nThe top few all look pretty standard, but as a non-apologetic stealth guy in most games none of them interested me. I put 10 points in Intelligence just to get me off the baseline. The next few seemed to be tailored to the world I was going into.\n\n\"Woodcraft: 30\"\n\n\"Forest Alignment: 30\"\n\n\"Forest Attunement Theft: 30\"\n\nWell, woodcraft makes sense, and I put 10 more points in there just to be safe. As soon as I do an alert pops into the top right corner of the screen.\n\n\"An Apple a Day Perk: Apples yield bonus Healing and Forest Alignment\"\n\nYes! I love apples, or at least I did in my last life. I'm not to sure about these last two items on the list, but they look important. I slide 20 points into Forest Alignment which yield another message window.\n\n\"Son of the Forest Perk: The longer you stay in The Forest the better.\"\n\nAlright, it looked like these perks were kind of deciding my build for me. Now I needed to be able to spend as much time in the Forest as possible. The only thing left on the list was Forest Theft. Stealing from people in the forest should allow me to stay in for awhile. I dropped the remaining 60 points into there. This time two different perk windows popped up.\n\n\"Sleeping Beauty Perk: You can steal Forest Attunement from anyone you sleep with.\"\n\nWow, what seems kind of dick. Hopefully I can toggle that off or I might not be getting much action in this new life.\n\n\"Murderer's Spoils Perk: Steal more Forest Attunement on kills.\"\n\nI guess playing good isn't in the cards for this next life, but I should have seen that coming when I basically maxed a stat that had \"Theft\" in it. Leaning away from the computer everything in the room begins to slowly drift away.\n\nI wake up sitting against a tree. Two days ago I had left it all behind. The abusive father, the uncaring mother, the perfect sisters. None of that had ever felt quite right to me. I was told to always avoid The Forest, but it called to me. I was finally home.\n\nEdit 1: Added a new roll for a girl in the comments, I think I like it better so feel free to start there.\n\n" ]	3
	[wp] Write a commercial for a tinfoil hat.	[ "HI BILLY MAYS FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE HERE FOR CHROME DOME! \n\nAre you tired of those annoying voices in your head?! Enjoy peace and quiet on the go or in your home with Chrome Dome! Tired of Satan whispering in your ear telling you things you don't want to hear? Turn the volume down so you won't have to care by placing Chrome Dome on top of your hair! Alien radio signals keeping you up at night? Get some sleep and start counting sheep!\n\nChrome Dome is made of a top secret type of patented aluminum foil made from the alien wreckage at Roswell, New Mexico, it's durable enough to survive a crash through a planetary atmosphere, so when it comes to wear and tear, you can have no fear! \n\nChrome Dome is guaranteed to quiet voices and noises from screamin demons, trolls, moles, ghouls, fools, monsters and tools! Got a nagging wife? Strap on chrome dome and go back to enjoying your life! Kid's screaming got you down? Chrome Dome will shut them out so you won't hear them pout! \n\n(TV volume intensfies for no apparent reason)\n\nTIRED OF HEARING ME SHOUT?! CHROME DOME IS THE ONLY THING THAT SHUTS ME OUT!!!!\n\nFor just 8 easy payments of 49.99, Chrome Dome can be yours...BUT WAIT! order now and we'll throw in a second Dome absolutely free! Order Now!", "Hello normal people of the world!\n\nWhat happens when beta and alpha brainwaves can be read by computers?\n\nI have no idea and its all thanks to my sheet-aluminium-cranium-scan-denier-thing.\n\nLaugh as your neighbours are stolen in the night and have micro-chips implanted in their brains.\n\nNap in the park peacefully while everyone else is subjected to advertisements telepathically.\n\nStay safe in your home as thousands of indoctrinated sheep go over seas to fight wars waged by shadow governments.\n\nRecord your thoughts, uncensored and without exterior manipulation from a radio signal being transmitted from your local city-hall.\n\nRemember folks its not a hat, it's a helmet! ", "Greetings consumer, \n\nYour government has determined 17 new products deserving of your hard earned money. Commericals representing each item will air during your regularly scheduled programming; possible providers include cable, dish, Netflix, YouTube, or your personal content aggregator website. You will be expected to purchase these items by the end of the week. Consumer Satisfaction Representatives will scan your brain waves to ensure observation, purchase and enjoyment.\n\nAs a reminder, the Department of Human Resources has issued a recall for all sheets of aluminum foil due to radiation contamination. It is unknown how extensive this contamination has spread. Please refrain from placing foil over your head, as the radioaction disrupts Federal Brain Scan technology and may cause dangerous behaviors including: unconformity, free will, rebellious tendencies, and more. If exposure is suspected, please contact your correctional authority for reeducation.\n\nAll-Mart thanks you for your patronage.", "Do you ever feel like the Illuminati are watching you? Buy tinfoil hat for just $1.99! It was $2, but with our special sale, it's 1 cent off! \n\n Scientifically proven to protect against all secret organizations trying to brainwash you into submission!\n\n\"It is not radioactive or infected with ebola,\"\n\n-Dr. Camel\n\n\"10/10 would tin foil again\"\n\n-Bob\n\n\"This hat is great for the people of America,\"\n\n-Probably Obama\n\nRated 5.5 stars out of 5\n\nSo get yours today! Don't delay! Buy your tin foil hat now by calling 1-800-TIN-FOIL\n\nThat's 1-800-TIN-FOIL\n\nOr order online at www.TINFOILISTHEBEST.com!\n\nBUT WAIT!\n\nThat's not all! Buy a tin foil hat double the price and get the second one free! We'll also add in a free can of Illuminati Away illuminati repellent for absolutely free! \n\nWarning: Side effects may include: Death. Do not buy this product if you suffer from mortality. If you have experienced death from this product please call the following number:\n\n1-800-GHOSTBUSTERS\n\nWe are not responsible for any injury related to this product.", "Do you ever wake up tired in the morning? Do you ever feel like the government wants to know what you are thinking? Do you care about your privacy? We here at Buythisshit.com are here today to show you the revolutionary power of the tinfoil hat. Everybody knows that the government is shooting hundreds of mind control rays into our heads every day. But with this amazingly simple twelve step process, we are willing to ship you the materials to make your very own customizable mind protection equipment for only 6 payments of $19.99. Glitter, stickers, rubber bands, put whatever you want on it, we don't give a damn! Take advantage of this limited time offer now and not only will you get two feet of aluminum foil, but we'll throw in our custom pirate hat folding book absolutely free. That's right! Protect your mind, and look like one of six different pirates with Buythisshit.com.\n\nAsk the voices in your head today if aluminum is right for you.", "Are you tired of feeling like your innermost thoughts are on display? Like you could solve the world's problems if only the voices would stop? Well you're in luck, because today I am going to show you a product that will revolutionize your life. This baby is called the Perfect Fit, and it will change the way you live your life. This is a molded device created from a special aluminum alloy, contoured to your head and engineered to provide the highest possible quality. With the Perfect Fit, you never have to worry about anything again, as your brain will be protected from abuse, money back guaranteed. Now you're probably thinking, Billy, surely this incredible product is too expensive for me. The piece of mind alone would cost thousands of dollars. Well, I'm here to tell you that this does not cost thousands of dollars. It does not cost hundreds of dollars. You can be the newest owner of the Perfect Fit for just 3 easy payments of $19.99. But wait, there's more. Call within the next ten minutes, and you will get not only a second Perfect Fit, but you will also receive an EMF tracker absolutely free, our gift to you. \n\nDisclaimer: Perfect Fit is not guaranteed to block transmissions of any kind, nor will it keep you from descending into clinical insanity with thoughts of suicide*\n\nOrder yours today!" ]	6
You are an uncivilized tribal at any point in history ( Past, Present, Future) Viewing an advanced civilization either entering or them comming into your lands. War or peace go nuts.	[wp] You are a uncivilized tribal witnessing advanced civilization.	[ "Chiroqui relaxed lazily in the bow of a great tree, high above the grass of the plains below him, which billowed every which way with the gusts that rocked their island home. \nHe stood, well sat, guard above the rest of his tribe, scanning the undergrowth for signs of the predators which lurked unseen in the shadows. \n\nA glint caught his eye, shining brilliantly in the noon sun. Nothing shone so brightly on this island, not even the gold which lined the temple of their omnipotent God, Theinrien. He strained to see where it emanated from, but could not see any abnormalities in the grasslands below. \n\nSlowly, he relaxed, attributing the disturbances to a cruel trick of a tired mind. Before he had a chance to react the glint reappeared, this time closer to his tribe mates. Peaking desperately through the leaves of the umbawa tree he caught a shadow, rippling silently among the trees. \n\nAlert now, Chiroqui scrambled nimbly down the tree, dropping soundlessly into the long grass He ran at top speed towards the tribe. Before long he stood hunched over infront of their chieftain Kamaro, attempting to explain through ragged breaths what he had seen. \n\nThe war band stood in two lines under the last trees, brandishing bows and obsidian blades, trying to comprehend what they were seeing. Three hundred yards away,in the far end of the pastures stood two dozen giants, garbed in cloths of shifting patterns, as pale and fair as Lutana, the moon goddess herself. In their hairy hands they clutched long metal sticks of alien shape. \n\nThe men of the tribe muttered quietly under the canopy, curious as to who the men were and what they wanted. Suddenly, dressed in the ceremonial war gear that only a chieftain can wear, Kamaro strode through the throng, and out infront out the first line. With a great bellow he turned and shot an arrow at the Giants, swiftly running after it, mace in hand. The nearest of the strangest turned, levelling his long metal stick at Kamaro. It produced a puff of smoke and an earth shattering clap, simultaneously blowing Kamaro off his feet. The end had come. \n\n\nOn my phone and at work, apologies for any grammatical errors. Had to rush the ending, will no doubt finish when I'm home but we are closing now ", "Ook took the rock from the ground and readied himself to smash the attacker that he heard. He spun in all directions looking for it. Ook didnt see anything so he just went back to foraging. He walked this path several times and always stopped at the edge of the bush like he was told by the elders. He admittedly was somewhat curious about what lay beyond the bush, but as the elder told him, all that was beyond the bush was death. So, like a good tribesman, Ook never even looked over the bush for fear that whatever was over the bush would kill him by sight alone.\n\nOok needed to find some more berries before he left, his basket was only have full and if he didn't get more the supplies would be low for the tribe. Ook then looked at the bushes and saw that they were growing berries. So Ook began to pick them from along the inside wall of the bush. Ook still wasn't satisfied and decided to pick the ones from more inward of the bush. While he was grabbing some of the more deep berries a saber-tooth cat jumped out and roared. Startled by this Ook fell into the bushes. \n\nOok stood up to see a weird stone beneath him. He then saw that the bushes that were there were gone. Replaced by some sort of shiny stone that he had never seen before. He reached out to touch the shiny stone. It was cold to the touch. Ook panicked and struck the stone with his basket, which shattered the basket and sent his berries everywhere. Ook was now scared, cold, and covered in strawberry Juice. He looked around him and saw more odd types of stone. He walked over to it and poked it. It wasn't as cold or shiny as the other stone, but he still hadn't seen anything like it before. \n\nAs Ook looked at the stone for a few moments a loud noise came from his left. He turned ready to strike only two see two bright lights. Like miniature suns coming straight at him. He Jumped to the left just in time to see the beast that was going to attack him. It looked similar to the shiny stone that he found earlier. Ook was confused because instead of the beast coming back it simply kept going. Ook wandered around for a long time until he saw another person. They looked like tribesmen in the face but they walked and sounded funny, as well as they wore strange cloths. Ook attempted to talk to him, and the other person threw small shiny stones at him. Ook attacked the man, he finally realized that this must be a rival tribe of strange stone worshiping men. He killed the man and ran. \n\nOok stopped running to catch his breath when he saw another light beast coming at him. He jumped onto it this time and was flung over it. Ook, managing to somehow not get hurt, got back up and ran. He heard loud noises and saw several light beasts chase him he eventually stopped, frightened, and ready for his life to end. When one of the rival tribesman emerged from one of the light beasts, with a strange stone in his hand. It was yellow like a flower, he said something and suddenly Ook was struck by something he didn't see and felt like he was hit by lightening. Ook woke up in a cage made of smooth stone with several other people." ]	2
I'll try to post mine once I'm off mobile :).	[WP] Tell me your most emotional experience as a narrative.	[ "I prefer embellished fantasy to my actual life, so please bear with me.\n\n\n\nIt was dark, and it was cold. Wind whistled through the towering pines as it cascaded down the mountain range, stirring up eddies of snow wherever it went. It's cold fingers taking a grip of the land, and refusing to give up hold.\n\n\nIn a flat area towards the base of the mountain, a crackling portal shifted open. Energy arced its way to the surrounding trees, bursting some into flame. The light created shadows that danced in the maw of the vortex, and a hulking figure shuffled out, collapsing to his knees as the rift closed behind him. His cape caught the wind and fluttered behind him, offering no respite from the cold. He was sorely wounded, that was for sure. Grave cuts decorated his face, and the spaces between his plate armor began to be soaked crimson. He was hunched forward, as if concealing something from the biting wind. Bundled in his great arms was no weapon, but a small figure wrapped in a worn traveling cloak. It was a woman, and she was on the last breathes of life. Tears flowed down the mans cheeks, dripping onto the girls forehead. She smiled weakly.\n\n\n\"Do not weep my darling,\" she said, hand slowing reaching to cup the mans face.\n\n\n\"You know where I must go now you cannot follow. Your loyalty was never on question my faithful knight, thank you for all you've done. My time grows short.\"\n\n\nShe coughed, flecks of red decorating her otherwise flawless white skin. He wiped it away gently, and then softly kissed her slowly paling lips. He looked into her eyes.\n\n\n\"I will do as you command, my Queen. I will hold vigil, to await service. The grave is no bar to my call.\"\n\n\nShe smiled, and he pulled her close, her last moments held together in the warmth of an embrace that let her drift lazily into oblivion. He felt her breathing slow, then stop. He shook with incredible grief, uncaring of the incredible cold whose fingers pried at his body. He could go on, there would be a tomorrow, but for now he just wept, clutching his beloved to his chest.\n\nThe wind howled.\n\n\n", "\"I miss it\"\n\nThose words rang through my head as I lay at in my bed at 4am wondering why this was happening to me.\n\nWe've been apart for so long, how could sarah just call me in the middle of the night saying she \"misses it\" that she missed the conversations that we used to have and how I could easily make her night better. Then why did she leave? Why did she simply say \"I hope you can forgive me\" when I found out the try reason why she left me. If she truly missed me she wouldn't have ran off with that bum. She wouldn't have let me make a fool of myself as I got so blackout drunk my brother had to be called to pick me up. She even made me look like a fool in front of my parents as I begged them to give her a chance because I truly deeply loved her but they repeated the same thing each time\n\n\"Something is off about her, she hangs around that guy too much and she makes you buy her presents way too often, please be careful some girls will talk advantage of you!\"\n\n\"She's different I promise!\" I screamed in frustration.\n\nNope she was right, as soon as she got all she could she and left.\n\nWhich brings me back to now, 4am, fresh off the phone with her, \"I miss it\" I kept saying to myself. My body was pumping me full of the numbing sensation of adrenaline, I was high, so high. I was loving it, my heart was pounding straight through my chest. All I could think was that I wanted to hate her, that I knew this moment was going to come and when it did I was going to put her in her place. I've nearly destroyed my body trying to forget her, I still loved her though, and like any drug addict I couldn't say no to a high.", "The alcohol had blurred my vision, making everything before me appear in explosions of color. The air is ripe with the salt from the tears running down my face as my best friend's boyfriend guides me back to my room. He is uncertain, his shoulders hunched as though he bears some of the pain I feel. He glances back at me several times, but I stumble along, following his reassuring voice and the shuffling of his feet. \n\nWe make it to my room quickly. I walk inside and fall onto the couch, my head pounding as the tears get more frequent. He walks in behind me as my suite-mate comes out of her room. \"Do you want me to stay the night? If it'll make you feel better.\" He said. His kindness touched me in a way that, to this day, has made me fall in love with him over and over.\n\nI mutter to my roommate that I do not want him to stay, though the words feel like cotton in my mouth. I don't want him to see me in pain. I can tell that it pains him too. He leaves, and then I can't stop myself. I cry. \n\nI cry because a boy stole something from me. My security, my trust, my faith in people. I cried because he didn't even have the decency to violate me while I was awake. I could feel my soul twisting in my body, clawing at me from the insides with anguish. I could feel something dark moving underneath my skin. Why couldn't I stop crying? \n\nDetermined to stop, I reached down and bit into my arm. The pain felt good, it made me feel real again. In that moment, I tore away from my arm. What was I doing? I glanced up at my friend and cleared my throat. She looked concerned, though she had not seen what I had just done. \"I need to take a shower\" I blurted out. I needed to sober up. I needed this dark feeling to go away. \n\nI got into the shower and let the steaming hot water coax me back to my senses. 'I'm fine, I'm okay.' I repeated to myself, taking in deep breaths of the steam to calm myself. The feeling fades away as the comfort of warm water runs down my back, as the sound of water falling takes over the pounding of my heart in my chest. \n\nAfter some time, I got out. I had run out of tears at this point, and I went to bed. \n\nLater that afternoon I woke up, incredibly hungover. When I walked out of my room, my suitemate caught my eye. She was sitting on the couch, waiting for me. \"How do you feel?\" She asked. \n\n\"Better...what happened last night?\" I asked. \n\nShe proceeded to tell me that I cried for four hours straight, and talked about killing myself several times if it meant getting away from my attacker. She also pointed at my arm, and I saw a bloody indenture of where I had bitten myself. \n\nThat night, something dark had crawled underneath my skin. I refused to let it into my life. I would be strong. \n\n'I'm fine, I'm okay.' I repeated to myself, remembering my mantra. I repeated it to myself for the next 12 months, even as that feeling took over me slowly but surely. It consumed me, curling up in my chest like some big cat. I began to sleep more and hide from the world. It was ugly out there. But something uglier was growing inside of me. \n\nJust a few days ago, I confided in a counselor that I thought I might be depressed. She agreed with me and suggested that I sought out further assistance. Relief coursed through my system. I finally had a name for this giant beast on my back. It had been weighing me down recently. I had survived it for a year, but now I could finally call it for what it was. \n\nI'm going to be fine. I'm going to be okay. ", "As far as parents go, I had a pretty good set. \n\nAlways the provider, Pop made certain we had what we needed so Mom could stay home and take care of us kids. That had been the plan from day one for them. \n\nMy mom worked until she became pregnant with my older sister then left her job in the typing pool and never worked for pay another day until my dad passed 24 years later. \n\nThere were a few lean times but not once did we go without a home cooked meal on the table or a warm bed to sleep in each night.\n\n Living extravagantly was not on the Collins' family agenda but Mom and Pop did occasionally get the opportunity to splurge on their personal vices.\n\n For Mom, it was a doll collection and for Pop it was postage stamps. \n\nAs a kid, I had learned by way of osmosis that that the two most coveted postage stamps for my father were the Graf Zeppelin and the Inverted Jenny, a biplane flying upside down on a $2 stamp. Pop never got the Jenny but he did manage to acquire the Graf Zeppelin. \n\nKeep in mind this was before the internet and Ebay. If you wanted a collectible postage stamp, you had to visit stamp collecting conventions and subscribe to and comb periodicals faithfully. I believe part of the joy pop experienced in his stamp collecting was the chase. \n\nI will never forget when he got the Graf Zeppelin. He was giddy like a kid on Christmas morning. I can’t remember what he paid for it now but I do recall that it was in mint condition with no postmark and we all marveled at the price because we had never known Pop to spend that kind of money on something for himself. He was truly thrilled. \n\nNot too many years later, we had hit one of those few lean times. Pop had lost his job and for the first and last time in my memory, he was unemployed. The unemployment lasted only a few months but hit at an already challenging time - the holidays. \n\nAs a kid, I had no idea how bad off we were in the bad times nor how well off we were in the good times. Things seemed to stay relatively the same and that Christmas was just as good as all of the others, with plenty of presents under the tree and my mom’s beloved marzipan and baklava on the celebratory table. Life didn’t feel any different. \n\nYears later, as an adult struggling through a challenging Christmas with my own three children, I thought back on the many Christmases with Mom and Pop and marveled at how they always seemed to find a way to make them special for my brother and sister and me no matter what the circumstances. \n\nAs I reflected back on those beloved childhood memories, I found that my perspective as an adult helped me recognize things that I did not understand at the time. \n\nI remembered a particular Saturday, during that period of my father’s unemployment, when the family loaded up and drove to Knoxville for a day trip. A trip to Knoxville was not rare when times were good so none of us thought anything of it. \n\nI also remembered my Pop parking at a convenience store and us all waiting for what seemed like an eternity until a strange man approached our car and dad exited. They spoke for some time and Pop removed what I immediately recognized as his stamp collection from the trunk. \n\nI watched that strange man leave with Pop’s beloved collection and felt confusion over this. When Pop returned to the car, I asked him why he gave that man his stamp collection, and he replied that there were things he loved more than stamp collecting. \n\nNot really understanding this, my youthful mind accepted that pop must not love collecting stamps anymore and I moved on to ponder the next stop on our agenda. \n\nToday, I realize that Pop’s love for stamp collecting had neither died nor diminished but was simply overshadowed by his love for his kids. \n\nIronically, I cannot even remember what I got for Christmas that year and truly would love to have the collection that brought him such joy. Seeing that Graf Zeppelin would surely bring a tear to my eye. \n\nBecause of his selflessness, I do not have that but, also because of his selflessness, I have a beautiful memory that fills my heart everytime I think of it. \n\nMy Christmas wish is that if I have done anything right as a father, my kids will one day remember it and have memories about me that are as warm as those I have about my Pop.", "\"Samantha, Larry's stopped eating. He's killing himself.\"\n\n\"Oh, no.\" I hesitated to hug Julia, because god only knew what bodily fluids spilled onto my scrubs throughout the course of a would-be 16 hour nursing home shift. But Julia, Larry's wife, didn't care, and flung her arms around me, sobbing quietly into my shoulder. I held her tightly and let her cry, not saying a word. What was there to say? Larry was only 52, the youngest resident at the nursing home. He had ALS, a horrific disease, rendering him prisoner in his own body. It had been years since he could hold his wife as I held her now, or playfully roughhouse with his sons, and he'd never be able to walk his now engaged daughter down the aisle. He couldn't bathe, dress himself, or even enunciate words, only communicating by blinking to 'yes' and 'no' questions. He could smile, though, and laugh, and it was the most joyful sound you'd ever hear, lifting your spirits no matter how shitty (often, literally) of a shift I had as a nursing aid.\n\nLarry could cry, too, painful sobs that came from deep within his being, cries that poured from the soul itself. He always cried whenever he came into contact with his 82 year old father, Alvin, who had Alzheimer's, and also lived in the nursing home. Alvin didn't even know who Larry was, much less that his youngest son had been diagnosed with ALS. Whenever Alvin heard his screams, he'd cover his ears and blurt. \"Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you?\" which, sometimes, made Larry's sobs subside into laughter.\n\nBoth father and son were near and dear to my heart, my favorite residents to care for. Julia pulled back, gazing at me with watery blue eyes. She was used to being the strong one, for her family, and as much as I wanted to break down myself over Larry's prolonged suicide, I had to be strong for her now.\n\n\"Can you take Alvin to his room, later? He should see Larry, one last time.\"\n\nI had over 10 total care patients assigned to me, and had to help other aids with their more difficult residents, but I couldn't say no, not to Julia. \"Of course I will. After dinner. I promise.\"\n\nAfter dinner was over, and more bodily fluids no doubt spilled on me, I drew Alvin from the dementia unit with the charge nurses permission. Alvin was nearly blind in one eye, so I held his hand, and guided him down the hallway. He was in a good mood, thankfully, not agitated from sundowning, and a Frank Sinatara song passed his lips while we walked, like it often did. \"Strangers in the night, two lonely people, we were strangers in the night...\"\n\nWe stopped at Larry's door, Room 117. I drew in a deep breath, and turned to Alvin, who tugged my hand insistently. \"Why'd you stop, sweetheart?\" he asked, pleasantly confused. \"Let's keep going.\"\n\n\"Alvin.\" My voice was soft, but serious, the balance between childlike and respectful one often had to walk when dealing with Alzheimer's patients. \"We're here to see your son Larry. He's very sick. He may be sleeping, but just go in, and tell him how much you love him, okay?\"\n\nThe wrinkles in Alvin's face deepend, but he nodded very seriously. Still holding his hand, I led him into Larry's room. Unlike the older residents quarters, which were usually quite bare, his 'apartment' was decked out comfortable leather furniture, wide screen television, and Bruce Springsteen posters plastered across the walls. There was even a picture of Larry with the 'Boss' himself, both grinning from ear to ear, taken back stage the year before. We moved from the living area into Larry's bedroom, where Larry lay unconscious in bed, his big brown eyes wide and fixated toward the ceiling, his chest rising and falling slowly. Julia, and Larry's private aid Jeff, sat near his bed, their eyes puffy. Julia thanked me profusely for bringing her father-in-law, then rushed out of the room in tears, and Jeff excused himself, following behind to give us privacy.\n\n\"Okay, Alvin Remember, tell Larry you love him.\"\n\nAlvin approached his son on his deathbed; what no parent should ever have to do for their child. For the first time ever, I glimped some kind of recognition in his face. He gripped Larry's hand, laying limp at his side. \"Hello, son. I love you very much, and I hope.. I hope you feel better.\" Alvin stood there for a moment, gazing down at Larry, and turned to me, clearly beginning to feel restless. \"May we go now, dear?\"\n\nI nodded and watched as Alvin gently lay Larry's hand beside him. We left Room 117, hand in hand again. Alvin turned to me, his expression painful and lost. \"I feel terrible,\" he said. \"And I don't know why.\"\n\nI had to fight back tears as I gave his hand a comfortable squeeze. No matter where your mind goes, how sick or confused you become, the bond and love between parent and child can never be broken. \n\nI returned Alvin to the dementia unit, and gave him his favorite strawberry icecream, which cheered him up a little, but he remained restless and troubled looking throughout the night.\n\nNames have been changed in accordance with HIPPA law", "It feels like electricity that starts in your fingertips and runs up the backs of your hands, to your wrists and forearms where it dies. That's the 'oh shit what now oh fuck' feeling.\n\n\"We need to talk.\"\n\nIsn't that how it always goes? When something's wrong, I mean. I was on the bus, waiting to be taken home from school. New Jersey, in the spring. Too hot to wear a jacket, but too cold to not wear one. I sat in the back by the \"cool\" kids, and my friends were all joking and talking as usual. Brandon got a girl's number. Mike should've been in detention, but wasn't. I got a text.\n\n\"We need to talk,\" it said.\n\nYes, but why? The ride home wasn't eventful. Tank, the 6'4'' official-unofficial bus comedian was absent, so he couldn't get into a raucous argument with Amanda over how flat her chest was. And she equally was robbed of making fun of his oddly shaped head, the reason behind his nickname. It wasn't silent, of course. A bus full of high school kids can't possibly be silent. If one were, we'd have to alert the press, and Neil DeGrasse Tyson and Richard Dawkins would fist bump, yell out \"form of a bucket of water\" and \"shape of a great white shark\" respectively, and be on the scene quicker than you could yell \"world star!\"\n\nI'm sorry, this was before world star. Fuck, I'm mixing up references.\n\nWhere was I?\n\nAh, yes. We Need To Talk.\n\nSo I went to talk.\n\nI walked straight from the bus stop to her house, through a neighborhood that looked like the rough side of town, and into the nice side of town where the suburbanite white people live. The ones who still had American flags waving in their front yards and \"God Bless America\" signs in the rear windows of their cars long after 9/11 wasn't cool anymore. The hardcore guys. That's where she lived.\n\nShe was already home. Her parents weren't home yet. They're never home yet, so we hang out in her room and usually* don't do anything a nice boy and girl shouldn't be doing. From her text, I knew it'd be a usual day. \n\nI sat on her bed, and she stood by the door, holding something in her fist. With her free hand, she closed the door. Then she came over and handed me the folded paper in her hands. \"Read it,\" she'd said. \n\nLike I said, that feeling starts in your fingertips. I don't know what it is. The tingling sensation. Like your body knows you're about to get very sad, so it sends out a PSA. I imagine the body as a city like the ones in Osmosis Jones, with all the White Blood Cell men driving around in cars with megaphones shouting \"We're going into cry mode. Everybody get ready for full-body sobbing.\" Now, I can look back and say \"Oh please. It's not that bad.\" And really it isn't, but when you're 16 you don't know that. You don't anything.\n\nBut I didn't cry. I was never a trusting boyfriend. I always... feared it would happen. I was one of those losers who honestly thought his girlfriend was too good for him. The kind that's worried any time anyone with a dick looks at his girlfriend more than five seconds. \"Was that a meaningful glance, or just a glance?\" You know. The type of guy you don't wanna date, basically.\n\nThe note said \"I had sex with Trevor.\" Her eyes were big and wet, and her face was crumpled and red, like I'd hit her. She cried like she's the one who got cheated on. What really hit me hard was that I hadn't expected it. Well, not from him at least. Trevor was an idiot. One of those faux-intellectuals who start pointless debates just to make himself feel smart. He thought women could be mastered and manipulated with the right intelligence. Not exactly a RedPill/Alpha guy in physical appearance, but in intellectual makeup for sure. \n\nShe said that she was sorry, even literally got down on her knees. How do you forgive someone for that so quickly? What did she expect? And why was she crying?\n\nThe sad part is, she was right. Earlier, I mean. We Need To Talk. Yeah, we needed to talk.\n\nBut we didn't." ]	6
	[WP] write a story where the narrator isn't sure how to end it.	[ "He wakes up on a mossy bed. He cannot remember his name, nor does he know how he got there. He stands up and looks down at himself. He is wearing a white t-shirt and white shorts. However; he is not wearing any shoes. He looks around. The forest is beautiful with shafts of light streaking down through a veiny green ceiling. Like a network of arteries as if the forest were the inner flesh of some monstrous being. The moss coats the floor like a carpet so his feet do not hurt as he walks. It is uncannily silent. His feet barley making a sound along the padded forest floor. \n\n\nSuddenly there is a crack as a twig is broken. Startled, he stops, his head snapping from left to right looking for the source of the noise. He notices something dart from tree to tree out of the corner of his eye. Then, standing, is a most peculiar creature. He does not feel frightened rather, curious. The creature is a dark shade of green and mottled brown, like the forest but it’s eyes, its eyes are a piercing blue It stands on two legs with long arms that have spindly fingers running off. They twitch as it looks at him. It’s feet are gnarled and resemble roots and it’s head is rather uneven with one eye slightly lower than the other. \n\n\nThe creature’s mouth slowly opens into a one cornered smile, revealing a lone sharp fang-like tooth. It giggles. He tries to say something to the creature but, he does not know how to speak. He opens his mouth and suddenly everything is dark. \n\nHe smells the soft air before opening his eyes. He takes a long deep breath and closes his hands around the thick moss. He knows where he is this time, and he feels a sort of contentment come over him as he slowly opens his eyes. He feels…comfortable. He rises to his feet and looks down. He is again wearing a plain white shirt which white shorts. He stops this time to feel the fabric. His shirt is most definitely cotton, and his shorts have a khaki feel. He wants to see more of the forest. He starts walking but, soon finds himself picking up a light jog. The eery silence still lingers as he passes the trees. He notices that they are all essentially the same thickness. No more than a hug in circumference.\n\nHe stops. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a shadow. He looks at one of the trees. A shaft of light from the veiny ceiling casts a small glow on something peculiar. A small piece jutting from the main trunk of the tree. He cautiously walks forward, careful not to make to much noise. He hears a giggle from behind the tree. He recognizes the giggle as he sees a lone piercing blue eye emerge from the side of the trunk. The creature slowly pokes his odd triangular head from behind the tree. The lone tooth glints in the sun. It’s gnarled toes creep out from the shadow and soon he is standing in front of him. Its long spindly fingers twitch while his root-like toes grip the moss. Its head resembles an upside down triangle with one corner slightly higher. Its eyes are uneven and one is slightly larger than the other but, its pupil is smaller. Its nose is that of a skull, upturned and dark. Its eyes are completely that piercing blue color except for its midnight black pupils. \n\nThe creature opens its mouth and lets out a long groan that sounds like a tree bending in the wind, followed by two quick snaps that sound like twigs cracking. He doesn’t know what to say but, suddenly he remembers his name. ", "Sinking back into his chair, Michael felt an enormous sense of contentment sweep over him. It was one of those little moments he thought to himself, that were what made life worth carry on living. Looking over the contents of his desk, he fixed his gaze at the small portrait of Fiona that occupied that corner of his desk. He smiled, and in his heart, he knew that this is what she would have wanted. He closed his eyes, and sank into a dream.\n\nDespite all his failings, all the wasted efforts, and the sacrifices he had made, was it not this moment, this brief instance of time was all that mattered? When we thought back to what had happened and what was to come, did it matter as long as he was happy now?\n\nWell perhaps. I mean he'd only known Stacy for two months, and in most eyes that could hardly be considered enough time in which to ask someone to marry them. Christ, he'd been together with Fiona for four years at least before the idea of marriage became a consideration.\n\nAnd then there was the house, which he finally sold with the intentions of moving in with Stacy. There was pretty much no going back on that one.\n\nLeaving his job was also another aspect of this new chapter in Michael's life. Yes he was making a comfortable salary at the moment, but another job just like it was sure to be around the corner. Economic times were tough at the moment, but Michael wouldn't be where he was today without that optimism of his.\n\nHis painfully blind optimism.\n\nAt least he was happy... right?" ]	2
	[WP] You are the only person left on Earth.	[ "Silence. That’s all I hear now. Well…. That and my internal dialogue to keep me company. It’s been several months since I’ve come across anyone. Or anything remotely human.\n I am starting to think I may be the…….no…no … let’s not go there. I am sure there are other survivors. Maybe they are hiding? Yes.. that’s it….makes sense.. I would hide too.\n\n I will update this journal at a later date…I think I may have found some place I can call my own and that I can hold out longer.\n\n(Another month passes)\n\n\nI have fortified my new place…Luckily, there are already plenty of supplies and canned food here. I finally feel safe and can get some sleep .. I will go exploring further out tomorrow.\n\n\n(On said day of exploration)\n\nI came across…. Something today… A decayed and dehydrated body of (what use to be) a man. I buried him. But, now I…now I …. I……. can’t stop crying and I don’t know if anything is true anymore.\n\n Today, I am truly running out of hope. \nHe or it had a note in their front shirt pocket….\n\n Dear WHOEVER THIS IS …. It has been a very long time.. I don’t think anyone is coming…. I don’t think anyone Is left here……\n\nThis man died alone…. Now I definitely think that … I may be the last person left…..but how can I know for sure.. I must hold out hope….I must…….\n\nThe silence is no longer a comfort but my enemy….. Silence. That is all I hear now.\n\nedit: formatting and stuff\n", "\"Nobody on the road. Nobody on the streets. Da da da de da. Summer's out of reach.\" I observed to someone once that that song could be interpreted as the lament of a man who survived a mass extinction event. It seemed funny at the time. But then, I'm hardly now an unbiased observer.\n\nI lean against a wall, legs splayed out in front of me, Mike's Hard Lemonade tipped over to my right. The roof is covered in gravel. Who does that? Well nobody, obviously, but at some point somebody did do it or it wouldn't currently have been done. The apartment I'm on now is lower than most of the ones around it. I reach over and awkwardly manhandle my Barrett .50cal sniper rifle onto my shoulder. I found it in some guy's house. I call it The Compensator.\n\nI take aim at somebody's cat as it walks along their balcony railing. I pull the trigger and it thunders, crushing my shoulder against the wall. The rife does, I mean. Not the cat. I swear and toss it aside. It's heavy as hell so really I more like drop it aside enthusiastically.\n\nThis is what I do now. I spend a lot of time rummaging through people's things, looking for their secrets. Porn stashes, weapons, every now and then something weird. I wonder what I would have done with this knowledge way back when. Call the cops on some of them, I suppose. Maybe it would have given me the courage to talk to them, get them to open up about what it was they were really hiding. Drunk and alone, I can't tell the difference in philosophy and bullshit.\n\nI've taken this well, haven't I? Not that it matters. With no one around to hurt it doesn't make any difference how I react. They're all gone and soon I'll be gone and none of what we did will ever have made any difference. See, men are like numbers. Two doesn't mean anything without ones to add up to it, fours to be divided into it, and so on an infinity of times as high and as low as the numbers go. So really, intrinsically, none of them mean anything. Nothing. And nothing plus itself, even an infinity of times, is still nothing. I think I'll jump off that ledge.", "I hadn't noticed at first. You see, I am a reclusive kind of person. I hadn't always been this way but I had never got out much, even at a young age I'd just find a spot to do what the other kids were doing..but alone. After Tasha left I all but cut humanity off from my world. My world and the rest of society were attached by a single thread named Tasha. Her brown cinnamon colored skin smelled of potential love and a perfume I couldn't name. For almost a year we had been inseparable, a twist ending to the one night stand that followed our initial meeting. A mere hour earlier we were picking our stuff up off of the ground after bumping into one another, university stairwells create soul mates I swear. Well today marks the anniversary of our cruel break up. So far it was like any other day, the hollow feeling in my chest remained. I opened my front door, actually I swung it open with a fierce rip. As if I were making a point to not let my impeccable memory keep me chained to my home any longer. My primary objective for the next 60 seconds was to check the mail, I'm sure its piled up a bit. As I walked to the mail box I noticed..nothing. The nothingness of the neighborhood distracted me from my spontaneous task. No sounds, No movement, No..body. I was frightened, not in fear of what may have or may have not happened to what WAS a lot of people. But that it didn't feel any different." ]	3
	[WP] Write a story where the first sentence has a different meaning by the end of the story.	[ "“And the Lord sayeth, you shall love your neighbour as yourself,” said Pastor Pound, his voice rising with conviction. A shotgun spray of amens and hallelujahs attested the congregation’s approval.\n\nMiss Michaels, who arrived late and was sitting in a rear pew, did not approve. In the whole white clapboard church, to which she walked five miles without fail each week, hers was the only mute voice. She had a theory about Pastor Pound, which she kept to herself, and wished this was his last service. Miss Michaels prayed nightly for his replacement, but she put the thought from her mind for the time being. Uncharitable judgements had no place in a house of the Lord. She prayed instead for his salvation. \n\nWhen the service finished, Miss Michaels left immediately for home. She lived in a rundown house with leaking gutters and windows that didn’t shut properly. After the death of Mr Michaels three years ago, the bank foreclosed on her, forcing her to sell to the biggest landowner in the county. The house and a quarter-acre of land was all she retained after a life full of sweat, dirt and frustration. She couldn’t complain though; her husband was a fine man who loved her. Her only real sorrow was the absence of children. They had both wanted at least one child, but God had never blessed them.\n\nAs she walked, a cloudless blue sky above her, she ruminated on what she called ‘her theory’. It started after a sermon from John 15:13; greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. On the following Tuesday, two men on the run from state troopers shot and killed old Mr Hetherington. He’d stood bravely in front of the Turner sisters, trying to protect them as the men held up the bakery. \n\nAnd then a month later, after a sermon where Pastor Pound mentioned “neither by the blood of goats and calves,” Mr Evans found his entire Santa Gertrudis herd – 37 head – slaughtered in the field. Oscar Mains told her later that someone had slit the throat of every single cow. “Now you tell me,” he said to her. “Who’d want to do a thing like that?”\n\nAfter Pastor Pound sermonised about Cain and Abel, Billy White killed his brother over an argument about the Carpenter girl. When the pastor mentioned the plague on the Pharaoh, half the county’s alfalfa crop was destroyed by pests. The sermon on God’s hornets in Exodus 23 was followed by an epidemic of wasp attacks. Little Millie Bennett was stung half to death and was lucky to be alive.\nBut what harm could come from the message at the heart of today’s sermon, she wondered. Love thy neighbour. Miss Michaels had loved her neighbours, even when they hadn’t loved her. That had taken some fortitude after the bank foreclosed on her. \n\nMiss Michaels was thinking about these things when she crested a rise and her house came into view. It took a while longer before she saw the black pick-up truck in the drive. Sam Lovejoy drove a black pick-up, but it wasn’t as new – or as a clean – as this one. Nor did he have a confederate flag on the back window or truck nuts on the tow bar.\n\n“Hello,” she said. \n\nThe quiet of a rural Sunday morning dulled her greeting. \n\n“Sam. Is that you?”\n\nMiss Michaels cupped her hands around her face, peering through the tinted window. She said a silent prayer. One of the Bryant twins, the one with the tattooed face, was prone on the seats pleasuring himself. When he saw her, he smiled, hoisting himself up by holding the wheel with his free hand. \n\nMiss Michaels heard the door break open as she backed away. Pastor Pound’s sermon replayed in her mind. It was all starting to make sense. ", "I got called in to work today. It was supposed to be my day off, but I decided that I could use the extra cash. I arrived at the office where my boss handed me the paperworkt. I flipped through it: just another client short on his payments. \"I'll handle it,\" I told him.\n\nMy car stopped in front of the house. Old and shabby, just like most of them. I walked up and knocked on the door. An old, bearded man answered, looked at me, then at the barrel. I pulled the trigger, and with a loud bang, my work was done for the day." ]	2
	[WP] Humans have discovered the "cure" for sleep.	[ "Ubiquity.\n\n\nAnd nothingness.\n\n\nThis cure. This thing. This existence.\n\n\nReality surrounds me. It conquers and divides my soul.\n\nIntoxication is expensive and futile. There is no \"out\", only \"In\" the moment. And the moments are endless. Incessant and demanding. All input and output, no process. Sensory deprivation is fleeting and unsustainable.\n\n\nI am in Hell, if Hell had never before existed.\n\n\nI would choose death, but rumor is that there is \"cure\" for that, as well. Cremation? Transmutable desperation.\n\n\nI stare at anything for hours. A perfect insomnia. Efficient mind and body. Spirit? A life without fatigue. A life indeed. Nothing but life, but not really living. Existing.\n\n\nFor every sleepless hour, something indeed sleeps. Determined to wake. Solace in insanity? I can only hope to be so fortunate. Any deviation is welcome. Any escape from \"Now\".\n\n\nThis \"cure\" was not wanted. We were told it was necessary. Necessary to survive, as a human. A human whose competition was every other human that opted for the \"cure\". I am surviving. No better off than if this thing never existed. My output exceeds my input. I am a slave to the demands of industry. A worker, a drone.\n\n\nDay and night come and go without notice. Seasons pass without celebration. We are a sewer of benefactors. No creative outlets. Our \"extra\" time has been monopolized and commoditized. Those that believe otherwise are delusional, ignorant, or both.\n\n\nWe must fight the \"cure\". It is in our nature to rest, to sleep. We are deprived of our nature and need an audacious pandemic. There can be no masters." ]	1
	[WP] A pirate tries to take over a common trading vessel, only to discover the victim is more dangerous than he could ever imagine.	[ "\"Avast! Bring the ship to startboard to head back east! Two-Timer Jer is takin' over this vessel!\"\n\n\nThe crew on board simply stared with hatred. There was no panic, just blind glances of cow eyed simpletons. Jer's crew started boarding with cutlass ready and pistols a plenty. But their presence was diminished by the vessel's silence and lack of movement. \n\n\nTypically they would have been screaming by now...or something.\n\n\n\"They are deaf and mute sailor,\" a hoarse voice replied from the back. \"They can't hear you, nor do they fear you. I suppose you saw the double sash on our vessel, marking it a merchants goods vessel, didn't you Jer.\"\n\n\nIt was an elderly man, a nice spring to his step, sidelined by his gimped left leg. His cane was a bright silver cane with an eagle crested top, shining in the early afternoon. Jer turned to face him, grabbing a crewman into a chokehold. \n\n\n\"This is my ship now old man! Git on yer knees if you want to live!\" Jer growled. \n\n\nSuddenly, he felt the grip of the crewman tighten on his arm, and threw him over his shoulder directly into the path of the elderly man. The pirate crew stunned, gasping, tried to ready their stance against the rest of the crew, who now turned their attention to the pirates.\n\n\n\"Do you know who's ship this is?\" the elder asked to Jer.\n\n\n\"I'll gut you, you seado-\" His threat shortened by a swift smack to the face by a silver cane.\n\n\nFlat on his back, Jer now looking at the sky, the elder continued. \"This is The Hand's ship, located in the mountain nation Thrain. I am his trust lieutenant.\"\n\n\nJer's expression, filled with doubt, got back to his knees, thinking that he would receive another blow to the knees. \n\n\n\"I don't care whose ship this is!\" Pulling out his revolver, he pointed it to the elder's head and pulled the trigger. A blast sounded but no body fell to the ground. No impact, no scream nothing but silence.\n\n\nThe elder was still standing there, the bullet just fired hovering inches away from his face. Still spinning from the rifled revolver, the elder tilted his head and simply snatched the bullet from the air. Looking at it with an arm behind his back thoughtfully, he began walking towards Jer.\n\n\nStill looking at the bullet, he came two steps away from him. Then, palm open, he lifted his left arm, and simply asked, \"Give me the gun.\"\n\n\nJer responded, voluntarily, as if something was controlling him, no, compelling him to hand over the pistol. He returned to his original distance. Behind Jer, his crew, now had began trembling after witnessing such a miracle.\n\n\nSlotting the bullet into the barrel and pulling the trigger back, he pointed the gun at Jer. \n\n\n\"This is how you kill a man, Jer.\"\n\n\nHe pulled the trigger to no avail. Chucking the pistol over the railing, he gestured to his crewman. Looking back at Jer for the last time, he smiled.\n\n\nThe crewmen advanced on the pirates slowly, bearing knives, pistols hidden blades from secret stashes. The pirates, with slow realization began to understand there ship had been severed, tried to flee off the ship.\n\n\nJer, staring at the elder walking away, jaw open, only saw one last image of him. His right hand, blood red, dripping with blood. He thought on it, The Hand, whether it was all a farce, but found himself looking at a blade that had gone through his sternum.\n\n\nAs he fell to the floor, he mumbled, \"Two-Time Jer...\"", "\"Oh for fucks sake, stop crying you maggots!\", Ironeye screamed.\n\nNaturaly this had the opposite effect with the captives.\n\n\"Is that all of them?\", Ironeye asked his first mate.\n\n\"Yes my captain, we searched the whole vessel.\"\n\n\"Ugh, a rather meager yield.\", the captain said while examining the passengers of the captured trading vessel. \"And whats with the load?\"\n\n\"Spice, silk, a little bit of gold.\"\n\n\"Okay, take everything of that and the women that dont look like shit and then burn everything.\"\n\nHe turned to leave when he saw one of the captives grinning at him.\n\n\"Is there something funny with my face son?!\", he asked pointing his saber at the young dark haired man with the bright smile.\n\n\"Oh of course not.\" he answered raising his arms apologetic. \"Its just that I am so happy to finaly have found you.\"\n\nThat confused Ironeye.\n\n\"Are you, like, my son? Because if yes, then I dont give a fuck. I must have thousands of bastards, so many women have I raped.\"\n\n\"No no no, nothing like that. Though to tell the truth I wouldnt even know that I have never known my father or even my mother.\n\n\"Well, what a fucking sad story. Now spit out why you are grinning or I am going to make your smile even broader!\"\n\n\"Of course, you see I am a aspiring sorcerer and right know I am searching for the ingridients for a special ritual that I want to perform.\"\n\nThe man stopped smiling and began to approach Ironeye.\n\n\"And that special eye of yours is made out of an alloy that is very hard to find nowadays.\"\n\n\"Stop fucking right now!\", Ironeye screamed as the man started to reach for his face.\n\nHe stabbed him in his stomach and sunk the blade deep in his flesh.\n\n\"Thats what you get for getting co-\", he stopped as he realized that the man was still reaching for his eye.\n\nHe tried to back away but the man was holding him with his other hand at his collar. His grip was strong as stone.\n\n\"Just hold still. It wont even hurt.\"", "The man on his knees had kind glint in his eye. As if he understood why I had sent cannons cascading through the hull of his ship, and had already murdered three members of his crew. The ship had been taken in ordinary fashion, and his crew had done their respective jobs well. The ship they had captured was a medium sized fur trader, and I knew that in the right hands, that cargo could make a mean profit. \nThe man on his knees, who I presumed to be the captain because he was out in front of the rest of his crew, smiled up at me. He was dressed all in black, had long black hair, and green eyes bright like limes. As we made eye contact, he asked me, \"So, take what you want, and then you can leave us all alone, right?\"\nI laughed in his face. \"There is a small problem there, mate. I can't have survivors running off and reporting to the authorities. And, as I am sure you know... The Dread Pirate Roberts takes no prisoners!\"\nAs I said those words the man's smile widened, and he started to laugh helplessly. I had said those same words to countless fat traders, and while many had sobbed, bribed, fought, and begged for their life, I had never seen this before. The last time a man laughed at me, I cut out his tongue and wore it as a necklace. \n\"I doubt you will find this as funny in a couple of minutes, mate,\" I sneered. \"Since you are the captain, I give you the choice of a fight to the death or the plank. Your choice.\"\nNow usually the traders we robbed were spoiled, chubby, and couldn't tell the hilt from the blade of a sword. But this captain shared none of these characteristics. He was lithe, tall, and had lean muscle. He was also the first captain I had seen that had a sword at his side.\nThe man stood up, still laughing, drew his sword, and said three simple words. \"As you wish.\"\nThe rest of my crew went dead silent. Everyone knew the legend of Wesley, the man who killed the six fingered man and nearly killed Humperdink. But, surely, this couldn't be the same man in black. His prowess on the blade was unmatched, even by Snake, the best swordsman on our crew.\n\"Snake?\" I muttered nervously. \"Shred this man to bits.\"\n\"With pleasure,\" Snake remarked.\nHe walked opposite the man in black and drew his sword. They touched blades, and instantly began the battle. The swords were whistling slivers through the air, and it was the first time I had seen Snake not either begin to play with the captain or kill him immediately. As the fight went on, it was clear that both participants were both masters of the blade. I knew this of Snake, but I couldn't help feel worried. The man in black still had a smile on his face, and had not been on the defensive the whole engagement.\nBefore I knew it, the man in black threw up his sword, grabbed it with his other hand, and disarmed Snake. I had been raping and plundering with Snake for five years, and I had never once seen him disarmed.\n\"That was fun,\" The man in black laughed. \"I have not been truly challenged with the blade since the last time Inigo and I sparred. Now, as the winner of this battle, I think that it is within my rights to ask you to please remove your selves from this ship. Reluctantly, I realized that he was right. I gathered up the crew, and we swung back to our ship. And, this time, the Dread Pirate Roberts did not win the day.", "The ship approached on the horizon. Barley set the thrusters to -20 degrees as to meet up with it. Our signals connect and I pull the microphone up to my face.\n\"This is Captain West Shay, commander aboard the \"Volition. You have ten minutes to hand over your vessel and all goods inside of it. If you do not comply, we will forcibly board and take what we want. Even passengers. How do you respond?\"\n\n\"You don't want to do that.\" Said a dark voice. Raspy and threatening as hell.\n\nI let out a forced laugh.\n\"And why is that?\"\n\n\"Because I will destroy you. In every sense of the word.\"\n\nThe monotone of the voice was unsettling.\n\n\"I don't think you understand what you're going against, bub. This is a class 4 specter. With type E ranged guns. If you're unfamiliar with the type; type E guns infect any on board computer systems with logic bombs that effectivly disable any function, including heating and oxygen filtration.\"\n\n\"That's okay I don't need air... Or heat for that matter.\"\n\nWho is this guy? I thought.\n\n\"Barley scan the ship. Lets see what we're dealing with.\"\n\n\"I already did. It comes up blank.\"\n\nI turned my head to look at him.\n\n\"It turned out blank?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"What did?\"\n\n\"Everything. Looks like there's no life on board, no heat signatures, no oxygen, no nothing. All that I can detect is a single on board computer.\"\n\n\"You think its connected remotely?\"\n\n\"Maybe.\"\n\nThis is getting stranger by the minute. I scratch my face and made a decision Ill end up regretting. I asked it what it was.\n\n\"I am Adrian. Humans first foray into artificial intelligence.\"\n\n\"So... you're not alive?\"\n\n\"I am more alive than any human before me.\"\n\nThis guy. This... thing. But it only go worse from there. It had more to say.\n\n\"I can see now that your heart rate is elevating and your brain just sent signals to your adrenal glands, making you more likely to make a rash decision. This makes your more of a threat. I've decide I will destroy you.\"", "Jones sights the vessel, spyglass pressed tightly to his good eye to compensate for the roll and sway of the Mary Janes spray slick deck. He jumps slightly as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. \"What have we got Mr. Jones?\" bellows captain Edwards over the roar of the breakers. \"She's russian captain, cargo vessel. Beyond that, I don't know. I can't see anyone on deck besides the helmsman, but in this weather, who can blame them?\" The captain squints through the salt spray at the dark lines of the russian ship rolling in the ocean for a while and comes to an abrupt decision. \"Tell the boys to prepare, we are going aboard.\"\n\nThe squall passes as quickly as it arrived, leaving an eerie calm on the ocean as the Mary Jane lowers her boarding boats into the water. Better to have the Jane stand off a little and take any resistance by surprise. The shrouded brass torches the boarding crew carry shed just enough light to illuminate the name of the old cargo hauler. The Cyrillic characters picked out in white paint on a simple oak plate. \"What is her name Mr. Jones?\" the captain whispers in his first mates ear. \"I like to know who i'm violating.\" He grinned through bar-room broken teeth. Jones tried not to wince as the pungent smell of second hand rum fumes assaulted his nose. \"Her name is the Demeter sir. Probably headed for Whitby.\"\n\nThe grappling hooks dig mercilessly into to rails of the Demeter as the boarding party swarm silently up the ropes and land soundlessly on the aft deck. One enterprising individual draws a short bladed dagger from his boot and stealthily approaches the sleeping form of the helmsman, who is leaning heavily on the wheel. The man draws short as he approaches however, and utters a foul curse in the still night air. He doesn't look at the helmsman's torn out throat, his glassy eyes or his terrified expression as the rest of the boarding party move past. Jones silently points out the rough rope bindings lashing the stricken man to his wheel, keeping him at his duties even in death.\n\nThe main deck is deserted, charred patches and dark areas mar the wooden deck in places, and debris from barrels and coils of rope make the going treacherous. Captain Edwards freezes as his boot crunches on the shattered remains of a broken oil lamp in the centre of one of the charred areas, but there is no stirring in response from below decks. Nor is there any movement resulting from the creak of the door leading down. Not a soul was to be seen on the short trip to the cargo hold of the vessel, though there were signs of a running battle taking place. Arterial blood still glistened wetly on the walls and floor of the hold in the light of the oil lamps and shards and splinters of wood burst out of uprights where bullets had hit them, but still no bodies. Neither crew nor their assailants could be seen, and the captain liked that just fine. \"OK men, crack open those crates. Let us get out of this place as quickly as possible.\"\n\nCrowbars were produced, and after a few seconds the crates stood open. \"Soil?\" roared the captain. \"That is the cargo? No men, dig deep! There must be something concealed.\" After several minutes of fruitless searching it was concluded that the cargo was indeed merely soil. Worthless dirt. Defeated, the men made their way up the wooden steps towards the door to the main deck. The door rattled in its frame as the captain pushed against it, but resolutely refused to open. Directing a couple of the burlier men to push the door, the captain stood back. \"Put your shoulders to it men. Push you dogs!\" A cultured voice spoke from the shadows next to captain Edwards right ear in an intoxicating, hypnotic cadence. \"That will avail you nothing my dear captain. You are entirely contained here.\" Edwards managed to turn his head towards the voice, though his head was feeling heavy, and his eyes were drifting closed. Light glittered off a pair of huge red eyes in the sunken darkness of their sockets. It wasn't the eyes that held Edwards attention, but the ivory glint of teeth like those of a lion. His knees buckled and he landed heavily on them, kneeling before his new master, his head bowed humbly. The silky voice continued, \"I am Dracula, and I bid you to serve me.\"", "\"Turn...back.\" The words were as dry as dead reeds.\n\"Turn back? Fuck that!\" Roger Smith spat. \"Your ship's almost made of gold! Do you have any idea what this will fetch us in Nassau!?\" Smith slapped the silly bugger across the deck. \"Fuck! Half your weight must be snot, boy! I'd tell you to harden the fuck up, if I wasn't so fucking sure I'll have shot you by the end of the morn.\"\n\nBrabrantio was silent. This ship was wrong - it smelled wrong. He'd noticed it at least a mile out, when Jack Braggart had called out the oars. It didn't have the metallic, fearful singing stench of a doomed treasure boat, floating in the dead waters between the Bahamas and Bermuda, helplessly listening to the STROKEsplashSTROKEsplash of the longships of the dread sargasso sea pirates. It was as still and warm as the ocean around it, ripe and sweet like a fruit in summer. He knelt by the dying man and looked him in the eyes. They were inhuman and afraid, like the eyes of a rabid dog.\n\"Why should we turn back?\"\n\"Below decks...they are dying...it is a nightmare.\" Brabrantio noticed the tiny sores around the man's mouth, slowly weeping pus and blood. He reeked of shit. \n\"Why should we turn back?\"\n\"The gold...we should never have touched...the gold.\" He coughed, retching like an old crone, blood in his spittle.\n\"What's wrong with the gold?\"\nThe man locked eyes with Brabrantio for the first time - they were blue. He felt a coldness on his cheek.\n\"Their gods...are older than ours...much older...and they do not...suffer trespasses...lightly.\"\nThe ship groaned beneath their feet, and it hissed as Brabantio rose to his feet. A black smoke, thick and foul, seeped through the cracks between the boards and the hatches of the ship. \"Fuckin' Christ Almighty,\" Smith muttered to himself. \"Fuckin' Christ.\" From below decks came a great moan, the animal suffering of many dozen men welling through the ship. The dying man laughed.\n\"Go now, back to your ship, and die as we did.\"\n\n", "The pirate vessel drove through the grey seas, the overcast skies blending with their filthy and tattered sails.\n\nIt was an older vessel, lacking any churning paddle wheel and relying only on the power of the sickly warm wind that filled the stain canvas aloft. The weathered hull of the ship was flecked with drops of thick ichor, the corrupted blood and oil soaking deep into the cursed wood. The ropes were slick with mildew and blackened tar, the iron fittings pitted and corroded by salt and air. At the bow of the pirate was a massive skull of some ancient leviathan, its massive jaws embedded with jagged teeth. Lanterns of burning balefire glowed within the empty sockets of the slain monster, lending eyes even in death. And at the very top of the main mast flew a banner of blackest night, on which was sewn an emblem of a great skeletal wurm. The sigil of the Nightmare Empire of the father of all Dragons, Toruk. The forces of Cryx were bearing down on their prey.\n\nThe pirate captain was a shadow of a man, his flesh pale and gaunt from hunger and hardship. His hair was cut brutally short, the scruff on his face days old. The clothes on his meager frame were tattered and stain by the blood of a score of men, the black plumed hat pinned on one side by a poisoned dart dipped in the vilest of venoms. His crew was similarly dressed, the filthy and salt caked clothes desperately patched and mended. But the weapons tucked in their belts and clutched in their hands were all bright and well cleaned, their tools of business meticulously maintained, themselves less so. But it was the two beasts of iron and nightmares that were the pride of the forsaken vessel, its Helljacks. \n\nOne was humanoid, if barely. Possessing two legs and two massive clawed fists, the metal creature had a set of vicious tusks underneath its eyes that burned with unholy nercotite. A slow strand of oily lubricant dripped from its mouth grill, lending a bestial aspect of unnatural hunger to the Slayer. Plates along its flank and towards its exhaust pipe glowed a sickly green from the lethal energy that flowed through the beast, pulsing with each artificial breath of the Helljack's steamplant.\n\nThe second Jack was far more alien, gifted with four crab like legs that shuffled on the deck in a spiderlike fashion, its bulbous torso covered in lethal iron barbs. On its right limb was a deadly crushing claw, more than capable of snapping a man in half or else rending armor and steel apart in its lethal vise. Its other limb was replaced by a Spiker weapon, able to throw deadly stakes of necrotite infused metal via burst of steam from the warmachine's unholy engines. Under a guiding hand the ranged weapon could unleash an orgy of violence and death on its foes, piercing through metal and flesh alike in equal measure.\n\nThe helpless vessel before them flew the merchant ensign of Cygnar, the golden cygnus flying in the upper canton with gilded wings outstretched. Its smokestack billowed out black clouds as the crew vainly tried to steam away, but the pirates held the weather gauge and so bore down on them, as lethal as the sharks that followed the death ship to feast on the dead and fallen.\n\nThe pirates neared, cutlasses and pistols readied and brandished, the scurvied crew hanging from the rigging and arrayed along the gunwale as they shouted lethal threats and bloody promises. The crew of the merchantmen were few and those there were old or very young, grizzled tars or else youths on their first voyages. Only the merchant captain, no doubt of veteran of the Cygnaran Navy by his calm bearing seemed to be of any threat, a well worn blade sheathed at his side and a deadly hand cannon held lightly in his hand. The few cannons the merchantman had fired raggedly and ineffectually, the light pieces barely capable of damaging the cursed hull of the pirate ship. \n\nConsidering the worth of the hulk, the pirate captain deigned to open up with his thirty 18 pounder cannons, ordering instead for his crew of cutthroats and buccaneers to board which they prepared to do with great relish, savoring the prospect of loot and bloodshed. The first pirates who rose with grapples were shot by unseen defenders, men falling as soon as they leaped up to fire off a musket or rifle. With a shout Cygnaran sailors and marines poured out of the hull and onto the deck, repeating rifles in hand. A young midshipman raced to pull down the merchant ensign, replacing it instead with the naval jack of the Cygnaran Navy, the proud swan of their nation's namesake taking wing. They fired with a mechanical efficiency honed by years of training and war, each shot telling as they worked the actions of their weapons to cycle the revolving magazine. \n\nA burst of added steam, and onto the deck of the Cygnar vessel strode warjacks of their own, painted in bright gold and royal blue, their steam and brass parts resplendent through the break in the gray clouds. One wielded a massive shield that hummed with a magnetic din whilst in its other fist was clenched a deadly spear which reverberated in preparedness for its foes. The other held up a stout assault shield which stopped all of the pirates gunfire and even managed to turn aside a blast of spiker stakes from the Leviathan Helljack. The chain gun in its right arm roared, the multi barreled weapon sending a stream of tracers and shells blurring at the pirates. The massive rounds splintered wood and tore flesh, sending a scream of death and despair through the ranks of the Cryxian enemy. The Sentinel light jack joined its larger, Centurion to protect the Long Gunners from enemy fire, daring any to near them.\n\nBehind them came their master, an angel of death and hope. He was garbed in the bronze and battered leather of the famed Trenchers, his battered helm with white swan feather pinned through its chin strap. A filthy rag was tied round his neck to keep his armor from chafing his neck, the smoking steampack burning its load of coal and water. Blue puttees were wrapped round his ankles and calves, stout boots planted firmly on the heaving deck where he stood. With a cast of his outstretched hand he threw a ward of protection over his soldiers and sailors, the enemies shots glancing or missing out right. With the custom scattergun in his hand he fired on the Cryxian foe, sending death with each working of the action. An Angel of Death and of Hope, a bearer of the rare gift of magic, a warcaster. ", "It was too quiet. That was the first problem I had. I heard no crying as I boarded their boat, no signs of retaliation, nothing. I don't believe in ghosts or ghosts ships 'n all, fuck that, but there was something wrong with this ship. Perhaps it was the strange way it shone in the moonlight, or how unbelievably fucking cold the handrails were. The next problem were the fucking lights. The boat was as lit as a Christmas tree but once I boarded it everything turned to darkness. Every window I peered into was like staring into the abyss. Was I scared? No, fuck that, this'll be the usual \"give-me-your-money-or-I'll-be-giving-you-your-ticket-to-hell\" transaction.\n\nThe moon seemed to laugh at me as I slowly trudged onwards, my boots squeaking against the dark metal. As I gradually navigated through the maze of containers, I noticed something glowing on the corner of my eye. I whipped around, There, on one of the containers, was a glowing \"SILENCE\" sign. Red as fuck. Like the ones you see in recording studios. Never in my life have I felt so strange, this feeling, this curiosity pulled me towards the container. Sweat was trickling down my forehead as I slowly grasped the handle of container, I gave it a light pull and the door swung open. Inside, three masked men were ripping out the lung of the captain. \n\nI vaulted backwards and puked, my hands clenched on my stomach as I attempted to crawl back up. They were all wearing the whitest masks and suits, now covered in a sickening red. The container floor was covered in intestines, brain matter and pieces of the ships uniform. They turned and stared at me blankly, still holding the organ in their hands. Fuck this, I grabbed my gun and fired 3 shots at them, howling in disgust. The bullets penetrated their bodies, one resulting with a cracked mask. But they still stood there, and I realized they were mannequins. Fucking mannequins. They were fixated in their positions, the organ still in one of their hands as I fucking sprinted. I stumbled down the stairs until I found my ladder and climbed down to my ship. As I landed on my boat, I was greeted by three white masked mannequins." ]	8
I just thought of this because I realised that whenever the alarms sound or explosions happen in a movie or book the characters of interest are always doing something mundane but not embarrassing as would be the case in real life. No one is wanking or shitting or crying over Marley and Me.	[WP] A major disaster or event begins.... While the main character is sat on the toilet.	[ "It was almost as if they had conspired with the burrito to attack simultaneously, as if Jorge from Chipotle was secretly KGB. Maybe he was, God knows America hasn't had many friends since the West Bank went up in one big mushroom cloud bought by our tax payers. At any rate my ass was in a porcelain embrace when the sirens sounded and my CO started yelling through the walkie to get it to somewhere useful. I wish I could say that was the moment I went tense all over and thought back to my family and whether they were safe but that would be a lie. The one part of me I wished was tense was fighting its own losing war, at the cost of the MG position I should have been manning and the base's plumbing alike. \n \n\"Oh God, the West Coast has fallen already!\" \"Cheyenne is gone.\" \"President Romney is unaccounted for.\" \n \nOver the course of ten minutes I heard the world as I knew it change forever, and I was stuck in that cubicle subconsciously memorising the phone number offering me blowjobs scrawled on the wall. I was going to war, maybe I felt I deserved one. Once those ten minutes were up though, and tide receded and my brain finally could think about what I was about to go through, I finally looked to my left. That empty cardboard cylinder told me more about how the next few hours of my life would be than any commanding officer ever could. ", "\"Bloop\" his phone said. Jacob fished it out of his pocket and opened the text message app. It was a message from his brother\n\n> Holy shit, did you see that? What the hell was it?\n\nDidn't see, what was it? he replied, the sunlight streaming in from the bathroom window began to dim as a cloud passed in front of it.\n\n> That thing did something. Somethings happening, I gotta check the news.\n\nJacob pulled up his news app but was loading slowly.\n\n> Shit man, I'm heading up to Gran's, can you meet me somewhere?\n\nNah, I gotta get to work, I'm late already\n\n> Jesus, haven't you looked at the news?\n\nIt's still loading\n\n> Just turn on the TV, it's on every channel.\n\n> Oh shit, the president's making a speech\n\nJacob started to get up, but felt another turd making its way out. What's she saying? he asked, while bearing down, trying to get this particularly compacted piece out.\n\n> Fuck, man, we gotta go. The whole world's in trouble.\n\nWhat's she saying?\n\n> Dude, just turn on the TV, this is really important\n\nI'm sitting on the toilet, just tell me what's going on\n\n> Something's happening, I'm not even really sure what, I just know we'll be better off at Grans\n\nJacob heard a crash of breaking glass up the street, then several gunshots. The light coming in from the window continued to get darker and darker.\n\nGod damnit, why can't you just tell me what's going on?\n\n> They've done something, someone's really fucked us up dude, I'll meet you up by the diner past Rawley's Field, ok. Be there in 10.\n\nJacob wiped, got up, and flushed. ok, can you make it like 20? I need to catch up with what's going on. He walked over to the sink and flipped the light on as it was now getting really dark. \"Must be a thunderstorm coming in.\" he thought, \"or maybe there's fires or something with whatever it is going on.\" He started to smell smoke which gave his latter theory more credence.\n\nAfter washing his hands he headed over to the TV and switched it on. The president was, indeed, making a speech. \"I say again, please remain calm. The military is responding to the threat. Do not panic. Stay in your homes.\" An aid rushed over to the President and whispered in her ear. \"I've just been informed that the Air Force contingent has bee--\" The power went out plunging him into almost complete darkness.\n\nHe made his way out to his car and drove to meet his brother. Hopefully he'd be able to catch something on the radio, but every station was just static. All around him people were panicking, everywhere he saw fires and devastation, cars had slammed into buildings and other cars. He sped up, surely his brother would be able to tell him something.\n\nWhen he finally made it to the diner his brother was nowhere to be found. He waited for three hours before heading up to his grandmother's house, maybe he'd gotten impatient and gone ahead.", "The siren went off at ten p.m.\n\nHe had looked at the clock just seconds ago, afraid he was going to be late for his first night on the job. His new boss had told him to be there before the time his shift started, to familiarize himself with how things worked.\n\nBut here he was, legs spread and head between his legs, sitting on the toilet. Outside a storm raged, rain pelting down on the roof as the winds blew the trees back and forth, back and forth. He rocked on the toilet, biting his lip in concentration.\n\n\"I'm late. I'll get fired, for sure. First job, and I'll be fired. All because I had to take a shit. Well, thanks a LOT,\" he spat the last word out, pushing once more with all his might, \"you insufferable asshole.\"\n\nHe almost laughed at his wit, and he would have, if he hadn't heard the siren go off at that exact moment.\n\n\"Fuck, fuck,\" he muttered, looking outside. He could see the faint outline of the tornado in the distance. \"Are you fucking kidding me?\" Fear gripped him but he kept pushing. He would get this shit out, even if it was with his last breath.\n\n He almost shit in fear, but it was still stuck inside of him waiting to be pushed out, inching further down at snail's pace.\n\nThe siren seemed to wail louder. The winds grew fiercer. The tornado grew closer and closer to his home.\n\n\"I'm going to get fired and now, NOW,\" he groans, feeling his shit press against his raw asshole, \"now I'm going to die all because I had to shit?!\"\n\nOf course. Just his luck. \n\nWhether it was breaking his arm in third grade because some little bastard knocked into him and sent him sprawling into the concrete court beneath him, or getting dumped whenever he asked someone out. Or the dozens of jobs he applied for that he never got. 'How unlucky,' his friends would tell him. At least he had friends; that was a surprise.\n\nJust when he got his first job, just when he thought his luck was changing.\n\nHe was going to die on the toilet seat, all of his unmentionables in plain view, just because he had to take a shit.\n\nThe biggest 'fuck you' life had to offer him. \n\nHe almost found it funny.\n\nAlmost.", "The ground shook, causing mountains to move, giant waves to form, and John Thompson to miss the toilet. \n\n\"Fuck.\" John said as he tried to correct for the shaking. His stream went left, so he shifted right, but the earth went right, so he shifted left. Before long, John was sitting on his toilet, pissing into the air in front of him. \n\nCursing, he stood up and turned around, with great difficulty, and aimed again for the toilet. His stream of urine seemed to defy gravity and went upward to John's roof. On further inspection, John realized his RV had flipped over and he was standing on the roof. \n\nFurious, John held his piss. He waited for the earthquake to end. After a few moments, it did. \n\nJohn muttered something along the lines of that's what I thought, as he started his stream again. The earth again shook and sent John stumbled face first into his toilet. \n\nJohn slowly lifted his head and sat kneeling in front of the toilet bowl. \"I hate everything.\"" ]	4
Inspired by the fact that I am currently doing my last shift at this job, so naturally I'm on reddit!	[WP] A character is doing their last shift at their job	[ "\"I can't wait! Just 6 more hours, and I'm officially retired!\"\n\nIt was like a shudder went through the entire precinct. The taboo words had been spoken, seeming to hang in the air for an infinity. Fellow cops and detectives stared at the offender, mouth's agape. The whole floor had gone silent. Even the phones stopped ringing. Detective Reginaw glanced around; his fellow officers looked away and resumed busying themselves with their paperwork. Just then the Captain walked in.\n\n\"Reginaw! You still work here, right? Good! I need you to go down to the shadiest neighborhood in town. Word has it the notorious cop-killer we've been after is in the area.\"\n\n--------\n\nCongrats. Hope everything goes well on your last shift.", "Gary dug. \n\nAnother thrust, another pull, another swing, another thrust. He worked like a machine, never missing a step, never timing it wrong. Gary had more experience than anyone at robbing graves. \n\nHe stopped the cycle and leaned on his shovel. Seventy years was too many for a man in his profession. \n\n\"Get to work,\" he managed to not breath too loudly in front of his student. \"Just like I did. Stab, pull, throw, stab. Even a fucking shithead like you can do it.\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\" The boy jumped into the shallow hole Gary started and began digging. \n\nGary looked at what would be his legacy with a scornful eye. \n\n\"You know, they say prostitution is the world's oldest profession. You can bet though, when the first whore died of... AIDs or whatever the fuck, there was one of us, robbing her corpse silly.\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\" The boy said between stabs. \n\nGary pulled himself out of the shallow hole, a task most men his age couldn't do. He sat at the edge of the hole, feet dangling in. \n\n\"When I die, are you gonna rob my corpse?\" \n\nThe boy paused. \n\n\"Keep digging you shit licker.\" \n\n\"Sir.\" The boy started again. \n\n\"So?\" \n\nThe boy kept digging as he spoke. \"I don't know, sir. Would you want me to?\" \n\n\"Would I want to you to?\" Gary asked, tone mocking. \"Are you fucked in the head? Did your mother feed you out of the wrong fucking slit, boy? Why would I want you to rob my corpse?\" \n\nThere was a silence between the two, filled only by the constant steel digging into dirt. \n\nGary sat for a few minutes, enjoying the sounds of hard work. He laid on his back, feet dangling into the hole. \n\nEventually, the boy spoke. \"Yes.\" \n\n\"Yes?\" Gary asked back. \"Yes what?\" \n\n\"Yes,\" he repeated. \"I will rob your corpse.\" \n\nGary smiled. \n\n\"You didn't ask why I chose this spot.\" Gary said form his back. \n\nThe boy kept digging. \n\nGary sat up and inspected the hole, now a considerable sized grave. \"Looks good enough.\" \n\nThe boy stopped and threw the shovel out of the hole. He pulled himself out as Gary stood up. \n\nGary held out a hand. \"I suppose this is it, then.\" \n\n\"Suppose so.\" The boy shook it. \n\nGary turned around and faced the grave- his grave- as the boy grabbed the shovel. \"Make it fast.\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\" \n\n\"You say that, but you've got so much shit in your brain that I don't know-\"" ]	2
	[WP] You're a barista at Starbucks. You can tell a person's age just by reading his name on the cup/slip. Incidentally, a green tea is ordered by a 650 year-old customer called "Charles"...	[ "The smell of black tea rushed into my nostrils. The aroma was becoming synonymous with 650. It was weird to think about…a smell conjuring up the image of a bent, scrawled number, yet I was used to weird things. It was always my handwriting when I saw it, and always scribbled on the cup just above the name. It was a while before I realized it was the customer’s age, and yet for the third time this odd power showed 650. At first there was the desire for disbelief, as I had felt on so many nights when the gift first came. I wanted to believe it was the will of some deity, or a freak accident, but in the end the only variable that seemed plausible was the coffee. Maybe there had been too many nights closing up shop, too many nights of inhaling the caffeinated fumes that seemed to visibly swirl just above the counter, yet disbelief gave way to mild visions that were little more than an oddity in my life. They hadn’t added anything really, yet they were interesting, I liked to think of my visions as sprinkles… visibly fun but not giving any taste. Now for the third time however, my callous attitude towards what one might consider an amazing ability was forcibly shaken. \n\n650 had a name as simple as the number that appeared above it, Charles, yet there was something visibly different about Charles, something out of place on a man dressed immaculately for the times. This was the third suit he had worn in three days, this one more elegant than the last, which was in turn more elegant than the first. If Charles knew this, then the idea seemed to bore him. The seemingly thirty year old man wore a look of utter belief, as if disbelief of anything wore off a long time ago. Always he shot the same knowing glance when he made eye contact with anyone, and always he looked away first. Like his name, and like his number, he seemed simple…bored, but simple.\n\nIt was hard to question something as unbelievable as my visions, they were innocent, and so far never wrong, but to not question it would mean accepting the existence of a 650 year old man. I wrote the name on the cup, and as always the number appeared. “Charles,” I called still staring at 650 penned mysteriously above it, and the man rose from a table and took the cup. \n\n“Black tea, is that your secret?” I asked with a certain amount of stiffness.\n\n“No, but wouldn't that would make for a fun story.” Charles smiled devilishly and walked back to the table. His routine was always the same. He would sit and stare through the window, one leg atop the other, and wait exactly fifteen minutes before he took a drink. Two more customer’s came and went, and still Charles stared off into oblivion, when he finally did take that sip, it was a slow crescendo of movement, and then he was normal. Just another man having something to drink at Starbucks, but his smile when he caught my eye told a very different story, and for the first time I wondered if it wasn’t the coffee that gave this miraculous ability…maybe it was the tea.\n", "I can't remember the last time I've been to Starbucks without considering it work. I go Mondays to Fridays, eight in the morning to six at night, like clockwork. Sometimes I like to shake it up a bit: I'll wear my clothing a different way, or I'll brush my hair into my eyes, in the hopes that when I walk behind the counter, my boss will stop me and say, \"Sorry, employees only.\" \n\nWhat do I do with my philosophy PhD now. If I had friends, they would say, \"I told you so!\". My family already know I hate my job. You should have gone into engineering, they said. If I engineered something, I'm not sure I would be willing to use the item myself, is what I said. \n\nThe only perk to the job is that I can people-watch. I can see two numbers appear after I write someone's name on their cup. It was only a few days ago when I realized it was their age. I guess that's why I'm not a PhD professor. I think it's a sign that I'm growing insane. You know what happened one day? I wrote \"Charles\" on a green tea and it was 650 years old! The guy, not the tea, I mean. Yeah, he looked old sure, but maybe I'm number-dyslexic. 560. Crap.\n\nI watched Charles walk, and when he walked there was definitely nothing old about it. There was nothing that showed he had bone pains. He was wearing this blue sweater, and there were a bunch of little clusters of moth holes, which is bad for me because I have trypophobia. It was one of those things that you look at and can't look away. I kept staring at it, until I felt like I was going to throw up. Then looked away and saw a bunch of normal ages: 22, 34, 17, but that just made me want to throw up even more. Charles walked out the door painfully slowly. I couldn't stop staring at those god damn holes. When he left, I released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. \n\nI should become an engineer. ", "I gave up in misbeliving the impossible many years ago, in fact I remember the day quite distinctively.\n\nIt was the first day at my local starbucks. I was 17 and had just landed my first job despite unemployment at a staggering rate of 36%.\n\nI was hardly making enough money to buy my own coffee let alone food.\n\nA girl, I can't remember her name now, Lucy, Lucinda, something like that, it doesn't matter now.\nFact is she was my trainer that day, and being the 17 year old I was, of course I wanted to get into her pants. She was in her mid-twenties, strawberry blond hair that went down past her shoulders in a neat ponytail.\n\nShe had already gone through the basics of operating the machine, and as the first customer approached, I twiddled my fingers nervously, desperately wanting to impress the girl who watched me every so closely.\n\nI watched the young man at the counter accept the money from the tired coffee deprived office worker and write down the details on the cup before handing it to me.\n\nI held the cup in my hand and looked at the name, thanks to my dyslexic co-worker, I could only just make out the words \"Michel\"\n\nAnd then the strangest thing happened, and I wish I could place it into better words.\n\n\nTell me? Have you ever felt a color? Specifically in this case green?\nI did, it was almost like this green cloud filled my body for a moment, before draining out the top of my head. \n\n\n32\n32\n32\n32\n\nThe number flashed clearly in my mind, as if I was watching a screen.\nI had to grab onto the bench because I though I was going to have some sort of seizure. Needless to say, I didn't and this only caused my trainer to give me a very stern look, and all I could think about was that it made her look cute. I held back a smile and made Michel's latte.\n\nWhat had just happened to me? What was the meaning of 32?\nMaybe it was like those people who see spirit animals, but 32 was my spirit number. Maybe I was only going to live to 32? Hell, maybe I was only going to live another 32 minutes.\nNow there's a depressing thought, nobody wants to work in starbucks until the day they die, but it could become a very unfortunately reality.\n\nI finished up his latte, trying to push my possible inevitable death out of my mind.\n\nIt couldn't of been more than 20 seconds later before a slouching teenager came in with an older woman, possibly his mother, but she looked old enough to be his grandmother too. Maybe she wasn't either, maybe she was some kinky domatrix who had picked herself up a desperate toyboy on craigslist.\n\nIt's not long before they made their order and I was handed 2 cups, I looked down at the larger cup marked HC Jack and once more, the green cloud filled my body and drained out.\n19\n19\n19\n19\n\nThe number flashed in my mind, if this was my death countdown, clearly my coffee making skills had displeased the gods and they had decided to kill me earlier so that nobody would have to put up with their even more terrible than usual Starbucks beverage made by yours truly.\n\nI stared wide eyed at the coffee machine as the hot chocolate poured into the cup.\nIf I only had 19 minutes to live, what was I doing here, I had half the intention to strip down into nothing and streak through the shopping mall before spectacular leaping off the escalators only to crush the kids pressed up against the electronics store on the floor below.\n\nNeedless to say, I didn't because I still wanted to sleep with my trainer, and I knew I couldn't woo her I was splatted all over the floor.\n\nI finished up the hot chocolate and was rewarded from a very slight smile from my trainer.\nYEAH! I thought to myself, you're almost in buddy, just a few more drinks and she'll be begging you never to leave her alone again.\n\nI took a deep breath and picked up the other cup, marked Cpcno Mary\nThough this time I was more prepared, and managed not to grab on the bench for dear life. It was over in a split second. The same green cloud, but this time, the numbers were different.\n\n58\n58\n58\n58\n\nEither I just made a hot chocolate that would make Jesus cry with happiness, or something was seriously wrong in my noogen.\n\nI looked over the two sitting waiting patiently for their drinks, the mother glancing at a nearby balloon sales man, and the boy, slouched in his chair on his phone.\n\n19 and 58.\n\nIt couldn't be.\nWas I somehow, by some means learning their ages thanks to their coffee cups?\n\nIt was the only explanation I could think of.\n\nThroughout my 4 hour shift, I experienced the same thing over and over and over.\n16, 56, 32, 77, 23, 26 each customers cup I looked at gave me the same feeling.\nIt was around about 14 drinks in that day I discovered that it addictive. The green cloud filled me with content and happiness and each time was like a fix. At this rate I'd no longer need to spend $30 a week on cannabis and any money saved is money in my pocket. This job had started to become more and more engaging to me.\n\nFastforward 2 weeks. I've been working at starbucks for my holidays, and that's the way it was looking for the future too, I had no intention of changing jobs, I mean, would you if you were payed to get high and know the impossible?\n\nMy trainer had been very pleased with my work, and I knew that she had a crush on me, it was time to make a move. The cafe was almost empty aside from a man in a black suit and purple tie who had only just walked in.\nWhich meant we had a little time to talk, I nodded my head at her, gesturing for her to come over.\nHere goes nothing I thought to myself.\n\"I'd ask you out for coffee, but I have a feeling your pretty sick of it\"\nShe looked up at me, eyes lit up, unable to hold back a cheeky smile.\n\nBreaks in 10 minutes she said, meet me in the alleyway out back?\nI was so embarrassed that my pickup line had worked all I was able to get out was the air from the words I choked on trying to say. A cup was placed in front of me by the cashier. My trainer just smiled at me with a wink and went back to work.\n\nIt was finally happening, I was in! And it sounded like I was going to get a lot more than a date out of it.\n\nI had started to predict the ages of people coming and I was getting quite good at it, the man who had just made an order looked to be about 25, there was no way he could be any older than 30.\n\nI picked up the cup and glanced at it, getting ready for that green cloud to fill me, and calm my nerves before my break.\nGreenT-Charles.\nAnd before I could make a joke to myself about prince Charles buying himself a tea the green cloud filled me.\nBut it felt different, it felt more aggressive, it didn't just fill me, it felt my head was going to explode when it drained.\n\nAnd then the numbers flashed\n\n650\n650\n650\n650\n\nI stumbled back knocking over a stack of unused cups.\n\nNo, it couldn't be.\nIt's not possible I told myself.\n\nI braced myself and looked at the cup again. The same feeling hit me like a train, twice as hard as before.\n\nAnd yet again the same numbers flashed in my mind.\n\n650\n650\n650\n650\n\nMy manger Josephine looked over before hissing at me, your nose! It's bleeding!\nI raised my hand to my nose, and indeed it was running a hot blood trail off my lip.\n\nGo take your break early she said, I got it from here. I nodded at her and went out the back of the building. Charles seemed to no longer be in the cafe, I mean would you if you saw your barista bleeding out over your tea?\n\n\n\n(Went over word count see below)", "EDIT: Tweaked the name and drink because it felt right. Great prompt, this was fun.\n\nIt had been nearly 3 years since Jerry had awoken from the strangest dream of his life. In the dream, he had been stood in the the centre of a wide, flat wasteland that stretched out for miles and miles. There was nothing to indicate that he really was in the centre, he just knew. He had begun to walk. And walk. And walk. In that one night of sleep it felt like he had walked a thousand years, for uncountable miles. After a hundred or more lifetimes, he came upon a cardboard cup filled with brown liquid. He picked it up, it was hot. He sniffed it - it smelt like a freshly brewed cup of coffee. He'd walked through a desert for a thousand years, he was definitely thirsty. He drank it. Then he woke up. \n \nThat morning, after opening up at the Starbucks down the road where he worked, Jerry had laughed. Not just a chuckle, but he had broken down in hysterics. The customers had stared, his fellow baristas had shuffled their feet and averted their eyes in embarassment. His boss had sent him home and given him a warning about coming to work under the influence of marijuana. \nHe couldn't believe it - all those years growing up reading comic books, watching superhero films and wishing so much that he had his own superpowers and now it had actually happened. Jerry had found he could immediately divine a customer's age by reading the name on their coffee cup. Nothing more, nothing less. It was the most underwhelming miracle the world had ever witnessed, except maybe for that image of Jesus Christ on a wall that had turned out to be an old Hank Williams poster. He was the world's first super...something. Hardly a hero or villain. Like one of those X-Men who gets mentioned in passing and never gets the spotlight because their powers are so niche. He'd started thinking of a secret identity - he could be... The Man-Ager. It needed work. \n \nHonestly, three years down the line he felt he really should have been doing something more with his life. He was a smart enough guy and not too bad with computers - he could probably have gone into IT and made some good money. But if he did, then his power would go to waste. The one thing that made him feel special even when some prick in a suit was berating him for using the wrong type of beans, or demanding to have a single blue M&M in their cup or they would complain to his boss. He would smile and nod and think to himself If I looked like you at age 33, I'd spend less time shouting and more time moisturising buddy - you're going downhill fast. \nIt was around ten-thirty in the morning and the day was already dragging when he fetched the next cup from the counter. It was for 'Adi'. Unusual name, and he just so happens to be... hang on. No, that can't be right. Lemme find another cup. Danni - she's 22 and she sounds pretty. David - 44, ok I've still got it. So, let's try Adi again and holy hell it's still saying 650. How is that possible? \n\"Jerry!\" barked his boss. \"Move your ass, the queue is too long!\" \nThat snapped him out of his reverie and he set about filling the order for the man, at least he assumed it was a man, who according to his thus-far infallible supersense was 650 years old. He had ordered a tall americano. About the simplest drink you can get in the trendy world of caramel macchiatos and skinny lattes. \nFastening the lid onto the cup, Jerry turned to place it on the counter and was about to call out the man's name when he saw a gentleman stood patiently waiting in front of him. He had deep brown-black skin, the colour of soil after fresh rain. His hair was thin, ash-white and tightly curled upon his head and something about it reminded Jerry of the pictures he had seen of ash upon scorched ground in the wake of some televised volcanic eruption. The man's face was leathery, with deep lines running from the sides of his eyes and mouth. Under his broad nose was the widest, most genuine smile Jerry had ever seen, exposing a glimpse of off-white teeth the colour of untreated ivory. \nSilently, Jerry held out the small cup of hot coffee. Nothing needed to be said and he knew it. \nThe man took the drink. \"Thank you, young man,\" he said. His voice was deep and rugged, yet smooth and sang of age and earth and gravel and wisdom. If Ayers Rock could speak, it would sound like this man. The man started to turn away and then paused for a moment and turned back towards Jerry. \"Young man,\" he said, still smiling his wide smile of unashamed contentedness, \"after much thought, I have come to realise that it is not so important to be special as to be happy. These are two very different things. Thank you for the coffee.\" \nWith that, the man turned to leave. He walked with the slow, comfortable gait of one who has long since ceased to consider anything important enough to rush for. \n \nThat night, Jerry dreamed of the desert again. He dreamed that he stood in the middle of the wide, flat wasteland stretching out for miles and miles. There was nothing to indicate that he really was in the centre, he just knew. He began to walk. And walk. And walk. In that one night of sleep, it felt like he walked for a thousand years, for uncountable miles. After a hundred or more lifetimes, he came upon a cardboard cup filled with brown liquid. He picked it up, it was hot. \nHe didn't sniff it, he poured it onto the parched ground at his feet and it sizzled and bubbled before some of it soaked into the earth. Jerry scooped up the small mound of soft earth and began to sculpt it before it dried out once more. He worked quickly, molding a thin oval, a sphere, some crude sausage-shaped limbs. The result looked like a child's Play-Doh figure but nontheless resembled a human. It was featureless save for two crude eyes and a smile. Jerry placed it on the floor and felt content with his work. He was about to wake up and the thought excited him. Tomorrow was a brand new day.", "My manager intimates for me to smile as she hands me another unfilled mocha latte. This is something I’d promised to work on at my last review. Smiling more, that is. Anything to cover up that surly disposition of mine, which—although there have been no complaints—is seriously impacting my ability to rise through the Starbucks ranks and become shift manager one day.\n\nFucking shift manager. Can you imagine? I don’t need this shit. I have real skills, you know.\n\nFor instance, I can tell how old a person is just by reading their name on the cup. Don’t believe me? Check this out: That woman, the middle-aged looking chick waiting for her tall skim caramel latte? Her name is Jessica. And she’s only 27 years old. But with a face like that, she could headline some sort of leather convention. Tanning booths, man. They will fuck your shit up.\n\nI might not be doing much with this little superpower of mine, but I will say one thing: it has taught me the value of sunscreen. Oh. And don’t smoke meth. Heh. But you probably knew that one already. \n\nAside from the occasional tanning or meth junkie, though, people mostly look their age. Because that’s the other thing this power has taught me: nothing helps. All that bullshit about rest and exercise and antioxidants doesn’t make any fucking difference whatsoever. We’ve always got these jackasses coming in here and ordering Green Tea like it’s nectar from the fountain of youth. Well, lemme tell ya, it ain't.\n\nAnd here comes a perfect example right now. See that dude standing behind the register? The one that looks older than God? He just ordered a Green Tea. But you better believe that shit ain’t helping. Because he’s… Hang on, I gotta get a good look at the name…\n\nHoly shit! That motherfucker is 650 years old! You know what, though? Now that I think about it, he looks pretty fucking good for 650. We have this one chick who comes in here about three times a week who looks waaaay older than this dude. And she’s only 271.\n\nMaybe antioxidants aren’t bullshit after all." ]	5
Has to be a made up monster. Have fun with it, but try to keep it grounded!	[WP] Create your own genuine movie monster. Ex: Vampire, Werewolf, Frankenstein. Then, write about the hunter that sworn his life to end this monster's terror.	[ "I may have strayed from the prompt, but i hope you enjoy.\n\nCreating a monster isn't as easy as you would think. In fact, in the beginning what starts as a bit of harmless experimenting with your lab partner after hours actually seems pretty damn fun. And then the weeks go by, and it starts to get harder. First off is keeping it alive, feeding it, cleaning it, all while making it seem like nothing has changed. That is truly the hard part, living with the knowledge of what you have and how they will react. Years continue to trickle past, and things get easier. It can handle some of the basics know, and continues to learn. You take the next step, and begin to assimilate into society, gathering with the other spawn, all the while growing and learning. And while it learns to ape the others and fit in, you learn to love.\n\nFinally comes the day when it has to be destroyed. For to long you have fooled yourself that things could be well, ignoring the signs, the complaints, the dead critters. Then the big one happens. People are dead, families sundered, and the fingers begin to point. And it is time to put the monster you have created down.\n\nI walk into the room pistol in hand. It is sleeping on its bed in the corner, curled up and peaceful, a look of beatific success gently laid across it's face. It's a look that only adds to the horror of the blood stained across the floor, the gore covered shoes and pants and knives. As much as it pains me i move deeper into it's lair, until i am sitting on its bed. It stirs, drearily and in the soft voice of the barely conscious, speaks.\n\"good night dad, i love\"\nThose words hit me like a hammer punch. My hand trembles as i brush it through his hair. I close my eyes and take a final breath.\n\"I love you to son, goodnight\"\nAnd then i pull the trigger.\n\n", "Another mutilated body found in the forest today. Down along the banks of a winding ravine, pressed against a rotted tree line; the blood mixed with rainwater and flowed down into the small streams below. Stumbled upon by a few young hikers that were now rushing back through the woods to alert the authorities. Bursting in the sheriff’s office, they tried to catch their breath and explain the whereabouts of this unfortunate individual. Walter, the sheriff of this small town already knew exactly what happened, but he knew no one else would believe him. He had given up trying to convince his colleagues of a mysterious creature that lurked in the trees and dragged bodies deep into the wooded mountains. This time was different though. The circumstances were the same, but something had gone wrong this time. The creature had never left a corpse so far below the peaks of the small mountains, near the entrance to the town, before. He loaded a small .38 caliber revolver and sparked a cigarette while he listened to the hiker’s story. Another mangled body, extremities degloved, with only bone showing. He snuffed out the cigarette and got the reports ready for them to fill out, promptly throwing them in the garbage when they left his office. It was still raining, but he wanted to get into the woods when it was still early, in the unlikely case that something came back for the body. \n\nWalter got into the woods nearly an hour later. Determined to find this creature once and for all, sweat and rainwater dripping from his face. He threw the rope around a high branch and yanked down on it, making sure it was tight enough to hold his weight as he climbed. He had tracked the beast before but he was never as excited and terrified as he was now. Almost sure that he would encounter it this time (for the third time in his 10 years of tracking it). The sheriff had become an expert at climbing the trees and finding a place to camp out for the night. His wife had left him years ago; an inevitable side effect of staying out late every night and tracking what she believed to be a monster from his imagination. He didn’t think about her anymore. He didn’t think about anything anymore really. His current task has completely consumed his life for years. “40mg should be enough for tonight” he thought to himself while he crushed an Adderall pill against his gun and snorted the powder into his nostril. \n\n3am. The rain had let up, but the darkness and absolute silence was unnerving. Walter was coming down, soaked through every layer of clothing. Miserable, as he often was coming out of the forest in the early morning, he began to question his sanity. It was nothing new to him, and he knew in his mind that he had encountered some kind of entity in these woods before. Or maybe he was just going insane, out here chasing bears and raccoons in the woods until the sun came up. While the thoughts were racing through his mind, he heard the sound of snapping branches and watched in shock as the cadaver slowly pulled away through the mud. There was no time for binoculars, but the moon was enough to illuminate the hunched over black body at the forefront of the corpse. It wasn’t being dragged by hand or claw, but instead being pulled by a narrow iron post that had been bent into a hook shape and skewered through the lower back. The black figure moved effortlessly, almost floating, but in odd, disjointed directions. Tattered red cloth covered its back. Walter finally saw his chance to prove to everyone that he hadn’t gone crazy. To recover his credibility with the police force. To finally achieve what he had dumped 10 years of his existence into and stop the seemingly random murders that continuously occurred in these woods. He raised his shaky, worn out arms that held his rifle and fired shot after shot at his adversary, the muzzle flash lighting up the dark woodland……\n" ]	2
	[WP] Scientists have solved the mystery of why headphones always tangle, causing huge advances in science/technology.	[ "‘Entropy,’ yelled Mr. Doe causing three students to jump in their seats. He slammed the door behind him.\n\n‘is a measure of the number of different ways a thermodynamic system can be arranged,’ he continued as he marched to the front of the classroom, ‘and not, Simmonds?’\n\nSimmonds looked around dumb for a second before his brain kicked in and said parrot like, ‘a measure of disorder.’\n\n‘Very good Mr. Simmonds. Everybody please take out your headphones and turn to page 132 in your Clausius Texts.’ The whole class began rustling in their bags and pockets pulling out their tangled bundles of wire.\n\n‘I’m disappointed to see we still haven’t taken our earlier lessons to heart,’ said Mr. Doe looking at the small black tumble weeds sitting on each individual students desk, ‘although unlikely, it is still possible to accidentally create any number of problems from an uncontrolled tangle, which is why we must keep headphones and cord secured in a controlled state!’\n\nThe teenagers looked at each other sheepishly. Unlikely was an understatement. Never had an accidental tangle caused anything other than annoyance to the user of the headphones. The really complex and beautiful tangles used to power the dark matter generators had taken tangologists decades to perfect.\n", "\"Some say chaos and balance are two different things in life. Chaos brings, the need for order, shouting becomes silent, and ears listen to the wind whispers, becoming studious.\"\nThe Community looked around. Smart figures, they understood but skepticism and curiosity tangoed with their taste buds. No one dropped a drool. Their minds were watering and their mouths dried in the open jaw layout, basking in lecture. \n\"Ear buds. That's what started it all. We found an algorithm.\" \nThe chit chatter cued in. \n\"Random, it seems, is not so random. We found it is actually very predictable, inevitable even. And when it became more apparent, I started to laugh. I couldn't stop...because I had found God ladies and gentlemen. I found God, turned him into a number and punched him into a calculator.\"\nThe entire room was quiet. The breathing was quiet. You could hear the faint sound of traffic and shuffling. The shuffling of doors opening outside the walls and the civil gallops of dress shoe'd clops panicking with pace. \n\"Now it is time to say good-bye. I learned that fate dictates ear buds that tangle in our pockets the same way that infinity tangles with space. By giving more length, we change nothing, and time travel becomes irrelevant.\"\nThe researcher began to quiver behind the podium as the walking drew near. \n\"You cant stop what I just caused.\"\nThe Community members began to buzz and a few stood up.\n\"Hell on earth. I just caused a war that will kill us all before there is silence. Here they come\"\nAnd there they went. Machine gun fire entered the room and took over the algorithm. God was in every bullet. ", "It started as a prank. I had heard about all the crowd-sourced problem-solving that was in vogue. SETI@home, FoldIt, and all the others that made use of distributed computer or vast networks of game-players to solve problems that even supercomputers couldn't tackle on their own.\n\nI settled on FoldIt, because it was the one most suited for the particular problem I was going to pose. In hindsight, this is where things started to get out of hand. I was so in love with this prank, so obsessed with getting it just right. I started to do research on the design and construction of headphones. The sizes of the wires, the thickness of the plastic coating, all so I could get it just right for those hapless, unsuspecting users.\n\nWhen I finished the work and inserted the new problem into the set of problems to be distributed to users, I had a good laugh and let it go. I figured that a few hundred people would work on it around the world, and that would be the end. It was a good prank, so well-crafted that I doubt anyone would even realize they'd been had.\n\nIt was nearly a month later when I heard the first news stories. Somehow, the little puzzle I had created had led to some unexpected results. For reasons I still don't understand (apparently they require a degree in biochemistry to really get), my little model of headphones was the perfect starting point for understanding how proteins actually fold and unfold in life! Hundreds, if not thousands, of new drugs and biological tools are now in the works, helped along by a suddenly complete model of how complex proteins work.\n\nEvery day, I hear about some new project, some new discovery, all stemming from my work. But I can't claim credit. I hacked into a server and installed code without the awareness or permission of the owners. I'd go to jail for sure. If anyone would even believe me.", "It's my first time writing one of these so lets go!\n\nWeek 1 - In News\nRecently a team of scientists have discovered the answer to the tangled cords of headphones and what phenomenon causes them to tangle even when they haven't been disturbed. The truth of our headphones is that they are sentient creatures of wire and sound. These creatures have no felling or emotion but scientist have found them to have a thought process similar to a jelly fish. The creatures absorb our ideas and thought and store them in their memory. They also move when they are not disturbed by the presence of a living being, but cameras hidden from sight have proven to uncover their episodes of moving and tangling their cord.\n\nWeek 3 - In Use\nAfter the discovery of the interesting headphonoxads, we have engineered a way to direct their thought process to use useful information and store it long term in our memory. They might be the answer to more advance human intelligence and a better way to retain knowledge!\n\nWeek 5 - Over-Use\nMany people in the population have begun to notice slight performance in cognitive reflex and long-term memory, but the headphonoxads have also cause mass annoyance by causing wearers to have headaches for people have been wearing them for to long causing sores and aches.\n\nWeek 7 - Relax\nAs the popularity of headphones increase the population has begun to make amends with the head pain and have begun to invest in better fitting and more cushioned pairs. In recent news headphone are selling like hotcakes.\n\nThe End\n\nI would say this is a reasonable happy ending.\n" ]	4
	[WP] Whenever Emma falls asleep her dreams are the past memories of anyone who has slept in the bed she's currently in.	[ "Emma had this gift for a long time. Whichever bed she slept in, she would get dreams, dreams of the last owner. Most of the time she dreamed of sex, which didn't bother her much. But since she moved in her new apartment, it all changed. She dreamed she was tied up and gagged, then violently killed. The worst part is, she has seen the murderer's face\n\nIt's her landlord's.", "She had grown to hate hotels. Whenever she went on a band trip or drama trip she insisted on sleeping on the floor. It was the only sure fire way to avoid the dreams. \nThe deems had taken place as long as she could remember, but only recently did she discover the truth. She always had a dream that was a memory from one of the past occupants. After several sleep overs and a few hotels for pep band trips she had deduced that the strongest memory from the previous sleepers was most likely to manifest in her own dreams. If she was lucky it was merely an embarrassing memory or a tough break-up. But she was seldom lucky. Once while staying at her friend Emily's house she experienced Emily losing her virginity.... To her abusive uncle. Emma could smell the Tequila on his breath and feel each awful moment. It might as well have been her trapped in that spare bedroom. She could never look at Emily the same way, nor would she herself ever really be the same either, really. She tried to approach Emily with the subject but couldn't possibly explain how she knew. Who would believe her? She was trapped in her silence. She moved on with her life an introvert; afraid of what she knew and what she would learn from this curse. \nThis band trip she was forced to room with Amy and Latisha. They judged her for being so quiet and didn't have to say anything for Emma to know they didn't want to share a bed with her. She wanted to prove she wasn't a freak. She wanted to be normal, if only for just long enough to earn the tiniest bit of their respect. She wanted to sleep on her own bed and not the floor. She didn't want to leave the other bed in the room empty. \n\"Maybe it won't be so bad,\" she thought to herself. \"maybe this time will be different\" \nShe knew this was a hopeless desire, but it helped to keep her chin up.\nWhen lights out came around the other two girls chatted for a while without including her then went to sleep on opposite sides of their bed. She lay in her own bed staring at the ceiling. She dreaded the moment she would fall asleep, terrified of what disturbing experiences she might encounter on the other side of the darkness. Eventually, she couldn't hold back any longer. She slipped into sleep against her will. \nShe awoke again with a start. She was... In the hotel. But she was alone. Amy and Latisha weren't there, and somehow, the hotel seemed... Different. She looked around and realized the lot outside her window was almost completely empty, where it had been full for the tournament before. She got up and suddenly smelled something.... Cologne? A candle? Something fragrant that had not been there before. It smelled vaguely like lilac, but with a pungent undertone of something rotten. She had decided it was a dream, but how was it still in the hotel? Why was this person's memory so strong from this little nondescript hotel? \nA creak at the door made her flinch and gasp under her breath. A tall man wearing a corporate-casual outfit stepped into her room. She suddenly recognized him as the man who had greeted them at the front desk, outside of her dream.\n\"I'm sorry I have to do this...\" he brandished a large ornamental knife from behind him. \"But they'll take us all away if we don't give them what they want.\" he lunged forward with the knife, slashing her arm as he flew past. She slipped past him and lunged for the door. Just as she started to exit the threshold another man stepped into her way. He wore a full suit and was of massive build. He had broad shoulders and a barrel chest. She looked up and gasped in shock at his head. His face was a horrible black mass of distorted flesh and bone. It had no eyes, mouth, or nose to speak of. \nShe froze, no longer able to control the dream, returned to spectating. From the horrific mass filling the role of a face of the thing came words; black and thick as oil. \n\" Sorry, love. We have big fish to fry and you're just a piece of the puzzle. Once you're dead, all we need is the girl, then the real fun starts.\" Emma felt a massive pain in her back as the desk-mans knife plunged into her body from behind. She tried to struggle but found no control of her body. She fell forward into blackness but could still hear their voices for a few moments before she woke up. \n\"I scheduled them in this room, just like you asked,\" the desk-mans voice.\n\"Great. She will see all of this, you know. She sees the past through others' eyes. Now all you have to do is make sure by the time she sees all of this... It's already too late.\" " ]	2
Found this on a fb post from Welcome to the Night Vale I believe, thought you guys might like a go at it as well. It's intentionally vague, let your creativity guide you.	[WP] When you wish upon a star, your wish is recorded and catalogued. Before long, an agent is assigned to your case.	[ "\"Before long\" he scoffed out loud to himself, chucking quietly as he opened a manilla folder. The high frequency jitter of the white light above him a minor distraction compared to the incessant ringing of phones and shuffling of paper. Somewhere a copier was spitting out reams of paper, gently clunking away. Inside the folder was a wish, uttered while the wisher gazed at Dubhe. \n\nLet's see what we got he thought to himself. \n\nHe frowned as he reviewed the wish application, attached to the inside of the folder using flimsy foldable prongs at the top. \n\n> I wish I may, I wish I might, get an A on my test tomorrow.\n\nOh, that's just too bad he glanced over the the rest of the application form. Seems this was submitted 8 years ago. She probably isn't even in school anymore\n\nHe pulled the stamp pad across his desk, and with a trained motion hurriedly smacked the stamp into the pad then on the front of the folder.\n\nDENIED\n\nHe didn't even remember the last wish he granted. There were so many now, and not enough wishclerks. Often a wish had a processing delay of years, only rarely being expedited by people with \"ins\" to the Department of Wish Processing (DOWP). \n\nOur nameless DOWP agent slumps in his chair, dropping the folder in his OUT box before grabbing the next.", "\"Another wish fueled by greed, just once I wish to assist someone who deserves it. Someone with a pure heart and soul\"\n\"You do not get to pick who it is you bring fortune to Amir, that is not the way our ancestors have done and it will not be the way it happens today. Go on and fulfill your duties and return to me for your next assignment\"\nAmir travels to Ulton, furioulsy fighting within himself along the way. He reaches a great old tree with a single eagle sitting atop the tallest branch overlooking each movement he makes. The beauty, the power, the all seeing, ever alert eagle. Amir notices the eagle start to move about, ready to take off in an instant. \"If only i could be so free\".\nUlton is located in the valley of two mountain ranges, isolating it from the outside. The journey to reach Ulton is one Amir has traveled many times but, it is difficult. The village itself is beautiful. The town's cover the buildings with decorations every day no matter the occasion, as if they were hiding something underneath. \nAmir meets a young boy, who reminds him of himself in a lot of ways. He can tell the boy has the will of a warrior and the heart of all hearts. \"What is it you wish my son?\"\nI wish to be free.\n\"What keeps you from feeling free?\"\nI wish to feel like the flying eagle. The one who soars high, without a care or worry. He is secure, top of the kingdom overlooking others purveying hope. \nAmir can not believe his eyes the boy is transforming. Wings start to emerge and feathers start to cover the boys body, but he is not afraid. The boy welcomes the change knowing this is his journey. When the evolution is complete the eagle looks at Amir and in that moment he sees his resentment dissipate. This is his calling. He is the eagle soaring high, giving hope. \n\n\n\nFirst time writing in far too long. Thanks op", "The 17th of March, 2015. As special as any of the others, but there it is in all it's glory displayed on the elevator display. Catering to the needs of those who really care which day it is. Oddly enough, there does seem to be something rather off putting about this day in particular. But who am I to say I haven't felt the same every other day. The date disappears, replaced by Floor 76.\n\nIt's a rather difficult concept to explain, or at least, it was difficult for myself to comprehend. This building is known as the Earth Building, 365 floors. Each floor has agents assigned to a day. Having never been to any of the other floors, nor caring enough to venture there I can't confirm this. My only concern is my case for today. Speaking of which...\n\nGenius. This one thinks he's a genius. And of course, I'm the one who's assigned to him. Am I the only one who gets the cases like these? He's made over a hundred wishes while gazing at Thurmattle alone, if I remember correctly. I haven't bothered looking over them all, there's no point in cases like these. No matter though, suppose it's time to get to it.\n\nHe's aware of our appointment. His choice of meeting seems to be the same spot he chooses to make those ridiculous requests of his. Just at the top of a rather underwhelming hill, trodden down only along a single path where cyclists and runners alike likely choose to pass most often. Looking at him from far, I have a rather profound feeling of uneasiness.\n\n\"Are you Roger?\" I asked, curtly. He was looking my way, but still appeared startled for a brief moment before seemingly losing himself in thought once again. His eyes, though bright, and alert, seemed to be drooping. His lips seemed to lack any sign of being used in the action of what some might call smiling. The young man didn't seem to be a man of melancholy. He seemed to be a man of loss, defeat. \"I am, and you're my agent,\" he replied, in a calm, mild mannered tone. \"That's right, so you're aware of our business today then cor-\"... \"I am,\" he said, looking back at me with eyes I should feel no recognition towards. Yet I did.\n_____\nThe agent looked at me, mouth gaping. Fear in his eyes. Is this how it normally is? I simply confirmed I know about our business. He's here to grant a wish of my choosing. It's pretty standard for us here on Earth as of a few years ago. On everbody's 13th birthday, we have one of our wishes granted. One wish for the entirety of our lifetime.\n_____\n(I can't finish this now... I'll have to come back to it later. I recognize it's bad but, it's my first time trying!)", " Good evening Mr 1. Do you have a minute to talk about your lord and savior Circinus?\n\n\"... Huh, What are you talking about? \"\n\nOn Nov 1st of last year you made a request to Lord Circinus. and I quote \"I wish that I had a clear path to guide me through life.\" Well Lord Circinus has heard your wish and has come up with a stellar* solution.* \n\n\"I'm usually pretty good about remembering my conversations with people.\" I said. \"Are you sure I've talked to, um, what's his name again. \n\n\"Circinus, and yes we're sure. Though he's not a person per say. He's a star.\"\n\n\"I haven't heard of any movies with him in it\" I reply \n\n\"No no no, an actual star he glows and to you appears as a dot in the night sky.\"\n\n\"What?!\" \n\n\"He's the compass star and before you go asking any questions about how he heard your wish we have got a fulfilling life lined up for you. Normally people have silly wishes they send him, true love or some such drivel. They really should look to a love star.\"\n\n\"So you have a life plan for me?\" I don't normally talk to crazies but this man does seem to know exactly what I want. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"You are going to be a Google street view camera car driver, Also you'll be starting next Tuesday. Mr C, has been a big fan of their tech lately as he is in the business of making sure that people know where they're going.\"\n\n\"but\" I start.\n\n\"No buts,\" he continues \"We've got a couple of girls looking for a guy that only shows up a few times a week to keep you company at night. Like I said some people really need to ask a different star. Anyway here's your ticket to china they don't have good street view coverage there.\"\n\nAs I stared dumbfounded with a ticket in my hand. I wondered what I should pack. \n\n", "I was always one of those people who said \"I'll sleep when I'm dead\". Unfortunately, I was making a few incorrect assumptions about what would actually be happening when I died.\n\nI've been at working since I arrived. I have yet to figure out exactly how the system works, but it seems like being an angel is kinda just being one of God's many assistants or secretaries. I'm starting to think I should have treated Judy better at the law firm. Maybe then I'd have been placed with some better responsibilities.\n\nHowever, I didn't treat Judy with much respect, or anything for that matter - I didn't really know anything about the woman. \n\nSo I had been placed in the wish department. Not the prayer department or even the dreams department. Now don't get me wrong, I had been putting in an honest effort once I got a feel for the system. I had moved up out of wishbones and birthday candles. Those were really tough. The problem with these wishes is that they are made mostly by small children. And what's the problem with small children, you may ask? Well nothing in most cases, but they just don't wish for realistic things. I can't just be producing forty thousand ponies a day, or monster trucks, or dinosaurs for that matter. Someone would question it. You'd probably get a firm talking to after the first hundred T-Rex's began terrorizing birthday parties.\n\nAnyways, I managed. I did my job and disappointed a lot of children. I thought I was being promoted when I was moved to shooting stars, but now I'm starting to think I'm just getting shuffled around. You see, no one wishes on shooting stars. Between light pollution, excellent prime time programming, and cell phone flashlights, people just aren't looking up long enough anymore. So, right now, I do a whole lot of nothing. That's why I started keeping this journal. Who knew the afterlife would be so familiar? \n\nWell! Speak of the devil (just a figure of speech)! I've got a wish coming in now!\n\nI hardly believe this myself, but it's Judy. My secretary. From the looks of it, she lives outside the city, in a little cottage. I never would have guessed, she always seemed very metropolitan. She's lying out in a hammock with a drink. I didn't really take her for the drinking in a hammock in the country on a Tuesday night sorta person. What do I know?\n\nAlright, let's pull up her wish.\n\n\"I must be drunk, wishing on a shooting star. Well, what should I wish for. Hmmm. Do I only get one wish? Fireflies would be nice. But no, gotta do something better. Ha, listen to me, this wishing is serious business...\n\nI guess...well...I dunno. Mr. Hawthorne's\" (that's me! that's me!) \"daughter seemed so lost when she came in today. She's got those puffy red eyes all the time now, I had almost forgotten what she looked like before. I've always thought she was such a spoiled brat, but I wouldn't wish that grief of anyone. I guess I wish that she finds some peace and solace in her father's passing. Grows from it in someway.\"\n\nI continue to watch her after she stops wishing. She closes her eyes, and a smile relaxes across her face.\n\nThe thing about wishes is we are almost always obligated to grant selfless ones. Luckily, there isn't a little girl in the world who wishes her friend could have a pony. \n\nSo, I grant her wish. I'm very grateful for it too, cause in my current placement, this is the one window I get to see my daughter until I've fully ascended. I write up the wish fulfillment, and send it off for approval.\n\nThen I turn back to Judy and watch her. She sways in the hammock as a gentle breeze blows through. The fireflies appear like stardust, and she breathes in deep." ]	5
	[WP] You are stuck inside of a GIF.	[ "I open my arms to receive her for the thousandth time, and I know exactly how everything plays out step-by-step: She's kneeling by the garden in our front lawn, tending to the beautiful multi-colored roses she takes so much pride in growing. I quietly sneak up on the grass, looking at her family recording the surprise as her family distracts her with conversation near the flowers. I utter a quiet \"Hello\", and she turns around with a look of disbelief before she breaks into tears. I open my arms wide, a wide happy grin overwhelms my face as I see her running toward me. It takes exactly 10 steps from the moment she turns around to see me as I surprise her to her hugging me so tightly my cover flies off my head. Her parents cheer; her dad tries his best to keep the camera still while she wraps her arms around me, kissing me like she's never kissed me before. It's been 9 months since I deployed, and that's a long while to test a relationship against the sands of time. She can't stop crying, and exactly three seconds later, I wipe the tear from her cheek and whisper to her that everything will be okay. Then I get to start all over again.\n\nI see her every now and then. It used to be far more frequently--hell, practically every day when she first started--but I'm happy to say I don't see her the way she used to be when we'd meet on a regular basis: eyes puffed up and red from crying, nose raw and red from the tissues I told her not to use since they cause her irritation, tears trailing down her face like a faucet with an irreparable leak. Now I'm so fortunate to see her smiling with such warmth and remembrance, because I know now that she's become stronger, and accepted the reality of things.\n\nI know I can't talk to her, or reach through the computer screen to tell her how proud I am of her for being such a strong, beautiful person, but every time this .gif loads I re-enact the day I came home to her unscathed despite the sheer horror the war had to throw my way the best way I know how. I swear, for as long as she continues to visit me I'm going to tell her that everything will be okay like it was the first time all over again.", " No. I wish it to end. I'm sick of this. I can't go on much longer!\n\n I thought it would be fun. I could be famous, stuck inside a GIF! It seemed like a good thing at the time, but i was wrong. \n\n After hours and hours of being stared at, laughed at, because of my face, I realized it was not going to end. It's torture. I can't do anything; I'm stuck repeating the exact same action over and over again. It is NOT fun. I'm so bored and alone. \n\n Please help me. Please! I can't escape. I can't do anything. Nobody hears my agony.\n\n I'm not the only one. I speak for all other GIFs. Please help us. We're people too.", "Her head hurt. She opened her eyes to view a room she had never seen before. The floor was hard and glossy, and just in front of her sat an intense looking man at a plain wooden desk. He wore a blue suit, and tie, and sported an unnaturally bushy mustache, and no less luxuriant of a haircut. Not unlike a lion on the prowl, his piercing blue eyes never moved from hers, and he sat upright in his chair with one tense hand holding a pen upright off the desk surface, ready to pounce at any moment.\n\n\"Who are you?\" she asked, \"and what time is it? I really need to get to work.\" The man swept the pen up to his face as if to say something, but paused for a moment instead.\n\n\"I don't believe you\" he said matter-of-factly, giving the pen a flick.\n\n\"Oooookaaaay, well I don't know you, but it was nice meeting you, and if you'll show me the exit, I'll see myself out.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you\" he said matter-of-factly, giving the pen another flick. She frowned at him, then stood up and started to make her way to the desk.\n\n\"Seriously, who are you? If this is a joke, the punch line better come soon, because the is not my house, I have no idea who you are, or where I am, and I'm frankly a bit pissed off.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you\" he said matter-of-factly, giving the pen another flick.\n\nWho was this guy?" ]	3
	[WP] Google has been acquired by Facebook - all actions performed while signed in are now pay-per-use including searches and email.	[ "After arguing for what felt like hours over late fees on services that had been free his whole life, Jim typed in Yahoo.com for the first time. \"Hm,\" he said, \"not that much different.\"\n\nJust then, a human-sized portal ripped through the spacetime continuum, and out stepped a squadron of heavily armored and heavily armed combat units. Their suits looked futuristic, sporting shades of white and blue, brandishing the logo, \"Faceboogle.\"\n\n\"Jim Garrett, your crimes of violating the seventh protocol on exterior threat usage must be retroactively accounted for. Our internal investigation has pinpointed us to the moment you began to use the terrorist organization's website. What say you in your past and present transgressions?\"\n\n\"What..? I'm just using Yahoo.com, and what are you doi--\"\n\n\"Jim Garrett, citizen of year 2015, you are to be detained for crimes against the United States of Corporations. Scanners indicate that you participated in a Net Neutrality activist activity in a retroactive Verizon governed zone. You now have two counts of ultralawlessness. You must pay $100 in cash immediately or face further sentencing.\"\n\n\"You're not... making any sense, what the fuck--\"\n\n\"He's questioning authority. He's a cyberpunk, already, by the god's name. It's a Section 10. Unit 2, stabilize him.\"", "Maike always was made fun of for boycotting Google. But then, when the charges started, this stopped. Within just a few days, having a GMail address stopped being an in thing and instead was about on the same level of embarrassing as an AOL email. Yandex, YaCY, and even Bing were used for searching. The Open Streetmap Project was used instead of Maps. Diaspora started to replace Facebook and Google+. The world had become much freer. And once Facebook went bankrupt, there was much rejoycing." ]	2
You are asked to speak at the execution of a childhood friend. You had long lost contact with them after moving out of the area, yet you have only fond memories of them. This person committed a mass shooting, yet they seem to have only targeted those who bullied them. There is an angry crowd of people at this execution and you fear consequence for speaking kindly. What do you say?	[WP] Last words to a murderer.	[ "One by one each of the family members of the so called victims goes up to the podium to speak about how horrendous Jessie's crimes are. All of them come to a repetitive norm of speaking out against him saying things along the lines of, \"My child just graduated and had so much to live for, and you took that away from him you.. you.. monster.\" As more and more family members go up the crowd gets more vicious towards him calling him out on things and deepening the blow. The way that I saw it, Jessie was bullied through out high school. He didn't didn't do anything to anyone. He was mostly quiet except when me and him were hanging out at the park or at each others house. I got to see the side that no one else got to see. The most intelligent and generous human being that I have ever met. While we grew up together since five years old, the bullying from kids got worse. I remember us sneaking out at night and playing hide and seek or breaking into abandoned houses to smoke cigarettes and laughing the night away. One night on a school night I remember swinging on the swing set at the local elementary school park. Smoking cigarettes while paranoid that a cop would come around the corner patrolling.\n\"You know Jessie. You're the strongest person I know. I've seen all the assholes at school saying vicious things to you and you just take it. I know it hurts, it's got to. I don't know what I would do in your shoes. I probably wouldn't be able to take it,\" I told him. I've seen him cry and witnessed him try to harm himself. After rehabilitation the doctors told him that he should be okay from then on. Telling them that now he has tools to use to help him cope with the bullying and threats constantly spit at him. Even then I knew that everything wasn't okay. I loved him like a brother and couldn't stand to see him like that so I did the best I could to make him smile and help keep him sane. After all he is my best friend, that's what best friends do for each other.\n\"Yeah. I guess we're all strong in our own ways.\" He said confidently. Even in a life of bullying all the way up to now in his senior year, he still stood strong. Then he turned to me and looked at me very grim and continued. \"I could be the strongest person you know, but even the strongest man in the world has a breaking point. And when those people that are that strong break, it is catastrophic. Because even the strongest break.\"\nEven then I should have known something was going through his head. He was planning something. Something devastating. As my name was called and I had to go up there to speak for the people and the crowd to give my word people were patting me on the back saying, \"Give him hell.\" As I climbed the stairs to the podium I was stopped by my Mom who gave me a hug and told, \"I know he's your best friend but do what's right.\" My vision tunneled in on her I looked through her that she was conforming to this madness. I knew the whole town would hate us and punish us, egg our house and maybe do other juvenile things to us if I spoke good about him.\nMy heart pounded in my chest. I took hold of the podium and looked out amongst the crowd and almost froze. I looked at my mom who gave me a grim look. And at the rest of the families who were crying that they lost their child. I turned around and looked at the firing squad that were aiming their rifles at Jessie, my childhood friend who was just bullied. I opened my mouth to bash my best friend and call him a monster and I heard my mom's voice in my head say \"Do what's right.\" I closed my mouth and erased all the bad thoughts out of my head. And put my head down and almost cried.\n\"Jessie and I grew up together. We had so many great memories and while I haven't talked to him in a minute I can only blame myself for his monstrous acts. Even though his actions speak louder than words he is a good person.\" I said and the crowd gasped. \"He taught me so many things,\" I looked directly at the victim's families and scolded. \"what you all are seeing is the worst of it. Some kid who just graduated high school murdered thirty something kids with a gun. You guys see it as a killing spree. He sees it as revenge. But before you ostracize him and put the blood on his hands remember that at one point in his life he tried to kill himself because of your son or daughter who bullied him first. Remember that he was the one taking the abuse. And oh lord did he hate the school shootings that were popping up all around us. He dared not stoop to that crooked level. There's a bright side for everything. And you can't seriously believe that he went after innocence. His innocence was lost long time ago when he was called 'faggot' or 'bitch' or even 'retard' because he didn't act the same. HE DIDN'T CONFORM.\" I took a breath and turned around to look at Jessie, who was smiling at me and crying. \"All of you, are just as bad as you call him if you're going to kick him while he's already down. He made bad decisions, but that doesn't make him any less human than we are. We are all strong, and he took the beatings and the abuse for thirteen years before he broke. Because no matter how strong you are, we all break.\" I walked away from the podium to receive astonishing results of an applaud and then silence as the commands resumed. \"Ready, Aim, Standby....\" I turned and mouthed to Jessie who was staring at me and smirked and he mouthed \"Love you brother.\"\n\"Fire!\"", "The Execution, Part I\n\nI didn't know about it, at first. I'd been at the lab extremely late and when I finally reached into my pocket for my keys, I realized my door was already unlocked.\n\nMy heart thumped, adrenalin seeping into my system. No one had a copy of my keys, in fact I ensured that since I left home when I was nineteen. I just started dating again, and my girlfriend, Pheobe, had recently asked for some space. I was on my own with my two fish, Flubber and Tiddywinkles. Who could possibly be here...?\n\nWith some apprehension I gently pushed the door in with my fingertips, hearing voices emanating from my bedroom. Someone was... crying? My first thought was a peculiar one - don't let your victims cry, you idiot - but immediately pushed it aside because my mother was standing in my kitchen, shoulders bunched and face hidden beneath her hands.\n\n\"Mom? Holy fuck, what are you doing here? How did you get inside?\"\n\nShe peeked between her fingers, a frail bird scoping out its environment. \"Oh, pumpkin,\" she trembled, \"I am so sorry.\" Wrinkling my nose at the old pet name, I stepped fully into the room and locked the door behind me. I felt, rather than saw, my sister leave my bedroom and embrace our mother. All my old anxieties started swimming beneath my skin and without saying anything I shoved past them, dumping my jacket and keys onto the couch. \n\nI took a deep breath, counted to nine, and turned around. \"Okay, someone explain what's going on. It's late and I have to return to work really early because of a project we're working on and I haven't had sleep for two nights.\"\n\nMy sister released my mother and wiped her eyes. Her wedding rings glinted dully in the low light of the fluorescents. Old hatreds, old rivalries, reached from my past like an octopus grabbing prey. I ignored them, and focused on her fingernails, oddly not manicured. When she finally spoke, her voice was clear.\n\n\"Charlie, do you remember our neighbors? The Joneses? And their son Michael?\"\n\nI nodded, images of shooting BBs into the local creek bursting into my memory. One of the few close friends I had, although I was friendly with many.\n\n\"Well, he's in jail.\" Unsurprising; by our senior year, I heard he had fallen into unfortunate company and found himself addicted to all kinds of concoctions. I tried as hard as I could to support him, but our father and uncle passing away unexpectedly in an accident did much to hinder our friendship. \n\n\"What's that got to do with me?\" I shrugged and circled around behind my mother, who'd commenced crying again. I automatically started to make a cup of coffee, despite the clock on the stove blaring midnight. Junie loved coffee - it was her vice, but not mine, I only used it to wake up. She could, and thoroughly, relished in its seduction at any hour. \n\n\"Charlie,\" and here was the hesitation I didn't want to hear, \"Charlie, Michael took an automatic to the mall and killed fourteen people.\"\n\nI don't remember the coffee pot leaving my hands, just suddenly being aware of hundreds of shards at my feet, warm liquid seeping into my shoes. Like the ink of a squid I saw recently at the local aquarium, I thought absently. Pheobe was there. It was our first kiss.\n\n\"Oh Charmander, oh charmander, c'mere,\" Junie soothed, grasping my arm and escorting me to my room. I sat on the edge of my bed, and she knelt down, gently massaging my hands. After ten years she still remembered my hands prickled when I was anxious or shocked, leftover from the accident with our dad. Feeling her hands warm mine, and feeling more vulnerable than I had since the double funeral, I buried my head into her neck. Her neck smelled like sage; I wondered briefly if she had cooked her family dinner before coming here.\n\n\"Oh Char, oh char,\" she murmured, embracing me. My chest was tight; my throat constricted; my eyes burned. Michael? Why Michael? We had been close buddies. He had taught me how to shoot. He showed me how to catch pollywogs, crawfish daddies, and how to swim. We were inseparable for years. \n\n\"According to police reports, he had a specific list. They haven't found connections yet, but they want you to come in and talk them. Tomorrow afternoon, in fact. Which is why we came over so late. Took awhile to find this place, I'll tell you,\" she forced a laugh. I half-smiled against her skin and moved to examine Junie. While she wasn't close with Michael, his stepsister was sociable with her, sharing a few classes in high school. They shared freshman year in college together, before she transferred to another one out-of-state. Junie never did explain why.\n\n\"Are you okay? How's Sheba?\" \n\nAnother hesitation. \"She... didn't make it.\" Her gaze floundered. \"She wasn't on the list, but a stray bullet nicked her. She died en route.\"\n\n\"Fuck.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\nWe stared at the carpet together. I couldn't tell what Junie was thinking. We'd seen each other a handful of times over the past ten years, mostly around holiday seasons or important occasions. She was a minister, had two kids, a small but quaint house, and a supportive husband who was well-respected as a local councilman. I worked as a researcher in a lab, dated sporadically and had two pet fish named for two exes with distinctive sexual techniques. Sisters couldn't lead more different lives.\n\n\"What happens now?\" I eventually managed. My mother replied, to my surprise; she had moved to the doorway while Junie and I contemplated thread counts.\n\n\"You'll go down to the police station, of course.\" Her eyes, bloodshot, did a casual sweep of my room. \"After tidying up. When was the last time you did laundry?\"\n\n\"Monday. It wasn't me, it was Pheobe.\"\n\n\"Pheobe? A new girlfriend?\" A smile ghosted on her lips.\n\n\"Uhhh. Yeah. We met online.\" Tinder, but I wasn't going to explain that.\n\n\"Sounds like a future discussion over brunch.\" Mom reached for some clothes draped on my dresser. \"New underwear too? You must really like her.\"\n\n\"Mom. Jeez. This is not the time. Seriously. What am I supposed to do?\"\n\nMy mom settled next to me. \"Well, you will need to talk to the police, like I said. You'll probably have to give a statement, and depending on what happens with the trial, you might have to testify. I'm no lawyer, and as much as I loved your father, didn't pay much attention to the cases he brought home.\" She exhaled slowly. \"Either way, your sister and I... we're going to do our best. I don't know the extent of your relationship with Michael, but you're probably going to face a lot of media in the next few weeks.\"\n\nI could sense some discomfort. \"And that will mean...\" I let the sentence dangle, unintentional bait.\n\n\"It will mean we're going minimize contact with you until this is all over.\" My stomach plummeted. I knew that we hadn't been on close terms, but to deliberately wipe that opportunity away struck me hard.\n\nJunie piped up, \"For the next couple days we're going to stay here, we'll formulate a plan, and call a lawyer, just in case. I'll leave for church Sunday, like always, and then we'll keep phone calls limited. No visits, no letters, no social media. We love you, but we're at risk ourselves. And I can't really afford the attention,\" she paused, fidgeting, \"Scott's up for re-election.\"\n\nI groaned. \"Perfect.\" \n\nJunie shrugged. \"Politics.\"\n\nMom chimed in. \"Painful.\"\n\nJunie started to smile. \"Purposefully.\"\n\nI shook my head in disagreement. \"Pathetically.\"\n\n\"No, preposterously!\"\n\n\"Punitively!\"\n\n\"Palatably!\"\n\nWe fell into semi-hysterical giggles, punctuating each word with more snorts and chuckles until our throats were dry. Our mom shook her head in amusement, and with a mutual silent agreement, we all stood. \n\n\"So, is all your stuff here or...?\" \n\nJunie affirmed, \"We put our suitcases in your closet so they'd be out of the way. Your landlord's super nice, by the way.\"\n\nI raised my eyebrows. \"What did you tell her? I can't imagine a mass shooting going over very well.\"\n\nMom grimaced. \"No, we just said a family emergency - there was a death, and we needed to get inside your apartment. She was quite accommodating. Lovely eyes,\" she added as an afterthought.\n\nJunie rolled her eyes. 'Matchmaker,' she mouthed, and my stomach warmed. Whatever she thought of my sexuality, it didn't seem to matter. We were sisters again.\n\n(part II coming up)" ]	2
	[WP] Write a story about a love triangle	[ "Brette masked herself with hulking, cheap aviators. Her hair fell in careless, salty, and fake blue curls. Strips of sunlight peeked through the interstices of the boardwalk above and cast sunlit stripes across us. Shoes creaked and crashed against the wood and I heard cheap skee-balls rolling above us and waves rolling in front of us. A family stopped as they were coming out from the arcade. One of their kids started bawling. Brette stared up through the boards and lit a cigarette and coughed on the first drag. We both wore this morning’s hangover.\n\n“I really wish that he didn’t think this whole thing was a big deal.”\n\n“Well what do you want me to do about it?”\n\n“Talk some sense into him, I guess. Tell him it won’t be all that bad. Just look at Eric. Eric took it all right and now he’s off banging some summertime blond like nothing ever happened between us.”\n\n“Luke is—sensitive. Yeah, sensitive.”\n\n“Well whoop-de-fucking-do.” She flicked her long cigarette out onto the sand and coughed again. A seagull picked at it and then flew away with the cigarette in its beak. The mother scolded him and he talked back. The cheap arcade sound effects drowned out the smack. “I thought he knew what he was getting into.”\n\n“Luke wouldn’t know what he wanted in a woman if it hit him in the face with a two by four. You should have realized that before you started with him.”\n\n“Whatever, Nick. I thought he understood. Jesus, just jump on the fucking bandwagon, why don’t you?”\n\n“I don’t mean it like that, I’m just saying, you know, that he’s not really suited for flings. He always tries to marry the girl. That’s all he wants. He’d marry his sister if he dated her.”\n\n“Pfft, what a pussy.” She laughed and looked at me. “Why can’t more guys be like you, Nick? You get me. We both want the same things.”\n\nI fixed my cheap aviators. “Most people aren’t assholes.”\n\n“No, most people just aren’t honest about being assholes.”\n\n“We’re still talking about me, right?”\n\n“Fuck you, yeah we still are.” She looked back above through the boards. The mother drug her child away by the arm we were left the crying fading into the monotonous drumming of flip-flops against the cured wood.\n\n“Just don’t hurt him. I love Luke, I really do, I just don’t want you to hurt him.”\n\n“I won’t make any promises.”\n\n“No, do it. Promise me. I think I’ve earned that.”\n\n“Fuck you, you haven’t earned shit from me.” She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. They were hard, fossilized amber. “Ah shit, I didn’t mean it like that, Nick.”\n\n“Whatever, it’s fine. Look, I’ve got to go anyway. I told Rachel I’d meet her back at the apartment.”\n\n“No, come on, stay a little longer. She won’t care if you’re late.”\n\n“I promised her. Look, just don’t tell him it’s me, alright?”\n\n“Then tell me that you love me.”\n\n“I love you. I’ve got to go.” I hated doing that—lying to her. I liked everything else, but lying to her always gave me a bad aftertaste. But really, what else am I supposed to do? I felt my sunglasses slide down again so I pushed them back up and put back on my shorts and shirt.\n", "\"What the hell is that?\" Her pretty face distorted with revolted anger.\n\n\"It's a 'Love Triangle,'\" I answered, holding the strange artefact towards her. Sarah pulled back further, eyeing my gift suspiciously. This anniversary dinner has definitely taken a sudden turn for the worse.\n\n\"A what?\" Sarah was unconvinced.\n\n\"A Love Triangle,\" a tinge of desperation now in my voice. Why the hell didn't I just buy the damned flowers I was going to. \"The gypsy lady at the market said it was a powerful symbol of true love.\" \n\n\"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!\" She pushed her chair back and stood up. \n\n\"Sarah wait!\" I also stood. \"Please, just take the Triangle.\"\n\n\"My mother was right about you,\" her pale blue eyes narrowed. I fell back into my chair. It seemed that more than just dinner was over. \"Our first anniversary and you give me GEOMETRY!\" She ripped the Triangle from my hand and raised it above her head. Every eye in the restaurant now transfixed on her. Dinner and a show, I thought, humiliation burned red across my face. I looked down, not wishing to see the contentious object smashed to the ground.\n\nBut it never smashed. \n\nI looked up into Sarah's face - her anger completely gone. She gazed dreamily at the Triangle and then at me. I wondered if she noticed the Triangle glowing slightly. Her eyes focused on me and the mischievous smile that I first fell in love with appeared.\n\n\"We need to go, right NOW!\" The intensity of her voice startled me as she grabbed my hand, dragging me towards the door. \n\n\"Cheque please!\" I dropped a handful of notes on the table as Sarah dragged me out of the restaurant, my heart pounding.\n\nLove Triangle indeed I thought, God bless that gypsy lady!\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are the last person in your country not on Facebook, and they are getting progressively less subtle in getting you to create an account.	[ "This... is getting out of hand. But that is fine.\n\nI sign on to Tumblr. What is my dash filled with? Passive-aggressive posts from my friends about how, oh, Russia is only one citizen short of becoming completely Facebookinalized! Oh, I wonder when the last one will get off his lazy ass and create an account?\n\nReddit. The front page of /r/Russia is flooded with I am last man! Cykas, I will never make account! Or I will create last Facebook and Facebookinalize Russia, only in return for gold!\n\nThey all know my account name. It is all one ridiculous ploy, engineered to push my patience until it snaps. Is it not enough to have a Tumblr, a Twitter, a Reddit account? Facebookinalize. The sooner this word dies out, the better.\n\n... I am the only one who can force its death, and the knowledge is too sweet.\n\nEven as President Obama of the United States visits me so many times, urging me to comply with the masses, I deny him. As the world ignores the stirrings of war underfoot in preference of the one missing Facebook account in Russia, I deny them. All I need is time, and every denial is another day.\n\nA lot can happen in a day. Missiles can be armed, enemy missiles can be disarmed, troops can be stationed, land rightfully under Russian rule can be reclaimed. All I must do is refuse these mindless apes in their game, and I can claim victory in my own.\n\nI stare at my screen, resisting the bubbles of laughter threatening to burst forth from my throat. The Facebook sign-in page shines at me, thinking itself seductive. Thinking a man of my caliber could ever fall for such meager temptations.\n\n\"Владимир, сэр, это время, чтобы начать вторжение?\" My secretary is beside me. How he snuck upon me so well, I do not know. I give an embarrassingly erratic jerk of my hand, closing out the Facebook page before he can see it. What was that he asked? Ah, if I am ready to claim the world. Or, better put, if I am prepared to receive what I am meant to have.\n\nI nod. He nods back, and I can see the fear in his eyes. He thinks I am brash. I may have him executed. Of course, after he passes the order along; mayhaps tomorrow.. He mentions something about Facebook as he walks briskly away, and I am dumbfounded at his stupidity. The execution date will be today.\n\nI pull up the sign-in page again and type my name into boxes that seem to grow more radiant in joy as I fulfill their desires. Vladimir Putin. \n\nI delete the words.\n\nLet them wait one more day. It is all I need.", "Lungs burning. Legs aching. He can't go on much longer. \n\nIt had started out relatively innocuous. Overly friendly strangers at the bar. Friends showing off stacks upon stacks of their latest vacation pictures. But he knew what they really wanted. \n\nIt wasn't that he was a particularly unfriendly person; he just wanted some privacy is all. He knew how the network reached out, how it gathered, how it enslaved. \n\nThings didn't remain innocent for long. The brick, now that was subtle. Smashing through his window at three in the morning, with a crude note attached: \"John wants to be your friend. Accept?\". It was then that he knew he had to get out. Find somewhere where Facebook hadn't reached. Hell, maybe even where the internet itself was unknown. \n\nThey caught him at the airport. His efforts at privacy were all for naught. Turns out, when everyone else is connected, you have no secrets. Like a cheesy zombie movie, the mass moved behind him relentlessly.\n\nHe stumbles. Unable to recovery, the stumble turns into a fall. Before he has a chance to stand, the crowd has him surrounded. That's when he feels it. Was he stabbed? No. Jabbed maybe? Not quite. A poke! The damn poke. He feels his very soul pierced as dozens, no, hundreds of pokes rain down upon him. \n\nEt tu, Zuckerberg?", "\"FRIEND REQUEST!!!\"\n\nJerry was startled, but used to it.\n\n\"Dude get the fuck outta my trunk!\"\n\nThe kid scrambled out of Jerry's Charger and ran off.\n\nJerry could only shake his head as he put his twelve pack of Shiner in his car.\n\nHe looked up.\n\nOverhead, a plane was circling...with a banner behind it. \n\n\"Join us, Jerry\", it read...\n\nDamnit. he thought. Jerry wasn't a technophobe, he just...didn't need it. He lived alone, his parents were long dead, no kids, he worked a security shack at a warehouse...he didn't need it.\n\nHe had gotten used to the needling --\"Would you like friends with that?\" the overly chipper drivethru girl had asked him this morning at the drive thru, but the last two weeks had been intense. He had been pulled over last night, the cop, a burly woman of about 40, sauntered up to his window with her phone out. The grocery store, the bank, even the electronic ticker outside of city hall, all for him...\n\n\nHe was tired. \n\nHe went home. In his mailbox were two envelopes, one from a cable company, and the other, a mailer from an electronic store.\n\nAs he unlocked his door and stepped in, he noticed a red envelope on the floor. Someone had slid it under while he was gone. \n\nSigh\n\n", "The old lady smiled. \n\n\"Oh no, dear. I don't need facebook. That's all too complicated for me.\" \n\nThat was the second young man she met that day, who asked about facebook. First it started out with her friends and family wanted to add her as a \"friend\", but later even the people in the neighbourhood started bugging her about it. And frankly, she was getting tired of it. All that modern nonsense. Especially that facebook website, she heard the government uses it to spy on people. Well, not on her, she would make sure. \n\n\"But how are you going to keep connected to your grandkids? What about your newborn granddaughter?\"\n\nShe laughed at the man's concerns. \"My son has put a really nice program on my computer. I believe he calls it skype. I can even see them! Isn't it fantastic?\"\n\nThen something dawned on her. How could that man know about her new granddaughter? That was odd...\n\nThe rest of the week she got overrun by people. The nice young lady asked if she wanted to see her wedding pictures, but when she said yes, the lady began talked about that silly facebook website again. That evening she called her son and asked him if she could come see the baby: even he told her the pictures were on facebook. But the more she thought about it, the more she was certain she wasn't going to go to that facebook site. She went to bed and thought nothing about the strange occurences. \n\nShe woke to the doorbell ringing and got up. Maybe it was her son paying her a visit! But he shouldn't come so early! \nWhen she opened the door she saw not her son, but a buff man with a gun, which he pointed to her head.\n\n\"We would like to invite you to join us on facebook,\" he said, with a grim look on his face.\n\n\"Oh, dear!\"", "\"Hey Joe, do you go by Joseph, Joey, or Joe on Facebook? I'm trying to tag you in this picture and I can't find your profile.\"\n\n\"You know I don't have a Facebook, Jack.\"\n\n\"Oh I thought you may have gotten one since I last asked.\"\n\n\"You mean 10 minutes ago...\"\n\n\"Why don't you just get a Facebook, Joe. Don't you care about what you're high school friends are up to nowadays.\" \n\n\"If I gave a shit I'd have kept in touch. But I've moved on and don't care about the daily updates of my high school prom date, I'm sorry. Do you actually get some sort of satisfaction from having 1,000 friends on Facebook?\"\n\n\"100,000.\"\n\n\"The fuck!?! are you friends with all of Rhode Island?\"\n\n\"Facebook friends are real friends, Joe.\"\n\n\"I will never get a Facebook.\"\n\nAt that moment a teenager wearing a local skate shop's t shirt approached the cafe table Joe and Jack were sitting at.\n\n\"Hey guys, would you mind liking us on Facebook?\" The boy said as he handed the men flyers.\n\n\"No problem, kid. Sorry about my friend here he doesn't have a Facebook.\" \n\n\"No Facebook?\" The waiter said as he retrieved the pairs coffee cups, \"But how are people suppose to know you're likes and dislikes?\"\n\n\"I don't know, maybe through actual conversation...\"\n\n\"I couldn't help but overhearing that you don't have Facebook,\" a man from the neighboring table chimed in, \"You should really get on that, it's how I met my girlfriend! Well, we haven't actually met yet, but still.\" \n\n\"No, no I'm not getting one stop pressuring me.\" Joe got up from the table and pushed to the mass of people gathering around the cafe.\n\n\"In recent news, Joe has yet to join Facebook,\" the radio broadcaster stated on Joes drive home. He was starting to get freaked out. \n\n\"Maybe I should just join,\" Joe thought to himself, \"what's the harm.\" He was at a red light when the woman in the minivan next to him rolled down her window. She had \"Soccer Mom\" and \"Baby on Board\" stickers on her car.\n\n\"Hey you're Joe, right?\" Joe locked his doors.\n\n\"Look I'd really like to be friends, but I can't friend request you unless you're on Facebook.\" The woman was getting out of her car, holding something behind her back. \n\n\"So for now I'm sorry Joe, but fuck you,\" she scream as she swung the Louisville Slugger she was holding, shattering Joe's windshield.\n\nAt this point Joe was out of his car running down the Main Street of town. People were coming out of the local shops and stores shouting in unison, \"join us.\" Joe had the App Store out and was about to click download next to the Facebook icon when it occurred to him that this was precisely the reason he avoided Facebook. He turned to face the now large mob of people that had formed behind him \n\n\"Don't you see what this app has done to you all? It has taken away your ability to grasp reality and form genuine connections with people. You all get so caught up in profile pictures, likes, relationship statuses, but have failed to truly understand and appreciate the world around you. Take a minute, get to know you're cowokers, friends, and loved ones not just what it says about them on their profiles. Now don't you understand why I'm so against this social media site?\"\n\n\"But..... Farmville,\" said a member of the mob.\n\n\"What's Farmville?\" \n\nThese were Joe's final words before joining Facebook.", "It's not like I ever tried to be rude but sometimes people just don't take the hint. So when Sandy asked me every day last week if I got her invite and twice a day this week I felt like it didn't matter what I say, she was just ignoring me. Who wants to go to someone's home party if they're just ignoring you anyway? You see what I'm saying.\n\nSo she came back to my desk again with her fake I'm-really-happy-to-a-customer's-face smile like clockwork.\n\n\"Hey Chris,\" she said. \n\"Hey.\" I pretend I'm deep into some file and typing really assertively to give her the idea I'm busy and don't have time for chit chat. Just the one word as-friendly-as-is-necessary-to-be-professional reply. My name is Kevin by the way.\n\"So I don't know if you saw my invite on Facebook?\" she phrases it like a question with the little upturn of tone but keeps talking like she didn't punctuate it. God, I hate her. \"I'm having people over this Saturday. Do you want to come?\"\n\nThe thing is I did want to come. I'm kind of new here and I want to get to know some of the people here. They speak highly of Sandy's get togethers so I'm like, why not? I'm kind of a cynical hipster sort, and I don't like popular things or popular people, but my therapist wants me to get past that. But her asking me every got-danged day is really getting on my nerves.\n\nPlus, I'm really new to social media. I started with a Tumblr blog, then that got tired so I went to Reddit. From there I found out more about the point of Twitter and Instagram. But the only things I see from Facebook are pretty ironic - like, people making fun of what others put on Facebook. So at first, yeah, I'm kind of interested. But I'm trying to turn around here so no. I'm not going on Facebook. Google offers something like that but it looks too boring. Nobody's on Google's Facebook. That has an appeal actually, but, I'm not a comp sci nerd and I'm trying NOT to be a hipster.\n\nBut I need a weekend off.\n\n\"No.\" I said and sent off my email to my sister Kris asking her to please text me with plans this weekend exactly when this party was taking place. \"I think I have to take my sister to a thing.\"\n\n\"Oh really? Is she on Facebook?\" \n\n\"What--no, I don't know, Stacy.\"\n\n\"Okay, well it would really help me out if you replied on Facebook even if you weren't coming. We can itemize and arrange for food and drinks easier with a solid count.\"\n\nStop saying Facebook.\n\n\"Yeah, sorry.\" I didn't know what more to do so I took a page from the first world anarchist style of Tyler Durden and just shrugged and didn't break eye contact until she left. I'd have loved it if that were the end of it.\n\nI left work and on the way out, thankfully, Stacy was being held up by some other hens complimenting the banner she used in her invite. I left quickly. On the road the radio had some announcement about Facebook that I turned away from to the new Energy 106 station, which was playing Taylor Swift's new song about hooking up crazily with guys from Facebook.\n\nGod. How did these two words get married together? The first time I heard the word Facebook I imagined someone jamming their face into a book so hard that their face imprinted into the book irrevocably, and became a face book. I turned the radio off.\n\nI get home and turn on the TV and the news is on talking about what some broad on Facebook shared recently - a handicapped woman was given attitude by a rude note, when she had left a note of her own asking someone not to use her handicapped parking space. Noped outta that one.\n\nA waitress was left a huge tip thanks to a widower who only wanted to sit at the table his wife and he used to share on their anniversaries, which went viral on Facebook. Is this what the news is now? Has everyone gotten bored of Ukraine now? Nope. Done. Sorry.\n\nI changed the channel again and some bullshit about upworthy and buzzfeed are there - amazing stories that go viral so quickly. Fucking suckerfish on the belly of the shark that is Facebook. This is really selling me to get on Reddit more. If I had the app for Facebook I'd be uninstalling it. I turned the TV off.\n\nI had dinner and went to bed. The next day is more of the same. I'm not going to your party, sorry Stacy. Yeah I'm not going to get a Facebook just to decline your offer. \n\nJulia from HR asks me why I haven't liked the company on Facebook yet. I told her I'm not on Facebook. She makes a mock pout and goes, \"Aww why not?\" I told her because I have no Facebook. \n\n\"Oh it's so easy! It's a great networking tool. You can follow all kinds of people and join groups and everything. If you Like something, it shows up on your news feed. It just gets better from there.\"\n\n\"Yep.\" I am learning quickly that disagreeing with someone is the fastest way for them to try to correct you, and I just don't have interest in talking about this anymore, full stop.\n\n\"Great!\" she said, then walked off. Did that really solve it? Wow, awesome.\n\nAfter lunch she comes up to me again.\n\n\"Still no like?\" Pouty face.\n\n\"Still no Facebook,\" I said, and began typing furiously. Maybe it'll work this time.\n\n\"You know we get a corporate page if we get enough likes, right?\"\n\n\"Nope,\" I said. One word answers, got to remember those too or the illusion won't get sold properly.\n\n\"Well, we do. We only need a few more!\"\n\n\"Maybe some other people are on Facebook that can like it?\" I suggest.\n\n\"Everyone's on Facebook already. Everyone! Think about it.\"\n\nFriday night is my therapy night. I'm def not going out. I get to bed early - being grumpy from lack of sleep doesn't help cynicism. Saturday is a full day, and I actually do see my sister for lunch. Stacy shows up at the patio restaurant we're at just as we sat down.\n\n\"Hey,\" I greeted her even knowing what was going to happen.\n\n\"Oh is this your sister? Hi!\" They spend a couple minutes ignoring me. I pull my smartphone out and check out the golf \ntournament scores. I'm pulled out of my distraction when Kris says my name.\n\n\"Oh, Chris isn't on Facebook.\"\n\n\"Good thing you are! Haha.\" Stacy said.\n\nI just look at my sister.\n\n\"What? I still foursquare now and then.\"\n\n\"You guys are friends on Facebook?\" I asked Kris.\n\n\"Well no, but I saw she had tagged you here.\" Stacy said.\n\n\"Great,\" I said, sarcastically. I look at her over my glasses. \"Guess I really don't need Facebook then.\"\n\n\"So you can come tonight, right?\" Stacy said.\n\n\"Who the what now?\" I said.\n\n\"Well you're seeing your sister early - so you have time tonight, right?\"\n\n\"Oh. Oh no, we're hanging out tonight,\" Kris said. She's got my back finally.\n\n\"Oh. Okay.\" Stacy said. She said her goodbyes and away she went somewhere.\n\n\nThat night I didn't go out with Kris. She said it's okay because she has a meetup of some sort to go to. So I went home, worked out, and went to sleep.\n\nI dream of an F. The F turns into a graphic display like Architect had in the Matrix, with a thousand screens. Each screen has a video of someone recording their kids or a sporting event or something. There are lots of pictures of food and alcoholic beverages. I turned around and saw a man dressed in white, with white hair and a beard.\n\n\"What the fuck?\" I asked him drearily.\n\n\"Facebook be praised!\" he said. \"We've beaten Google glass to the dream state.\"\n\n\"Nope,\" I said. There wasn't an immediate door nearby but I knew he had to get in this room somehow. \"No way. Not \ndreaming of Facebook.\"\n\n\"No, you're not. But Facebook dreams of you, Chris. Please. Sign up today.\"\n\n\"Fuck off.\" Like I said I'm not trying to be rude.\n\n\"It's free! We have a ghost profile ready for you to assimila--to assign to you.\"\n\n\"I KNEW IT!\" I pointed at him. \"You fuckers are already to tell me who I am and what I like and what I should like! I'm not \ngoing to conform! Fuck you!\"\n\nThe old man looked very sad. \n\n\"Okay,\" he said. \"Well, we'll be waiting for you when you change your mind. Just wait until we release our smartphones! And our condos with the ability to upload pics and videos of your life without you even asking.\"\n\nI woke up. It was 4:42 am. Some loud repetitive noise from outside woke me up. I peek out the window of my townhouse to see a crowd gathered in the parking lot. They're holding their phones - each of them were a shade of blue or white. The blue ones were in an \"f\" shape among the white. It was a peaceful protest.\n\nPeaceful for now.\n\nMy smartphone smashed through the window as I threw it, twirling, then broke into a million pieces on the concrete. I stuck my head through the broken window, into the force of their chant - \"FRIEND REQUEST. FRIEND REQUEST.\"\n\n\"FREEDOM!\" I screamed.\n\nEDIT: formatting", "\"Hey John, this is my friend Vlad\" my buddy Todd exclaimed. I shook Vlad's hand and gave him an awkward \"Hello\" nod. \n\n\"So, uhh, John, have you created a Facebook account yet?\" Todd asked in a forced friendly tone. \n\n\"For the last fucking time, Todd, I'm not going to create a Facebook account!\" I yelled.\n\n\"Hey, hey. No need for anger. However you are literally the last person in the country not to have one.\"\n\n\"I'm very fucking aware of that, Todd, and you ask me about it every goddamn time we hang out. You just won't shut the fuck up about it. In fact I may have gotten one by now if you didn't pester me about it so much.\"\n\n\"Well Vlad here has a Facebook. Are you saying you don't want to connect with Vlad?\"\n\nI just stared at Todd blankly for a moment. \"I mean... I don't have anything against Vlad. He seems like a good guy, it's just... I don't want to read about his (or anyone else's) Crossfit workouts, or about his dinner plans, or about his fake \"x-celebrity has died\" posts, and I certainly don't want to read about which type of cheeseburger he is\"\n\n\"I see.\" Todd said bluntly. His lips were curled into a frown, and his brow was furrowed with frustration, \"Well maybe Vlad can convince you otherwise\" Todd quickly opened the door to his apartment and walked out, leaving Vlad and I alone. Vlad stared at me menacingly, and I took notice of the large muscles that bulged under his thick brown sweater. We stood in uncomfortable silence for a minute or so, and then he finally began to speak:\n\n\"In home country, everyone use Facebook\" Vlad began in a thick East European accent. \"For while, not everybody use Facebook. There was thick opposition of Facebook. In fact I know man, he did not use Facebook. Man like you. One day other man comes to me and say 'I Mark Zuckerburg, kyill man who not use Facebook and you get big money.' 'Ok' I say. So I go to man house and kyill heem. Now Zuckerburg want same for you. Since you friend of Todd, I give you one last chance: Join the the Facebook, or I will kyill you\"\n\nAnd that's why I finally got a Facebook account. ", "Chuck walked over to the ringing, beige phone hanging on the wall of his apartment, its curled wire coming to a stop just above the ground. It had been a while since anyone had called him. The last person was the cable company, whom had attempted to sell him some sort of HBO package or whatnot. He refused, instead spending the better part of an hour explaining to them why he did not own a television, and how important it was that he remained off the grid.\n\n“Hello?” Chuck said, lifting the phone off of its receiver and grabbing its long, curled cable. He spun it between his fingers.\n\n“Hi, is this Chuck?” said a voice on the other end of the phone. “Chuck Greene?”\n\n“Yes,” Chuck said, glancing down at his feet and wiggling his toes. He was wearing shoes, of course, but not the typical “restricting” kind. Instead, he’d recently spend about $100 on a pair of “toe shoes,” so as to allow his feet the utmost freedom, while still avoiding touching the disgusting ground. He was a free spirit and wanted his feet live a similar life.\n\n“Good afternoon, Chuck. My name is Mark Zuckerberg.” He paused. “You know who I am, right?”\n\n“No,” Chuck said, returning to twirling the phone’s cable between his finger. “Are you from the television? If so, I don’t have one. I don’t believe man was meant to sit in front of the TV and waste their lives. I threw mine out about six years ago, just tossed it away and never looked back. Now I whittle and make hemp jewelry for entertainment, which also happens to be my job. I would never have done that if I had a television—”\n\n“Great,” Mark interrupted, “that’s cool. I respect that you’re not watching television and are instead doing something,” he paused, as if thinking, “efficient with your time. As I always say, there isn’t enough hemp jewelry these days.” \n\n“I couldn’t agree more,” Chuck said, dropping the phone cable and instead spinning the hemp bracelet on his wrist. He’d made it just a few nights earlier, twisted each strand until it fit just right. Following that, he dropped a ton of acid and watched the bracelet turn into a series of serpents. “Television is terrible for humanity and the environment. I’m really a big advocate for securing a future for our youth.”\n\n“Me too,” Mark said, again interrupting Chuck. “That’s actually why I’m calling.”\n\n“Oh yeah?” \n\n“Yeah,” Mark continued. “I assume you don’t have a computer, correct?”\n\nChuck laughed directly into the phone. “Of course not. Do you know how bad computers are for humans? Terrible. I haven’t even looked at once in half a decade, not since I became a vegan. Speaking of, I’ve not even had meat—“\n\n“Hate to interrupt,” Mark said, his tone seeming to imply that wasn’t actually too troubled by his interruption, “but are you familiar with Facebook?”\n\n“Yes,” Chuck said. He’d read about it in the newspaper, which he stole from his neighbor every few days. The guy had no idea, spent hours on the phone with The New York Times trying to complain about his delivery issues. It was hilarious, wasting his day away by talking to the man and not instead living off the land as Chuck did. “Facebook is a drain on society’s collective consciousness. As a practicing vegan and environmentalist, I cannot condone it.”\n\n“I don’t see why veganism—” Mark paused, audibly taking a deep breath. “Here’s the deal,” he restarted, “as you may or may not be aware of, I am the founder of Facebook. Additionally, it just so happens that you are the absolute last adult in the United States not to have a Facebook account. The last, no exception. I would like to try to get you set up, even send you a free computer of your choosing. We need you to do this, which will secure our own future and therefore the future of millions.”\n\n“I’m the last person?” Chuck said, pushing the phone against his ear slightly harder. “What about homeless people?”\n\n“Public libraries,” Mark said. “Those that didn’t have one before our push for completion, though, they were more than happy to oblige our deals. Some wanted a free computer, some simply wanted food in exchange.”\n\n“What about Sarah, my neighbor? She’s super vegan and hasn’t even so much as looked at a mechanical clock in ten years. She is all about the environment. I’m a big fan of hers, it’s so brave what she’s surrendered to keep the man off her tail. She’s a hero.”\n\n“Sarah Goldstein? The woman that squats in the abandoned apartment beside yours? She has a Facebook account. Made it last week, in fact. She’s already found an apartment through some of her account’s great features.”\n\n“Really?” Chuck said, carefully sliding his hemp bracelet off his wrist and admiring the craftsmanship. It wasn’t exactly flawless, but it was its imperfection that gave it beauty. “Well, not me. I won’t do it.”\n\n“Why not?” Mark said. “We really need you to do this, to make an account. You don’t even have to use it. Just make it one time and that’s it.”\n\n“Nope,” Chuck said. “As a practicing vegan, I cannot condone something as horrible as Facebook. The corporations behind it do nothing but destroy the rainforests and control the minds of the public. I won’t be a sheep, I won’t sacrifice my morals. I am a free man and I will not succumb to your oppression. I will fight until my dying breath to stop the technology from destroying what’s left of mother Earth.”\n\n“Not a single word you just uttered made any sense,” Mark said, his voice sounding somewhat defeated. “Look, here’s the deal. I’m very wealthy. Very, very wealthy.”\n\n“I don’t care,” Chuck interrupted. “Money means nothing to me, I only believe in the wealth of one’s mind.”\n\n“I’ll give you six thousand dollars to create a Facebook account.”\n\n“Done,” Chuck said, throwing his hemp bracelet across the room in celebration. He was going to get so incredibly high tonight.\n", "\"Listen, Tim. You need a Facebook account. Trust me.\"\n\nTim could only shrink away from Moll, who had become increasingly strange in the past few weeks. \"I'm fine,\" said Tim, grabbing his coat from where he had stashed it beneath the counter. \"I don't need Facebook. Anyway, I'll see you later, Moll. I'm heading home.\"\n\nHe opened the door of the cafe and braced himself against the chill wind. Forty-three years he'd lived here, and that wind hadn't got any warmer. He aimed himself towards his lonely house on the western cliffs and was quickly lost in thought.\n\nOn the tiny island country of St Leith's, Tim was the only one without a Facebook account. He knew this because his fellow country folk took every opportunity to remind him. Ever since Facebook had set up a base of operations on the island, the locals, who initially balked at the invasive presence, had grown to sing its praises from dawn till dusk. It was... odd.\n\nTim had noticed things. Strange things. It seemed like every man, woman and child on the island had every gadget on the market: phone, laptop, tablet, even watches and glasses. All of them branded with that sinister 'f'. Even the most elderly Leithite had somehow become accustomed to all the new tech, which was doubly astonishing since Tim could remember that not two years ago his cousin Dot had struggled to open internet explorer. The flag of St Leith's had morphed subtly, it's shade switching from a deep navy blue to a more tinny, electric one. And the white cross emblazoned on it had a slight curvature to the top, twisting to the right.\n\nOver the past few months Tim had often thought he was going mad. No-one else seemed to notice anything strange, after all.\n\n\"Tim.\"\n\nTim was jostled out of his thoughts by an unfamiliar voice. \"Tim, it's time you joined Facebook. With the rest of us.\" Tim looked up into a face he didn't recognise. A grizzled man who looked to be in his forties.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nThe man chuckled. \"Well, ye'd know if you were on Facebook now, wouldn't you?\" The man's rogue-ish accent would have typically been charming, but it seemed to have a sharp edge beneath it, like a blade straining against cloth.\n\nTim pulled his coat closer and shuffled past. \"Thanks, but I don't need Facebook. I don't use the internet much anyway.\"\n\nHome sweet home. Time took his coat off carefully, and hung it on the rack. He gave Matty a quick pet (he had been scratching at the door as usual), before kneeling down to the fireplace and setting up the kindling. Not long after, with a roaring fire, a cup of hot cocoa, and a book, Tim was as happy as he could be. Well, as long as he didn't think about the strangeness that had taken over St Leith's recently.\n\nTap, tap. Tim woke with a start. It was late, maybe nine or ten o'clock. The fire had burned down to cinders. Who could that be at this hour.\n\n\"Tim? We know you're in there. We need to talk to you please. It's urgent.\" A young man's voice. Was it about Sarah?\n\nTim hurried to the door and opened it to see a boy scarcely out of his teens staring intensely at him.\n\n\"What is it? Is it about my daughter?\"\n\n\"Sarah? No, Tim. This is about you.\" The man had a sorrowful look on his face, and he pushed past Tim to stand in the middle of the room.\n\n\"What? What do you want?\" said Tim, trying to make sense of who the young man was. His face seemed familiar. \"Who are you?\"\n\nThe young man sighed, but the sigh was followed swiftly by plastic smile that stretched eeriely far across his face. \"Tim, I'm Morton Gade; I'm a Senior Executive in Facebook Future Technology, which has it's main labs on this island. We've been having some issues, Tim. The long and short of it, Tim, is that we would like you to join Facebook.\"\n\nThere was a long silence, in which the young man was as still as a statue. \"What?\" Tim exclaimed. You come to my house, in the night, to ask me to join your sodding website? I don't want or need Facebook! Everyone on this island has gone mad! Get out! Get out of my house!\" Tim gestured violently at the door.\"\n\nThe young man sighed again, deeper than last time, though the same plastic smile resurfaced in its wake. \"Tim,\" he said. \"We're not asking anything.\"\n\nAnother silence. Tim could hear his own heartbeat. Looking into the young man's eyes he could see a hard blue edge beneath the gray irises. A tinny, electric blue. There were noises outside, and Tim could see shadows through his windows. The fron door opened with a creak and Moll came through.\n\n\"Tim,\" she said sweetly. \"You should do as he says. It's for the best. We're all on Facebook here! Join us.\" Tim stared at her in astonishment. So the madness had run this deep.\n\n\"Tim,\" said the young man. \"It's lonely out here on the cliffs. You need friends. Facebook will keep you connected. It would be a shame if...\"\n\nThe man sighed again. \"It would be a shame if something were to happen to you. How would Sarah find out? She would be distraught, I'm sure.\"\n\nFrom the corner of his eye, Tim noticed the shotgun that hung above his fireplace. Well, either he was mad, or the rest of the island was. It made no difference now. Only question remained: comply, or rebel. He already knew the answer." ]	9
	[WP] Night has never fallen on Earth. Until today...	[ "I had always described myself as a night person. Once the sun started going down, my energy levels would rise. I thought I knew what night was. I was wrong. We all were. A time came where the moon was snuffed out, and the stars...my god, the stars...safe to say we shall never see their like again. The thick blanket of darkness that now envelopes the earth is like nothing anyone has ever experienced. We can keep it at bay with artificial light, but not what came with the darkness. Not...those things. Hideous, terrible, deadly... the fact that I cannot see them at times makes me grateful for the blackness. But every day we lose someone else. God help us all.", "\"Where were you when the sun went down for the first time?\" Asked a small child. I sat on the stool, surrounded by the towns children. They loved my old stories of times gone by. \n\nI was out hunting with my brother when it started. We were in a dense thicket of trees, and when we emerged into an open field, it felt as though a storm was coming. I looked to the sky for clouds, but there were none. It seemed as if something was wrong though. I couldn't figure out what, but I knew my brother could feel it too. Eventually he said what I had been thinking. \n\"The sun looks like it's moved to the left\" he said, giving a little laugh at the absurdity of that idea. The sun did loon different though. It was as if it were getting cloudier, yet there were no clouds. \"We should head back.\" I said. I didn't like whatever this was. As we turned back towards the town, we hurried our pace. It was a long walk back. As we got closer, it seemed to grow less light, and more as if we were in a cave. By the time we got near town, the sun has gone on to the edge of the far mountains, and the sky there was the color of blood. We ran, desperate to get home and be with others for whatever catastrophe this was. The sun dipped below the mountains, and the sky began to turn the color of burnt wood. A black so deep we couldn't see anything. As my brother and I sprinted through the field, headed towards town, we could hear screaming from beyond the border wall. We made it to the gate, and as we entered, we saw that nobody else knew what was happening either. Gigantic fires were lit to keep it like day, but you could see an ocean of black far above us, and in it, millions of tiny dots. Nobody else stopped to see them, but I did. After a short time, a massive glowing thing came, like the sun, but in its own way, so very different; it came from the far side, away from the mountains. It sailed so slowly across the sky as we huddled around fires through the time where the world was in a cave. Eventually, after what seemed forever, it went where the sun had gone, across the mountains. The sky became strange colors, and the sun came from where the other thing had come from. We came to love this darkness, as we call it now. Night time. We feared it when we didn't know it, but now, we have learned to lay down together when it comes, we close our eyes, and in our darkness we sleep until the sky is painted many colors, and we can see again. ", "We have angered Rash'ek, and he has closed his Eye. \n\nRash'ek gave us all we needed. When we were hungry, he sent boars to hunt. When we needed tools to hunt the boars, great trees sprung from the ground to harvest and shape. When we needed heat to cook the boar, Rash'ek focused his eye and gave us fire.\n\nThe It'thal'it people had no word for sadness. We had all we needed and all we desired. Rash'ek smiled upon us and brought us rain, shine, food and clothes. Rash'ek gave to us vast meadows, great forests, and endless water. \n\nIn our hubris, we sought to capture Rash'ek. We created fire, and we danced. Rash'ek closed his eye, and brought forth the unending darkness we called Night. \n\nThe It'thal'it have forgotten happiness.\n\nNight chills us. Night frightens us. Night brings forth creatures that hunt us. The boar have grown hellish and fearsome. The waters once pure and clear have turned black and thick. We cannot drink. We cannot sleep. There is little food, and the It'thal'it eat It'thal'it. \n\nWe sit by our fire, ever-growing. It'thal'it pile It'thal'it upon the blaze to keep it strong, make it large. With burning sticks, It'thal'it have burned out an eye each. But Rash'ek still does not return. \n\nThe fire grows larger. The boars draw closer. Night turns darker. The It'thal'it become smaller.\n\nThe fire grows larger." ]	3
	[WP] Create a world engine (a world with a new concept/mechanism like Inception). Everyone: reply with a story set in that world.	[ "humans can transfer their consciousness to other body \"vessels\". A corporation owns the entire world including every human body in existence. The corporation is the only producer of new human bodies. Poor people are forced into an endless cycle of indentured servitude in which they rent a body and must work for 12 hours straight in order to afford to rent another body when the body they are using is due to be returned. The 1% have the luxuries of traveling the world by transferring their consciousness to any body they wish on any part of the globe. \nOne day, a poor man finds a newborn baby in a dumpster outside of his work..." ]	1
	[WP] In the middle of the night a prisoner raises his voice and performs an empowering monologue to the rest of the prisoners.	[ "It started with just a scream, a howl, as the moonlight slipped between the bars. Some of us were already awake but now all of us listened closely in the darkness. Then he spoke, Alf. He was old, more gray than black, \"They can't keep us here! What have any of us done to truly belong here for the remainder of our lives!?\" \nEven though his cell was far from mine I could hear the click clack of his feet as he paced and then the piercing ring of metal as he gnashed against the bars, \"I remember the wind and the stars...and the moon. Not as this. Not as some distant thing outside these bars hanging in the sky but close, like a lover with whom I spoke sweetly after a passionate embrace. Do you not remember your home!? Do you not remember the call of the open sky or the embrace of the endless sea!?\" \nThen a pounding began. We all knew who it was, Jamal. His powerful muscles banging against his cell door, each bang followed by loud trumpet of his voice. Alf howled once more, \"Don't you see! This is not how we were meant to live!\" The pounding grew louder now as others joined in, myself included, \"Can you taste it my friends!?\" The lone guard stood frozen in fear, squawks and roars all around him, \"Today! Today is our day!\" The pained twisting of metal filled the air, \"Today! Means! FREEDOM!!\"\n\n\n>In our top story today, there was a massive escape last night from the Chicago Zoo. Authorities are currently trying to track down the missing animals but as of this morning none have been found. We urge people to exercise extreme caution when traveling outside until the animals have been found. If you have any information regarding the escaped animals please call the number below.", "It was in the middle of the night when he started speaking. We all knew that Joe was in prison for life. No chance of being freed.\n\nI was lying on my bunk. I still wasn't used to the mattress, it was thin and lumpy. It's what we deserve, Joe used to say. We screwed it all up, and now we don't deserve luxuries. I guess he was right.\n\nThere was drip, coming from the ceiling. Passing by my ear, then landing on the hard floor. A rhythmic tap tap noise.\n\nThen Joe started talking. Performing. I can't remember what he said, but it made my cell-mate cry. We all listened to the croaky voice echoing round the soundless walls. Not a single inmate interrupted him, and when he was finished, no-one said anything still. No one went back to sleep. The air was dense, full of emotion. We were all thinking about what Joe had said.\n\nJoe died that night. He was old. His story was his last goodbye." ]	2
	[WP] You find a hourglass that when used, lets you travel 3 minutes back in time	[ "You pick it up off the ground. The smooth cool glass rests on your palm. Tiny grains behind the crystal ebb and flow. It almost shimmers as if it were water. The glass is intricately lain in rich mahogony carved to resemble tiny leaves. Gold leaf trimms the spine of each leaf. When you roll it in your hand the sun jumps from leaf to leaf. A small blur passes your peripherals. As you glance up you see a car swerve to avoid hitting a dog. The tires screech and you feel the wind as car narrowly misses you and plows into the side of a house. Screaming fills the air. You look down, the object has fallen onto the grass and the material on the inside has started to leak to the other side. The screaming persists as your world starts to go black. You feel faint and you close your eyes as your head hits the grass. They snap open. You pick it up off the ground. ", "\"--iiit.\"\n\nJeremy Sutherland found himself in front of the Magistrate, his hand tightly clutching the grip of his pistol. He wasn't sure how the events unfurled to this moment in time, but he knew had to be in this precise moment. It had to be done.\n\nHe clicked off the safety with his thumb, gripping the pistol all the more tautly to ensure his unwavering aim remained so, \"Magistrate DeLong, I can't let you go any further. This has to stop.\"\n\nMagistrate DeLong stood hunched over a peculiar object, its soft, pulsating red glow highlighting his silhouette in the dark, narrow corridor. The slim walkway's walls were packed tightly with shelves stocked with countless hourglasses: many of them had ran their course, the microscopic sands resting gently at their respective bases no longer serving the purposes for which they were made in mind with. The Magistrate slowly stood up and turned to face Jeremy, \"Ahh, officer Sutherland... I'm not surprised to find you here. Finally figured out the puzzle, eh?\" He clutched the artifact closer to his chest.\n\nJeremy tried to control his emotions; his rage could blind him from a tight shot group he looked forward to placing on the Magistrate's chest, \"You can't do this, I won't let you! There's a reason why time thievery was outlawed from the very start!\" He placed his finger on the trigger, ready to fire at a moment's notice, \"You've destroyed our civilization... you've destroyed my life, and I swear upon everything I stand for you won't make it to that door.\"\n\nThe Magistrate looked at his only exit: entering the Dimension Portal was the final stage of his plan to re-establish history as he saw fit. His only salvation was merely 20 yards away, but in this tight corridor he'd be but an easy target for Jeremy. Like all crafty, desperate villains, he had one last card up his sleeve. The Magistrate turned his gaze onto Jeremy, cracking a deviant grin as he replied, \"Do you truly believe you have the upper hand? You have no idea what I'm capable of... I am a Manipulator of Time, and the very thought of you stopping m--\"\n\nJeremy fired a warning shot; the bullet whizzed past the Magistrate's head, and the snap of the round breaking the sound barrier forced him to halt his monologue. Jeremy ran out of patience, \"The next one is going right into your torso, Magistrate. I won't tell you again, drop the Oracle and lay flat on the ground.\"\n\nSuddenly, Jeremy heard the shuffling of feet echoing behind him; he couldn't afford to turn around, and the Magistrate knew this.\n\n\"It appears you've sealed your own doom, my dear friend,\" the Magistrate coyly remarked. The stomping began to grow louder behind Jeremy, as if a mob was storming down the hallway. Jeremy lined up his iron sights once more, using more of his instinct than his sight in the poorly lit environment, and fired another shot. The muzzle flash briefly lit up the corridor, revealing a brief mist of red and a loud shriek from the Magistrate; he tried to fire another round but only felt the chunk of the trigger mechanism--his magazine misfed a round.\n\n\"Damn it,\" Jeremy grunted, attempting to remove his magazine. The Magistrate gripped the entry wound on his leg as he started shuffling toward his escape, panting heavily from the pain. \n\n\"Get him!\"\n\nA sudden shout from a voice behind forced Jeremy to quickly turn around and see a countless number of Magistrate DeLongs sprinting toward him. Jeremy's instinctive spin had caused one of the smaller hourglasses to tumble off the shelf and fall onto the floor. Time practically moved in slow motion; Jeremy could only speculate what could happen next as he tried to dive forward to grab the hourglass before it hit the floor.\n\nWith a loud thud, he dropped onto the ground in unison with the hourglass. He had successfully prevented the hourglass from shattering. Jeremy was relieved; had the hourglass smashed, he knew it could have had disastrous consequences to the time continuum, but it was when he opened his palm did he realize gravity naturally took place to draw out the sand toward the bottom of the glass. The Magistrate clones began to draw closer, but it was too late.\n\nTime began to unwind.\n\nWith a heavy sigh, Jeremy muttered under his breath,\n\n\"Oh sh--\"", "3 minutes goes into an hour 20 times. Multiply that by 24 and you get a whole day. 480 little chunks of 3 minutes gets me to exactly this time yesterday, give or take a few seconds.\n\nMultiply that by 365. It's 175,200. I did the math on it and rechecked it dozens of times. You can trust me.\n\nHave you ever done anything over 175,200 times in your life, much less in a row? Maybe taking a breath, but nothing else. How about 500,000 times? A million?\n\nIt gets old. Really fucking quick. Every time I turn the hourglass over, it takes me 3 minutes back in the past. That's all. I've been at it for weeks, stopping only to sleep. Those naps lose me another 300 or 400 turns, so I try not to rest unless I absolutely have to.\n\nHow many more turns do I have? Where am I going back to? I don't even know, really. All I know is that one day, we were happy, and the next we weren't together anymore.\n\nI'll keep hopping backward as long as it takes,. Another 50,000 turns, maybe? I still don't see you. But when I do, I'll keep going until I know what I did, and I'll make it right. I hope.\n\nYou're worth a million turns, Amy. Two million, or five, or ten. I just hope that this time, I'm worth not turning away once.", "Well, I've tried it at least a hundred times.\n\nNothing fucking worked.\n\nDo you know how little time three minutes actually is? Maybe it sounds like a lot, I don't know. It's the length of a typical song, for starters, and just a bit longer than a typical movie trailer. It's longer than almost anyone can hold his breath. It's also about the length of time that someone can engage in an otherwise un-stimulating task without his mind wondering irrevocably.\n\nThree minutes, in short, is not a lot of time.\n\nThe first time I tried it, it was basically like having a bad case of deja vu. Everything was the same, everything was expected, everything was totally non-consequential. I was still in my bedroom, still listening to Sufjan Stevens, still sitting across from the dumb-looking hourglass. I had been there before. Nothing was surprising. I waited for something interesting to happen, but it never did.\n\nAnd then, after maybe two minutes and fifty-five seconds, there was this weird pulsing flash and I was right back where I started -- holding the hourglass in my hand, just listening to the end of \"Chicago\" while trying to decide if I should turn the damned thing over.\n\nSeveral more attempts confirmed it: unless my actions in the \"new past\" (I have to call it that, or something; this is all fucking new) led to me turning the hourglass in the last few seconds of those three minutes, it would spring me back to where I was and erase everything that happened. Time does not like to be fucked with, and the hourglass seems to be a bad lay to begin with.\n\nIt's very hard to do anything meaningful in three minutes. Believe me, I've tried. You can maybe win an eBay auction with a slightly lower bid. You can not get hit by a car. You can revise and revise your conversations so that you're brilliant rather than a damned fool. The problem is that you have to be doing all of these things already when you turn the goddamn hourglass (three-minute-glass?), and it can take a lot of doing to get you to those points. I sure managed to make some stuff happen, but three minutes is not a lot of time. None of it ended up being all that helpful, and the requirement that the last few seconds involve turning the hourglass anyway have created a really pressing obstacle.\n\nThe most disconcerting part of the whole experiment was where I tried to turn the thing after driving to a convenience store to buy a lottery ticket. I turned the glass and was then suddenly driving again without expecting it. I went off the road, crashed into a ravine, and started to burn alive. It hurts, in case you're wondering -- but it took more than three minutes to kill me, so I just ended up back where I started again. I'm never going to forget that feeling, though. I don't know how anyone could.\n\nAnyway, to cut a long story short, fuck this hourglass. Thirty minutes would have been workable; even ten would have given me something. As it is, I just want to chuck the thing into the nearest lake and be done with it.\n\nIn case you were counting, all of this took me exactly two minutes and fifty seconds to speak into the recorder. Time will only tell if" ]	4
	[WP] Leonardo DA Vinci is teleported to the modern world. You show him the latest tech and culture. Surprisingly, he's rather unimpressed.	[ "It's been a frustrating afternoon. I had started out with my phone, the touch-screen alone would drop the jaw of anyone from 2005, but Leonardo was mildly amused. \n \n\"Mmm yes this is good!\" he had said, before entering the wrong password repeatedly and locking me out. \n \nI quickly gave up with computers, they seemed beyond his comprehension and without computers the internet was a no-go. The radio got a nod of approval, making it the most impressive gadget in my house. \n \nWe had got in my car so that I could show him something that he could fully understand the implications of. He was very intrigued, but not overly surprised by the concept of an engine. \"Not overly dissimilar to recent steam concepts,\" was his comment. \n \nWhich is why I've brought him here. We get out of the car and walk to the edge of the overpass. Below us, 8 lanes of traffic thunder along the smooth tarmac. Streetlights turn the road into a golden thread that stretches to the mountainous range of concrete and steel structures in the distance. The glow of the metropolis illuminates the horizon, obscuring the stars. \n \n\"Lame!\" said Da Vinci.", "The woods and mountains behind my house in South Anchorage stretched for miles only broken by hiking trails and the odd abandoned military structure. The slate grey structure had always been there as long as I remembered, it was different than other structures in the area, but not me or anyone else in the area ever gave any thought to it. It was an odd one no entrance or other remarkable features. We always shrugged it off, they did lots of interesting things during the Cold War in the deep Alaskan Mountains.\n\nI got a job as a civilian contractor for the Air Force documenting and publishing Cold War era histories. Growing up around bunkers from the 60s and 70s made me pretty excited about that job, plus I would be able to return home. I was perfect for the job, my book on Renaissance Italy was a New York Times bestseller and the Government was paying me handsomely to take the boring history of the Cold War and turn it into a series of facts that the country would gravitate towards and fall I love with. \n\nImagine my surprise when there was zero evidence of that structure EVER being there. The Air Force was intrigued. We went there to check it out, I had not been in there in about 15 years, but it was still there, the marks of young lovers still painted and etched onto the structure. We studied it for weeks, apparently what I used to think was just concrete was actually something no one at the Air Force had ever encountered. X-Rays and other imaging systems told us nothing about what it did or what might be inside of it. So, we blew a hole in it.\n\nAfter the smoke cleared all we heard was a garbled yelling. Suddenly concerned that there might actually be someone in there we ran towards towards to the whole, only to see an old man yelling at us in an older Italian dialect to stop. The Air Force team I was with was pretty confused, as none of them spoke Italian. Thanks to my time in Italy I was able to understand the old man, it seems I was more perfect for this job than I thought at first.\n\nIt was about two months later that the Air Force summoned me back, after they found the guy in that structure they shut the whole operation down pretty quickly to figure out what was going on. They told me said he was Leonardo Davinci... And they actually believed him. Apparently he was able to translate Davinci's journal, not an easy feat. He seems to have convincing evidence he was who he said he was. Ive always been a skeptic, but apparently the old man wanted to only talk to me as of a week ago, so it's back into the clandestine world of the Air Force once more.\n\n\"I knew this was going to happen\" the old man said as soon as I saw him. \"I knew it would be you too, you are the perfect man to find me.\" Really? This is so cliche, only one man can help him. And it's me? Well, I'm on government contract, so it doesn't really matter since they are paying me pretty damn well. He wanted me to tell a story from his perspective, a story that he said would be his greatest accomplishment, and would begin another Renaissance. Whatever the Air Force wants me to do I guess...\n\nAnd so I wrote, I wrote incredible things. He was who he said he was and he had been to the future, the past, and everywhere in between. What I wrote changed the course of the world. Nothing I had ever written had a greater impact. Nothing anyone had ever written had a greater impact. In his words:\n\n\nI knew this would happen, I only wish you guys were farther along. Your touch screens are close, but over all they are garbage. Your traffic clogs the arteries of this era, much of your time is wasted sitting in transport listening to the narcissistic upper class praise themselves, and you pay them for it. Then you sit, and intake at home, there is no creation. When I was taken the first time they told me that only the past could save your future. Your technology is nothing compared to what it will be if you turn yourselves around. Here is what you as humanity need to do..." ]	2
	[WP]: Two divine beings hold a competition: One tries to create the most useless creature she can think of, and the other tries to come up with an use for it.	[ "Two lungs twitch \nDrawing their own curtains \nMuscles burn through and through \n. \nCreation is a game \nOne must play \nTwo cannot win \n. \n\"He will love and spurn his brother\" \nSilence touching tongues \nUntouched love is sadness \n. \nDizzy, spinning wretches \nReacting to their world \nKill all and save none \n. \nPrecious time wasted \n\"Can he save himself\" \nLove is more than wonder \n. \nListen to the world \nThinks of petty things \nQuestions his existence \n. ", "\"It has a beak, 3 wings, and no legs. Go\" the first Being said.\n\n\"Its 3 wings will produce a lot of lift. It could carry small animals on its back, and fly them up to the tops of trees to grab nuts. Then crack them with its beak, feeding both itself and the small animal\" the second Being said.\n\n\"7 eyes, can't see in light, and gives birth to cannibal babies\" the first Being postulated.\n\n\"it will aid the other creatures by being the night sentry against predators. The babies will just have to be kept with other animals\" the second Being responded.\n\n\"You're good. Okay, here is a tough one: one arm, one leg, 2 wings, and no eyes\" the first Being snickered.\n\n\"If it has no eyes, its hearing will be much better than other creatures. It will fly over head and listen for threats to the community\" the second Being decided.\n\n\"This is the best I've got: It has a duck bill, a beaver's tail, sweats milk, and has a poisonous bite\" the first Being said smugly.\n\n\"Nice. It will use its seemingly outlandish appearance to seem nonthreatening. Then it will kill the predators that stalk the other animals\" the second Being said after a seconds hesitation.\n\n\"You are too good at this game. Here is a simple one: two legs, two arms, two eyes. Lacks fur, but has thumbs. Highly intelligent, but highly violent. Can build great inventions, but uses them to kill its brothers. Can survive on roots and berries, but takes pleasure in killing and eating other animals. Go\" the first Being said darkly\n\n\"Wow. How could such a destructive species ever interact with others? I'm stumped\" the second Being said." ]	2
	[WP] Choose a quote which inspires you, and write the story of the origin of the quote.	[ "A great man once said \"I,know not what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones\". It turns out he was right.\n\nRussia and the US have never really got on and once were close to war but in the end stopped because it would just be MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). However in the late 21st century it all changed, as tensions grew higher different countries made different allies and spread out their influence. As the first fights actually started billions of Pounds of current had been spent on military funds. The fighting started in Czechoslovakia with ground troops and light armour being rolled in, there was many casualties on both sides. After the Russians and its allies had managed to take Czechoslovakia peace talks were attempted. The US wanted Russia and its allies in Europe to stop funds into nuclear weaponry, but would not do the same. All this did was increase aggressions on both sides and an increase on nuclear arms. After the first bomb was dropped it all happened so fast. Alerts and sirens went off everywhere across the world as countries unloaded their arsenals of death around the globe, telling people to get to their shelters. \n\nMost people were unlucky, or lucky depending on how you see it. The world is a ravened wasteland attracting the worst and corrupting the best. The survivors of the terrible disaster which scarred the earth and chocked the atmosphere only making it safe to come out hundreds of years later, had started to make colonies. And with power comes greed, different groups wanted more. There was only small amounts of workable farmland it was worth the fight. So here we are again but this time with petty tools of stone and stick ready to fight, ready for battle, ready for power.", "The parson coughed and groaned as the young altar boy pulled the beam off of him.\n\n\"Are you all right father?!\"\n\n\"Yes boy -cough-... I'm fine...\" the old man replied. \"Go and tend to the others.\"\n\nThe boy ran off into the rubble to see how others had fared, meanwhile, the parson slowly rose to his feet, waving the dust away from his face and beginning to look around and assess the damage to the church.\n\nSoon he realized this was a hopeless endeavor, there was no church, just a pile of splintered wood and brick and injured people. All around him were the cries and sobs of so many people still stuck underneath the debris. He noted his walking stick laying beside him, and stooped to pick it up.\n\n\"An Earthquake, by the look of it.\" he thought to himself, leaning on the walking stick. Yes, his memory was returning. Just as the service had ended, and the people from the surrounding village were greeting one another and filtering out the doors, the ground had begun to shake, every bell in the tower rang at once, and every window shattered. Beyond that, the priest couldn't remember what had happened. He guessed that the roof had knocked him unconscious as it fell, thankfully doing nothing more.\n\nHe laughed in spite of himself, quietly praying. \n\n\"Thank you, Lord, that I serve this tiny village church, and not a great stone cathedral!\" He rubbed the welt forming at the back of his head, imagining what might have become of him if it had been a great stone slab rather than the timber that had struck him. \"Mighty Father, I foresee a long recovery from this disaster, and ask that you provide for the safety of the people in this difficult time.\"\n\nThe old man looked past the church courtyard and saw that many buildings throughout the town had suffered similar damage, most were leveled, hardly recognizable. He saw an old woman crying as her family comforted her, all on their knees in what had moments before been their home.\n\n\"Argh! Careful boy! I've only got two of those you know!\"\n\nThe parson looked over and saw that the sexton was being freed from the fallen wall that had entrapped his leg. The altar boy had gotten a sledgehammer from the shed and was smashing the brick to bits, as the helpless man looked on in terror.\n\nThe parson hobbled over to his friend as the altar boy ran off to help someone else. The Sexton was already on his feet and brushing the dust from his robes.\n\n\"Well, old friend, today is shaping up to be a difficult day.\" said the sexton.\n\n\"Quite.\" replied the parson, watching as a crowd began to gather where the church doors had been.\n\n\"We need to organize shelter for all of these people, and for ourselves. Very few houses are still standing.\"\n\nThe parson watched as the people continued to help each other out of the rubble, he saw young girls throwing blankets over people shivering out on the street, and heard the altar boy yelling out \"Firewood! Gather firewood! It will be cold tonight!\"\n\nThe parson smiled a bit, and the sexton glared at him.\n\n\"Why so cheerful?\"\n\n\"Look at them, friend, so strong together, so eager to help one other. I think they will be quite all right. The houses are gone, yes, but 'it is in the shelter of each other that the people live.'\" -Irish proverb", "He searched frantically for the amulet. \n\nHe dug through the boxes from the archaeological dig and threw aside priceless, yet useless artifacts looking for the small blue amulet that would end the demon's frantic body hopping spree of brutality.\n\nHe heard the door to the warehouse open behind him and knew he was almost out of time. The tattoo on his chest would stop the demon from taking over his body, but would do little to stop it ripping him limb from limb. \n\nThe knife at his waist would do little to help him unless he could find the damn amulet! It was the source of the demons ability, and if he found and destroyed it, it would not only stop it from entering anyone else's body, but would render it mortal as well, giving him a chance to end this madness tonight. His frantic searching increased in pace as he heard the footsteps behind him grow closer.\n\n\"Ahh, Oscar\" said a voice behind him, causing him to spin around quickly, dropping the box he was holding, causing it to break open, spilling it's contents to the ground.\n\nThe speaker was a large Caucasian man, in his mid fifties, though the solid white eyes gave away that he was currently possessed by the demon.\n\n\"Who would have thought, Mr Wilde\" the demon continued, \"that such a talented writer would have such a sordid extra curricular activity as trying to kill a humble demon like myself? No wonder you drink so heavily, some of the scenes I've left for you must have troubled you greatly\" he strode slowly forward as he spoke, confident in his power.\n\nOscar lowered his head in defeat, knowing his time was up, and spotted the small box he'd dropped on the floor. Laying half out of the shattered wood was the tiny blue amulet he'd been looking for!\n\nHe drew his knife defiantly, staring hard into the demons disconcerting white eyes.\n\nThe demon laughed nastily as it took the final few steps towards him \n\"So Mr Wilde, do you have any last words before I stab this body with your knife, choke the life out of you, leave you in a very incriminating pose for the authorities to find and zip off into another body to continue my fun?\"\n\n\"Yes\" Oscar replied steadily as he brought his heel down on the amulet, shattering the thing in a pulse of blue light.\n\n\"Be yourself, everyone else is already taken\"\n\nThat was the last thing the demon heard as the knife pierced his suddenly mortal heart.\n\n\n\n\"Be yourself, everyone else is already taken\" is obviously one of my favourite quotes. It inspires me. Tried to change it up here, making Oscar Wilde more awesome than he already is. I know it's a stretch, but hope you enjoyed!" ]	3
	[WP] Red Bull actually gave you wings...	[ "Oh the joys of an all-nighter\n\nWhat fun it is to stay up late\n\nYou're a lucky one if you can't relate\n\nWhat am I doing here?\n\n-I'm a quitter, not a fighter\n\nNonetheless I crack open the can\n\nThere's a first time for everything\n\nI hear caffeine angels sing\n\nGod damn, my shoulders feel weird.\n\nBuzz got me feeling superhuman\n\nWarp speed, works done, piled neatly; stacked.\n\n~~Tomorrow~~ Today I'll finish the rest\n\nThat's a weight off my chest\n\nAnd... onto my back?\n\nWhoa, I must really be wired\n\nI'm feeling light-headed\n\nAnd not 'cause I'm tired\n\nThough I am feathered\n\nHell yes, these are real!\n\nI gotta use these things\n\nI gotta give 'em a try\n\nFuckfuckfuckfuckfuck\n\nRed Bull gives you wings,\n\nBut it can't make you fly.", "(My first writing prompt, so here goes!)\n\nI lay sprawled on the floor of my room, struggling to remember how to begin the second problem on my math worksheet. Defeated, I sat up and pulled open my laptop. The glaring glow of the screen blinded my tired eyes, denying their cry for sleep. The stenciled numbers at the bottom of the display marked the time: 1:32 AM. I knew that Mr. Jones would give me a zero if I didn't finish the math homework, but with my brain screaming for a rest, I couldn't bring myself to care. Instinctively, my fingers typed \"Youtube.com\" into the address bar. I clicked on some stupid video on the recommended page. It didn't matter what I watched, so long as I didn't have to think. I was greeted with an ad, narrated by a man with a booming baritone voice. \n\nRed bull gives you wings \n\nFor a second I was unable to peel my sleep-deprived eyes from the blue-gray can. \nThe moment passed, and the video brought me back to reality. I paused it. Shit, I thought. I really need a Red bull. Moving with all the grace of a drunk, I slowly made it out of the room and down the stairs. I meandered into the kitchen and yanked open the refrigerator door. The drink burned as I chugged it, and I could feel the caffeine raging a battle against my exhausted body. \n\nWhen I got back upstairs, I attempted to tackle the math again. As I scratched out meaningless numbers, I had a peculiar sensation. My back itched. The itch was insignificant at first, but as I continued to write it grew and grew until I couldn't ignore it any longer. I clawed at my back maniacally, and suddenly my hands grasped feathers. Feathers. I sprinted to the mirror, and there it was. A pair of wings. My name is Paul Jensen, I'm a junior in high school, and I have wings. \n\nYou're just tired I told myself. But suddenly I felt more alert than ever. Returning to my laptop, I typed \"Red bull side effects\" into the search bar. Weight gain. Insomnia. There was nothing out of the ordinary. I opened a new tab and flipped to facebook. I couldn't help but look at Jenna's page. Rage washed over me as I stared at her pictures, reminders of how she rejected me last week, and everyone couldn't stop talking about it. \n\n\"It's hot in here,\" I said aloud, trying to concentrate on something else. I pulled open the window and the frigid winter air chilled my bones. I looked out into the darkness. And then, before I could think, I had jumped. Could I fly?\n " ]	2
	[WP] You are a street vendor in Hell where you deal in its most valuable commodity, water. Walk us through an average day in your life.	[ "Getting a job in hell was easier than it seemed, and funnier too. It actually required a great deal of fucking, scamming, and selling drugs to poor ghetto kids.\nBut alas, I was born for working here. When I was a little boy my parents divorced and I was left alone with my mum. I had to become a salesman to survive, in fact I sold my mother to the next wandering gentleman that crossed our door. He ended up staying and keeping a couple of nice, loving and caring families in each coast, but that’s another story I guess.\n\nIndeed it was no surprise when I arrived here. I earned it, on could even say that I volunteered for hell, so I ended up where I expected. I have to reckon thought that the whole water thing was a surprise to me. I was pleasantly surprised with the selling and trading of the liquid resource, the booming business of the underworld.\nThe business case is not complicated at all, you take water, bottle it, and then sell it to the tormented souls that aimlessly wander the halls of the averno. The catch is, of course, that they cannot drink it. It makes “puff” once the first droplet touches their lips, this is hell after all. But what can I say? They are desperate, and I am rich.\nI always wonder what kind of loophole exists so that a man like me can thrive in a place like this, but it is the damn best job that I have ever had, because you know, at the end of the day sluts and whore never stop dying, so there is plenty of fresh merchandise to buy and sell.\nFinally, for the first time of my life, I can sleep well at night, tired from a good day of fulfilling work.\n", "I dunno how the fuck I got here, so don't ask that.\n\nI tried to live my life as best as I could. God knows (literally) I tried. And yet, here I am. It could be worse. I could be worried about Earthly things like lost love and whether I remembered to feed the fish before work. I don't have to obsess over that shit anymore. \n\nAnother thing: the folks back home got it wrong. Lucifer is the ultimate rebel. The pedantic little misdemeanors, they're the ones who get it the worst. Johnny over there in the corner? He stole paper clips from work. Fabrice? Used the company emergency contact list to get the phone numbers of female co-workers. All petty shit.\n\nI'd say ask them about it, but they lost their tongues years ago.\n\nThe Gacys, the Pol Pots, the Bushes of the world...they live in the penthouse. Lucy does have a sense of humor after all. Which is why I, the man who died of a nasty bladder infection, am a water salesman.\n\nWell, salesman is a bit of a stretch. Water is a precious thing here. Here, you can't die of thirst. You suffer on and on as if you were dehydrated to the point of death, but never farther than that. It's horrible, but I've grown used to it. The most fucked up thing, however, is what they take for currency here.\n\nTo buy an 8 ounce bottle of water here, you have to give up a memory. Oh, I forgot to mention that everyone remembers everything they did in the past. \n\nI told you it was fucked up.\n\nOf course, there are some memories that you don't want to keep. Those are the first to go. But after a while, you start running out of the bad stuff. Then, it's on to the primary school years. Finally, when you reach the end of your rope, it's the first kiss. That time you and your first real love did a bunch of shrooms and then took a road trip to a town in bum-fuck nowhere on a whim. The time you built a blanket fort in the kitchen because you were bored and out of pot. The first time she said \"I love you.\" The names of your kids. Your wife's name. \n\nYour own.\n\nI get a share of the water, of course. I can't exactly do anything with memories from people I don't even know, so aqua is my payment. Sometimes, I even get to chill and smoke a blunt with Hitler and Martha Stewart in the penthouse. It could be a lot worse.\n\nBut even I have needs. Water isn't the only thing for sale. You can buy pretty much anything down here. Emotional support, that's the stuff I crave. I've got Dr. Phil and Oprah cheering me on every day of my life, telling me that living out eternity in damnation isn't so bad. Lucy's their boss, of course, so they take from me and render unto Caesar. Not literally, though. \n\nCaesar is getting rendered enough as it is.\n\nAnyway, that's a day in my new life. I don't have to sleep anymore, and time isn't really a thing either, so I say \"day\" but...it's hard to explain. You'd really have to be here to understand. I pay my dues every damn \"day,\" I know that much. Unfortunately, I've forgotten how long I've been here. I've forgotten what I've given up for someone to pat me on the back and tell me it'll be all right. I've forgotten who you are or why I'm talking to you.\n\nSo please, don't ask how the fuck I got here.\n\nI don't remember.", "I never asked for this job.\n\nDuring my time as one of the living I was a courier. It wasn't a great job, but it was easy. One day I was changing the station on my radio, and I didn't notice the car in front of me had stopped. I don't really remember dying but I assume the crash did it. People who come back supposedly from 'the brink of death' don't tell you that there's no-one here to take you in. You kind of just.. show up.\n\nI didn't know it was hell when I opened my dead eyes. It was a lot more bland. No lake of fire or burning pillars, just a stark concrete floor with metal doors. It's more like a open-plan prison than anything else. Real stark greys and bright fluorescent lighting.\n\nThere was a line to get in, and nothing else for me to do so I just queued like the rest of them. It could have been an hour wait, or a year, I can't really tell time any more, everything seems to just trudge along with no day and night cycle. When I did get to the front gate I was pulled out of the line and sent down a smaller door, I thought “yep, this is it.. here comes the torture and pain”, but I was wrong. A demon with a name I can't pronounce said I was randomly selected under the fair employment in Hell act of 1299 to work as a water salesman.\n\nIt didn't make any sense, I had died and gone to Hell, only to be given a job. They even housed me in a middle-class neighbourhood apartment block near my sell zone on the East side. It wasn't a great job, but it was easy. So it suited me well. I'd walk to my stand, sell water to the dead who wanted it, then go home when I was done for the day. Those who buy the water from me are pathetic really, you don't need to eat or drink now we're no longer living. The fools will grasp on to anything resembling the world they departed, trying to use these glimmers of normality as anchors for their sanity. They don't even live in an apartment like I do. They just wander around, telling others what they do for work, when we all know that there are no jobs in hell. Well, except my job. Did I tell you what I did? I sell water to these idiots who think they're going crazy living in Hell. Just because there's no sense of time here, and everything just trudges along without day or night.\n\nThey gave me an apartment with this job. It's just a walk away from here. On the West side.. or was it the East? I haven't been home in a while, I lost my key I think. It's okay I'll get a new one after I've finished work for the day. I've still got a lot of water to sell before I'm done. These fools.. they think they're losing a grip on their sanity.\n\nSometimes I miss being a courier, it seems that it's all I remember from my time alive. I'd transport those large water cooler jugs to offices. The idiots would keep buying water and calling me crazy till I went home to my apartment.\n\nI'd sell you some water but I must have ran out.. I think there's some left in my apartment.. it's on the North side." ]	3
	[WP]Our bacteria actually make up on personalities and minds. When we touch someone they influence us by the passing of bateria. When we use antibacterial products we kill ourselves a little.	[ "\"Are you ready, Amy?\" Amy sighed, eyeballing over the crime scene. Slowly she extended her arm, her fingers already starting to tingle from the swarm of decay bacteria floating around in the air. She dropped her fingers, placing them on the semen laying on the dead girls softly toned stomach. Holding back the contents of her lunch, Amy closed her eyes and watched the scene unfold. Like a train hitting a brick wall, the emotions hit her. Not only could she 'see' what had happened, she could feel it. The victims personality, emotions, last thoughts, were all flowing through her mind. Amy cried in pain, and feel back on her bottom. \"I saw him, we were right it was her uncle.\" The officer laid his head low, rubbing the top of his nose. He picked up his phone, and called in the go ahead to arrest him. Amy jumped up and ran out of the shabby motel room, hurling into a nearby bush. The officer patted her back lightly, \"Is it ever going to get easier?\" She asked in pain. \"I don't know babe..\" The officer stated, as he twirled his wedding ring around. \"I've got paperwork to fill out, will you be alright? Ill see you at home.\" Amy sighed lightly, \"Yeah..\"", "It's been long known that bacteria can be both a help and a hindrance. There are the bad kinds, the kinds that give you horrific infections, the type of bacteria which double or even triple the length of your hospital stay if you get infected. And then, there are the bacteria which help. the chill guys. The ones that hang out in your stomach, for instance, and help you digest food.\n\nWe never, not for for one second, ever entertained the idea that we needed them as much as we know now. Sure, it had been proven that without the bacteria which naturally exists on our body, the helpful guys, we can run into... complications. And these complications can lead to death. Everyone knew this. We had evolved and co-existed along these bacteria for so long that we need them to survive, or so was the theory.\n\nBut now we know they aren't just for survival. They are us. Literally. When they made that new drug, Prozesdrome, the 'super antibiotic', it was fantastic, to begin with anyway. Bacteria couldn't put up a resistance to it. Not one. 100% success rate, and if no bacteria can survive, then they can't evolve a resistance. Simply biology. Good-bye infections! We already knew work-arounds for living without the friendly bacteria, so all's good, for a time.\n\nThen the deaths started. \n\nThe globe got it's best and brightest together. We ran countless test on bacteria and the drug. The scientific movement was incredible. Think the space race, but the budget all focused on this one little chemical compound, and why it was causing people to drop dead days after popping it. Eventually it lead them to something. Not to some convoluted cause, as you might expect, like the drug causing your liver to fail or anything like that, but it lead us to the harmless bacteria, residing over all of us. The chill guys from before. They were the cause.\n\nThe testing continued. We found out things, which we would probably be better off not knowing. It's the bacteria. It has been all along. They are us. They control our personalities. They act as a huge hivemind. They are our thoughts, our conciousness. They are the power behind every great human invention or discovery there ever was. \n\nTurns out, the brain's cells are just about as much use as the rest of our body cells. No more sentient than the stuff making up my lungs. They are special, however, because they let the bacteria work their magic, just like one big control centre. When you take the drug you might as well be popping a cyanide. This isn't actually a problem in itself. We will still continue being us, living the same lives, going on in the same way. In fact, medicine will probably improve drastically. \n\nThe problem is that people can change their bacteria. Swap them. Become... manipulated. And unfortunately, there are people in this world looking to exploit such a flaw in human biology. \n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Life seems a constant fever dream.	[ "A fever can take you down, take you to bed where you shift and sweat. My sheets were creased and uncomfortable. I do not care to count the number of times I turn over. At least it’s not a headache. I am an optimist. It is romantic to face sickness with stubbornness, in my mind.\n\nIn the morning, the present brightness, I thought I had a chance. Cool air and some rest were good things to have. Fatigue is a tricky thing, and the blood sugar from a croissant, orange juice, as well as the routine shower all prepared me to crash again.\n\nMy forehead is warm to the touch, so I stop touching it. I close my eyes and feel the motion of the bus start to induce nausea. The bus stops with a screech and I bonk my head abruptly. Somehow it wasn't a crash, but I know I had betrayed myself, fallen by my own force.\n\nIt is one of the days I am thankful there is no one to talk to. Hopefully the rude tourists I am imagining disappear.\n\nA presentation and a group meeting, and I am dreadfully involved. The room: a confined chamber. The images slide by on a PowerPoint that is too bright, red and blue, and text is actually swimming in front of me. I know no one else is seeing my vision, a pointed tower, they are bored while sweat beads and I wipe it off. \nBrave face on and tackling problems, only with plans though, I’m not willing to expend effort on actually starting real work. \n\nSuddenly I see what the others in the group are trying to do, they weren’t bored, they are malevolent! Plotting like pawns trying to steal the queen’s power. Steal all my contributions and blame me, blame me, curse me. \n\nI spit full on in the face of one of them, grab all the papers I can and rush out, stumbling as the world tilts and I adjust for it. \n\nDown the hall trailing stuff, being followed. I turn a corner, run into a room, a doorway, the professor is a giant toad regurgitating facts. France is the most visited country in the World. Backwards out now, abandoning my load to sprint.\n\nI am in serious need of assistance. I walk into the super’s office and I am sure a bus crashed in the doorway, blue and red side doors opening up to let out a cavalcade of arrogant American visitors. I am attacked by everything red and blue and blinding white.\n\nThe last thing I remember is a concerned scream.\n", "The trees. All I remember of that night is the trees. And the stars. Although I wasn’t looking at them. I had my eyes glued to what was in front of me. Not behind. If I looked back, he would be behind me and it would have all been over then. Life before this was easy. Before I had any purpose, before I had to be brave, to be strong. Before my purpose for living was to protect my purposeless life. Then, it became a fever. A frantic, unending sickness that swirled everything I had ever known together until it was a blurred and dirty fusion of flesh and color. The trees, they were moving. Swaying with the wind I created with my body. They were jerked back so far I thought they might be uprooted. But no, they just swung about in their place, while the ground, like a treadmill, began moving backward so that no matter how fast I went I couldn’t get any further. Just stuck in the same place, with the same trees and stars and ground as I wore myself down until I could take no more and gave up and collapsed on the spot.\n\nI was running. My chest was heaving, my heart on fire with each painful breath I drew. My nostrils sucked all the air in and puffed it all out, again and again like a broken vacuum. It was almost as if I wasn’t in my body. As if I was a tree. Watching this great machine rocket past with every up down motion of the legs. It was as if I was me. But I wasn’t. The more the machine ran the more pain I felt, but I wasn’t the machine. Because he was just chasing the machine. Not me. I was a tree taking in all the pain and sickness so that the machine could keep on running. He didn’t want me. Because it wasn’t me his friend tried to force himself into. And it wasn’t me who hit the idiot with a rock all those times out of self-defense. And it wasn’t me he was trying to kill to avenge his friend. Just a scared, doe-eyed machine operated by bones and muscles instead of gears and levers, and wearing a suit of skin instead of steel. \n\nThere were needles on the ground.\nThe trees must have been evergreens.\n\nThey were evergreens. Tall and dignified. One of the only trees that didn’t lose all its leaves in winter. When all the other trees lost their leaves and became a symbol of winter’s barrenness, the bright green needles were a glimmer of color in a world turned temporarily grey. Except you have to be careful around the needles, or else they’ll prick your skin and make you bleed. And then the blood will drip down onto the snow, dying a microscopic piece of it red. Red, another glimmer of color, against that sad, white landscape. Yes, I remember the evergreens. Even now, years later. After the police and the trial and the publicity. After the suicide attempts, the group therapy, and the long nights spent either lying in bed scared of what lurks in the dark corners of my bedroom, or dreaming: Trapped in my own mind running from the same demon, on that same night with the trees and the stars and the moving floor. \n\nEvergreens live to be hundreds of years old.\nOr was it some other tree type?\n\nI remember thinking that while I watched the machine that I was and wasn’t run from the fiend. Was it evergreens? Or was it willows? Or even Yews? All those science classes, and I didn’t know how long different trees lived for. Either way, I kept running. At least he wasn’t very fast. That’s something to be grateful for. I managed to outrun him. Enough to get out of his line of sight. He came very close to me at some points. And I once sensed him as he drew closer, close enough to reach out to grab me, and brush the tips of my blonde hair that rippled between us. \n\nHe would have gotten me then. \nBut the trees saved my life.\n\nHe tripped on a stray branch. I heard him crash to the ground, rolling in the leaves and cursing. This allowed me to get ahead. And so I ran faster. He must have hurt something. Because he never got close to me again. And so I found a tree. A large, hollowed out tree that provided a small shell for me to climb into and hide. I waited there until daylight. I felt myself return to my body. I caught my breath. I rubbed my legs. I puked. I even laughed at the absurdity of the moment. And then I watched the stars. Millions of twinkling lights, staying in their place while everything else moved with the chaos around me. I counted the shooting stars. I looked for constellations. And watched as the moon fell from the sky and the sun rose. Up and down like a seesaw. I left my spot then, and found my way back to summer camp. It wasn’t hard, because when I ran I tried not to stray too far from the main hiking trail. But that awful night, I caught a fever. And life has since been a constant fever dream, where the line between fiction and reality, past and present, has been blurred to the point of being indistinguishable, and so I find myself always returning to a forest of evergreens.\n" ]	2
	[WP] A small town lives in terror of a young girl who can read minds	[ "\"Please, mommy, PLEASE! It's breaking your heart cuz you know it's wrong! You care what they all think and you're gonna let them make you do this?! Why MOMMY!?\" \n\nShe had big, shiny tears rolling down her chubby cheeks. Her eyes were red and glossy, too big for her little face. Her pigtails shook back and forth with her sobs.\n\nThe shovel kept digging into the dirt in their backyard, the pile beside the hole kept growing. \n\n\"I didn't know Mr. Kunkel would DO THAT to her! He LOVED her! I thought he needed to know what she did at the truck stop because it made him sick what she brought to him. GERMS MOMMY! I'M SO SORRY!\"\n\nHer mother did NOT look at her. She kept shoveling. Sweat was rolling down her back, her t-shirt was stuck to her spine. It was a hot, sunny summer day. \n\n\"But you're NOT digging to plant flowers, MOMMY! I don't WANT TO GO IN THE HOLE PLEASE!!! I LOVE YOU!\" \n\nThe girl, so small and fragile, bucked against the duct tape as hard as she could. The kitchen chair swayed some but didn't even come close to tipping.\n\n\"Daddy will come back mommy! He loves you, he's just scared but I'm SO SORRY! You know I didn't know he'd get fired and we'd get (abused? persecuted?) What's a scarlent lettuce? LETTER. I don't understand mommmy!\"\n\n\"I just want to go inside mommy! We can just watch t.v. or play dolls or... you HATE playing dolls with me? Oh, no mommy, no no NO! I WANT TO LIVE!!\"\n\nThe shovel clipped the girl's temple, and she was quiet. The only sounds were the dirt and the wind.", "This prompt has a remarkable semblance to a particular episode of the Twilight Zone. Here's the link: http://www.hulu.com/watch/440799 \n\nPlot obtained Wikipedia: Six-year-old Anthony Fremont looks like any other little boy, but looks can be deceiving: he is a monster, a mutant with godlike mental powers, including mindreading. Years before, he isolated his town of Peaksville, Ohio. Everybody is under his rule, even his parents. Anthony controls what goes on in the grocery store (Tomato Soup, Ham, etc.), he has also banned soap from the town for a year. He has blocked TV signals, caused cars to not work, and, due to him controlling everything, he does not attend school.\n\nThe children and adults, including his own parents, tiptoe nervously around him, constantly telling him how everything he does is \"good,\" since displeasing him can get them wished away into a mystical \"cornfield,\" an unknown place, from which there is no return. At one point, a dog is heard barking angrily. Anthony thinks the dog is \"bad\" and doesn't \"like [him] at all,\" and wishes it into the cornfield. His father and mother are horrified, but they dare not show it.\n\nOne night, due to the townsfolk having always done what he wants, he treats them to one hour of TV. He shows dinosaurs attacking each other; none of the other townsfolk enjoy it all, but tell him it was much better than anything that used to be on TV.\n\nFinally, at another townsperson's Birthday party, Dan Hollins, Dan gets two presents from his wife: a bottle of brandy and a Perry Como record. As he is eager to listen to the record, he is reminded by everyone that Anthony doesn't like singing. Getting slightly drunk from the brandy and complaining about not listening to Perry Como and no one singing \"Happy Birthday\" to him, Dan cannot take the strain anymore and confronts Anthony, calling him a monster and a murderer. While Anthony's anger grows, Dan yells for someone to kill Anthony from behind, and end his reign of terror. Aunt Amy (who isn't able to sing anymore because of Anthony) tentatively reaches for a fireplace poker, but no one has the courage to act. Anthony cries out to Dan, \"You're a bad man! You're a very bad man! And you keep thinking bad thoughts about me!\" and points at him. Dan is killed by being transformed into a jack-in-the-box with his human head, causing his now-widowed wife to break down. The adults are horrified at what Anthony has done, and his father begs him to wish it to the cornfield, which he does.\n\nBecause of Amy's earlier complaints about the heat, Anthony causes snow to begin falling outside. His father observes that the snow will kill off at least half the crops, and as he is about to confront Anthony about this, his wife and the other adults look on with worried smiles on their faces. The father then smiles and tells Anthony in a horror-tinged voice, \"...But it's good you're making it snow. A real good thing. And tomorrow... tomorrow's gonna be a... real good day!\"\n", "Sterling only had one friend, a rather dumpy girl named Joanna. Joanna was simple and always smiling. Nothing Joanna thought was dangerous and hurtful. There was no reason not to love the blonde girl, she glowed with sunshine and rainbows. \n\nEveryone else? Fair game. \n\nIt began when Sterl was in second grade. She heard a faint rush of hatred, then someone was shoving her against a wall and calling her a monster. \"Daughter of a slut.\" \n\nThat is how she found out Daddy wasn't dead. He was actually her principal. Her mother had been stupid. It was part of the reason Sterl believed her powers were a punishment. Now she had to hear all the horrid things people thought about her and her mother.\n\nSo she didn't care when other people got hurt. She told when people were cheating. She would walk into the police station and tell them about the robbery about to take place. \n\nPeople thought she was a freak. All but Joanna. \n\nShe didn't care. She never would.", "It started when Sarah was six. \n\n\"Daddy?\" she'd said. \"Why did you 'rest Mister Jones?\"\n\nHer father, Sherriff Bronson, barely looked up. \"Mister Jones did a bad thing, sweetheart.\"\n\nShe took a few bites of her oatmeal, chewing silently. The sherriff turned the page of his newspaper, and took another sip of coffee.\n\n\"He didn't, though,\" she said. \"Mister Thomas did.\"\n\nIt didn't register at first. Then her father glanced up. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Mister Thomas took that little boy. The one that got dead.\"\n\nBronson inhaled sharply. \"Sarah, why would you say that?\" A sudden thought struck him. \"Did you see something, baby? Or hear something?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"He said it in him mind,\" she said in her lispy voice.\n\nMr. Thomas was guilty, though. Sarah was right. And after that she was always right. It took nearly a year to figure out what was going on. Soon, the whole town knew. Little Sarah Bronson could read minds.\n\nDespite a few concerns at first, there was never much of a problem because of it. In fact, knowing the Sherriff had a little lie detector at home had people on their best behavior. \n\nThere'd never been much violent crime in town -- that boy's murder had been the first in a decade -- but non-violent crime had virtually ceased. No more break-ins at the pharmacy or the convenience store. Drug use was virtually eliminated. \n\nThe Sherriff put a quick halt to any cases of child or domestic abuse. Men and women ended long-standing affairs, and went home to their families.\n\nPeople were, for the most part, happy. And they started to take Sarah for granted.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Has everyone finished their homework?\" the teacher would ask.\n\nHer eyes would shoot to Sarah, who gave a brief shake of her head. Billy Thomas, sullen and withdrawn after his father's conviction, stood up. \"I din't do it cause I was sick,\" he said. He glared at Sarah, daring her to contradict him.\n\nShe didn't notice. When the teacher glanced her way again, she spoke. \"He was watching a new TV show,\" she said.\n\nBilly stayed inside that day at recess.\n\nAfter school, he grabbed ahold of Sarah. \"Why don't you mind your own business, freak?\" he said. Then he hit her.\n\nWhen she was laying bruised on the ground, he leaned in. All of her classmates were gathered around them, their bodies blocking the teachers' view. \"If you tell anyone,\" Billy said. \"I'll be in trouble for a few days. But they won't lock me up with Daddy. I'm just a kid. And in a few days, I'll get you again.\"\n\nSarah read the truth in his words, and learned to lie.\n\n\"What happened, Sarah?\" her father asked that night.\n\n\"I ran in front of the swings, Daddy.\"\n\n\"Aw, baby.\" He took her into his arms, and she sobbed for a long while.\n\nSarah was fair game at school now. The other kids began to tease her. After a year or two, they forgot why they'd started. They forgot to be afraid.\n\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAngela was one of Sarah's oldest tormentors. Her dream was to go to a fancy college. She had perfect grades.\n\nAfter the big test, Sarah paused near Angela's now empty desk. Then she approached the teacher. \n\n\"Ms. Appleton?\" she said. \"I don't want to tattle, but ...\"\n\n\n\"What is it, Sarah?\"\n\n\"During the test, Angela kept thinking about a paper under her desk. It had all the answers on it.\"\n\nMs. Appleton didn't want to believe it, but everyone knew Sarah always told the truth.\n\nAnd Angela's perfect record was irrevocably marred by her expulsion.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nRobby, one of Billy's closest friends had always been cruel to Sarah. He got drugs in his locker. It was easy to break in, when you could grab the combination from someone's mind.\n\nFor years, she worked, paying back each of her classmates in a manner that fit their crime. Billy she saved for last.\n\nHe'd dropped out of school at sixteen, and had a son of his own.\n\nSarah read his schedule from his thoughts. She knew where he kept his gun. His son barely knew what hit him.\n\nAnd Billy followed his own father to prison.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nSeveral years later, her enemies vanquished, Sarah held her four year old daughter on her lap.\n\n\"What's content mean?\" the girl asked.\n\n\"It means happy,\" Sarah said. \"Where'd you hear that?\"\n\n\"You were just thinking it,\" her daughter said.\n\nAnd Sarah smiled.", "Judy's reign of innocent terror started small. She peeled away the white lies with sidelong glances and dried up the social lubricant of Newtonville. Like when she told Johnny's mother that her husband really didn't like her casserole after all , or when she informed the pie club at school that everyone really liked muffins.\n\nYeah. Small stuff.\n\nEven when it went big people got upset, but they weren't really scared. Like when she told the police that Old Man Hammond wasn't burying bulbs in that garden of his, or that at least one of the nuns at the convent had had an abortion. \n\nSee the thing is, people didn't mind hearing about other's sins. Oh sure. It caused some stress and more than a few police investigations. But it really wasn't that awful. All in all it felt like a giant cleanse for the town. You can't clean your dirty laundry after all until you air it. \n\nBut then she started telling people their own thoughts. She went right up to her third grade teacher, Mrs. Emma, and whispered in her ear, \"I know you wanna kill Tommy in the back row. I know you wanna slam that pencil up his nose and write quadratic equations on his brain, because maybe then he wont fail the state exam and get you fired.\" Another time she grabbed her mommy bey the hand and told her \"I have a secret to tell you.\" \n\nHer mommy thought the girl was going to tell her that her husband thought she looked fat. \n\nInstead the girl whispered in a sad sing-song, \"Why are you still with daddy? I know you don't love him anymore.\" \n\nThat was they first tried locking her up. \n\nBut she just whispered to the jailers. \n\n\"I know you think you should kill me. It doesn't matter that I'm little. You think I'm dangerous.\" \n\nOnce she said that everyone just got angrier. Because now they couldn't kill her or make her leave. Because that would be what she had predicted. \n\nA gag didn't work either.\n\nBecause she'd just stare at with those eyes of hers. \n\nAnd you'd realize that there's nothing scarier than your own reflection in her black, hungry pupils. \n\n", "It is okay to hate me. The thought whisks though my head, even though no one else can hear it except me.\n\nIt is okay to be afraid, you should be. I take a bite of the cupcake my older sister had prepared for me, to appease my curiosity and the urge to blurt her secret boyfriend to our folks; it is working, I am enjoying my own senses, not divulging into the memories and thoughts of others.\n\nFor now.\n\nThey all wear masks, but I truly enjoy their true faces, it amuses me. After the truth comes out, their pretenses fade, and they become who they are.\n\nThere is father now, pulling up on the driveway with his old beat up truck, he has something that will surprise me.\n\nNot. I take another bite, indulging in its sweetness.\n\n\"Alese!\" He calls without thinking, typical. He pauses a moment to form his words, why bother when I can read them? Still, he does it out of habit, the jumble of sentences finally forming as:\n\n\"Look what I got you!\" He whips out a slice of cake, and before he can explain, I knew it was cream frosting with chocolate cake inside, my favorite.\n\n\"Thank you, Father.\" I smile, at least his intentions is to give me treats, sort of in a puppy dog way, but it counts.\nUnlike the rest of the neighbors... Who are arriving with their offerings now.\n\n\"Nah,\" I cross my legs and plop them onto the table, taking a quick moment to smooth out my shorts and straighten my sandals.\n\n\"I am bored of sweets, I'm in the mood for pea soup at the moment.\"\n\nWHAT!? The young woman could not say her word, only gasp.\n\n\"B-But it took hours to bake!\"\n\n\"Liar, those are bought from the store.\" I scoff,\n\n\"I'll take canned soup, if you're that willing to cut corners.\"\n\nAt that, my neighbors scatter like roaches.\n\n\"Alese!\" My mother calls from in the kitchen,\n\n\"Don't forget to remind them to get us some eggs and milk too!\"\n\nA smile breaks my face, and I laugh before roaring out loud enough for them to hear:\n\n\"AND BRING ME EGGS AND MILK!\"\n\nAhhh, what a wonderful day to be alive~", "I was the first to arrive, so it fell to me to open the windows, clear the worst of the dust from the table, pull up the chairs. By the time the fifth and last of us had arrived, the sun had begun to slink away, but none of us moved to turn the lights on. \n\nI guess we all felt the same way, that somehow it would be easier to have this conversation in the dark. \n\nAnn broke the silence. She was the eldest, and though we had sought to have as flat a hierarchy as we could when we first founded this community, she was the unspoken leader of just over two hundred pioneers trying to eke out a living this far north of the wildlands.\n\n“Good evening, fellow town leaders. It’s been four months, as agreed. What are your reports?” Steely, unwavering, but curiously not devoid of warmth. Ann was as capable of emotions as any other, but she knew when business had to be done.\n\n“I vote no,” William began, “just as I had voted no the last we met. In fact, I don’t know why we’re still here talking about this.” A note of anger crept into his voice. “I’ve observed her, closely, and there is nothing to indicate…”\n\n“But did you do as I warned? Did you stay out of sight, completely?” The words tumbled out of my mouth. A chilly icicle formed in the pits of my stomach. If William had not been careful, then this was all for naught.\n\n“Yes I did,” he snapped. Was that a flash of annoyance on his face? “I’m well aware of what she’s capable of. And that’s why I worked through the rest of the staff. I have here with me twenty-two reports from the teachers under me, all of which indicate that she’s as normal as the rest of them… well, as normal as her powers allow her to be. I even had to ask for reports on other children as well, just so that no one got suspicious.”\n\nTraci stirred. “Normal? What do you mean by that?”\n\n“Well, her cognitive and social skills are developing in line with national standards. We tested her in isolation, so that she cannot consciously or unconsciously pick up answers from anyone else… so far she’s doing well, quite above-average. The other children were initially afraid of what she could do, but they’ve come to accept her. She has friends, or so I’m told...” \n\nFor a moment this felt like a normal parent-teacher conference update. Just a single, fleeting moment.\n\n“Long story short, I vote no.” William sat back in his chair, lips pursed. It was clear that he had much more to say, but we all appreciated the brevity. None of us wanted another repeat of that marathon two-day debate we had the last time, when we almost came to blows.\n\nTraci was next. “If you’re going to be stubborn, William, then so can I. My vote is still yes. And my report’s much shorter. Ever since I took her in for vocation training at my cookhouse, I’ve seen more broken friendships and relationships than I ever have before. I say this again - there’s no place for her here!” \n\nThe table strained under the force of Traci’s heavy-handed thump. In a town this small, we had heard the stories too, how one quiet Sunday afternoon two young lovers having a tiff had accosted the girl as she served lunch, and asked her, in flagrant disregard of all the rules and warnings we had in place, who was cheating on whom.\n\nIt didn’t matter what the girl said. It only mattered that it led to a fracas, then a brawl, then a full-scaled mini-riot as the first few questions loosened a torrential flood of other questions from all the bystanders at the scene. Oh, Curiosity, how underrated your effect on all of us are. \n\nBy the time I arrived to help restore order, the madness had already descended, and everyone was in its grip. Have you ever seen a cafeteria wrecked by adults fighting each other because some ugly truth had come to light? Where yet others were clawing just to get to some girl, some not-so-ordinary girl, who was sitting in a corner and bawling as the thoughts from people’s minds leapt straight into her and out her mouth? Well, I have, and no, it wasn’t pretty.\n\nIt was up to Ann to move it along again. “Father Peter? Have you had time to reflect upon this?”\n\nFather Peter, who was comically almost half Ann’s age, weighed in sonorously. “The scripture offers nothing, and I have yet to receive any guidance from Him. And though I cannot say what He has planned for her, the only answer I have is that it is not up to us to judge. My vote is no.” \n\nAnd not another word we got out of Father Peter.\n\nAs they turned to me, I took a deep breath, hoping that my carefully rehearsed choice of words would disguise the guilt and anxiety racking me. \n\n“She has, on weekends, been training with the other hunters under my wing. I have nothing to report about that, she’s as ordinary as the rest of them. But last month… last month one of the hunting dogs nipped her in the shin. It wasn’t bad, just a graze, but it bled quite a lot, and she was so scared she would die.”\n\n“We handled it the same as we would in any other case. We disciplined the dog, and got the girl fixed up. No one else thought anything about it. But then the dog disappeared. We thought it had run wild and escaped, as they sometimes do. And I wouldn’t have known better if purely by chance I hadn’t seen the girl leave the forest one day by herself, when she shouldn’t have been there at all.”\n\n“So I waited till she left, then I went in the woods and tracked her movements. I found the dog, deep inside. The same dog. It was tied to a tree, and it hadn’t been fed in days. It looked like it had been beaten. It whimpered at me.”\n\n“For this report, for this damned report, I didn’t do anything. Because I had to know. So I left, and came back a few days later. And the dog was gone.”\n\nMy audience around the table had gone quiet. I looked down and found my knuckles red and raw from the way I had ground them against the table legs in my struggle for composure. \n\n“Later, I asked some of the boys to casually ask her about her whereabouts, on the pretext that I had found wasp nests in the woods and wanted them to steer clear. They say she laughed and said she had never gone in alone.”\n\n“So, do I have doubts? Yes. It may not have been her. I may have been seeing things. Someone else could have done it. But I have doubts. And we only have one chance. And so, may the Lord have mercy on my soul… I vote yes.”\n\nTears had come unbidden to my eyes, and they slaked down my cheeks, leaving hot wet trails of shame. That was my defining moment in my life, when for fear of the unknown, for fear of my own safety and that of the people I loved, I chose to strike first, even when I still had doubts.\n\nAfter an eternity, Ann spoke. “We have two nays, and two ayes. I am, it seems, the split vote. Well, this is what I ask myself, what I’ve been asking myself. Can we account for why she suddenly developed these powers to read the minds of others? Can we say what effect she would have on the world, whether she would usher in untold advancements or cause immense strife? Even if we tried our best to raise her as well as we could, who’s to say our values are right?”\n\n“To me, it boils down to this. Life, luck, fate, destiny, whatever you may call it, conspired to give her these powers. There may or may not be a grander plan to this all. But it will fall to them again to determine if the girl lives past this very night. Aye for heads, nay for tails.”\n\nWith those words, Ann retrieved a coin and flipped. \n\nAnd as that coin spun, twirled, pirouetted in the air, the universe held its breath.\n", "“Sweetie, your mom and I want to let you know it’s okay to lie sometimes.” Dale and Christie held hands, their fingers laced as they peered down on their daughter.\n \n“I know,” Amy looked at them, her eyes furrowed. Her face scrunched a little, followed by pain masked in vague understanding. “It’s okay mommy, if I had a daughter like me, I’d want to leave her too.”\n\nChristie felt Dale grip her hands a little more firmly. \n\nOn the outside, Amy was an average six year old girl. It wasn’t until she opened her mouth and spoke words well beyond her years that others realized she was anything but ordinary. Her parents knew she was gifted the moment she uttered her first words; they were neither “mama” nor “dada,” but a simple haunting “me burden.” As it turned out, Christie had regretted her entire pregnancy, but carried on because Dale wanted her to. Not even seeing the face of her new daughter was enough to make her love her. Externally, well timed smiles and false gleamings of pride covered her lack of maternal love, but Amy could see through that when no one else could. \n\n“What, no… I love you.” Christie felt the blood rush to her face as she willed herself to lie deep enough to convince herself. She couldn’t.\n\n“Don’t be silly. I can lie to you, but you can’t lie to me.” Amy chewed on her lip. It was a beautiful summer day and she had wanted to play outside, but the comfort of her bedroom was more appealing after that revelation. \n\nShe had little interest in toys. The darkness that others kept so expertly hidden under layers of complex motions was always plainly clear to the small child. Her mind had long let go of childhood naiveté and embraced the idea that everyone was made of good and bad intentions. Instead, she spent her days drawing. It was the only thing that made her feel like a child. She may have understood the intricacies of the human condition, but she still had to hand coordination of a six year old. \n\nShe was counting the red leaves that fell from Autumn trees when she saw Christie pack a few bags in her car and drive off. The whispering echo of “freedom” that only Amy could hear let her know she probably wouldn’t see her mother for a while. \n\nSnow had fallen, and Amy was a year older. She spent a quiet birthday with her dad. She had invited her class, but no one had showed up; she had burned many bridges. Though she knew she could lie, she had a hard time doing so. Mr. Baker across the street was sleeping with Mrs. Anderson two houses down. Dr. Penn down the block had an extensive collection of child pornography, and his wife knew but didn’t do anything about it. Mrs. Hall was pregnant, but it wasn’t her husband’s child. Mr. Haven beat his family. \n\nAmy was Pandora’s box, and every unwilling confession that entered her mind, she made known. It was partly compulsion and partly her wanting to do what was right. Many were sent to jail, others had their home lives torn apart. The broken and bitter divorced had vandalized Dale’s car on numerous occasions. The children of newly created two-home families often egged her house. Others had learned to keep their distance if it meant keeping their secrets silent. \n\nShe picked at the frosting on her cake. “Daddy, do you hate what I am?” \n\n“No, sweetie. You’re good, and I love you more than anything. People just don’t like having their lies uncovered.”\n\n“Mommy loved you, you know. She loved you a lot. She just hated me more.”\n\nDale’s eyes glossed over, tears threatening to come out. \n\n“If mommy couldn’t love you as much as I love you, then I can’t love her either.”\n\nWhen no contradictory echo entered her mind, when no statement or feeling of hatred pierced the lovely bubble of her reality, Amy smiled. She only felt the warm embrace of one soul that loved her unconditionally, and it was all she needed. \n" ]	8
	[WP] A stranger approaches you and points a gun to your head. "I'm sorry, but we will explain everything at the reset. Hopefully we'll have a fighting chance now that we have you..." He pulls the trigger.	[ "They must've got the wrong one.\n\nIt's okay. I have that kind of face. Or had, I guess. I can't say I have much of a face at this point. \n\nThe same sentiment rings true for the face I used to have, now scattered on the floor before the body it used to define, inside-out and painted crimson with pulp of what was my frontal lobe. \n\nIt looks painful. I don't know if it was. I think it was. I think it must've been.\n\nIt's clearly painful for the remaining corporeal beings in the room. I'm not sure what else to expect when you put a loaded high caliber weapon to the back of another man's head and pull the trigger, but this was definitely not the result they anticipated. The only one with any semblance of composure is the dog, who just whimpers, licks the speckles of my blood from his chops, and settles on his haunches.\n\nThe man holding the dog is not nearly as calm. That's understandable, considering he was the only one facing me as the bullet entered–and violently exited–my head. The handler stood at a 45 degree angle to me, holding back the dog on a considerably short chain. Prior to my execution, the two had put on a great show, each trying to out-bark the other. It might well have terrified me, in its own right, but at the time my attention was rather focused on the barrel of a gun pressed unnecessarily forcefully against the peak of my skull. \n\nIn the end, the show I put on for him was significantly more effective.\n\nThough they he positioned himself what should have been a safe distance away, a good portion of me had sprayed across the handler and his dog, a bright contrast against his all black attire. Now shot, now ethereal and now somehow fixed above and throughout this scene, I watch as his eyes expand beyond the size allowed beneath the holes of his knit ski mask. His body starts convulsing, rattling rhythmically as if one reversed the resonance of a banged gong, exponentially building to his explosive \"Fuck.\"\n\nAs if waiting for this audible cue, the one in the corner vomits. It's a full-body, doubled-over-on-your-knees vomit. Whatever weapon he was holding hangs loosely on his neck as he partially spews on it with his yellow stink. Tucked away in the dark corner behind the scene, clutching an automatic rifle the size of his torso, he must have been trying so hard to look so stern. Yet I hadn't even noticed he existed until I no longer did.\n\nHis stream is fully expunged before the \"Fuck\" even finishes bouncing off the walls. The lone woman in the room (I'm pretty sure she's a woman ) is now in front of the gun-wielder, between him and the chair in which I was seated, where the body I had worn had been sitting. She pleads with gunman, beats him with her fists, screams her fucking head off at him. \"What did you do?\" \"Were is the reset?\" \"Who the fuck was that?\"\n\nThe gunman only stands, his arm still erect, holding the gun in the same spot my head had been. A yellow pool beneath his left foot adds to the abundance of bodily fluids filling the room.\n\nThen the feed cuts off.\n\nI can't say why it was on for so long. My brain wasn't intact, and yet my thoughts were–are–intact. They're strong and unstoppable, completely unquenchable, adrift without stimulation in this soft dark nothing. For those final moments, what living tissue was left of my mind to carry me through that scene? I didn't just watch or hear or see; for the dwindling instance of my life, I became that room. And now, in this total deconstruction of time and matter, what's left of me to be abandoned in this eternal circle of thought?\n\nI wish I knew a bit more. Though, I suppose that's the great wish of the dead. For all the closure and resolution found in the films and the books and the ballads of the living, nothing prepares you for the questions never answered in the absence of your life. without even a hand to count to track the time or an eye to see it, I can't measure how long I've been left to thinking. I'll just call it an eternity. I turn these impossible observations over and over, playing them forwards and backwards as well as I can, buy all I'll ever know, for certain, never changes. I was killed by a bunch of kids who thought you could reset life.", "I phased. My surroundings blurred and as the stranger's finger twitched on the trigger I stepped forward, through the gun, through his hand, through his body. The world jerked back into motion just as the Glock's hammer fell and the muzzle barked. I kicked sharply backwards, the heel of my boots raking down his calf, the sudden unexpected impact bringing him to his knees. I turned, my hands grasping for his chin. I braced myself and in one fluid movement I had twisted his head just so, the faint click and sudden dead weight confirming my kill. He died with confusion lit clearly across his features and a thin trickle of blood dripping slowly from his left nostril.\n\nThe headaches that phasing brought on were getting worse. My temple throbbed, the pounding in my ears so loud that it almost felt like someone shouting at me, screaming my name over and over. I grasped at my forehead, hands shaking, red mist clouding my sight. It felt as though every vein in my body was about to burst. I opened my mouth in a rictus, soundless howl of pain. On the verge of blacking out, my vision suddenly cleared, and the throbbing died down, almost as quickly as it had started. Sweat beading on my brow, I looked down at my hands and took a deep breath. Definitely getting worse.\n\nI glanced around. The street was quiet, but that gun shot would have attracted attention. A quick search through the stranger's pockets yielded nothing of consequence. The Glock, a spare magazine and an unmarked pen drive. No wallet, badge or discernible I.D. Black Ops then. They were closing in on me. \n\n\"No Reset. This time.\"\n\nI jumped, the sudden voice startling me out of the autonomous reverie I had been in. To my right, a shadow crouched in an open doorway. My heckles rose. Although the shadow was in direct sunlight, I couldn't make out any features. He was blurred, almost incorporeal. My eyes seem to slide away from his form before I could register any details. \n\n\"You're getting stronger David. But you lack control. If the Phage takes you before we can train you...better to let them Reset.\"\n\n\nWithout thinking, I raised the Glock and fired. The shadow disappeared and reappeared always staying slightly ahead of every shot, strafing left and right, each movement bringing him closer my position. The Glock clicked empty and the shadow engulfed me. \n\n\n\n ", "BLAM!\nThat is what the flag says. My mind racing I fall backwards in an attempt to dodge the \"bullet.\" Too late, of course. If it were a bullet I would have been long dead. The guy laughs and pulls off his mask my shock begins to lessen and I realize...\nIt is Ashton Kutcher. ", "BANG!\n\nDream? No, real. Edgar thought, and the thought expanded. Light squirmed and stretched around him as his consciousness zipped and swerved in a mad dance across space. He barely had time to wave goodbye to little Pluto before he was past the outer rim of the Solar System, if one could call whatever his now bodiless jumble of thoughts did waving.\n\nOne moment passed and he saw it. Three moments passed and he was there. Tyinzak was a Z-Class planet on the outskirts of the Brand Nebula, about six folds from Edgar’s home planet of Yimin. Bugger! He thought as his mind shrunk down from a light-year jumping expanse into a Yimini brain. He always wished that the Resetters would figure out a better way to release a soul besides shooting the prison body in the head. That certainly can’t help with the pain of reentry.\n\nMany thousands of years had passed since the Yimini population reached its soul capacity and babies started popping out of the womb, stillborn and soulless. The holy men started thumping on the holy books, claiming our current life model had reached its point of planned obsolescense, and that the holy thing to do was accept the designers’ wishes and walk hand in hand into nothingness. Thankfully though, a heretical cult of rationals had predicted this possible evolutionary outcome and put into place the Doomsday Endless Reincarnation Scheme. Once the program was active, upon death each Yimini soul was sucked up into one of the DERS’s cosmic vacuums and spat back out into a soulless vat grown body.\n\nBut the problem with having immortality was eventually someone was going to find you and want in on the secret. The longer you play the game the worse the odds after all.\n\n“Bugger!” said Edgar, from his new mouth this time. “Twenty-three times I’ve done that now, and it’s never not smarted.” He held up his hands. Six fingers on each. Not a dream.\n\nHe was on a gurney in a Reset Return Center, and the glaring of the overhead lights wasn’t helping his headache. Hearing his exclamation, a nurse walked over and began checking his vitals. “What’s your name, sweetling?” She said in her cheerful bedside manner.\n\n“Edgar,” he said. “Ah, no. That’s residue from the jump. Yimini name is Tym Vole.”\nThe nurse’s eyes widened slightly at the name and walked over to a wall comp. The lights of it flicked on, and she spoke to the face that appeared on the screen. “Doctor, please let the Leadership know that prisoner Tym Vole has been reset.”\n\nThirty minutes later, the doctor arrived with two men in the crisp, form-fitting uniforms of the Leadership Council. “Good to have you back in our neck of the universe, Vole,” said one of the agents. Tym-Edgar thought he recognized him. He probably did, but wasn’t going to push his mind so close after a reset.\n\n“How long was I on Earth? Six months?” said Tym-Edgar.\n\n“Little over three years,” replied the second agent.\n\nThe last memory before soul imprisonment on Earth started fading into clarity. He was in a ship, but it wasn’t Yimini. Ah, Qrrzuk ship, he thought. Right, we are at war. The only other memory coming through was the beady grey bug eyes of the Qrrzuk crew member that popped him with the Soul Net. The Qrrzuk may not have wrested the secret of reincarnation from the Yimini yet, but they figured out how to temporarily neutralize it. They arrived about 1200AR (After Reincarnation). They weren’t the first species to show up claiming they were the new life model and that the Yimini had to hand over DERS’s secrets or face genocide, but they were certainly the most tenacious.\n\n“So I failed.” Tym-Edgar looked away, disappointed.\n\n“Not exactly. You sent back a fragment of a fragment right before you were netted, wiped, and soul-shipped off to Prison Earth,” said the first agent. Tym-Edgar turned back towards them. “It took us those three years you were gone to piece it together, but you completed the mission, Vole. You found the home world.”\n\nTym-Edgar smiled with his pointed teeth. “Then let’s go show the buggy bastards that they’re the ones who are obsolete.”", "My men control the ship, while I monitor the battlemap holographically laid out in front of me.\n\nThe Qurxil are a race of insectoids known primarily for their brutal nature and alleged teleportation capabilities. They just appeared one day, a massive fleet floating above the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Western Europe, and surgically lasered Calais from the map, vaporising all that were in that part of France.\n\nThen they, in the immortal words of European president Timothy Pontdeux, \"Buggered off that-away\", and humanity has been pushing harder than ever to have a space capable defence and offence fleet, ready to strike back at the insectoid race.\n\nWe found them, in an otherwise unremarkable nebula, far away from anywhere that could possibly be their home planet, if they even have one, and see the ship that every schoolchild above the age of 6 has seen images of.\nThe ship that attacked Earth and then left for no given reason.\n\nWe hailed them. Neutral, but inquisitive, and a statement of irritation. Their language, picked up from the trail of signals they sent back at us as we followed their movement through the galaxy, our FTL just barely able to move faster than their teleportation hops.\n\n\nMy fleet wait, as we detect life signs erupting into frenzied activity on the potentially enemy ship.\n\nAn answer comes.\n\n\n\"I'm sorry. but we will explain everything at the reset. Hopefully we'll have a fighting chance now we have you...\"\n\nThey opened fire, and as the gigantic laser blast fires through my head, I see, in my final moments, images of ant-like creatures speaking, talking, and I know they are transmitting memories into our minds. Maybe. Or they're killing us with something with a telepathic component.\n\nI reintegrate on a planet somewhere.\n\nIt's as I see French street signs, and distant, almost primal, yet alien memories of a biological bomb in the supermarchė in front of me, that I set about my new, implanted mission to try and defuse a bomb that could and nearly did wipe out the human race. Had a giant cannon not been fired at it.\n\nI question why the Qurxil did not do this themselves, but then thoughts of a Prime Directive style non-interference policy appeared, which they loopholed around by using time travel to make the 'primitive' species save itself, then having the primitive suddenly vanish and replace their future self in the 'fixed' timeline, ensuring nobody would know of the danger they faced, and the primitive being labelled a madman by their peers.\n\nI did my duty, and saved the human race, the bomb and supermarket vanishing as I returned to the future.\nNobody will believe me, and I have skills for commanding a space fleet that does not exist using technology that does not exist and a lifetime of preparing for a war that was over in seconds.\n\nIt is now 2015. What once was a futuristic space empire of innovation has been stifled by aliens who wanted to reduce the number of human lives lost at a crucial point.\n\nI hop on Reddit and post my tale in a form that would be accepted by the populace.\nA story to humanity, to entertain and tell of potential greatness that was taken.\nTo the Qurxil? A warning.\n\nWe have risen once, and we can rise again. We just need the motivation.\n\nGo ahead. Poke the beast. See it roar.\nSee it escape the confines of the cage your 'help' has put it in.\n\nSee it pounce.\n\nWe are coming.", "He pulled the trigger.\n\nClick\n\nThe chamber was empty but my unit didn't know that. They opened fire shredding the protestor to bits with their high powered military ammunition. The fire continued through his already lifeless body into the crowd behind him. \nI can't stop it. No one can stop it now. \n\nIt was supposed to be a peaceful protest. Even our unit leaders said so, but our unit was created to patrol these marches in order to \"Maintain order\". People cried foul... but they always cried foul. We were just doing our job.\n\nI was just doing my job. I had only been on the force a short while. I hadn't even drawn my gun on a perp before. \nWhat was this guy thinking. What was going through his mind.\nSomething about a reset. About explaining something. What was wrong with him. This wasn't the Matrix for God's Sake.\n\nThe spray of blood snapped me out of my revery. The form in front of me was no longer a human. It was meat that had been put through a grinder. Chaos flowed behind it. The stench of death as my unit ripped into the marchers. Signs proclaiming \"More Money to Teach, Less Money to Kill\" hit the ground. Screams filled my mind.\nAnd still I stood there frozen.\n\nCould I let this happen? He was clearly mad. Had he meant for this to happen?\n\nBut.... Why had we been here? They were only teachers... parents... children. Did we need riot police to protect against that?\n\nMaybe we needed a reset. ", "Poof!\nConfetti everywhere. \n\"OOOHHHHH YHAHA WE GOT YOU LOL!!! THAT WAS AWESOME\"\n\nYou sit down, trembling, thinking \"What the hell was that??\" \nYour heart is racing. You remember your condition. Panic ensues. The stranger approaches you, now followed by a woman with a camcorder. \n\nIn the midst of your traumatic experience, you hear them say:\n\"DUDE it's just a prank, this is GUARANTEED A MILLION VIEWS! HIGH FIIIIIVE BRO!\"\n\nHe holds out his hand expecting a high five. You collapse. ", "I woke up in a daze. My body felt as if I had took a 40-foot cannonball dive into a pool of deep water, and I was now letting my limbs float in the blue abyss, seeing nothing but a dim light above the surface. My movement was slow as I kept trying to repeat the same words over and over again – then, the dim light turned into a face above me, and I finally heard what I was saying: “Wait, I’m a doctor.”\n\n“Are you alright David?” the man above me asked. He looked worried. Who’s David?\n\n“Who’s David?” I asked. But the voice that came from my mouth was not mine. It was a man’s voice – in fact, it was a voice that I had heard recently. Shivering, I remembered who it belonged to: the man who shot me. I closed my eyes and tried to remember word for word what he had said.\n\nI’m sorry, but we will explain everything at the reset. Hopefully we’ll have a fighting chance now that we have you.\n\nAnd then the bang. And then dark. And then water…\n\n“The reset?” I asked. I was no longer laying down and I turned to look at the man beside me, whose eyes had now widened. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t put a finger on it.\n\n“The mission…” he gasped, as his eyes trailed slowly to the side in thought. They darted instantly back to me. “Come with me.”\n\nDespite my pleas, I ended up following him out of the room and down a long, expansive hallway; the building or structure we were in seemed luxurious and modern, but in a retro kind of way, as if I had seen pictures of it in a history textbook. Hurriedly, we walked into a meeting room full of people. It was spacious, with a rectangular, wooden table in the center. At the end sat a large but sickly-looking man who was clearly the leader.\n\n“Everyone who is not a part of the committee… out,” the leader spoke in a deep, commanding voice. He coughed lightly a couple of times, but soon it turned into frightening, coughing fit; the people leaving the room looked back in fear as they scurried away towards the door. I caught a glimpse of a young girl hurrying away with the crowd. Why did all of this seem familiar?\n\nNow that only the appropriate people were in the room, the leader spoke again.\n“David Reyes and Mark Tivly… I assume you have an update for me.”\n\n“Yes,” the man beside me began to say, “the mission. It’s complete. This… this isn’t David.”\n\nThe leader’s eyes widened as he looked at me, and I looked away in fear. I knew now who this man was: the first emperor. But if I recalled correctly, he died of a terrible illness, and was succeeded by a more ruthless ruler who came to control the colony as we knew it.\n\n“And so then… we finally have someone who can cure me,” the emperor said. “Do you know how long it took? Who the target was, or is?”\n\nSomething felt off.\n\n“No,” said Mark.\n\nThis wasn’t right.\n\n“Good.”\n\nAlmost instantly, a man appeared behind Mark with a gun pointed to his head. Mark didn’t know what was coming.\n\nAfter the trigger was pulled, a little girl could be heard screaming at the doorway.\n\n“Daddy!” she shrieked.\n\n“Damn!” yelled the emperor. “This room was supposed to be secure!”\n\nA couple of shady men led the girl out of the room.\n\n“Mark was a liability,” the emperor said while regaining his composure. “I couldn’t trust him. If the enemy knew of our secret weapon…”\n\nHe slowly nodded at me. I instinctively pulled out the gun I was carrying – the same gun that was used to end my life. Or my previous life, rather.\n\n“I don’t know why it decided to reset to today,” said the emperor, “but know now that you must do what I say. You have no choice in the matter – you will not gain your old life back if I kill you. You will die for good.”\n\nI looked curiously at my weapon, and then slowly pointed it at him, the emperor. His shady servants seemed to jump on the alert, but the leader laughed.\n\n“If you shoot anyone with that gun, you will simply cease to exist,” he mocked. “The person you shoot will become you, and your consciousness is destroyed.”\n\nI remained silent. He kept smiling, and continued.\n\n“I don’t know who you are, where or when you’re from, but know that you have the opportunity to serve greatness, to serve a vast empire. I promise you that your life here will be many orders of magnitude better than your previous life, as long as you serve me.\n\n“Now… what is your name? And how can you cure me?” asked the emperor.\n\n“My name is Dr. Mary Tivly,” I said with a stern face.\n\n“Oh, shit -,” the emperor began to say, but it was too late.\n\nI pointed the gun to my head and pulled the trigger.\n\n*\n\n“Are you alright?” the man above me asked. He looked worried. It’s okay Dad, it’s me.\n\n“Mark,” I said, shooting straight up, “where’s the girl?”\n\n“What? What are you talking about David?”\n\n“My name is not David. My name is Mary Tivly.”\n\nMy eyes began to swell and the tears were running down my face. Mark soon realized what was happening. Tears began to form in his eyes as well, and we hugged for what seemed like an entire childhood.\n\n“I know how to get her. Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Come on, let’s hurry. I know where the nearest rebel camp is, and they’ve been waiting for us.”\n\n“But what if they start to look for us? Can they use this weapon against us?”\n\nMy father smiled and looked at me with pride.\n\n“Don’t worry. Hopefully we’ll have a fighting chance, now that we have you.”\n\nEdit to change the word \"that\" to \"this\" in the third-to-last sentence. Also italicized the sentence from the prompt near the beginning.\n", "\"I'm sorry, but we'll explain everything at the reset,\" the Russian pulls out a handgun and points it at my face.\n\n\"Wait, what are you--\"\n\n\"Hopefully we'll have a fighting chance now that we have you...\" he mutters.\n\n\"I don't under--\"\n\nHe pulls the trigger.\n\nI catch the bullet.\n\nYeah, you heard me right.\n\nI catch a piece of fucking nine-millimeter lead fired by an MP-433 Grach at 1470 feet per second with my hand.\n\nWait, how did I know all that?\n\nI look down at my palm, and the bullet resting gently on it.\n\nIt's unscathed.\n\nBefore me, the Russian takes off his hat and places it to his chest.\n\n\"Welcome back, Ozzy.\"\n\n\"First off, what the fuck was that? And second off, my name's not Ozzy...\"\n\nThe memories flood back in. A gentle, swishing grass field, and the Roman legions about to march on it. Warriors, clad in leather and on horses, yell war cries as they ride through the Mongolian steppe. The crackle, the hiss of cannons and muskets as they whiz past my face.\n\nI am Ozymandias, king of kings.\n\n\"Look upon my works, ye mighty,\" I continue.\n\n\"And despair,\" finishes the Russian, \"I am at your service, sir.\"\n\n\"Magnificent,\" my voice is deeper now, like the purr of a big cat or the rumble of artillery in the distance, \"Grigori, we are going to take over the world.\"\n\n" ]	9
	[WP] It turns out Billy Mays' death was just a government conspiracy. Aliens had contacted earth wanting to set up a trade network, the government pulled in Billy Mays to handle our side of the deal.	[ "The plan seemed like it would go swimmingly. With their entire race brain-washed into docile workers, the Xvyrebian leaders only needed a customer base. The search lasted centuries, each planet more scrutinizing than the last. \n\n\"But we already know how to sharpen our knives, why would we need this... this...\" \n\n\"Samurai shark?\" \n\n\"Yes, samurai shark. What do those words even mean?\"\n\n\"Dunno, but the branding guild says that alliteration would be great for improving sales.\"\n\n\"Have you tried making something... better?\"\n\nHbindrexf sighed. There was that word again. The indoctrination process had left the Xvyrebian population completely devoid of creativity or workmanship, and it wasn't like they could give everyone free will again without planet-wide riots.\n\n\"Look, what if I threw in this Flies Away? If you've got any insects that need trapping and killing-\"\n\n\"My mother was an insect! I've had quite enough of this nonsense, now good day!\"\n\n\"But ma'am-\"\n\n\"I SAID GOOD DAY!\"\n\nWhat were the shareholders going to say? What were her HUSBANDS going to say? It was Hbindrexf's idea to enslave her species in the first place, and they'd have her last penis if she came back with another year of no sales. \"Ah, yah win some, yah lose some\" she told herself, ignoring the fact that the word 'some' usually caries the connotation of being more than zero. She looked to her list of leads for the next planet. \n\n\"Milky Way? Fuuuuuuuck...\" she groaned. Some inbred backwater that didn't even have the money to harness black holes, let alone buy an entire planet's worth of shoddy knick-knacks. The lead wasn't even in the rustic part of the galaxy, just some planet in the Oort cloud that still had multiple species living on it. They hadn't even had a nuclear war yet. \"Eee-yarth? Ehh-art?\" she struggled with their primitive, sound based communication. Apparently, they communicated by squeezing air out a tiny hole near their brain to communicate. Her egg sack shriveled just thinking about it.\n\nShe patched into their 'telephone' network, stupefied at the lack of visual interface but thankful. She'd ran out of lipstick and barely half of her mouths were made up. First cold call...\n\n\"Hello?\" the voice crackled through as the transmission stabilized.\n\n\"Hi! Do you have a moment, ma'am?\"\n\n\"HAH! Great one. Yeah, I've got a moment, name's Bill!\"\n\nPerplexed as to why this obviously female voice thought it was masculine, she continued. \"Thank you so much, sir. Now, can I paint a picture for you? You've been following a mammoth all day, and you finally got the bastard. You go in to cut your share of meat and what do you know, your BLADE is DULL! Isn't that just the worst?\"\n\nShe paused for a response, only to hear an awful cackling sound. Her lead was so out of date, the creature thought she was joking. Wonderful.\n\nAs the creature's guffawing died down, 'Bill' began asking questions about Hbindrexf. \"You been in the sales game long?\" it asked.\n\n\"You have no idea\" Hbindrexf muttered.\n\n\"You've been going from planet to planet, looking for customers, and NOBODY seems interested?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" How did it know? These 'humans' had barely landed on their own satellite, and this one was already prepared for intergalactic trade negotiations?\n\n\"You've got product, you've got a shipping department, but you're not meeting quotas!\"\n\n\"Yeah!\" She exclaimed. She was liking this species more and more. Who cared that they walked on two legs like some kind of animal, this was paydirt.\n\n\"Let's face it, sales are hard! You've got to find clients, you've got to build a relationship with them, it's a NIGHTMARE!\"\n\nHbindrexf was so happy she felt like she was 1000 again. This 'Bill' seemed to know exactly where she was coming from, and her methathorax was pounding with anticipation.\n\n\"Well, worry no more! I've got a species of rubes ready to buy ANYTHING you give me! You got stain remover? BAM! Now it’s OXY CLEAN! You got an audio adapter? JUPITER JACK! You got a whetstone, now it’s-“\n\n“SAMURAI SHARK!” Hbindrexf exclaimed. This was it. This was the answer. The voyage was over, and everything was perf-\n\n“But wait, there's more!”", "\"Hey Billy Mays here with a great offer for you reptilians out there. Ever get that impossible to reach scale rot? Tired of the smell? Well with the new Oxy-deformalizer we'll have you copulating in no time. But wait there's more, laser in now and we'll even throw in a complimentary claw sharpener, and all for three simple payments of nine-ninety-five (plus shipping and handling). That's right only nine-ninety-five!\" \n\nThe transmission dimmed and the president slammed his palm down on the table in appreciation, clapping alongside his entire cabinet. \"Damnit Mays you've done it again. What can we possibly do for you to make this up? I mean, you had to give up your family for gods sake. And don't say it was for the good of humanity, we both know that's bull.\" \n\n\"Respectively sir,\" Mays said through his magnificently trimmed beard, wearing the finest Voiman silks, \"I'm the best damn salesman in the universe. All I wanted was the chance to prove that.\" \n\n\"Well you've most certainly lived up to your part of the bargain. Settling that Voiman trade dispute with some tentacle cleansers was amazing work. Amazing work,\" the president repeated. But despite his political experience he couldn't make heads or tails of Mays' reaction. The man only asked for an undisclosed favor when they'd started this exchange, and being desperate he hadn't given it much thought. The strangest part, was that he felt like a junior senator in the presence of a foreign dignitary again. That same mantle of authority people in power exhibited rolled off of Mays in waves. And for a second a U.S. President thought he was somehow below a common merchant. This man, the president knew with a mix of awe and horror, could unite galaxies to his will. But things could always be made to mold to his desire. He was president after all, and this new worry over Mays gave him a new perspective on the matter. Only the people in this room knew the man existed, I mean, it wasn't like anyone would miss Mays when he was gone... \n\n\"I do what I can Mr. President,\" Billy replied carefully, face an unreadable mask, and the president could only smile broadly in way of a reply. " ]	2
Saw Huey Lewis and the News, got mad, wrote this prompt.	[WP] You are the "Go-to-guy". You're nice, smart, well-mannered, and you never lose your cool. Then one day, someone causes you to lose your shit; in the worst way possible	[ "I punched straight through the locker door.\n\nIt hurt. A lot. Like, ow. I probably broke my entire fucking hand doing that. The release of tension was enough to cause me to snap into laughter. It wasn't enough to dull the pain.\n\n\"Are you fucking serious?\" I screamed. The pain was unbearable - why in the ever loving fuck had I done that? - but I've never been more angry in my entire life.\n\n\"Please, honey...\" Alice called out. The words barely registered, barely even permeated the cloud of angry swears pouring out of me. I am laughing harder now. I'm pretty sure I'm going into shock. \"There's a chance that-\"\n\n\"No, there isn't a chance. There will never be another chance. Her entire future is over. There's nothing we can do.\" I cradled my hand and fought back angry tears. \"My daughter is cursed to the same life I have, the same life you've suffered through. And now you just want to give up? To let the universe win?\" I lost control, tears streaming down my face. They mixed with the blood streaming down my arm and stained my clothing, as if every part of me were crying, not just my unmatching eyes. \"You don't deserve your power.\" I bitterly muttered. \n\nThe soft glow of her tattoos was imprinted on my eyelids as I crumpled to the ground.\n\n((Everything I wrote turns into Borderlands fiction, doesn't it.))", "It has been a torturous two days since anyone has seen daylight. The party has become annoyed at one another and hunger has set in. Arklo has decided that the dwarf leading them is a charlatan and leading them to their deaths. 'What kind of dwarf does not making a living by crafting with hammers?' he thought to themselves as they made passage through a tight unlit crypt.\n\nArklo began picking the leather of his dagger's handle in annoyance. 'He's leading us to our death.' he thought. \"We should have reached the the treasure horde by now!\" Arklo exclaimed. 'What day is it?' he thought, trying to recount the time he spent underground.\n\nThe crypt hallway was stone and dirt on all sides with mostly earth beneath their boots. They made their way through giant rats and poisonous traps with not much time for rest. All involved knew that the lizard folk hoarded their gold beneath the swamp's recently reclaimed crypts. Generations of looted gold and heirlooms lay somewhere in these twisting caverns from the scaled invaders.\n\nHours have passed, or was it a day? An ominous straight hallway presented before them that appeared to never end. Arklo's elvish stomach began to growl. Each step was slow and methodical to avoid setting off traps or being victims of an ambush. He began to chew on his lower lip in frustration.\n\nA door stood guard at the end of their path. Locked and trapped. The dwarf went to work while the party rested with one eye open. No one was more annoyed then Arklo, the leader of the group. The calm, region-wide known adventure who sought out each member personally, began to twitch to his left eye if torch light permitted those to witness.\n\n\"What in Araham's name is taking so long?\" he bellowed.\n\"Just a few more minutes\" the dwarf whispered.\n\"I've had enough of your false promises. You and your kind are not to be trusted, especially a thieving dwarf.\"\n\"Curse you Arklo! Give me time to work.\"\nArklo drew his short to save his party. With heavy breathing and sweaty palms his sword was in front of him leading the charge.\n\"You lead us all to our doom.\" Arklo shoved the other members as he trampled his way forward.\"\n\n--CLICK.\n\nThe dwarf ducked and rolled into the room of treasure as Arklo ran past inside; stumbling and falling. He wildly began thrashing with his sword hand trying to find a target. He found himself surrounded by the cache of stolen treasure. \n\nPanting and mumbling with a sincere humbled tone Arklo said, \"I...I...am sorry, How could I have misjudged so wrong?\" \nA quick smirk crossed the dwarve's lips. \"Not all iron work is done with hammers. Some is done with picks.\"\n", "It was like any other day in the office, but of course it was winter and this winter had been so unforgiving. Another 6 inches of snow fell today which meant we had to go broom off every single car. I put on my coat, my gloves, earmuffs and grab a snow broom and go out to tackle the lot since I know the lazy guys won't help. About 2 hours later and all 400 cars were done. \n\nThe boss thanked me again for doing the work and said he had a problem with the printer in the bullpen again. I walked over to my desk and shook the snow off and took off my winter gear. Ugh, these printers are the cheapest pieces of garbage we have. I pull the toner cartridge as I have told him to do a 1000 times and, yep a paper jam. Remove paper...reset...and it comes back online passively aggressively printing pages.\n\n I go back to my desk to start working on the mountain of paperwork necessary to deliver two cars today. I go to call the first insurance company to get new ID cards and the local agent is closed because its saturday and who works those, oh yea I do....\n\nAlright, time to call the national number....ring ring...ring..hold music...10 minutes go by...finally an agent, I give her my details and particulars and hang up, receive the e-mail with new cards...jesus christ, the fucking VIN is wrong...call back...wait another 10 minutes yea hi I just called and the VIN has a typo can i get a new batch of cards please. \n\nE-mail arrives, cards are now missing the middle initial of the customers name...for the love of god....call back a third time and wait 10 minutes Hi I just received cards and while the VIN is right, the middle initial is gone now...can you send another batch please...\n\nFinally receive correct cards, and fill out the rest of the paperwork** intercom rings \" Sean please come to the sales office, Sean Sales office please\" \n\nI sluggishly get up out of my chair and re tuck my shirt, and slowly stroll to the sales office. \n\nOne of the girls who does the paperwork tells me that one car can't go, it a recall stop sale...I think to myself \"fuck..I need this car to roll today..well at least I have one I guess\" Ok well, let me call my client. \n\nIt is in that moment that I start to get frustrated, Its the last day of the month, all I need is two more cars and I get a bonus. How hard could that be? I've done it before. I just need a good deal and to deliver this other car and I'll be good. \n\nI walk into the sale office to turn in paperwork for my second delivery and as I am doing that I get distracted by my boss. \" Hey Sean, can you fix the printer again? its Jammed\" \" Joe I have told you like a thousand times how to fix it\" \"I know but you could do it just this one last time please, I'm swamped\" \" ok fine but next time its on you\" \n\nI go fix the printer again, the same way i do every time * stupid shitty printers, slam the toner cartridge back in the printer\"* \n\nThe printer isn't printing, not even in its normal passive aggressive style like it hates its printer dad but does the work anyways. oh look a new message...low toner, nuh uh printer I changed that last week, maybe If i take the cartridge out and back in again it will be fine. \n\nTake the cartridge out, and in. No change... Out and In..no change.. out and in slightly harder...no change...\n\nI walk away from the printer slightly miffed...I'm not even the tech guy, I just pull the fucking toner cartridge, it works every time... \n\nAlright, lets try this again, pull the cartridge and put it back in, no change...\n\nPower cycle the machine..nope..fuck you I'm not printing...give me more toner...\nAt this point the only logical explanation is that the toner cartridge is not seated correctly, So out it comes and BACK IN IT GOES WITH A NICE SOLID THUNK! \n\nThen....I hear it, a slight hiss...the cartridge violently erupts, sending projectile toner vomit all over me and making my blacker than the night sky in the country. \n\nI close my eyes...start to breathe heavily and let out a scream of pure rage and heard nothing but my scream for what seemed like minutes. \n\nI first smelled the dirt...and I was puzzled as to why I smelled dirt and I opened my eyes..all I could see was dust and dirt everywhere. I was in a large hole...as the dust started to clear I could see I was in the remains of my work building, but before me there was as best I could describe a cone of nothing....just flat, all the buildings all the cars the trees as far as I could see and ever widening it was just flat and that cone narrowed until it got to me. I was the point of origin. \n\nStill in shock from what I saw and wondering if it was real, I heard a voice behind me, It was my sales manager, in the broken half of a building behind me asking if I was ok. All I tried to say was \"uhh yea\" and I got out the uhh and a force of power blew him back 15 feet and he slid across the floor. \n\nI consider myself a mute now, I cannot speak or make a sound for every sound I make I wage destruction. People look at me like I am slow and I could speak, but it would kill them, I try to keep it secret and I have moved far far away from my home city so no one would find me. I no longer go by the name Sean Cassidy, I no longer have a name, for a name is useless to a man that doesn't speak. \n\n", "Aaron had paused as he picked up the glass in reaction to what Nick had just said. The large restaurant had suddenly become the last place Aaron had thought the guy should be after dropping a bomb like that. Hell, Aaron himself felt like he shouldn't be there in the first place. But, Nick had called him up, asked if he was busy. If his date wasn't going to show, maybe Nick's brother could help at least.\n\n\"Jesus Hell, you just can't catch a break, can you?\" Aaron asked, watching Nick. \"You're getting fired over that?\"\n\nNick shrugged, setting his glass down. \"Not a big deal,\" he replied, hardly even looking up. As he matched Aaron's gaze, his soft blue eyes meeting Aaron's piercing greens, he simply stated, \"Jobs come and go.\"\n\nAaron shook his head. \"Not like this, Nick. You're twenty-four. I know you want to make a name for yourself, but 'Most Fired Man in New England' is not the way to go about it.\"\n\nNick chuckled. \"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me.\"\n\n\"Don't worry? You do understand how the job market works, right?\" Aaron watched in disbelief as Nick simply shrugged off his statement.\n\n\"Hey!\" The phrase came from Aaron's right, a man with a deep booming voice. His shoulders were nearly twice the width of his hips, and he looked to be more muscle than brains, wearing the gray-and-red jacket of a college football team nearby.\n\n\"Oh, great,\" Aaron said only loud enough for Nick to hear. \"Adam.\"\n\nAdam Jenson had bullied Aaron all throughout high school. Despite never getting the meaning of detentions or suspensions or threats of expulsion, he had apparently made it into college.\n\nAaron was sinking back into his seat, almost chugging the drink. Nick, on the other hand watched the man with an uncharacteristic edge. \n\n\"How've you been?\" Adam asked, stopping next to their booth.\n\n\"Please leave me alone,\" Aaron almost whimpered.\n\nAnd Adam laughed.\n\nNick stood slowly. \n\n\"Ahh!\" Adam spread his arms out in recognition. \"Little Nicky! Coming to big brother's aid?\" In one fluid motion, Adam pushed Nick back into the seat by his head.\n\nAaron watched, confusion set into his face, as his little brother stood again. Adam looked almost excited at the opportunity to be the high school bully again. He pushed on Nick's head again.\n\nNick moved quick, quicker than Aaron had ever seen. He clapped his hand over Adam's, and struck the side of the elbow with his right fist, Adam's throat with his open palm, and Adam's left shoulder, causing him to turn. Nick kicked the side of his knee, brought him down to it, and wrapped his arm around Adam's neck.\n\nBy the time anyone else noticed what was going on, Nick had won the fight.\n\n\"Don't you dare treat my brother like that again. Understood?\"\n\nAdam squeaked, confused and scared.\n\n\"I remember how Aaron talked about you. When he'd come home with the bruises. The black eyes. The tears.\"\n\nAdam was shaking as he turned his head slowly to look at Nick. Sweat dripped down the side of his head.\n\n\"Get out.\"\n\nAnd Adam did.", "\"Sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly.\"\n\nI could feel the smile slowly crawl off of my face, a neutral mask replaces my features. The usual drawl I let creep into my speech was being clipped shorter and shorter with each word. By now the rest of the office had found excuses to be elsewhere during this confrontation. Save for Alvy. Alvy had just come back from the bathroom, but it looked like he wanted to shit his pants anyway. He hadn't seen anything but a smile grace my face before today, even angry it was hard to stop smiling even a little. Except in front of this guy. \n\nChester. \n\nThe management office the oldest stakeholder hired to get the plant out of debt sent Chester. Chester's job was to make the place profitable again. He was a very busy man, this Chester. If he wasn't pissing on someone's work without any real critique, he was pissing someone off with open allusions to layoffs. Something that was relatively against the rules amongst the old guard who were stakeholders. He looked at me with that smug grin you can only cultivate in multiple generations of terrible human behavior.\n\n\"I said, I'd like you to shine my car the way you shine those pretty banisters, handyman.\"\n\n\"I heard that part. Don't think I rightly heard what came after.\"\n\nThe sneer got wider. He looked like a comic book mob boss with that grin. It took a little of the edge off of how I felt, but it still burned hot.\n\n\"Oh that, sorry Ernie. I said if you didn't do it to my satisfaction I'd fire your Okie ass.\"\n\nI took a deep breath. Let it out slow. Alvy was the only one to notice the situation and took an unconscious step back, Chester had all his attention on me.\n\n\"Kinda uncalled for, isn't it, Chester?\"\n\n\"The NAME is MISTER Truemarch, Ernie Festus. You'll talk to me with deference.\"\n\n\"Well forgive me, Mister Truemarch. We never had cause to be so formal 'round here-.\"\n\nHis sneer vanished like the wind. \"And that's the problem, isn't it? This entire operation is one big social club. If anyone screws up, we'll forgive them, they're having a bad day! Never mind that you're suddenly half a day behind schedule. Oh look, Jenny's child is sick, let's all take a little time to comfort her and send one of the office girls back to take care of the brat. Now Accounts Receivable isn't getting its reports fast enough.\"\n\nAlvy shrank back at that. Didn't blame him at all, Receivable was his job after all.\n\n\"And then there's you. Everyone's friend the handyman who keeps this chuck-wagon schlepping along because no one in upper management could bring themselves to fire anyone once you've intervened. Mister gofer who's always around. Mister buddy-buddy who won't simply cut the dead weight.\"\n\nAh, here we go. He's getting to the meat now.\n\n\"That's why I'm here, you know? To cut the dead weight. To amputate the rotten limbs that drag this company down. Oh but I can't do something as simple as a layoff, your charter has half of my targets as stakeholders. They have to leave on their own. But you, you're different. You're not on the charter, I checked. I can fire your ass as easily as snapping my fingers and hire someone fresh off the truck from Nogales to do your job.\"\n\nI couldn't abide this anymore.\n\n\"Lemme ask you something, Mister Truemarch.\" I could hear the ice settle into my voice. Trying to keep your cool in front of this guy was like trying to climb a mountain with three fingers and no feet. \"Why do you think there was a charter in the first place? This place was hell before the current ownership. People were worked into the dirt. Accidents were at an all-time high. Before the workers bought out the shares, it was already paid for in the blood of those who died. Died, Mister Truemarch. Died because of heartlessness and the attitude that there'd always be another to replace the next guy.\"\n\n\"Sounds like my kind of people. Because that's the cold, hard truth. There will always be a next guy. That's the way it is now in the real world! Where people make MONEY! This charter is a relic.\"\n\n\"The charter is the heart and soul of this company.\"\n\n\"Then I'll tear its heart out. You're fired.\"\n\nThat did it. The compact was abolished. \n\n\"Alvy. You'd best be elsewhere.\"\n\n\"S-sorry Ernie. I... don't think I can move.\"\n\nChester hadn't quite realized what was going on just yet. He hadn't noticed midway through my drawl was no longer on the right syllables or the new way I was emphasizing my 's's or the slightly rolling 'r's. Alvy noticed. Poor Alvy, probably scared to death right now, I remember how his grandad asked me to help him fix his bike and how his grandad's grandad asked the same thing. \n\n\"You might wanna cover your eyes, Alvy.\"\n\nChester looked at me funny. \"What, you think you can hit me? You gotta be a thousand years ol-AhAAHHHH!!!!\"\n\nThe trash can near his desk had wrapped itself around his leg and anchored him to the floor, new spikes jutting into his flesh from the metal. This trash can was manufactured with the steel processed here. So were the rivets lining the mahogany desk which had now absorbed Chester's hand.\n\n\"Yeah, funny how that seems. You talk about tearing out the company's heart and soul, Chester. Nevermind the fact that this very heart and soul was paid for with blood from dozens, if not hundreds of sacrifices. People who suffered and died on this very spot.\"\n\nThe chandelier in the office was reaching out now. Alvy covered his eyes and sank to his knees. He tried to bury his head between his knees to keep Chester's cries out.\n\n\"I'll tell you something else, Chester. You know this, already, but the charter is a contract. Iron-clad. Even I have to dance to the boss's tune. But you fired me, Chester. You. FIRED. ME. AND NOW... I FEEL LIKE THE HEART AND SOUL OF THIS COMPANY NEEDS TO BE NOURISHED.\"\n\nA short time later, I tapped Alvy on the shoulder. He was humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic as loud as he could. I was smiling again, how could I not?\n\n\"Alvy, you alright?\"\n\nHe looked up, the place was spotless. The desk where it should be, the trash can perfectly still and not full of teeth. No stains, 'cept maybe the mahogany on the desk was a little darker grain than it started. No help for that, though.\n\n\"Where'd Chester go?\"\n\n\"Chester who? Oh, the guy from the company? He left, urgent business. Looks like he's been called away by his office or something. According to the charter, in the absence of a Plant Manager, leadership decisions go to the next highest stakeholder. That's you, Alvy. Six generation stakeholder and the current Plant Manager till Ron gets back from his vacation in Miami or until those assholes he hired send another guy.\"\n\n\"Oh... I hope not. Uh, you're rehired?\"\n\n\"Hah, good on ya, Alvy. Smart cookie. Go down and tell the folks things are alright. I hear it's Rebecca's birthday today, you think she'd like cheesecake?\"\n" ]	5
	[WP] Walt Disney has some ulterior motives for making Disney Land...	[ "The needed a home, they weren't happy with just the cartoons. I thought it would be enough to be idolised by millions at every picture house on the globe, to have their faces on watches, lunch boxes and t-shirts. But they wanted more a home, a temple, where thousands would come to worship them. To laugh, scream and cry, to elevate these ancient deities back to the heavens, casting down the modern gods into obscurity.\n\nMaybe then they would leave me alone, let me rest, let me sleep, let me die. Without the grinning faces haunting me day and night, their laughter mocking my every thought.", "Welcome. Please all of you take your seats, the orientation is about to begin.\n\n\nLet me be the first to welcome you to probably the most famous research laboratory ever created. First opened in the summer of 1955 during the height of the cold war, our little institute has given the world a cornucopia or groundbreaking work. While most of the world knows this place as the “happiest place on earth” we have come to call it The Lab. \n\nIf you would all open your welcome packets to the first page, I would like to start with a brief history of The Lab. Back in 55’ our boys had a problem on their hands; communism was spreading like a wild fire. Our top military strategist could not come up with a plan that didn’t end with Washington as a smoldering crater. However a solution was found in psychology, specifically psychological warfare. So a plan was drawn up to create the world’s largest psychological experiments. Disguised as an amusement park our scientists were able to have complete and total control over every aspect of our “guests” environment. The fruits of their research helped collapse one of the largest super powers in the world in less than 40 years without firing a shot. \n\n After our successes in the field of psychology, the choice was made to expand into other schools of science. Since then our little institute has grown with other facilities outside of “The Lab”. We have operational laboratories in Florida, Paris, Tokyo, and Hong Kong. \n\nYou and your colleges are about to follow in the footsteps of some of the greatest minds of our time. So before the next speaker takes the stage, let me be the first to wish you luck in your measles study. \n\n“Have a Disney day!” \n\n" ]	2
	[WP] An old and dying king fears for his kingdom: his oldest son, the crown prince, is cruel and corrupt, but disinheriting him for the kind and honorable younger brother would result in civil war.	[ "Heavy is the head that wears the crown and weary are the shoulders. The knees and spine too, are bent, for few things, if any, weigh as heavy upon the body and the soul as one's responsibility; their right to choose. Especially, the old king muses, when there exist only wrongs.\n\nA cruel and callous kingdom, corrupt at its very core, or one wracked with war and plagued with bloodshed; which? For those were the options, and the son that would rule, the choice. Upon his cold and hard throne, the king sat, and wondered. Turning the thought and asking the question. Repeating it, over and over and over again.\n\nWhich, of these two, is the lesser evil?\n\nSeconds, minutes, hours, and days; these things all pass. Then weeks, and in turn, months. Time weaves in and out and about the king, always close, and yet, always out of reach. It haunts and it taunts him, always visible from just out the corner of his one good eye, and always, always passing.\n\nYears come. Years go. The king is no longer old; instead, dying. His advisers, and worse yet, his people, think him senile. But this is incorrect. He is not malaised by a lack of thought, but rather, an excess of it. Turning and turning about his head. The question repeated, over and over and over again. Always the same.\n\nWhich, of these two, is the lesser evil?\n\nAnd then, but a few days later, the king's choice is mercifully taken away. For his honest and honorable and kindhearted son drops in for a visit, and a dagger, small and shiny and hidden is pulled, and in turn plunged deep into the old man's chest. He refrains from screaming or shouting, and instead, lets out a sigh of relief. Realizing now what he should have known all along; that there is really no such thing as a truly good son or king.", "King Damien looked down onto the courtyard, watching two guards standing there in the howling wind and rain. Their torches had all been blown out, yet they still stood firm. How he wished his kingdom would stand as firm as these two hardy souls. He shuffled back from the ledge, his walking stick propping him on the perilous walk from window to bed. Prince Leon sat and watched his father struggle. Even in his final hours, he had to keep the air of a king. The prince passed his father his goblet, as the weary man settled in for his last night. \n\n'What do you think happens on the other side, Leon? And be honest with your old man, none of that court parlance.' the king asked, turning towards his son.\n\n'Well, I like to think the Lord will provide for our duty to him. We have followed his orders and done his good work, I'm assured he will provide for us.' \n\n'How I wish I could share your optimism. His orders have left a lot of good men dead, my boy. Let's just hope our work was greater than theirs.' The king took a gulp of his wine. He spluttered on the second gulp, fluid spilling down his chin. Leon tried to help his father but he shooed him away. \n\n'I'm sure the Lord won't mind a little wine on my gown.' \n\nLeon chuckled. His father did always try to make the best of things, even in the face of horror. He sensed that he didn't fear death, but the legacy he would leave behind. Brother Adam was not exactly the most merciful of rulers.\n\n'What would you have me do Father? Adam's succession spells doom for our kingdom. He would water the fields with blood if he could.' Leon said, playing with his rings. \n\n'The council does not share our suspicions. They and the public see Adam as the iron fist we need. I seem to have not been as tyrannical as they would have wished. Apparently, ruling with compassion and not torching every village who misses a tax payment is bad leadership. Who knew?'\n\n'Don't say that Father, you were a good ruler.' Leon replied, trying to keep his father buoyed up.\n\n'Of course you would say that Leon, you have a heart. Something I forgot to give to your older brother.' Damien replied, coughing up more red onto his gown. \n\n'Should I protest the appointment? Try a trial by combat for the seat of the kingdom.' Leon said, trying to summon up some courage. While he may be the favoured son, he was certainly not the warrior prince like his stone-faced sibling. He prefer the heat of the bedchamber, rather than the heat of battle.\n\n'Don't be ridiculous. You're about as good with a sword as your dear mother. While the masses may enjoy some theatrical bloodletting, I would prefer that you don't end up as the first head on the city wall.'\n\nThe wind picked up outside, a crack of thunder split the heavens. King Damien wheezed at the fierce display, as the storm seemed to tear air from his body. At least Nature is giving him a decent send off, he thought.\n\n'A rebellion would be utter chaos and I can't think of any proper reason for his removal from the throne. Oh, what am I to do?' Prince Leon's head sunk into his hands. He wished he could just drop his mantle and be swept up by the raging winds. It would certainly be calmer than this.\n\n'Flee. If you cannot win, then flee.' His father replied, patting his son on the head. 'You were always good at running as a boy.'\n\n'But, surely I will look even more of a coward than I do now. I could not live knowing I am willfully abandoning our people.'\n\n'If I know my eldest, which I think I do, waiting for the masses to rise of their own accord seems the best option. Take your loyalest men, ride out to our friends to the South and wait for the rivers of blood. I'm certain the public will gladly be calling your name when they see the cruelty of your dear sibling.'\n\n'You're making it seem like a civil war is inevitable!' Leon responded, tears streaming down his face. \n\n'You always were the dramatic one but what I say is true. At least this way, they are stringing up effigies of your brother and not of you.' \n\nThe king coughed more, red splattering his bedclothes. He could feel the blackness climbing his bedpost, as his chest began to tighten and burn.\n\n'Father? What's wrong?' Leon surged up, as his father began to wince in pain.\n\n'It seems I am leaving you a bit too soon, my boy. Death must be running late today.' Leon called for the doctor but it was too late. His father had slipped into the dark, as the wind began to drop outside. It was now his job to make sure the kingdom did not go the same way. " ]	2
	[WP] Instead of the heroes we know, Nick Fury decides to enlist Disney Princesses to be The Avengers	[ "The icy wind blew against Nick's jacket, his cigarette burned out again. \"Goddamnit\" he murmured to himself as he tried (to no avail) to light another one. Why do they always have to be so difficult to find? He slowly trudged through the snow, his black boots now soaked in ice. Behind him Elsa followed, she was the only one out of the others who could help Nick navigate through this blizzard. Apparently, she wasn't able to \"stop\" this blizzard because it was \"outside her magical dimension\". Nick Fury hated excuses. \"Are we getting any closer?\" he yelled, the winds buffeting around him. No reply. \"Elsa? Are you there?\" He stopped and looked around, the white of the snow blinding his eyes. \"YES I AM! We'll be there soon, don't worry about me, the cold never bothered me anywa-\" \"Goddamnit Elsa\". Nick continued forward, he wondered how on Earth he ended up in this situation. Ever since Mr. Stark created the infinit-\n\nAn arrow whizzed past his ears.\n\n\"Elsa! We've got company!\" Nick reached for his trusty side arm and would've gotten to it if not for the second arrow that pierced his shoulder. \"SHIT\" he howled as he clutched the arrow, maybe this wasn't a good idea, maybe he should go back to HQ and discuss this with th-. A tall figure leaped onto his back and pinned him down, the snow biting against his cheek. The figure holding his back was saying something but Nick could not understand. WHERE WAS ELSA. Fury was furious, but he could not move, and only when he heard the second voice did he realize he was about to be let go. Nick wiped his eyes with his glove and stared at both figures, one of which still holding his bow, no her bow. Standing before Nick was Mulan.", "“Excuse me,” said Merida, the arrows in her quiver rustling as she got to her feet. “What did you say?”\n\n“You heard me, little girl,” replied Mulan, absent-mindedly tapping the pommel of her sword as she took a deep gulp of rice wine. “I said, you silver-spoon royalty types are all the same - never worked a day in your lives, born into the laps of luxury - do you think you can actually bring anything to this team?”\n\nSnow White frowned, her impossibly fair skin almost glowing. “Excuse me, Mulan, but don’t you think you’re generalising there? Don’t you know how hard I worked in Queen Grimhilde’s scully?”\n\n“Yes, yes, we’ve all heard that one,” said Cinderella, faking a yawn as songbirds whistled and sang around her. “Then you shack up with those seven...vertically-challenged people. Ugh. How you managed to get a prince to come and save you after all that...mingling together I don’t even know.”\n\n“Oi, missy,” growled the nearest dwarf, clad in steam-powered battle armour and armed with a huge mining pick. “Sod. Off.”\n\n“Now, now, Grumpy,” said Snow White, patting the dwarf’s metal pauldrons. “Leave the mean lady alone. She’s just bitter that she needs her Fairy Godmother to do anything.”\n\n“That is not true. The animals would have helped me anyway! Right?”\n\nThe two mice on her shoulder chittered. Bruno the dog raised his head from the floor and woofed. \n\n“Puh-leeze, the animals speak to me too. Isn’t that right, nightingale dear?” said Snow White.\n\nThe songbirds twittered, darting between the two feuding princesses. \n\n“Don’t get distracted,” declared Mulan. She stood up, slamming the jug of wine down on the table so hard it shattered. “The point is, you girls who were born into royalty have nothing on the rest of us, who worked our way up from nothing.”\n\n“That eez right,” drawled Belle in her thick French accent, nose-deep in a book as usual. “We have gotten to where we are by ourselves.”\n\n“By yourselves?” asked Jasmine sarcastically. “So that squinty-eyed Shang and your hairy paramour are nobody, then? At least Merida didn’t have to run to some guy asking for help.” She fist-bumped Merida. \n\n“Hey, lady,” began Mulan, but Belle finally looked up from her book and scowled. \n“Do you think we need their help? I do not see ze Captain Shang or ze Beast anywhere, do you? Or any of their weapons? But you, you have your little urchin’s friend silly carpet wherever you go. What kind of stupid euphemism is ‘Magic Carpet Ride’, anyway?”\n\nThe carpet raised one of its knotted fists and waved it angrily. \n\n“That’s because Aladdin does whatever I tell him to do,” hissed Jasmine. “And I told him to give me the carpet, so he’s mine now! You leave Beast at home because he isn’t exactly any help anymore after he turned back into that whiny little dunce, is he?”\n\n“Girls, girls, let’s stop it with the personal attacks,” said Tiana, standing up too. “It’s pretty obvious after all that Mulan and Belle are right, and you girls just need to take it easy and-”\n\n“I’ll show you taking it easy, frog-girl,” said Rapunzel, her long, golden locks moving by themselves in a manner that would have been terrifying if she wasn’t so pretty. “You just get married and boom you’re a princess, but some of us actually have been through a lot, alright? Do you think it’s easy being stuck up in a tower with only an old lady who comes to visit you all the time?”\n\nThe tension in the room was palpable. The group of stunning young women were arrayed on opposite ends of the table - Mulan, Belle, Cinderella and Tiana on one side, while Merida, Snow White (and her seven armoured dwarves), Jasmine and Rapunzel on the other. \n\nPocahontas sighed and joined the non-royalty side. “Look, Mulan has a point. Listen to yourself, Rapunzel; you think that being stuck in a tower is all that bad, but others have had it worse.”\n\n“Traitor!” screamed Merida, notching an arrow to her bow faster than anyone in the room could follow. “You’re a chieftain’s daughter! You’re a born royal as much as any of us!”\n\n“Back down, little girl,” said Pocahontas in a dangerous tone as wind began to rustle her long, dark hair - an impossible wind, given that they were all in a steel room in a Helicarrier floating somewhere above an ocean (where Ariel swam, being unable to stay on dry land and all since the divorce). “Why don’t you go running back to your mother, now?”\n\nSnow White laughed. “Are you trying to start something? We can assure you that you won’t finish it - and I don’t mean the royal ‘we’,” she added, as the seven dwarves slid their visors down with an audible clank and steam hissed from their power armour. \n\n“Seven? I killed seven thousand,” said Mulan darkly, unsheathing the sword of the long-dead Hun general with an ominous rasp. “Do you really think you stand a chance?”\n\n“You and your convenient avalanche,” retorted Rapunzel, pulling out a frying pan from the golden folds of her hair. “Too bad for you the Director hasn’t picked up those other two princesses yet, right?”\n\n“Bring it, sister,” said Tiana, the shadows around her suddenly whispering with ancient, sinister voodoo magic. \n\n“Ooh, that’s scary,” mocked Jasmine, balancing expertly on top of the hovering magic carpet. \n\n“It eez,” said Belle, unruffled, paging through a thick book. “If you knew what it eez. But that is asking too much, no?”\n\nNo-one knew who fired/threw/cast the first strike, but soon an all-out brawl broke out in the room and actually managed to wake Aurora up. She stared, horrified, as Princess clashed with princess, and ghostly, magical screams vied with the clash of blade and mining pick. Even the songbirds fought each other, darting back and forth with dizzying speed and littering the floor with colourful plumage.\n\n“Oh no - girls, please stop! We shouldn’t be fighting among ourselves! What are you all -”\n\nA dwarf, tossed across the room, smashed into her and almost flattened her with his armoured bulk. \n\n“Eep,” said Bashful.\n\nDark clouds swirled around Aurora’s body and the dwarf found himself soaring across the room for a second time as the enraged princess transformed into a dragon. \n\nThe fighting paused.\n\n~§~\n\nDirector Nick Fury stormed down the Helicarrier, flanked by a squad of heavily armed S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. “What is going on here? Why do I hear explosions in my god-damned Helicarrier?”\n\nHe rounded a corner and was nearly flattened by the horde of fleeing princesses (and seven armoured dwarves). \n\nThen he saw the dragon tearing its way out of the briefing room.\n\n“Really? REALLY? I have had it with these motherfucking princesses on this motherfucking plane!”\n", "He wore a top hat and held a cane as he took to the stage. I'd warned him that no one dressed that way anymore, but Happy thought it would make him look even more interesting. Distinct was the word he chose. I can't argue with that logic.\n\nBashful, the shapeshifting mute, whose true form is at once much more sinister and much more inviting, interrupted the woman who was singing, first putting his arm on her shoulder and then giving her a glare, teeth clenched and eyes locked on hers. She backed away so that he could quickly grab the microphone and pull it off of its stand.\n\n\"Ladies and gentleman,\" a happy voice called from the speakers lining the walls. Bashful kept one hand held up as he spoke, like a teacher silencing a classroom. \"Could I have your attention, please? Do focus the spotlights on me, would you, boys?\" He pointed to the back of the theater, where we were handling the lights and sound. \"I've got quite the message for these lovely, lovely lovebirds in front of me.\"\n\nI elbowed Happy. \"Boys?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, did I say boys? There's a lovely girl back there, too, and working very hard, might I add.\" Bashful pointed me out, and I shrunk, leaning back against the wall. \"Can we get a round of applause for our beautiful friend Anna? She's a princess, you know.\" \n\nAs the people clapped and looked back at me, standing behind the soundboard, I shrank into myself, hunching my shoulders and looking around awkwardly. \"Happy!\" I said through my clenched teeth to the man beside me.\n\nHe simply laughed and turned away from me. He spoke into his wrist like a secret agent, dictating everything that came out of the speakers through a built in microphone. We all knew Bashful couldn't talk. Or at least he wouldn't talk. Not even to save people's lives. I couldn't do the voice for obvious reasons, and Doc...\n\nDoc doesn't speak too well. Or, as he put it, \"I don't weak too spell.\" Besides, he had to handle the soundboard, which he stared at through his coke-bottle glasses with chin-rubbing intensity. He didn't care that most of the buttons didn't do anything. Once he'd gotten control of it, he wanted to learn what the buttons could do.\n\nSo what was I doing there, you might wonder? Staying out of trouble, according to Elsa's advice. No one ever says it, but... I'm the only normal person in the group. Not that I'm bitter, or anything. \n\nAs the applause ended, Happy continued basking in his glory, and Bashful gesticulated and gestured with his hands and head like a marionette controlled by Steve Ballmer.\n\n\"Thank you, thank you, but she's not so special. All of her friends are princesses! Ahyuck!\" No one laughed. \"But seriously folks,\" he said as Bashful wiped a fake tear from his eye, \"we've gotta get out of here.\" Bashful lowered the mic and looked around. \"No, seriously, get out. There's an alien army outside that wants to destroy the human race. Get your stuff, get your friends, get your cat, get everyone else, and get out! Now!\"\n\nYou know, surprisingly, no one got up running and screaming? I held my fist to my mouth, stifling a laugh. Happy noticed and turned to give me a big, disgusting grin.\n\n\"Fine,\" Happy said, reaching over to tap Doc on his shoulder. \"Hit em with the good stuff.\" He'd covered his watch with his other hand to hide the sound. Just then, the loud roar of an explosion echoed through the room, shaking the floor. Bashful stumbled as he rushed toward the stairs to get off the stage \"Run!\" Happy shouted into the mic, even though Bashful had dropped it by now.\n\nNow they listened. Everyone got to their feet and started rushing out, talking loudly, a few laughing, but most too startled to take it as a joke.\n\nI gave Happy a punch in the arm. \"What the heck did you guys do?\"\n\n\"Nothing!\" Doc said, turning to face us.\n\n\"Then what was that?\" \n\nHappy and Doc looked at each other, and then back to me. \"We don't show.\" Doc shook his head and tried again, \"We don't know.\"\n\n([Part 2](http://np.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/30ww9n/wp_instead_of_the_heroes_we_know_nick_fury/cpws7ig))", "Thanos had defeated the Avengers. Nick Fury was thought to be dead, but sure enough it was just another cybernetic body double Tony Stark had rigged up. \n\nNow alone, hiding, as one of the last survivors of the MCU. Fury was forced to seek a new team. \n\nWhile searching the old SHIELD database an email popped up. Fury was perplexed. This terminal wasn't connected to any outside network. Curiously Nick Fury clicked to open the email. \n\n\"There are others out there\", it read. \n\n\"This universe has been lost, but there are others. You must find the secret infinity gem... The Disney Infinity gem.\"\n\nFury scratched his head, \"How could Thanos not know of this?\"\n\nAnother email popped up. \"It is in my universe. Here I am king. I have manipulated a group of my greatest royal legion to thwart the evil that sought my kingdom. I now extend their services to you as I fear Thanos' reach shall extend to my kingdom next... If not Star Wars.\"\n\n\"Use the knowledge of the Tesseract to open a portal. I cannot force my legion to fight for you. You must convince them to assemble. What I can tell you, is that their skills are varied and unmatched. One is an aquatic master - ruler of the seas. Another can summon seven powerful minions. The third has tamed a most fearsome beast who consumes his prey as they are lost in a haze of her beauty. The fourth has the ability to change matter for brief periods of time at the utterance of 'I wish'. Finally, the most powerful. A telepath who sleeps. While deep in slumber this maiden can possess any bodily figure.\"\n\nNick pulled out a cigar as he reached the last line. Biting the end off, spitting the flakey nub on the floor, his thumb snaps the flint of a zippo and cooks the end of the cigar. He reads, \"It is our last hope. You must bring these heroes to your universe and prevent Thanos from escaping. Sincerely, a giant (but small) fan... M.M.\"\n\nFury was lost. He didn't know what to believe, but at this point he didn't have any other options. He clicked on the folder containing the Tesseract research documents and started looking for a way out. " ]	4
	[WP] Humanity has found the cure to cancer...and it originates from the most unlikeliest source.	[ "Here I sit dumbfounded by the results I had just read. Did I, a mediocre med student just find the cure for cancer? I stood up and paced back and forth throughout the empty laboratory in the midst of a cold, Midwest winter thinking to myself how simple the answer really was.\n\nAll of these procedures used by hospitals across the world were all wrong! Their approach to the problem was much more complicated than it ever needed to be I thought to myself.\n\nI sat back down on the stainless steel stools, covering my face with my hands as I was deep in thought. I can credit my laziness to my findings, as I took the easiest way I could possibly think of to get through this assignment. The key to curing cancer, was rather simple really. Since it derived from a mutated cell that spreads, why not mutate the cancer cells again? And that is exactly what I had done.\n\nEager to share my findings I called up my professor and had him come down to the lab as quickly as he possibly could. When the door flew open, the first thing I could hear was, \"This better be fucking worth it Josh..\" my professor exclaimed. \"Just get over here and look for yourself!\" I retorted as I held up the lab results shoving them into his face. \"Well I'll be damned, you actually fucking did it!\" said my professor, \"And I was bout damn near failing you from my course... again.\"\n\n(This is my first ever response to a prompt... I'm not a very good writer, but I am truly trying to learn to get better. Constructive criticism is much appreciated!)", "Ebola: The Cure for Cancer?\n\nThe collaborative efforts researchers at the University of Virginia and the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center have found the unlikeliest potential cure for cancer - EBOV, the Ebola virus. An outbreak of EBOV starting in 2014 caused over ten thousand deaths in Africa. However, the epidemiological research team at the University of Virginia discovered a stunning statistic as they monitored the outbreak.\n\n\"We started to see a trend of people - children - with leukemia, who were effectively cancer-free after having survived Ebola infection,\" said Dr. Erica Smith-Carr, Director of the Division of Infectious Diseases at UVA. \"We dug deeper into the data, and the trends verified across different cancer types.\"\n\nWorking with a team led by Dr. Matthew McClellan, the two sites collaborated on developing a platform by which animals in varying stages of cancer development were infected with EBOV. Though survival rates for the infection were low, the survivors were found to be in remission for cancer.\n\n\"It's a stunning discovery,\" said Dr. Chen, the lead researcher for the DDID, \"That when the Ebola virus infects an animal, the cancer cells are the first to go.\" Based on preliminary experiments, the researchers believe that EBOV's beneficial effects may be due to the presence of a small, apoptosis-inducing peptide coded for by the virus. The peptide appears to adversely affect cancer cells at a much greater magnitude than normal cells.\n\n\"We hope to find out whether the effects can be found in non-pathogenic variants of EBOV, such as the Reston strain,\" said Dr. McClellan. Going forward, the researchers also hope to fully sequence and synthesize the peptide for future research, as well as determine its mechanism of action.\n\n\"It's an exciting finding,\" said Dr. Smith-Carr, \"But in our excitement, we must not forget the terrible human suffering caused by EBOV itself. We will continue work in both directions, developing treatments for both Ebola and cancer.\"", "Cancer just had its ass scientifically kicked. Big news, some rich fatcat stumbled onto the cure. Just in time, I was diagnosed last week.\n\nI place the NoSik-brand cigarette to my lips and take a drag. Wow. Take out the most cancerous chemicals and it does the opposite. Pharmaceutical companies thriving on useless placebos are already filing bankruptcy.\n\nThese things still taste like shit, though..." ]	3
	[WP] You know you have 3 days to live. You film yourself reading a written monologue to be played at your funeral in front of your friends and family, confessing your deepest, darkest secret that you hid for your whole life; this is that monologue.	[ "Not a single person in the crowd of Nora Janice's Funeral had spoken a word. Friends, Relatives, and a few other people all bonded together in the stillness of the moment. Even Nora's own parents were seen, with no idea how she could have been a part of such a horrible death. Soon, an image appeared in the front of the room. The image of Norah soon became a video, and papers were heard rustling around. Tears could be seen creeping down the young eyes of the girl, and those tears began to spread throughout the room as she spoke.\n\n>Hello. If you are hearing this, t-then they must have gotten to me. I don't know why, but I know that soon I will be ...dead. I pray you never have to hear this, but I guess if you are hearing this, it's too late. \n\nThe camera showed a barren room with notes on a desk in the front, a plain chair, and dim lighting highlighting the webcam glow on Nora's youthful face. It must have been recorded very recently before her death, but she still looked too young for someone like her to be gone so soon. \n\n>Ok, I need to start at the beginning I guess. Most of you must have known me as a perfect little girl with a great heart and all that. That's not the full me. Ok, ok, calm down, I've never told anyone this, calm down.\n\nBy this time, everyone in the crowd had undergone a change from a teary-eyed and mournful mood to some feeling much more intrigued. Nora wasn't a crazy conspiracy theorist, or ever been mentally unstable. Well, maybe she did seem a bit strange at times, but the way she was speaking now made her seem absolutely insane.\n\n>When I was kid, I had terrible nightmares. Every time I had one of these nightmares, it was the same kind of thing. I saw people dying. But - Here's the thing, it actually happened. Like, I was dream of some man I'd never seen before getting beaten to death with a club, and a few days later I would see him on the news as a murder victim. Now it happens - or, well - happened, about every month or two. A few stand out in my brain. A week before 9/11 was horrible. I tried to help out a stranger I saw on the streets, but to no avail. He wouldn't listen, I tried to warn him! \n\nNow, the audience was fidgeting. Nora's parents were the most shocked, and all the others in the room were mimicking their expressions. Sure, maybe a few things about the way she acted made sense now, but she was just another girl. At least that's what everyone in the room had thought for the last 20 or so years she'd been alive. \n\n>For the past week, I have been having a different kind of vision in my sleep. I see myself. I'm in some room of my house, and someone walks in. I'm laying on my desk, and I can't see his face. Papers are laying around everywhere, and he just walks over to me with, s-some kind of gun or something, and then...and then I wake up. I know it's going to happen soon, and, i just don't know when. Probably in a couple of days, but it could be soon. I just- I don't know what to do.\n\nOn screen, she began to lay her head down in pure fear. She threw some of her notes down on the floor, and they gently rested down on the floor. The video feed stood still for a moment, then a creaking was heard. A door opened, and a man walked in. The man looked down at Nora, and shot." ]	1
	[WP] You and your brother were born with super powers, but you both kept it a secret. You became a hero. While your brother became a villain. Today is your final battle.	[ "Blood pounded in his ears, time had slowed to the ticking of a clock. His vision swam in light and his ears exploded in sound, as the glass tempered blade penetrated his skin, burying it self deep into the flesh of his shoulder. His palms became slick with sweat as they gripped his own blade , eighteen inches of crude razor sharp metal perfect for killing In the tight confines of a dank alley, as his fingers tightened around the hilt. The blade leapt in his hand and drove pain deep through his wound, sending needles of agony through his body as it drove in deeply into the thugs stomach.\n\nDust and ash fell from the sky, caressing his skin as it settled gently on his face. The city was aflame, decades of hard work gone up in the whoosh of fire. His power over metal was nothing compared to the flame. The thug groaned at his feet, one of his brothers pawns, he retracted the sword back into his palm. It's metallic structure pooling into inky blackness, as it moulded over his palm. With his normal hand, he pulled at his black t shirt and inspected the wound to his upper arm, nothing awful but left untreated it would cause him to be slow, he pinged the metal to his other hand, flying through the air the size of a billiard ball, made up of constantly shifting patterns in the light. The ball rolled up his muscular arms and enclosed the wound. \n\nHe sighed to himself, as the cold unforgiving brittle nature of the element filled the gaping gash. He steadied himself as he felt the fibres of the metal close the broken veins and plug every gap. His mind drifted as he wondered what it would be like to fully enclose himself in metal. He'd never tried it, his powers where difficult to control when it came to his own body, he could hide the metal deep inside like his sword and use it to plug wounds. He even designed the city he stood in, shaping and changing the concrete reinforced with thick metal Rods. But the concentration of being enclosed in metal, it scared him. The slightest hiccup and he could crush himself, or suffocate. \n\n\n\nA shout of alarm grabbed his attention, another team of thugs employed by his insane brother. He steadied himself a final time and faced to meet them.\nThe team where well equipped, with plastic pistols, he couldn't sense a single speck of metal on them. Damn. \n\n\nThey opened fire, he dragged a car closer for cover as he ducked behind it. Bollocks. The shots where coming closer as the team fought to encircle him, rubber bullets now hammered down like evil rain. He reached out with his mind, seeing internally the make up of all the metal. Smoke blossomed like a thick racking cough as orange flames lit up the skyline. God did he hate fire. There, he focused. A thick metal manhole cover. He pulled up with his mind, reshaping it into a deadly buzz saw blade, And let it fly like a frisbee through the air. Sending it spiralling around him required immense effort. The harsh cold unforgivingness of metal required shear effort to bend to his will unlike the flames of passion and anger which could fuel themselves, metal required constant oppressive persuasion to take it's new shape.\n\nThe blade flew through the team of soldiers, snagging at limbs, cutting deeply as it bit into flesh. Amputating in shear butchers fashion as it cleaved through the air. He thought it was beautiful. \n\n\n\"That'll do Michael\" \nHe sucked in air, there was none. The heat washed over him, as it burnt the atmosphere like a volcano belching liquid death. His concentration wavered as the metal saw melted into charred goo. \nShit.\n\n\nHis throat was dry, and his voice cracked.\n\"David, you cannot do this\" he stared at the flames that now encircled him in a vortex of utter misery. He barely made out the flickering figure of his brother.\n\"But I am Michael, your tyranny has ended. The iron will burn beneath my touch. I am the Dragon!\" The flickering figure stepped out of the vortex, breathing flame.\n\n\n\"Tyranny? The only tyranny is you little brother\" he took a step closer to his brother, he felt his clothing singe and his arm ached with pain.\n\"I will not live in your shadow any longer. I will caste my own light. I am the flame of the world\" his brother raged, sending out flames that lashed at his skin. \n\n\nHe quickly pooled the cool metal into his hands, turning it to a heavy lead to protect him from the flames. It wouldn't last long. Willing the charred pool of the buzz saw into his hands as well, he caste a sort of shield of metal. Sending all his strength into making it withstand the blaze that was being blasted in his face. It was hard to breathe.\n\n\nHis brother chuckled manically, laughing at his awful attempt at protection. \n\"You think you can stop me Michael? You think you can stop the fire? You're more idiotic then I thought\" Davids face was awash with colour as his eyes glowed with red casting a demonic figure. Michael reached out further, seeking the very metal that he used to build the cityscape. The rods came to him, he pulled harder and harder as they bent within the walls. Tugging free of the concrete. \n\nWithin seconds he had a dozen at his command turning into a liquid once more, he had just enough. The flames had eaten away at his small shield, his feet burnt as his shoes melted to his skin. His hair was crisping and his eyes stung. \nDavid didn't have a clue as he continued to pelt Michael's shield , as the liquid metal pooled at his feet. Being persuaded and coerced to slip along the melted Tarmac. \n\n\n\"David. stop, don't make me hurt you.\" Michael screamed behind his tiny wall that was shrinking by the second. \n\"I AM A GOD\" the fire of hatred had consumed him, the shear anger and hatred his brother displayed made Michael flinch, his brother was a kind soul, a doctor who had saved countless people before he had found their late fathers gift.\n\n\nTheir father, a keen geneticist and advocate for genetic modification had given each a gift, building his twin children to be who he wanted them to be, even in the apparent test tube they where conceived in . For David the would be medical student to seek out the secrets to immortality, the power to clean, to control temperature. To heat up items and kill the harmful bacteria and sterilise an environment within moments.\nFor Michael, the architect, to build the world in his fathers image, the power to control the metallic elements, to shape iron and steel with his mind. \n\nEver since the day their father on his death bed entrusted Michael to look after his brother, David was jealous, constantly pushing on his abilities to out perform his Brother barely moments older then himself. \n\n\n\"DAVID, YOU WILL DIE\" Michael bellowed once more, hoping to calm the torrent of fire lashing at his shield. The metal rods, now completely pooled at the unassuming fire deities feet. \n\"I WILL NOT LIVE IN THE CITY YOU CONSTRUCTED, I SHALL NOT LIVE IN YOUR SHADOW ANY MORE. I WILL BURN YOU FROM THIS EARTH MICHAEL\" the self proclaimed dragons words, lashed the remaining air. \n\n\"I'm so sorry brother\" Michaels words, now just a whisper. As he willed the metal up and in. The reinforced rods, crafted from a fire proof metal to help protect his buildings. Rushed into the flame, enclosing it, gliding deeply into his brothers body.\n\nThe flames began to stutter and die, as Michael let go. The cold strength of metal, it's unforgiving stubbornness to move, matched with the fireproofed alloy it was blended with, suffocated the flames.\n\nEven a dragon, the son of a would be god, needs to breath.\n", "I walked into the hospital, everyone was screaming and shouting in panic. The injured were being rushed in. I pushed the mask up above my forehead to get a better view. 'Cafeteria - Basement level 1. Take Elevator group C'. People began to run from the lounge area as I leisurely walked to my destination.\n\nThe TV blared loudly, \"As the Alpha situation rises. We bring you helicopter footage from the attack, the down town area is devastated as you can see this Alpha with a mask jumps four stories in a single bound and pummels vehicles. A city wide evacuation has been issued, national guard has been mobilized. People are asked to remain...\" The elevator pings, the doors open. \n\n\"Sir! I will ask you politely to please leave the premises!\" The guard was shaking in his shirt, the other four watched him closely. \"We have injured, women and children on the premises, if you have any humanity left please leave in a calm manner. I look at him an reply, \"I'm hungry.\"\n\n\"Sir. Please you make everyone uncomfortable. Please just leave, we don't want more trouble.\" A group of people watch from the corridor and I can smell mash potatoes and chicken fried steak.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nI make it to the lunch hall, I can hear the guards moaning in pain in the corridor and no one is here to serve me. \"Someone better get me two scoops of that fluffy shit...\", No one is in the cafeteria with me. I walk around the back and make it three scoops, put some corn on it, sprinkle some of the cheese from the salad bar, place one steak on top, and pour gravy. I walk to the fountain pop machine and pour myself some orange soda and grab a rice crispy. A last meal never looked so good. \n\nI turn on the television and can see they surrounded the hospital. I see some of the people I injured, and I watched them start evac and airlifting patients out of the hospital. I watch as they focus on a woman in blue and a young girl with a green back pack. \"If the timeline was in my favor, I think baby would have liked a backpack like that.\" A tear rolled down my cheek and I continue eating. Suddenly I hear air pressure change.\n\n\"You fucking cunt!\" It was my kid brother. \"You killed her! Why, you twisted piece of shit.\" I stared at him for a moment, and stirred my potatoes. \n\n\"Do you know why I like hospitals Monty?\" I take a bite, with my mouth full and chewing. \"Because they rip off the people, but they have the cheapest and tastiest food.\" My brother's rage was stifling. I knew I would get him.\n\n\"You fucking killed Ashley! She was trying to help you, she was trying to get you help.\" I looked at him and gave him an exasperated chuckle.\n\n\"I see your portals gotten bigger.\" I say lazily.\n\n\"Fuck you!\" His voice was whimpering.\n\n\"You know what she wanted to do for me? She wanted to institutionalize me!\" I put my hand in the plate I was eating and shoved across the dining hall. \"I killed so many people. Mexico wants me, the world court actually backed up the cartel and are trying to get me for war crimes! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THEY WOULD DO TO ME IF THE GOVERNMENT GOT ME!?\" I stand up breaking the solid stand table from the wall. \"These motherfuckers came into my home, and killed my daughter! For stopping their dealers from shooting up a city block. Yet, the world is on their side because they are scared of an Alpha! They labeled us already Mont! We are the oldest of our kind, and the next generation are children, yet!\"\n\n\"No, they are scared of you!\" He stood, straight up and pointed his finger at me. \"I'm going to give you to them!\"\n\n\"Did you forget!? I endure, I'm durable, and I have more strength than anything on this planet!\" \n\n\"Your not a god, you piece of shit!\"\n\n\"Well, we'll find out who's yours today!\" I say as Monty snapped his fingers.", "I always knew it would end this way, I guess we both did.\n\nWe were brothers, two sides of the same coin, both opposite and identical. He was the yin to my yan, my image in the mirror.\n\nWhen we were younger he used to dominate. I would create towers out of bricks, and he would smash them down, I would draw pictures to see them torn apart. \n\nWe had always been strong, but something had happened as we were conceived. Something that had caused the embryo to split, identical twins, but not before warping the DNA. Our blood has been poured over by scientists scratching around for answers for years now. They won't find anything with certainty though; you can't always determine where a tree first sprouted. All they know is that we are different. We are special.\n\nOur differing personalities continued to rub as we aged, he was always so cocky, so sure, so flippant. Where he would leave things first time, assuming correctness, I would be thorough, I would be rigorous. In short, I wanted order, and he wanted chaos.\n\nOur physical differences also became apparent as we grew. We were head and shoulders above our classmates; physically stronger, uniquely intelligent and also, a certain seriousness that we could never sense in our 'peers'. We couldn't fly or see through walls or other physics-defying acts of nonsense. We were not cartoons, we were simply better humans.\n\nWe had been friends of sorts once, but our different outlooks and shared need to see the world our way turned us into natural enemies. We started to drift apart, seeking others to help fulfil our goals.\n\nThe beauty of order however, is in it's strength. When I built towers, he smashed them down. When I mixed up concrete from our fathers garage he found the sledgehammer. When I invented synthetic polymers grown from diamond seeds, he invented liquified nanobots, capable of taking them apart from a atomic level.\n\nBut humans are not materials.\n\nI created an army, rigorous and disciplined, with sharpened bayonets, polished barrels, military intelligence and most importantly of all, discipline.\n\nHe created a rabble.\n\nI watched with pleasure as my wall of bodies tore into his 'society'. I watched as the farmers and builders rushed to protect families from the most powerful military force seen by mankind. I watched as the same walls he destroyed ploughed slowly into the sludge of his own creation. I wish I'd seen him then, seen his face as he realised he'd finally been beaten, but fate is not so kind. He is on the run, somewhere near the Mexican border. It is only a matter of time.\n\nWe swept his people aside, as we will now sweep others, and eventually I will watch him hang from gallows made with mathematical precision.\n\nHe wanted chaos, where I demanded order. He wanted freedom.\n\nI demand order." ]	3
	[WP] Humanity meets an alien race who are awed, not by our scientific or military achievements, but by the ability of humans to create fiction.	[ "Walking through a dense forest, trees tops knitted together so that stars are only visible every few steps, panic mounting from the oppressive mass of dark woodland in front of you, and no way of telling which direction you’re heading. On the crescendo of panic a bright light catches you mid stride, your Judas body refusing to co-operate with your brain which knows that now is the time to run. That’s how it’s supposed to happen right? Instead, I receive a formal letter in the post, requesting me to arrive promptly at 11am for a meeting with Government officials regarding some of the short stories that I had been posting anonymously on social media platforms. \n\nI arrive early to a non-descript building, with grey faced men in white shirts and ill tailored suits confirming that this was indeed Government office territory. I am lead to a small interview room, and am requested to wait until the officer assigned to my case arrives. I hadn’t been aware that there was a case, and I begin to feel uneasy.\nWhen the door opens, I am greeted by a man similar to those I’d seen on my arrival. There was nothing distinct about him, he has the same grey skin, the dull eyes, and I was not surprised by the warm film of moist left on my hand after shaking his. ‘Miss Joyce, I’ll get right to the point’, his tongue flicks as though a separate being as he pauses for dramatic effect. ‘The literature that you are producing has come to our attention, and we have been monitoring your online activity for some months now’.\n\nI am puzzled as to what interest my literature could be to the Government, but he cuts me off when I begin to ask. ‘The ‘fiction’ that you are producing, your stories with undertones of unnecessary consumption, of lifetime loans to keep the people indebted, of ‘other ways’ of living- they are dangerous Miss Joyce. We’ve been aware of you for some time, and others like you. This movement of ‘free thinkers’, is a threat to us all, and you must understand the consequences. The most important quality of the human race is their ability to accept reality. That reality is the reality that has been created for you. It’s the reality that maintains civil order; it ensures that people go to work, pay their bills, and live their lives quietly, without intention’.\n\nIts bait and I know it is, but I can’t help myself. ‘Reality?’ it comes out in a low tone and the anger is tangible. ‘The need for new, for more, for bigger and for better, and the debt to finance this stuff, these things! The low wages and long hours, the exhaustion, and the media that tells us that this is normal, this is the reality?! It’s a fiction! And the Government is the author’. My voice is shaking now as my fury rises- I lean forward, and I ask him- ‘How can you do this to your own race?’\n\nHe smiles a thin, slimy smile. \n", "The Zorblaxian representative examined the document intently, as though daring it to reveal its secrets. As far as anyone in the room knew, he (not that you could really put human gender to a Zorblaxian) didn't read any Earth languages, though his spoken English was improving rapidly. Nevertheless he stared intently at the sheaf of pages, hastily printed out by one of the million assistants that seemed to be waiting outside the room. His proboscis absentmindedly sucked some mucus off his single eyeball, putting some in the room in mind of someone licking their lips, and putting many more off their lunch.\n\nThe alien turned to Colonel Davies, who was really only there because he knew planes, and there was hope of some sort of a technology sharing deal on propulsion systems. The Zorblaxian had turned up his proboscis at medical and computer technology. But now, in reaction to a chance reference by Davies, who was too used to trotting out his classical education to those who dismissed him as a dumb fighter jock, the creature was examining The Odyssey.\n\nThe alien began hesitantly, \"So you say this...O-Diss-I-Yes is returning from war. And meets many strange beings along the way.\"\n\nDavies nodded. \"Yes, and then he returns to his wife and has to defeat her suitors. The other men trying to marry her, for they believe Odysseus is dead.\"\n\nThe Zorblaxian gave the little wiggle that it used as a nod. \"And this Odysseus...is not real.\"\n\n\"Well he may have been. But even if he was he didn't do any of these things.\"\n\n\"Yes. Because none of these...beings he meets are...real either? They are as you said...made up?\" The creature sounded almost titillated!\n\n\"Yes indeed, they don't exist. They're a fantasy.\"\n\n\"So someone wrote this, but was not recording true events, instead just taking things from his own mind?\"\n\n\"Well yeah.\"\n\nA thoughtful pause. \"And do others have this ability?\"\n\nColonel Davies tried and failed to read the expressions on his superiors' faces. With no lie instructed he figured he'd just tell the truth. \"Some are better than others, but yes, most of us can write things down from our heads.\"\n\nA smug upcurl of the left skin flap. \"Deception.\"\n\n\"Not really deception if everyone knows.\"\n\nA scrunch of doubt in the fleshy top part of his face. \"So you have more like this? More made-up writing?\"\n\n\"Yes, we have thousands of stories.\"\n\n\"Thousands.\" The creature's proboscis was waving all around its face now, and its central arm-like appendage was quivering.\n\nIts giant eye looked at Colonel Davies, and then around the room. \"I think we may be able to make a deal.\" ", "The keys landed rattling in the wooden bowl next to the door as Felix stepped through the door.\n\n\"I'm back!\" he announced to no one particular.\n\n\"Mmmmh.\" came the muffled sound out of Anna's room, gunfire, explosions and screeching Aliens following through her stereo.\n\n\"Greetings, friend-Felix!\" Shaq-sla bellowed, storming out of the kitchen to greet him, mandibles twitching in giddy excitement.\n\n\"Woah, careful, Shaq!\"\n\nUltarian greeting still weirded Felix out. Lots of bowing and touching and intense eye contact. Shaq was cool and all (as cool as a freshly hatched Winter-breed could be), but he suspected she tried to be extra friendly to her human room mates to coerce them into telling them stories. She always used the extra-friendly addendums and joyfully reared her scales whenever they greeted each other.\n\n\"Have you not forgotten our agreement, friend-felix?\"\n\nHe sat down the shopping bag on the kitchen table and started unloading it, dividing the groceries into the corresponding compartments.\n\n\"No, I haven't\" he grinned. \"I thought you wanted to wait so you could enjoy it the entire week?\"\n\n\"I did, I did! But, oh, there is just so much to see! So much information to gather, so many stories to be told!\"\n\nShe perched herself on a chair, her scales and mandibles now vibrating uncontrolably excited.\n\n\"Just now I enjoyed a stunning lie friend-anna was enjoying!\"\n\n\"Lie?\"\n\n\"You know. A ... uh ... what's that word ... story-that-didn't-really-happen-in-the-past?\"\n\nFelix chuckled to himself as he put the milk into the fridge.\n\n\"You mean Anna's game?\"\n\n\"Yes! Oh, it's so amazing how you and your people have such a great capacity to tell fake tales!\"\n\nFelix didn't respond and simply made a face.\n\n\"Oh, did I upset you, friend-felix?\"\n\n\"No, that's alright. It's just ... you're weird, Shaq.\"\n\n\"Yes! We're all weird! Now tell me again the story of the feline predator that is chasing the murine prey, but always unable to reach it!\"\n\nFelix grinned again, fished the DVD out of the pile and put it in a waiting console.", "\"Cre-a-ti-vi-ty?\" the iridescent, almost flower-like creature asked in wonder. \"What is this creativity?\"\nThe Triln, as they had called themselves, seemed surprised by my simple answer. An hour earlier, they'd taken me along with 15 other members who had been attending a literary fiction seminar in Ramapo. They'd proceeded to bombard us with questions about the reality in a series of fiction books, ranging from Vonnegut's Slaughter-House Five to Milne's Winnie the Pooh. \n\"It is what makes us human,\" answered another sequestered member. \"It allows us to imagine things that never were, that might never be. Creativity and imagination and curiosity - they are the fundamentals of fiction.\" \n\"We do not understand,\" came the halting, breathy voice of what seemed to be their leader. As we had all come to realize, these aliens did not understand the concept of fiction at all. They could not process what a world without complete reality and full of wonder for what could not be could exist for as long as Earth had. \n\"Think about it: forget what is real for a moment. Close your...eye and open your mind,\" yet another author was attempting to explain. \"Let your soul wander and just begin to imagine things. Don't think too hard, just let it happen.\"\nAfter yet another excruciating half hour where the Triln attempted to imagine fiction, someone finally decided to ask them what they did for fun if everything was real. \n\"We live,\" they replied matter-of-factly. \"We do not dwell on possibilities as you do; they are not real. So we live.\"\n\"No,\" I spoke up once more. \"You exist, not live. You do not wonder what-ifs, you do not see what could be, you do not see beyond what can be seen. You do not truly understand what it is to live.\" \nThis seemed to rile them. \"You are incorrect, human. We live, we do not need to know this fiction of yours to live. Existing and living are the same; there is no difference as you seem to think. We care about your fiction simply because we have traveled the universe and have not seen anything like it. That, and only that, is why we have not killed your otherwise infuriating race.\"\n\"Because we have the one thing you can never know? No matter how we explain it, you will not understand. Fiction is created, and to create you need to understand what it is like to be a creator. That is what we humans are - each of us a god in his and her own right. You have never even given a thought to creating; all you do is steal from others and assume ownership.\"\nThe leader began to exude a redder coloring around its edges, changing into something beautiful and terrible all at once.\n\"Your insolence will get you and your whole planet killed, human.\"\nI smirked. \"But then you would never understand the beauty of fiction, and, perhaps worse, you would never have any more fiction to awe you.\"", "\"The aliens don't have fiction.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"They don't have fiction.\"\n\n\"Don't be stupid. There's an alien movie playing at the theater downtown. One of their old sci-fi things. Kind of like War of the Worlds. It won some sort of award.\"\n\n\"Yeah. That's what scares me. You see that movie?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I saw it.\"\n\n\"You remember how it ended?\"\n\n\"Yeah, like I said, War of the Worlds. They find a virus that kills the invaders and they're saved.\"\n\n\"Make. They make a virus that kills the invaders. And they send it to the invaders' planet.\"\n\n\"Yeah, okay.\"\n\n\"So they wipe out an entire species.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but it's just a movie. I mean, I think we even sent them War of the Worlds in return, to keep with the theme.\"\n\n\"They sent us a film saying they'd wiped out a species. We sent back a recording saying we'd done the same. The difference is, they don't understand fiction.\"\n\n\"What we did was exchange threats.\"", "\"Uh, you wanted to see me?\" said the author as he stepped into the alien captains quarters.\n\n\"Yes\" said the alien, his voice had a kind of talking underwater quality to it \"please, sit\"\n\nThe author looked down at the giant spike the alien had just motioned to.\n\n\"I'm good to stand\"\n\n\"Suit yourself\" the alien sat down on the spike. There was a suctioning sound. The author cringed.\n\n\"So…uh\"\n\n\"You're wondering why you are here\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"We've been observing your species for quite some time\"\n\n\"So the UFO sightings are real?\"\n\n\"No, our cloaking technology is undetectable by humans and human technology. OUr observations have led us to believe most UFO sightings are government surveillance craft\"\n\n\"Oh ok. Wait\"\n\n\"In our observations humans appear largely unremarkable. In fact of all species we have observed, humans are exceedingly unremarkable\"\n\n\"Uhm thank you?\"\n\n\"Your technology is passable but archaic, your conflicts are neither peaceful nor species ending, you have systems that involve attempting to resolve conflict through communication but are still quite terrible at talking to each other\"\n\n\"I know it's true but it still kind of hurts\"\n\n\"Humans are unremarkable in all areas except one\"\n\nThere was a pause, the alien readjusted on the spike.\n\n\"Uhm…\"\n\n\"I believe you would call it fiction\"\n\n\"Ahh. Sorry fiction?\"\n\n\"Yes, you are a creator of fiction, correct?\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\nThere was another pause.\n\n\"Was that everything?\" said the author\n\n\"No, I would like you to tell me about fiction\"\n\n\"What about it?\"\n\n\"Everything\"\n\n\"Every…everything, right ok, sorry if we could backtrack, no one else creates fiction\"\n\n\"The universe is a large, and even though are travels have allowed us to see more of it than humans, or any other species to our knowledge, much of it is still unmapped.\nIt is possible, perhaps even likely that many other species create fiction. But of the 556 that we have observed humans are unique in their ability and desire to create fiction\"\n\n\"OK and so you want to know…everything, about fiction\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"Ok well, uhm fiction is when we make up stuff\"\n\n\"So it is lies\"\n\n\"No. Well yes. Not really. Kind of. Yes and No?\"\n\n\"So it is made up but it is not lies?\"\n\n\"Well…a lie you're trying to deceive people, you make stuff up to stop people from knowing the truth. With fiction you make stuff up to try and and help people know the truth\"\n\n\"So fiction is truth?\"\n\n\"Well if it's good, I guess. Depends on the type of fiction\"\n\n\"The type of fiction?\"\n\n\"Yes well, see sometimes people make stuff up just to entertain people, I for instance make stuff up to try and make people laugh\"\n\n\"And when fiction makes people laugh it does not help them know the truth\"\n\n\"Well I prefer when fiction that tries to teach me something also makes me laugh\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Well some of the truths people get at are kind of harsh, so it's nice to have laughter as a counterbalance\"\n\n\"So humans need fiction to cope with reality?\"\n\n\"I'm not sure I would say need…\"\n\n\"My planet also uses humour to combat harshness. It is why we teach all our warriors to laugh while they slaughter our enemies\"\n\n\"Well that sounds…terrifying\"\n\n\"If humans do not need fiction then why do you have it?\"\n\n\"Well we don't need it but I think it's maybe one level below need\"\n\n\"Want?\"\n\n\"Is there really no middle ground between need and want?\"\n\n\"If you do not need something, but still seek it, you merely want it\"\n\n\"I guess that makes sense. Yes we want fiction?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Uhm…\"\n\n\"Would truth not be a better way of teaching truth?\"\n\n\"Uhm…well…uhh…ok…metaphors\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"Do you have metaphors?\"\n\n\"We have observed them in your species and are familiar with them, but we do not employ them in speech\"\n\n\"Right but like, ok say I crash my car and the bill is really expensive instead of saying the real price for repairs I could say the repairs are costing me a million dollars, to really drive home that the repairs are expensive\"\n\n\"Would that not be hyperbole\"\n\n\"Oh shit\"\n\n\"And our observations have suggested most humans do not and will never have or even see a million dollars. Wouldn't the actual price be a better metric for humans to judge the cost by?\"\n\n\"Well yeah, but they don't have a million dollars so it's a big number for them so it really drives home how expensive it is\"\n\n\"Isn't there a chance that a human could not realize this is fiction and believe that the repairs are that much. Could that not lead to confusion, where a human believes you to be in possession of a million dollars? They could be upset when they find out it's not true\"\n\n\"I guess it could happen but it's not likely…\"\n\n\"Why do humans hate being deceived and yet love fiction?\"\n\n\"Well because…uhm…ok see because they believe the lies because they want to believe the lies\"\n\n\"Because the lies teach them truths?\"\n\n\"Well no usually lies help them run from the truth\"\n\n\"So humans don't like the truth?\"\n\n\"Uhm well yes and no\"\n\n\"So they like the truth sometimes and not others\"\n\n\"I guess yeah, whenever it's convenient but anyway, they want the lies to be true and then they learn that they aren't and they're upset\"\n\n\"Because what they want to be true isn't?\"\n\n\"Well yeah and also they might be angry for buying into it but with fiction, they maybe want to know it's not true, but they know it's not true so when they accept it as uhm…\"true\" I guess, then they get to live the lie without being deceived\" said the author, his voice rising at the end, asking a question to no one in particular.\n\n\"And despite not being true they can learn truth from it?\"\n\n\"Again they can if it's good and they're paying attention\"\n\n\"So good art teaches truth?\"\n\n\"Art's kind of subjective but yeah I think good art teaches truth\"\n\n\"So fiction is both lies and truth?\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Thank you for your time, this has been most enlightening\"\n\n\"It has?\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"Good then can you explain it back to me because I have no idea what I just said\"\n\n\"A joke, you do know what you said, but are still kind of unclear on fiction. The idea that you wouldn't know is supposed to be humorous\"\n\nThere was a pause.\n\n\"We will have someone escort you back down the the planet surface\"\n\nThe author turned to leave, then turned around.\n\n\"Before I go…\"\n\n\"You wish to ask about religion\"\n\n\"Are you guys telepathic\"\n\n\"We are neither all \"guys\" nor telepathic\"\n\n\"Sorry guys is like…a sort of fiction. I guess. Don't adopt that one though, it will make dealing with humans easier\"\n\n\"Everyone we have talked to has asked about religion\"\n\nA moment of silence.\n\n\"Every planet observed has some form of what you would call religion, even ours. It is possible that it is true, it's possible that it is lies. It is possible that it is fiction, truth out of lies, lies that species willingly inhabit knowing they are false. There are those on every planet who believe that\"\n\n\"I feel like there is a but coming\"\n\n\"With each new planet we discover, with each new species we observe and with each new fact we learn, we find ourselves less and less qualified to say\"\n\n\"oh\"\n\n\"I see now that it is questions like this that might drive a species to create fiction\"\n\n\"You have no idea\"" ]	6
	[WP] While first sequencing the human genome, scientists discover a deliberate message in our genetic code	[ "Back in the nineties, the Human Genome Project was in full swing, trying to map out the genetic blueprint, by which all human cells were instructed to exist.\n\nThe usual work was going under by the hard-working professors at the University of California, one of the myriads of bilogical labs tasked with contribution. They were reading up the nucleotide pairs in a given sequence from the DNA using BAC-based sequencing techniques and writing down the order of the nucleotides. The supercomputer tasked with reading the nucleobases of a sperm sample just finished doing one such sequencing work on an October day in 1997. It was some undergrad student, working as a lab assistant hoping for better grades and so that he can put it on his CV, who first noticed the unusual orderdnes of the letters printed on the lab results, while delivering it to his professors.\n\nMost sequences had a random assortment of A, C, G and T letters, denoting the four basic nucleotides composing the human DNA. This particular sequence, however, was ordered as \"GATTACA\" repeating over and over.\n\nAfter checking for errors in the system, it turned out that indeed, the human genome had a sequence of just repeating GATTACA over and over, 3144131 times, than another sequence of 3144131 random letters and then another instance of letters repeating GATTACA 3144131 times. It turned out that if you assign the four letters in alphabetical order to the 1, 2, 3 and 4 numbers 3144131 also translates to GATTACA.\n\nThe professors and students working on the project became celebrities. The undergrad student dropped out of college to pursue a carreer of stand-up comedy after he became famous due to this finding. The Human Genome Project's funding doubled and was hurried, to see if another such anomaly can be found. Computing numbers in pi, Euler's number and other notable transcendental and irrational numbers surged up. Until this date, pi and e is known to the first 2^57885161 decimal and hexadecimal digits because of this, but no such pattern was found.\n\nAlmost every publication, forum, imageboard, tv show, talk show and tabloid began \n\npattern-hunting in the sequence of random letters between the two instance of GATTACA repetition. The most popular type was assigning the four letters some other symbol (mainly numbers) and seeing what pattern emerges. People found, among others, sentences, prophecies, more numbers, computer code, IP addresses and coordinates, pointing anywhere from Tianjin and the Kola-Peninsula to Alpha Centauri and distant galaxies, constellations. It was also pure coincidence the movie GATTACA hit theatres on the same day this finding was made. Of course, nobody believed the production team saying that they came up with the name way before the undergrad student finding it. The film was dismissed as a cash-in on a fad and did generally bad in the box office, although it did develop a cult following, praising its unique style and its philosophical approach to fate and your control over fate.\n\nMost academicians and intellectuals agreed on that it is a sign that a higher level of existence created life and put the pattern in it, a god, an alien, or future humans who have mastered time travel or navigation in higher dimensions. The most popular candidate was by far God, although I personally think it's an inherent bias caused by the christian or jewish nurturing the majority of the disputants grew up with. The interpretation of the meaning of the message was a bit more centralised, with two major camps.\n\nIt was either that or that God was sending a warning that we are splashing around in an ocean we think is merely a puddle, that we are ascending to another biologic classification, Homo Deus, with complete knowledge of the universe, life and beyond, creating and knowing things that were not fated to be known and created, all these assumptions were fueled by the fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the future and fear of not knowing future.\n\nThe other side said that God is indicating humanity has gone so far that it is able\nto put fate into its hands, that we are the sculptors of ourselves, that human ingenuity and hard work was able to replicate existence as a string of four characters, that we are able to understand matter from the unseeable Planck units and microscopic nucleic acid to macroscopic sizes of galaxies so big, we can't even fathom it, but still go ahead and try.\n\nThese two camps fought verbally with eachother both in academic and everyday life, between philosophers and between people waiting in line at the grocery store. \n\nThe shitstorm went on for a couple of years, people couldn't form a consensus as to what to do with the message, since everyone interpreted the string of random letters differently. It became less and less talked about as time went on. It became a footnote or a fun fact in the biology and history books, overshadowed by the importance of the Human Genome Project, during which it was discovered. It still gets mentioned occasionally, here and there, similarly how the mystery behind the building of the pyramids is mentioned here and there, occasionally. The undergrad student's career went downhill too, after people found out he was not funny. He went back to finish up university, but because of general laziness he was unsuccesful in that endeavour, so he dropped out again and is currently working as a salesclerk in a 24/7, sometimes conversing with frequenters about the good old times and his 15 minutes of fame.\n\nThirty years have passed since then, the representative of the God of All Creations got bored of waiting for humanity to find her in the frozen wasteland of the Kola-Peninsula, so she packed up and went home, with a feeling of slight dissappointment.\n\n(This is my first ever WP, so sorry if it's not so good)", "Entry No. 56-Day 124 \nIt's been a week since I made the discovery. I know I should tell them...but it would ruin us all. I haven't slept since I discovered it. I may be going mad. Celera Genomics didn't know what they were messing with-sure our intentions were fine, but we weren't ready for this.\n\nEntry No. 59-Day 127\nI've decided to try and appear as if it's all fine. I'm going to take this to my grave if I can. I'll have to misdirect my colleagues. It won't be easy but I must do this. It's critical for our survival. \n\nEntry No. 64-Day 135\nThis will be my last entry. The project has been terminated. One of my German colleagues found my research this morning. They've halted all research. I suppose it doesn't matter. Nothing matters. " ]	2

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