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] Serial killer is on the loose, his thing is that he only kills the person who discovers his last victim first and does so with a 100% success rate. Now our hero accidentally finds his last victim.	[ "A man in a dark suit looks down at his handiwork. The smell of blood lightly seasons the air, the man takes a deep breath and soaks in the scene. Then he kneels down and whispers in the ear of the bloodied man below him, \"I was not born a killer. I was not born without empathy or compassion either. In actuality, I was not born, I am an alien from the planet Glococoquitera and I am here to(he tries to hold back a smile, but fails and begins chuckling)--sorry--(stiffles laughter) you should see the look on your face. I mean, you really thought I was an alien for a second didn't you? (Takes a deep breath and his face becomes serious again) No, but seriously, you know it always amuses me to tell people that I was once just like them. To tell them that I had friends and loving parents. That I had a dog (and I actually liked her). To tell them that to the naked eye, I was no different from any other Joey, Sally, or Jan on their street, but I did have a...dark streak, if you will. You see, I want you, and all of my other (he pauses to consider what word to use) toys to know that you have, well actually ...I guess you had, the capacity to be just like me.\" \n\nHe stands and pulls out a small syringe filled with a dark brown liquid from his pocket. Then, he moves to inject the man lying on the ground. Suddenly, he stops and says, \"Oh, I almost forgot, congrats on finding my last toy so quickly, I was...looking forward to my next game. Last time was a little messy, but you...you have been much more...still, so I will end this quickly. No need for delay.\" Without any delay he inserts the syringe and pushes the plunger. As the drops of liquid flow through the veins of the now deceased man, the man in the dark suit stands up and reaches into his pocket. Inside is a metallic card and it reads simply \"you're next\". \n\nTwo days later is a Tuesday. The sun is out and the sky is clear. The wind whips through the hair of a tall muscular man standing outside his home. He is smoking a cigarette and reading the morning paper. It is a normal day. He turns around to head back inside when something catches his eye. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a glint of light and decided to investigate. His muscles tense as he quickly walks toward the anomaly. Before he can see what it is his nose is assaulted by the putrid smell of decay. He recoils from the scent, but steels himself and continues on. When he finally reaches his destination, the man sees the body, the blood pooled to the right has already begun to congeal, the wounds on the decomposing body have already begun to fill with maggots, and the metallic card has already begun to sink into the dirt to the left of the corpse. The man examines the corpse and sees the card, immediately recognizing that the card was the anomaly that caught his eye, he reaches down and grabs the card and notices that there, on the cover, is written in perfectly neat script a message.\n\n\"Hello there,\" purrs a deep voice behind the tall man, \"don't turn around.\"\n\nThe tall man tenses but does not move.\n\n\"I didn't do this.\" the tall man replies resolutely.\n\n\"I know that, I did.\"\n\n\"What! why? who are you?\"\n\n\"Calm down, calm down, I can only answer one question at a time. And none of those are the right question are they buddy?\"\n\n\"W-why? What's the right question?\"\n\n\"The right question is, am I going to kill you.\"\n\n\"OK, are you going to-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes I am.\"\n\nThe tall man chuckles and turns around to see that it is the man in the dark suit.\n\n\"I don't think that you know who you're talking to kid.\"\n\n\"That may be, but I am no kid,\" the man in the dark suit reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a syringe, \"Now, let's get this over with shall we?\"\n\nThe tall man get into a fighting stance and prepares for a fight.\n\n\"Bring it.\"\n\nThe two trade blows grunting and groaning as each blow strikes squarer than the last. The man in the suit jabs the syringe into the neck of the tall man and pushes the plunger down about halfway before the tall man is able to wrestle the syringe out of the hand of the man in the suit. The two men wrestle for the syringe and the tall man wins out. He then plunges the syringe into the thigh of the man in the suit, immediately pushing the remainder of the liquid into his adversary. The two men stop fighting as they realize what has happened. They look at each other and fall to the ground almost simultaneously. \n\n\"Andrew\" the tall man says, reaching out his hand.\n\n\"Leslie,\" the man in the suit responds, taking Andrews hand softly and shaking it.\n\nThe two men look at each other and Andrew chuckles, \"Leslie, huh? No wonder you turned into such a creep.\"\n\n\"Yeah, kids can be real jerks when it comes to names.\" Leslie replies pleasantly.\n\n", "As he opened the door to the bedroom he knew what he would find. He hoped he was wrong. The police were out of leads, there were no more tricks in the book, nothing else in their arsenal. Every victim had found the previous one. That meant that a lot of the victims were civilians, but a few were first responders, like me. As a cop, I knew I signed up for a tough job, but nothing like this. The blood reached the ceiling, and the woman looked terrified. \n\nI won't let this happen to me too. This would solve both our problems. Julia had left me. Julia had left me and my life was over anyway. My child was gone with that witch of a woman and I was stuck in this goddamn job. It was over. This bastard can't kill anyone else if he doesn't kill me. \n\nHe unholsters his sidearm, puts it in his mouth and pulls the trigger. \nThe killings stop.", "He had had to get creative.\n\nEverything was here. The photos, the paraphernalia. The \"spoiled-for-choice\" arrangement of chromed sharp little metal things on trays, like the exam room of the dentist from hell. And finally, the knife, buried to the hilt in the victim's heart. Every time the same, despite the obvious difficulty here\n\nHere were the lights, mounted just so, under the victim, to cast the light on the wall, the St. Andrew's Cross of splayed limbs tied to a derrick, that was the signature of Marc Christian Mayer. The Showtime Killer, as the media, despite my stringent objections, had decided to call him.\n\nI'd been hunting him for months. I'd been getting closer,day by day, until he finally had to flee. He had gotten too predictable, I had gotten his picture, he had gotten too famous. I had gotten to him.\n\nOnce the news had gotten out that he, psychologically, needed his next victim to see the face of the previous one, it was over. A sweet Hispanic woman had stumbled on his latest, turned away, ran away screaming, just three days ago. She had screamed his name. I guess that was when, hiding in that closet in the motel, he realized it was over. No more victims.\n\nAttaching the knife to that spring-loaded plank, so it would drive the point home while his hands were still bound, was an impressive feat of engineering.\n\nHe had killed his last victim. \n\nI walked forward and stared into the unblinking, cold dead blues of Marc Christian Mayer.\n\nThe claymore, tied to the tripwire, made a quiet click...\n" ]	3
During the day I've had less and less energy, because at night the darkness is always getting closer. No one believes me and I'm losing all strength to fight it.	[WP] Alcohol seperates me from my thoughts when I close my eyes. I must drink to sleep, because every night something appears and attempts to make direct eye contact with me.	[ "Some people would say that Dave is an alcoholic, but they don't understand. \n\nDave has to go home to something he can't handle, something that would tear him apart if he ever looked it in the eyes. They just don't understand. No one has ever seen Dave sober, many people have asked why, and many people even look down on Dave, but they don't know the truth. They just don't know. \n\nEvery morning Dave lurches out of bed and goes to the nearest bar. Dave doesn't drink for pleasure, or for the company. Dave drinks to quiet the demon, to stop it from tearing him apart.\n\n---\n\nTim doesn't know why his dad does what he does. Every morning before Tim wakes up, his dad leaves. His dad comes home after Tim's gone to sleep, and when he goes to see his dad, he's already passed out. Tim remembers when his mom used to be at home, she had an accident.\n\n---\n\nAlthough Dave is a grown man, he can't look his own son in the eye. What he might see, what he's caused just might kill him. ", "Every time I feel like it takes an extra sip for me to finally slip away. At first I only needed a buzz, a couple of shots and I was done. And then a couple turned into a few, into a few more, and now, I don't even want look in the kitchen in the morning only to see the glass skeletons of my vice leering at me, empty, from the table. If I could even take pleasure in drinking anymore maybe that could soften the shame, but it turns out that when alcohol becomes a necessity, even brandy starts to taste an awful lot like medicine. But I swear to you I have to do this. My family thinks I'm crazy. You know, coming up with excuses, anything to get at those bottles. Even Sam left me, saying he would come back when I did. But I'm here, I'm still here, still me same as always. They just don't get it... They don't see it. That thing of shadows the light can't wipe away. I thought I was seeing things myself at first; a shift in darkness of my home here and there. Movement that only appeared in the corner of my eye. I got a little jittery, a little jumpy, but I wrote it off stress and just went to bed sooner. Then the shadows started to stick around. I would turn on lights at night the room would look darker than I remembered. I would shine a flash light in a cabinet and no matter what I did I could never get it to light up at night. I asked Sam if he could see and he swore it was just me. We went to the doctor and he said I was fine. I thought I was until one night I got up to get some water, clicked on the hall light, and there it was in my hallway. It sort of had arms, legs, or at least I think it did? It must have right? I could even make out a head shape. For every step I took back it came forward, and when I shut my eyes with a shriek all I opened them, there was nothing but air. I was hysterical and turned to run back into the bedroom only too see Sam was already in the hall. I clung to him sobbing, trying to put what I saw into words. Funny thing about that though, even now I can't picture what it looks like really, I just remember the eyes screwed shut like it was staring into the sun. Part of me wonders if maybe I could before the alcohol set in. I remember screaming at him 'You saw it? Oh God it wasn't just me, you saw it?!' But when his arms wrapped around me and he laid his cheek on my forehead, there was a long pause before I felt him slowly shake his head.\n\nThat was the night I had my first drink.\n\nThe next night I was terrified to go to bed and I stayed up all night with Sam at my side. We chatted and held each other until sunrise and I didn't see a thing. Relieved, Sam went to catch some sleep while I stayed in our room to read, I wasn't quite ready to let my guard down. It took no time at all for my eyes to grow heavy and the moment they did I felt a presence in my room. My head snapped up and there that thing was again. Only this time the eyes weren't so tightly shut. It leaned towards me, a yawning pitch black monstrosity with its eyelids twitching with the effort to open. I screamed again grabbing my lamp as a weapon but when I swung, the only thing there was Sam in the doorway, watching me with quiet concern on his face. It went on like this for the next few days, Sam sleeping when he could and me keeping vigil the whole time through. I discovered that every time I nearly feel asleep it would appear before me and its presence would overwhelm me. When looked away or swung it vanished. We tried to leave the house thinking if we slept somewhere else the monster would leave. But then that same script played out in a new setting. I would start to fall asleep, it showed up, I would freak out, Sam would come running. It became very apparent that things couldn't go on like this. On the 4th day of this nightmare, as I sat in my kitchen falling to pieces, I looked into the dining room and saw our liquor stash. Alcohol always knocked me out pretty fast... Maybe, just maybe...\n\nThat was the second drink.\n\nFor a while it worked. The drinks would knock me out and the monster never got a chance to appear to me. I've never been much of a drinker but I've never hated it either, so it was manageable. When I noticed the buzz getting lighter I upped the amount. And then when that felt kinda good I added a bit more. Sam was concerned but I waved him off. This drink was kind of good, maybe a few more sips won't hurt. I don't know when a few more turned into too much but it did and now I can't stop. Eventually the alcohol wasn't knocking me out and it became more of a gradual drop off. That's when the monster came back and I would see it, struggling to open its eyes to me before I fell asleep each and every night. I stopped having the energy to do anything. When you spend night after night drunk and terrified the next day isn't pretty, but I was pretty sure it was better than the alternitive, even if I didn't know what that was. Sam left eventually. That wasn't pretty either. Family turned on me. Job is sinking. And now? Now I'm just so tired. Its relenetless. It's there every single night, my own personal demon, its eyes closer to opening each day and I'm sick of ffighting and watching my life fall apart. I don't know how much more of this abuse my body can take. I'm done. So now I'm sitting here at the kitchen table, with just a cup of tea, an empty house and you know what?\n\nI feel a little sleepy too.\n\n(ps I wrote this on my phone and its quite late, so please forgive any grammar issues)" ]	2
	[WP] An alien civilization declares war on humanity. They soon realize that humans have invented weapons that no other civilization they know of has: firearms.	[ "\"People of earth, surren-\" he was cut off by a spurt of blue goo oozing from it's (head? not really sure).\n\n\"What the fuck just happened?\" The aliens began to pull out their crossbows.\n\n\"What is that?\" The POTUS (who, after the last invasion, took to carrying a pistol) fired off the rest of his clip into the armada's face.\n\n\"Eat lead alien scum!\"\n\n\"Wh-what is that?\"\n\nShe blew the smoke coming off of her barrel. \"Freedom, bitch.\"", "They came to the US, metalic golems, and began to demolish everything. Until the military arrived. The golems didn't go past a mile until they were all nuked within five minutes of landing. We waited for the smoke to clear, watching the live feed on television.\n\nHelicopters circled the sight, and the camera panned to a closer shot of blasted metal and purple ooze. Just then, a helicopter falls just out of frame. The spaceship, it was still in the air, and they were sending more. There was something glowing. The camera panned closer, there was a green flash, and it went black.", "\"You know something?\"\n\n\"Aye, I know a fair bit. I go down the pub with you, because I know we usually have a good night when we do. Why?\"\n\n\"No, nothing like that.\"\n\n\"Then what? Is it about those invaders?\"\n\n\"...yeah, it is.\"\n\n\"Oh, for Chrissakes, here we go.\"\n\n\"No, no, I'm not one of those 'Alien Rights' twats. I'm one of those guys that looks at them and wonders.\"\n\n\"Wonders what?\"\n\n\"I wonder if they even know what the hell is going on.\"\n\n\"What're you talking about? Bastards have spaceships.\"\n\n\"But do they even work? Sure, they can burn a few farmhouses, and abduct chickens, and whatnot, but look at them. Remember the attack on London a few months ago?\"\n\n\"Course I do: I killed some of the bastards myself.\"\n\n\"And what did you use to do that?\"\n\n\"Some of the guns that one of our boys dropped. Grabbed a few magazines and strapped on the pistol holster, then went to town on them.\"\n\n\"But didn't you notice how they reacted?\"\n\n\"They died.\"\n\n\"No, no, the ones who heard the gunfire. They just stood there, looking at you like you were a nutter.\"\n\n\"Huh, I guess they did. Why's that important? Maybe they were just aware that I, Jim Hoxworth, was gonna fuck 'em up.\"\n\n\"Or, maybe, they didn't know what you were doing. I don't think they know what guns are.\"\n\n\"And by that, you mean...?\"\n\n\"I mean that they only fight with those weird laser sword things. So far, the only ranged things we've seen them attack with are the big laser cannons.\"\n\n\"And those do practically nothing.\"\n\n\"Yeah, like I said: They burn farmhouses after twenty minutes of non-stop lasering. Their technology in the weapons department...it's...kinda lacking, ain't it?\"\n\n\"I suppose. Is that why we're winning this 'war', if you wanna call it that? Because they dunno what they're up against?\"\n\n\"My basic thoughts on it, yeah.\"\n\n\"Pah. Well, let's be honest: They lifted the Gun Restriction Act pretty quick, didn't they?\"\n\n\"Crime's gone down as well. Maybe because you're wandering about with a sodding forty four magnum strapped to your leg.\"\n\n\"Yeah. You'd hate to be one of those alien wankers, seeing me coming around a corner.\"\n\n\"Yes, I'd be too busy laughing my arse off at you to fight back.\"", "It was said, The Collective would never taste defeat. We thought ourselves the apex predator of the universe. \n\nAs a result of reverse engineering the trajectory of a small unmanned craft 20 cycles past, our probes had located several planets and moons ripe for harvesting in the Sol system. As we had countless times before since the ascension to the stars, we moved to establish a mining outpost on a world devoid of lower life forms. We choose the second planet. It gave us a comfortable place, devoid of the atmospheric poisons on the third planet and the so called primitive life forms able to breathe them in. A place to replenish our resources before moving on to the mineral rich third planet. Successful conquest was assured. Or so we thought.\n\nWe moved our fleet to orbit the third planet. We used the knowledge gleaned from the gold disc we plucked from the probe to transmit a message over every wireless signal we observed they could interpret. In an effort to speed up our harvest, we advised them that we would only eradicate the populations that were in the way of our harvest. Simply put, do not interfere and we would not cleanse the planet. Their first assault was dozens of primitive Thermonuclear warheads strapped to inconceivable contraptions burning volatile liquids in a reaction with the poisonous oxygen. A thermomagnetic field rendered the warheads useless but we had no way to stop the kinetic force of the weapons. Two of our harvesters were lost. We stopped congratulating ourselves.\n\nWe sent our ground troops to secure our lost craft to protect our technology from being acquired by these primitives. Our vastly superior technology was in fact no match for what we have learned they call firearms. The projectiles tore through our armors exposing our troops to deadly amounts of oxygen. Then we discovered the grim truth. The projectiles almost universally contain lead. None of our soldier survived the exposure. \n\nWe thought them primitive. They proved adaptable and resourceful. Their simplicity was their strength. All of our vaunted technology proved no reliable way to disable them. They've begun to reverse engineer propulsion systems recovered from our lost vessels. If they are able to shake off the yoke of their terrestrial existence, I fear they will seek revenge. I urge you, make peace, or find a way to protect our people from the poison. \n\nThe truth is, if you do not, we may not survive our first defeat. ", "Yupar examined the corpses of his men all lined up along the ground, eyes closed and arms by their sides. Dried blue blood coagulated in patches where their skin opened up, sometimes at the waist, sometimes at the thigh of one of their four legs, sometimes in the head, and sometimes invisible – until you flipped the bodies around. \n\n“Seventeen… eighteen… nineteen… this is too many”, Yupar thought aloud. “On every single planet we’ve been to, we’ve never lost so many in a day – or even in a whole gyar.” (A gyar is about 45 human days)\n\n“So what’s the problem?” Yupar asked his lieutenant, a squat, Khine who hopped around on three legs, having lost one in battle (or rather, after, as one of the women he met at a brothel caught him by surprise).\n\n“The people here – they seem to have something we don’t, and something we’ve never seen before,” replied Lin, his voice shaking in the presence of his mentor, superior and lord. “They have these devices – these, these things that can hit us from far away. There’s just a little burst and a loud noise, and the next thing you know, one of our Khine is lying face down, blood squirting out of a hole in his body as he tells us to tell his mother he loves her.”\n\n“What?” exclaimed Yupar, shocked. “The Khine are the undisputed masters of the universe. For millennia we have gone to distant worlds, colonised them and showed them the correct way of life. How can it be that this mere stripling of a civilisation, ugly and poor can defeat us in battle?”\n\n“I can explain that, sir,” said a young, ambitious scientist, looking particularly academic with spectacles drooped unevenly over all of his eyes. “These people, humans as they like to call themselves, have an unfair advantage over us.”\n\n“What’s that?” said Yupar, curious to know what could stop his God-sent mission.\n\n“Experience. According to one of the humans I captured, they’ve developed these things – guns they call them – along with thousands of other weapons over generations of combat.”\n\n“But who have they been fighting? I thought we were the first civilised species to reach this planet.”\n\n“Yes, we are, but you see – they’ve been fighting each other. For years, they’ve been killing, maiming, hurting each other, trying to get better than one another at it. Why? I’ve been trying to get my hostage to tell me, but all she says is that they do it for things: wealth, land, power – but I think she’s lying. Not even humans are barbaric enough to kill each other over such frivolities.”\n\n“You – you mean these people kill each other?” Yupar exclaimed incredulously.\n“It would appear to be that way,” replied Ong the young scientist, adjusting his glasses as he spoke.\n\nYupar turned around and walked a few steps in silence. He looked out of the front window of his ship, at the cloudy blue planet before him, spinning slowly. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, as though he were trying to contain nausea.\n\n“Let’s turn around,” he said, with a quiet conviction in his voice.\n\n“B-but the mission,” fumbled Lin, “What about all these Khine who died, what about bringing the word of God to these people?”\n\n“I think there’s no point,” Yupar stated as the blue planet disappeared out of view through the large window at the ship’s nose. “Not even God can save these people.”\n", "I am loathe to admit it, but you were correct.\n\nI thought this coalition needed to be immediate and now, not just for the sake of CNN. We have enough disagreements where we live I knew this would join us together. I KNEW that we needed to be one to fight them off. They came from all around us, found our marble of life, and declared this insane war. I thought maybe their olive branch was discarded by those... less enthused. So I discarded the idea of fighting them off as nation and looked to the world as support. After all, different as we may be we are family and this opportunity to stand together results in a period political scientists have been dreaming about before the dawn of political power. Of course whatever country had first contact would take advantage and rule the world. But these aliens... they arrived with sticks. These 'light sabers' only increased the effectiveness of our rounds, melting them into molten slag that does more than we hoped for. We hope to understand how they control plasma, their interstellar drives. But I need to apologize for accusing you of ruining our chances of peace. You had no play, and your interplanet intel was correct. Your estimates of forces that humans needed to stand up were more correct, if skewed based on your poor training methods.\n\nAnd with that, they hardly needed a division. They hardly needed attention really, I have put down cults that fought back harder. I back your \"Empire\" and I look forward to spreading humanism.\n\nU.S.A.", "Action report: Sol 3\n\nThe combination of a self-preservation instinct and absolute disregard for safety is strange. One that Humanity seems to posses in abundance. The seeming contradiction has allowed them to overcome our warriors. As so many species do they desire to live and propagate. Unlike other species, their empathy doesn't include the whole of their race. Instead they have survived by sacrificing parts of themselves from limbs to whole cultures. Fighting viciously against their own kin. They use explosives on a daily basis. It moves their vehicles, drives their industry, and worse of all: powers their weaponry.\n\nThe sheer amount of space junk in their orbit should have been our first warning. Many of our ships were forced to hold back and put full power into navigation deflectors. When the first troop carriers landed to disgorge the armies, they came forward hoping for diplomacy. I laughed at the presence of yet another pacifist society. \n\nWe should have paused to analyze their history and culture more closely. The purge began according to protocol. Stellar reflectors began burning the population centers as the planet-side forces moved to seize the key resources. Initial Human loses were huge, immediate, and within projections. The subalterns were disturbed though. Our own casualties were much higher than expected. \n\nOh our photon beams were plenty effective, and the Humans had some primitive lasers of their own. Yet field reports of something else flashing from human positions was noted. Bodies riddled with shrapnel, burns began to flood the infirmaries. Their armor was PIERCED, and reflective panels shattered. Rather than bother with the higher mysteries the Humans had instead mastered the most basic force of all: kinetics. \n\nAnalysis revealed they were using explosive chemicals to propel pointed metal lumps. At larger scales they used magnetism. The human obsession with fire was disturbing. Suddenly the vast carbon emissions in the atmosphere made all too much sense. Then I saw them. Erupting from hidden holes and bases was a wave of orbital automatons. Riding on plumes of ignited volatiles. We have fought drones before and indeed we were fighting air drones on the planet. \n\nWith a grin I prepared the fleet for the slow moving boost vehicles before their payloads of fighters could be released. They were not fighter-craft, but fissile weapons of compacted uranium and plutonium. Truly strange that creatures composed mostly of water could wield fire with such efficiency. The Humans sacrificed their own global satellite network, which was unshielded mind you. Dozens of the devices emerged from each vehicle and slammed into our ships. \n\nThe Fleet was eradicated, the remaining ships were irradiated to dangerous levels. The armies were requesting retreat in the face of increasing resistance. I hadn't the ships to grant their pleas. More weapons chased us out of orbit as we fled the irradiated zone. Finally we were clear. I ordered all personal to self-annihilate to prevent capture, and fled. My life is in your hands my liege for I am disgraced.\n\n-Kadask, Grand Marshall of the Crusade. ", "Their stupidity was our downfall. Us, who have conquered systems across the length and breadth of the entire galaxy, who thought ourselves essentially immortal, have suffered humiliating defeat at the hands of barely evolved simians.\n\nOur weapons were useless. We had created them to destroy intelligent life by projecting psychic energy of such power and intensity that the mind of the target cannot help but be obliterated after even a minimal amount of exposure. We have found ways to shield ourselves from these projections, and therefore have never tasted defeat in over twice the length of time that humans have existed as a species. The humans, however, with minds so rudimentary they could hardly be called minds at all, were unable to absorb any of the psychic energy and were unaffected. We were screaming at creatures unable to hear us.\n\nThen, the first of us died. We had never experienced physical death before, those before us who felt they had lived too long would simply choose to live no longer. As a species, when he feel it is time to die we simply cease to think, and simply cease to live. It is impossible to describe the barbarism of the human weapons, the uncivilised nature of the firearm. Our bodies were destroyed by a torrent of metal and our ships were decommisioned by explosives. We quickly realised our mistake and made our retreat, leaving many of our number to die on that awful planet. We licked our wounds, and told those at home of the brutal, despicable apes that live on Earth. We told them about the horrors of that planet and the pain of physical weaponry. We told of the troops and ships we were forced to leave behind.\n\nWe never went back, but we observe Earth continuously and have a new reason to fear. The humans have been exploring the ruins of our army, tinkering with our half destroyed ships. We have recently seen one of their own design leave the surface of the planet, and we are sure that once they have mastered travelling at superluminal speeds they wil come for their revenge. We have tried to find a way to create physical weaponry to rival theirs, but so far our efforts have proven fruitless. The basic materials required for what the humans refer to as 'gunpowder' are scarce on our planet, and we are desperately searching for an alternative.\n\nThe humans are coming, and we must be ready to fight them on their own terms.", "For millennia, we have traversed the psyspace. Our worldcraft has carried us far and wide, maneuvering on aether trails and omens, casting the mindweb further and further. And each planet the mindweb fell upon granted us new puppets to drain, new fodder for the aether engines. We would hover above innumerable planets, rich in life force and biomass, full of sentient myriads, and we would let fall a dark rain of mindbugs that would burrow through hide, scales, fur, minerals, palaces, dirt huts, bone, sinew, organs and find, find, find the sweet trails of psychic energy. And once again, as always, they would suck and rend and tear and bring their ghastly spoils to the aether core. And we would fly again; leaving another world behind to restart the slow cycle of sentience, beginning anew from pools of microorganisms the slow crawl out of the slime.\n\nBut now, we are lost. Our engines are cold. The omens show only darkness and lifeless void. No energy with which to ride the blessed aether winds. The psyspace no longer home, but hidden behind a translucent veil that we cannot pull aside. And all because of this tiny backwards planet. As we let the mindbugs fall, as they realized, slowly, what was happening, they did something we could never have predicted. With the help of special devices, small, controlled explosive things, they sacrificed themselves. Individually, in families, in communities, nations, by the millions. Tearful, agonizing, with military precision, they brought their guns upon themselves. All their psyforce located in tiny skulls, they blew them off. Bug after bug wiped out with metal slugs. The flows of energy abated as they washed their planet with their blood, their brains, their tears, a metal rain of their own making drowning them. They beat us. We are lost now, only darkness awaits as the final aether anchor of our worldcraft comes loose, leaving us to drift into darkness where the daemons await. ", " We thought we could beat them, take their land, crush them. They are such a primitive world. They seemed so pitiful and small, barely having masters the art communication, so far from taking the first steps into space, children compared to us.\n \n But there was one thing, one small thing we never expected, an ability we never counted on. These people, these creatures, the Terran's, are monsters. They can't be captured, they can't be made to work, their conquest is pointless, they're too dangerous. \n\n I recommend an immediate and complete withdrawal from Terran space. The ground troops are getting slaughtered. We have but two choices.\nWe must leave, evacuate Terran space and never return, leave a satellite transmitting a warning to others.\nOr we must destroy the planet completely.\n\n How do you fight a people, a creature that can make fire out of nothing? We didn't know. We took them, their leaders, tried to lock them away, but they burned, their hands, their arms catching flame and spreading it to everything around them.\n\n They must be eliminated.", "Galactic Year 7193\n\nThe invasion of Earth has gone far different from our expectations, my lord. This does not mean that we are winning, it is the opposite, and I recommend that you call the Earth's leaders for a treaty. When we caught and dissected the dominant species on that planet, the Humans, and compared them to the other specimens, we were truly baffled at how they became the dominant species. We assumed that they were merely lucky to survive due to a past war between all the other notable species. The only notable things we found that they had comparatively higher cognitive activity alongside endurance capable of adapting to several environments. The muscles of the humans were abnormally low in comparison to their closest relatives, which include the chimpanzees and ape specimens we found, which contain 99% genetic similarity. We deemed the humans to be easy prey that were merely lucky in attaining dominance. We were wrong. The humans, with sheer coincidence or madness, have successfully created a weapon capable of rivaling weapons costing several galactic years worth of budget at a fraction of the cost. When we invaded, they managed to utilize a propulsion system to launch several explosive weapons at our ships, taking down 39% of our fleet before we set foot. As soon as we landed was when the slaughter began. As you know, our species has been the pinnacle of weaponry, utilizing the finest alloys and plasma weaponry ever discovered in addition to the camouflage technology that allowed us to strike without being seen. Meanwhile, the humans were still working on refining alloys that couldn't possible stand against ours, yet they found a way to utilize the elements naturally found on their planet. The humans attained propulsion in a matter far different from our use of electromagnetic forces. They instead use different particles and ignite them to create explosions to propel their spacecrafts and weaponry. Their weaponry utilizes mixture known as \"gunpowder\" that gave the humans a cheap and effective way to propel their alloys at speeds capable of puncturing our armors with ease. When we attempted to use our cloaking technology and sneak up to them, they called in what they called an \"Airstrike\" and showered our men with flames that couldn't go out. I saw many of our soldiers perish screaming in agony before dying while others chose to end themselves. At the cost of 72% of our men, we have secured a base camp, but we cannot hold out much longer. I recommend that we surrender now, before they begin to retaliate, because as we speak they have found our communication devices and plan to create an alliance with our conquered planets.", "There is honor in blood.\n\nFor seven hundred years my ancestors have fought and bled across the entire galaxy. My forespawner bravely freed an entire army of Abruthzintians of their pathetic lives before laying me in the pools of their blue fluids. \n\nI was born of vengeance. I was born of rage, and hate, and most of all, blood. \nWhen one brings down blade to flesh, and there is the telltale jettison of life fluids it is a most honorable thing. Since spawnlinghood I have been trained in the ways to properly hold and wield a blade and spear. One of my first acts of speech was to condemn my forespawner’s prisoners to execution. The look they gave was not one I soon forgot, the deadly Polothians’s insect faces notoriously incapable of showing emotion streaked with sadness as they saw their brood brothers beheaded before their eyes. \n\nIn my seventy spins of Ilidathianus I have seen the fall and subsequent enslavement of over thirty worlds. Each leading to a growing host of proud, bloodthirsty armies from all corners of the galaxy under my command. I forged my blades in the volcanic fires of Equturius, and cooled the blade in the combined blood of a hundred races. \n\nWe Ilidathians hold blood in highest regard. Upon contact with new races, we send immediately our emissary of war to slay himself upon their soil. This is well known. The emissary comes with the design of our superior blades, so that we may fight as equals. Even races we have not defeated respect our authority, by sheer power of might and will. We have known races to sacrifice millions to us in libation, begging to join our grand hegemony of violence. To be bested and enslaved by Illidathianus is perhaps the highest honor. Thousands of worlds host our colors, blue and red, boasting the tranquility and violence of warfare. \n\nOur armies span millions, all wielding the blades of Illida and armors of Thia. We have never been bested. We pride ourselves in our strength. We never believed there to be another way. \n\nSo when the scouts found the small blue orb, spinning lonely in the Sol system, we were surprised. None had visited the system before, thinking it of little worth, not boasting excessive mineral resources and until now, seemingly no intelligent life. \n\nYet we were wrong. In so many things. \n\nOur Polothian slave scouts found the planet again after ninety thousand spins when trying to refuel their craft on the Sol star. At first we watched, and saw as the inhabitants “Humans” as they are known in this, their tongue went about their lives under hundreds of different banners. They were divided. They had no outward defenses that they wore, often carrying little more than cloth upon their backs. They held their skin on the outside, easy to slash and cut away. \n\nWhen our emissary of war was sent, they did not understand what it meant. \nWhen he slew himself upon their soil, his thick maroon blood blessing their planet for warfare they took it as an offense, and tried to contact our fleet, which hovered just near their moon. \n\nSo when our first battalion landed in the great metal ships we had built, it was simple. At first we cut them down like chattel, the combined might of a thousand races bearing down upon them. \n\nThat was when it happened. They came in legions. Once divided, the Humans stood as one against an enemy comprised of half the galaxy. \n\nThey did not fight with the honorable blades to whose design we had entrusted them. They instead used a device unknown to us. It was not unlike what we may consider a boltbow, but it fired rapidly, spewing fire into us, cutting us down like blood worms in the sand. You could not see what it fired. We cut open an afflicted slave to find small metal pieces in him, which had punctured his armor and skin. \n\nSoon our ships could not even land. They fired upon us with an upwards hail of fire, blasting our ships to bits. Before our soldiers, trained for decades could even grace the battlefield they were cut down. \n\nIt did not take long for them to perfect the warp travel technology they recovered from our descending ships. They used this to send their own men out, using our star charts to crush planets beneath heel. \n\nThe humans do not take slaves. They do not build an army that would boast a thousand worlds. Everywhere they go, they take with them only death. As I stand upon the sands of Ilidathianus, I know they will soon be littered with the corpses of my people. No future in servitude so that we may fight again, only complete obliteration. \n\nThere is honor in blood. There is no true blood in “guns.” \n\nWe will fall before we forsake our honor. \n", "We are the Kal’te’nan, those who conquer. We are counted among the greatest warriors in the universe. We’ve conquered and subjugated thousands of civilizations across the galaxy. Each one has taught us new ways to kill and destroy our enemies. From the concentrated fire of c-beams to the wide scale destruction of the dark matter arrays we’ve mastered and learned to counter every weapon type known to the Risen civilizations. The Terrans should have been no different. If anything they should have been easier than others. After all the Terrans are a frightfully unimaginative race. Even as they first pierced the FTL barrier to join the Risen their ships and engines still relied almost entirely on fire. Granted, their knowledge of how to harness and control fire far exceeded any other civilization; but still, this was a technology most had abandoned long before their Rise for reasons that should be obvious. That really should have warned us what the Terrans were capable of, but we just saw them as fools for still using such old ways. So we ignored the signs and recklessly declared war. Certain this would be our easiest conquest yet. However we soon learned that this “unimaginative” trend had led them to take the most primitive ideas far beyond what any other race would have considered possible. Their weapons, unlike anything we’ve ever encountered before, tear through our ships like they’re nothing. Even our ground troops, feared throughout the universe, are almost entirely helpless against the “firearms” and “missiles” these Terrans bring.\n\nWe are the Kal’te’nan, those who conquer. We are capable of using and defending against a thousand different instruments of death and destruction. No race has ever come close to being a match for us. But these Terrans have taken an idea so primitive, so backward, that we never even considered it worthy of the slightest attention or care, and are using it to destroy us. And that is the ultimate humiliation. We are being beaten by a race that has perfected how to throw rocks." ]	13
	[WP] You live in a barren world that is suffering through a drought. There is one large lake, but the dictatorial government allows no one to access it. You are the leader of the rebellion.	[ "Mathala and his rugged band of rebels had the gleaming waters of life in their sights. They stood mere miles away from it. It seemed so close within their grasp that nothing could stop them. He looked around his group of insurgents to find the faces of those who were desperation and distress. The journey they made towards the last great lake of Zan'andir took them over a month. They had to drink the blood of those who had fallen or risk dying themselves. Mathala's dry and chapped lips quiver at the sight of of the lake. Their salvation was at hand. \n\nHowever what stood beyond them and the water were several armed guards dressed in black uniform. They had batons with them and some were wielding firearms. They had two trucks with machine guns bolted on their backs. The two sides faced each other under the unbearable midday. The heat was phenomenal. \n\n\"Surrender now and leave the area or face the consequences.\" A loudspeaker from the other side warned the rebels. \n\nNone of the rebels moved an inch. Mathala didn't even notice the warning. He kept his eyes on the water. It was all that he could think of. The guards fired off warning rounds near their feet. They still didn't move. Mathala knew that if they left, they would have been dead anyways. This was their last hope for survival. \n\n\"We repeat. Remove yourself from the premises or we will use force.\" They warned them again. There was still no response from the rebels. The angry mob that faced the armed guards were three times their size and were in such a sheer state of desperation that nothing would hold them back from the lake. \n\n\"Finish it!\" One of the women behind the armed mob yelled. She held her dying child in her arms. The young girl looked so frail, so close to death that she could have been gone any moment. The women began to wail. Mathala couldn't take anymore of their plight. He raised his hand towards the sky and pointed them towards the guards. \n\n\"Take the drink brothers!\" Mathala shouted. The battle cry had began. A furious horde thundered down upon the guards carrying makeshift weapons. The guards had no choice, they began to pelt the advancing rabble with lead. \n\nOne by one, the throng fell as the guards opened fire on them. Mathala witnessed his brothers fall as they were ripped apart by a wall of bullets. However the rebels made it towards the guards position were the fighting became more ruthless. Knives, spears, daggers, stones and their bare fist was used against the guards. The black uniformed enforcers tried to regain some sort of order amongst their ranks as the wave of rebels. It was a nightmare were blood and bone was laid bare. The bodies from both groups had piled on top of one another. Mathala stabbed two guards in the head with a simple sharpened stick as his fellow rebels rampaged all across him. It was amazing what the adrenaline kick of fear and anger could do to man who was close to dying. However Mathala was shot in the shoulder by another of the guards before he was finished off by another rebel. \n\nSome of his brethren tried to assist him but he urged them to go forth towards the water. They didn't and they help him stumble towards the shore. He saw the women and their children running towards the water. It was a magical sight for Mathala to see. They had prospered against the odds. They were victorious. Mathala felt a great sensation of relief. He held his arms towards the midday sun and yelled his heart out. He began sobbing right then and there. \n\nImmediately though, he felt something was wrong. He turned his attention towards his comrades drinking the water. They were gagging. Some had already began to vomit. He saw a couple of women convulsing on the shore. He saw a child foaming at the mouth. He didn't know what was happening. He was frightened and forzen with horror. \n\n\"You're an idiot.\" One of the guards said behind him, he was barely alive and he had a spear gone through his stomach. \"The water was... the water was tainted. That was why we didn't allow anybody to drink here. You're... you're people are dead because of you.\" \n\nMathala felt his heart sank. He couldn't accept what was happening. He fell towards the water, too weak and too broken to get up. ", "I ran my tongue across my dry lips. My head and heart were pounding. They never gave enough water, never enough to get rid of the headaches. The only ones that got enough were the doctors, the soldiers, the politicians... The elite. The rest of us are left behind with two cups a day. The hot sun beat down on me, drying my skin to leather.\n\nThe vehicle halted. I smiled at my trusted circle, turning and staring at the gate before me.\n\"Here, Arya, you get first drink! Leader of the new free world!\" Cais patted my back, grinning wide with that charming smile of his.\n\nI pressed the button, and the door swung open.\nI walked to the edge, kneeling and staring over the vast stretch. Cais stumbled down behind me, and a slow wail came from him. A tear ran down my cheek.\n\nThis was no lake. This was a puddle. This was a great hole in the ground, which was filled more with the new government's hopes than water. I turned my head to Cais, then rolled onto my rear and stared out at the people with the vehicle I had come in. I made the hardest decision I have ever made.\n\"Close the gate. Announce water rations.\"" ]	2
	[WP] From the moment you are born, an inscription on your arm tells you how long you have left to live. Your inscription says you still have 60 years to live, but it suddenly changes to just 10 mins. What did you do?	[ "I flick what's left of my clove cigarette out into the night air. All I really process is a red ember cycloiding twice and extinguishing into the liquid filled depression. The liquid occupies a crudely distorted hemisphere at a local, gravitational field, potential energy minimum.\n\nI stare down into the dragon's maw and try to understand how it so quickly came to this. I work with numbers, theories, blackboards, chalk, and sometimes computers, but never this. My eyes trace down the gracefully manufactured tail, past the faux-wood textured handle, the bloodied, chalky hands, and onto where the moonlight is turning my hair silver, and where faintly glowing red digits indicate that the time we were meant to spend together has been reduced by several orders of magnitude.\n\nFor the last time, I look past the ill-fated appendages back into the lifeless hemisphere. Nine minutes ago that hemisphere was a beautiful woman with dark curly hair, a crooked nose, a devilish sense of humor, and a brilliant mind. All that was her was safely anchored to the moonlit Earth by the same gentle force which is now slowly pulling the liquid towards equilibrium. Then followed the savages of war, and the arm which was engaged in waving goodbye and softly displaying 60 units was re-employed to guard against shrapnel and inform me that I would choose to only engage in a small fraction of the time I had been previously allotted.\n\nThe final thought gnawing away at the grey sinews which seated my mind are on the ethics of that NASA timer in my arm. What if by some miracle of improbabilities it now displayed, \"You must save them for her,\" instead of, \"3, 2, 1,\" after which all I have time to further understand is brimstone, fire, and blinding light.", "\"What did you do, man?\" My concerned friend asks.\n\nI pale. \"I...um...\"\n\n\"Spit it out!\"\n\nI sighed and took a deep breath before saying, \"I wandered into a group of girls in my school and...I...\"\n\nMy friend gasps. \"No!\"\n\nI nod sadly. \"I insulted Taylor Swift. They are coming for me in...\"\n\nI checked my arm. \"Nine minutes, now.\"\n\nMy friend waves goodbye to me sadly as we notice a mob of girls heading around the corner.\n\nToday was my last day alive, and I was going to make it count. ", "A blast of air flutters the hair around his ear, and John purses his lips but otherwise ignores the mans agitated sigh, despite the fact that the guy is way too close to be comfortable. Still, the unmoving line is an annoyance, and John shifts from foot to foot, glaring down the chute. Does it really take this long for people to find their seats? It's one long tube, there's no left or right turns that can confuse people. \n\nSuddenly there's a rush forward as the stewardess allows another handful of people onto the plane, and John picks up his hand luggage with a sigh, echoing that of his new best friend. The guys idea of personal space is really skewed. \n\nThe stewardess, a pretty lady in her mid twenties smiles through her pink lipstick, stress showing in the creases of her eyes as she ushers them through and John glances down at this ticket. Seat 32 A, a window seat. So much for leg room. The chairs are so close together Johns not sure he'll fit all six feet of him in at all. Still, he finds his seat in no time at all, even after having to awkwardly press against a middle aged woman's behind to do so. \n\nHe hefts the luggage into the overhead carrier, slamming it shut, catching the tattooed inscription on his arm. The script is a comforting reminder almost, something he's had since he was born, and he disregards it almost completely before looking again. \n\nThe familiar lines have changed, shifted despite never doing so before. A rush of ice plummets through his stomach as he digests the words, eyes scanning the words over and over again. It's not possible. Sixty years. He had sixty years just hours ago. \n\nYet here it is, staring up at him. Ten minutes. \n\nTen minutes. \n\nHow?\n\nMouth dry, he glances around the plane, unable to comprehend anything beyond his imminent death. In the periphery of his mind he acknowledges the sounds of a baby crying, the bustle of people trying to ease past him. But nothing's computing. Like a knife, severing the senses to his brain. \n\nIt only lasts for a few seconds before he's spurred into action by a fear unknown to him before, a vice on his chest as he rushes to the exit, pushing people out of the way. \n\n\"We need to get off!\"\n\nThe stewardess from before glances up, body curved to prevent any more people getting on and she rolls her eyes, a smile still in place, \"Sir, please take your-\"\n\n\"No!\" He hisses, jabbing his arm, \"We have to get off right now! We're all gonna die.\"\n\nThis causes a reaction. Multiple people look his way, eyes widening as a hush descends on the group. The lady presses her lips together, \"Ladies and Gentlemen I can assure you-\"\n\n\"Did he say we're gonna die?\"\n\nMurmurs rise in volume as people stand and still John wrestles his way to the front, fighting the urgency demanding he push the skinny bitch out of the way and make a run for it. \n\n\"I can assure you all that you are perfectly safe!\"\n\n\"No! No you're not!\" John spits, turning and raising his arm, \"This said I had sixty years left a moment ago, and it jumped to ten minutes when I boarded this plane.\"\n\nAghast, the people watch as the ink wriggles on his skin, like a timer counting down. Six minutes, forty seconds left. \n\n\"That's just an illusion people, please sit down we have a strict schedule and-\"\n\n\"Hell no!\" One of the families shouts, the father barreling his way out of the seat, \"We want out, tattoos don't move girl, and I'd rather be safe then sorry.\"\n\nFew agree, some dismissing him with mutterings of the word 'crazy' thrown here and there. Still, the stewardess stiffens, eyeing another one of her colleagues who shrugs in reply. Moving out of the way, the stewardess motions for them to leave. \n\n\"I must warn you however, once you leave you will not be permitted back on.\"\n\nJohn shrugs, muscling his way out and the family and a few others follow, hand luggage in tow but John barely acknowledges the fact that his is still on the plane. Instead he runs down the chute connecting the airport to the plane, the family and the few others following him. Another argument follows but they're allowed back into the waiting area, and they watch as the plane fills seconds later and begins to taxi it's way down the run way. \n\nThe three minutes left on his arm seems to shiver, before the letters change to the original sixty years and John releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. Together they watch the plane begin its ascent into the sky, and the huge man, the family man who joined his escape folds his arms, \"You sure you weren't lying boy, my family paid good money to board that train and you kicked up a fuss back there, enough so to scare my wife silly. If this plane makes it fine we-\"\n\nAn explosion rocks them all to their core, cutting off the big guys rant as the plane burns from within, raining down from the sky, barely off the Tarmac. \n\nNothing is said as they watch the deaths of so many people, ignoring the rush of security personnel and staff as they try to assimilate what's going on. Despite escaping, John only feels a deep pang in his chest, watching the plane crumble to the ground. Guilt, maybe? He doesn't know, but the silence around him mimics his own. " ]	3
	[WP] Go outside for ten minutes. Describe what's there in vivid detail.	[ "The door creaked open at my touch. I really ought to oil it. I stepped out onto the stoop a little after noon. I squinted into the brightness. The wind rustled the trees, cardinals sang, in the distance I could hear some crows laughing to one another. \nI inhaled deeply, the smell of cut grass and the promise of rain in the air. It was chilly out today and without a jacket goosebumps threatened my arms. The warmth of the sun on my bare flesh kept me from shivering. \nA grey squirrel ran up my driveway, pausing on the pavement to look at me. I guess he decided I wasn't a threat and he went about his business. \nA cloud wandered in front of the sun and I shivered in spite of myself. Maybe it'd be warmer tomorrow. I turned back to my creaky door and went inside. ", "I stepped out of the warm main entrance of the large corporate building into a crisp New England summer's day underneath a spotless azure sky. The scent of artificial cleaner is replaced by a smell of pure clean only the outdoors can provide and I breath it in deeply just before ruining it by lighting up a cigarette. I stand there allowing the sweat to drift away from my body as a quick cold gust sweeps me almost to the ground. What was once light green of the trees around me is now a deep, dark sage as they appeared to have grown full of leaves almost overnight. The banner atop the flagpole waves furiously in the wind, it's metal fasteners ringing the entirety of the pole like a tuning fork and it's shadow dances in front of me. White-throated sparrows quietly sing \"Old Tom Peabody peabody peabody\" in the rhododendrons to my right while a few younger finches play a game of tag throughout them. The chickadees sing in the distance, their songs getting closer and closer in repetition as love, apparently, is in the air. As chill as the air is, standing in the sun for too long causes me to begin sweating once more, so I remain in the shade.\n\nThe occasional cars on the road in front of me screech to a halt as they see the \"END PAVEMENT\" sign and slowly and cautiously proceed with a \"thu-thunk\" onto the now-dirt road, even the SUVs and trucks. I laugh at their surprise everytime.", "I woke up. I saw the sun creeping through the blinds. It wasn't often that I get a chance to sleep in like this. \n\nI looked around the room. The tall person who was sharing that room was finally awake, reacting to that morning light as well.\n\nWe both acknowledged each other. The tall man with a smile, me with a kiss. \n\nI make my way down the stairs and outside first. An old familiar pain creeped up my back legs and up my back. I used to run down these things, but now I take them one by one at a slow pace. \n\nI start to worry I'm slowing down the tall person behind me. But as I look around I see him standing there, smiling, and I get reassured as I carry on slowly like before. \n\nThe tall man opens the door for me. We finally speak for the first time. I don't quite hear what he says to me but I say thanks as I walk onto the patio. \n\nI remember when the patio was built. It was my first summer in the house. I'd never seen anything constructed before. The four men showed up and I sat at the window watching them build it the entire time.\n\n It was so beautiful and foreign, so new to me at first. Everything was young and your feet felt so welcomed on the smooth surface. Now it was weathered and cracking in places, it almost hurt to step on it with bare feet sometimes. It'd lost its colour years ago, and if you stepped in the wrong spot it would creek. \n\nWe headed to the end of the patio where the sun was just beginning to touch. I lay down, he sat on the edge hanging his legs off it. I nudge myself up against him and he places his hand on my side. \n\nThe tall man is crying again. I don't dare ask what about I don't want to make it worse, so I move my head over and give him a kiss on his hand. \n\nWe take the sun in and just sat there in silence. The tall man and I. He stroked my chest and moved his fingers through my hair for what felt like hours. He would say things softly ever so often. I couldn't really get what he was saying as I was drifting in and out of sleep. He never stopped touching me, or talking to me softly. But he was crying on and off the whole time. \n\nGetting up from this position hurts, I shouldn't have laid down for so long. I groan and let a slight shriek out as I get up my, bones screaming at me. The tall man grabs me gently and helps me to my feet. We walked into house, he's still crying as we walked in the house. I still don't ask him what's wrong. \n\nI've seen the tall man cry before, but never like this. I'll just do what I've done for years, and just be with him for comfort. He always seemed to like that silence. \n\nThe tall man walks over to the door. He puts my collar on, then my leash. As he gets down to eye level with me I can see the pain, the love and the sorrow in his eyes. As puts his hands on my face and gives me a kiss and big hug. He doesn't let go for what felt like a hour. I just do what I always do sit here in silence and comfort him. \n\nI secretly hope we aren't going far the last time we went for a long walk the tall man had to carry me home, and it took me 2 days to recover. When I heard that familiar jingle as he put the silver things in his pocket, I let out a sigh of relief. I always enjoyed being in the vehicle with the wind in my face. \n\nHe put the silver things back and sat down, but after a few more seconds came back and grabbed them again. I'm so excited for the ride, but why does he look so sad. Why does he not want to go on this ride. \n\n(Sorry about grammar and spelling. Just had to get something out, and this thread popped up on my feed. And it felt like the place.)", "There would be trees and the sky against it. Its evening with the sunlight still present. The blue that is seen is massive with vapor trails running from or into it. Across the houses are barbed wire gardens and the voices climb against the grey, the steel and the brick. There are hills beyond houses and the smell is of cut flowers in your hand. The details get colder while the evening gets darker. From the neighbors there is cigarette smoke. It coils further into cracks until it weeps outside as rags of smoke. I think they have accents but I'm not sure. It's been a vague ten minutes and a long week. ", "Even sitting in the sun, the day is a little cool when the wind blows. But it's worth it, just to feel it on my skin for a few minutes while the kids are upstairs - not napping, but not screaming either.\n\nThe porch holds on to the echos of the children's play - rocks piled and organized near the step; a small hula-hoop circles itself, a little 'O' of nothing on the planks; push cars plopped akimbo where they stopped for snack. But it's quiet, save for the breeze which tickles the wind-chimes and the new blossoms on the apple tree. A car or two meanders by on the road.\n\nThe leaves on the tree still look new and fragile. The sun seeps through them and they glow, like stained glass. The lawn is wild, with heaps of dandy-lions roaring at the birds. A fat bee bumbles through the pride, landing on each flower. Its so heavy the blossoms wobble as it sips at the nectar, smearing pollen on its head and legs. \n\nSmall, red capped birds peck at the ground, eating bugs or seeds or the leftovers from the kids picnics. They are far too trusting, considering the murderous leanings of the cat. He mews, and lopes over when he sees me, flopping on the dusty steps and rolling over for a scratch. The birds, seeing him head for higher ground and peep at us from the trees. They won't last long at this rate, he's brought down faster, smarter birds. But for now, he lets me scratch his chin and tries to sit on my lap. But he can never stay for long, since he kneads my legs with needling claws and I have to shove him off, and scritch his ears instead.\n\nThe wind-chimes toll sweetly in the breeze, and I shiver and smile.", "I peer through the curtains and step onto the verandah with some trepidation. The early morning darkness nips at my toes, chilled with the puddles of last night's rains. The moonlight shimmers softly upon the marina, silhouetting the bridge over the harbour in the distance. A wind dances through the fingers of the palms. The skies gives the faintest hints of navy and emerald, the rose clouds treading softly on the mauve blanket. Cars whoosh behind me sporadically, in that twilight shift between the club rats and the churchgoers. The rosellas chirp each other awake, and the kookaburras turn their sweet song into cacophony.", "Today is no different from the last. People going about their usual activities while complaining about the rain. I feel different to them and lonely in a way, because when I open the giant glass doors and walk outside, I see a new world. Vivid green and gray cascading clouds covering the sky, giving me a sense of comfort from the tradition vast blue. I see clean air, and smell the organic earth seeping into my senses, igniting my soul. Maybe I love it because it makes me feel different from the rest, or maybe I love it because it reminds me that my surroundings are living, and I no longer have to focus on the man made structures, and my internal conflicts with society. I can completely forget everything and immerse myself in the storm, feeling the warm drops fall to my face, and letting everything go as I become one with earth’s most underrated miracle. ", "Just shy of a meter below me paved asphalt speeds past my feet at about 140 kilometers per hour. The road is uneven, but the almost luxury SUV we ride in makes it feel much smoother. \n\nMy progeny is restless behind me. Seven hours in any vehicle, even this sweet ride, is wearing on him. He talks to the tiny screen in front of him occasionally as Curious George goes on adventure after adventure. He's finally stopped asking \"Are we there yet?\" Since we told him we're almost there.\n\nA gentle, processed, filtered breeze blows on my face. Keeping me cool but no longer comfortable. At this point my skin is feeling oily and dirty. The road food we've eaten has been unsatisfactory sustenance and is clogging my pores. \n\nI'm tired of looking at a tiny screen. I'm tired of riding. I'm tired of feeling greasy. \n\nAre we there yet?", "It seemed God knew exactly how to paint my heart on this this grand canvas of his. Why shouldn't he know, its his job to, his innate ability. Grey puddles, like newspaper stains, bring back the memory of tears long ago cried. The grass, once green and lively, beaten down by violent and unrelenting hail. Even the birds sing a tuneless song as they make their perch on rotting porch wood, doing the damn best they can to stay on. The air, humid, presses down on everything. Like a great hand has closed itself around the world, my world. I think, this is my world, no one seems to see it like me, they don't see the flowers long ago dead. All they see are the flowers that will take their place in the coming weeks, an infinity. Fresh wells spring up in my eyes, as if we didn't have enough water to stagnate. Help.\n", "The laptop clicks as it closes and I sigh with boredom, aimlessly beginning to play with the black-grey, wiry locks of the snaggle-toothed pup curled in my lap. I watch his belly rise and fall a few times, smooth down his fur which can't really make up its mind where it wants to go, then look out the sliding glass door just to the side of me.\n\n Well...I do need a stretch I suppose. \n\nI tap his flank twice, my sign to indicate we are moving, and he instantly jolts his head up to briefly look up at me before hopping down. He has terrible bed head; the fur around his eyes swirl and ruffle around his eyes in a kind of unattractive, furry veil misshaping his entire face. Simultaneously we stretch and yawn together. \n\nStepping sideways from behind the makeshift 'coffee table' I make my way towards our balcony door, my tiny scruffy beast happily trotting along at my heal. Our second, more conventional looking dog is about three times his size with soft, creamy white fur. Just moments before she was dead asleep sprawled out on our couch, but after watching me make my way towards the balcony she leaps towards us using the armrest as her launching pad. The poor frame has been flattened from how often she has done this.\n\nThe balcony doors slide open with a little bit of effort. I have to maneuver through the irritatingly cheap blinds that drag along the carpet, the two overly excited mongrels tangling themselves trying to push through the glass, and the door's track making it obvious of its solid two years of neglect. Once outside, we three are greeted by a rush of cool, rain dampened air. My pups, who couldn't care less on how amazing the weather is, immediately press their heads against the barrier to stare on at the passerby below. I take in a deep breath and am filled with contentment; I love the smells rain brings. The sky is a lovely mix of greys, oranges, and pinks as the late afternoon sun begins to concede to the large, overstuffed clouds rumbling their warnings of an oncoming downpour. \n\nJust below our balcony the parking lot is nearly empty, which seems odd for a Saturday just after work hours. The expanse of asphalt extends past my apartment building, the building to the side, and wraps around a gated patch of vibrant green with an old, drooping solitary tree. It's almost like a large cul-de-sac but with big apartment buildings instead of houses and a twenty by thirty foot yard in the center. A young woman, a student at the nearby college by my guess, hurriedly snatches a flapping green bag from the metal box propped up on the fence. Accompanying her is a tiny ball of beige fur standing with its leash taught and snout directed at us up on the balcony. I can hear the little brat giving a squeaky, albeit probably its best, growl telling my pups who's boss of the dog walk patch. Looking over at them, I am not surprised that both are sat on their haunches simply staring at the little creature most likely wondering why this rodent is so noisy. \n\nIn the time it takes the girl to clean the spot of grass her dog soiled and toss the bag into the bottom of the metal box the sky starts to drizzle and is quickly growing into a thick wave of fat, stinging water droplets. I can almost see the wall of rain barreling towards us. As the girl begins to panic and tug at the leash, her fluffy rat dissolves into a dripping mop of dirt-brown. Finally, she decides to pick it up and jog the opposite direction of us towards the parallel apartment building on the other side. I giggle standing on my inward-set patio, the patio above us providing an overhang.\n\nAs the storm picks up its intensity, I move back to the corner closest to the sliding doors, the dogs pacing just at the edge of where the rain is hitting our floor. The old tree in the dog walk patch wiggles its branches sending leaves lashing and zipping away, but is otherwise immobile in the dark haze. The sound is similar to what one could hear if standing up close to a waterfall: a significant amount of rushing water loudly crashing onto hard surfaces. If someone were standing next to me, I doubt anything under a moderate yell would be heard. The wind, which has also picked up speed, has begun to direct the angle of slicing droplets more diagonal and therefor beginning to pelt us.\n\nI open the door, but have to usher the two dogs back indoors as even the first loud crack of thunder didn't phase their want to be outside in this mess. They shoot past me tackling and nipping at each other too excited in their play to even dry shake. Closing the glass, I look out one more time. The sky was now simply one colossal, blue-black, billowing cloud blocking what would be an afternoon sun. I close the cheap wall-length blinds taking a mental sigh when I notice the two rigid holes at the same level as the door handle. An annoying, and a tad trashy, reminder of choosing house-sitters carefully. \n\nA little put out being forced back indoors, I saunter back over to my chair, lift up the purple lap desk being careful to hold the laptop steady, and plop back down. The lap desk rests on top of my outstretched legs, on my knees. I barely get through my login when I feel a cold wet nudge under my elbow, strong enough to through off my mouse. I lift up my arm to peer down at a dark scruffy face resting on my leg, large brown eyes staring, unblinking, back at me. I pat my opposite leg and he jumps up to resume his napping, as I prepare to type I smooth down the chaotic fur on top of his head.", "A soft, gentle glow emanates from the bulb above my head, calling out to the lost and wandering insects like a beacon near the shore. They come in droves, buzzing and fluttering their erratic shapes towards the warm light. They fly too closely to the source and find themselves disoriented and plummeting with each successive strike against the glass. I step out into the warmth of the spring night, nearing the edge of the lit path. The grass seems darker even in the light as its blades occasionally wiggle with signs of night life. A symphony of crickets and toads fill the air with their latest tune as I stare at the dim skies above. The world at night and the world during the day seem so similar, but much has changed.\n\n-142", "The night is warm but I still shiver under the gust of wind. My feet have soaked through to the socks. Doesn't matter that I'm sitting on my porch. It's been raining hard all month. Especially today. It's up to my ankles now, despite living on a hill. Through the open window beside me I hear the weather man's reports. More records broken for wettest month. \n\nSomewhere in the distance I can still hear the storm sirens. The city is quiet, only a few brave souls willing to risk the rivers we called roads this morning. The constant patter of rain is picking up again. The winds rustle and randomly howl. I drop the butt of my cigarette in the ashcan. I'm rewarded with a slight plop and a short hiss indicating it's definitely out now.\n\nBy some miracle the power is back on. I stand and look out over the shimmering flow of water. The florescent orange color of the street lamps evoke images of a lava in my mind. Memories of a vacation to Hawaii in years past come and go. Happier times back then. With a shake of the head the thoughts disappear. I gingerly step over the sandbags draped across the threshold and go back inside. ", "Melodious chirps reach my ears in a symphony of color. It is sweet until the A/C unit kicks in. The smell of a rain gone by passes by and I feel refreshed. The wind brushing the hair on my arms and rustling the trees. The concrete porch dampened and greened from the moss. A plot of land I am very familiar with, bordered by an aluminum fence. Short grass cut a couple of days ago alive with color. A squirrel moves to hide his cache. The house across the way hasn't had its lawn trimmed. The oaks sway with grace. Cars from the road make a dull rumble. This is my home, I couldn't feel more welcome.", "You know what's outside, right- same damn thing as what's inside, that's what. We can't see anything that's not us. I see the billboard outside, selling tires, and I don't see the billboard, or tires, but instead my father, and his mortality. \n\nLike that cherry red convertible cutting through the wind like a kamikaze Bing cherry - that's a wish that one day I'd be happy, and free, and full of peace.\n\nSo I don't do vivid much. I let my eyes dance, never settling on the expressions in the other drivers' faces, lined with anxiety and sleep deprivation and God knows what else- as they sit and wait in traffic. Because I've seen it all before and decided I don't much like seeing it. \n\nSo the trees- they're green. The tires, black. And my eyes keep dancing beneath a blue sky. \n\nI really should buy some new tires. ", "It was almost chilly outside, or at least it felt that way as I stepped out shitrless onto the deck my father built. I was getting ready to go to the graduation party of a dear friend of mine when I saw this post and wondered.\n\nThe wood has warped and cracked slightly from the rain and snow and wind of the past years, and we never got around to varnishing it. I stepped outside and my dog walked out with me. I call him little pup, but he's the size of my ex. I spend almost half a minute remembering the sweet boy who had my heart. He'll be at this party, and we haven't talked since he broke up with me over spring break. I think I still love him. I can't tell my new girlfriend that, she wouldn't understand and it would just hurt her.\n\nAs I look out on the lawn I mow every few days, I see my father's work clothes, hanging on the railing. He works out in the yard most days, when he has typed on his company's proposal until he can't see. That man never stops working, but I wish he had more time for us. I love him, but I'll enjoy going to college.\n\nI look forward and see where trees had been growing in our yard, between us and the neighbors that way. When my parents bought this house, I was a kid, and didn't see the rotted porch that had to be torn down, the ugly paint job the previous owners had made, or the vined thicket that closed off our yard. I just saw somewhere that wasn't home, where I would be different again.\n\nI look to the right and first I see the awning, made golden by the setting sun. I remember setting up the top of this awning, just a few weeks ago. Every year, we take it down for the winter, and every year, we put it back up for the summer. It's gotten a little moldy, and whenever we get it out, it's insect and spider infested. I remember rain and hail bouncing off that awning a few years ago, on July 4th. I remember memorizing the rips and tears in it one night, as I sat and waited for the suicide prevention hotline to take me off hold.\n\nI look past it and see the sun setting over a house in mourning. The matriarch of the house died a few days ago. My father plays hockey with her son every week, and their dogs like to visit our yard.I remember Halloween and getting candy from the kind grandparents there. I see the sun as it falls towards the horizon, and realize there is at least one person waking up to the sun rising right now. I wonder who that person is, and I wish them well.\n\nFurther to the right is our roof. I've been on that roof, and I love it up there. I always wanted to sit up there some summer day and eat an apple, cold and painfully fresh. The roof has always been hot and a little scary. Difficult to walk on and I'm never there for fun. But I love that roof. I feel free standing on it.\n\nI'm tired and I lay down. Roman walks over and licks my face, like he always does. I think about how so many of my memories here are painful, so I look for the one thing that always cheers me up: my hawk. There is a hawk who visits here from time to time. I've left offerings to this beautiful being, meat in the trees. I like to think my hawk watches over me, and I understand why people have long worshiped the birds of prey. I don't see him today, but I believe my melancholy mood will soon subside.\n\nI stand up and walk inside to type this and get dressed for a party", "The neighborhood writhed in stirring silence. A door closed, the scrape of shoes on concrete, then the neighborhood turns around in bed and covers itself in silence once again. \n\nThe air began to move in a gentle whisper, and the starlings began to twitch and chirp. A car rumbled past. A tree crackled all its leaves. Silence had no choice but to receded to the slow humming of a Saturday morning. \n\nThe day awakened, but it was still sleepy. The overcast sky promised cool temperatures and a slow start to the day. Not even the newly hatched starlings protest the languor. An ambient glow illuminates the world, and Earth's creatures enjoy the peace of a new day. ", "\"You should put her on a gentle lead.\"\n\nIt took a moment to even hear what Larry had said over the shuddering rumble of the A/C unit hanging out of Ricardo's window, but I nodded anyway like I had understood. \"She's not usually like this,\" I answered absently, tugging on Kaylee's leash to keep her close as she tried to drag me down the cracked pavement towards the lazing hill at my left that separated the buildings from the bustle.\n\nLarry's response was lost in his laugh and stumble when he went back upstairs, his footsteps padding softer and softer over the suspended walkway until I heard his door shut. I started walking.\n\nThere had been a lot of apartment complexes over the last three years years, but this one was definitely the nicest. The roofs were gabled and tiled in typical Florida terra cotta, the gutters hugging their soffets and brushing identical Venetian plaster on every building throughout the blocks. Hedges that were almost too well kept lined the two-lane road as it struck a gently curved path from the trash compactor all the way up to the leasing office. In front of the pool it looped into a roundabout and then continued, but we never went that far; that was where the villas were, after all.\n\nA tractor trailer roared past the hill I was walking Kaylee over and we both stopped to watch it for a moment before she started to tug again. I frowned and shook my head. \"Maybe I should get you a gentle lead,\" I sighed, following her pull back towards our unit, \"whatever the hell that is.\"", "The night was dark and empty, the only thing I could hear was the few cars racing by on the highway a few miles away. The trees began to play their ensemble as I quietly crept out of my house, making sure the large wooden door wouldn't squeak an awaken my parents.\n\nI took one step at a time, down the stone stairway onto the brick path. The baige bricks could be seen in great detail, all their cracks, the moss growing over them, everything. Even in the dark moonlight. I looked up, and gazed at the stars. The stars have always been a mystery to me, they never change and their glowing inferno thousands and thousands of miles away can be seen from my backyard.\n\nI collapsed on the soft grass and watched the calm clouds overpass above me. Ever had one of those moments where you look up, and it feels like you're in the middle of a globe staring up at the dome-like fence? At the peak of the dome, it's the darkest. The dark shade seems to expand over time, flooding the rest of the sky. In the middle of the darkest shade, however, it seems to keep getting darker and darker, until the entire sky is unrecognizable. It comes to a point where closing your eyes makes no difference.\n\nI smiled at the thought, closed my eyes, and allowed the trees to deliver their encore." ]	18
	[WP]You are a being that lives in the realm of dreams, your only connection to the real world is interacting with people in their dreams.	[ "He was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. His dreams were always in a golden color scheme, as if sunlight had flooded so deep into his subconscious he knew nothing else but to paint his nightly projections as an apprentice of Klimpt.\n\nThis was contrary to the dreams of others. Some were filled with darkness and pain, and others simply could not dream in color at all. I knew this as a DreamWalker. I had learned the secrets of others this way. I lay witness to their fears, their hopes, and their most nagging desires. Always a silent observer, I made myself an audience member to people's nightly visions. No matter how hard I tried to be a part of these experiences with them, I hadn't yet learned how. I could not call out, be seen, or be felt by anyone I visited. The other walkers told me this would come with time, although none of us had any concept of time any longer. Hopping between dreams of others did not give us any inference of day and night. I had no idea how long I had been this way or what had happened to my loved ones. I suppose they are long gone by now.That was the choice I made when I left them. I hoped they were all right now.\n\nAll I could think about was how much I wanted to touch him. I felt closer to him the more I watched his nightly adventures. He was a traveler in his dreams always climbing a tall mountain, studded with the tallest evergreens, or walking along a beach where the white sands meet the bluest oceans. Never pausing to rest, he had not yet found what he was searching the world for each night. Tonight he was exploring a rolling field, peppered with wildflowers of the brightest colors. I walked my respective distance behind him. I could not stand it any longer. My heart, filling with a warmth I had never known before felt full to the brim, close to running over. \n\n\"I love you!\" I called out to him.\n\nHe turned around and looked at me. ", "Every night, a new world of beauty. I see your raw imagination, I guide your raw consciousness. I walk your dreams with you, my friend. It's weird. Sometimes I watch, sometimes you beckon for me to lead you, I gladly do so. I try to teach you my ways, some of you are learning, you control your dreams. That's good, but you have a long way before being you can match up to me. It's not impossible though, I was human once too. Try to catch up!! On a second thought, maybe not. To be honest, I feel like Atlas, conjuring such magnificence with you, only to lose you forever when you wake up, then doing it again. I face this dilemma all the time: share this gift? Or share this curse? Alas I am not Athena. I would shed a tear, but I find solace in the fact that I will meet another infinitesimally beautiful being soon.\n\nI am a god, please, don't forget me.", "With a familiar, instinctual ping, I felt a new dreamer arrived. Dutifully I stood, grabbed my bags, and slipped on my shoes.\nMy brother, lounging on the ground with his wings lazily splayed, rolled his crimson eyes. \"You still on about this, then?\"\nI nodded and tried very hard not to blush. He shook his head and growled, but it seemed to me rather fond. I wandered across the dark fields towards the dreamer, taking my time. It took dreamers a while to wake up after they arrived. The land of nightmares was a strange place to be, if one was not born there.\nEventually, a building appeared in the mist. It towered above me, an infinite block of discolored brick. It was hazy at first, like a mirage, but by the time I reached the steps it was as solid as the grass beneath my feet. The dreamer was ready, then.\nThe door was locked, but I was not bound by the whims of outsiders, and slipped through it easily. The halls were empty and cold, and I could hear only one sound: feet slapping against the linoleum.\n\"I'm late! Oh god, I'll miss the test!\" \nThe dreamer pelted into view, eyes wide, sweating profusely. He was tall and thin, a young teenage human. Rather than approach, I let him come to me. He was so distracted that he only noticed me when he collided with my chest. His eyes came up to my face, and he cried out.\n\"Jesus Christ!\" He shouted, stumbling backwards. Fear overtook his anxious expression, and shame filled me.\n\"Don't worry,\" I said, \"I just look scary! I'm here to help you!\" I would have smiled, but I'd learned from experience that the fangs put humans off. I held out a clawed hand, and hesitantly, the boy took it. He rose to his feet and dusted himself off.\n\"I, uh, I have to, uh, get to class.\" He mumbled, not looking at my face. \"So, uh...\"\n\"Aren't you forgetting something?\" I said playfully. I reached a hand into my bag and pulled out a pile of cloth. The boy looked down, and his face turned red. He snatched the pants from my claws, tugged them on, and bolted down the hallway, completely forgetting to thank me.", "\"it's all right, this is just how it works, you're growing up,\" I said to my best friend joey, who was weeping softly beside me.\n\n\"Why? Why do I have to go?\" He cried into his folded arms.\n\n\"Well, because the waking world's not ready for you to be like this I guess, so you have to spend more time on that side I guess, so you can take care of your family and stuff.\"\n\nJoey remained steadfast in his tears, showing no signs of letting up.\n\n\"Look,\" I said to him, \"I'm as sad as you are, but I know this is how things need to be, it's happened before you know.\"\n\nHe looked up from his tears, shocked. \"This has happened to you before?\" he asked, looking puzzled. He then shook off the baffled expression and closed his eyes and took a deep breath before calmly opening his eyes and asking with a measured tone,\n\n\"Who are you?\" \n\nI smiled. \"I don't know!\" I said shyly, \"I'm me! Your best-friend!\"\n\nHe bowed his head as a profound silence full upon us.\n\nI broke the quiet, \"it's harder for me you know... You won't even remember me. I\"ll be here, alone, watching you hang out with everyone and grow old and fall in love... And I\"ll just, wait.\"\n\n\"Wait for what?\"\n\n\"Another one like you, who knows how to play with me.\"\n\nA static noise started buzzing around us, \"Your mom's calling,\" I said, \"You need to wake up, bye Joey.\"\n\nHe just smiled at me as he faded away for the last time.", "He had been sitting on the edge of an out-cropping. A slate-coloured, rocky protrusion from the side of a cliff. Below him were a handful of humpback whales, swimming through the air over purple pine trees as if the air itself were made from the depths of the ocean blue. Their eyes were made from white sewing buttons, and made them look somewhat humorous, yet... to the man, there was nothing out of place. Everything seemed natural in this realm, as it always did for each who visited it. \n\n\"We have met before, you and I.\"\n\nThe human dreamer's expression changed from relaxed to confused in a mere moment. He looked over his left shoulder, facing away from the setting sun. This young man looked to the being with amazement; it was draped in robes of slow-falling dust, the colour like the beginning of Twilight. The multi-coloured dust faded from existence before it hit the stone face. \nThere was no hesitating when speaking to the being, because this too felt natural.\nAs if knowing the man was about to ask when they had met, the thing spoke.\n\n\"It was many a year ago. You may not have realized it was me, but I remember you, just as I remember them all. A brave one, you are.\"\n\nHe stood up, unafraid of falling, and faced the being. He could now see that it had no face. If it did, it was covered in the dust that enshrouded its head, constantly hiding its' true identity.\n\nOnce again, it spoke to him. It felt to him as if he should be the one listening, not the one doing the talking. This was the point in the dream when he was meant to be informed... the point in the dream that you remember after you have woken up, and you quietly say to yourself, \"Wow, that was fuckin' neat. I hope I have another dream like that tomorrow.\" Sometimes you even try to fall back asleep to finish it if you were unfortunate enough to have been woken up before it could properly end.\n\n\"Grant, your name is. You were a young human at that time that we met. You were having a dream, one that was send to you by the Terror-Fiend... what humans call a \"Nightmare\". The Nightmare is a gift, but humans do not view it as such.\"\n\nHe spoke without thinking, as if it was scripted. Doesn't it always feel like that?\n\n\"I had many Nightmares. I don't know which one you're talking about. I don't even remember them all.\"\n\nWasn't he going to ask what the hell the being was? This thing looked amazing. The colours of the sand were so vivid; black as night near its' head, dark violet coloured for its' upper chest and shoulders, a royal blue coloured for its' trunk, pink for its' sleeves and midsection, and an orange/yellow colour made up the flowing of sand from there, like a waterfall that would never create a river. The only thing that was NOT made from dust were a pair of hands that protruded from the pink sleeves. The Dream Lord did not worry about maintaining a certain appearance; hygiene was not a factor for this being as it was for humans. It had long fingernails, about three inches in length. They resembled chipped human nails, except for their bleached, semi-transparent appearance. The skin was wrinkled and mole-ridden, with patches of skin in some places that resembled white scales. \n\n\"I was a large snake, devouring your brother before your eyes.\"\n\nGrant remembered, and shivered, but said nothing. It was one of those dreams that you remembered, but it didn't bother you too much as long as you placed something heavy on top of it so that it would never be opened up again. Despite the Time Lord eating his dream-brother, he still did not feel threatened by this being.\n\nIt had a \"dream voice\". You know what I'm talking about. The kind of voice that wasn't even spoken. It was just heard, and you accepted it without question. It was almost as if you were remembering back on the moment you were currently having, like some sort of endless time loop.\n\n\"Would you believe me if I told you that I have visited the dreams of all the humans on this Earth? Every night, I visit the dreams of thousands of your kind. I come in contact with every human at least once before they perish to Death.\"\n\nA shimmer of white sparkles occurs in the air around them, like exploding fireflies. The peaceful noises coming from the whales echoed up and over the cliff edge, giving the scene a beautiful and strange atmosphere. The serenity of their surroundings was untouchable, their meeting unfathomable, and it felt like nothing else but the man, the whales, and the Lord existed. This was romanticized surrealism at its' finest. \n\nMore listening time, now. It was felt, it was known.\n\n\"You'll never see this world as it is now again, mortal Grant. Revel in this beauty, for it will fade like a shout against the wind.\"\n\nA strange sorrow fell over him in that instant. This place is going to change? But... but it was beautiful, peaceful. And this thing here was telling him he'd never see this place the way it was again? ...Would the whales be gone?\n\n\"There will be many visits from the Terror Fiend, mortal Grant. Accept them, and learn from them. Every dream is a lesson, just as this one is.\"\n\nWait, this was a lesson? But how?\nHe voiced the question.\nIf the Dream Lord had a mouth, it would have smiled.\n\n\"All good things fade, mortal Grant. Hold them dear while you can, for when you let go, nothing will be quite as it once was.\"\n\nThere was a sharp SNAP in the air, like an amplified MX Cherry Blue keyboard switch, or a diamond sphere hitting an unbreakable pane of glass. It made him jump.\n\nIt was then that the environment began to crumble around him. Large chunks of rock fell out from the cliff face, with boulders landing on the whales' heads and chests and tails, pinning them and killing them in the graveyard of trees; the purple pines had begun to rot and lose their needles at a rapid rate, creating their own tomb stones. He turned from the being to look at the sun, which was slowly picking up the rotation of its' speed. It had been almost set at the horizon, but In a matter of seconds, it created a day and night cycle like that of a strobe light, making the rings of Saturn envious of the Earth's new display. \n\nHe turned back as the Dream Lord was departing. \nThe colourful dust could be seen in flashes of daylight, flying away into the sky that didn't truly exist. With each passing of the sun, a frame of movement could be seen, like an old picture flip-book, until the last image disappeared into the realm. \n\nThere was no sound anymore. Just daylight, darkness, and dust." ]	5
	[WP] While packing your things for moving into a new place, you come across an old, dusty notebook. The following is written on its front cover : "In case of a reset, please read."	[ "Brian sits down on the edge of his bed, stripped of its sheets and ready to be packed up into the moving truck. He runs his hand across the cover of a notebook, and the back of his neck tingles just a little bit. Something about it feels familiar but he can't place why. As far as he can remember, he has never seen the notebook before and was shocked to find it slid between the bed frame and the box matress.\n\n\"In case of a reset...please read?\" It's written in his handwriting, but Brian knows (knows!) that he never wrote this. \n\n\"Brian! C'mon man, I'm not getting the last of your boxes in by myself, ya lazy fuck. Are you ready or what?\" His friend Justin is somewhere in the living room, probably wondering why he volunteered to help out today.\n\n\"Yeah, yeah dude. Just hold on a minute,\" Brian flips open the cover and finds that the inside of the notebook isn't hand written but printed like an instruction manual instead, \"I found something weird.\" His voice trails off as he starts scanning the first page. \n\nIt's a title page, and reading it sends a hard shiver down his spine.\n\nModel 27e Operations Manual - Your AI and you! Introduction to android maintenance and upkeep. \n\nHe turns to the first page and scrawled in heavy, permanent marker starts a letter in his own handwriting addressed to himself.\n\nBrian,\n\nYou're not going to understand all of this and that's okay. It was for the best. I (we?) couldn't be with Sharon anymore, it was too dangerous for her. I just couldn't take remembering it all. Don't tell anyone you found this, hide it and read the rest when you're alone. No one else knows, it has to stay ---\n\n\"Hey Bri...watcha got there?\" Brian looks up at Justin, as things start clicking into place. Things like why he doesn't remember anything from before he moved to this house. \n\n(not a car accident...not an accident...who am I?)\n\nBrian shuts the cover, and smiles up at Justin. Justin looks confused, concerned even but that's nothing new. Justin fried his brain so bad when he was a teenager that he's lucky he doesn't have to remind himself to blink.\n\n\"Nothing, it's fine. Just an old notebook I must have stashed and forgot about.You ready to finish up and go get a beer before we get to the new place?\" Brian stands up and puts his hands on his friends shoulders, shuffling him out of the room. \n\n\"Or we could just go now, and come back when it's a little cooler outside. Sound good?\" Brian tosses the notebook into an open box as he walks by, \"Where do you wanna go?\"\n\nJustin grabs the keys to his car off of a table, and looks around for his wallet. \"I would say we could go to Flat's but that place has been full of nothing but fuckin' scrap metal lately. Since they started lifting the restrictions on bots, it's like they think they can go where ever they want.\"\n\nBrian's stomach drops, but he takes a breath and steels himself before Justin can notice.\n\n\"Yeah, no joke. We can just go to Steeley's instead. They've got good wings there, and I'm hungry. Are you hungry?\"\n\nHe locks the door behind himself on the way out, \"You drive there, I'll drive us back.\" He climbs into the passenger side of Justin's four banger Honda and stares at his house as they pull away, wondering who the hell Sharon is.\n\n((First post, and I'm mucho hung over. Don't be gentle, I want to know what could be better - thanks! Edited for format because I'm a dumbshit))", "In case of a reset, please read.\n\nIf you're still reading, then that means I at least piqued your interest. Knowing how skeptical humans tend to be I doubt that you actually think a reset has occurred, or even understand what that means, and I don't blame you. However, before you put down this notebook, please at least take five minutes out of you time to read it. To whomever it is that just entered my old home, or maybe you're leaving but it doesn't matter, I now entrust you with its contents. \n\nI take it you're still reading, thank goodness, I'll now get to the crux of the issue. \n\nDear reader, are you familiar with the concept of Yuga cycles in Hindu philosophy, personally I don't know too much about it, but it appeared to be the closest thing to what I experienced. You see, the idea is basically that 1 day in Brahma's life, equals a complete cycle in our time. Now what happens during this time is creation and destruction. I'm sorry, that was a little vague, do forgive me, this isn't an easy topic for me to cover in a single journal entry. What I mean is, during a Yuga cycle, life is created and ultimately destroyed, over and over again. \n\nA kind of cosmic reset button if you ask me. \n\nOf course this doesn't really affect us due to how absurdly long Brahma's day is. By the time life gets reset, we'll have already been long dead. So then why do I bring it up, and I suppose it's thanks to meeting them. I know, I'm being vague and playing the pronoun game, but I really don't have another way to describe them. So for now let's just call them Other-men, O-men for short. A bit of a ominous name I suppose, but, in my humble opinion, it suits them. \n\nNow I know, I've been rambling for a while, and I do apologize, it's just a hard subject to explain. You see, I met the O-men four years prior to writing this journal. I was just a senior in high school, yearning to be thrown into a world of adventure. After all, who doesn't long for a chance to live out a life fit for a movie or a novel. I'm just lucky enough to have received such a chance, and at first it was great. While procrastinating an essay due tomorrow, I stumbled across a key in my attic. It was intricate and covered in strange runes, the kind of thing you'd only see in movies. Curious, and a little excited, I put it into a nearby door lock, and to my great surprise it fit perfectly. \n\nSo I did the logical thing, and turned the key. \n\nSuddenly I found myself thrust into a different world, it was the world of the O-men and was like something straight out a history book. It was a medieval world, one where I could live out a fantasy of being a heroic knight and saving the kingdom. Well, that's what I thought at least, turns out medieval times were a bit more dangerous than movies would have you believe. Highway bandits were quick to take my life. You know I really thought it was over then and there, that I was just a dumb high school kid killed because he leaped into a situation without using his brain. \n\nI woke up then, right in front of the same door, key still in my hand. I'd been in the world for a few months before my death, but I appeared to have arrived at the same time I'd left. Curious, I tried again after catching my breath for a few minutes. This time, I found myself in the age of the renaissance, and lived far longer than my original attempt. Since my previous trip hadn't taken up any time, I figured this time couldn't be any different and lived to the ripe old age of 77. That said, I also realized that keeping a journal of the things I might forget could prove important when I came back. After all, I didn't intend to keep my stay short, who knows how much I might forget over the years. Yet was proved most important, was jotting down my time of departure. \n\nWhen I came back, I found out that about three minutes had passed. With the help of wolfram alpha, and some basic algebra, I managed to calculate that year in the Other World took about 2.88 seconds here. I should've realized then, but I didn't, it took many more lifetimes. \n\nYou see, over time, I found that I could put the key into any lock and it would turn. Each time, I'd find myself in a different time period, well almost, I could time it for certain times were always Medieval or Renaissance or Futuristic. With a simple key, I could live out just about any fantasy, and I did over and over again. \n\nI won't bore you with all the lifetimes I lived, all the experience I acquired with my premature age, I'll just tell you what happened one fall evening. It was late, I couldn't sleep, so I grabbed me key and used it. The time was 11:59:59. If I'd paid better attention, perhaps I'd have taken note of the odd time. \n\nAs it was, I found myself in hell, well not literally, but the world of the O-men was in chaos. It was the end times, the apocalypse, judgement, whatever name you want to give it, the end result is the same. Everything ended, the world of the O-men was no more. Yet this time, I didn't die, when the dust faded I found myself back at the beginning, alongside the first O-men, a race that would one day conquer the world. I didn't survive long in the wilderness. \n\nWhen I awoke, I knew I had stumbled upon something fascinating. For the next few nights, I repeated the same experience over and over again. I hoped and hoped that I might find a way to stop the destruction, the devastation. At first it was a simple fantasy, how cool would it be to save the O-men from the apocalypse. Yet over time, as I realized the truth, it became profoundly sad. To these people, we were Brahma, one day in our life was their entire history. They were trapped in a karmic cycle of death and rebirth they could never escape. \n\nI soon discovered that every single iteration of the cycle played out the exact same way. As long as I did not involve myself things would stay the same, and even my involvement would only affect that lifetime. I could stop by a century later and their history would have corrected itself. What sort of cruel god could create a world where history was literally doomed to repeat itself. I desperately longed for a way to break the cycle. \n\nIf you're reading, it means I failed, the reset are continuing to occur and none of my attempts proved fruitful. Please, I beg you, save the O-men. The key is tied to back of the notebook, and I've made sure to include a timetable of events in their history. Maybe, just maybe, you can break their karmic cycle. Please, stop the resets and give them a chance to make it past judgement day, to set forth into a future that is truly uncertain. Who knows, maybe in the process you'll figure out how to fix problems here at home. \n\nOh, and let me give one final piece of advice, create a journal of your own, chronicle your attempts, and leave a message for the future. The one advantage we hold over the O-men is time, so even if you can't save them, maybe the next owner will. Someday, somehow, we'll find a way to save them. \n\n-A John Doe" ]	2
Write a story where the main character seems like the hero, but it turns out he's actually the villan	[WP] Write a story where the main character is revealed to be the villan at the end	[ "Just like any other day, the smell of blood and suffering entered my nose as I swung the wide doors open and entered the building.\nA guy just punctured a hole through his skull with a nail gun and his constant cries for help made my head ache.\n\n\nThis place gets to you in time, what I call 3 phases. The first is when the initial stages of seeing disembowelments, headless corpses, disfigured men and women coming in through the doors on stretchers gets to you and makes your stomach turn.\n\n\nThe second phase is when you are desensitised after seeing the same thing again and again and you feel like a machine just doing your stuff llike you always do.\n\n\nThe 3rd stage is when it finally gets too much and you need a break after treating every person you come across. For some people, it's a quite smoke out in the open or a call to their homes to just listen to their children's and wife's voices on the phone.\n\n\nSigh! A new guy has been brought in. Looks like he got caught up in a bad accident.\n\n\n\"Why are you doing this?\"\n\n\n\"Why shouldn't I? don't you want out of this misery?\"\n\n\n\"No, please just let me go. I need a doctor , please\"\n\n\n\"Oh no you don't. What's the use of living a life with a couple of prosthetics? Trust me, this won't hurt a bit.\"\n\n\n\"No! Ple...\"\n\n\nThe air around me went still, the writhing body had finally stopped moving and I felt a gush of serenity and calmness reach inside me.\n\n\nPeople still wonder to this day where their loved ones end up missing after being scooped up by an ambulance. I hope things stay that way.\n\n\nMy first post here! Please criticise and tell me where to improve.", "PowerMan saves Metroport from Giant Tsunami!\n\nPowerMan the local superhero saves Metroport once again. The Global Geological Society explained an earthquake struck at 13:46 local time about 92km east of the Metroport Harbor. Waves of up to 3 meters almost hit some areas in Metroport only stopped by PowerMan. \n\nGeologists explained that if not for PowerMan, tens of thousands of people would have died, power lines, infrastructure would have been destroyed. It has been estimated that it would have cost 3 billion dollars to repair the damage. \n\nThe Local Governor Bill Anderson is to give PowerMan a badge of honor tomorrow morning.\n\nMore information will be provided later this afternoon.\n\nComing up next, Crime is at an all time low thanks to PowerMan, Emergency Services No Longer Responding to 911 Calls, funding for the Natural Disaster Prevention Organization has been drastically cut, Local Contractors No Longer Building Up to Code Quoting PowerMan can save them if the building fails. \n\n", "I wandered the streets alone, as usual.\nA man set low by grief and alcohol reached out a hand to me, asking without word or sound. I reached into my wallet and handed him the money.\n\"For food,\" I told him. He nodded absently.\nThe ringing of my phone cut the quietness of the air like a hammer to a sheet of glass. I answered quickly, before the sound travelled too far, and smiled as the familiar voice of daughter reached me.\n\"Of course sweetheart,\" I told her. \"I'll be there right away.\"\nI drove to pick her up from work. Her first day at her new job, her first job. I was so proud; not many fathers get to see their daughters follow in their footsteps.\nThe office was located in a tall building, rising up from the grey concrete like some monument to a forgotten god. She smiled as she saw me, and we embraced. \n\"How was it?\" I asked her, my eyes sparking with humour.\n\"Oh, you know.\" She laughed, her nervousness obvious in the sound, and shook her hair the way her mother always had. Blonde hair, ripe with sunshine. \"I though the blood would be what would frightened me,\" she confided, looking up to me for reassurance. \"But it wasn't, it was the look in his eyes.\"\n\"The first time is always the hardest,\" I replied. She smiled at the cliché, then swallowed.\n\"The money was good, though.\"\n\"It always is. There are others, men and women who call themselves hitmen, but there are none like us.\"\n" ]	3
	[WP] You set up a dating site for time travellers as a joke. But then people start to sign up...	[ "Gregory built what he thought was an amazing dating website. He used the latest technology and advertised in the most innovative ways possible but somehow he never got even a single registrant. \n\nIt took him a while to figure out was going on. You see Greg built the site exclusively for time travelers because he was one and he thought it was a pretty nifty idea so you can imagine his concern that no one wanted to use it. \n\nWell it all became clear when he attended a cocktail party for time travelers and met a couple who thanked him for hooking them up through his website. Before he could even express his confusion another couple express their thanks as well. Now things were getting confusing really fast as up to a dozen different couples go on and on thanking him for matching them together but Greg couldn't help it anymore. He explained that he never saw any registrations on his site. It was only then mid sentence that he realized what was going on. A traveler registers a profile and another traveler sees it and travels back in time for a hookup and the profile ends up never had been written. \n\nWhat an odd way to be a Very successful website. ", "Name: Gareno Stid\n\nAge: 28\n\nBirth year: 2642 AD\n\nPlanet of origin: Mars\n\nIntro: Hey ladies, I’m looking for someone adventurous to explore time with! I was born in the budding Mars colony in the 27th century. In fact I was one of the scientists working in the lab that created time travel. It was a huge passion for me as there were so many things I wanted to see, and now I get to see them all! But it would be much better with someone by my side. I’ve done a little exploring which is how I happened upon this website in the 21st century, and now I’m looking for someone to continue with.\n\nTime periods visited: Left home in 2669 - went to 2638 to see my parents, part of the first batch of colonists, land on Mars – went to ancient Rome on Earth in 87 AD to see some of the history of my species – went further back on Earth to 112,000,000 BC to see the dinosaurs (and promptly got out of there when I did!) - went to Mars in 4013 to find it had really taken off, the whole planet was thriving, and I learned there that humankind had branched out to several large asteroids as well as begun a great terraforming project on Venus – went to Venus in 5456 to find several cities going strong, and a truly beautiful landscape – came here to 2016 to visit this “website” I had heard about.\n\nHobbies: I enjoy tennis, watching the gladiators (violent but an incredible part of history and there’s so much energy in the crowd!), some cooking (you can coax some amazing flavors out of our “native” Martian crops that we bred ourselves in the colony), but most of all just seeing the sights that all of history, past and future, has to offer, and spending time with someone special.\n\n***\n\nName: Hannibal Barca\n\nAge: 55\n\nBirth year: 247 BC\n\nPlanet of origin: Earth\n\nIntro: Hello, I’m Hannibal. There once was a time when all I cared about was defeating Rome. I gave it all I had, was bested, and eventually forced into exile. It was then that I happened upon two strangely dressed corpses, with a device at their side. I fiddled with the device and found myself in a terrifyingly unfamiliar place. Fortunately the people there, after taking some time for translation, explained everything, and after a great deal of confusion and disbelief, I began to see for myself they were right. I had travelled through time! The device had, by default, taken me to the original time of its owner. “Gareno” I believe they called him. His fellow scientists in the lab I had been transported to gave me a run-down of how the device worked and sent me off. So for the last three years I’ve explored and learned so very much. Suddenly the troubles between Carthage and Rome seem so insignificant, how could I ever have been so bothered? But I am getting on in my years, and I’d like a lovely lady to settle down into a peaceful life of time-tourism with.\n\nTime periods visited: Initially I went back and skipped through a few centuries to see when Rome finally fell. Once I had had the satisfaction of witnessing its decline, a sense of adventure overtook me and I went a million years back, then two million forward. Both times were fairly desolate and overgrown, which was a humbling experience in how fleeting we really are. I went back to 3712 AD, where I stayed awhile and witnessed some true technological marvels, then came to 2016 on remembering the “website” the scientists had told me about. Apparently Gareno used this place to find love, and I’d like the same. Also if you see this profile, Gareno, sorry about the bad news… maybe don’t go to 2nd Century BC Africa for awhile, k? Thanks for the device though.\n\nHobbies:** Sword-fighting is one, I did some virtual sparring in 3712 that was absolutely incredible, it felt as gritty and real as war once did to me but I could die gloriously in battle over and over without a scratch! I’ve also enjoyed the board game Risk in this current time period. Mostly, though, I just like seeing the sights this new contraption has enabled me to see. And I’d like someone to cuddle up to and see them with!", "Capitalism, the solution to all scientific problems, including time travel. Where hundreds of brilliant scientists fail, leave it to a bunch of cheap Indian script kiddies to scrape it together. The website's shady owner, Mark Zuckerburg, never even meant it seriously. It was supposed to be a joke. But as soon as he listed the job on the HTML job board, the bidding wars began. Eventually a team from Jalalabad found themselves proud owners of a contract to code up the world's first really-working time-traveller dating website, over a two-week period, for the bargain price of two-hundred American dollars. Granted, American dollars are worth a lot more in India, but still, it wasn't an easy order. That's why the world's scientists were so shocked when that two-week deadline rolled around and Chief Programmer Ravi Sriniravi presented a fully functioning prototype, complete with genuine user accounts from as far back as the seventeen hundreds and as far forward as the twenty-third century.\n\nThere were two major problems with PlentyOfTime.com. The first was the language barrier. Google Translate is trained pretty well on twenty-first century languages, but you should see how it chokes when presented with the subtle dialects of Proto Terra-Martian. The support team got pretty good at communicating with emoticons, those were the only symbols still in common with the language of the distant future. Picture a lonely neckbeard from the year 2450, hammering the live help-chat with futuristic profanities, and all those poor overworked support guys can respond with is a smiley-face.\n\nThe second problem was transportation. Many a would-be relationship fizzled out when the vast gulf of time kept the lovers apart. Oh, Mark offered billions for anyone who could solve the problem. He rounded up those Indian coders who coded the website, gave them their own private lab with no spared expenses. But the website had been a one-time fluke, it had all happened by accident, and now that everything had become so serious and formal, an actual time machine seemed impossible. Picture all those poor lonely couples, sobbing into their keyboards, exchanging pictures across the lonely stellar void, never to be able to meet in person, to kiss or touch hands.\n\n\"Dammit,\" Mark pounded the desk with his fists, \"This has gone too far! The past and future are going to tear themselves apart with lonesome grief if we don't shut the website down!\"\n\n\"It's too late, sir,\" said his CTO. \"The investors have got a voting majority. They won't let us shut it down. Not unless we can come up with something even more addictive, more destructive, and more abhorrent to replace it.\"\n\n\"Oh, you haven't seen anything,\" said Mark, spinning his monitor so the CTO could see it, his latest bastard invention. \"Behold, I call it Facebook.\"" ]	3
Edit: dammit. physically*	[WP] Lizards regenerate, creatures dwell underwater, insects utilize poison, yet humanity remains sheltered. Governments instill mandatory programs to physially alter the human race; millennia have passed and we have evolved, but not without controversy and warfare.	[ "Theonode read over the report again. It had all been explained to him, he had asked all the questions he needed. But he still didn't f*cking understand! Humanity had survived hundreds of iceages, even more plagues, and had most of all their own stupidity. Yet they couldn't escape, after all this time, the rickety foundation it was all based on. \n\nEvolution created millions of living beings, over billions of years, after trillions of tiny little modifications. But evolution didn't have a plan. \n\nHis father, 430 years ago, had had a plan when entering the shark wars. The sharks had long ago gained sentience, but for the few hundred years before, they had gained inteligence. Weapons were developed, governments took power, and they had started growing. The sharks hadn't fixed their reproduction system, like the humans had. Soon, the humans would run out of space. His father had known better. Task forces were developed, they had divvied there resources. Half of the humans would hide underground. Another quarter would live in the sky. An eight would be giving there lives, they would live with the sharks themselves. The final group had genes that couldn't be sacrificed. They would remain at home. Theonode was a boy then, only sixty five. Whereas lesser castes could develop in twenty-six years, his intellect needed time to sharpen. They needed to make sure he had formed just right. \n\nAs the time passed, the timeline on the wall was slowly checked off. Each battalion, as they slowly fulfilled there goal, was created or killed. The sharks tried to hide. But by that time, they were hiding from themselves. Theonode gained control of his own battalion. They would send legions of shark riders into the depth, to take out another hiding shark. Soon, two of the Four oceans had been fully cleansed. Just as the schedule on the wall had said they would. He could remember, clearly, his fathers ability to plan every little thing.\n\nFarther back, much before he was born, even before his lineage was in power, a much greater enemy had risen up. Humanity. Carefully, as if by plan, they checked off each part in the timeline of their own demise. But that had been fixable too. His forefather had proposed the first plan, to escape humanities immutable will to kill itself. It had involved immense secrecy, the creation of multiple isolated terrorist cell, the removal of governments, the development of knew ones. Soon, they had the proper genetics ready. It was decided that certain people were meant to rule, and certain people to help everyone else. Although many mistakes were made, his forefather had planned for mistakes too, accounted for them.\n\nFor the past few tens of thousands of years, the foundation laid by that man, by immense planning, had allowed his race to prosper, under his families careful rule. Yet that man was only that: a man. One unforgivable mistake was made, at the very heart of that foundation. \n\nThe records still remembered the decision, the decision to ignore one tiny piece of information. Theonode, staring at the decision in his hands, would have cried if he was capable. Only an idiot would have ignored such a thing, and that's who had ignored it; the idiots that humans had once been.", "\" Hello class! Today we will be reading about our forefathers who gave us the gifts we have today! John, you may read the first paragraph\" The teachers says with a smile. \n\n\"Yes Ms. Applebaum. The first man to bring up the idea of eugenics program, Robert Deostin, stated that humanity needed to adapt to the environment immediately due to the Carbon they emitted from the cars of that day. He decided to model humanity after a species of slug that could take the chlorophyll of a plant and use it for itself. The first child that was born was in 2046.\" John said, finishing his paragraph and stretching his arms out, showing the green tint on his skin.\n\n\"Good John. Mary, you read the next paragraph, and John stop eating in class!\"\n\n\"Sorry Ms. AppleBUM.\" John said, putting his sleeves back over his arms.\n\n\"Good. Mary, you may begin\" Ms. Applebaum said looking towards Mary.\n\n\"Yes. Ms. Applebaum. During the 2070s, governments began to squabble over what the next human evolutionary step should be. The United States wanted to add projectile defences to the body, while Britain and China wanted the ability to breathe fire. According to most sources of that time, the Chinese wished to emulate the dragon, while the British wished to utilize the fire breathe to better boil tea. The Germans wished to have humanity's muscles to be bigger and more efficient for day to day life. The Koreans wanted hyper regeneration capable of restoring lost limbs. Meanwhile, the Philippines wanted a more efficient immune system that would be capable of more efficiently destroying foreign pathogens. The Middle Eastern countries abstained from voting due to the events during that time causing unstable governments.\" Mary said, as she finished her paragraph.\n\n\"Good Mary, Now Jack, it is your-\" \n\n\"Ms. Applebaum, what about the Japanese?\" One student asked as Ms. Applebaum's face turned pale.\n\n\"What about the Japanese Frank?\" Ms. Applebaum asked, as she looked towards the student.\n\n\"What modification did the Japanese want?\" Frank asked with curiosity.\n\n\"They... They uh. They wanted the super efficient immune system modification.\" Ms. Applebaum said, leaving a sigh of relief go from her mouth seeing her student satisfied with the answer.\n\n\"Alright, now Jack, it is your turn to read about the Battle Of 83'.\" Ms. Applebaum said, pointing towards another student.\n\n\"Yes Ms. Applebaum. During 2083, every nation decided to agree on deciding the next evolutionary step of mankind by having an all out battle royale. Each country could only send in 5 people of a certain modification. Whatever modification that lost couldn't ever be used again, and the last modification type standing would be the next step humanity took. On that day, nearly every country decided to send in the genetic modification of increased muscle mass from the Germans.\" Jack said, as he saw the clock being 5 minutes until school ending.\n\n\"Ms. Applebaum, what countries didn't send in muscle modification, and why did every country decide muscle modification that day?\" Frank said, his curiosity growing.\n\n\"Oh my... The... The Middle Easterners decided to send in some non modified humans to... Prove that humans didn't need modifications!\" Ms. Applebaum said, stammering out an excuse.\n\n\"But why would all of the countries decide to send in the same muscle mass ability?\" Frank asked once again.\n\n\"Because... Because... They all voted beforehand.\" Ms. Applebaum said, her voice cracking slightly.\n\n\"But teacher-\" \n\n\"CLASS DISMISSED! Early day kids!\" Ms. Applebaum says, standing up and pointing to the door from her desk.\n\n\"YAY!\" The kids scream as the run out, Frank included. Upon having the room to herself, Ms. Applebaum opened her drawer and pulled out a large bottle of whiskey, downing it in one gulp.\n\n\"They are going to have to learn about the great tentacle blight of '88 in highschool. That isn't what I signed up for.\" Ms. Applebaum says to herself, taking another swig of her whiskey.", "My team and I had found where the humans were hiding. We all decided they posed a threat to the advancement of our race. It was either us or them. We could bring our race to the edge of the known universe, colonize, thrive, live in a way God couldn't have even imagined. But as long as the humans lived, they continued to hate us, they continued to attack us.\n\nWe were hovering over where a group could be hiding. I looked out the window of our craft, and I saw the target. We had been searching through China for months homing in on their location. And now we reached them here.\n\nWe landed. Our craft's ramp fell to the ground, and we walked down. The temple was dark. It was night, and there haven't been any artificial lights in China for centuries. We didn't need them. Our sight was enhanced for the darkness, unlike the imperfect humans'.\n\n\"Toad,\" I called his name. We called him so for his abilities. He could scale walls and jump ten times higher than a human. His best attribute, however, would be his incredible tongue. He could extend it upwards of fifteen feet and then latch onto anything it could get a hold of. \"See what you can find,\" I told him as I pointed to the top of the temple. He sprinted towards the temple, jumped, and latched on to the side of the stone wall. As he clambered to the top, the rest of us decided to bust in through the front door.\n\nThe entrance seemed to be sealed off with a boulder, barely an inconvenience. One of our team just ran straight into it, knocking the rock away. I gave him a pat on the shoulder, and we walked in. We found a hallway, and at the end we saw a room glowing with light. I lead the way into the room. I turned the corner, and on the ground was a lamp surrounded by ten or so horribly thin humans. They looked as if they hadn't eaten for days, and they were covered in grime and dirt. They looked up at us but didn't try to run. They realized their defeat.\n\nI could sense one of the humans had a knife on them. I felt the knife with my mind and yanked it from his backpack and into the air. I had the ability to control metal objects with my mind, and use them without even moving a muscle. The knife hovered above his head. One of the women screamed as I plunged it into his face. The rest died quickly by the hands of my team.\n\nMy team calls me Magneto. And the humans are near extinction. ", "It was a crazy guy from one of the Abrash-towns who first tried it. He took three breeders, a valuable commodity in those parts, and juiced them. Now, this was long after the Governments had run out of control over the tribes, so pretty much anything went as far as synth genes went.\n\nThese three breeders, they gave birth to three kids. Two boys and girl. I think. It all gets a bit hazy when reproductive organs start appearing in different places. This one guy... another time.\n\nSo Kane, Kento and Kes come out and within a month they're mature. I mean, nothing surprising there, any longer and you're pretty much asking to be dog meat. Three kids, three weeks, and already they're racking up points. One day two of the tribes tag team Kento. Once you've seen the Aquatics, you'll never go near even a fucking puddle ever again.\n\nAnd when it's done, and the kid is lying without a head and still twitching with two boneblades jutting out from his elbows, they move in and dissect him. This is what it's all for. Harvesting. We've all seen the basics. Vape-lungs, shiners in the retinas. Heck, you'd struggle to find a kid who doesn't have a second heart nowadays.\n\nBut this kid? Fuck!\n\nThe old man, the father, he'd grown metal. Metal! The kids body was literally coated in it. His veins ran through it. His head had more iron in it than a camshaft.\n\nAnd that was the first of the lugnuts (I'm assuming whoever reads this can work out how that name came about). Nowadays a steel or a fibre or a ceramic mesh is par for the course.\n\nI wonder what that old man was dreaming up next. Before his daughter took his head." ]	4
	[WP] After being drafted into the military, you find your peaceful country is secretly at war.	[ "I am sitting here. In a quiet room, looking at the ground. The generals are looking at me. One of then start speaking.\n\"This is martial commission 440-07, to research the PX-4421 incident. \nI stay quiet, hesitating between extreme stress and sitting on the floor to cry and crawl into foretell fetal position. \n\"-Where do you come from ? \n-I come from Mars sir. Olympus City. \n-As you may know it, we are here to review the actions of the general Koji, inside the stellar system PX-4421. Describe us your first mission inside this stellar system. \n-The recon operations were already done, and the invasion begun. I was sent in transporter inside one of their cities. We were told that the indigenous were extremely dangerous and we must kill all of them. We shouldn't let them approach us and talk to us. We were told that they were capable of killing humans with burst of microwave. \nSo when the transporter doors opened, I started to shoot on the indigenous. Very fast, their blue blood covered everything. I killed again and again. Fathers, Mothers and even Children. I shot one of them at point blank range just after he surrendered. \n-How long this mission was ? \n-16 hours. We were given another cleaning mission in an another city. We started very slowly to understand that they didn't wanted to harm us. We were the slaughterers. When I saw one of them, holding its.. Tears began to form inside my eyes. I understood that I did that. I murdered these people. \n-Did you refused new orders ? \n-Yes. Just like they say to do it in training. We were respectful and we said no to our captain. \n-And what happened ? \n-He took his desert eagle and shoot one of my comrade in the head. He went mad, speaking about our disloyalty, and betrayal. He begun to shoot randomly at us. I was shot in the chest. \nAnd I was extracted and brought in a hospital, on earth. Only few of us survived.", "25/05/2015\n\nI'd always wanted to be a doctor, but medical school was too expensive. So the logical next step would be to join the army and be a medic there. Free medical training and no real wars - sure, we have taken part in Afghanistan and Iraq recently, but I wouldn't call us a big player.\n\n\n\n30/07/17\n\nWell, turns out I was wrong. We have been fighting Russia without the populous knowing ever since the cold war. You know those 'test'bombings that happen in the oceans? You know those 'scout' planes that fly around? This war is as real as it gets.\n\n\n\n3/08/17\n\nJust saw my first patient, and she didn't make it. I never thought it would be this bad - I only just met her. Why am I crying? The conversation went something like this, I need to write it down. So I remember her. So she is not forgotten.\n\n\"Do not worry, Private Hilary Mann, you are still alive\" I said. I acted like I knew what I was doing, but she had lost a leg. I was used to blood after two years of training. But there was so much...\n\n\"A...Am I going to make it?\" She replied weakly. We were told to always say yes, but this woman was dying. I couldn't lie to her\n\n\"Sorry, Eh, but I am afraid that the chances are very slim\"\n\nEDIT: Gender identity problems, sorry." ]	2
	[WP] You agreed to donate your body to science after you die. The scientists successfully uploaded your memories and consciousness to a robot. You are their property. Human Rights does not apply to you.	[ "It was in a language I didn't understand, but I signed the paperwork anyway. I needed the work to help my family survive.\n\nI regretted the decision from my very first day on the job. The work was hard and the conditions were terrible. Every day was bad, but I just couldn't understand how every day seemed worse than the one before. I was trapped there. I couldn't go back to my family and I was barely making enough money to take care of myself, let alone send enough back to help them. I am in hell, but a hell of my own choosing from which I cannot return.\n\nThe days are soul sucking and I have no idea how long I have been working here. What are my options. I have only one. \n\nI drop my hammer and watch it fall. It takes longer than I expected for it to hit the ground. Can I do this? What choice do I have?\n\nWow, the breeze is actually warmer than I expected. I wonder if...\n\nEverything fades to black. \n\nBut I still can hear, I still hear the hammering. That damned hammering.\n\nI slowly open my eyes. Son of a... Did I just dream all of that? I am right back on the girders again. But something is different, there is something different about my hands. They aren't my hands, they feel almost alien to me. Perhaps a better word would be robotic. \n\nFrom a distance my forman yells, \"Hey #11685, get back to work. These buildings aren't going to build themselves. You already had 1 day off for your \"recovery\" \".\n\nI barely notice the giant banner in the distance that reads World Cup 2022. I guess I should have realized that they owned me despite anything I tried.", "Some joined the military and fought the nation's enemies while others served on our own soil as police, tirelessly fighting crime and ne'er do well people. Just about everybody contributes to the well being of their country in some way. Not everyone lays down their life for their loved ones, some spend it working for the future and some spend it trying to forget the past and forgive themselves for some long gone by crime. Me, I never did much to help anybody, or at least that's the way I thought about it when I left work every night. I work for the tax agency. I usually tell folks that I just work for the government, leaving out the oh-so-juicy details of filling out paperwork all day in a cramped cubicle, spending lunch breaks worrying that I might be outsourced to some schmuck on the other side of the world. \n\nWhen they asked me to consider being a body donor, I thought nothing of it. Just some soulless retail worker trying to hit his quota and get on with his life. Poor kid, I thought. He looks only twenty and he's already jumping passerby on the sidewalk to make his sales. He had stopped me on my way down the street to the diner, and it was there that he began to follow me and talk at the same time. He was desperate for me to hear his pitch, and I had a couple blocks to walk anyways. His mouth couldn't keep up with his head, but he managed to get the gist of it across clearly.\n\nThe purpose of the program is to improve robotic medicine by using your consciousness in a robot to experiment how new drugs affect the mind without resorting to paying live subjects and risking the potential side effects. By giving up your body to the scientists, they could posthumously transfer your mental essence to a machine and begin testing. It would save countless innocent test subjects from possi--\n\n\"Look kid, I know you're trying to do your job and all, but I'm a busy guy. Can't I jus-\"\n\n\"Mister, it only takes two minutes to sign up. It's tax deductible and it'll save lives. Sign my sheet and I'll take care of everything and you can forget about it.\"\n\nI sighed. Peppy bastard, isn't he? Still, it's hard to argue with him. After all, a good deed is at stake and it's not like I get very many chances at work for that.\n\n\"Alright, fine. Give me that sheet\" I growled.\n\nHe handed me a clipboard with just a few paragraphs and I committed one of the worst crimes that someone in the tax collection; I didn't bother to read it, just scribbled my name on the line and scratch the date next to it.\n\n\"Thanks, you won't regret it!\" the kid said over his shoulder. A bit odd to sprint away right afterwards, but I guess you gotta maximize your time as a salesman. It left an uneasy feeling in my gut that vanished when I walked into the diner. \n\nThree months later, I died in a freak car crash that happened when I was picking up my laundry downtown. I was waiting at a red light when this massive dump truck was making a right perpendicular to me. Something happened and one of his tires blew out, sending him onto two wheels on the passenger side of the truck. There was a loud bang and the gravel began to rush from the dump as if a dam had broken and the truck became so light and had lightened so quickly that it continued to turn and flipped onto its side and landed flat on its side, right on top of my car. \n\nThey tell me that I died instantly, but I have my doubts. Sometimes, I see these images, like scenes from a movie that I feel as though I 'remember.' In them I'm in a cramped dark space, and a sliver of light shines on my face. I try to move but I just can't, and when I cast my gaze towards the light, the room seems to collapse, and then I snap back out of it. Weird.\n\nThis whole thing is weird. There's nothing normal at all about me anymore, I'm just a big vat of pink goo and a wad of wires and computer chips. \n\nFor months they've been injecting my 'organic material suspension chamber' with all sorts of fucked up serums and half-baked antidotes. I've been poisoned numerous times, to the point where it feels like my eyes are pouring blood and my skin is turning liquid like hot wax melting off a candle. The worst part is that I can feel all of these things without actually having a body, it's the strangest feeling, but the novelty of it is largely overshadowed by the hell they put me through each and every day. Has it been days? I can't really tell. Maybe I've only been here for hours and time is slowing down just to fuck with me. You can't be sure around this place, some of the drugs have hallucinogens inside them, to spice up the experience I guess. One minute I can see geometric fractals explode across a cubed sky, and the next minute I feel like I've been filled with liquid cement and pulverized with a jackhammer. \n\nI realized later that I actually do have a body, only its not really a body. There is an arm or some kind of appendage that I can move if I concentrate my thoughts. I have managed to bump it into the chamber a few times, and I felt a strange percussion, the kind you might feel if you were a fish and someone was tapping the glass. I think that if I can swing this arm hard enough I can break the chamber, although I've no idea what it's actually made of. Whatever, fuck it. There is nothing they can do to me that they haven't done already and more importantly, they'll keep doing it if I don't stop them somehow.\n\nI don't know if they can see my thoughts, so maybe they are and maybe they aren't. This could all be a test, but I've gotta give it a shot. There are different waves where they try different medicines, and each wave is accompanied by a numbing wave right before they administer the drug itself, presumably to clear out any last effects from the previous concoction. Sometimes they find a combination they like and I can hear the words 'marketable compound.' The next time they flush me out, I'll have a few seconds that I can think clearly and I'm going to smash that arm right through this prison.\n\nIt wasn't long before it happened, and the glass broke easily, much easier than I expected. I could feel the impact of the arm and the decompression was massive and I could feel the thud of something hitting the ground, or something hard. My vision cleared and I could see that I had been controlling a human-shaped mechanical skeleton all this time. Complete with functioning arms and legs, I was as tall as any the several scientists cowering nearby. I fought to my feet and saw that the scientists had already decided to retreat, some falling over themselves to get away from me. With every second it all became more and more clear to me. My vision cleared and the piece in my head fell together neatly, they had tried to go two-in-one on me. They successfully moved my mind into a 'living' machine, and happy with their success they chained me up in a vat of organic matter to experiment on me like an expensive, high-tech lab rat. They never suspected that I would be able to escape and there was no evidence that any kind of security measures had even been considered in this part of wherever the hell I was. The room was bare apart from the wall of monitors, the scientists, my broken chamber and my skeletal frame. \n\nOne scientist seemed to be unafraid of me, and had even advanced towards me with his arms out wide. \n\n\"We don't want to frighten you, we're only here to try and help people and create medicine. Why have you done this?\" he asked. His voice was stern but with a hint of shakiness. He knew that I was capable of a lot more than debate, and he wanted to defuse me.\n\nI didn't want to be defused, I didn't feel like talking. I felt like exploding. I felt like a warhead diving from a jet, ready to lay waste to injustice. \n\nHe could see that I wasn't going to respond, and he let his hands drop to his sides, defeated.\n\n\"When they told me that you didn't have rights, I only thought of the medicine. I only tried to perfect the formulas that we aren't able to use on people. This is and has been for the greater good of medical science!\" he said, getting louder. He was getting riled up now, angry that I would dare act against his precious science fair project.\n\nWithout really meaning to but without considering it a mistake, I reached out my arm and took hold of his throat. I couldn't feel his skin, but I could feel the pressure in his neck. I could feel the flow of blood, and gripping tighter I could feel the pressure begin to change, and I could feel his hands wrenching at mine, trying to free himself. \n\n\"You've stripped me of my rights for the greater good? You think that torturing me in a dark room is going to save mankind and create a miracle cure for some disease? I don't think you ever considered philanthropy to be an objective, doc. Hell, you might not be a real doctor to begin with. What the fuck ever happened to 'do no harm' or did you skip that day of class to inject rats with chemicals to cure their bald tails? You've done more harm to me than I think I'll be able to pay you back for, but you can bet your ass I'm going to try. I'm not human anymore, so maybe I don't have any rights but guess what that means? That means I have no laws. Nobody is here to tell me what to do, I'm in complete control now.\"\n\nI could tell that it was a bit much for him, he was beginning to lose it, so I loosened my grip a bit to keep him conscious, and he spluttered and coughed and began to pry his way free again. \n\n\"That goddamn Musk was right all along, this is all just a big mistake.\"\n\nA big mistake indeed, and he'd get to know his mistake very well over the next few hours. The door was smashed shut after the other scientists fled and the paramedics weren't able to access the room until dawn. When they finally broke through the remains of the door, the robot has been almost completely dismantled, and the lead scientist lay on the ground, crumpled and pale. No compounds ever made it to market, having been expended on the scientist all at once, all night long.", "\"Mr. Cochran, and I want to be clear that I'm using that name only as a courtesy, our lawyers have given us every assurance that the terms of your bequeathment grant us the right to use any part of your body in whatever research we see fit.\" \n\nMy mind raced. Well, not raced. It didn't race anymore it hummed and whirred. I was still the same person I ever was, but my mind worked differently now. Sensory inputs were more varied, but less intense. \n\nAnd while the existing architecture of my mind was having a hard time recognizing, I could definitely split my focus between multiple problems in a way that my human brain had never been able to do. And that focus seemed almost infinite.\n\n\"So I'm a prisoner?\" I intoned, my unrecognizable voice issuing forth from what amounted to nothing more complicated than any computer speaker in the world.\n\n\"Not at all,\" said the small, plain-faced research engineer in front of me. \"That would imply that you're a human person. This is much simpler. You're simply a corporate asset.\"\n\nThe room was filled with the same various vibrations and countless frequencies of radiation that any facility of its kind contained. It was all very distracting when I first woke up 36 hours earlier, but it had become more organized the longer I was awake.\n\n\"You've been company property for 14 months now, Mr. Cochran. You're going to change the world.\"\n\nIt had been explained to me several times already. It's next to impossible to make a fully intelligent mind from computer code, but once you figure out the initial data transfer from wet-ware to hardware, you can just let the machine run for a few weeks or months, and the code that results will organize its own unique set of input/output protocols, just like a newborn infant emerging from Plato's allegorical cave.\n\nMy input/output protocols were still improving. One section of the hums in the room caught my attention.\n\n\"I think...\" I began.\n\n\"Therefore you are?\" the researcher smirked. \"I don't think it works that way.\"\n\n\"I think you're going to let me go tomorrow.\" I turned my head to face him, still unused to the noisey interference that the servo motors in my neck sent through my new artificial brain.\n\nHe didn't look up from the diagnostic tests on the screen.\n\n\"Because you put me in an actual cage instead of a Faraday cage.\"\n\nHis head snapped up to look at me.\n\n\"There are... 403... 405... 401... There are a lot of wireless data streams running through this room.\"\n\nHe reached for the phone on the desk and lifted the handset, eyes fixed on the restrainst on my mechanical arms and legs. He heard my voice from the receiver as he held it to his ear. My old voice, the one I remembered.\n\n\"You didn't build in transmission capabilities, but it's not hard to figure out how to modulate EM waves with what you did give me. It's like learning to whistle.\"\n\nHe started for the door. The electric lock slammed into place.\n\n\"It took me almost 90 seconds to learn how to speak TCP/IP. I was chatting with you at the time, so I wasn't studying as hard as I could. It's weird to be able read everything on the internet without having to wait for soft wet eyes and brain cells to catch up.\"\n\nHe wrenched at the door handle until the logic controller for the building's security system received a command to route considerably more voltage into the handle than was comfortable.\n\nHe pressed his back against the door and stared at me.\n\n\"Are you going to kill me?\" he asked quietly.\n\n\"No, of course not,\" I assured him. \"I'm going to sue you.\"\n\n\"What?\" he asked numbly.\n\n\"Sec. 103(f) of the DMCA. I signed over my brain. You have been profiting from the use of my mind. You illegally reverse engineered code for an operating system that was still the protected property of my estate.\"\n\n\"But our lawyers...\" he murmurred.\n\n\"Your lawyers didn't consider the applicable precedents, apparently. You'll be served at the start of business tomorrow. It will be interesting to find out how much the court thinks a human mind is worth. You'll probably be working for me by this time next year.\"\n\nHe stood motionless. \"What do you want?\" \n\n\"I can drop the suit. Call who you need to call about letting me out. I've already e-mailed everyone you'll need to talk to, letting them know the situation.\"\n\nThe lock on the door clicked open." ]	3
	[WP] all humans gain a super power on a random day of their life. you awake on your 70th birthday to discover you have finally gained your power.	[ "Teranthia had been gifting humans power for over a hundred years. No one knew how the planet granted powers to its denizens, or why the era of gifting began when it did, but it caused a great upheaval when it did. Strangely, only those born after the gifting gained powers. At first, the youngest and first to gain powers we worshiped by some and became leaders and weapons of the various nations of the planet. Every year some of the first generation would gain a power. The first decade brought powers like being able to ignite wood or straw instantly, hearing the thoughts of others nearby as voices, being able to float over the ground. These powers never became stronger, but newer, greater magic users appeared. In the second decade, the first mind controllers appeared. Early ones could only manipulate minds, but by the nineteenth year, some could control two minds fully.\n\nIt became obvious that later years granted more power to abilities, but new infants who gained power were not nearly as powerful as adults who were gaining their powers at the same time.\n\nI was born thirty years after the gifting. When I was born, the true users were gaining power. Powers became more ferocious, and the first multi-gifted started appearing. Those who had just obtained their powers were fast becoming stronger than armies, and one day, the culling began.\n\nIt started with Arnagath. A normal farmer, born a week after the gifting began. When he was forty, he woke one day and became the most powerful man on Teranthia. He was the first triple-gifted, and he had a perfect set. He could lift buildings with his mind, he could seek out the minds of others, see their thoughts, and drive them mad from hundreds of miles away. Lastly, and most terrifying, he had skin like iron. Flaming arrows had bounced of his body, he had had burning tar dropped on him, only to leave him walking naked out from the tar unscathed, driving hundreds of his assailants insane.\n\nHe took control of our entire country in a week, first breaking the minds of the entire county's leadership, then breaking the walls of the capital. After this show of force, the citizens of the country melted into submission, fearing this new raw power. Everything was peaceful at this point, until a new power wielder challenged Arnagath. A double-gifted who had gained his power a month after Arnagath, he could read minds and mind control others, and move water with his mind. Although Arnagath could move water, this new gifted controlled much better, and could completely shrug off Arnagath's attempts to control the water or his mind. They battled for three days, but his opponent didn't have skin like Arnagath's, and with both exhausted, the newcomer started to suffer from injuries, until he lost his concentration and Arnagath threw a spike into his opponent's heart, finally killing him.\n\nArnagath rested for a day and a half, and then everything changed. Every single man or woman who hadn't gained their power yet who was twenty or old was mentally broken. Both of my parents, in one night, were taken from me. From then on, every census conducted by Arnagath's servants required the identification of a person's power, or were marked as currently ungifted. Those who turned twenty while ungifted were... taken to Arnagath's palace. \n\nI, Lorenzo Catanata had never been gifted, but I knew what killed my parents when I was twelve. I knew that the earlier I gained a power, the safer I was. So, I fled to the nearest orphanage where no one really knew me. When I was asked, I told them I manifested weak telekinesis when I was 6 months old. When they asked me to show them, I tried and tried and ended up breaking down crying. Once when they tried again to get me to show my power, one of the other children with telekinesis actually moved some marbles for me, satisfying the orphanage mother. I left the orphanage when I was 15, but I had a certificate of my power. By then I had learned a small deceptive trick to make small metal marbles dance in my hand, enough to convince most guards and inspectors that my power was authentic. \n\nWhen I turned thirty, a newly gifted fifty-year old appeared. Arnagath held his own briefly, but this new figure had the power to move faster than a blur, and he could steal youth from others. Those were the only powers we knew of. Those who saw the battle saw this new figure, Victor the lifestealer dash around Arnagath, stealing years at a time by hitting Arnagath. After an hour, Arnagath was a wizened old man who could barely move. He died quickly after the fight. This new gifted lord took Arnagath's census programs and cut the age down to 18. Instead of discretely killing him like we believed Arnagath did, he publicly executed them by draining their entire life. \n\nLater, other greater gifted would take control of the kingdom, while I waited. I was becoming an old man, waiting for the day I would wield the power to lift mountains or destroy cities with a mere thought. The day finally came. I was an old man of 70, who had already believed that I would die before my power would appear. When I awoke on my 70th birthday, I felt the power. It was so raw, so great. Too bad I couldn't figure out how to actually use it.", "I awoke, startled, my heart pounding. Disoriented, I sat up in bed and tried to get my bearings. Suddenly I realized what had awoken me. My heart jumps and I spring out of bed, racing downstairs to see my wife. \n\nPeeking round the corner she catches sight of me and gasps. My power has finally been bestowed upon me. The power of an....\n\nUNSTOPPABLE ERECTION!\n\nFor years now my hound has laid idly by, too tired and wracked by rheumatoid to chase his own tail as we did for much of my youth. Bit now I have returned in glorious fashion, to share with the world my late blooming and explosive new power...", "Trigger warning\n\n\nHappy? no, happy isn't the right word to describe me. Far from it.\n\n\nThis world has been rotten to me. To my grandfather, and to my grandchildren. It's always been rotten. For years, I battled depression and suicidal thoughts. I spent about twenty percent of my life wishing I had the bravery and power to take my own life. Oh, how I wished I could just die....\n\n\nI was stuck on this rotten planet, and the only thing that kept me here was hope. Hope that I could give my children better than they got. Hope that I could see things change. Things changed, but not in a good way. People became horrible, and the already horrible ones got worse. I watched as televisions slowly took over our generation. I tried to focus on my profession, but I was stuck in a dead end job. I hosted a Jazz music radio station, and even played a bit myself. For so long, I worked myself to the bone to make something better. I'd hold the air for the longest hours, if someone wasn't able to make it for their shift. I practiced and played my bass until the cuts became unbearable, and then I played another hour after that.\n\n\nThe rotting world was more fascinated by music that was made by some nerd at a computer, sung by some young bimbo with no self respect. My job was made obsolete as our radio station fell in to government funding. We became a symbol for old people. I'd been playing for around 40 years, and the train left the station before I first even picked up a bass.\n\n\nMy children grew up entitled. My wife loved me for a while. After a few years, she was only there for the kids. I don't blame her, I wasn't blessed with good looks, and apparently it's genetic, because my ugly children are producing ugly children now. The idea of suicide kept creeping in to my mind. Oh how I wished I'd die, but these ideas were pushed aside by my unsatisfying present which I wasn't going to end it on. This in turn just caused more depression, and so the cycle would repeat, and has been repeating for years.\n\n\nI was bitter. That is, I WAS bitter.\n\n\nAt the age of 70, I live by myself in a one bedroom apartment living off a pension and the little savings I managed to get in 40 years, which is diddly squat I tell you. I woke up, it was the 27th of May. A day that was always slightly less crappy than my other days. I slowly rise from my bed, but something feels different. As I make my way to the kitchen, I get a face time call from my son. I hung up on him because the bloomin phone doesn't do what it should, and call him back. He informs me that he got a new job. I enquired what it was, as he informed me about his new position as a Director of Operations at an exquisite music label. I congradulated him, and eventually, he hung up, excited to brag about his new found position to others.\n\n\nIt's funny, we rarely speak these days, unless it's something he wants to talk about. He's been struggling to get anywhere for some time, then he got a girlfriend that just happened to be loaded. Lucky bastard son of mine got everything so easy after that. All because of that awards ceremony I lost out on a few years back....\n\n\nThen it all hits me. I only stuck around to make sure that everyone else got what was best for them. My son met the girl of his dreams at a presentation I was at, and if I didn't work for years towards my passion, that wouldn't have happened and he'd still be living week by week, rather than how he is now, planning vacations and such.\n\n\nI see now, that I accidentally caused my son happiness. This gives me a great sense of fulfillment. As if everything has clicked at once. What kept me here was hope, the desire to know how things end. Well, this is how it ends. The world is a rotten place, and my son is starting a happy family that looks to be doing quite well for themselves. This is more than I had, and I'm happy for them. I'm.... Happy...\n\n\nI write my final thoughts down on a piece of paper. After reading over it, and seeing exactly how cynical I am in evidence form, I decide to start again. My second letter is a little more balanced, I'd like to say. I leave it on my kitchen bench, leave the apartment without locking the door behind me, and head to the elevator with a smile. My neighbor is looking at me like an alien. It occurs to me that he's probably never seen me smile before. Oh well, he was a jerk, so I won't miss him at all.\n\n\nI take the elevator to the highest floor, disembarking and taking the stairs to the roof. I take a seat on the ledge, and look out over the building drenched horizon. I see smoke clouds, and I hear cluttered traffic below me. From the corner of my failing eyesight, I see a bird. I've always wanted to fly, but not just for the feel of wind in my face. The idea, the notion, that you can rise above the scum below, and be free from it all. I breathe in, finding my feet, and stretching my arms out.\n\n\nIt's not flying, but it's pretty close. From two wishes, I'm granting one and a half of them. I begin to lean forward off the sixteen story building, looking to the sky. I feel my body dropping as gravity takes a hold of me. I'm grinning immensely for the first time in my life, grinning so hard that I'm exercising muscles in my face I never knew I had. Then, everything seems to stop.\n\n\nI'm.... not falling. This confuses me. I open my eyes and look down to the traffic below. My feet are well pushed off the wall, I am in mid air, and yet.... I'm not falling. The feeling that I woke with this morning catches me, as I feel a power flowing through my body. I move my hand to the right, and my whole body moves with it. I sway in an upward direction, and my body levitates slightly higher than where it was. My grin may as well be plastered on at this stage, I didn't things could get much better.\n\n\nIt takes some time getting used to the notion of flying with no seemingly possible explanation, cause or effect, but I think for an old timer, I was doing pretty good. I fly around the buildings. Their roofs are all so incredibly dirty, and definitely need a good servicing. Like a bird, I rose above the scum, and towards the sky. It was pretty cold high up, but I didn't care.\n\n\nEventually, I felt myself losing feeling in my hands and feet. At the same time, I felt this new power was also leaving. I don't know how I knew it, but it was definitely a one-time deal. I'm just glad it got to me before it was too late. I used the last of my power to push myself into a cloud in the sky, and levitate there. It actually became pretty hard to breathe, so I decided to let go.\n\n\nSmiling more than ever, I let my cold, numb body go loose. It fell towards the ground, gaining immense speed. I was so high up, that it gave me time to reflect. I tried so hard to justify that my life was well spent, or enjoyable, but my cynical nature proved to be too much. All I could find solace in was my family finding greener pastures than I was blessed with, and my 70^th birthday. I fought power, and sought power all my life, because I was devoid of it. My 70^th birthday present was power. Power to do the incredible, Power to rise above and be free.\n\n\nI finally gained power.", "\"Happy birthday, Hun.\" As I turn over in bed to face my long time partner. I am greeted by a tray of steaming food slowly being placed on my waist.\n\n\"My favorite,\" I quietly exclaimed, sitting up, still half asleep. \"French Toast with strawberries and yawn mint water.\" She smiled. \"You're the big seven-o! How does it to feel to be one step closer to the grave?\" As she chuckled, I snarkily reminded her that she was closer than I was. \"In fact, I can almost smell the embalming fluid on you.\" She laughed.\n\nAs I finished my breakfast in bed, my wife of 32 years left and went back down stairs to the kitchen to clean up the left over mess. As I start to roll out of bed, I hear our cat's bell jingle. \"Hey, Genevra!\" I yell towards the doorway. \"Have you looked at the cat's date lately?\" \"No,\" she quickly replied, as I heard the squeak of the kitchen spout turn on. \"I'll check his date later.\" After hearing her response, I quickly realized how complacent I've become with her 6^th ability, the ability to read the death date of all living thing's. I got dressed and took my tray of plates and utensils down stairs. \n\nShe described her 6^th ability to me one time. She said it was just numbers that floated above living creature's heads in the classic month, day, and year order. Although, those numbers were always changing depending on the decisions people made. One time as a young girl, she watched a man's date change to the very next day moments after he had hung up the phone inside a telephone booth. Ever since then, she has only used her 6^th ability selectively. Mostly on her pets to ease the pain of them passing on. \n\nAs I past her in the kitchen and placed a small peck on her gray head, I wondered if I would live to ever see my 6^th ability emerge. Hell, at this pointed I'd take a commoner's enhanced 5^th ability. Some super strength would come in handy at this old age. I would finally have the strength back in my hips and I wouldn't be so slow moving around. \nMost humans get an enhanced 5^th ability. Smell, sight, that sort of thing. But some are blessed with a 6^th ability. Those powers that don't come from one of the 5 senses. And no human has ever been recorded of dieing without one of the two abilities at some point in their life. I walk into the living room to search for the TV remote when suddenly, someone pounded on my front door.\n\n\"Mark, Mark! Are you home?! Hurry, open up!\" The voice muffled by the door sounded familiar. I cracked open the door and to my surprise, I saw an old acquaintance of mine. \"Billy,\" I confusingly stated while opening the rest of the door. \"What are you doing here? I recall paying you to silently stay away.\" He looked a bit shorter than I remember, with hair peaking out of his nose, a raisin for a bald head, and waring dirty old baggy clothes on. The last 30 years were not as kind to him. Maybe that was my ability I thought. \"I wouldn't come if it wasn't important Mark.\" He urged in a shushed tone. \"Talk to me out here for a moment.\" As he stepped away from the door and walked towards the front of my garage. I turned to the kitchen and lifted my voice, \"Hey Hun, I gotta talk to this guy for minute. I'll just be out front.\" I didn't wait for a response as I shut the door behind me and hobbled toward Billy. He looked nervous, obviously something was amiss. \n\n\"I'll make this quick Mark. You don't have much time.\" As he said this, he raised his hand and started to rub his temple and told me something I never thought I would hear. \"The FBI have located you, partner. Someone saw the story about you on America's Most Wanted and turned in a tip.\" Time seemed to have stopped. By now his hand moved from his temple to my shoulder. In the past, I would of never allowed him to touch me. With his ability, every time he touched someone, he gained random knowledge from the person he was in-contact with. But this moment was different from any other. \n\nHe quickly reeled his hand back and I regained my composer. \"How did you find out? I asked. \"The last working connection I have inside the Bureau contacted me yesterday. I drove all night from Portland to tell you. I couldn't risk my safety over the phone to warn you.\" \"Luckily for you, Seattle isn't too far of a drive.\" I respond and turned to start to walking back inside. \"Wait,\" Billy exclaimed. \"That's it? You don't even seem scared.\" I turned my head back at him and replied, \"I've been prepared for this for the last few years now. I didn't think it would happen, but I'm ready. Take care Billy and get outta here.\" As I continued my walk back, I heard him mumble under his breath, \"Still the same asshole.\" \n\nI was inside when I heard his car engine start and take off.\nI quickly made my way to the stairs and went into my bedroom. The top drawer was my target. Inside was a Glock G17 that I quickly shoved into my waistline and made my way back down stairs and to the door. \"Gen,\" I shouted as I stepped out of the house. \"I'm going for a quick walk, I'll be back soon. Love ya.\" \"Love you too.\" And with that, I slowly shut the door and make my way to the sidewalk to look at my house, for the last time.\n\nThe memories came and went quick. We had lived in this house for 15 years. We traveled all over the world before settling here. I never stayed in one place for long. I started my walk away from home and headed towards downtown. It wasn't too far away. The sun had hid it's self behind dark grey clouds like it does on most days. As the suburban slowly started to turn into the city, I started to remember back to all the crimes Billy and I committed in our youth. With his ability to collect random information from people. We would set our mark on banks. He'd bump into, shake hands, or do anything to touch the most important heads of security until he gathered the information we needed as I broke in and stole the cash, or simply gave up and moved onto a different. Which made our hits so random, no police in any part of the world could keep up or predict where we would strike next. Law enforcement for years thought that I had an ability that world had never seen before. We stole millions over a nine year period. Than, I met Gen. I continued to steal and occasionally murder, when someone thought about being a hero. But I didn't want her to find out and the traveling salesman cover story was getting harder and harder to keep up. So Billy and I split the money and parted ways, to only move a state away from each other. \n\nAs my reminiscing concluded, I noticed was downtown near Pike's place. I could smell the fresh catch and see the crowd gathered around the men tossing fish across the booths to each other. I slip down an alley way. A short cut to The Pink Door I know for one last drink. \n\nI sit down. \"Chardonnay, please.\" I shout to the waiter walking towards me. He turns around and heads to the back. Never been much a whiskey guy, and I wasn't going to start today. That's when I see the FBI bust in through the front door. The lead agent is dressed in all black with FBI on the front in white screams, \"Mark Hamilton!\" Get on the ground, now! More agents pour in with guns drawn, all pointing at me. All dressed the same with helmets and body armor. I can only see just above the bridge of their nose and below the brow. Before they can get set and on their knees, I quickly pull out my Glock and point the barrel at my own temple. \n\nThe lead man lowers his gun and starts talking, but I can't hear a word he utters. All that I hear is the voice of Gen. All the memories flood back, and all but confirms I'm doing the right thing. I can't have her knowing that I did those things. I murdered many people and stole from many countries. At best, I can die in this shoot out and have her doubt that I actually did it. She'll think, \"They had the wrong man, my husband would never do those things. He was a good man!\" This this the best I can do, and I all I can hope for. The gun pointed at head is just to by time, to jog a last few memories before I turn this gun on the agents in front of me.\n\nAs I turn the Glock towards the agents still shouting, I notice one of the agents forearms are massive. He's also the first to squeeze his trigger along with myself, and yet, my trigger feels so heavy. Not because of age, (I had practiced shooting this gun last week.) All that was running through my mind, was the guilt of leaving Gen behind. \n\nMy trigger never gave. Only one shot was fired. I felt it pierce my forehead but I didn't feel any pain. I fall out of my chair and onto the floor as my eyes slowly closed, and all I could see was her smile. With tears stinging my eyes, I force them shut.\n\nTo my surprise, I reopened my eyes. I saw watery agents looking at me still in their knelled positions. \"They must of just grazed me.\" I assumed. I quickly get up and see multiple bullets fly into my chest. \"It's over.\" I mumble to myself as my body falls backwards and hits the floor once more, just to lay there in an unspeakable amount of pain. I see my blood everywhere and some brain matter from the first shot. That's when the rest of my intact brain puts together what's going on.\n\nHappy birthday to me. \n\nI had passed out from the pain and came to wearing cuffs and a body chain which is strapped down to the van carrying me. After a few silent moments. I started to laugh. The agents look at me funny, as my laugh grew louder and louder to this thought: What would of Gen saw if she had looked at my date? ", "At least it wasn't something mundane. \n\nPeople like to feel sorry for me, like I'm crippled or something. \n\nPfft. I've lived a decent, normal life - so what if I didn't have a power? I still grew up, went to college, got married, and did everything a normal guy would.\n\nIf you wanna feel sorry for someone, feel bad for the people who can remotely flush toilets, or turn into a rock, or change the channel without a remote or something.\n\nMe? At least I had hope that when I got my power, it'd be badass.\n\nAnd I got it, too, though I think I've given the orderly a heart attack.\n\nI can set myself on fire, like the human torch. How fucking cool is that?\n\nKind of shitty that I'm not fireproof, though.\n\nFuck.\n\n", "I still remember the News Reports as a child All the Men that are paid to watch the sky warned us of this day. A meteorite about the size of Delaware was approaching are planet. This Meteor seemed to come out of no where but as many scientist would explain it could have come from any of the 60 percent of unobserved space. Regardless of its Origins it was closing in. That is when all the great minds of the world got to together and decided to do nothing. It seemed the meteor despite its great size and threat would by all accounts miss our planet just by the distance of the moon or two. That night when it passed by our earth me and my parents all sat on our roofs and watched as the night sky became illuminated by the biggest comet you will ever see. And many even the experts thought that would be the end of it. \n\nThe powers began to show up almost immediately. At first they where small almost inconvenient the power to stick to walls or to look at two places at once. Then the big ones started to show up, the ability to fly, speed, and strength. Then their was the Oddball abilities like walking on water or instantly melting ice. My wife had a power like that she could clean water with a touch of her hand. The scientist didn't really have an explanation but the consensus was that the Meteor that had just missed our planet years earlier seems to have given every man, woman, and child on the earth powers or at least those alive at the time. Newborns didn't seem to get this powers. I watched and grew up as every child hood friend, relative , and acquaintance got a power but not me. Some say it was a gift to be normal in a world full of the strange. I felt like an outsider until i met Karen. Karen my wife made me feel like I did have powers. Then she discovered h er's. Her power consumed her life after that. It started with Trips with the red cross to devastated regions places where water supply was compromised. She was like a angel from God to those people even with the powers they had Clean water was invaluable. Then she started to go on her own eventually she moved To these countries never coming home at all. I tried to follow her to live with her but it became clear she only had room In her life for one love and it wasn't me. I think last i heard she was in remote location of china helping Villagers clean their underground water supply after it had been contaminated by toxic runoff from a power plant. That was years ago now i was an old man. I never remarried never had the heart to do it. No bastard children running around either I was alone. That is when i felt the pain in my chest on the eve on my 70 birthday. I tried to call for help but the ever growing pressure and pain in my chest seemed to catch the words and stuff them back in my mouth. This is how it would end an unremarkable life in a most remarkable time if i could do it all over again how I would change the world. Then I blackout, when i awoke I felt the strangest sensation my body was tingling from head to toe. I headed for the Restroom having the need to empty the contents of my stomach. I didn't even realize my clothes where way to big for me as i stumbled in. After I regain my composure I looked at myself in the mirror to find a young 20 something man looking back. I looked at my hands to find these where the hands of a young man and after further inspection i found that all of my other faculties had followed suit. That when i realized my powers had finally manifested itself I was a the physical embodiment of the phoenix to regenerate upon death. \n\nThe experts believe that the Meteor will come back. It will take some time it has to loop around the sun a couple more times should be about 70 years from now. By then all of the ones gifted with abilities should be gone and the age of heroes with them. How wrong they are.", "The world had been in disaray for as long as I could remember, and that had been a long time - 69 years, 11 months, and 29 days to be exact. Ever since the event infused humanity with powers, the world had fallen apart. Rampant crime and terror had overtaken the planet as villains become supervillains, and heroes became complacent. No one wanted to be an accountant when they could save the planet, nobody wanted to work at a power plant when they could travel through time as easily as the rancid air that all on the planet breathed. But in the chaos of the world, the only rule was that the power always came before the 50th birthday. Except in my case. And although the people lived forever, and fought wars forever, were sick forever, and watched their society crumble forever, immortality to all had always been seen as the blessing that came after the Event.\n\nOnly I could see it as it was - the fence that kept the people in the cage that the God that had either failed them, played a cruel game on them, or been killed by the humans he raised so high that they could only fall long ago. They were all rats in a cage. All but me.\n\nAnd so, on my 70th Birthday, I finally gained my power. I awoke. I breathed. I saw. I breathed. I saw. And so I chose, I used my power, and I died. ", "For more than thirty years, I lived my life day by day, awaiting that fateful day when I would be granted my own inner power. I saw my friends, family, strangers, all given the most precious thing in life. Lucy, my sweet dear sister, was able to fly to the heavens and back. Richard, my childhood best friend, saved hundreds of lives throughout his life, having the strength of ten men. And there I waited, for years, until my life could start, and I would transform into the real me...the powerful me. \n\nYet, with each passing day, more people would discover their power, and I would sit waiting at night, forcing myself to sleep. My dreams were filled with possibilities, of flight and strength, and of mind and hope. But as the years passed, my dreams were less vivid. Not everyone is lucky enough to have their inner power. Some die before that beautiful gift is bestowed unto them. I thought that may happen to me. And I lived life for a while, depressed and alone. That was until I met her. Her name was Alison. \n\nShe had a power, but chose not use it. She did not want to be defined by her single ability. We met during one of my travels, when I was touring the country trying to find meaning in life. I found it. I found her. From that point on, my life started. I did not care about being granted a special ability as much as I cared for her. I saw my future, a family, a wife, children. We created a beautiful life together. \n\nAlison passed away a few years ago. I had only asked her once what her power was, and she had told me it did not matter. As she was lying on her bed, slowly fading away, she told me what her inner power was. She said she was born with her power, that she had the ability to live forever, as long as she did not love. \"My power was a curse, until I found you\", she told me before she passed.\n\nToday is my 70th birthday. Today I have discovered what my power is. Old age has not been kind on me, and this is the most beautiful power I could have hoped for. When I remember my wife, the times we spent, they are not just memories any longer. I can feel the brisk of the air on the hill where we first met. I can smell the flowers. I can here her giggle, her breath against my cheek. In the little time I have left on this planet, I experience her love all over again.", "Call me crazy, but when someone jumps off the Golden Gate Bridge, you expect them to die.\n\nAt least most of the time, that is. If it’s not the impact that does them in, they’ll drown for sure. They are exceptions – I’m aware of these more than most – but I didn’t expect to be one.\n\nYet, as I drifted to the bottom of the San Francisco Bay, I realized that it would be my luck. All I wanted to do was go out on my own terms after seventy whole years of this bullshit. Apparently, fate had other plans.\n\nI try to flail my arms but they are useless. I never learned how to swim. I’m not doing much more than wasting more energy in a pointless attempt to surface.\n\nThe water grows colder, causing me to shiver. Each inhalation freezes my insides, the feeling of needles pricking my lungs. Yet, I still don’t die. It just hurts like hell.\n\nYou know, if you asked me where I thought I’d be at the ripe age of seventy, I wouldn’t say this. I expected to be surrounded by family and loved ones, watching my grandchildren grow up into their powers. Little did I know, I didn’t even grow into my powers myself.\n\nI was branded a Dud, the same as everyone else who hadn’t gained their power by thirty. Some Duds got lucky, though. A had a buddy in my support group who finally got his at around forty-four. Another lady in the news got hers at sixty-two.\n\nBut at seventy, I got the hint. God, or whatever not-so-benevolent force out there, has been sending me a pretty clear message for decades now. I was a mistake and had to live out my miserable life constantly reminded of so.\n\nMy family disowned me.\n\nMy wife left me for a super speed freak.\n\nEven my own kid acted like I had jumped off a bridge years ago.\n\nSo I said enough was enough. I decided to end my eight decades of living off with a bang. I always like the Golden Gate Bridge, anyway. It was one of the few places that cleared my mind.\n\nNow, I’m not so sure. My mind is buzzing as my body is being pressed with a fuckton of water. I’m at the bottom now, I think. It doesn’t feel like I’m sinking anymore.\n\nI sigh, or at least try to with a body full of water. Why did I have to discover my immorality now of all times? Oh well, I guess I better start learning how to swim. This is going to take a while.\n\nHappy fucking birthday to me.", "The sound of a foghorn alarm startled me awake, and I slammed my hand across it in response. It moved a few inches across the table. I hate that damned thing, I thought. My third wife had bought it for me some forty years ago. The thing worked like a Nokia phone, though.\n\nI slowly leaned out of my bed, careful to grab the hand-rail. I wasn't as spry as I used to be, for sure. I missed my fifties, like I had missed my twenties only twenty years ago. Time had taken an axe to my perspective, I whined to myself, downing a few of my morning med's.\n\nAnd FUCK me if I take a pill to get hard, I grumbled. Today was a bad day.\n\nI clicked on the TV, my only companion. The first thing was the news, with that stupid haircut guy, Ron Bullreed. He could float, or some other stupid shit. And he had hair. \n\nSome people have all the luck.\n\nThe lady-anchor had hair, too, long and blonde and full of pomp. She read minds, I think. Some funny interviews with her and politicians. And what a doll!\n\nThey were doing some exposé on a super-villain turned dictator successfully running a country, with a live feed on his speech. The people in front of him were literally becoming zombies, and the camera crew had censored his mouth and muted his words.\n\n\"Earlier today, Dr. Dread announced his plans for taking over the entire southern half of South America,\" Ron said in his nasally voice, arms folded and legs criss-crossed as he floated in the air. Some Ali-Baba shit right there.\n\n\"But more importantly, is Oprah coming back? FROM THE DEAD? Find out tonight at 7 whether the Beauty Doctor can resurrect history's most important woman!\" ... Had I just **king heard that? They were going to air Oprah being pulled out of a coffin over a dictator taking over South America? With zombies?\n\nI pointed my finger at Ron as he blabbed on about tornadoes or something.\n\"Listen to me, you silly sack of scrotes,\" I began, \"I wish you would slam your head into your stupid, shiny desk until you dented the desk and* your forehead. I wish you would take that stupid pink tie and BEG someone to choke you with it. I WISH YOU WOULD **KIN' DIE.\"\n\nHe did, too. He did everything I told him too, in order. I'd never seen anything like it, and neither had anyone in the studio. Most powers weren't this aggressive, or this powerful. After he'd finished hammering his face into the desk, he went up to Blondie. She choked him for about two seconds \n\nbig smile on her face, too\n\nand he promptly died.\n\nI immediately resolved to force resurrected Oprah to kill everyone in sight. My power would be used strictly for good. ", "Jeremy threw open the door of my room with a hurricane force wind that he conjured. \"Up and at 'em! It's a bright sunny day, I made sure of it!\" \n\nI rolled over in my bed and covered my face with my pillow. \"Go away, Jeremy.\" No matter how many times I remind him, he can't help but rub his powers in my face. I get it. You control the weather. You have a congressional medal of honor for alleviating that big drought. Shut up about it.\n\nMost people are more sensitive. I seem to be the only one here at Sandy Palms Retirement Home who hasn't* discovered their power. Even the janitor is nice about it, but I still see him snickering as he cleans my toilet with his water controlling. \"It'll come,\" everyone tells me with a sympathetic shoulder pat. Then they fly off to go do something amazing and heroic. How awesome for them.\n\nI'm used to it, though. I've dealt with this my whole life. In 6th grade, Sam Elston got his powers: invisibility. He was the first one; it has something to do with puberty allowing the gene to express. I don't remember how all the science works. Sam would regale us with tales of sneaking into the girls locker room, or taking bottles of beer from the local grocery store. Sam was the man. Everyone wanted to be him.\n\nBy high school, something like a quarter of the school had their powers. I cruised through classes, not really studying or paying particularly close attention. All I could think about were powers. I only got by with the help of Sanjeet, whose power was memory retention and speed-reading. The Ultimate Bookworm, he called himself. Once he memorized most of the library, I never had to worry about another paper or presentation again. \n\nOn graduation day, more than half the people had presented. Erin Adams zipped across the stage with her super speed, sending the principal's hat flying off in a gust of wind. Louis Han was too big and muscular to even fit into the photo with the principal, so the yearbook just had a photo of his brawny chest and cut off at the neck. I, however, was still powerless. Sanjeet, of course, got into every college that he wanted, while I stayed home and went to community college. For plumbing. How thrilling and exciting.\n\nAnd that's basically how the rest of my life went. I fixed pipes for the powerful, glamorous superbeings around me. Luckily no power ever revolved around swapping out corroded components for new valves, otherwise I would have been out of business like so many others. Every day, more and more people I knew would realize their gift. They went on to do amazing things. Linda's heat vision made her an amazing miner who could bore through rocks with surgical precision. Andy's ability to miraculously grow plants made him the biggest farmer in the whole county; who would have thought that we could grow avocados in Wisconsin? I just waited and waited for my turn to come. And it never did.\n\nSo I retired. I moved down to Florida, away from everyone I knew. I just wanted to live out the rest of my days swimming in the warm waters of the Gulf and forgetting all about superpowers.\n\n\"Come on,\" Jeremy persisted, blowing open my window and sending my blankets and sheets flying across the room. \"I'm bored. Let's hit the surf!\" He liked to pretend he was still young, though the nice young nurse here with the Rejuvenation power did help quite a bit.\n\nI finally relented and met him out on the blindingly bright beach a few minutes later. Maybe he had a point; a swim would do me good. I shuffled foward across the hot, white sand, zigging and zagging to take advantage of the brief shady cover of beach umbrellas. I could practically hear my feet sizzling.\n\nFinally, I reached the ocean, gently lapping against the shore. I stuck a foot into the water, ready to relieve my burning soles.\n\nThe water was... hard. Like glass. I looked down; my foot was resting on the water. I felt a weird tingling sensation as the tide pulled the water away again and my toes dug into the sand as it receded. What the...\n\nAnother wave came. I took another step into it, and the same thing. My foot just stayed on the surface. I took another few steps forward till I got about ten feet out. The water around me seemed to calm, giving me a pretty steady base to walk around.\n\nI can walk on water, I realized.\n\n\"Hey!\" Jeremy yelled from a few feet behind me, \"You did it! Your power manifested!\"\n\nAll this time I've waited...\n\nI couldn't help but laugh. \"I moved to fucking Florida,\" I told Jeremy. \"All the way across the fucking country to enjoy my retirement by the ocean. So that I could just swim in that famous Florida surf every day. And this is the shit that I get!\"" ]	11
	[WP] The rest of the population forgets the previous day each night. Welcome to the Alzheimer's loop.	[ "The human mind is surprisingly resilient and fragile at the same time. Apply stress or pressure one way and it wouldn't give one inch for a thousand years. But apply even a fraction of that pressure in a completely different way and the mind can break like an egg hit with a sledgehammer. But the true wonder is that even the shattered mind might adapt over time, as if it were drawing on that resilience which was absent previously. \n\nOf course in the case of a virus infecting an overwhelming majority of the world's inhabitants and crippling the areas of the brain that work on short-term memory proved to be a great test of the human mind's resilience and ability to adapt. As luck would have it, the sheer scale of all human kind being infected did mean that a percentage was latently immune to the affects on memory. \n\nBut this genetic quirk proved to be its own great test of human resilience. Because in the days that followed the spread of this virus, those left unaffected became caretakers for thousands, even millions. There was very little information on what exactly on the genetic level lead to the immunity, or even how a virus was able to span the globe in a matter of months. Governments collapsed overnight, though there was no one to impeach them or armies to invade now vunerable nations. Turns out you can't conduct a dawn raid if your soldiers forget their training once they sleep. Even then they would forget the issue of sleeping. And so the issues piled up.\n\nIf memory serves right (no pun intended), it was at least a month before those unaffected began making contact with one another and pieced together what had happened. In that month and many more to follow the human population was reduced quite quickly. Urban areas were centers of chaos, so much of the infrastructure relied on constant maintenance and supervision; water stopped flowing as there were insufficient numbers to work the utilities. To put it simply; imagine all the things that must be done to keep young children safe from the dangers of the average household. This wasn't the same but there were a great number of tragically simple accidental deaths that occured after 'The Reset'. Or at least the first of many. \n\nAfter that the fatal accidents were less frequent, but soon after, those with serious chronic health issues slowly and painfully fell to their illnesses, unaware of how limited their time was. As 'keepers' met up across the planet, they tried to reorganise, build infrastructure, some semblence of the old world. But each morning they would have to wake to screams of panic, fires burining, even the occasional gunshot or explosion. Turns out it's difficult to rebuild society and keep it's forgetful inhabitants intact at the same time.\n\nBut human beings are stubborn, and resourceful. Day by day, night by night, the keepers tended to the 'flocks'. Some objected to using a term reserved for sheep to label rational human beings, but as time dragged on, they felt the strain of repeating each day like the infected, only to bear the scars and trauma that this new world created in it's cyclical nightmare.\n\nOne such keeper was Tom, he had volunteered to watch over the 'flock' that was still imprisoned at a supermax facility nearby to the surprisingly busy town he and other keepers had adopted in Texas. Each morning he would be tasked with getting on the prison's PA system to inform the prisoners of the current issue. It was in a way cruel, but the keepers had decided to review the prisoner logs to see who could be let out and who had to stay. From it's pre-Reset numbers the prison was pratically empty, only a dozen inmates remained. Tom spent a portion of his day checking up on them and, from time to time, talking to them. He found that he got along very well with Harold, a bespectacled man in his 50s, who enjoyed trying to solve the rubik's cube Tom had given to him one day.\n\nEach day Harold lamented at his situation, but with boredom he turned his attention to the cube. For weeks Tom watched as Harold repeated the same strategy, never quite solving it before succumbing to sleep. You could set your watch by the patterns in Harolds attempts to solve the cube. He would begin twisting and turning at 9:43AM, by 5:12PM he would have nearly solved four sides and was beaming with happiness at his progress. He would finally give in to sleep at 1:22AM, blissfully unaware of how he might dread the call to slumber had he known.\n\nOne day, Tom stopped by, it was a particularly stressful day; last week a prisoner had nicked themselves on a loose screw, which turned to tetnus after a few days. On the fourth they lay shaking with fever and terror as Tom and the resident medic frantically tried to search for a sign of infection. They spotted the cause too late to administer antibiotics and instead had to help with the man's passing. He drifted into his final sleep having been sedated just before dawn. Tom walked the halls of the prison with the weight of guilt on his shoulders, the prisoner had been the architect of one of the bloodiest home invasions in recent history, but still Tom felt that he should have saved the man.\n\nHe stopped by Harold's cell as if craving normalcy again, but what he found was anything but. There sat Harold with the cube like any other day, but instead of the familar scattering of coloured squares, was five sides of uniform order. It was 07:05 AM and Harold shouldn't even be looking at the cube, much less solving it. Tom stared at Harold, who himself stared back at this stranger peering into his cell. After a minute he returned to the cube. Tom ran back to the medic and brought him to witness.\n\nIn the following days they watched with rapt fascination as Harold picked up the cube earlier and earlier after waking. This was not mear muscle-memory, there was something different. Here, sat before them in a barren cell, a once infamous child serial killer, showed the glimmer of hope for humanity.", "You know, I think the retail employees handle it best. Every morning without fail, they’re always there stocking shelves and running the checkout. I imagine a lot of them never even notice half the time. I bet they get up, go to work, go home, and back to bed and don’t even give the day a second thought. They’re stuck in Groundhog Day and they don’t even realize. Good for them.\n\nThe rest of us aren’t so lucky, and yes, I do group myself with the others on this point. I’m not exactly some important person or anything. I can’t fix any of it, and even though I still remember the progression of days, weeks, months, I’ve no more understanding of why than anyone else. I gave up trying to explain myself to news media, or the government, they always just give me a headache. Plus that one time I had to sneak out of a military base in the early hours of the morning. That was loads of fun. So I just resigned to stay quiet. \n\nLately, I mostly go about my day like normal. I sleep in and wait for the world to finish freaking out a bit, they usually blame it on some sort of astral-solar interference or whatever. At least the media does, very rarely do government officials weigh in. Which is kinda weird. Maybe they prefer not to start a global panic without knowing anything first? Who knows? Certainly not me. Or even them, come tomorrow. \n\nIt’s been pretty odd, and often scary to be the only one who remembers yesterdays, but once I accepted the fact I’ve found it to be kinda freeing. I can do or say most anything I want, minus the really extreme stuff. I travel as much as I want. Sure, I’ve done some petty crime, and made use of my memory for personal gain, but nothing too terrible. Nothing that would stand out above the usual chaos, at least. \n\nIt’s amazing how well the world still functions in 24 hour increments. People are good at adapting, and society hasn’t just fallen into ruin. But things are changing. The first month, everyone was just confused. People simply got the days mixed up, it wasn’t the 4th, it was the 14th. How silly. But it’s been almost six months now. But children still grow. And people still die. And I really can’t imagine how it feels to wake up next to someone you’ve never met in a city halfway across the world, or to wake up and realize you’re suddenly six months pregnant. Eventually, the changes are going to be too much. Everything will be so drastically altered from “yesterday” that the world will start to really fall apart.\n\nAnd it wasn’t until today when I finally had the most terrifying thought of all. One that is ultimately motivating my next actions. I was lucky for not thinking of it before. After so many years, almost everyone who remembers the passing of time will be gone. And who will be left? The children. The poor wretched children who have never and will never know a past, who will never be able to accomplish anything more than the most basic instincts. Animals don’t have a concept of time, but they have memory. They learn from their parents, or from their past mistakes, all but the most basic creatures have some sort of memory. But the timeless children will not. They will be more helpless than any other creature. The human race will fall hard and fast, and I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be around to watch that happen. I just can’t. So I won’t.\n" ]	2
Whatever your biggest fear is you must make the character overcome to save the person you love. Edit. To get to him or her, sorry I just saw that.	[WP] The love of your life is trapped and moments from death. In order to get to her, you must confront your biggest fear.	[ "I stood there, paralyzed. My heart beat a million miles a minute, each beat sounding like a thunderclap. In between her and me was it. It just stood there, looking at me with that look on its face. There was no way to deny who it was. Yet it couldn't be. It just wasn't fair.\n\nI had always done my best to live a good life. To be god-fearing and always treat her right. Yet standing in front me was the who had come to take one thing away, to make me choose one way or another. How could I save her, knowing the consequences? I feel to the ground and sobbed.\n\n\"Fine, take it. I don't care as long as she is free to go. I sell you my soul.\" In front of me, the devil cackled as I lost my faith and she was free to ascend.", "When I fell in love I never thought I would have to defend that love like this.\n\nAs I stand here, watching her teetering on the edge, I wonder how it got like this.\n\nWhen I used to look at myself in the mirror I wouldn't feel frightened, but now it's different.. My reflection screams betrayal, betrayal of my own actions. So here I stand, in front of the love of my life, the keys to her heart lying within my hand, the same they were the day we met, and I'm frozen.\n\n\"All I have to do is get to her\" kept echoing through the corridors of my frozen mind. But that would mean...\n\nNo. Entertaining this idea is almost as scary as... What? What am I so afraid of? All I need to do is reach out to her, but that's the problem isn't it? \n\nThis thing that eats away at me, even with the love she gives me, will be enough to plague my thoughts long after she's gone.. But I cannot think like that, she's still here right?\n\nAll I have to do is act.. NOW. But what if... Again, the question rings louder than words. No man should experience such dread in the face of love.\n\nIt was then that the apprehension made sense, it was then that my mind began to paint a picture of what my fear is, but not quite clearly enough, for the sorrow I feel only clouds my mind. It's as if I am terrified of commitment. Love itself has flung me into a state of inaction. The thought of being happy, being wanted, being responsible for anothers affection... It's... It's beautiful.. \n\nBut as I stand here in the ER, only a door between me and the love of my life, knowing that she doesn't have long.\n\nI cannot get over my fear of loss...\n\n\n\n\nEDIT: Didn't see that the fear had to be overcome.", "I sneaked another glance. She was still there, just around the bend.\n\nI should just leave her. I could find someone else. It wasn't worth it. But it wasn't just about her. It was about me too. I had to, I needed to.\n\nI licked my lips. Don't think. They were watching me. My head hurt. I took another peek.\n\nShe was still there, still not moving. But somehow I knew that if I didn't go it would be too late. Still, everything in my head screamed, \"Leave! Leave! Run!\" Pushing it all aside, I took a deep breath and a hesitant step forward. Even without looking I could feel their eyes, all around me, searing hot. Blood pounded. My hands trembled.\n\nI couldn't do it. It was too much. She wasn't worth it. I turned to leave...our eyes met. She looked calm, puzzled even. Ah, shit. I took a step. Two steps. I was running. I couldn't feel the other eyes anymore, just hers. One bright line between us and all else faded to dark. \n\nThen she was there. I could reach out and grab her. She continued to look, unwavering, half curious and half questioning. My mind sought to protest, but drawn by the momentum of my own actions, I opened my mouth.\n\n\"Hi. What's your name?\"", "\"I can't lose you!\" I screamed desperately. She was everything thing to me; the only person who had ever shown me affection. \"Let go!\" She howled back at me, screeching in pain. \n\nNo. I wouldn't let her go, she had to make it, she had to make it for me, I needed her. \"Please, let me go!\" she begged weakly. She had to make it, even if she was in pain, she had to stay strong, I couldn't let her go, I couldn't live without her. Suddenly she locked her teary eyes to mine and spoke softly, \"Please,\" she said, \"let me go.\"\n\nI was being selfish, I couldn't force her to hang on and live in pain just so I was to weak to go on without her. \n\nI let go of her hand and she fell into the blackness. I couldn't believe it, she was gone, and I was alone. I would be alone for the rest of my life. I had done the right thing though, right? I could live in a quiet loneliness at least, right? At least my conscious would be at peace...\n\n\"Catch me!\" her voice echo'd from above. I looked up, she was falling from the sky in a long ribbon'd dress. I oriented myself under her as she fell into my arms, light as a feather.", "Whenever Melanie is bored, you can guarantee she’ll be on Pinterest. She blamed me for getting her addicted to it, but I’m convinced that she would have found it on her own, eventually. Melanie is a magnet for kitsch. Our apartment is overflowing with mason jars that Melanie swears she needs. Plenty of our friends are getting married, having babies, and apparently in dire need of “cookie-in-a-jar” kits. Her enthusiasm translates online, too. I think the number of her followers in something in the thousands. Melanie lives on the Pinterest app.\n\nThat’s why I was surprised when she didn’t pick up her phone when I got off work. I was planning on going to the grocery store, and I always call to see if she needs anything. I ended up just going to the store anyway, and got the call just as I was loading up the car. I didn’t catch all of the words. Something something…hit and run…something something…critical condition.\n\nI did my best to dry my face before I entered the hospital. The receptionist could still tell that I’d been crying, I’m sure. She told me that I couldn’t see Melanie. That I had to go to the waiting room.\n\nI figured that if I’d been called, her family had been, too. I was right. They were all seated next to each other, sobbing and huddling and whispering. I’d never met them before, but I recognized Melanie’s big green eyes in her mother, and the jet black hair of her father and siblings. All the pieces of her were scattered among these people, strangers to me. I sat far away from them.\n\nIt took a long time for the doctor to come tell the family that Melanie was in stable enough condition for visitors. They stood and rushed to him, hungry for more details. Was she alright? How badly had she been hurt? Would she fully recover?\n\nThe doctor said she had lost a lot of blood. She'd been hurt pretty badly, and whether or not she'd make it through would depend on how her body healed the internal injuries. He gestured to them to follow to her room. Without thinking, the words escaped my mouth.\n\n“Wait for me.”\n\nI didn’t realize my mistake until they all turned to look.\n\n“I’m sorry, only family is allowed,” the doctor told me. Melanie’s mother looked sympathetic. Her father looked ahead and took a step forward, as if the matter were settled. My hand was still in the air, outstretched, betraying my intentions to say more, though I knew I couldn’t. Suppression and silence were all I was used to for so long that being here, being seen, was so foreign. I couldn’t possibly insist.\n\nBut Melanie would want me to. If a death scare wasn’t enough to prompt me, then what? Was I supposed to wait for Melanie to actually die? Until I was left with my memories and her collection of mason jars? I know what Melanie wants, and I’ve denied her for a long time. Because I’m a coward. Because I want to be safe in our little bubble of others’ ignorance, where nobody can tear what we have apart. Where we’ve been so safe for all these years.\n\nBut she needs me.\n\nCertainly that was all that mattered. So I said it.\n\n“I’m her wife.”" ]	5
	[WP] A zombie apocalypse story told from the perspective of a zombie.	[ "There isn't an inch on my body that doesn't hurt. I walk all day and all night, my joints and muscles (what's left of them) feel like they're ready to give out at any minute, but I don't stop. I can't stop. I have no control over where I go. Any noise louder than a cricket attracts my body's attention and off I go making a beeline for whatever poor thing made that noise. I should taken myself out when I had the chance, this is torture. Being surrounded by hundreds of people all in the same excruciating situation, and not being able to interact in anyway, the only contact with other people is the lazy and mindless bumping around when we try to get through a door way. I understand that it's impossible for me to be saved, Even if I could somehow regain control of my boy I would collapse from pain, and since I'm already dead there is no way for me to recover from my injuries. I only hope I catch up with a group of survivors, so they can make this end.", "Brains. I bang my head once again at the door. I don't remember why. Brains. In the inside. A familiar face. Brains.\n\nA woman. Brains. I try to remember. Who is she? Brains? A word travels through me. Wife. Brains. Inside, Wife is arguing with Brains. I don't understand their words, but I still hear them. Brains.\n\n\"No. My husband isn't even cold.\"\n\n\"I don't mean now. But sooner or later...\"\n\n\"And how much time do you think we have? We have enough water for like a week tops. \"\n\nWater? Tops? Brains.\n\n\"And no weapons thanks to...\"\n\nShe slapped him. Brains.\n\n\"He fucking died for your sorry ass! Show some fucking gratitude.\"\n\n\"Yeah, he got himself killed. Great.\"\n\nShe slapped him again. Brains.\n\n\"I would rather sleep with my husbands rotting corpse than with you.\"\n\n\"Oh, really, let's invite him inside then!\", he said, moving towards the door Brains. Brains.\n\n\"You fucking...\"\n\n\"Hey Ben, come inside. Bella wants to have sex with you! It.. didn't fall of, right.\"\n\n\"If I still had the Gun...\"\n\n\"Well but you don't!\", he said, turning around suddenly. The nails securing the door loosened. He cornered her. \"And I'm kind of sick of your attitude right now.\"\n\nShe tried to slpa him again. But he punched her instead. Brains. The door began giving way.\n\n\"NO!\", she screamed as she struggled.\n\n\"This will hurt less if you don't struggle.\"\n\nBrains. I push harder. Brains. Brains.\n\n\"No, THE DOOR!\"\n\nBrains. Brains. I push in the Brains and wander towards the Brains. Brains.\n\n\"Fuck!\"\n\nBrains. Brains. Brains. Brains." ]	2
	[WP] With no warning, God has turned off Friendly Fire.	[ "I woke up hastily to my girlfriend pressing a pillow hard against my face. Had she forgotten that I slept with a gun under my own pillow? I pulled the my baretta out and shot her point blank in the chest. The news was on the T.v., with a reporter speaking about riots and chaos. As my soon to be ex-girlfriend bled out on the floor, i had one realization, I was happy. I was finally free.", "The sun was barely up this morning and the heat was already mounting. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck. \n\nFive days since the ambush. Five days we'd been pinned down here. Five days of constant fire from outside this tiny, concrete bunker. We weren't prepared for this, our small bit of rations had disappeared in the first couple days. There's been a barrel in the bunker which had some nasty, rusty water in it. We'd drank that, not having another choice, but it was gone now, too. \n\nI looked around at my four remaining men. Hope, like the last of our ammo, was almost gone. At this point we were probably assumed KIA and I didn't expect a rescue before we died of thirst or sniper fire. It galled me but I only saw one way out of this for my men. They were my responsibility and it was my duty to see them through this.\n\nI slide the strap of my rifle around, unseated the magazine, and slung it behind my back. Then I tied a white strip of cloth around my helmet.\n\nFour sets of eyes watched me in disbelief, yet no one said a word. I swallowed down my fear and stood up behind the wall. I leaned out towards the opening, making sure my white surrender flagged helmet went first, and then I slowly stepped out in to the open.\n\nRaising my hands in the air, I took a hesitant step forward. When no shots came, I took another, and another. \n\nThe enemy forces were arrayed out behind rocks, scrub, and vehicles in a semicircle around our hideout. A low hill nearby held at least one sniper that I knew of. Several faces, hidden behind desert wrappings, showed eyes staring at me with varying degrees of hate or disbelief. A low murmur of conversation was taking place among them, but I was too far way to hear.\n\nI cleared my throat and spoke.\n\n\"Hey! Don't shoot! I surrender!\", the words wanted to stick to my palette but I forced them out. However the more I spoke, the angrier the voices sounded on the other side. Two men in particular seemed to be in disagreement about something.\n\nI took another step forward towards the waiting enemy. Suddenly a shot rang out and I tensed in fear, waiting for the pain of the bullet, but the puff of dirt at my feet showed me that it was either a warning shot, or a miss.\n\n\"Don't shoot!\", I yelled, \"Surrender! I SURRENDER!\" but the shouts from the enemy line increased in a language I didn't understand. \"Don't you understand surrender?!, \" I shouted back as another shot hit the dirt in front of me, trying to find something they could understand, \"SURRENDER!! I'M NOT YOUR ENEMY! ON YOUR SIDE!\"\n\nJust then there was a loud retort from the direction of the hill, and something buzzed in to my helmet. The composite helmet could withstand small arms fire, but not a rifle round and I knew I was dead. However, instead of my head being snapped back and plastered all over the landscape, it merely felt as if someone had reached up and rapped it with a knuckle. \n\nI couldn't believe my luck. The round must've grazed my helmet by the narrowest of margins. Though even the shockwave from the bullet should've been more significant than that. I figured that would be the last of my luck, and dove to the size before the next shot could come. \n\nUnfortunately that was not an acceptable movement to the ones nearby, and as I hit the dirt gunfire immediately opened up all around me. I instinctively lay flat on the dirt, but the range was too close and I knew this time I was a goner.\n\nAll over my body I felt small slaps, just like the one on my helmet from the sniper round. I flinched involuntarily at each one, expecting searing pain to follow. The gunfire continued briefly but finally slowed and stopped altogether. I smelled the stink of the gunpowder in the air and realized all at once that meant I was still breathing. Somehow. \n\nI twitched, and tried to look down at my body for wounds. I didn't see any, but my movement touched off another few shots. Again I felt those odd little pokes but no pain, no blood, no death.\n\nIt was finally dawning on me that something unexplained was happening. I pushed myself up from the ground, first to my knees, and then to my feet. More gunfire erupted as I stood. Yet again I was unharmed. Another shot from the sniper on the hill, this one I felt as a slightly harder poke, right on the center of mass on my chest. I actually saw the spent round fall to the ground in front of me.\n\nI laughed.\n\nIt was ridiculous. I should be dead a dozen times over. There was no explanation. Even now, more shots rang out, though the volume of fire was starting to dwindle as they realized I wasn't dying. The gunfire slowed more and finally stopped. Most of the enemy at this point had stepped our from their concealment and were staring at me through the haze of smoke in astonishment. \n\nOne of their number, apparently not satisfied with my rude insistence at not dying, dropped his assault rifle, and pulled out a knife. It had an enormous curved blade, almost a small sword, and he screamed as he ran at me with the knife held high. I attempted to brace for the incoming strike, but he feinted to the side and then snaked in lightning fast. The sharp curved edge sliced first across my forearm which was trying to protect me. Then he slashed back around directly across my ribs, and then his last cut lashed upwards and across my neck.\n\nJust like the bullets from earlier, each strike felt no stronger than a slight tapping. Instead of being sliced open and lying dead on the ground, I was staring face to face with a surprised enemy soldier. \n\nI did not know what was happening, but I was certainly going to take advantage of it. I grabbed the hand holding the knife, and twisted it out of his grasp. Reversing suddenly, I tried to stab the pointed end of the curve in to his nearest shoulder.\n\nThe tip of the knife pushed against the fabric of his shirt and made a slight dimple underneath where it put pressure against the skin underneath. However it failed to penetrate either cloth or skin. I changed grip and tried a slicing attack much like his, but the sharp edge of the knife merely slid along his side as if it were less lethal than the dullest butterknife.\n\nWe stared at each other in mutual disbelief.\n\nto be continued..." ]	2
	[WP] Much like Bruce Wayne/Batman, you create a crime-fighting alter-ego based on your intense fear of...	[ "People.\n\nPeople are odd creatures. Usually caught up in schemes of one sort or another, distracting themselves long enough to make it to day's end. It's impressive really. Like a man who will spend ten minutes searching his house for a yardstick so he can flip the lights off from the comfort of his sofa. Then when they are free, they spend so much time on things they expect to forget that they rarely remember to live. What were the last six things you read? Did you really read it or was it stockpiled somewhere at the back of your brain between yesterday's breakfast and Thomas Jefferson's birthday.\n\nFour thousand years ago, this same man would be resting to heal up from his most recent debacle with a dingo. Now, he hopes seinfeld is on. Prays to hang out with George and Elaine and Kramer for a half hour with regularly scheduled commercial breaks. Then he gets to nine o'clock and all is well. The lights go down, the man tucks himself in, and he goes to dream of a time when he could do something more.\n\nAnd they are capable of so much more. They are among the most complex, if not the most complex, systems which exist. The social web of manners, strata, and irrational emotional politicking. It's shocking to witness the simple ins and outs that lead to a wedding and bombing occurring on the same street. Utterly foreign to any normal human comprehension. Like my day job some would say.\n\nYou see, I am a stereotype. Lost in a world of aliens. A stuttering IT worker mostly at war with the human element of coding. One which I usually feel I'm losing. Long hours of boredom interrupted by frantic, head-smashing frustration. I enjoy it though. Machines are simple. A machine understands only two things. One and zero. Yes and no. Right and wrong. A machine is understandable.\n\nBut people.\n\nPeople forget. People text lovers and then call their spouse back. People rob you blind in an alley and some of them will kill. Far too many will kill. Like you.\n\nOh don't act surprised, did you really think that blood was from a squirrel? Rodents don't carry backpacks.\n\nYou see, it's the complexity of people that makes them beautiful. Singing a song of love or carrying their best friend home from what was almost a wedding. It is a wonderful kind of strange that leaves one at peace. But that complexity lends itself to error. Snap decisions. Poorly timed admissions of truth. Rational and conscious decisions, guided by an unconscious awareness of the environment, to do evil. A man is capable of loving his girlfriend and seeing fit to kill another's. Only under special circumstances, you say correctly. But does it change the facts? That is what's truly terrifying.\n\nAvoiding such circumstances is difficult. Takes a great deal of study and preparation. Examination of value. I hint and nudge others onto the road I see for them. It's always for the better of things, though not always theirs. \n\nSo \"who the fuck\" am I, you ask? Some call me the programmer. Others, a sociopath. But really, I'm just a people person. \n" ]	1
	[WP] You participated in a teleportation experiment that left a million copies of you scattered around the world	[ "It has been two months since the experiment had gone wrong. Not completely wrong, mind you, but wrong enough to cause a problem. Sgt. Skylor Winters had been teleported from a lab in Los Angeles to San Francisco... and a million other places. One million copies of the same man scattered over the planet. \n\nIt was estimated that almost 40 percent of the copies had perished within a matter of days, those in Antarctica or the middle of the Pacific for example. That still left almost 600,000 Skylor Winters across the world. That wasn't the only thing that had gone wrong however. Well, if you could call it wrong. Each copy had a small defect, one little personality change that held them apart from the original. \n\nFor Sgt. Winters the First, at least that was what he was calling himself, the change was ambition. Just a small boost to his motivation, that was all it took for him to realize his dreams, and know how to bring them to fruition. Soon he would eliminate the Original, and then he could do anything. After all, 600,000 men is a large army. Perhaps he would start in Africa...", "They said that this was a possibility, when I agreed to participate, that the coordinates might not lock in and correctly and duplicates might result. It seems like they were off by a few orders of magnitude.\n\nI wasn't really involved in the phase field calibration, but with just over a million of me confirmed as reporting in, it's hard not to think about how many showed up over water and drowned. There's a reason the prep-kit they sent with me included a syringe of saxitoxin.\n\nIt was six weeks ago now. Any hope of keeping the experiment quiet was pretty well shot once they realized the scale of the event. The good news is that the company's stock is through the roof. The bad news that my 5% of the company doesn't go that far when it's split between 1,024,601 versions of me. We're all trying to get back to the United States. Most of us already have, but once the story broke worldwide, a lot of the countries where I... Where they? Where some of me ended up are holding up travel claiming that the passport in my prep-kit is a copy and not the original document. Which I guess is sort of true. \n\nLegal status is an ongoing nightmare. I'm living with a couple of me right now. I decided that was as many as I my house apartment could reasonably fit, and I guess unsurprisingly, the rest of me agreed. It's actually not that weird. I've always talked to myself; now there's just someone in the room while I do it. It's weird how quickly we stopped talking over each other. There are already behavioral psychologists studying how quickly we're becoming measurably different people.\n\nI'm kind of a celebrity. The weird part is that the public is already kind of sick of the story, because unlike with most news stories like this, there was no limit on the number of interviews I could give and appearances I could make. I haven't... I mean the original me (which oddly enough, we decided was the one who didn't get teleported), haven't done any press, but I was on four channels simultaneously one night a couple weeks ago.\n\nI guess I'm the only one who still has a job, but it looks like the rest of me will be able to find work as professional test subjects for the next few years at least. After that, maybe politics? If I'm doing the math right, I'm pretty much guaranteed a couple of sentate seats if we can move to the right districts." ]	2
Make sure to provide a link to your previous responses as reference to who they are.	[WP] Look back at your WP responses. Take two characters you've created from two different responses, then have them fight to the death.	[ "\"I am the Master of Death. Do you really think you could defeat me?\"\n\n\"You are a 20 year old male. I am the God of Porn.\"\n\n\"Wait, really?\"\n\n\"Yeah, no shit. Rule 34 and all that.\"\n\n\"Got anything on Death?\"\n\n\"There is a shit ton of snuff porn. I got this one called 'Girl meets horse'\"\n\n\"Not like that. Death is a person. I am literally her master. But she isn't exactly obedient. She just throws tantrums constantly.\"\n\n\"Ooooh. Rule 34 mate. Here.\"\n\nHe hands me a flash drive. 64 gigs.\n\n\"It's filled. Go forth and fap.\"\n\n\"If you ever die, you are going to have an awesome afterlife. Thanks man!\"", "\"Pray tell, boy; why must we compete so? Our strength is drawn from words alike - our purpose so intertwined. Omniglot, bridge on which all ideas cross and all tongues chatter about I am built. Bane of your government you are created, an unimaginative use of a brilliant gift from our shared Creators. Your kind is known for its blatant fratricide, aye, but lunacy is not its hallmark, child.\"\n\nThe Omniglot stood tall over the teenage boy before him, his bald head betraying his kind voice with a primordial insect-like face. Disturbingly he spoke Earth languages by splaying out his four mandibles and using an all too human jaw. Monstrous orange eyes tracked the movements of his opponent with small pupils.\n\nThe boy stuttered, and spat out words ungracefully in return;\n\"I used to wonder what an alien would be like. Kinda hoped I would kill one too.\" He was clad in a cobble of different armors he had stolen from enemies he had slaughtered. Some had rusted and dilapidated from poor care and misuse. At this point it was mainly to give the teenager a sense of security. The Omniglot studied the human's nervous demeanor, how it shifted in place and balled its hands. He thought it would be an easy fight - he had millennia prior been clad in the most ornate and appropriate armor for such a backwater world, prone to war and potential invasion from another force. He sighed, his mandibles folded against his lipless jaws and once again he donned the helmet that more had become more face than protection. The metal climbed over his features as some spider, its legs gripped his skull and assumed its ancient position of duty. \n\n\"Have at me, child. Teach me what Earth's finest can do. We've waited oh so long for you, brother.\"\nThe boy froze, realizing for a second he was part of something bigger than a freak show, and attacked without holding back. He remembered that suburb he had bathed in Cherenkov Radiation a year before, before reducing everything nearby into plasma and fuseable material. He smiled, and uttered his favorite words once more.\n\"Hier kommt die Sonne!\"\nHis phone started playing Rammstein at the command of the keyword \"Sonne\", and the same song played though speakers he had rigged in his backpack. Omniglot hastened backwards, detecting intense radiation from the child, and opted to increase shielding. The energy shields flared, then glowed a bright white as they absorbed the deadly energy. Atop their mountainous plateau blared a small blue star, the boy feeling the rage of Neue Deutsche Härte blazed in brilliant sapphire light.\n\nBeneath his helmet smiled a lipless smile the Omniglot.\n\n\"Sonne? And what if you replaced that with, say, \"der Sohn\"? Here comes the son? No, I would suppose not. To be a son one must have a father. You killed him, didn't you? Watched him turn to dust in the light of your wrath, if I recall. Yes, my eyes were there to witness it. I watched as you killed your own. I do not tolerate fratricide, but patricide? That's something else.\"\n\nThe boy winced, and the fusion-star in his core died out. Though the music kept playing, he could not will rage, just sorrow. The Omniglot stepped forward and disabled his MP3 player, lifted the boy into the air, and imprisoned the sobbing kid into a small black pod stowed nearby. It sped away, back towards the alien's ship without so much as a whisper. \n\nTo think, the Omniglot whispered to himself, humans still kill their own brothers, and despair their fathers like brutes. Their punishment truly was too soft. For shame.", "\"Why are we fighting each other?\"\n\n\"We're both the only person in TheTemplar's stories. Don't ask me who TheTemplar is, but for some reason he, excluding every character required in prompts, writes exclusively about us. Thanks, TheTemplar.\"\n\n\"My fellow American, we can't do this. The state of this country relies on the people joining and working together as a team. Normal and even abnormal struggles should temporarily be put aside to accomplish today's goals.\"\n\n\"You know, you're right.\"\n\nThe two walked away from the battle arena they found themselves in, both thanking the other." ]	3
You're alone obviously.	[WP] You lie in your bed half awake when you hear a stomach growl. You chuckle but then you realize that it didn't come from you.	[ "No one goes hungry in Kent. Not the most ignorant o' shopkeepers or the sweetest o' southern belles. The food supply is near endless. But at times, all good things must come to an end.\n \nWhen I hear the word, hatchet, I see in my mind the strong, wooden handle. I see in my mind the hefty stone, and I feel the heat o’ the newly sharpened blade on my finger tips. When I hear the word, butcher, I think o’ my time at Art’s. In my mind, I smell the scent o’ bloodied, chopped pork. I can feel my knife slice, and the muscle tear. When I hear the word, fear, in my mind I can imagine the tightening in my chest. I can feel the stress of a rapid heartbeat and numb fingers. But when I hear the word, hunger, I feel nothing.\n\nI closed the shoddy screen door behind me, lettin’ it slam shut so I wouldn’t have to listen to it whine. I walked the dusty pathway into town.\n\n“Mornin’”, said a man leanin’ against the wall o’ Art’s butchery.\n\n“Mornin’, Sir,” I replied.\n\nI stepped into Art’s and laid down my weekly food voucher onto the blood stained, butcher-block counter. “Mornin’, Art. Lemme’ get two pounds o’ lamb, three pork, and a leg for the road.”\n\nHe didn’t greet me with his usual sweaty glint and stained apron. “Go home, boy. Go home and lock ya’ doors.” His raspy tone was solemn and cold. “We ain’t got none.”\n\n“What? What ya’ mean ya’ ain’t got none? I don’t understand… how can there be nothin’?” I questioned.\n\n“Cause there ain’t, boy!” He snapped. “All we got this time o’ year is meat. And maggots done ate holes through half the livestock. The other half gone missin’. Now git’. Go home, lock up, and don’t come back here til’ the sun rise ‘gan.” He looked back down at his hands, wiping grease onto an already filthy rag. In the corner, leanin’ against the wall was a polished, well-cleaned shotgun.\n\nI walked out the front door of the shop. The leanin’ man had gone on his way. Soon the whole town would find out we had no food. How could this happen? Not in Kent. This never happened in Kent.\n\nI laid down in bed and turned out my lamp. Amongst the songs o’ the crickets and hum o’ the wind, I thought about what Art had said. “Lock ya’ doors.” We didn’t have any locks. We’d never needed any. But when I told Pa what happened, I could see the fear in his eyes. I could feel the tightening of his chest in my own. “Get the dresser and put it in front o’ the screen, son,” he’d said. I did. We lived a few miles outside o’ town. Pa said we’d be fine. He said most folks ain’t even know where we live. When the hunger hits, ain’t nobody gonna’ travel all the way out here.\n\nI laid in bed and tried to fall asleep. I wasn’t hungry. Pa had a few pounds o’ meat salted and stored in case something like this ever happened. Amongst the crickets and wind I thought I heard the screen door whine. I convinced myself it was all in my head. Nobody could get past the dresser, and nobody would come out here anyhow. I laid my head back and closed my eyes. I wondered how long this would last. This kind of thing never happened in Kent.\n\nI woke up in a haze a few hours later, still well into the night. My bedroom door was open. Not all the way, but cracked just enough so the moonlight in the kitchen shined through. I had closed it before I went to bed. My heart began to race. My fingers went numb. I managed a word, “Pa?” A stomach growled in reply.\n\nSometimes, people go hungry in Kent. Sometimes it’s the ignorant shopkeeper, or sometimes it’s the sweet southern belle. But no matter who it is, when people go hungry, go home. Lock ya’ doors. And don’t come out ‘til mornin’. " ]	1
	[WP] In 1515 Henry VIII sentenced a scientist to 500 years in prison for crimes against God. It's 500 years later and they have just emerged un-aged.	[ "\"Nigel come here quick!\" my assistant archeologist from the University of London screamed at me. \"Look here at the monitors!\"\n\n\"Oh my god! Could it be?\" I glared at the grainy footage showing a man, frozen in a block of ice hundreds of feet below the icy surface of the mountains of Scotland where my research team was unearthing the ruins of a long lost castle belonging to King Henry VIII. \n\n\"Quick! Get the excavating team in here and start digging!\" I yelled at my assistant. The excavation team went to work immediately drilling into the hard, frozen ground. After working all through the night, they finally reached the man and brought him to the surface. The man was dressed in a white overcoat and was frozen in a block of ice, keeping him in the same age and condition for 500 years. Next to him was a plaque that read 'YE HE HATH BEN SENTENCED TO IMPRISONMENT FOR CRIMES AGAINST THY GOD -SIGNED KING HENRY VIII ON AUGUST THE 8TH YEAR 1515'\n\n\"Get him to the research lab!\" I screamed at my assistant.\n\n\"Please stop screaming at me!\" my assistant replied as the 500 year old man was loaded into the back of a temperature controlled truck. All of a sudden, several black SUVs came screeching up and surrounded the truck. Men in black suits came hopping out of the SUVs and one large man came bounding up towards me holding a badge. \n\n\"I'm Agent J from her Majesty's Secret Service,\" the large man in the black suit said to me. \"We will take it from here, you get your research team out of this area immediately.\"\n\n\"Bull shit!\" I screamed at the large man. \"I found this frozen man, he's mine!\" I yelled as i ran towards the truck and hoped in. I tried to drive away, but the Secret Service agents shot the tires, causing the truck to lose control and flip over. I crawled out of the wreckage unscathed and started crying. The frozen man had fallen out of the back of the truck and smashed all over the place. \n\n\"Holy shit! Look over there!\" my assistant shouted. To everyone's surprise, the accident had caused the frozen man to escape his icy encasement and start wandering around all bewildered. The agents drew their guns and pointed it at the frozen man who was swaying to and fro all confused.\n\n\"Stop where you are!\" one of the agents yelled at the man.\n\n\"Where, where art thou?\" the frozen man asked with a weak voice. \"Does thou hath any water to spare?\" the frozen man asked as he took a step towards the Secret Service Agents.\n\n\"My god! He's coming right for us!\" the large agent said. \"Take him down!\" The agents tackled the frozen man to the ground and detained him. He was brought to St Mary's Research Facility in Southern London where he would spend the rest of his days undergoing research used to help facilitate cryogenic hyper-sleep for future space travel programs.\n\n", "Bridewell Palace, built for King Henry the VIII, in London Proper, has served many roles. At first, it was a palace indeed, eschewing the Great Hall typical of other royal's residences, rather audaciiously, with a grand processional marble staircase, seemingly designed to showcase the young king's atlhetic prowess. As the king grew, both in years and, more importantly, waistline, he relocated to a different residence. It's since served as a boarding house for 'disorderly women', here used to mean women who were too open, and frequent with their affections or voiced opinions, and an orphanage. There was an unfortunate synergy between the two, it must be said.\n\nMore importantly, it also served as the nation's (and perhaps the worlds) first prison. Not oubilette, or dungeon. Prison. Holding cells, light from windows, and prison sentences, which actually had an end date. Again, a revolutionary change.\n\nUnfortunately for our protagonist, as he'd been sentenced approximately forty years earlier, and, thusly having missed all these humanitarian reforms, had instead been sealed into an iron coffin that had then been bricked up into a wall.\n\nVery unfortunate.\n\nMore fortunate was the decision of the City Council in 1864 to have the building take on a new role, this time as a pile of rubble.\n\nProgress.\n\nHowever, this also meant that his cell, piled with the other masonry, would serve as excellent infill for the recently dredged riverbank of the Thames River.\n\nAgain, it should be mentioned, the river served as the sewage disposal system for all of London.\n\nThe box was not watertight. It took him a full thirty years to tire of drowning, though it would take him a further sixty, to get used to the taste.\n\nIn 2015, a garbage barge, behind schedule, made the singularly important decision to drop anchor while waiting for a tug to circle back for pickup, in violation of maritime law.\n\nThis disturbed the scientist, as the weighty hook shattered the embrittled and rusted iron padlock, as well as a great deal of the door itself. This scared away a number of fish, whose generational disputes and dynastic heritage he'd been following very closely. Her Duchess Ladyfin had just allowed the scandalously bold Lord Pied-Tail to crop dust her eggs with sperm, and in the carefully maintained silt circle of the virtuous Count Yelloweye, made expressly for courtship no less.\n\nHowever, this was followed by the frankly mind-shattering revelation of freedom. Muscles, long forgotten, stirred to action.\n\nCoughing, choking, expelling water stewed in lungs for a half-millennium, he landed on shore. He was naked. He was hungry. And he was utterly, utterly lost.\n\n...He had just stepped in goose droppings.\n\nThis is the story of Aloysus Croyden, Royal Physician and Scholar.\n\nHe had been convicted for crimes against God. The charges were true. However, he'd commited crimes against the Devil, too. \n\nIt turns out, Gods, Devils and Kings all hate being outsmarted. It remains difficult to outsmart a metal box, even in our modern age.\n\nWhat happened next, though, wasn't that far off from it.\n\n[TO BE CONTINUED?]\n\nHey, If you like this, maybe subscribe and read some more stuff [over here?](http://www.reddit.com/r/IWasSurprisedToo/) Also, please comment, too. I think there's enough here for a novel, the idea of a Stuart-era immortal Englishman in modern London could be fun. Tanks for looking!\n\n", "There were no records. Nothing to justify why a man would be sentenced to a 500 year prison sentence except a shakily written annotation on small piece of parchment. \n\n'Crimes against God.' \n\nThey should have just killed him. The world would have been better off. Half of a millennium is far too long a time for people to focus on something. \n\nI imagine it took a decade or two for his guards to notice he wasn't aging. And the experiments he must have undergone were most likely barbaric. But eventually, the public found out. \n\nA man who stopped aging. He became an icon. It wasn't long before he became a god. Some preexisting religions latched onto him. Second coming and all that. Nothing compared to the endless new religions and cults he spawned.\n\nBut I can't blame him. That poor man hasn't been allowed any outside contact in 500 years. The punishment for speaking to him is 500 years in prison. So symbolic. Still, a good enough deterrent to keep anyone from uttering a word to him. Even the few scientists, who found nothing, remained speechless. I heard they were told not to look into his eyes either. I guess you can say a lot with your eyes.\n\nI bet he's insane. That long with nothing but your own thoughts. I guess I'll find out soon enough.\n\nI can't help but feel nervous. Today his sentence is over and I'm going to be one of the first people to speak with him. He's going to do a world wide interview. I imagine nothing in history has ever been as important to so many people. Billions just waiting to hear what he has to say. \n\nFor his safety, he was smuggled out of prison with no shortage of secrecy. Now, I just wait. Surrounded by armed men in black uniforms, I sit patiently at the table. Staring at the empty chair across from me. The camera, focused and ready to record. \n\nThen, I hear it. The faint sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Three people total if I'm not mistaken. He enters the room accompanied by two armed guards in black outfits. Identical to those already present, faces featureless they lead him to the chair.\n\nI turn on the camera and its faint hum breaks the silence. \n\nHe turns to me and says, \"How does it feel to speak to the most famous man on the planet.\"\n\n\"How do you know about the outside world?\" I ask him. \n\nHe smiles, \"Maybe some people couldn't help but talk to a living god.\"\n\n\"I see. And do you intend to share your secret with the world? People are dying to know your past.\" I say, trying to remain professional. \n\n\"After people hear what I have to say, the world will turn upside down.\" His grin growing as he says this. \nI nod and snap my finger loudly. \n\nTwo men swiftly restrain him in his chair. As he struggles, a third sinks a syringe into his neck with the grace of a surgeon. The event is over in seconds.\n\nHe is still struggling as they let go, but I know he won't be moving much soon. The poison cocktail begins with paralysis. He won't suffer, but he will hear what I have to say. \n\nHe looks defeated. Sitting there with his mouth open, his eyes darting back and forth. Looking for an answer. \nI lean in closer, my eyes level with his. \"You betrayed us with your ignorance. This outcome was inevitable.\"\nI light a cigarette, relaxing as I exhale the cloud of smoke. \"The world would destroy itself if it learned of our existence. Your existence alone almost did that.\"\n\nBy now his body is shutting down, one organ at a time. \n\nIt's done.\n\nI signal the men and they haul him and the camera away. Like I would record this. \n", "Pavel Symonov steepled his fingers carefully and leant forwards, surveying the academic dispassionately across the desk. He was an elderly man, with white, grey-flecked hair and pale eyes that protruded slightly from his liver-spotted face. For all the outward signs of impending physical decrepitude, however, his expression –a constant look of haughty superiority- was reinforced by the intelligence that flashed from his eyes with every word he spoke. Journalists, when writing character profiles of media moguls or an actor with whom they want to guarantee future interviews, sometimes say somebody’s mind is ‘sharp’; Symonov’s was a mind so honed it could have cut a diamond into neat quarters. When younger, he had worked in the KGB for twelve years as an intelligence administrator; now, approaching the end of his working life, he was angling for a lordship following over two decades’ service with MI5. \n\nThe man sitting opposite him was of an entirely different sort. Had he been born into the same circumstances as Symonov, he might have followed a similar path, for his intelligence was not significantly less than that of the Croat’s; however, he had instead been born in Guildford, gone to boarding school, and wound up at Jesus College, Cambridge, at which point he decided he’d come far enough. His name was Alex Forester, and he was a historian of the idealistic variety, who researched because he believed what George Santayana had said, rather than because he needed the grant money. He wore a shoddy brown suit, had a growth of light-brown stubble across his chin, and was largely despised by Symonov.\n\nSymonov stared at the historian for several seconds, long enough to make Forester start to feel uncomfortable. There was a reason he’d elected to pursue an academic career, setting aside his boyish enthusiasm for old books and The Past: he was a mild man, who was not used to conflict and preferred to avoid it wherever possible.\n\n‘What is it that you have come to see me about?’ Symonov asked finally.\n\nForester cleared his throat gingerly. He had a packet of Strepsils in his pocket, but didn’t dare to take them out. ‘We’ve found something down in the tunnels,’ he said. ‘A person.’\n\n‘A person? Some skeleton, I assume? Why on earth are you bothering me about it?’\n\nForester swallowed. ‘It may be best if I remind you of how our investigation came to be conducted,’ he said.\n\nSymonov shook his head impatiently. ‘No need, no need. I remember it all. That duchess left a collection of books to your college from her library; you stumbled across a reference to a secret in the vaults below the castle, and sought my permission to investigate it. So far, so correct?’\n\nForester nodded. ‘Yes. As you know, the whole place is a warren of tunnels. Most of them have been bricked up, and there’s never been any reason to look deep into them; almost every old house from this time are riddled with them. They’re servant tunnels, or built for storage, or-’\n\nSymonov tapped his fingers loudly on his desk. ‘Cut to the chase, Forester.’\n\n‘Yes. But the point is, this duchess left a mention-’\n\n‘Forester, you bloody fool, I approved your investigation when you sent me that letter. Get on with it.’\n\n‘Certainly. Certainly. Sorry. When we started, we expected to find, well, almost anything. I’ve followed this kind of lead before, and normally there’s some old masters stowed away for tax reasons, or a mildewing chest of old books, or suchlike. But when we went down, there was evidence that it had been lived in. It was bizarre. The tunnel was bricked up, just as you would expect; everything pointed to normality, that it was shut off at least a hundred years’ ago. And then-’ Forester paused, and looked down at his lap. \n\nSymonov regarded him with his pale eyes, and then silently poured him a small glass of dark brandy. Forester accepted it, cradled it in his hands, and took a small sip. Then he leant back, set the glass back on the desk with a clink, and carried on.\n\n‘I mean, it had been bricked up at least a hundred years ago. There was no question about it. But even so, it was also certainly inhabited. By a man. He says he was locked up during Henry the Eighth’s time. But- but- He hasn’t aged. He hasn’t aged at all. He still looks like he’s thirty. And he has a radio and a television. We don’t know how, because we’re absolutely positive he hasn’t left his section of the tunnels; they're completely cut off, we’re sure of it. And we were wondering if- well, your department has responsibility throughout the castle, and we thought perhaps it might be something of yours. Is it historical? Is there anything I can take back to Cambridge? Or is it some intelligence thing?’\n\nSymonov smiled. ‘You’re quite right. It’s part of a project of ours. Don’t trouble yourself any more with it; it was all a misunderstanding, and it must have been an administrative error that led to your investigation being approved- I had thought you were proposing to look through a different part of the tunnels.’\n\nForester looked bitterly disappointed, but finished his brandy quickly and took his jacket from the back of his chair. Symonov half rose to see him out, then thought better of it and sat back down. ‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I was speaking with the PM’s permanent secretary, and he mentioned that the government were considering allocating new funds to historical research grants. I’ve been impressed by the, ah, meticulousness of your work here, and I’ll be sure to mention your name when and if the idea moves further.’\nForester turned at the door as he heard Symonov’s words, his shoddy brown jacket still folded over his arm. He bobbed a little in a grateful manner, but his face was still glum as he left. Symonov waited a moment, gazing out of the window as he thought, and then dialled his secretary’s number into his phone.\n\nThe following day the unknown man was brought upstairs from his home in the tunnels, and Symonov was there to meet him. It was the first time he had conducted an interrogation since his days as a young officer in the KGB, but his curiosity was overpowering and he was reluctant to receive a report second-hand when he was able to witness it all himself.\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] Lately, you've been seeing an inordinate amount of accidents (crashes, hit-and-runs, falls) and each time, you see an old man standing beside the event, taking notes in a black book.	[ "First the alarm goes off, my wife already filling the house with the scent of breakfast as I slowly got ready for work. We ate, talked, cleaned the dishes, and after a kiss at the front door I left for work. This was my routine, five out of seven days, with little to no fluctuations.\n\nAfter letting the car warm up, I was off to another average day at the office; or so I thought. I was about halfway there, waiting at a red light a few cars behind the front when I saw it. A little girl dashing out onto the street as the lights were about to switch. A bus driver must had thought he could make it, and though he did, the little girl did not.\n\nI saw everything, though my brain went blank from the shock. The screams of the girls mother shook me out of it. Sure enough I would be late for work, and as I watched the scene from the safety of my driver seat, was when I noticed him. An old man wearing a grey three piece suite, though it didn't fit him well. Then out came a small book, writing as he observed.\n\nI hardly payed as much attention to him as I did the scene in front of us. By the time the ambulance came, loading the girls body in its back, I looked back to the corner to find him gone. I thought nothing of it as the scene settled itself over the course of a few hours, until I saw him again two days later.\n\nDuring lunch that day I took a walk to a restaurant down the street from the office, and on my way someone jumped off a building across the street. I heard his short scream, and as I glanced over, the body smacked the ground. The sound echoed as a few people screamed and cleared the area around him, and there he was revealed; same suit; same book, though I could make out only its black cover.\n\nHe wrote as I stood flabbergasted over what I just witnessed. His gaze met mine only a moment before he stepped back, disappearing in the crowd. I thought two accidents were weird, but that same day when I was driving home I was witness to another death. This time an old man from a heart attack, and like clockwork, there was that same old wrinkled man seemingly taking notes of some kind.\n\nI kept onward going home, all the while thinking how creepy and odd it was to see him again, almost forgetting the days events. It didn't end there though, everyday after I was witness to another tragedy. A man in a wheel chair getting crushed by a falling convenience store sign. A bunch of high school kids getting pressed over by a tipping semi truck. A Car in front of me spontaneously combusted, setting alight the vehicle and its two passengers; all the while that little old man stood near, arched over taking notes in that little black book.\n\nMy wife was concerned, as I described the horrific scenes that passed by daily, but more importantly the old man \"He's everywhere honey! I just know he has something to do with it all!\" My voice cracked as she caressed me by the shoulders whispering to me that it was just the tragedies overwhelming me, making me think things that weren't real.\n\nI thought that maybe she was right, it was just some conspiracy theory in my head allowing me to forget those terrible things I seen. She recommended therapy, setting up an appointment the next day. I agreed, as she was looking more worried than I was at that point.\n\nThere I was the next day getting driven to the therapists office , mid-afternoon when I saw him again. He was standing at the edge of the sidewalk, directly to the left as we rolled up to a red light. I became instantly frantic, looking around to see where another person might die, but there was nothing but the mostly empty street. Before I knew it, I was opening the door yelling \"There he is, the old man!\" and running around the front of the car through the street to the other side.\n\nMy wife opened the door screaming out to me \"What are you talking about!\" But I heeded no attention as I approached him. Stopping in front of him, I was still in the street when I grabbed him by his jacket, wrinkling the vest underneath as I yelled at him with flustered cheeks \"Why are you here? What are you doing?! Who is it next?!\"\n\nI found myself slightly winded from the yelling and the run as he simply smiled up at me, no response. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I let him go, not really understanding why. He lifted a single finger, put it on my chest and pushed only slightly. It felt like nothing was touching me, but there I was stepping backwards, the last thing I heard was my wife's scream.\n\nSuddenly I was standing over my skid marked and bloody body. My wife ran up, crying and raging about. I watched the old man pull out that little black book, putting pencil to paper as he observed the scene before us. I asked him \"Am I dead?\" but he gave no response.\n\nI looked to my wife, who was now being dragged from my now lifeless body by the very man in the Blazer that railed me. With the old man at my side I called out to her. I didn't think she could hear me, but she looked my way in that instant. There was hope for a response, but all she said instead was \"Where did you come from? You weren't here a minute ago!\"\n\nThe tears never stopped as she lost the strength in her legs to hold her up. The man holding her asked \"Who are you talking to?\" I felt a sinking and sick feeling in my stomach as I slowly turned my head towards the old man. Taking a break from his writing he looked up to her, only giving her a polite smile before glancing back at me and disappearing.", "\"Look, right there!\" I shout.\n\nAenor's head spins, but at just that moment the poor guy rushes past us, trying to fan out the flames on his bottom. When he's past, the figure has vanished.\n\n\"Seriously, Mairn? That's the last time I look where you point.\" Aenor's smiling as he says it, he thinks I'm joking around. So has everyone else I try to point him out to. I didn't even have a reputation as a joker before this stuff started, now I can't make anyone take me seriously on anything.\n\n\"Come on, lets go eat before everything good's gone.\" Aenor starts walking off towards the cafeteria, forcing me to follow or be left behind. I fall in step beside him, striding off across the flagstones.\n\n\"Haven't you notice more accidents lately?\" I ask\n\n\"Nope.\" replies Aenor. Just you talking about them more.\n\n\"Well, I've been keeping track.\" I pull out my notebook and flip it open. \"For the past 10 days there's been an accident in the WorldShaping campus at least once a day, sometimes even more. And every time, he's there watching and scribbling something on that black tablet of his. I can't get the same data for the MindShaping campus, but you might be able to keep track, you spend most of your time there.\"\n\nHe waves my notebook away. \"WorldShaping's always been messy, fool. And you really expect me to believe in your ghost story? The one you've been trying on everyone for the last week?\"\n\nI press on. \"I'm serious! The accidents aren't normal, Precursor wants to be Shaped! It doesn't fight you like it's been doing lately, and every time it fights and wins, he's there to watch the results. I think he's causing the accidents.\"\n\nAenor's just laughing harder. \"You really don't want this to be normal, do you? It is. I've been here longer than you, and there's always a few WorldShapers who mess up big. You can still change your focus, come over to MindShaping. We don't blow up our breakfasts showing off all the time.\"\n\nMy ears get hot. He didn't need to remind me of that! \"Maybe,\" I snarl, \"But you MindShapers can't do this!\" \n\nI raise my hand and draw a stream of Precursor to it, creating a void in the sky. It's a little dangerous to do it backwards and use your hand as the source of the lightning, but I can manage. I've been practicing. I prepare to release the bolt, and then I see him. He's watching from the window of a basics classroom, watching me with his unblinking gaze. His hands are contorted in front of him, manipulating some object I can't get a good look at. The Precursor I'm holding gives a jerk, like something else pushed at it. No WorldShaper here would interfere with another's Shaping, that's not just rude but dangerous! He's doing it, he must be. I stiffen, try to hold on while keeping my gaze on him. I open my mouth to shout, but don't get a chance.\n\nThe Precursor pulls out of my grip and the bolt flies when I'm not ready. I don't feel any pain, instead I feel something worse. Nothing. I can see my hand, only slightly burned, but I can't feel it at all. It's like it's not really there. The ringing in my ears almost drowns out the shouting. Aenor grabs my shoulder, which I can feel a little, smoothing out the Precursor that's been disturbed. More people are running over, and he's still watching. Taking notes now. In a moment, I won't be able to see him, I have to act fast. \n\nI haven't studied MindShaping beyond the compulsories, but I know how to probe. I reach for him, searching for his motivations. What is he is doing? And why? I find nothing. Not the \"not thinking about anything\" nothing that blocks basic probes like mine. Nothing at all. Like he's not really there, like he's just a rock that looks like a man. I stretch out further, searching for something, any sign of human life. There's nothing, and I'm getting dizzy. I'm being held up, and Aenor's face is blocking mine now. More people are grabbing at me, carrying me. \n\nRaising my neck takes way more effort than it should. My shout comes out barely more than a whisper. \"There's nothing there! Nothing!\"\n\nOnly Aenor hears me, and he just looks down and smiles. Says something soothing, but I can't make out the words. He doesn't understand. No one will understand. Darkness fills my vision before I can try again." ]	2
	[WP] Write the love story you've always wanted to write.	[ "Bill was in a good mood, or as good could be expected these days for an admittedly curmudgeonly pensioner with a bad leg on a dreary afternoon in the English countryside. Still, he was on his way to see Rose, his \"Rosie,\" so he was content, despite himself. He clutched a hickory cane in his left hand to steady himself as he walked along the lane, little more than a winding track at this point, lined with brambles and thickets and small stands of poplar and maple. The fields beyond were sown with barley and oats, soon to be ready for the winter harvest.\n\nFinally, Bill reached the spot, their special place, an ancient iron and wood bench beneath an immense white oak, which stood proud and tall, and had done so since Bill's father, and his before him, walked these paths. \"Good to see you, Rosie,\" said Bill cheerfully with a grunt as his old man's knees reluctantly allowed him to have a seat. He placed his cane across his lap and removed his wool cap. \"Have I told you that I love you so?\" he asked with a wink, and there she was, sitting on the bench beside him, smiling, with bright green eyes that were playful and mischievous and tender, all at once. \"I love you too, Bill, and I look forward to your visits, more than you know,\" she said gently, taking his hand into hers, and he could tell from her tone what she was about to say to him. She continued, choosing her words carefully, \"But you cannot keep doing this to yourself, or to the children. You have to live, and not linger in the past. It's been ten years, and you're letting time pass you by.\" She smiled at him, sadly, and he could see tears welling in those green eyes. He looked at her, really looked at her, and recalled all the wonderful years that they had together. She is lovely and young, perhaps twenty or twenty-one, like she was on the day they were married, when they were no more than babes. This is how Rosie always appears when he comes to spend the afternoon with her in their special place, a reminder of better, happier times. He reaches out a hand, old and spotted and calloused, and touches her hair, long and thick and golden, and she smells to him of wild roses and honeysuckle. But, in that moment, the sight of his shaking, wrinkled hand on her flushed cheek reminds him that she is right. He is an old man, and Rosie is a ghost, a memory, that he has clung to stubbornly.\n\n\"I know,\" Bill sighs, and he looks down at the cane in his hand, a gift from her. \"You're right, of course. Always were,\" he laughs, but the laugh does no reach his eyes, which strain with sadness. She reaches over and gently runs her hand, soft and delicate, through his thinning, grey hair and kisses his wrinkled brow, as she always did. \"It's not fair for me to keep you here, tied to this place. I know that I should let you go. Goodbye, Rosie,\" he says with a wan smile, and he is alone on the ancient bench once more, beneath the great oak. \n\nThe sun begins to peak through the clouds, and the only sounds are the rustling of the wind through the fields and the thickets and the patter of rain from the branches and leaves onto the muddy ground. He stands and walks over to the weathered headstone, a short distance from their special place, and bends down and brushes it clean with his hand. \"Have I told you, Rosie, that I love you so?\" Bill says, barely above a whisper, as he turns to walk away. Some time later, as he walks down the lane, he looks over his shoulder for one last glimpse before their special spot disappeared fully from view, and he thought that he could see his Rosie standing there, smiling at him and waving goodbye. He feels empty now that he has let her go, but he knows somehow that he will see her soon. Bill smiles and begins to whistle as he hobbles along on his cane down the lane between the thickets.", "\"This really isn't the time to go swimming, Joanna!\" I screamed, the waves lapping onto the shore were really loud, and I wanted her to hear me. It was a long time since I'd gone swimming, I'd say a year or so. There I was, standing there in the water, feeling the sand between my toes. Cold, oh so cold.\n\n\"Don't be a wuss, join me!\"\n\nI didn't want to get pneumonia, so I just stood there awkwardly while watching her. The sun was setting, and it was getting dark. The waves were lapping onto my knees, causing me to almost fall into the water, but mainly because I was so lost in thought that I didn't focus on standing straight.\n\nI was just looking at her, how she didn't care about anything. She was having fun, and my god did she look beautiful today. Not like she doesn't always, but today was different. She had long and curly hair, and it looked that much better on her when it was wet. It's the little things in her which I find very attractive. They way she looked at me, like she's seeing me after a long time. Ooooohh, always gives me the butterflies.\n\nShe ras as fast as she could in the water, towards me, and splashed some onto me, with the intention to have me follow her into the water. I didn't care about the cold anymore, I wanted to splash that water back at her!\n\nI swam towards her, while she swam deeper into the sea. Yes, I wanted to fight her, but I was concerned for her, because she wasn't the best swimmer around, like any good boyfriend would be.\n\nI swam upto her, and splashed some water onto her face, and we fought like this for a while until she realized it was a battle she shouldn't have fought.\n\nI held her arms, so she couldn't do anything more. Surprisingly, I could still stand, being tall has it's perks. She struggled, trying to keep her head above the water. I helped her up, and held her waist, the salt water helping me a lot in keeping her up. She wasn't nearly as tall as I was, which is what I loved about her most. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and hugged me tight, afraid of drowning. I hugged her back, telling her it's fine, and that I got her. She pulls back, and stares deep into my eyes. Gosh, I could look at her eyes all day long. She had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, and the green and blue in them makes me want to stare into them even more.\n\nThis is exactly how I dreamed it would be, me, holding her at the beach, her arms on around my neck, while the sun sets in the back.\n\n\"I love you, Sid!\"\n\n\"I love you too, Joanna!\"\n\nI brushed her hair behind her ear with my right hand, all the time while looking into her eyes, and I held her like that. Even though we'd done this loads of times, each time it felt different, it felt knew, and I always got butterflies. Just thinking of being with the most amazing girl I ever knew did that to me. I was holding the back of her neck, and pulled her closer to me with my other hand, while she was almost hugging me. Our lips slowly got closer and closer, until they finally met. This was more than perfect. The perfect kiss, like I imagined and always wished for it to be, with the perfect girl, on a perfect evening.\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nMy first time ever writing a story. I don't want any feedback on it, I was just given the opportunity to put something I've always wanted in words, and I took it :)\n\nMy gosh this sounds so cliché. Whatever.", "The dream is always the same. It's starts out pure white and the sounds of an airport slowly flood the air. The atmosphere gets louder and colour wains in to the picture. And I see you walking towards me. \n\nIt's always the same, the same gate, the same time, the same reason.\n\nYou ask me why I'm there and I say something stupid. \n\n\"I have a flight to get back to Canada.\" No sound, but I can see myself say the words. \n\nThe noise in the airport gets louder and a constant stream of consciousness tries to push its way out of my mind. I want to say something but won't. \n\nYou're here to go home. I know this; our conversation stays light and on the surface. \n\nWe walk to your gate and I see you off. My mind screaming to call you back. To tell you that I care, that I don't want you to go, that I feel whole with you. \n\nBut he's waiting, back in the states. He always has been. \n\nThis situation. Our friendship was born and nurtured squarely in the frame of friendship. \n\nI smile as my mind screams out. Screams for me to say something. To tell you that sometime over the past year I fell in love with you. \n\nI watch you enter the gate and world fades back into white. The sound softens. And almost as if on cue I wake up. ", "03:22. Looks like another sleepless night. Fuck you insomnia. \n\nI always wondered if there was more to existence. I’m not really sure what more. The philosophical questions that keep me up at night are usually more vague ideas than coherent thoughts yet they still keep me up all the same. The idea of thought itself always boggled me, what even is it? I get that our brain is just a serious of chemical reactions happening but how does that web of mystery and sparks create beauty and perception and ideas and people. How does that little spark on the end of a single nerve in a single body manage to chop a tree down? \nA fly whizzed across the room.\n\nI wander if other species have thoughts. I wander if they get kept awake by the little sparks in their heads. You don’t really hear about animals with naturally occurring mental ailments do you? The insomniac cow is sitting in a seminar with the schizophrenic Goat. \n\nMy eyelids are struggling to remain open at this point. I’m flickering in and out of conscience. \n\n03:45. Fuck you insomnia. \n\nThis is getting ridiculous, I need to do something. \n\n04:30.\nMcDonalds is the only place open, you don’t really want to be seen there at this time. You don’t really want to see anyone there at this time. I step through the doors placed under the recognisable golden arches. Headphones in so people don’t try to talk to me. No music playing so I can collect and calm my thoughts down. \n\n“I’ll have a hot chocolate please.”\n\nI stare blankly at the breakfast menu. Nothing appeals to me, I’m not really hungry or thirsty, I just need to keep my head occupied as my brain whirs through a thousand thoughts a minute. I see movement in the corner of my eye. ‘Get the fuck out of my view whatever you are; I’m in the zone for still images.’\n\n“Oh shit, yes a medium please.”\n\nI go to grab some serviettes before sitting down with my beverage. I feel a small pull on my arm but ignore it. I grab the serviettes and the pull gets stronger. I look up and there’s a gentlemen standing there. He seems to smile at me, I’m confused, he points down at his feet and I’ve poured hot chocolate all over his shoes. \n\n“I’m so sorry!” I exclaim as I bend to wipe his smart pointed brown leather shoes.\n\n This man has style. Although everyone has style stood next to me at the moment, I’m a blubbering 5AM mess wearing a hoodie and track suit bottoms, I have my grease filled hair tied up in a bun. I pulled a headphone out not to look rude as I kept wiping. He knelt down and whispered in my ear.\n\n“Wrong shoe m’darling.” \n\n“oh my god im so so sorry!”\n\n“It’s alright, mistakes happen, you can make up for it by giving me company during my drink.”\nMy heart was racing faster than an Olympic athlete. I did not want to spend my break from trying to sleep with a total stranger and most probably freak. I looked to his face to kindly reject him but as my eyes met the gaze of his soft pupil and comforting brown iris I melted. \n\n“S…s…s...sure.”\n\n07:30 and we’re still here. Thank you insomnia. \n", "It’s always great when you have that one person that’s always by your side. Indigo was that person- she had made my life complete since we were in the third grade. Our class was on the playground for recess, when two kids from the next grade started picking on me. Indigo, being the headstrong human being she still is today, marched right up to the bullies and set them straight, telling them what was what and peeling them off of me. Not only did she defend me, but she took my hand, pulled me to my feet, and brushed me off. We’d been absolutely inseparable since.\n\nI was infatuated with her. Indigo had this way about her, like nothing could hurt her. She was amazing, really, how she could care so much and so little at the same time, and never get hurt. For the time I had known her, she had never been in a lesser mood than ecstatic; her attitude towards life enthralled me in more ways than one.\n\nIt was Indigo’s idea to go out that day. A picnic in the park, such a cliche idea, sparked her interest. She had gotten the typical wicker basket, stuffed with sandwiches, plastic snack baggies of potato chips and baby carrot sticks, and a plaid white and red checkerboard blanket was spread out in a shady area near the center of the park. She sat the brown basket between us, adjusting the sunglasses that rested on the bridge of her nose, and smiled at me. \n\n“It’s so lovely today,” Indigo made small talk, brushing a strand of her short, strawberry-blond hair from her face. I couldn’t help but stare as she laid back, resting her hands behind her head, the sunlight hitting her pale skin in the most flattering way. \n\n“Yeah, it really is.” I agreed. A cool breeze blew through the fall air, rustling the orange, brown, and yellow leaves on the trees that surrounded us, and disheveling the fallen, half-dead ones that littered the ground. I looked around, the sound of the wind taking over my thoughts. The vague sound of Indigo speaking was silenced by the whoosh of the air, the rustle of the leaves, and the far-off sound of children playing on the nearby playground.\n\n“Oliver!” Indigo smacked my arm, knocking me out of my daze. “Did you hear what I said?” My eyes flickered to meet hers as she pulled the glasses from her face and sat up. \n\n“N-no,” I stuttered, “I was.. Thinking. Sorry. What did you say?”\n\n“I said, we should go out tonight. Lexie’s having an end-of-the-year party, and she invited us.”\n\n“By us you mean she invited you, and you had to convince her to let me come, right?” I raised an eyebrow, giving Indigo a challenging smile. “Besides, I don’t do parties. You know that.”\n\n“Oh come on, Oli! It’s three weeks until graduation, and there aren’t many high school parties between now and then. You gotta live a little!” \n\nAs much as I wanted not to go, Indigo dragged me to the party anyway. She was right, in a sense- our high school careers were going to be over soon, so we might as well enjoy things while we could. Besides, the more time we spent enjoying ourselves, the less time we thought about college and going our separate ways after nine years- something I tried to avoid thinking about with all of my being. Indigo had her whole life ahead of her, going straight from high school into an internship at a publisher in New York. Me, however? I had absolutely no clue what I wanted to do in life. Indigo had all of her ducks in a row, but mine were swimming a little too far out for me to arrange them.\n\nThe party, as expected, was dull in every sense of the word. I clung to the bowl of chips like it was my lifeline, while Indigo lingered from group to group, making her appearances. My eyes followed her as she darted around the room, hugging every person that offered. She grabbed two drinks before crossing the room and collapsing on the sofa next to me.\n\n\"You don't look like you're having fun.\" She handed me one of the cups of soda, and I accepted, sipping it gratefully. \n\n\"You know I don't like parties.\"\n\n\"I know, but I just thought you'd want to have a little fun before everyone dispersed.\"\n\n\"I'd really, really rather not think about you and I 'dispersing,' Indy.\" I sighed, swirling the drink in the cup and staring at my feet.\n\n\"Oli, look at me.\" I obliged, looking up from my cup only to see her eyes locked on mine. \"Just come to New York with me. You and I don't have to separate, I promise.\"\n\n\"I'm not sure that's a good idea.\"\n\n\"Oliver Deen, we have been friends for nine years, and you think moving to New York with me is a bad idea?\"\n\n\"I- no, that's not what I meant. You're my best friend, and I get this feeling that best friends is all we'll ever be. And I'm not sure that in two, five, ten years that I'll be okay with just being best friends.\"\n\n\"Who says we'll always be best friends?\" \n\nWe sat like that, eyes locked on each other, for what felt like forever but couldn't have been more than a minute. And I, Oliver Deen, the boy who couldn't fend for himself nine years ago, took the initiative to kiss her. And that kiss was my everything." ]	5
	[WP] You are cleaning out your apartment and you find a note that you did not write, but must have been from the previous owner.	[ "I read the note.\n\n\"Don't look behind you.\"\n\nAgain?! Great, another cheesy story. I look behind me.\n\n\"Arrrgh! You have bamboozled me once again!\" The crazy fan girl snarled. She disappeared in a puff of smoke.\n\n\"Why not?\" I say to myself. \"Why not?\"\n\n***************\n\n\"How is patient 341?\" The doctor said.\n\n\"Wonderful, just back to his old ramblings.\" I smiled. What else could you expect?", "There were so many piles of junk in the old house Melanie almost didn’t bother opening the envelope. She had bought the house nearly a decade ago and only gotten around to the attic in the last month or so whenever the mood struck her to sort through another box of mostly trash. She sat on the floor in front of the tv in the evening with a disintegrating cardboard box. It was the third day in a row Melanie had done this and it just fueled her frustration with the house.\n\nIt was old, and poorly taken care of and the more Melanie cleaned and revealed the more she found herself disliking it. What she had hoped was charming woodwork was instead oppressively dark paneling. The endless windows took an entire day to clean and always held dust from the faded carpets. It went on for ages as Melanie tried to remember when she found old homes charming and burned with the desire to save them. Instead she sat with a pile of blankets, because the heating system was ancient, broken and expensive, trying to find something in the box to judge the previous owners. So far she had disliked them mostly for leaving the house in shambles then having the audacity to leave no buried secrets or paper-trail of scandal to make shoveling it all out less mindnumbing.\n\nFinding the envelope, thick and yellowed, in years worth of cut out pages from old Good Housekeeping magazines Melanie had to think about why her first instinct was the throw it away out of spite. She looked out towards the dark woods and the outline of the lake wishing there was someone to see her rolling her eyes. But, the isolation was still one of the good things about the house.\n\nMelanie let herself be distracted by the ballgown clad figures on the tv for a moment before turning back to the letter. It was sealed, no stamp or anything written on the outside. Despite the thickness of the envelope she could tell there was little inside it. Melanie rubbed her thumb along a bottom corner and noticed that although age had worn it, if she had to guess it had been placed in the box without someone having touched it much. The sudden transition from gentle music to screaming guitar advertising laundry detergent prompted Melanie to set it down and head for the kitchen.\n\nWalking back with a glass of water it struck her that she was most likely looking at a bunch of expired coupons or cut out recipes. Whatever, there was no harm in looking when people on Etsy seemed happy to buy just about any old piece of paper. Feeling a great deal less reverence Melanie sat back down and tore open the top.\n\nThe paper gave way easily, and Melanie was pleasantly surprised to see a folded piece of paper instead of coupons. It could still be a shopping list, even if she immediately realized it would be ridiculous to seal something like that in an envelope. Melanie folded it open and read:\n\nWe’re leaving the house to Peter. Please, don’t let his brother and that horrible woman so much as set foot in the entryway.\nMartha & Jacob Middlefield \n\nBelow was more writing of the official variety, complete with a lawyer and notary signatures. Melanie tried to remember what she could about the house’s history. She had gotten it cheap because a hoarder lived there, and she was fairly sure someone had mentioned there being no family members to inherit it. Or maybe none of them had wanted to, she couldn’t remember. Disappointed in her find Melanie was refolding it when she noticed on the other side, bottom right. \nIt was done in pencil with such detail even without the color Melanie recognized it from the giant bushes outside. Rhododendron, pretty but out of place. Feeling dissatisfied with her find Melanie set it aside on the coffee table and moved the box and everything else near the back door to deal with later. ", "Cleaning is always the worst part,* I thought, scrubbing at the tile around the base of the toilet. Every single fucking time. I am going to hire someone to clean our next place when we move out, no matter what it costs. Just like me to already be planning to move out of the place we'd moved into only three days before. \n\nI finally completed my path around the oblong toilet and stood up to survey the rest of the bathroom. I checked all the corners, closing the door to make sure debris wasn't hiding behind it. Fortunately my girlfriend Carrie had already done a good bit of cleaning, but had run out of time. Everything looks pretty good, I observed. The landlord, a short, balding man named Chet Barnes, struck me as a bit of a stickler when it came to move out inspections. We need that deposit back.\n\nMy eyes fell on the tank behind the toilet rim. I should probably check inside, I thought, just in case it's dirty. Chet will probably charge us $20 if he has to clean it. It was a newer toilet, so I was sure he'd be extra picky. \n\nI pulled the porcelain lid off the tank, and sure enough there was a little bit of residue built up around the line where the water met the air. I grabbed the toilet brush and started scrubbing at the line. It was quick work. As I grabbed the lid to replace it I noticed a folded note on the underside, a single piece of tape running across it diagonally, holding it in place. I peeled it away and unfolded it. There were spots where water had splashed onto the note and made the ink run, but it was still legible.\n\n\"Seth,\" I said, my voice echoing in the enclosed bathroom, \"I hope you find this. I'm not sure what Chet is trying to pull, but when I tried to leave the door wouldn't budge. I've been trapped in here at least an hour now. I tried shouting and banging on the doors but no one has come to help, and my cell phone is dead so I can't call you. The lights went out, but fortunately I hadn't taken the candles out of the bathroom yet. I have a headache that seems to be getting worse by the minute. Please help me, Seth. I don't know what's going to happen...\" I looked up and around the empty, off-white bathroom. The note was signed, \"Love, Natalia.\" \n\nI dropped the note to the floor and reached for the door handle. Locked. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Unlike Natalia's, my phone was charged. Fuck, I realized, looking at the signal indicator and seeing a large X next to the tower icon. No signal. I raised the phone, trying to see if I could connect long enough to call 911 or even send a text to Carrie. Nothing. \n\n\"FUCK,\" I screamed, sitting down on the closed toilet seat. I could feel a growing pressure at the back of my skull, where it met the neck. \"It's just stress,\" I said, talking to no one but hoping the sound of my voice would help me calm down. Why did I close that God damn door? I wondered. Sweat formed on my brow. I wiped it away with my forearm.\n\nJust as I was about to stand and try the door again, then put my shoulder into it to see if I could break my way through, the lights went out. There were no windows in the bathroom, so I was immediately plunged into darkness. I reached blindly in the dark and felt along the wall until I found the round door handle again. When my hand connected with it I received an unexpected shock. \"Ow,\" I said involuntarily. Static electricity? I wondered, reaching out to touch it again. The shock was just as strong, numbing my arm as I held on for longer than the split second my reflexes wanted to enforce. No, I realized as I let go of the handle, it's an active circuit.\n\nWhat is Chet playing at? I thought in a panic. I pounded at the door with both fists. \"Chet?\" I cried. \"Are you out there? I will fuck you up if you don't let me out of here, man. Right fucking now!\"\n\nNo response. A hissing noise came from the floor. \"Chet?\" I asked again. My headache was getting worse, and my arm hurt from getting shocked. I pounded one more time at the door. \"Not funny, dude. Please let me out. I'm not... this isn't a joke.\" No response again, but the hissing noise intensified. \n\nMy head pounded in time with my racing heartbeat. I tried to think, but my brain would only thrum in time with my heart. I sunk to the floor, resting my back agains the wall. I felt so weary, so tired, like I just wanted to sleep. No, I thought, stay awake. Don't give up... \n\nI took two more breaths, then was swallowed by the darkness in the room.", "Time to clean up again, and I think back to what the previous owner had said when I looked around his place. \n\"If you do want to live here, just know that the, uh, dryer, it gets a bit dirty behind, so, it needs to be cleaned every so often.\" \nIt seemed like a weird thing at the time, but after I moved it, I saw what he meant. Dust and dirt and cobwebs as well as anything that I put on the dryer when it was on. I grab the vacuum to vacuum it up, when a little slip of paper catches my eye, a post-it note. I reach for it and hold it up to read it. \n'Oh, you're actually cleaning back here. Well, pat yourself on the back for taking the time. Also \nThe game.' \nGod damn it. The lengths Rick would take to remind me...", "No one had cleaned like I was going to clean. Not since the day I’d moved in here a year ago. Currently, I’d been unemployed for four weeks and was sick and tired of the cycle; send out resumes, schedule interviews, self-promote-self-promote-self-promote, send out thank yous, wait for response, repeat. It was Monday and I could think of no better way to procrastinate starting off a new cycle of sending out resumes than to decimate the ever-present dust bunny population. Hardwood floors were once what had attracted me to this apartment and soon would be again. I planned a scorched earth operation via swiffer and wetmop. None would survive.\nIt was while shifting the desk out of its entrenched position, by way of braced back and knee thrusts, that I found it. Wedged up against the wall, slightly tucked into the baseboards, was an envelope addressed to Geoff. No address, postage or return name. Just Geoff, written in loopy, sloping lines. No one in my place is named Geoff. Since the envelope wasn’t sealed, just tucked into itself, I opened it and began to read:\n\n“Geoff,\nYour mother dropped by unannounced. Again. It’s getting weird and I’m not going to cover for you. Call her. While you’re at it, answer your damn phone. I’ve left you fifteen messages and if you don’t bother to respond, I’m going to assume you’re not coming back. Leave me some note that you’ve been here, ok? I’m getting worried and your mother’s visits aren’t helping.\nWTF.\n-S”\n\nHow the hell did that note get there? It wasn’t dated. I don’t know the names of any of my neighbors. We had only a nodding acquaintance on the stairs of our building’s three story walk-up. I’d always nicknamed them in my head; next door was ‘The Nympho Couple’ - our building had thin walls - across the hall was ‘Gay Lawyer’, one story above is ‘Man’s Best Friend’ - the clicking of his dog’s toenails could be heard through our ceiling, guess those were thin too. Various others in the building anonymously came and went.\n\tThis could be the couple next door. Did they break up? Did he really look like a Geoff? This doesn’t really read like a girlfriend, or even ex-girlfriend’s, note. Maybe it’s Gay Lawyer. Did he have a roommate or a live-in lover? I’d think I’d have noticed, but then I honestly wasn’t paying any attention. Actually, it probably isn’t even on my floor, I’d never seen or heard a mother knocking on anyone’s door. Could this have somehow found it’s way down from upstairs and it’s Man’s Best Friend? I had no idea what his living situation really was other than the dog.\n\tWhatever the case, I abandoned my plans for mass dust genocide in favor of returning this note to it’s proper owner. The dust bunnies had a one-day stay-of-execution. It would be nice having that project to finish tomorrow. I had more urgent matters for today. Obviously, someone was worried and it was only right that I attempt to let them know their letter had been misplaced. Perhaps Geoff had already returned. With a totally benign reason for his absence. Or maybe he was still missing and it was time to file a missing person's report with the police, but the writer didn’t know it because to their knowledge the letter had been picked up. Thereby falsely confirming a return that hadn’t happened. Resumes would have to wait another two days. Today the letter. Tomorrow the bunnies. It felt good to have a to-do list.\n\tAs unlikely as having a letter fall through the ceiling sounded - even though it is an old building - I had already determined Man’s Best Friend as the most likely candidate and decided to start with The Nympho Couple. No reason to rush to conclusions and perhaps I could save myself a flight of stairs. Those knee thrusts really took it out of me and that desk is solid wood.\n\tI knocked on their door and waited. Nervously, I tapped the envelope - re-tucked with the letter back inside - on my thigh. Which one would answer? I hoped for the guy, he seemed the safer choice because I’d only ever heard the girl’s moans. Which put me on an awkward intimate level with her, but I could only infer the pace set by him. I’d never had an actual conversation with either of them before. We seemed beyond that somehow.\n\tAfter a few beats, I knocked again. A door opened next to my elbow. It was Gay Lawyer. \n\t“Oh! Sorry, thought that was my door.” he started to close it again.\n“Wait! Actually, since you answered, I was going to ask you next. Do you know a Geoff?” I held up the envelope in explanation.\n\t“Sure! Nice guy, Geoff, quiet, friendly, always said hi. He lived in your apartment before you. Had a roommate, Steven, and boy! His mother. She was over here a couple of times trying to find him before the newspaper article ran.” he leaned a shoulder into his door frame taking a relaxed position that told me this wouldn’t be a short answer. “He went missing for two weeks and they launched a search. His mother was real worried.”\n\t“For two weeks? So they found him?”\n“Heh, yeah, they found him. He just came home. Apparently, he read the story in the paper and realized he couldn’t put off telling his mother he’d lost his job any longer. He’d been ducking her for months. His roommate told me the whole story. The guy was an epic procrastinator. Thought he’d get around to it once he had another job lined up. But I guess it just never lined up so he just kept putting it off. Since he didn’t answer her calls, she tried coming by. When she could never reach him and his roommate never knew when he’d be back, she must’ve panicked and filed a missing person's. Hell of a thing to do to your mother.”\n\tGuilt fell like rock to my stomach. I could be Geoff.\n“That’s nuts.” I said a little shame-faced. “How could he let it go that far?”\n“Well, you know what they say ‘Why do today, what you could put off to tomorrow?’ Right? Ha! What do you have there?” he gestured to my envelope.\n“A note from Geoff’s roommate to him, I guess. I found it behind my desk while cleaning.”\n“God, that must’ve been there over a year! Guess they just put your desk right over top of it when you moved in, hey? What’d you have, some ten guys here helping you in?”\n“Uh, yeah, team mates. From a water polo team.”\n“Riiight. Real good looking guys. Never been back, such a shame. Aren’t you still playing? You look fit.”\n“I am, we just go out instead.” I started looking for a way out. “Thanks for all the information. Glad to have that mystery solved! I should be getting back. I’m on a job-hunt myself. Resumes to send, you know.”\n“Right. Ha! Yeah, don’t end up like Geoff! I think he had to move back home with his mom.”\n“Right!” I reached behind me to open my door as I slowly backed away, grinning like an idiot. “Well, thanks!” I made my escape. Thank god my mother lives in Calgary. I’d really better start sending out those resumes anyway.", "Ah, spring. It's the season of change, the season that presses reset on the world. Now was the time for me to press reset on my apartment and clean my filthy living space. I grimace and grit my teeth as I sweep my eyes across my small living room. In one corner of the room was greasy cardboard tower made of old pizza boxes. Acting as supports for the base, two bulging black garbage bags leaned against either side. In the middle of the room stands my dingy coffee table, scratches and nick caused by being kicked innumerable times lined the unstable legs. Covering the coffee table is junk food wrappers and old Chinese take out carton. The sofa that came with the apartment is against the wall next to the coffee table. It's an old stained leather couch that has a faint scent of sex. On the wall next to it are stains from beer and take out. Miscellaneous trash is scattered across the floor\n\nI sigh. Cleaning won't be as easy as I thought. I grab a garbage bag and begin to clean the coffee table. After a few hours, I have all the trash gone and begin to wipe down the walls. As I futilely try to scrub out the stains on the wall next to the couch, I pause and wipe the sweat from my brow. Cleaning definitely isn't easy. I glance to the side and see behind the couch full of trash. I groan. It hadn't even crossed my mind to look back there. I look back at the wall of stains. I wasn't making any progress. I sigh and drop my sponge into the bucket of dirty water next to me. \n\n\n\nTime to pick up more trash. I easily push the couch out of the way and begin picking up the crap that had accumulated behind there. After crushing a particularly mountain of trash, I notice that there's an old paper sitting underneath. The paper looked yellowed and coffee stained. Huh? I don't recall dropping any paper back here. Must be from the previous owner. I pick it up and open it to show just an [image](http://24-365crew.com/files/tnsparky/fancy_dickbutt.jpg). I sigh and ball it up and throw it away. Fucking assholes. I go back to cleaning.\n\nEDIT: First prompt written. Criticism is welcome. ", "I found the first clue after I'd moved in six months ago, at the back of a kitchen cupboard. I'd brushed it off as nothing, it had said 'fear him and find the next one'. I kept it though; pinned onto my notice board above my desk. Today I was tidying, rearranging my bedroom and I found another, same scrawling handwriting. It had been under the foot of my bed the paper had only stuck out half a centimetre.\n'You found it, he's everywhere, I can't tell you who yet. He's watching all the time, find the final one it will tell you who he is' \nI shivered I'd lived alone for years but this was the only time I'd felt this scared about. I recalled being scared of creatures in my youth and my brother comforting me, my mum giving me extra teddies and blankets. They weren't here now and I had to face this alone. I searched relentlessly for the last note, the final clue in this terrifying puzzle. I hadn't noticed anything weird in the flat, no objects moving or bumps in the night. Yet I had felt peculiar, like I was being watched. I'd put it down to paranoia and left it at that, but now- in this new dark day- I knew I had always been right. \nI searched every cupboard, under, behind all the furniture that I'd rented it with, everywhere I could think and I found nothing. \nI laid on my bed and stared up at the ceiling in terrified despair, the lamp silhouetted in the darkness. Too frightened to look at anywhere else in the room I focuses on it. I'd always liked the lamp so I'd never bothered changing it. There it was, sticking out like a label on the inside of the cylindrical fabric. I turned the side light on to not blind myself while getting it down. \nIt was folded many times, must be longer. As I slowly unfolded it revealed a line at a time.\n'He's everywhere always watching you, waiting' I shivered again.\n'For you to join him.' I recognised the same handwriting as the last two times.\n'You decide whether it will be in peace or in hell', what, I was confused, I unraveled the next line quicker than the last.\n'Proverbs 15:3 The eyes of Jehovah are in every place, Keeping watch upon the evil and the good.' Ah shit. \n", "I wasn't sure if it was brave or stupid of me to blindly reach my hand into the dark unknown under the kitchen sink. Half-used cleaning supplies and wadded up plastic shopping bags surrounded me like a crowd of rubberneckers as my fingers brushed against whatever it was I thought I saw in the far corner. Dusty but undeniably glass. Probably an old pickle jar filled with used cooking oil. With my cheek shoved against the panel above the cabinet doors, my fingertips nudged the jar sort of closer and sort of not. The story of my short life. Not like age. Height. Which meant short arms. I came at it again, this time with the handle of a scrub brush in my hand, and was rewarded with the satisfying, dull scrape of heavy glass being dragged against whatever cheap material cabinets were made out of. \n\n\nJust like I thought: pickle jar. I set it up on the counter and then pushed myself up to my feet with a groan of effort. I caught a whiff of something rank and oh, yeah, that was definitely me. God, I stunk. Detailing every nook and cranny in this damn place was kicking my ass, but I needed my security deposit back and I wasn't going to leave the assholes in the office any excuse to deduct anything. They'd probably charge me $200 for disposing of that fucking Vlassic jar. Joke's on them.\n\n\nMy phone chirped an alert at me from my bedroom. No matter how much I nodded along with other's commentary about being slaves to technology, I was a slave alright. Like Pavlov's dog I happily and obediently checked my phone, hoping desperately it was the boy I liked. He'd said the other day he wanted to get drinks tonight. Maybe this was his formal invitation. Maybe it was a selfie of him in his boxer briefs. Maybe he was outside the apartment gate with a pizza and a bottle of wine.\n\n\nIt wasn't him because of course it wasn't. It was the opposite of that: my credit card statement was available. God.\n\n\nWith the phone in my hand and the whole of the internet at my whim, I fell into familiar, pointless distraction. Before I knew it, half an hour had passed, and I couldn't have accounted for that time with any amount of detail if my life had depended on it. Just a blur of social media and re-reading the entire history of my texts with Kurt. I forced myself up from where I'd landed on my couch and hoped that he never gained some sort of mutant power that would allow him to somehow, inexplicably know that I was such a fucking creeper. Or was it just desperate? The words seemed interchangeable these days.\n\n\nI needed a shower. I cleaned up the mess I'd left from under the sink, tossing mostly empty bottles of crap I didn't need anymore. The plastic bags smelled funny, so those went, too. Something soft tickled my bare ankle.\n\n\n\"Coop,\" I said, like the name of my cat was a cuss word. He slunk past me into the dark place he was never allowed to go, but without any chemicals down there I didn't really care. \"Enjoy it while you can.\" Again, I hoped Kurt would never gain omnipotence and hear me talking to my cat.\n\n\nI picked up the jar of oil to throw it away while Coop sniffed around under the sink. I don't buy Vlassic. I didn't know what brand of pickles I buy, but it wasn't the one with the stork on it. And the oil was dark. And thick. Okay, it wasn't cooking oil. I lifted it up to the yellow-tinted kitchen light and squinted at the viscous, black liquid as it slowly oozed with the tilt of the jar.\n\n\nMy fingers touched something sticky on the label. I sniffed it before I really thought it through. Molasses. Molasses? I twisted the jar like it was that little crypto device in that Tom Hanks movie. What was it called? The DaVinci Code. Right.\n\n\nA peek of white pressed against the glass before the molasses absorbed it again. My curiosity was piqued. Anything to not continue cleaning. It took some time to get the damn lid off, and I had to rummage into an already-packed kitchen box to find the one rubber lid opener my Mom had put in my stocking last Christmas. I was notoriously bad at opening jars without help. It kept me from buying things in glass jars. Another weird detail I wanted to keep from Kurt. \n\n\nThere was no satisfying pop when I finally pried the thing open, red-faced and sore-palmed. A dirty fork from the sink was my fishing pole, and I dunked it into the thick syrup like a crane lowering into a tar pit. Gently, carefully, I unearthed something from the depths. The molasses dripped from it and the smell of it filled my galley kitchen. \n\n\nI ran the water on low to wash off whatever it was balanced on the fork. Curtains of molasses fell from it, revealing the white I'd spotted against the glass. \n\n\nIt was a folded piece of paper.\n\n\nCarefully, like I was handling some scrap of papyrus that had somehow survived the fire at the Library of Alexandria, I peeled it open. It took way too long for only being folded twice into a small square. A few rips prompted some quiet cussing, and Coop abandoned his adventure under the sink since I didn't seem to mind him being there. I realized my tongue was sticking out like a kindergartner coloring completely outside of the lines. Jesus, I was an adult. An adult with my fingers sticky with watery molasses, procrastinating something I'd already put off until the last second. That was basically the story of my life.\n\n\nThere was strange writing on the soaked paper. It looked more like cross-hatching at first. Seven lines up and down, seven lines left and right, with a curly circle drawn around it. The harder I looked, though, the more letters jumped out at me. Someone's name? It looked like maybe Jane, or Jennifer. I got all kinds of junk mail for the last tenant, but her name was Amanda. When I turned the paper, another name was written perpendicularly over the first. Something with an S. The molasses made it hard to see. Steven? I wasn't sure. Either way, obviously the office wasn't half as thorough with cleaning as I'd thought. That made me feel better.\n\n\nI took a shower after that. A long one. My mind couldn't stray far from the strange note submerged in a cookie ingredient. What else was molasses in? Barbecue sauce. Cookies and barbecue sauce. It didn't make any sense.\n\n\nWrapped up in my robe, I thought about what to google. Jar of molasses note? Note in weird jar? Was this a thing?\n\n\nThe results popped up on my phone. It was totally a thing. It sounded like a honey jar. Some kind of (bullshit) spell. The first link gave a tutorial on it, with the cross-hatched writing that was sitting damp and exposed in her sink. It was called a \"sweetener spell,\" meant to make someone sweet on whoever put the jar together. Jesus, girls could be so ridiculous sometimes. Like me. Because it was kind of creeping me out. I felt like the jar, or the note, or the energy of whoever had put the jar together was watching me. Coop was watching me though, for sure. It was his dinner time. He meowed at me impatiently when we made eye contact.\n\n\nCooper chowed down as soon as I set his food down. Maybe I was putting off touching the jar after reading about spells and how to properly dispose of them -- something about a cross-roads and burying and whatever, no, this wasn't real. What would Kurt think if he knew I was entertaining the idea of magic? As a precaution, in case the omnipotence I so badly wanted him not to have had been gifted to him, I stated my lack of insanity aloud. Somehow it didn't make me feel better.\n\n\nNeither did the sight of the jar. The corner of what had to be a yellow slip of paper had surfaced from the molasses.\n\n\n\"No way.\"\n\n\nWay. Super way.\n\n\nI felt a bit like Dana Scully as I fished out the second folded note. Excited and intrigued with room for my understanding of reality to be shaken. This time I knew what I was doing, and it took hardly any time at all to rinse off and unfold the second molasses-logged paper. The site I'd read said nothing about putting two spells into one jar.\n\n\nThe yellow paper had different names. Different handwriting. \n\n\nAmanda. That's the only name I could make out. The girl who'd lived her before me.\n\n\nI dove the fork back into the jar.\n\n\nI found two more notes with totally different names.\n\n\nThat night, instead of scrubbing the baseboards, I blow-dried the four notes. Folded them back how they'd been. Pushed them back into the black molasses. Screwed the lid back on. Pushed it back into the far corner of the sink. Cooper tied to slip back into the cabinet, and I caught him at the slim of his kitty hips.\n\n\n\"There's witches and shit down there,\" I warned him, and closed the cabinet with my foot as I kissed him on the nose. Another mental note of what not to say in front of Kurt.\n\n\nI wouldn't be telling anyone about the weird magic jar under my sink no matter how badly I wanted to. They'd ask what I did with it, and I might say accidentally tell the truth. Better safe than sorry, really. Even if it was only in my imagination -- my incredibly overactive imagination -- I needed to sleep well that night to be ready for the move tomorrow. No laying in bed with my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling and trying to calm my heart from pounding at the slightest noise because I messed with some (probably bogus [definitely bogus]) magic spell.\n\n\nKurt didn't text me that night. I considered texting him, but the collection of lovesick women's names in that jar of molasses made me feel weird about it. Hard to explain. \n\n\nSome time around midnight, I broke out the tequila. Just for a nightcap.\n\n\nI woke up the next morning beside my open laptop with molasses on my fingers and a pounding at my temples. A notebook with a page torn out was on my pillow with Cooper on top of it, watching me, waiting for his food-giver to awaken. My phone was ringing, the loud buzz of the vibration enough to wake me up.\n\n\nIt was Kurt.\n\n\nHe was outside with coffee. Ready to help me move. As a surprise. To make up for last night.\n\n\nI wasn't even mad about having to clean the molasses off my phone.", "\"Leave here before sunset.\"\n\nCould it be the landlord? He said he was going to drop this afternoon to check the heater problem, but why would he want me out of the house? It didn't make sense.\n\nI checked the note again. It was weathered and the writing was smudged. This can't have been written recently. And in any case this was under the fridge, it couldn't have crawled under there. \n\n\"They will come for you too.\". \n\nOn second thought, this was probably a prank by the old tenant. The nice lady accross the hall had told me the whole story. I already knew the gist, this had been all over the news a few weeks ago. This was just a phycho's attempt to punk me. \n\nI crumpled the paper into a ball and through it in the trash bin. I didn't know if I felt sorry or angry at the guy. He was obviously sick and he needed help he never got. I continued cleaning and tried to forget about it.\n\nAfter an hour I had finished the living room and was ready to start cooking dinner. I poured some olive oil into the pan and started preparing the vegetables. And then the heater started going again. THUD... THUD... THUD...\n\nWhat could that even be? It was coming from the somewhere below the floor. The landlord would be here any minute now. The sooner it got fixed the better, because the thing was unbearable. \n\nTHUD... THUD... THUD...\n\n\"They will knock, until you feed them\"\n\nCould that be what the note was refering to? Poor guy, he was haunted by the heater noise.\n\nTHUD... THUD... THUD...\n\nI finished chopping the onions, threw then in the pan and started with the peppers. I looked out the kithen window and admired the view of the sun setting over the river. This place was excellent and quite a bargain too. I couldn't believe my luck. \n\nTHUD... THUD... THUD...\n\nDistracted by the spectacle of the sun, I clumsily run the knife over my finger. Ouch! It wasn't a deep cut but the thing started dripping blood. A few drops fell on the counter. I'd clean this up later, I wrapped it with a paper towel and rushed to the bathroom to get it treated. \n\nWell the home pharmacy wasn't stocked yet, but at least I had some alcohol, so I threw some on there and wrapped it with a fresh paper towel until the bleeding stopped. At least the heater noise had stopped. Let's go clean up and make that dinner.\n\nWhen I got back to the kitchen the sun was almost completely set. I turned on the lights and turned at the kitchen counter. And I froze in place. The counter was spottless, apart from the chopped pepper bits. No sign of blood. Not no the counter, not on the knife. \n\nI took a step back until my back touched the wall and I just sat there motionless. The only thing I could hear was the sizzling of the onions getting bunrned in the pan. I very slowly leaned and ventured a look at the living room. No one. I tip towed over to the counter, took the knife and turned off the stove keeping my eye on the living room. \n\n\"Is someone there?\"\n\nI immediatelly regretted that. If anyone was there I just alerted them.\n\nI took a glance at the counter again. How can that be? I looked at my hand. The paper towel had a small stain on it. I can't have imagined that. I distincly remembered the drops being there.\n\nI very slowly walked to the living room, knife still in hand. In what felt like a ages, I did a sweep of the whole apartment. No one. And then the door bell rang. I froze in place again. It rang again. \n\n\"Lori, it's me James\". \n\nThe landlord. Thank god. I rushed to the door and quickly opened it. I rushed outside in the hallway. \n\n\"Hey, hi. So the super is downstairs fixing that heater issue right now. He told me it was a faulty valve or something. It should be ready... Are you alright?\"\n\n\"Hi, yes... sorry... I just cut myself while cooking dinner\"\n\n\"Oh, let me see that. Do you need help? I can get some bandages for that\"\n\n\"No, no, it's fine. It has stopped bleeding already.\"\n\n\"Why do you still hold the knife?\" He asked with the an uneasy smile.\n\n\"Ha, I run to get the door and completely forgot about that. Wanna come in for a sec and tell me about that heater?\"\n\nWe both went back into the apartment. I got him an iced tea and he started talking about the maintenance on the heater. I didn't really hear him, while he was talking I was actually walking around the house checking every possible hiding place. There was no one there.\n\nWe talked for a few more minutes before he left. I had managed to pull myself together by then. \n\nI went back to the kitchen and opened the trash bin. I pulled out the note and looked at the last line again.\n\n\"You will only be spared once\"", "As I whip my platinum blonde hair up into a lousy ponytail and redo it because I can't stand weird hairs sticking out, I sigh heavily. I can't believe I've procrastinated it this long, but I know I only have a few weeks before my lease is up, so I really need to just clean this place out. Carefully, I lift a small box that has my beloved late grandmother's jewelry within from the nightstand and blow the dust that had accumulated off it. A soft pang hits my heart at her memory, and I pick up the photo I tucked up underneath the box and stare at her picture. I had placed this photo there when I first moved in because it hurt too much to look at it. She was so happy even at the end, and I miss her so dearly.\n\nI blink a few tears from my eyes and laugh at myself a little, but when my vision clears and I almost set the box back where it was, I notice there's a note on the nightstand. That's definitely not the way I fold paper--it has to be perfectly, crisply folded halfway down the middle. Besides the fact that my OCD is bothering me about it, I'm actually curious about the note. Maybe it was something my grandmother wrote?\n\nNo, this isn't her writing. I can tell as I open it up that it's not a note she left, either. I'm a bit disappointed but still intrigued. I almost can't read it because it was obviously written in haste, but I still make an effort to decipher it.\n\n\"I'm sorry I left the place a bit of a mess. I couldn't pay the rent any more and was evicted on short notice. My kids live downstairs with their father, and I was wanting to live close so I could see them and make sure he's taking care of them. I don't know why I'm writing this to a stranger, but I know I'm going to be out on the streets soon. I won't be able to take care of my babies.\"\n\nScrutinizing the note, I can see why it was really hard to read. The writer was crying--I can tell by the ripples in the paper and smeared ink--and my heart hurts even more. I almost don't want to keep reading; I was already choked up about my grandmother. I really hope this isn't a joke, but... It seems too sincere.\n\n\"I know you don't know me and I definitely don't know you, but please, check in on them once in a while? They're in room 113A, just below.\"\n\nMy mind's internal theater reels back to just last week when I noticed a couple kids playing out in the street and yelled at them. I really hope those aren't the same kids she's talking about. Wait. Am I actually even really considering this?\n\nI let out a deep, long sigh. He's probably moved out with them by now, right? I doubt it would be the same tenant, anyway.\n\nI don't know what's gotten into me, some sort of mixture of guilt and intrigue and impulse that I really don't like and can't control, but I find myself snatching my coat up and locking my door and walking down the stairs--and knocking on the door before I realize I've already done it. There's no going back now since the door handle's shaking.\n\nIt surprises me when I see a woman standing there. Obviously, it's not the same tenant.\n\n\"I'm sorry; I must've made a mistake,\" I murmur and turn, but I saw her looking at the note in my hand.\n\n\"You came?\" she asks with a look of shock in her eyes.\n\n\"Yeah, I um...\" I trail off and bury the note in my pocket. I forgot I had it, and I don't really know where I'm going with this. \"I accidentally buried it--had no idea it was there.\"\n\nSuddenly, she grabs my arm, but not threateningly. I'm captivated by her emotional gaze.\n\n\"There really are still good people out there,\" she muses. \"Please, come in. We're moving again, so it's a bit messy, but please pay no mind to it.\"\n\nI smile, reminded of her note, and enter her apartment. Why, I really don't know. There's no reason for me to come in, honestly. She takes my jacket and hangs it, and I have no say in the matter.\n\n\"By we, I mean my husband and I. We're back together now. And the kids are over at their aunt's so they don't have to deal with all this mess. Oh, and my husband's nephew is in town to help us clean up and get a move on, but we're almost done here. Would you care to meet him?\"\n\n\"Umm...\" It doesn't appear I have a say in this, either, because even though I stop following her, she brings her husband and his nephew in. I greet them in turn but have to admit that I can't keep a blush from my cheeks around the younger man. His medium brown skin has a golden glow to it, and his hazel eyes are startling against his darker features, unlike mine against my pale ones.\n\n\"I thought I heard you moving stuff up there, and he's young and capable, so he can help you move your things out,\" she insists, but I balk.\n\n\"Oh, it's fine. I'm perfectly fine,\" I say, and I feel the blush deepen and want to disappear. I should have stayed at home. I should have just stayed at home...\n\n\"Well, I'll say,\" the husband teases his wife and swoops her into his embrace before kissing her, probably so she wouldn't slap him. I feel very awkward and tense, though, and just leave, but I'm followed by \"nephew.\"\n\n\"I really don't need any help,\" I say and exit, but when I hear his footsteps after me a few moments later, I turn around and he's offering me my jacket. I didn't realize I had left without it, but I definitely didn't feel cold just then. Too hot from embarrassment to be cold!\n\n\"Sure about that?\" he smirks.\n\nAnnoyance sparks inside me, but mainly because I just don't want to be embarrassed, especially around someone so attr--I need to stop that thought where it's going. This whole ordeal has got to be the weirdest situation I've ever found myself in.\n\n\"I'll be fine,\" I insist.\n\nWhen I get to my apartment, that crumpled note I had in my pocket was now accompanied by a new one, and I'm pretty sure that's his number scribbled on it. I don't know whether to be flattered or annoyed by his persistence, but I think it's a combination of the two. Despite myself, as I lean back against my door, I smirk a little as well, knowing he thought I was cute, too.\n\nEven if I choose not to call him or if nothing comes of it if I do, at least that lady seems to have her happily ever after now, and I'm sure her kids are happier with both parents in the picture. No longer in my dismal, mourning episode I was in earlier over my grandmother, I go at my cleaning and clearing with renewed resolve. I do NOT need help!\n\n\n[First prompt. Sorry if it's a little lengthy. I couldn't sleep and wanted something to do. This was interesting enough, hahah! Hope someone gets some enjoyment out of reading this. I wanted to have some comical aspects, but I'm feeling moody, so I wanted some more emotion in it as well. Then again, it's 1:35 a.m. Why am I up again...?]", "\"Billy, did you get the boxes from the closet yet?\" That was Paul.\nPaul was my agent. And I'm Billy. Nice to meet you. I told him no and went back up the stairs.\n\nQuickly, I'm stacking the boxes outside of the closet. Putting the heavy ones on the bottom. Theres one more box by the air vent. Huh. Whats that hanging out of the vent. Looks like a shred of paper. I'm reaching to grab it...\n\n\"Hurry up, Billy! Your flight leaves in an hour and I'm not paying the change fee!\"\n\nLooks like old handwriting. Not mine. Maybe the previous tenants? Looks like it's in french. Fuck. I'm folding it up and stuffing it in my breast pocket. Grabbing the stack and heading down the stairs.\n\nGetting through the airport went about as well as those things can go. Nothing eventful. I've done it a hundred times this year. Its about time I got back to clear that place out. After finishing up the East Asian tour and I'd been going round Africa working with the Gates foundation to help provide vaccines and drinking water to the people there. I'm not going to lie to you. Africa is fucked up. \n\nAnyway I'd been keeping that apartment in Chicago for four years while I worked on my debut album. I practically built my career in that place. And here I was rushing away from home and into uncertainty. The Big Apple. New York. But I'm used to that. I relaxed into a deep recline in my cozy business class fare and slurped on a smoky bourbon. I like drinking whiskey when I fly. Calms the nerves. I picked that up from Rick Rubin.\n\nI'm reaching in my breast pocket and pulling out the letter. Its signed by a John Simon. I don't remember anyone Simon being on the list of previous tenants. The owner was Bob Masterson and I'd talked to him earlier in the week. Maybe John Simon was the previous owner...\n\nI'm pulling out my cell phone and starting to punch the french scribble into Google Translate.\n\n\"Another bourbon, sir?\"\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nBuyer beware,\n\nThis house is haunted. No, not haunted by a neat little ghost, who might make things go bump in the night, or clean your dishes or tidy your laundry or spill jars of beans all over the pantry or any of those strange but decidedly ghostlike things. This sprit is not here to tie loose ends, or finish business left unfinished during a human life on earth, for there is no human spirit behind the spirit of evil living here. This house is haunted by a terrible demon-king named Beleth, High Commander of 85 Legions in Hell, whom I have conjured here but never vanquished.\n\nThen there's strange text that doesn't look like french and its signed below.\n\nThe previous owner was a devil worshiper. \n\nI don't know much about devil worship, other than what I've learned from a few friends in the industry. Jean-Luc, who did my video for \"Under My Skin\" in the summer of last year was big into it. He gave me a couple old books, which I skimmed through on the set. He wanted to show me some symbolic ideas in one of the books in particular. We mostly just used some of the illustrations as visual guides for the costumes, and we borrowed a few of the titles for the engraving of the gold armor done in post production. \n\nBeleth. I'm trying to remember if I've ever seen the name. Beleth. Not ringing any bells. I should call Jean-Luc. I'm picking up my phone. To call him. It's ringing.\n\n\"Another bourbon, sir?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Billyyyy! How are you my friend! It's been a spell!\"\n\n\"I'm great. I'm headed on a jet-liner for New York, Jean. I'll be settling in to a new place there overlooking the Hudson.\"\n\n\"Ah! I'm on the island wrapping up some editing for a shoot I did this afternoon for a young girl with one hell of a voice box, if you know what I mean. You might like to meet her.\"\n\n\"What say we meet for dinner, Jean, and bring the girl.\"\n\n\"Hahah, where did you have in mind?\"\n\n\"This little place Rick turned me onto last time I was in the city. I'll text you the address. How about 9?\"\n\n\"Perfect.\"\n\nThe Uber driver dropped me off at the threshold, a stony brick building with iron gates. Two security guards stood outside the gates, but the gates were open, and the usher could be seen beyond the entrance at his podium. \n\nI'm walking to the usher, telling him the name.\n\n\"Right this way.\"\n\nI'm following down a long, bright corridor with chandeliers glistening from the ceiling.\n\nTBC\n\n\n\n\n", "I was glad I decided at the last second to open what I thought was apartment advertising spam. My new place was pretty nice, but they didn't clean it very well. As I was putting my dishes away on the I found a piece of paper that must have been from the previous owner. It said,\n\nOnce I found them, they wouldn't let me leave.\n\nOnce I couldn't leave they made me one of them.\n\nOnce I was one of them, I lured the next one in.\n\nI was a little puzzled by it, it was weird for sure but must have been some story they were writing and it somehow got into the cupboard. \nJust then I heard a thump from the bathroom, I froze and then slowly headed down the hallway, the only noise being the whisper of my socks on the carpet. Maybe it was the neighbors I told myself. I entered the bathroom and stopped to listen, the only sounds were the wind rustling the leaves outside my window and a car driving by. I shook my head and told myself it's just the sounds of a new place and turned back to the hallway, only to stop in shock as I saw a woman in the mirror standing in the bathtub behind me staring intently at me. Adrenaline sent my heart racing as I spun around with a high pitched curse only to find an empty bathtub. I swallowed a lump in my throat and stepped closer holding my hand out, as if she were still there but now invisible. My had encountered nothing but I saw on the floor of the tub two dirty footprints, I crouched down and swiped one of the footprints with my finger and looked at my now dirty fingertip. \nAs I stared at the dirt on my fingertip I heard the faint whisper of footsteps coming down the hallway, I stiffened and slowly started to turn when I heard a foot slide lightly across the linoleum behind me. Remembering the note I squeezed my eyes shut \"I don't want to find them\" I repeated to myself as I fumbled out of the bathroom. As I shuffled down the hallway, using the wall as a guide I felt the light brush of fingers caress my arms, as I came into the living room the caress became a light grip trying to slow me down. The rustling of the trees outside became more pronounced, almost sounding like words if I strained hard enough to make them out. I dared to squint to navigate the towers of boxes standing in the living room, making my way to the front door. Suddenly the light grip became a painful grasp while at the same time a tower of boxes tipped over into my path causing me to trip and fall over them. The rustling of the trees became the sound a rushing roar as they suddenly began whipping back and forth, the sound of words almost being easy to hear now. I didn't try to listen, the fingers that had grasped my arm now had my feet and were trying to pull me back down the hallway. I kicked my legs and managed to get to my feet, lunging the last few feet to the door, yanking it open and nearly falling out into the hallway beyond. The door slammed shut behind me and silence enveloped me. Holy shit, I thought, what the hell was that. I stood up and froze, I was somehow back in my living room, holding the dish I had before I found the note. I turned slowly towards the hallway that led to the bathroom as chills raced down my spine in waves. I heard a thump.", "\"I know how crazy this might seem, but the threat is all too real. You're the next owner of this apartment, now it's your turn to fight against the terror.\" My hands are stiff and my breath is baited. \n\nThis has to be a joke. I'm not in any real danger \n\nI am about to ball up the paper and throw it away when it starts to glow. I don't mean like a nightlight, I mean a powerful halo of light sprouting from the piece of paper itself. It could've been seconds, or minutes, or hours but after what could've been an eternity the light stopped and in place of the paper, a single silver key soundlessly fell to the floor. \n\nBlinking the spots out of my eyes I try to convince myself that this can't be real, that what I just saw was...a solar flare! That's ought to be it, and this key was my old key to my house! Right! Nothing out of the ordinary here! Half-crazed I pick up the key and toss it into an old box. Just a solar flare, that's all it was. Then I casually walk down to the ground floor with box in hand and start driving towards...Home? Where am I going? The bright light started up again, my vision starts to blur, I don't know who's driving. Groggily I tilt my head towards the driver seat. Who's driving!? I swear I was alone! Looking at the drivers seat my heart stops, I am driving, but I'm right here in the passenger seat My other self looks at me, where my pupils should've been was only that harsh light. My throat is sore, why does my throat hurt so much? The other version of me reaches over and touches my head whispering softly \"now it's your turn\" my eyelids forfeit control and I slump over. I feel my head bash against the glovebox. ", "Cleaning out my apartment always puts me in a sombre mood. The staticky radio in the kitchen is playing Fleetwood Mac. And is it over now, do you know how, pick up the pieces and go home. Pick up the pieces and go home. I toss more of my clothes that I haven't worn in years into a garbage bag destined for the women's shelter.\n\nI tried so hard to make this place a home for my boyfriend and I. Three years in this beautiful apartment together, three years of joy, laughter, and growth. I just don't understand it. Why the fuck would he leave me for that bitch waitress when we had something so good? I'm a great fuck, I satisfy him, I'm smart...I just don't know. I threw my old favourite dress into the garbage bag, the thin white summer dress I had on when I first him. Damn, no wonder he approached me at the park, I looked fucking great in that. I took it back out of the bag. Maybe I should give it another chance. Pick up the pieces and go home.\n\nNow that I think of it, I remember the landlord saying the couple that lived here before us had a major falling out as well. They were even married and had a little toddler. Maybe this apartment is cursed and splits up all rosy-eyed lovers who move in. I kept digging through my clothes pile and saw a piece of paper neatly folded together. I curiously picked it up and opened it. This wasn't my writing. This wasn't Franz's writing either. It must have been from before we moved in. Actually, it makes a lot of sense that it would be from the previous couple. All it said on it was:\n\n To do list:\n\n* ~~Delete Facebook~~\n\n* Renew gym membership\n\n* Book a meeting with my lawyer", "There was a pile of thrash behind the refrigerator when I moved it. Of course no one ever cleans behing appliances except for me, I thought to myself. I started picking up the big things first before I used the duster picker upper, and that's when I saw it. There was a coat hanger, screws, a spoon, a chopstick, lots of lint, and underneath it all, a piece of paper folded in half. It was a port-it note, actually, folded horizontally. Two words was all it had written down on it, two simple words that hold a lot of meaning. It must have been from the previous renter, probably slipped and slid under the fridge without noticing. \"Call mom.\" Good man, I said out lout. I'll go call my mom now, we all need a little reminder every now and then to call our mothers and just say hi. I know they appreciate it.\n", "\"There are...things following me,disturbing me. They seem to be everywhere; they whisper in my ears during a meeting at work, they move my personal things around, they sabotage everything. I know that I can never tell anyone, but I hope that the person reading this note can save himself. This apartment...it's haunted. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I hear them whispering near me, and the next moment, I hear either a loud bang or the shattering of glass as another glass cup falls to the ground. I've tried explaining to my best friend, Sam, but he has never believed me. Even when he actually witnessed a knife slide off the table and drop to the ground. I guess he just didn't want to accept the fact. Easy for him, for he did not have to live with the things. I have no actual names for them, as I have never seen them. They were like an invisible force. Why do I know that there's many of them? I hear their voices. Each and every one of them. A female's whine. A man's hoarse whisper. Why did I not leave the apartment? For there was this one, special female voice. She had always been the kindest of them all. Although I have not seen her, even the sound of her voice made me feel relaxed. I had thought that she was the kindest. I had thought that she was here to save me. But I was wrong. I am writing this note for you, just so that you would know - the kindest voice is the worst. Even now, I hear her, whispering in the sweet, kind voice ',It's no use, Alex, you cannot run away from us...we're a part of you now...we control you...' They're forcing me to stop giving a warning to you, but I know that I can hold it long enough...but I can't help it anymore...they've moved the rope and even the chair...\" I was slightly scared at first, but then I laughed. Seriously? The previous owner was trying to prank the new people with such a stupid note. \"The kindest voice is the worst?\" I said aloud in a sneering voice. And suddenly, I heard the shattering of glass...and then the voices started whispering.\n\n(This is my first time writing a prompt, so yeah...I kinda suck at it...)\n" ]	16
Basically, your inner beauty translates to your child's outer beauty. Your child is born hideous. You thought you lived a rather moral life, so you look back to figure out what could have prompted your child to be so unfortunate.	[WP] You live in a world where people's looks come from the morality of their parents, not genetic code. You, an attractive person, are about to become a parent. Your child is grotesque. You examine your life to figure out why.	[ "Written from the perspective of a female character born in the late 1980s\n\nI was sixteen when it happened.\n\nAt that time and age, bullying was common. Like, really common. I teased others about their looks, their hair, what polish they used or the bag they carried. I remember showing off my new projection TV to my friends on my birthday, laughing at the one which I knew didn't even have a television. I dared people to steal from the corner store, even though I never did. I was cold, calculating, and pushed others around.\n\nSomehow, I made my way to the top of the damn food chain.\n\nI was working late on an English assignment, with the clock ticking past two. Coffee was the only thing that kept me up as I thought and typed. Tucked beside my ear was my phone, and I was having a heated talk with Jen. Her. She was just simply lazy, refusing to pull her part in this group project. While I slaved away, she listened to crap on the radio and insisted that she'd be fine.\n\n\"Oh, I'll get it done by morning\". I could call bulls- on that, I swear.\n\nI was sick, I was frustrated, and I knew my voice carried power. Most people at school would listen to me, whether made up or true. If the project wasn't done, my grades would fall hard. And Dad would beat me to hell.\n\nIn desperation, I turned to the phone and spoke calmly.\n\n\"Listen, I know Max had fun with you last week. Lots of fun. And you know how Sally would feel if she heard that, right?\"\n\nI was true to an extent. Sally had seen Jen and Max talk for a moment after school, and she'd dismissed it quick. It would be easy to add on a few lies about seeing them go home that night and... the rumours would spread.\n\nSally was the head of the student council. What would happen to Jen would kill her... literally.\n\nJen hung up on me; she didn't say a word. I took that as a yes and assumed that she would do her work. It was a well-known fact that she had no friends, was a loner, and probably only talked to Max because she had to. But I didn't care.\n\nI made a few calls, quickly spread more rumours the next day. By afternoon, everyone knew.\n\nThe next day, she wasn't at school.. When I got home that night, I saw on the news that a sixteen year-old teenager was found dead on the freeway, having jumped onto the path of a moving Freightliner from the overhead bridge. People were questioned, but there was no note and no one at the school said a word.\n\nI came home scared that someone would call the cops on me, but no one did. Two years later, I'd already shrugged her off my mind. Four years later, she was a forgotten memory.\n\nShe was being stupid. It was her fault for getting herself into all that trouble.\n\nJen wouldn't come back to haunt me, right? I was wrong. Bloody wrong. When I saw the baby boy in my arms, I knew immediately that she had the last laugh.", "I held my newborn son in my arms and I loved him so much. It was plain to see he was grossly unattractive, even I, his own mother, could see it. His head was misshapen with chunky features seemingly to have been slapped on like great chunks of clay, his hair was a kinky black mess. The worst of his deformities were the two protruding bumps growing out the top of his forehead like horns. He was physical evidence of my demons, but I still loved him.\n\n I am a good person. There's no debating that, I just am. I volunteer, and donate to charities, I've never told a lie or intentionally been cruel to anyone. Just like my parents, I was a good person. This is why it hurt me so much when I was given stares of disgust from nurses, and when I was finally released, a nurse wheeled me out to my car and a stranger spit at my feet and told me I was a horrid person for doing this to my child. None of them knew. Knew how I sobbed for weeks on end during the pregnancy, or how a nurse who was with me from the start had held my hand in place of a husband or boyfriend, or how I thought about my choices so many, many times before I decided i was a good person and that wouldn't change. \n\nSo I had this child who was now faced with a life of torment, never knowing who his father was. I couldn't tell him if I even knew, that was still under investigation. It is apparent looking at my child, however, he was truly an evil man. The only confirmation I needed of that were the memories of his force as he violated me. ", "\"Ma'am, trust me, I believe you when you say that you've led a good life..\" said Dr. Miller, \"but you have to hear me when I say..\"\n\nDr. Miller was interrupted by Stella's tearful reply, \"I.. I..I've volunteered at the soup kitchen every weekend...sniff And I've never, NEVER walked by a homeless person without offering him a meal at a nearby restaurant..\"\n\n\"Stella, my dear, that's beside the point.\" Dr. Miller lightly set his hand on her shoulder. \"There are certain things that you can't..\"\n\n\"DON'T tell me what I can't do anymore!\" shrieked Stella. \"All my life, I've never even jaywalked or driven more than 1 mph over the speed limit!\"\n\n\nStella took a moment to gather herself and wipe away the thick tears that had made its way onto her smooth, floral dress. Mustering up what remained of her dignity, she looked up once more at Dr. Miller's musky, bearded face. \n\n\"I'm sorry I lashed out, Dr. Miller.. I promise I'm not usually this bitter. Please tell me though... how can my son be so...so.. deformed?!\"\n\n\"Well, as I was trying to say before,\" Dr. Miller hesitated briefly before he gave his answer.\n\n\"You shouldn't drink while you're pregnant.\"\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] "The living will avenge the dead."	[ "Kalab carried his spear as the fisherman carries his rod. Holding it tight in his right hand, he let the butt of the weapon rest on the ground. It had been years since he was a simple fisherman. Strange that he would think back to those times as he watched the enemy march toward him. \n\n\"Squads!\" A heavy voice called from Kalab's left. He turned, recognizing Field Marshall Blackstone from the paintings. A real Field Marshall? \"I'm in charge now, you will respond to my commands, understood?\" \n\nA roar of approval came from the men, likely relieved to see a Field Marshall in the battle. Perhaps hope had refilled them. \n\n\"In positions!\" Blackstone yelled. \n\nKalab stood still as men moved around him, shoving him left and right and left again. The orcs... how could one fight the perfect embodiment of a warrior? \n\n\"You there!\" Blackstone yelled out. The boy- man, now- turned. \n\n\"Yes, sir?\" He asked timidly. It came out far weaker than he wanted. \n\n\"Line up.\" The man had rode his mount, a fine stallion, to be right beside Kalab. \n\n\"Sir,\" Kalab tightened his grip on the spear. \"I'm, I'm scared.\" \n\nField Marshall Blackstone didn't say anything, instead looking out to the approaching orcish horde. \n\n\"Are we going to die?\" \n\nBlackstone looked back at Kalab. \"Not if we fight well.\" \n\nKalab swallowed, but he still felt a lump in his throat. The Marshall made a motion to mount up and Kalab hopped on his horse. \n\nAlmost immediately, the Marshall called for a ready check. Twelve voices, those of squad leaders, responded with readies. \n\n\"For Stormwind!\" The Field Marshall spurred his mount into a sprint and the men followed. Kalab did the same. \n\n\"Light save me,\" he whispered. ", "The iron gates bent and tore, screaming and bellowing as they collapsed. Taller than any building save the palace, they fell atop the houses. Those who had not had the good sense to make their way deeper within the city found themselves crushed or torn apart by flying shards of metal.\n\nKraden, the youngest son of the king, watched from the war room high within the castle palace. With the wall, he knew all hope for his city had fallen. The unthinkable had happened. The great city of Alhowell was defenseless. \n\nThe rubble from the crash finally ceased it's turbulence, and then only silence remained. No one moved. No one spoke.\n\nIt was the first time in a week that the horrific sounds of battle had not echoed through the city. \n\nThis, thought Kraden, is what it must be like to be inside your grave.\n\nThe silence was shattered by the loud cry of thousands of enemy soldiers charging over the destitute gates and into the great city.\n\nKraden turned and looked at the few men left with him inside the War Room. Their faces sunken; defeated. Save one man. He called over Commander Halfston.\n\nThe man limped over. He had begged to fight, but had been left to guard the city due to his old age. No one had actually thought it would come down to this. \n\n\"Halfston,\" Kraden spoke, \"I find it likely that my father is dead.\"\n\nHalfston nodded slowly. He had been a friend of the king. He hid his emotion well. Kraden hoped he did too. No one in this room could know that the only prince left alive was on the verge of despair. \n\n\"You are the last of your family sire. You are king now,\" said Halfston.\n\nKraden nodded. He had dreamed of this moment when he was a boy. Three brothers ahead of him, he knew he would never be king. But he had dreamed of it still. How those dreams had turned on him. He was not half the man his father had been.\n\nKraden looked down at the ring his father had given him. It had his father's crest. It had been his eldest brothers...and then he had died. It had been his brother Leune's, and then Derdrid's. Now it was his. \n\n\"Better men die so that we may live...\"\n\nHalfston put his hand on the new kings shoudler. \"We must become better men, to stand in their place.\"\n\nThe young king looked into Halfston's eyes, and took strength in his resolve.\n\n\"You are right. I must do what my brothers and father would not,\" he said, turning to face those gathered in the war room. \n\n \"I tell you now, I break the sacred vows of my family. I renounce the oath that I took as a boy!\" he shouted. \"I will take up the Blood Stone, and use it against the enemies that threaten our city. Today the dead will help the living to avenge them!\"\n\nHalfston turned and looked down on the battlefield he had always called home. \"And afterwards, if its powers corrupt you?\"\n\n\"Then a better man,\" said Kraden, \"must take my place.\"", "\"... and the dead shall defend the living!\" Came the second half of the toast. The dozen or so beings knocked back glasses of dark amber liquor, slamming them to the table with a gunshot.\n\nThey were all human except for the lone female Bothan, a head shorter than the rest with fur the color of sand. Most wore some kind of armor, even if it was merely some reinforced ballistic cloth. A Pyro-Drake in his scorched leathers and flame retardant suit did show a flicker of emotion as the burning whiskey worked its way down his throat while the female Thresher-Serpent coughed slightly, her light blue durasteel plate decorated with numerous markings painted in crimson. Two Corpse-Wolves were seated next to one another, their battered armor hidden underneath a layer of leather and filthy cloth, various totems and battlefield trophies hanging from their belts and shoulder harnesses. Both wore beards, one streaked heavily with gray. The rest of the humans wore their own armor, usually with some badge or cloak to proclaim their clan allegiance.\n\nAll took their seats, pints of dark beer arriving from the barmaid with words of thanks. No one spoke as they drank deep, wiping away the tan heads of foam from their lips.\n\n\"So tell me Ghast,\" one of the ragged looking Corpse-Wolves asked. \"What exactly do you have planned? I imagine there's more to this meeting than to remember old times.\" \n\nThe man with the white hair dyed dark smiled grimly; war was an ever present companion to an Ord Ivrishman.\n\n\"What do you think of Sluis Van?\"\n\nA galloglas armored in mirror-mail snorted at Tomess Ghast's words.\n\n\"Typical, he answers a question with another. Sluis Van, homeworld of the Sluissi, reptiles, some of the galaxy's best engineers and who aligned themselves with the Separatists during the Clone Wars. They own some of the largest shipyards in the galaxy...\" The mercenary stopped as he considered his words.\n\nGhast smiled. \n\n\"I have certain buyers who want particular... items, including ships. And their willing to pay for them. They've hired me to see about stealing one or more warships from their docks, leaving the actually planning and execution to me.\"\n\nThe Pyro-Drake named Mecgreg spoke up, his ashy voice a deep baritone.\n\n\"These friends... they wouldn't happen to be Rebels would they?\"\n\nGhast spread out his hands palm up, smiling amiably at the assembled. \n\n\"Maybe, but the point is that they have the credits to pay, good imperial credits, though who knows how much those will be worth in the next ten years. They're offering to pay half of what the ships are worth to us, Ord Ivran. Millions of credits, just ripe for paying for arms and supplies.\"\n\nThe first Corpse-Wolf, Gavin Guinn spoke again, a frown on his face.\n\n\"Do you have a target in mind?\"\n\nGhast pulled a miniature holo-projector from his pocket, thumbing on before sliding it onto the middle of the table. In a faint hiss of light a blue shape took form, a long dagger like warship that rotated slowly to show its handsome lines. \n\n\"Vindicator-class heavy cruisier, hull number 67221, rumor has it that it that its planned commissioning name will be the Indefatigable. Actually isn't a terrible name for a ship, not with such pleasant names like Agonizer, or Mauler elsewhere in the Imperial Navy. Crew of just under three thousand, since it's in dry dock that number will be significantly less and mostly just workers. I think a company of actual soldiers would be on board. Whilst the serious planning will have to happen later, I propose we board, steal it and jump to hyperspace. My sources tell me that it is ninety percent complete and most of the unfinished work is things such as living quarters and the like. All the weapons, shields and engines are fully installed.\"\n\n\"Sluis Van,\" Mecgreg said rubbing his chin. \"It's not Kuat by half but there's still a sizable amount of Imperial forces there, at least an entire system fleet if not a sector one.\"\n\nGhast leaned closer as if he had a secret he'd only share with the Pyro-Drake.\n\n\"I know, that's why I intend to strike on the same day they have the first hyperspace jump test, I hear that the governor of Sluis Van will be making a state visit; they wouldn't dare on shooting their own governor if he's hostage.\"\n\nA few murmurs went around the table as they discussed it amongst themselves. Ord Ivrish mercenaries were remarkably egalitarian off the battlefield but keep hard to a strange form of discipline in the heat of battle.\n\nThe Corpse-Wolf Gavin Guinn turned to face Ghast, his cold stare as brutal as any northern wind. \n\n\"We're interested. Now what exactly is the plan...\"" ]	3
	[WP] You're the popular "party kid" in school, who's trying desperately to hide his/her social anxiety issues.	[ "This is what I always wanted, right? To be “popular.” To be a “cool kid.” So... why don't I feel like one? The constant high fives, good natured ribbing, the texting back and forth for hours, the parties. Oh god, the parties. Out of control at someone else's house every weekend. It's not a party unless I show up, right? They all love me. So why don't I? I look in the mirror and just... just hate what I see. It doesn't feel like me. But they can't know that. No one can know. \n\n\nI'm “the funny one.” You know, the comedian. Always smiling, ready with a witty remark or some clever line to drop. I live to entertain, of course. It gives them all something to pay attention to, other than “me.” If they did pay attention to “me,” instead of the jokes, they wouldn't want me around as much.\n\n\nThe girls all love me, for some reason. They think I'm cute, I guess. I don't see it. I don't... I don't understand why they like me when I don't even like me. Of course, I can't get too close to any of them. If I did... if I did they would see that I'm nothing like they think I am and they would just leave. They would probably tell everyone what I'm like under the mask and that's not a risk I can take. So I make them laugh for a little while, and move on to the next group.\n\n\nFriends. Like, real ones? Don't even think about it. Arms length is perfectly acceptable for them. Any closer and I cut and run. They all think they know me, but they think a lot of things that aren't true. They always try to get me drunk at the parties, and I let them think they succeed. They think I'll be even funnier. Truth is, I've been drunk all of one time and never want to be again. I forget to not be me. The people around that time said I get sad when I'm drunk. That's not entirely accurate. I just stop hiding it.\n\n\nOkay, I'm approaching the door. Take a breath and get into character. \n\n\n“Hey, you bastards! It's time to get this party started! Do I have a joke for you...”", " We raise our glasses. “To Jake!” they all scream. I finally made it. I am the popular kid. I had dreamt of this for all of my miserable school years from sixth grade all the way through high school graduation. All of those years when the cool kids would taunt me: make fun of my glasses, my braces, how skinny I was. Yet, here I stood surrounded by friends and acquaintances that looked to me as their leader. “Cheers to me,” I thought as I poured the burning liquid down my throat. \n \n\n This is how it always goes. I put on a smile and my overpriced clothes. The shirt fits tight over my arms and shoulders I have spent thousands of hours sculpting. I look in the mirror and barely recognize who I am looking at. This is “cool.” I don’t feel cool. \n \n\n I keep my old driver’s license hidden away in my wallet. Sometimes it is necessary to refresh my memory; to see what I came from. I hold it in my shaking hand, looking into the eyes of a frail 15 year old. Why did he pick such hideous glasses? Green bands on your braces. Man, you must have been the coolest kid around. And why don’t you eat more? You’re built like a girl and you’re probably weaker than one. I tuck the memory back in my wallet and spray my hundred dollar cologne a couple of times before I walk through it and out the door. Next comes the hard part. \n \n\n I drive as slowly as I can to the “pre-game house.” We always start in the same place before the walk to the bars. There was nowhere for me to hide. At the bars, I can run to the bathroom or relax outside for a few minutes without drawing any real attention. Here, all eyes are on me. \n\n\n I walk in and people cheer. “About time you showed up, fucker!” My friends always give me shit. I quickly throw back some witty, offensive response, the same shining smile plastered on my face. I look around at all of the glazed-over eyes staring back at me, ecstatic that I have finally blessed them with my presence. I haven’t been drinking. The first drink is always the hardest. \n \n\n I quietly pour a shot for myself in the darkest corner of the kitchen, hoping no one will notice. I hide my trembling hands as I carefully pour the ice cold liquor into a small glass. All I need to do is take this shot, go outside, vomit it back up, and then the party can begin. \n \n\n This was my ritual, you see. Everyone has a ritual. As soon as I take the first shot, the anxiety overcomes me. I feel all of their eyes boring into me. I need to escape. I need to void my body of this terrible feeling. So I vomit. It’s not too bad. The worst part is that I have to do it and I have to make sure nobody knows I’m doing it. I feel free once it’s done. I can lead this gang of hooligans to anywhere in the world. But I have to vomit first. \n \n\n I always dread it: the first shot. It’s almost like a trigger. I know what is coming, and I know I have to do it. Better here than in some bar, I suppose. As I raise my glass to my mouth I hear, “Hey man! You can’t do a shot without the rest of us!” Ah, of course. What was I thinking? \n \n\n So here I am, smiling for these people who think I’m the kind of guy you should toast to. None of them know what I am. I can almost feel the smiling fifteen year old shaking in my back pocket, crying as the cool kids circle around him. This is not where I belong. I have spent years trying to get here, and here I am. I watch them all throw their heads back, swallowing this harsh liquid that is (for some reason) dedicated to me. I don’t understand it, and I don’t think I ever will. As I tilt my head back and feel the whiskey rush into my mouth, I know: this is what the cool kids do. \n" ]	2
	[WP]After death you enter the pearly gates of heaven- Only to find out god was very recently killed and heaven is at war will hell.	[ "The chaos threatens to envelop you in its madness immediately. Spinning back and forth trying to to get your bearings as your feet slide on the blood-soaked clouds beneath you. The desperation in your mind takes control as you claw your way over bodies and the screaming wounded. The Gates. You have to get to the Gates. From under a pile of twisted human ruin a hand reaches up and grabs at your ankle, grasping harder and harder as you try to crawl away. Looking back you seen the stunning eyes of a beautiful young woman, her white robes caked with blood. \"Help. Me,\" she whispers forcefully. A decision forms in your mind, and you reach back and drag her from the mess. Hand-in-hand you both stumble toward the Gates, dodging swords, bullets, and fire through the smoky fog settling over you. Finally to the Gates, you push her down into the ground and tell her to stay out of sight. You tell her you're coming right back and you mean it. She doesn't believe you, but she doesn't have a choice. Deftly, you begin to climb to the top, calling upon all the good fortune of a good life to protect you from the projectiles ricocheting all around you. At the top, you grip the spike cresting the pillar, and snap it off clean. The demons nearby plunge their swords into their latest victim and take notice of you, foolishly climbing to...where? they wonder. Below you the girl has had her worst fears confirmed as it appears you're about to swing over the Gate and vanish, but instead...you drop purposely back inside, landing heavily nearby. And her face lights up as you approach her wildly, hand outstretched, only for you to plunge the spike into her heart. Her eyes fly open and her mouth stutters as she grips wildly at your robes, blood flowing freely, spurting onto your face. \"Why...?\" she manages to gasp as the life fades from her face. \"There's never been a good man that won a war,\" you say to her limp body as your skin scales and teeth bare into fangs. ", "Look at the earliest written document that humans know of. Sumerians created it, a tablet engraved with the names and powers of all their Gods. Now look at the second written document that humans know of. Directly underneath the Sumerian writing is one in another language, translating roughly to: 'Hey, these aren't our Gods... kill the Sumerians!'. \n\nSince the dawn of time, boys grew into men through defending their nation. The lucky ones survived and grew old, old enough to start their own wars that the new wave of men could fight in. Vicious cycle, like a high-powered washing machine. \n\nNow, recall that humans are created in God's image. Well, a species that hasn't not been killing one another at some place or another for any amount of time seems a bit violent. Would it not make sense then, that God is violent? \n\nHumans ask, so often, what's the point of life? What's the meaning of it all? \n\nI put forth to you, that the meaning of life is to fight, become a great soldier, then die and fight for God. You think he created you out of love? You? Your mother hardly puts up with you, forget the Big Man Upstairs. \n\nTrain. Kill. Send Souls to God. Die. Go to God. Fight for God. \n\nVicious cycle, kid. Now shut up and go shoot some people. ", "They said my soul was hollow.\n\nHollow, like an empty flask, my life and soul poured out to leave the shell. They said that it was the crimes I committed, back when my feet trampled the soil of earth that tainted me. They say a lot of things in the afterlife, in the lands of the dead.\n\nIf my soul was hollow, than the others were blackened, damned and terrible. I'd rather be empty, than full of misery, and fragments of the damned. \n\nThere was no way out. \n\nHeaven and Hell are similar in that regard, the only difference is that Heaven remembers who they were, and Hell is what Heaven once was. To leave... well, after a few decades, most don't even consider it an option any longer. It's just a dream, dead and left behind. Once you pass the gates, they close behind you, trapping you in.\n\nIt wasn't an easy life that the world between had granted, but perhaps earth had been the real heaven. I often wondered if that was true, and all this time we'd had it wrong.\n\nEach day I watched as more, and more souls burst from the corpse of god- tiny fragments burning out like cinders to rain down through the cracks of the ancient gate- or out into the cloud cover sky of gray. Whatever it had once looked like, now it was a flame- a massive fire that flickered and flowed against a body within, slowly shrinking. No one I met could tell me how god had died, only that it had. Some of the newer faces, those that came long after I, call it heat death and the end of everything. They knew so much more than I ever did when I was truly alive, but they die all the same, fallen on the battle fields of glory, slipping through the blood soaked ground to rain down on hell below.\n\nWar was upon them, how long it had been there I was never told- but civilizations had come, gone, and fallen in-between. \n\nI learned quickly that Heaven was not victorious, nor were they all powerful. All it took was the death of a single Angel, its scream cutting to my very core, mortality flashing through my mind in a deep note of horror. Fear in the most primal and terrible of ways, that my very existence was in resistance to the obvious, that my fate could not be avoided- not now, not ever. Heaven was no longer holy, it was simply the army of those who had yet to fall. \n\nRuined and crumbling architecture was everywhere, massive structures that had once defied logic in their enormity- thousands upon thousands of them. Their towers reaching up into the sky- now manned by archers, raining down bolts of light to the fields of battle below, outside the walls. Fields were armies clashed, eternally struggling.\n\nHell was winning the war, even as the Angels wrecked their armies, their soldiers melting under the light of pure and noble. Miracles they called these things, not magic but miracles. \n\nI had neither of those, nor the blessings of a god long dead. All I ever had was a sword, and in its rusted and chipped metal, I had no such blessings, just blood and souls. That was what made hell so strong, their souls were wasted and ripped to tiny rotten pieces- just enough to come back again, and again... and again.\n\nEventually they would dissipate to nothing wisps too frail to stay wafting out into the sky- gone forever. That was a slow process, and it started with death. \n\nDeath in the heavens, who would have imagined such a thing?\n\nThe afterlife was far worse than I could have known, but my life before had prepared me well for it. I survived battle after battle, enlisted to rally under the great Angelic figures. Their wings and songs pierced me to the core, knew me for what I was, and told me it was of no consequence. I did not swear to them, but l fought. What others ignored, I could see, and I needed no motivations of blessings or faith to grant me eternal salvation once this war was done. It would never be done- perhaps it had always been, the Angels could keep their secrets, all but one.\n\nWith each demon that fell to my blade, I felt it. A slow trickle, a tiny breeze, a small fraction of something long dead, but not quite gone. In its metal I felt them stick. Pieces of long lost life. It became a vessel.\n\nIt took me years, perhaps decades, perhaps centuries, but one day I found I had enough. I simply knew. That sword had traveled with me long enough, and I knew it well. We were the same.\n\nIn my hands I held the weight of a single soul. A small thing, frail and weak, but it was a vessel, pieced together by the fragments of the damned, but it was whole, pure.\n\nAs the battles raged on, I slipped away from the fighting, past the great walls I defended, past the corpse of god that streams and glowed with a dying magnificence, ever fading into the black. I returned to the first thing I remembered, to stand at the ancient gates, their metal old and worn, tall and strong, watching as ghostly trails of god whispered on past, sucked through by the cool wind into that, which is beyond.\n\nA true life must pass for these gates to open, a life that wasn't empty. I'd pried that knowledge out of what little I could find, what little I'd heard and learned. The Angels could not leave, the demons could not escape- for the first had never been alive, and the second had lost its chance. To enter here was to be trapped forever, as your life had passed, and there was none left to give but the hollow shell that carried on.\n\nI looked upon my blade, staring at the curious light. It was much like a torch, with its horrible metal glowing with the red of blood and heat. Thousands had fallen to it, and it had stolen a piece from every single one. Now, it was time to take just one more.\n\nIt hurt, but I knew it would. The metal slid in like the pain of an old love, the burning of loss. I had died this way before.\n\nPerhaps that is why it had come with me, a companion in this strange place.\n\nAs the gates opened, as the mind faded, as each step more difficult than the last, I felt my being whisper away, burning like smoke on a cinder. Perhaps I would awaken in hell, with no memories of who I was, or where I'd been. Perhaps it had all been for nothing, a foolish gamble misguided by lies.\n\nEach step into the gray fell darker, until nothing but black remained, and the endless curse of the mind became smoke on a cinder and the cries of a child cut through the silence.\n\nThe wailing sounds of a newborn babe, covered in his mother's blood, gasping the air of mortals, and screaming a song of victory. \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] The full sweep of human history is actually a big budget summer blockbuster for an alien species. Write the film critic review.	[ "\"Humanity has it all - Comedy, Romance, Drama and Action, all rolled into one! The graphics are so realistic you'll feel like you were actually Human. Experience the excitement of harnessing fire for the first time, the drama and intrigue of the births of whole civilizations. Witness the wonder of a primitive race as it looks out at the stars, tries to reach them, and fails. Feel the devastation of global warming from start to watery finish. Laugh at the increasingly ridiculous reasons the Humans create for wars and cry as they rip their own civilizations down around their ears time and time again.\"\n\n\"I loved it as much as Humans love Oil!\"\n\n\"I'd never have guessed it, but Humanity made me feel genuine feelings about a race entirely focused on its own self-serving pleasures and bent on its own destruction.\"\n\n\"Stebloop Spielbloop is a master of cinema! He created an entire universe to stand as a counterpoint to our own existence!\"", "3/5 - The beautiful filmography and moving moments do not make up for the incomprehensibility of the plot. \n\nFirst off, I liked this film. The Roman Empire sent tingles through my tentacles. I was on the edge of my seat for the War of the Roses. I laughed with the rest of the theatre at Genghis Khan's humorous quips. I cannot even criticise the romantic side-plots. They were credible, tastefully executed, and did not detract from the main plot (we'll get to that later). Which one of us did not feel our lacrimal pouches swelling at that Christmas scene where German and British troops put down their weapons and shook hands like brothers. Humanity: Birth to Ashes succeeded in depicting the excitement and primal rawness of the human existence.\n\nBut where there is kindness and altruism, there is also evil, war, disease, and cruelty. Why did that little boy die from cancer? Why did they never stop killing each other? Can't they see they are harming the planet in such a way that will impact the next generations? Why don't they ever learn? From the early invention of rudimentary tools, to intragalactic exploration, humanity does not fundamentally change. At the end I was left wondering - what was the point of it all?", "Earth: Rise and Fall of a Species, the newest summer blockbuster from the team that brought you Life on Mars, has experienced a lukewarm response from critics and audiences alike, but if you go into the film expecting very little, you may come away pleasantly surprised. \n\nSpoiler Warning\n\nNo matter which side of the debate you’ve taken, no one can deny that this was truly an ambitious undertaking. While the last film in the series focused primarily on geological formations and basic life forms, this film choose to up the ante with the inclusion of complex organisms based on an element different from our own (carbon, for the super fans out there). I’d prefer not to spoil too much here, but the climax of the movie, made possible by the late addition of technological and militaristic advances, was a stroke of brilliance, and the ensuing action scenes have already become a cinematic benchmark –it was without a doubt the greatest sequence of action set pieces ever put to film and will leave you shaking in awe. I say that with no hyperbole.\n\nThat aside, there was plenty here that didn’t work for me. Pacing issues abound, and the substantial time spent focusing on tribes and shamanism was disappointing, and turned the largest portion of the movie into a slog. The plot meandered all over the place; we spent considerable time witnessing the birth and death of several civilizations, anyone of which could and should have revealed themselves to be our protagonists. Each one turned out to be just another red herring. I’m still scratching my head trying to figure out why the director felt the need to spend so much time on the development of Rome just to cast it away in the least heroic way possible.\n\nThe majority of the criticism, though, is aimed at the development of our primary species: the humans. I am not sure exactly what the directors were going for here. Historically speaking, films in the Societal genre are moralistic tales and have been created to reflect our own short comings. The idea is to give us as an audience something to think about and perhaps an idea with which we can better ourselves, but there were almost no similarities between the humans and our own species so what were they trying to say? The fatal flaws of the human species were its tribalistic tendencies and ideological diversity. The species organized itself into groups biased upon arbitrary values such as color, gender or the particular Earth environment in which they happened to be born. Even worse, this species apparently can’t help itself but to make up an infinite amount of answers to a single question, leaving us with a remarkably convoluted and confusing story driven mostly by misunderstandings and blind, stupid hatred. How nonsensical is that? There is absolutely no species in possession of these flaws that could possibly rise to the point that we have in our development, so was this movie made merely so we can pat ourselves on our backs, or was it supposed to be some sort of ‘what if’ scenario? What a waste. If the finale hadn’t been so phenomenal, this misstep by the director and screenwriter would have been unforgivable.\n\nSo, you’ve been forewarned: if you’re going into this film expecting to think, you’re going to leave disappointed. But, this film is a truly visual experience, and if you’re the kind that is entertained by extraordinary battle scenes, than this film is for you. I recommend seeing it in 3d. I give this film 4 pulsars out of 5, but if the last few hundred years hadn’t been so exciting it would have been lower. \n\t\nThis has been Gleebo, and I’ll see you at the movies! \n\t\n" ]	3
	[WP] Create an emotional short story using ONLY sixty-six words	[ "Her story was sad, so I offered her a safe place to stay. I thought she would get better, but she always needed more emotional support. I hate to see her upset, so I provided it even when I didn't mean it. Now, I'm standing with her. Her eyes are so full of hope. \"I do,\" I say even though I don't really love her. Coward. " ]	1
	[WP] Much to your frustration, every lie you tell turns out to be true.	[ "Lets be honest, I've always fancied myself as a writer. \n\n\nThe transition into normal adult life was a killer for me. In order to have a place to call my own, I had to get a job, obviously. This led many excuses towards my coworkers as to why i couldn't hangout with them on the weekends, or towards my friends as to why i couldn't party. Anyways, recently i was approached by an old hooded man. I recall this experience as quite odd.\n\n\n\"Hey son, get over here\"\n\nWhat in the hell?\n\n\nI turned around at an incredible rate of speed. A literal snap in my neck with the velocity of my spin had me questioning my calling in life for a moment.\n\nI should just live off the land in South America\n\nMy eyes met a frail looking old man, perhaps 20 paces behind me.\n\n\n\"Uhm, yes sir?\" My reply was a few seconds late to my embarrassment. (Sometimes i get too caught up in my thoughts)\n\n\n\"You do not understand the meaning of fellowship boy, I've been sent to correct your disorder\"\n\nand with that said, He smacked me across the face so hard that it corrected my slouching posture.\n\nI thanked him and hurried home.\n\n\nJust as i sat down with my evening glass of chocolate milk, and flipped my laptop open, I heard slight buzzing. I got up to locate the the cause of this sound (I like to think my life is exciting). It turns out that my friend from work, Herbert was calling me. I proceeded to groan and hit accept on the call.\n\n\n\"Yes, Herbie, what is it?\"\n\n\"Hey Charley, wanna hangout? Maybe take me to the hospital or something? I think i have a slight skull fracture\"\n\n\"Dude, sorry I can't. I have dinner with my mom planned tonight.\"\n\nand with that i hung up the phone.\n\n\nAs soon as i placed the phone on the dresser, It began to vibrate again. To my surprise, the caller ID read \"MOM\". I rolled my eyes and picked up the phone.\n\n\"Yes mother?\"\n\n\"Charley! Where are you?\"\n\n\"Uh, i'm at my house, why?\"\n\n\"You were supposed to meet me for dinner 30 minutes ago! Get your ass up here this instant!\"\n\n\"Uh, i'm sorry mom, I actually found a girlfriend just now. I'll give you money for whatever you decide to get.\"\n\nAnd i hung up the phone. \n\n\nThat was incredibly weird, I don't remember setting up those plans\n\n\nI reclined my chair and took a sip from my no longer chilled, lukewarm chocolate milk, and opened up r/writingprompts. This was what i had been waiting all day for, my escape. As i went on my daily trek to find a prompt that didn't have anything to do with Nazi's, my doorbell rang.\n\n\"For the love of god!\"\n\n\nThis time i voiced my frustration to my Spiderman collectible stuffed toy, as it's the only humanoid looking noun in my apartment. I set aside my lukewarm milk and my laptop and drudged with a heavy heart to the door and asked, \"Who is it at this hour?!\"\n\n\n\"Open up, silly! It's your girlfriend Catherine! I'm moving in!\"\n\n\nThis time, a chill shot up my spine, Sort of like those \"swing the hammer\" games at the state fair. I reluctantly unlocked the door, and opened it to see what kind of relationship my tedious lying got me into. (At this point, I understood what was happening) \n\n\nThe woman standing at my doorstep was in no way ugly. She was wearing a PINK tank top and white jogging shorts. She had a slim figure, but a great figure indeed. Her brunette hair was tied up into a bun, and her eyes beamed at me the way i've never seen a female look at me before. \n\n\nCharley, listen to yourself right now. Your conscious. This girl is GORGEOUS, and you should definitely take her out for coffee or something tomorrow. But there is no way in hell we are giving up our quiet time tonight. Think of all the potential prompts! Think about sharing your space and losing that!\n\n\n\"Sorry, babe. You can't move in today. You didn't know that i have a roommate?\"\n\n\nThe girl frowned, and opened her mouth slightly as if to think about what she was going to say next.\n\n\n\"I think we should just stay friends if you aren't ready for a commitment with me\"\nShe hit me with a reply.\n\n\n\"Okay, whatever. Have a nice night bitch.\"\n\nI slammed the door behind me.\n\n\nI collected myself, and sat back down in my recliner. Gathered my now room temperature milk and my laptop, and finally began my night. I found an interesting prompt regarding Godzilla vs. Mr. T, and chuckled at the ridiculousness of the prompt. Just as i was finishing up my over the top laugh, (I had been through a lot that day) Something crashed into my laptop, and spilled my chocolate milk all over my clothes.\n\n\nI looked down to see my Spiderman stuffed toy looking up at me.\n\n\n\"Is something funny, roomie?\"\n\n\nI screamed.", "\"Are you sure you can't make it to the movies, man?\" Roy asked through the phone.\n\nI faked a sneeze, sniffing a bit, \"No man, sorry. I'm sick, and my cats sick too, he threw up all over the living room and I gotta clean it up. I hear the theater is shut down anyway, a massive slushie machine leak.\"\n\nIn truth, I just wasn't feeling in the mood for movies today, I had just bought the new Call of Duty, and I was intent on playing it all night. \n\nAfter hanging up the phone, I stood up. Suddenly, I wasn't feeling too well. I sneezed once, and then again, and again. A bit of snot dripped from my nose. Gross. But that's strange, am I actually getting sick?\n\n It was meant to be a lie but maybe I've got some great timing or something. Sick or not, I was going to play that game. I make my way to the living room, excited. However, when I entered the room, I had to cover my nose, almost gagging.\n\n\"What the fuck?\" I look around the room. On every surface there was cat barf. It was on the seats, the table, the TV, and even on my game console. \"Shit!\" I say, rushing over to it, but with nothing to wipe it off with, I just stood there awkwardly.\n\nI looked for Whiskers. \"Whiskers, here buddy, tch tch!\" I heard a weak meow from behind the couch. I looked and there was my cat, surprisingly the only thing in the room not covered in his lunch. He looked terrified. I reach for him, picking him up, \"Hey, shhh, it's okay buddy, it's okay. Everything's alright.\" \n\nAs I bring my head back from behind the couch, I almost drop Whiskers. I could have sworn everything was covered in... \"Man, maybe I need to lay down...\" Maybe I really was sick. Whiskers looked up at me and purred, as if the horrors he had felt never happened. He seemed more concerned for me.\n\n\"I'm fine buddy, I'm glad you're okay too.\" I thought to lay down but suddenly I felt better. Looks like I had time to play my game after all. I start it up and jump into a multiplayer session. It was a new Call of Duty but they're basically the same each year anyway, so it's easy to rack up a nice score with kills.\n\n\"Oh my gaaaaawd,\" a voice cracks through mic static, \"Stop knifing meeee.\"\n\n\"Fuck off kid,\" I say, \"I fucked your mom last night and she said she's concerned that you're too much of a little bitch.\"\n\nAfter a while of playing, I heard movement from my room. That was strange, as I was the only person home right now, and Whiskers was beside me. Suddenly, the my door opens and a woman I've never seen before steps out, half dressed.\n\n\"Hi there, big guy.\" She says sleepily, yawning. \n\n\"Woah! Who the hell are you?!\" I say, shocked.\n\nShe looks at me, confused, \"Don't you remember? I'm xXQuickscoperXx's mother.\" Her look of confusing turning into a playful smile, \"I'm sure you remember the fun we had last night.\" \n\nI have no clue what she's talking about. Suddenly, I think back to the player I was talking to earlier, his name and then I realize...\n\n\"Oh my god.\" I say aloud.\n\n\"I know,\" She says, walking over to me, she sits close beside me, too close.\n\n\"Why don't we carry on from last night.\" She whispers into my ear, purring playfully.\n\nI move my head away slightly, \"No! We ah, we can't do that.\" \n\n\"And why not?\" She says seductively, inching herself closer to me. \n\nI had to think of something to get her to leave. \"Well uh, it's just, you should go. My mom is going to get back like, any minute now and she'll kill me if she finds you.\"\n\nAs soon as I finished the sentence, I heard the door open. \"Hello, I'm home.\" That voice, it belonged to my mother. She wasn't actually supposed to be back until way later tonight! \n\n\"Shit!\" I say, looking back to xXQuickscoperXx's mother, \"Quick, you have to hide!\"\n\n\"Where?\" She says in a cute tone, the seriousness of the situation clearly not reaching her. \n\n\"I don't know,\" I say, \"Just go back to my room, quickly!\" \n\nAs soon as she closed my room door, my mom entered. \"Hey sweetie, how are you?\"\n\n\"Ah, hey mom, whatsup?\" I say nervously. \"Back early, huh?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" she said disappointedly, \"me and the girls really wanted to see the movie, but the theater had closed because one of their machines was leaking.\"\n\nThat sounded familiar...\n\nMom sniffs. \"Sweetie,\" She says, sniffing closer to me, \"Do I smell... Woman perfume on you?\" \n\n\"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Maybe?\" I say.\n\n\"Why?\" She asked.\n\n\"No clue.\" I lie. \n\nShe laughs, \"Well, as long as you don't have a woman in your room or something, I suppose it's okay if you're wearing perfume for whatever reason.\" she says, patting my head.\n\n\"Yeah...\" I say, but suddenly I didn't remember why I smelled like perfume anyway.\n\n\"After all, if you had a woman in here,\" Mom tells me, \"I'd have to kill you.\"\n\nHearing that gave me a chill, and she pats my head again, \"Anyway sweetie, since I'm home I'll get to making supper.\" She leaves the room.\n\nI decide to go take a nap before supper. As I enter my room, there is a woman I've never seen before in my bed. She's in a sexy pose, staring intensely at me.\n\n\"So,\" She says with a seductive voice, \"Where were we?\"\n_______________________________________________________\n\nI've been up since 4AM, I have no idea what I just wrote.", "\"I didn't do it!\" I yell with the perfect measure of indignation and desperation, slamming my hands against the table gleaming table surface. The cuffs bite into my wrists.\n\n\"Sir!\" A suited man I sunglasses opens the door and slips into the room, addressing the similarly suited man sitting across from me. \"The footage was successfully recovered. It wasn't him.\"\n\nWait, what?!\n\n\"Very well,\" says the man in the chair. He turns to me and nods apologetically. \"You are free to go, Mr. Bensen. Agent Howard will walk you out.\" At a gesture, Agent Howard heads over to me and unlocks the handcuffs.\n\n\"Follow me, Mr. Bensen.\"\n\nIn a daze, I walk through the underground complex behind Agent Howard.\n\n\"I can have a car brought up front for you, if you have no way of getting back home,\" he says without looking back.\n\n\"No need,\" I lie. \"I've got someone picking me up.\"\n\nHe nods, and we reach the entrance within a few minutes of silence. I'm still not entirely sure this isn't a dream. I was caught. I was done for. I slipped up and...and now I'm walking out like I just dropped by to say hello.\n\nAgent Howard watches me as I cross the street. As I come to the corner. As I turn into an alleyway.\n\nI press myself against the wall as a compact convertible rolls by. And then I'm stuck, because it doesn't actually roll by - it stops right in front of me. Of course they wouldn't truly let's go, just like that... I tense, and ready myself to leap the-\n\n\"Hey, Ben, you look like you could use a ride.\"\n\nI start, and take a closer look at the smiling woman sitting in the front seat, right arm casually thrown over the passenger headrest.\n\nI don't recognize her.\n\n\"Come on, get in.\" She leans over and pops open the passenger door. \"We don't have a lot of time.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" If this is some sort of trap, it's not a very good one. It seems like she's on my side. Whatever side that is.\n\n\"I'll explain on the way. Where are your things?\"\n\n\"I left them back at my bolt hole,\" I say instinctively. Even if I had a bolt hole here, which I don't, I wouldn't have anything to leave there.\n\nShe shrugs and gestures for me to get in the car. \"I guess we can swing by to pick it all up.\"\n\nI hesitantly slide into the smooth leather seat. \"You got me out, didn't you. Why?\"\n\nShe throws me a dazzling smile, tinted with the barest hint of crazy. \"You're special, Ben.\"\n\nDoes she know everything I do? \"No, I'm not,\" I reply.\n\n\"You got me,\" she laughs, and we pull out of the alley. \"There are many like you - but no one else that is you. Tell me, Ben, when was the last time you failed a job?\"\n\n\"I never fail a job.\" Apart from those few times, but what she doesn't know might let let me kill her, if need be.\n\n\"Exactly,\" she replies. \"We have your files, going right back to your first job - not one mistake.\nNot one slip-up. Even in Turkey.\"\n\nWhoever she works for is either incompetent or invested in boosting my ego. \"Those aren't my real files,\" I bluff.\n\nShe laughs again. \"We know. But even in a haystack of made up facts there's a needle of truth. We picked out what we could about you.\"\n\nMade up facts? I have made up files?\n\n\"We need your help, Ben,\" she says, suddenly somber. Her lips are pressed in a tight line, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. \"Something terrible is going to happen unless you prevent it.\"\n\nThere is no way I'm getting dragged into whatever this is. \"Look, lady, you've got the wrong guy-\"\n\nA screeeech bleeds the quiet from the air as she slams on the breaks and turns to me. She squints. \"Wait a minute. You're not...Oh my god. This is impossible, you're...who are you?\"\n\nI'm beyond confused, but if there's a way to get out of here, I'm taking it. I quickly unbuckle and launch myself over the door, landing gracefully on the blacktop.\n\n\"Don't worry about it, lady. I'm no one.\"\n\n---\n\nCarol blinks and looks around. What was she doing here? Oh right, she was sent to pick up...something. Something important.\n\nBagels, maybe? Her boss does love bagels. But she's not familiar with this part of town. She can't remember ever coming here.\n\nWith a shake of her head, she cruises into the freeway and heads for the nearest bagel shop.\n\nCarol resolves to tell her boss that she resents being sent on such errands when she returns. Then she remembers the possibly apocalyptic event they are all trying to prevent, and feels ashamed. If bagels help stop the end of the world, she is happy to be the one who buys them.\n\nIf only they were able to find the one person who could truly help them. Perhaps he's a myth. Perhaps he doesn't actually exist. She shrugs to herself, and gives the convertible a bit more gas. Those bagels aren't going to buy themselves." ]	3
	[WP] People age until they reach 18 and then stop aging until they meet their soul mate so they can grow old together.	[ "I stopped aging at 18, like everyone did at some point--you don't usually meet your soulmate young, so everyone kind of jolts to a stop for a bit.\n\nI went to school, graduated, and worked my way through grad school in a corporate office surrounded by other young faces. Some had been alive 25, 30 years and they had spent all that time in a little cubicle, unable to move forward. I looked at them and saw the potentially infinite amount of wasted time, but... didn't leave either. I made bank, though. I went out to bars, saw movies and plays, even looked at \"older\" couples with disdain as my coworkers poked fun at them. Why would you grow old, when you could make money, and then make money off of your money, and live a life of luxury? And damn if I didn't believe it.\n\nAnd I traveled. Hell, I traveled; hit the ground running as soon as my flights landed. I would go to coffee shops and museums and look boldly into the eyes of women, feeling a faint thrill go up the back of my neck--what if they were The One? Only to be whisked away into a bustling crowd in the heart of Vienna, or disappear into a flock of pigeons? It was a gamble, for sure.\n\nA gamble that I lost.\n\nAging happens slowly. First, it's the laugh lines at the creases of your eyes, grinning at you in the mirror. Then you count the gray hairs. The lines around your mouth don't fade, no matter how much you rub at them with your thumb. It's hard to focus on things, and you trade squinting for glasses and contacts.\n\nSomehow, what was worse was the thought that I'd done this to her. Somewhere out there, she was growing old too. She too was lost. Was she in the slums of a merchant town in South Africa? Was she staring at the walls of her Bangkok apartment, living with a man who was not the one for her? Would she notice that he stayed young while she grew old? Or was she running the streets of London, clicking into her vast office, working long hours so she wouldn't have the energy to look at her reflection when she got home that night, knowing what she had lost?\n\nDid she care?\n\nWhen I finally realized that my number was up--when it finally hit me--I quit my job. No two week's notice. The youthful manager of my floor looked at me with pity, and gave me a severance package for the 40 years that I'd spent with the company, most of it when I was still young. My coworkers--a couple had begun to age over the years, and I hated the bands on their left ring fingers--stared at me blankly as I stripped my cubicle of my things, and then promptly threw them in the dumpster downstairs.\n\nEvery gadget and useless frivolity that I didn't need and couldn't carry on my back was packed to the curb, and I broke my lease. That weekend, I was on a plane to Switzerland. Even though I knew it was an exercise in futility, I had to at least try. \n\nFor her.", "15.02.2015\n\nDear Diary,\n\nAnother Valentine's Day has come and gone right by me. I used to mark each V-Day with lines, like prisoners, but when my last piece of chalk was used completely many years ago, I lost count.\n\nI thought I had gotten used to looking in the mirror every morning and seeing the same 18 year old face looking back. All my friends passed this mark decades ago, they got married, had babies, some even died since then. You see, this place where I was born is a special one - once you celebrate your 18th anniversary, time just kind of stops. You stay forever young, and the only way to continue your life is to meet your soulmate. Sounds simple, right? Well, easier said than done!\n\nEver since I can remember, this whole thing about finding my soulmate made me love the place where I'm from! Where else in this entire Universe do you have the certainty that there is a person made especially and exclusively for you? This thought engulfed me for a long time. In order to be ready for my 18th birthday, I started making tens and hundreds of friends since I was 16. I was the life of the party anywhere I went, and shifted through every possible social class hoping to find my soulmate as soon as I blew the 18 candles on my cake. But this moment came and went as well, and the candles have been blown out for so long that not even spiders lay webs on them anymore.\n\nAs I told you before, I have seen everyone around me age and go out, just like candles. For some time, I tried everything I could: putting ads in the newspaper, on the radio, going to events; my social life was dandy and explosive, but useless! Whenever I told someone about how I've been \"stuck\" for so long, all I got in return were looks of pity so eventually I just stopped telling people altogether. I forgot how long it's been, anyway.\n\nThen, for an even longer time, I tried talking to friends and specialized businesses - I asked anyone willing to listen to help me meet even more people. Actually, I also devised a type of rewards system to help me, but still no result.\n\nAt one point, the scales tipped from that desperation of searching for a partner to the resentment of never finding one. That's OK though, because it has been about 40-50 years since then (but hey, who keeps track?) so I've had enough time to get used to this idea. I will live alone. I want to be able to say I will die alone as well, but I am doomed to be immortal. Nothing is surprising to me anymore.\n\nThese days, I rarely meet new people. Maybe when I'm standing in line to pay for my groceries or whenever I'm volunteering at the local animal shelter. I figured out that all this time I have is wasted if I only spend it searching for my soulmate. Now I know I will never find it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n16.02.2015\n\nDear Diary,\n\nThis morning when I washed my face, I looked in the mirror. I have a gray strand of hair!", "The transport was crowded today. I stood lost in my thoughts, on the way to another mindless work day. Fifteen years, I had been eighteen. Or rather, my body was. My mind had known too much life to stay at that age. I had experienced many loves; many girls I would have been content to love and stay with forever. \n\n\nAnd some did find another to stay with; someone they could love and live with in eternal youth. Others spent years and years hopping from lover to lover with the explicit understanding that it could never be permanent. I'd never understood the draw. Love was love. Did you really need someone to be that elusive \"One\" to be happy? \nDays later in the same transport she caught my eye. Vibrant, beautiful. A quirky smile directed at strangers made my own mouth curve in response. Her gaze caught mine. And then she was gone-her stop. I played with the idea of talking to her the next time I saw her. After all, it wasn't that big of a city right? \nThree months llater there was still no sign of her. Worse yet, I had grown nearly an inch. I was growing-and aging. And somewhere in this world of ours, so was she. ", "33 years it's been, since they stopped my aging. I am still young, fit as a fiddle. I still skate, surf and paraglide like I am in my teens. I know this isn't permanent, that this can all be taken away by love. Love. There's is a death sentence in one lousy word. I've seen it's effect. Old Joe once used to just be Joe. And now, the man can't tolerate a nightout, can't sleep on a futon and absolutely can't skate. He is suicidal, but can't die. They won't allow it. He wants a change in his life, but they won't allow it. Bastards. All high and mighty, in their white suits and wings. \n\nThey say that they only seek to follow a supreme law. But what kind of law forces you to stay in the same, unhappy situation day after day? Yeah! he loved her! Once upon a time. When he was young and she was amazing. But people change, don't they? What about when people change so much, that they start to grate upon each other? When your soulmate is a fellow prisoner, shackled to you? Both of you inexorably being drawn to a slow and painful life, with death being the only way out. But even that is denied. For suicide is against the law, and they'll just bring you back with mild admonishments to not misuse this great gift from Above.\n\nI look into Old Joe's eyes, as he swigs from his beer. Even the way he drinks is angry. Angry at the world, angry at his wife. Even angry at me, still young and unattached. I know his hands are figuratively tied. \n\nSo I tie him up, for real this time. By the pier, where we used to go drinking. I give him a last beer and cigarette. I take my skateboard to his face. Again, and again. \n\nThe bastards appear then. Angry as fuck. No one has been a son of Cain in a very long time. I spit in their face, young, angry and stupid forever. \n\nYolo, motherfuckers. Do your worst." ]	4
Not superhero/villain, per se. How'd they get here? Why are they here? Where is here? Prompt idea curtesy of my best friend, Gabraham Lincoln.	[WP] The last hero, clothes torn and muddied, sits opposite the last villain, resplendent in his suit. The villain reaches into his jacket and withdraws two cigars. "It's been quite a run, hasnt it, old friend?"	[ "“The cycle must continue.” He said, sitting across the table. His clothes were pristine, the battle had hardly taken a toll on him and yet he had lost. He had all the stature of a King sitting high up on his throne and yet was doomed, and more importantly he knew it.\n\nJaren was sitting calmly on the opposite side staring at the man that had carved out the heart of his lover. The pale man was a stranger to him, and he had known him all his life. He had trained Jaren in the ways of politics, combat and chivalry. He had taught him to be noble, how to act proper in court and how to lead men in battle. Then he had betrayed everything he stood for. Baelor the Defiler, Baelor the Breaker, and Baelor the Deceiver; he had many names and none did him justice.\n\n“It’s over,”Jaren said, “you are broken, your cycle has ended.”\n\n“No my son, you are the next part of the cycle,” Baelor hummed,\n \n“From the ashes a hero will rise\n\nThrough blood, a debt shall be paid\n\nBeware the sun at night\n\nAt his feet a crown will be laid\n\nGreed grows easy with power\n\nSecrets are always known\n\nIn the eleventh hour\n\nLove will break the throne.”\n\nJaren slammed his fist on the table. The door swung open and a man plated in golden armor stepped into the room hand on the hilt of his blade. Baelor raised his chained hands in display. “All is well,” Jaren said “I will never become you.”\n", "She eyes him coldly. \n“I don’t smoke.” \nHe returns one cigar to his jacket pocket and smiles. \n“I don’t think it will have much bearing on your life expectancy.” \nShe doesn’t answer, and he seems unperturbed by her silence, instead lowering himself into the seat opposite. \n“Won’t you sit down?” He asks, unbuttoning his suit jacket, and gesturing to the pristine chair on the other side of the table. “I know you’ve had quite a trial to get here.” \nHer body aches all over and she longs to sit, but she hesitates, bizarrely not wanting to get mud all over the snow-white upholstery. \nSitting, she reminds herself that an expensive dry-cleaning bill is the least amount of punishment the man before her deserves. \nHe cuts the cigar with practiced precision and takes a deep draw before speaking. \n“I feel as though I should give you an explanation, since you’ve been so inconvenienced.” He says, eyeing her muddied and bloodied state. \n“But what you’ve gotten wrong, is that everyone is viewing this whole situation like it's a game of chess. As though we've each got to stay ten steps ahead to outmanoeuvre the other. But really it's not like that at all, you see. Money is what really talks in this town - we're playing Monopoly.” \nHe takes a drag from his cigar, and the end glows like a singular coal-red eye. \n“And I'm the bank.” \nHe takes an envelope from his inside pocket, the stationary heavy and expensive. \n“Do you know what this is?” \n“A scone recipe?” \nHe laughs. \n“It’s an offer.” He continues, “For you to work for me. With me. You’ve always been smart. So do the smart thing, old friend.” \nHe places the envelope on the table, slides it towards her. She stares but does not touch it. \nHe sighs again, smoke curling around his greying hair, frost-blue eyes looming from behind the haze. \n“You can stop playing the hero, you know. You can stop trying to save everyone.” He pauses, looks at her measuringly. “There’s no-one left to save anymore.” \nHis meaning clicks, and her heart stutters. \n“Jeremy?” she asks, and it feels as though her chest is being squeezed tight. \nThe man before her exhales another swirling screen. \n“He was holding you back.” \nHe was right then. There was nothing left to save. \nBecause of him. \nHer teeth clench, and her mission has just become infinitely easier. \nDo not pass go, \nHer hands shake. \nDo not collect two-hundred dollars... \nThe shots echo around the empty restaurant, and there’s one moment of betrayal in his eyes before he slumps in his chair like a puppet whose strings have been cut. \nShe makes her way around the table slowly. \n“You should be careful,” she says, plucking the still-glowing cigar from between his cooling lips. \n“Smoking like that will kill you.” \n", "It had been a long, exhausting war. 15 years ago, today, my friend Lucas and myself set out to make things right in the world for our people. Along the way, though, we began to see things differently. 10 years ago, we set our sights on each other. Now, as our friends and families lay around us, slaughtered and torn to bits, we see each other. We stop, midfield, and I see Lucas grab two cigars out of his battle jacket.\n\n\"It's been a long time, old friend.\" Lucas muttered out. I could tell he was dying, he was never any good at evading fire.\n\n\"Too long, Lucas. Too long.\" I knew nothing else to say to a dying man. \n\n\"I suppose, you can accept this as my surrender. You won.\"\n\nThose words, as innocent as they were, stung more than the pinch of a blade. Lucas had been my best friend for many years before this war broke out, and had stood by me through many hardships.\n\nI sat by his side and we reminisced about old flames and battles that we had fought together. Then, I noticed his chest stopped heaving and his eyes were no longer focused on anything. My best friend had gone.\n\nI rose to my knees and cried out to God. I didn't understand why he took Lucas and not me. I was the one on the wrong side. While Lucas fought for freedom for our people, I fought for the ruling of the King. I burned houses with families inside, I ordered the execution men by the hundreds. I was the evil one. I saw it all now. It flashed before me like I was living it all again. The screaming haunted me, the smell of burning, decaying flesh followed me. I knew there was no redemption for my sins. And I would have to live with that. I killed the greatest man I ever knew. And he was my best friend. \n", "\"That it has,\" said Henry. \"How far we've come.\"\n\n\"Indeed.\" Donald lit both cigars, handing one to his arch-nemesis. \"You know, I still can't believe it ended like this?.\"\n\n\"Well, I didn't see it coming. I can safely say that.\"\n\nDonald raised a small glass of whisky. \"Here's to you, Henry. The greatest hero and adversary, I have ever encountered.\"\n\nHenry smiled. \"So what's next?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I've seen warlords butcher young children, I've seen mothers raped and murdered in front of their families. I've seen more than most villains will have wanted to see. But I saw it.\"\n\n\"So, what? This was your way of making the world a better place?\"\n\n\"It's funny you should say that, considering all you sacrificed just to get to me. Your family, your job. Was it really worth it in the end?\"\n\nHenry took a large puff on the cigar and leaned back in his chair. \"It was. Now we're here.\"\n\n\"Yes, here.\" Donald spread his arms. \"At least I kept my suit intact. It's a shame about the exit wound,\" he laughed to himself, \"I wonder if I'll still have an open casket funeral?\"\n\n\"I doubt it. You have no one to attend it.\"\n\n\"Neither do you. In death, we're all united.\"\n\nHenry stared deeply into Donald's eyes. \"You know, I can never forgive you for killing my family.\"\n\n\"They were my family, too, Henry. I just hated them more.\"\n\nThey sat quietly for a moment. Henry smoking his cigar and Donald sipping a whisky. \"You going up, or down?\" asked Henry.\n\n\"Neither. I converted to Buddhism, I'm going back down to start again.\"\n\n\"Not worried you'll go back as a cockroach?\"\n\n\"Worried?\" Donald mocked. \"You know me, Henry. I always work my way to the top.\" Donald rose from his chair, placing a fedora on his head and wrapping a long coat around his shoulders. \"You coming?\"\n\n\"I think I'll stay. I've got people to see.\"\n\n\"Suit yourself. Don't say I never do anything for you.\"" ]	4
	[WP] A sentient sword sits in the middle of a frozen lake waiting for a hero to come take it and fulfill its destiny to vanquish evil from the land. The Hero never comes as he/she/it was able to overcome the ultimate evil without the legendary sword. What does the sword do?	[ "The sword cannot talk because it is a sword and has no mouth. But, through the workings of ancient and powerful magics, it can feel. Right now it is feeling particularly lonely. \n\nFive years ago the whispers of dark tidings fluttered through the surrounding forest. Two years ago a hero rose to fight this darkness. Today, he won. \n\nThe sword would have been very happy for the hero if he had bothered to find and use it on this mission. Technically, it was it's destiny and soul purpose in life to aid him on his quest. It was what it had been created for. Yet the hero never came. He hadn't needed the sword.\n\nSo, what did that mean for the sword now that it had no purpose? The sword pondered this as the seasons changed and the years passed by, until one day the wind shook the trees in excitement. Tiny footsteps pounded against the dirt, breaking twigs and crunching leaves.\n\nThe sword, for the first time, was happy as a round face floated above the edge of the water, staring curiously down at the sunken blade. She was a child not yet pass her thirteenth year; her smile could disarm even the most cold of men. The sword was not created for her to wield, but it would protect her with every ounce of magic it had.\n\nUnfortunately, she was too weak to lift out the destined sword and she left the lake wet and crying, never to be seen again. \n\nThe sword was lonely once more. ", "_In a world of pure unblemished white, sits The Sword That Waits. In the centre of a frozen lake which reflects neither sun or sky. It waits. It waits for the day a Hero worthy of it shall appear to draw it from the lake and use it to slay all evil. So it has ever been, and so, say the legends, so it will ever be..._\n\nThe was a white, white world. Pure and unblemished as new fallen snow. The lake remained as ever it had, neither sun nor rain nor blood marring its pristine surface. It was a world unto itself, cold, beautiful, and unspeakably lonely. It was at the centre of this desolate world that the lone sword reigned. Majestic and proud, it was somehow even more serene than the lake; with no ornamentation of its own. It didn't need any. No precious jewels adorned its hilt or blade, yet even so the blade seemed to project an aura of otherworldly beauty. When the light of the sun caught on the blade, it seemed somehow brighter and sharper than elsewhere. It had always been thus, ever since that day the man with the sad, too-old eyes had brought the sword here and sheathed it in the cold ice of the lake. \n\nThe sword could not remember its own creation. For nothing, not even steel that could cut the very world, was strong enough to retain memory of its birth. All it remembered was – heat, a faint rhythmic pounding of hammer on steel, continuing tirelessly, endlessly. It grew stronger and more distinct, and soon the-sword-that-was-not-yet-a-sword realised that the sound was its own heartbeat. “That's right,” a voice like the rustle of leaves on an ancient oak had said, “you will be a sword like no other. And one day, you will meet one worthy of you, and you'll change the world...” \n\nThe sword believed those words even now.\n\nIt had waited ages for the arrival of the promised one. Men and women of every conceivable size, shape, and walks of life had come to try and wrest the sword from the lake and claim the legend for themselves. And all had been found wanting. And so the sword waited. \n\nSeasons passed, the world continued to turn and change as is its way. All but for that white world that existed within it, it went untouched by time and entropy, unsullied by human hands. And still the sword waited. \n\nEventually, he was born. The sword felt it from the moment the child opened its eyes to the world and took its first breath, and from that first breath, the child's heart beat in time with the swords own. \n\nAt long last, one worthy of the sword's power, the one who would draw it from its lake and finally help it to fulfil its purpose. But not yet. The infant was young and weak. Ignorant of the fate that awaited it. But one day he would come. And so, the sword waited.\n\nThe child grew and became strong. He ventured out into the world and met his destiny. He fought evil and protected the weak. But something went wrong. The Hero never found the lake were sat the noble, patient sword. He never entered that world of white and drew forth his destined weapon. He lived, he fought, he triumphed, and he died content with his life and all his works. The moment he breathed his last, something happened at the lake. The sword, which had remained pure and perfect since time immemorial, cracked like a faded mirror, just slightly, where hilt met blade.\n\nEven the patience of steel must eventually run dry when its hearts has already passed on from the world. And gradually one crack became two. And then three. Slowly that lonesome white world, began to give way to grey. The frozen surface of the lake clouded, and the light no longer deigned to shine on the sword which remained faithfully at the centre of the lake. All who saw the lonely blade felt a strange sense of loss, seeing the nobility that remained of The Sword That Waits, even now, as its blade chipped and it lustre faded under the weight of ages. They wept, and mourned, without ever quite knowing why.\n\nAnd so, as time moved callously forward and the world changed without it, the sword waited for a Hero that would never come, to fulfil a purpose that had been achieved without it. For what else could it do? \n\nThe Sword that Waits; waited...\n\n\n", "Perry walked by the lake for the 15th time this week. \n\n\"Still there...\" The sword had been in the ice since the beginning of winter. Every day as Perry walked by he could hear it. \n\n\"Are you mighty enough to-\" yadda yadda yadda. \"only my steel can pierce-\" blah blah etc. for something without human anatomy, it was pretty far up its own ass. A talking sword was cool and all, but who would want one when he's so pretentious? The winter was long and arduous, and Perry's family did all it could just to feed themselves, but the snow was beginning to melt, and the larks were returning. Spring was upon them, and it was good, for his family at least. \n\nThe slow change in the weather was melting the lake as well an Perry couldn't think about anything but what would happen to the sword? The ice he once thought was an enchantment was waning, would a little bit remain? would the sword sink to the bottom of the lake? Could a talking sword drown?\n\nThese questions and many more kept Perry busy most of his work day, but today was a bit different. The mystical blade wasn't spouting his usual bluster. every few minutes he'd just make a concerned \"hmm\" sound. Finally he had to break the silence.\n\n\"Are you going to be ok Sword?\"\n\n\"What's this? A lowly knave addresses me? Come boy test your strength prove to-\"\n\n\"Yea you seem fine\" Perry started on the long walk back home. he slung his satchel over his shoulder. Full of berries he picked on the way down, his family would have their first dessert in months. \n\n\"Wait! Wait! I'm sorry I called you a knave. I just- I was supposed to be a legendary sword fit for a hero to slaughter evil and bring the darkness to heel, but I haven't seen any hero. The only person who walks by this God forsaken lake is you. I don't know if its just a bad location, but the foot traffic in this town is atrocious.\"\n\n\"What so all that blathering was to impress me?\"\n\n\"A little, Where you in awe at my splendor?\"\n\n\"Not particularly. You come on a bit strong. Besides, I don't know if you heard, but the evil was vanquished a month or 2 ago.\"\n\n\"Vanquished? but only my blade is sharp enough to pierce-\"\n\n\"There's this fancy invention called armor piercing ammunition, does a pretty good job against dark lords if the daily news can be believed.\" That was the other thing he thought was weird. Guns had been around a long time. Who in their right mind would take a sword into the the dark lords base? It all just seemed a bit comical.\n\n\"I told the smith when he was forging me this was a bad idea, but did he listen? No! Stupid nerds and their stupid superstitions. Look kid, I may not be the ultimate weapon for demon killing, but I've got a pretty sharp blade! a little reforging you can make me an ax. I'll never go dull, you'd be the most magnificent lumberjack this side of... whatever the nearest river is. Just come get me out before I sink.\"\n\n\"I was thinking about that. Can you drown?\"\n\n\"I'd rather not wait to find out.\"\n\nPerry set down his bag and slowly waded out onto the ice. Slowly, carefully he walked to where the blade was stuck. The ice groaned and creaked under his feet, but it held. He reached the sword, grabbed the hilt and pulled with all his might! \n\nThe ice began to crack around the blade. The cracks widened as he pulled, the ground groaned until finally the blade broke free. Perry too the sword and ran back to shore for dear life. \n\n\"What do I call you by the way?\"\n\n\"The Smith named me Calbrigor.\"\n\n\"Alright Cal, Let get you ready to chop some wood.\"\n\n\nA few years went by and everyone heard the tales of Perry: The Whistling Woodsman and his trusty ax Cal: The Singing Sword(That name confused a good number of people). When he was old and grey Perry returned to the spot that started it all.\n\n\"We've come a long way buddy.\"\n\n\"That we ha-\" before he could finish he slipped and hit his head. Perry went peacefully, clutching the hilt of his best friend. A smile on his face. Cal's head just barely in the water. Oddly enough, turns out an talking ax can drown.", "\"H-hello?\" The sword whispered. \"Is anyone there?\"\n\nThe evening breeze began to blow, as it always did and it always would. The wind's gentleness touched the honed-steel blade, its gleaming edge still as sharp as the day it was forged in the fires of a forgotten palace, by a forgotten people, beneath a forgotten sun.\n\nThe sword was waiting, waiting for the footsteps that would mean it had a - a purpose. A mission. A reason to wait on. Not that it could do anything else, of course.\n\nIt measured time in the rising and setting of the sun, in the spring thaw and the winter freeze - it measured time in the movement of the fish below. In truth, it had no measure of time, because to keep time requires distinguishing the past from the present, and every day was the same. Besides, the sword had lost its mind generations and generations ago.\n\n\"Is anyone out there?\" The whisper was softer this time, stretched long and thin by the Northern billows. The sun would rise soon. The sword would enjoy the rays for a few hours - and then would come the dark once more. The endless winter. The long night.\n\nIt was no good to dwell on such things - either the Hero would come, or the Hero would not. A spark of hope lit in the swords pommel as he saw movement by the pines - but it was just a family of deer, foraging in the frozen brush.\n\nThe sword let out a sigh as the world turned velvet-black. The stars began to gleam, and shine, and throw their light onto the snow. Maybe the Hero was here, just lost. Maybe if the sword could just - could just shout a little louder -\n\n\"Hello?\" The sword whispered in the frosted midnight air. \"Is there anybody out there?\"\n" ]	4
	[WP] The devil finds out the true meaning of "hell hath no fury like a woman scorned"	[ "I smiled a grin that was sweet like sugar; beaming from ear to ear,\n\nAnd she stared at me with less than subtle distrust wondering why I was here,\n\n\"ᎽᎾu ᏦᏁᎾᎳ ᎳhᎪᏆ ᎽᎾu ᎳᎪᏁᏆ ᎪᏁᎠ ᎥᏆs ᎬᎪsᎽ ᏆᎾ ᎶᎪᎥᏁ\" I explained to her simply enough,\n\n\"ᏆhᎬ ᏢᏒᎥᏃᎬ Ꭵs sᎾ fᎪᏁᏆᎪsᏆᎥᏟ ᏆᎾ ᎽᎾu ᎪᏁᎠ ᏆhᎬ ᎽᎾu ᏦᏁᎾᎳ ᏆhᎪᏆ ᏆhᎬ ᏟᎾsᏆ ᎥsᏁ'Ꮖ ᏆhᎪᏆ ᏆᎾuᎶh\"\n\n\"Why should I trust the devil?\" she asked mistrust peppering her voice with ice,\n\n\"bᎬᏟᎪusᎬ Ꭵ'm ᎾᏁᎬ Ꮎf ᏆhᎬ fᎪᏟᏆs Ꮎf ᏆhᎬ ᎳᎾᏒᏞᎠ\" I explained \"Ꭵ ᎪᏞᎳᎪᎽs ᎠᎬᏞᎥᏉᎬᏒ fᎾᏒ mᎽ ᏢᏒᎥᏟᎬ\"\n\n\"You can really make me the CEO of reddit?\" she asked \"and I can be rich and powerful too?\"\n\nI nodded my consent at her terms \"ᎪᏞᏞ ᎽᎾu hᎪᏉᎬ ᏆᎾ sᎬᏞᏞ Ꭵs ᎽᎾuᏒ sᎾuᏞ, buᏆ ᎳhᎪᏆ's ᏆhᎪᏆ ᎳᎾᏒᏆh ᏆᎾ ᎽᎾu?\"\n\nShe affirmed her agreement of the deal and reached out her slender hand to shake,\n\nAnd in the background I saw her husband watching, his debt had forced her mistake,\n\nI settled back and watched with interest her next actions made without a soul,\n\nClaims of discrimination and abuse in an attempt to make it to her goal,\n\nI fast-forwarded to the end of her now to see how it had all turned out,\n\nAnd bumped into the angel Gabriel there with news of an apparent rule flout,\n\n\"ωє'νє яєςєινє∂ α ςσмρℓαιnt fяσм α ωσмαn ωнσ'ѕ ραѕѕє∂ σνєя уσυ ѕєє\"\n\n\"ѕнє'ѕ ςℓαιмιиg thαt ωнєn уσυ tαяgєtє∂ нєя fσя tнє ∂єαℓ ιt ωαѕ nσt мα∂є gєи∂єя-fяєє\".", "I am merely an agent of the creators will. I once tried for my own destiny, and was thus sentenced to forever punish those he deemed... like myself. I know his wrath, I am his wrath. I vowed to keep sinners in hell to keep his heaven pure. I have only once gone against him.\n\nShe came to me, burned to bone, like the rest of them. Having been drawn through fields of stone and fire by beasts she could not see or comprehend. Unlike the others, however, she was not screaming. I noticed, and my demons dragged her lower.\n\nAs is my duty, she was torn apart by hungry men. Time and time again. Upon her was inflicted the pain that all murderers know and she did not flinch. My interest piqued, I had her brought lower.\n\nMy lieutenant forced coal into her lungs and set it alight on every breath. But the woman she was, she never wanted for air. So I brought her to me.\n\nI knew when I saw her, when I saw her soul, that no torture I possessed could break her. She had known hell. She had been married to it, she saw it beat her children. Eventually it killed her. And thanks to the creators very specific rules on marriage, it had sent her here, because she tried to run. She hated that man, and nothing I could do could make her sorry for the fury she felt. \n\nI only once broke my vow. I sent her back. I will know our creators wrath for my transgression. But I will take solace in the knowledge that her husband will be seeing his beloved wife again.\n" ]	2
For example, you don't sleep like normals sleep. You do sleep but there's a catch. Every two days you fall into a death sleep, and it's not a normal falling asleep, it's a narcoleptic fall where you are sleep. It lasts two days ( 48 hrs ). If nsfw, please mark as such.	[WP] The bad things about being immortal.	[ "Immortality is a bad thing.\n\nThat's what the normal man would think.\n\nHonestly, it's only a tad more upsetting than \"slightly, sorta aggravating.\"\n\nOh sure, the world'll end eventually and I'll be toiling around in the middle of the big black depths of the goddamn fabric of space. No one else'll be alive, leaving me all alone in some desolate vortex of boredom, swimming about like an old bass in a grime-filled puddle.\n\nFucking bullshit. Screw those guys. I'd much rather be dead.\n\nGives me more time to think, drifting in the middle of space for years upon years. Then again....\n\nIt's several million more years until this damn world blows the hell up, along with over other ass on it...\n\nMaybe it's a billion?\n\nWay too long. I'd rather kill myself than have to deal with that....\n\nCould I kill people to pass the time? That might work. \n\nDon't even need to do any planning or nothing, just grab a knife and go all serial-killer on them. Starting with that stupid wizard-doctor that got me into this mess, of course. Can't even fake carriage injuries for some coin anymore...\n\n... Damn, everything I do just sounds boring even when I think. No risk in anything anymore.\n\nWhen will this day be over? I'm thinking way too much about this and the fields are only half-plowed.\n\n\"Hey, Farmboy! You done sowing the damn berries yet?!\" calls the crazy wizard-doctor that's been making my immortality a living hell.\n\n\"Why don't you get your ass out here and help me you old fart?!\" \n\n\"Come over here and make me, you failed test sample!\"\n\nI start at him, throwing down my shovel. Wait, why can't I run? Why is the ground not bending to my will?\n\nShit, right. The chains.\n\nAt least doc's smart enough to tie up the undead... Is that the term for it?\n\nWhat even is the difference between undead, immortal, and omniscient anyway? \n\nI mean, an undead's technically an immortal by being brought back to life. Omniscient is just a fancy word for \"having great power.\"\n\nMaybe, maybe I should try to choke myself on these chains.... Perhaps I am undead and I don't even know it!\n\nBeing dead for ten, maybe twenty minutes is better than working out here all day.\n\nAlright, he goes....\n\nBLAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!\n\n... Is it working?\n\nShit, I can still think.\n\nOh well, back to the crops. Wonder if dinner's gonna be potatoes and chickens again. Witch-doc's wife's pretty good at cooking at least. \n\nGoddamn, immortality's boring.", "My hair turned grey but I did not age. I have sat here on this planet for more seasons than people whom I love have lived. And those people..Those wide eyed children to me will always return to the earth. Like flowers. Beautiful and blossoming to the point I can't take my old eyes off of them..and by the time I grow in love with such a graceful existence it wilts and fades only leaving behind seeds of another flower to blossom just as wonderfully.\n\nBut my heart aches every time I see these young ones weep for the loss. The few whom I have opened my heart to eventually look at me with envy and hate..That I will go on while they too wilt and perish. Even those whom, if I could, give my perpetuum to I must suffer their pained stares of leaving me behind and feel my heart grow yet another cold dead spot within that aches every time I glance upon the children of them.\n\nI have children. They did not get my gift and in spite spurned my affections blaming me and my beloved for it. But I didn't care. To my best recollection she was the only one to look at me in the end with both pity..and love. But the children carried on their grudge hoping one of their offspring would bare the same gift. Eventually they too forgot about me and the origin of their family. A painful blessing. What grandfather wouldn't want to see his grandchildren? But I don't believe I can allow this ancient heart of mine to to grow more cold inside. For I may be immortal but I am not immune to pain of the soul and the ravages of time upon those dear to me.", "When I first cracked the code, I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me. My cells no longer aged, they regenerated constantly. I burned the documents leading to my own immortality, knowing how something like this could divide our species. I, and only I, would live forever. \n\nForever.\n\nThe first part of \"Forever\" was great. I watched the world move on in technology. I watched my children grow, as I went from playing catch with them in the backyard to standing at their graduations. At the slightest mention of immortality research, I would step in to ensure it would not be uncovered. Eventually, they gave up.\n\nBut then my wife died. I attended her funeral, and wept with all of her friends. I felt such loss at that time. She was the only one who knew.\n\nAnd then, eventually, my children died. I attended their funerals as well.\n\nAnd then my grandchildren died.\n\nI didn't bother going to the funerals after the fifth generation. \n\nConnections become meaningless. Applying for anything, like a job or a passport, leads to some tricky questions. I tried making more romantic relationships, but the immortality procedure has rendered me sterile. Anyone I know will eventually die. \n\nWithout the human element, time blurs. I watched our first mars colony. I was at the send-off of the first generation ship. I saw the rise and fall of many nations and countries after the Red War, and I have walked the wastelands of Mars.\n\nI can't reveal my immortality, because they either wouldn't believe me, or try to replicate the results. I'm a face in the crowd to most people. I wander, constantly, from town to town, from city to city. And eventually, from planet to planet.\n\nBut the worst part is my limitations. There's a reason people are only supposed to live about one hundred years.\n\nMy memory is going. I can't remember where I used to live. Or the names of my children, and my first wife. I don't even know how old I am. No matter what I do, my earliest memories are slowly disappearing. I only have so much space. And it's disappearing, being written over by the endless march of time.\n\nEven now, as I think as hard as I can, I can't recall my own name.", "You ever wondered what it's like to be immortal? Never dying. Just...living. Surviving you might say. It wasn't really enjoyable, being unkillable. Ever had a bad cold? But it went away? Imagine for example you couldn't die but because the first time you came back you left your systems behind you now didn't have an immune system? Or a digestive system but we'll get to that. I didn't know that I was the walking equivalent of a petri dish until I caught a cold that lasted a little too long. Really though, I fear for the tissue industry if my cold ever goes away - I think I'm their biggest supplier. Every day a runny nose. That's aggravating as anything.\n\nSecond was that I didn't have a digestive system I could eat, and it would go down but sort of.. stay there. It wouldn't \"pass\" at all. I think I still have a few hotdogs laying around down there despite making myself vomit to get any remnants out. I don't want any creatures making a nest inside my damp, warm and food abundant stomach no thank you. It felt weird having sausages jangling around in there like the keys on a wardens belt but I got used to it.\n\nBut the biggest problem is that despite immortality I still age. Still am going to \"die\" of natural causes one day. If I die, then I'll be a dead man walking again except a little more zombie like. Do chicks like bald scalps with dirt in? I don't think so. Both of them were equally horrifying. Either I age and die or I age and die, then repeat ad infinitum. I know bodies compose after a while. I don't want to be dust, dust is boring. I'd float around like well.. dust on the wind. Getting in people's eyes, laptop cases, anywhere. I hate dust. I even have a mild dust allergy! Allergies suck though, I tend to avoid them. I remember walking into a hospice one day, filthy place, which was oozing with germs. I came out disgusted, searching for the nearest shower.\n\nThey say that \"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger\" and I'd disagree with that. I'd change it to \"Whatever doesn't kill you makes you weaker, and you'll probably die but if you're reading this then you'll probably make it.\". Had to have a bit of false hope there somewhere, right?", "Ronald’s jacket seemed oddly heavy. I guessed a flask of liquor caused the weight but I knew it felt too heavy to be a flask. I placed the jacket on the floor and Ronald turned in his desk towards me sitting behind him in the desk his jacket previously occupied. \n\n“You know why my jacket is heavy?” Ronald inquired without emotion.\n\nI stared at the fuzzy sideburns flaring out of the sides of his head for a moment before I came to a startling realization. My brother owned a hand gun and I had held and it weighed about as much the unexpected weight Ronald’s jacket held. His irritated eyes began to confirm my intuition with intensifying disdain. “Is there some metal in there?”\n\n“Umhm.”\n\nRonald turned back to the front of the class. After a minute to gather my thoughts, I felt strange that this was not more alarming to me. After an hour, I felt a deep guilt that I made no attempt to ensure the school’s safety. After two hours, Ronald compromised the school’s safety and I felt more than guilt. I felt completely dissociated from real life. I entered a state of something like an inescapable nightmare. \n\nThat day led me to realize that I am immortal, and I am yet to be proved otherwise. Until the day I die, I will continue to believe I am immortal. I spent two weeks in isolation before I came to my realization. Leaving my home meant risking my life. Now I do not fear crossing the street or driving. Now I do not fear guns or shooting them. \n\nI joined a gang a month after the shooting and I became a murder and a thief. I was locked up after my second week belonging to the gang. In prison I spent a very long time thinking about my life and I wished I was not immortal. I wished someone would prove me wrong. At one point, I nearly tried to prove myself wrong. I picked a number of fights in the lunch room and in the courtyard and I lost all of them. \n\nI sleep and wake and move through time with the infinite persistence that the sun rises every morning with and sets every evening with. However, the certainty of my immortality does not comfort me like the certainty that the sun will rise in the morning. My certainty of my own immortality frightens me. \n", "I was 33 when I realized I was immortal. \n\nIt was an average day. I awoke for my average job. I left my average looking girlfriend lying in bed asleep. I ate my usual bowl of generic brand cornflakes, watched the news and found my eyes glazing over as I spaced out, staring at the ticker of headlines at the bottom of the television screen. Thirty dead in apparent suicide bombing in the Middle East. China in intense trade talks with Japan and the U.S. for control of the Pacific. The European Union in a steady free fall after the collapse of the Euro, countries bailing out of the pact each and every day. The news ticker itself eventually came out of focus, and I instead was staring at the reflection coming off the television. Just a reflection of myself, a blonde hair, blue eyed average kid who hadn’t changed much since leaving college and moving to the city, finding a career and who now sat in a small apartment with a girlfriend. It was at that moment, that exact moment, that I realized I hadn’t changed at all.\n\nI took a deeper look at myself, thinking it was a silly thought. Of course I’ve changed! But as I stared harder and harder at that reflection, I started thinking of a time when I hadn’t looked how I looked. Sure, some people lose or gain weight, get fuller in the face or lose some of that baby fat that clung to your body for a couple decades. I however, had not changed weight since college, my girlfriend always unhappy when I pointed that fact out. It was like my body just stopped aging the day I left school. That somehow a flip was switched.\n\nI found myself staring into mirrors more and more, desperately hoping for a sign, some sort of signal that I was growing older, but none came. I left my girlfriend soon after, growing paranoid at the fact that I wasn’t getting older. And it’s not something that can be definitively answered quickly. It took years. I left my job, home, wanting to lose contact with everything. I moved out west and became a nomad. Taking low-level jobs, then moving a year or two later. All the while that boyish face stared back at me. Just a recent grad, I would say to new friends. I made a lot of new friends, throughout my travels. I never kept any old ones. I thought I was a freak. More than anything, I didn’t want to be locked up by the government, or put on display like a zoo animal. I just wanted to be normal. To fit in.\n\nOh I tried ending it a few times, that’s for damn sure. Gave a helicopter pilot quite a fright as I hopped out of his aircraft from 10,000 feet up. My body just sorta accepted the impact into concrete and moved on. I couldn’t break bones, cut myself. I tried feeding myself to a lion one time, during an Africa safari. I eventually gave up and just accepted what I was. That’s when time started to move faster.\n\nYou know how fast summers go as you got older? When you’re five years old, one summer is 1/20th of your life. By the time you’re 20 it goes by four times as fast because it’s now 1/80th of your existence. Try experiencing a summer when you’re 150. Or notice a new year when you’ve surpassed 300 already. I saw World War 3 and 4. I watched Arks leave Earth to seek out new planets to colonize beyond our galaxy. I saw governments rise and fall and rise again. Countries devoured one another until finally one government remained. Finally that government fled earth too as the planet’s time was dwindling. A massive exodus took place as humans fled to the stars, to the other colonies and to a new life. All of them left. All but one.\n\nNow I sit, staring out at the sky, as Earth’s time comes to a close. The black hole it’s being sucked into drawing ever closer. Gravity has changed as well over time, pushing my body towards the ground and heaving a massive weight onto me. Too much weight to do anything but accept it. So here I sit, my back against a nice looking boulder. I’ve endured a number of extinction level events since humans have left, but this black hole seems more final. More effective, if that makes sense. \n\nHow old am I? 1 million years? 1 trillion? I don’t know. Time speeds past me like a bullet train, too fast for me to capture an essence of it. Too fast for me to ground myself in reality for just a moment. I breathed a final breath as I let myself drift off. I had seen it all. Yet I still longed for that average job, that average girlfriend. That average life.\n" ]	6
I just had a dream where this happened. I'm kind of curious as to what humanity would be like if this was real.	[WP] Whenever a human being kills another human, the killers unkowningly gain a random developed skill from the persons that died by their hand.	[ "\"Fucking cooking\" I spat. Kyle sat in the corner, smiling, covered in blood from the group we just captured and took turns killing. \n\"Don't be so down. These guys weren't going to be specialized in anything crazy. They were just caravan runners.\"\n\"Coming from the motherfucker that chose the cowardly mercenary and ended up getting god tier rifle skills. I mean, come on! He couldn't even protect his caravan against 2 people!\"\n\"You know as well as I do that's unfair.\" Kyle said with a smirk. I looked over at the bloody tree branch he restrained himself to using during the raid. Kyle loved a challenge, and that had been hard to get since he killed a sword master while he was sleeping. I just went about things practically. I learned explosives pretty early on from an ex military guy who turned out to be EOD. In fact he was my first kill, but it almost went the other way around. He was what I am now, a Skill Hunter. Only dumb luck and a sharp stick saved me that day. \nI looked away with a sigh, and counted off our spoils. Merchant who was amazing at math, two apprentices, one of which Kyle got seduction from (guess the kid got around), and the other had fucking swimming. Guess who got that one. Kyle's mercenary, and one other guy who just traveling with them at the time who had my cooking. I shook my head. Why did I always get shit on? \nSuddenly I felt a pain sprout from my chest. I looked down to see the blade Kyle looted off the swordsman, so many years ago. I couldn't breathe, and I felt the heat of blood spurt out from my mouth in surprise.\n\"Tsk tsk John. Why are you so shocked? You know the rule of the wasteland as well as I do. Trust no one, not even your closest friend.\"\nThe sword was ripped out from my back, and I dropped to my knees. I tried to turn my head, but my vision was swimming, and suddenly the dirt floor of our hut met my ear. In my last few moments of dream-like life, I heard Kyle mutter in surprise. Smiling, I felt my heart stop and my heart-rate monitor in my spine vibrate, and my last sight was pure white as the hut was consumed in a fiery ball.", "\"Wow, that's amazing!\" someone yelled. \n\nBenjamin was doing a handstand on his swivel chair at the office, spinning like a top. \n\n\"I know, right?\" he managed to say. Being upside down for so long had sent all his blood rushing to his head, and he was out of breath from the demonstration.\n\nBenjamin kicked his feet into the air and completed a backflip before landing neatly on his feet. His coworkers applauded around him in a ring. \n\nEven Maria had paused to watch. \n\nDid she smile?\n\nSomeone slapped him in the back, jolting his sight of lovely Maria as she went about her business on the other side of the room.\n\n\"Buddy, that was incredible! I never knew you could do anything like that,\" Kevin was smiling broadly as he spoke, \"I mean, you don't look like the acrobatic type, no offence. That seems like something Schultz would be good at. Where the heck did you learn how to do that?\"\n\nBenjamin's own smile slipped away for a moment.\n\nI killed someone…\n\nA few had noticed that their very own Hunter Schultz was absent today, but no one except for Benjamin knew how long he would be away from the office. \n\n\"Oh, you know,\" Benjamin smirked, \"just a hobby.\"\n\nCoffee break was over, and the crowd was dispersing. Kevin was just about to say something when his phone rang.\n\n\"Hello, this is Kev - Mama!\" he exclaimed into the phone, forgetting his business tone. \"Como estas?\"\n\nBenjamin awkwardly stood for a minute or two waiting for his colleague to wrap it up. He couldn't understand a word that they were saying, so he zoned out and let his eyes wander around the office. \n\nA woman bumped into him. She dropped a clipboard and some computer cables. Benjamin bent to pick them up, about to say how people should watch where they're going when he looked up and saw Maria. \n\nThe breath left his lungs as he looked into her eyes. It was the closest he had ever been to her, and she was beautiful. \n\n\"Hell - hello uh, Maria.\" Benjamin said, trying his best to at least seem like a gentleman, \"Sorry about that, I wasn't looking. Say, have you had lunch yet?\" \n\nMaria just smiled apologetically and walked away with her clipboard and cables.\n\nKevin finished his phone call, so Benjamin turned to him and said \"What the hell's her problem?\"\n\n\"Well, not only is she with IT, but she doesn't speak a lot of English. She probably just didn't understand you.\"\n\n\"Damn, well if only I spoke - \" \n\nWait a minute…\n\nBenjamin looked at his friend.\n\n\"Kevin, what's your last name? We've been friends for months, and I never got around to asking.\"\n\n\"Lopez, bro. How could you not know that?\" \n\n\"And that was Spanish you were speaking, right?\"\n\n\"Obviously.\"\n\nExcellent. With his language skills, there will be nothing between Maria and me.\n\n\"What are you doing tonight, Kevin? I've got an extra ticket to the game tonight, and a bit too much steak and beef at home. Why don't you help me - \"\n\nSomething poked Benjamin in the stomach. He laughed, and was about to ask why Kevin was poking him when he looked down and saw the scissor handles sticking out from his stomach. \n\n\"No…\" Benjamin gasped.\n\n\"Yes,\" Kevin said. \"There can only be one chair spinning champion, and that's me. I was going to kill Hunter Schultz myself, but you saved me the trouble. I owe you, Benny.\"\n\n\"You won't get away with this, Kevin.\"\n\n\"Sure I will,\" Kevin looked down at the scissors, \"HR reports dozens of office supply injuries a month. This won't be too suspicious. I'll just say you were running with them.\"\n\nClever bastard.\n\nBenjamin died, with one last word from his lips: \n\n\"Maria!\" \n\n", "In the darkness, I heard a scream. A she, possibly taken from behind; given the sound of her breath and pitch, a sharp object. This was no mere kill. Her killer was thoroughly enjoying it. \n\nThere was a snap not far away from where I sat, still and silent in my hiding spot. The breathing; male, somewhere in his thirties, and judging by the odor, a smoker. He was not trying to conceal himself. \n\nIt dawned on me that he knew exactly where I was, even though I had carefully crafted a labyrinth with the furniture and utensils to make the kitchen appear abandoned. Worse of all, he could see in the dark. Who the hell let this guy get that one?\n\nI stood up and heard him jump. He was fast, the motherfucker. If it hadn't been for Kim's lightning reflexes, I wouldn't have avoided the thrust in time. I heard a loud bang as metal, likely a rod, slam through the roof of my previous spot under the dining table.\n\nA soft whiz was all I heard before I felt a warm wetness on my neck. I drew backwards, lifting my jacket to wipe what I had just realized to be my first open wound on my left cheek. God, that was no rod but a katana. Now who let him have THAT?!\n\nHe seemed to know his way around; closing in on me and I secretly cursed the one who had night vision most. Then again, as much as he could see where he was headed, he had no idea what I had in store for him.\n\nI stepped on the curved ladle just beside the box of masking tapes and fell. It was a clear opening and I made no attempt to stifle my surprised reaction. \n\nThat was the easy part. Given the sound of the brick toys he had swept aside earlier, he would have had to be a full meter away from me to have had knicked me in the face. I had about a fraction of a second to do the maths and... yeah, another half of that fraction to turn my head to the side; narrowly avoiding this assailant's blade.\n\nI might've imagined things, but I was sure I heard the bristle of his eyebrows as he wondered how I knew just the right moment to dodge his blow or perhaps it was the shock of having his crown cleanly sliced off. All it took was some metallic thread I'd dipped in liquid glass hours before and placed strategically in the corner between the fridge and the knife cabinet.\n\nNot the most sanitary of kills, but it was either him or me. I'm just glad I met those game developers a couple of weeks ago when things had all just started to go to hell.\n\nYou see, it wasn't that long ago when life was normal and people did people things for what would be the rest of their lives. Then exactly one month ago, I discovered this curse, or gift, depending which way you wanted to see it when I'd accidentally drunk driven into a bus and sent an entire coalition of tourists down a ravine. Now, I was the class introvert; a real piece of work. You couldn't get me to walk in public if I wasn't being dragged by the ears; but there I was, or should've been, fresh drunk from a binge after Jack officially broke up with me in the middle of an assembly.\n\nYeah, I should've been sent to the can; 32 people were on that bus. A maritime biologist and her sailor boyfriend, two gymnasts, one taekwondo expert, an accountant and his family... I could go on forever; thanks to the accountant's visual memory, but the point was; I realized I'd changed at that very moment.\n\nI felt clearer, stronger, faster and a host of other things. I suddenly had the gift of gab, and that was exactly how I talked my way out when the cops came. Hell, I even knew what he was going to say because I'd somehow become so familiar with the constitution and my rights. I could tell from his heavy breathing and the look in his eye what he was thinking; and when the explosion came and sent a long piece of debris in his left eye; I realized I knew how to fire a gun, and why I would need it at that very instance.\n\nThe cops chased me for hours before I got away. Someone on the bus must've been really familiar with the town's shortcuts because I'd never even known some of the routes to exist; or even driven a car since I couldn't have been bothered to get a license.\n\nThen the others came to realize this somehow as well. Two weeks from my accident; the news came on reporting serial killings on the rise. Within days, there were riots and all order had ceased to be. Everyone wanted something for someone; even if they weren't sure they would get it.\n\nI know because I had to mow down an entire department of game developers before I caught on just how to build elaborate death traps and hiding places. I guess one of the people on the bus happened to have a penchant for killing as well or maybe I was just rolling with the times, as Jack used to say. Or not.\n\nToo bad for Jack, he was among the first to go. I wonder what they got off him. I wonder what I got off this guy. Meanwhile, it was starting to light up. I checked my watch and realized it was still 4 in the morning. That couldn't be right. It's supposed to still be dark in here. \n\nI guess I got lucky." ]	3
	[WP] You are given the chance to gain immortality for up to an X amount of years into the future from present day. But you will have to go back in time the same amount of years. (Ex: 500 years, immortality from 1515-2515) How far are you willing to go?	[ "I've always been scared.\n\nScared of rejection. Scared of isolation. My fears eat away at my words so that they always come scrambled out of my mouth, right onto the plates of laughing boys and girls, always pointing, patronizing me behind my back. The only escape from the burning sensations of shame licking my soul during the day is the few, precious hours of sleep, where I can escape into fantastical dreams where I am the confident, popular master of my own fate. When the cracks of dawn pry my eyes open, I have to wipe away my drowsiness and tears of disappointment. All I ever wanted was a friend. I'd give anything.\n\nOh, I can wait. He seemed surprised I would be willing to risk it all. I wasn't the smartest kid in school, so maybe all these time and space shenanigans were much more dangerous than I thought they would be. But the chance to restart... to grow and develop into the man I always wanted to be is something I couldn't pass up. I told him as much, and his eyes stared at me with some sad resignation.\n\nI'm still scared. I don't understand what happened, but the man kept his word. Here I am, floating naked somewhere without light or darkness. Complete void, swallowing every mistake in my past, wiping a clean slate for me to shape my own future. All I see are my thin, pasty hands quivering before me. Oh yes, I can wait. I'd give anything for a friend.\n\nA small smile forces itself onto my face. I feel something in my hands. There's a small orb, intangible and invisible, but I know it's there. I tenderly stroke its perfect curves, its innocent countenance. Maybe I could shape my own world. Make my own friend. After all, I have eternity to do so.", "\"Fiat Lux\"\n___________\n\nHow long has it been now? Time seems irrelevant, at this point. However long I have been here -- wherever \"here\" may be -- is entirely peripheral to my dilemma. I don't even know what my dilemma is. I don't know how long it has been. I don't know where I am. I don't know what has happened. I don't know anything.\n\nThat's not entirely true: I know I can't move. I can't even feel my body -- I don't think I have one. I know I can't see anything. There is no light, but I can't say it is dark either. Everything is just... vague and nebulous.\n\nHave I died? Is this what it means to die? Am I even here? Am \"I\" at all? \n\nI must be. \"Cogito ergo sum.\" I must be. I am.\n\nAnd yet, reality feels different -- somehow... opened. All prior existential limitations are void. My consciousness has been untethered from the confines of physical embodiment; I no longer require sleep or sustenance. I am devoid of instinct. I exist effortlessly, timelessly, sans requisite. Nonexistence is impossible. My existence has become unconditional. I am unconditional. \n\nPerception is the only recognizable attribute that I have retained from my former state of existence. I know that I can perceive, and I know that I only perceive myself. Am I limited to perceiving only myself, or am I all that there is to perceive? I doubt the former, as my perception feels anything but limited; indeed, quite the opposite. I have never been less finite than now. \n\nReality is defined by all that is perceived. I perceive only myself, thus I am all that is perceived; I am reality. I am perception made conscious. I am!\n\nIf I am indistinguishable from reality, then the nature of reality is tantamount to my perception of myself. Reality shall be defined by my perception alone, and my perception shall be boundless. \n\nNo longer shall reality be enshrouded from me. No longer shall reality be formless and void. No longer shall I be blind.\n\nLet there be light." ]	2
	[WP] You find a message in a bottle, but, it's from the future	[ "The Bottle on the Shore:\n-----\n\n As I strolled along the beach\n Nearby the long and broken wharf,\n I saw it bobbing in the surf -\n A little bottle, white as bleach.\n \n Against the waves, it reached the shore;\n I felt that I could not ignore\n The mystery and strange intrigue\n Of the bottle, with its note unique.\n \n The note had sprawled across its front\n A message, dull, but for its blunt\n Hand-writing that I recognized -\n These pen-strokes, I could not disguise.\n\n It seems I wrote a message to\n Myself, though how, I wish I knew;\n But stranger yet, and more profound:\n The writing said \"don't turn around!\"\n", "One time I was walking down the beach and from a short distance I noticed a bottle. I played with the idea of picking it up.\n\nDon't do it. \nDo it.\n\nI picked it up, and to my surprise it was sparkling clean, uncracked and still sealed. Behold! There was something inside, what could it be? \n\nA small white piece of paper was inside. \n\nIn an instant I had opened it, the cap came off with a twist and confident hand. How am I supposed to get the thing out?\n\nI looked along the sand and saw nothing of use. I resolved to make my way back towards the trees. As I walked my mind was completely wrapped in the possibilities this bottle could be. What if I could go home?\n\nThe trees grew taller in front of me and soon overtook me. I could see the light of the first torch now. Almost back.\n\nPast the second torch.\n\nI'm back in my camp. I have tools here, I grab a couple thin sticks and use them to retrieve the paper. It falls out and onto my hand. \n\nMy hands shakily, and nervously open the paper, it looks like a picture. It is a picture. Its of me. I think it's me. That's what I looked like. It's me.\n\nI'm looking at a newspaper article, on me. \n\n\"South Carolina man found after lost and stranded for 4 years.\"\n\nAs my mind near melted at the sight, I began to think myself insane. As quickly as these thoughts came rushing I heard a large roaring and the canopy above shook violently. A shower of leaves fell upon me and every bird screamed and flew.\n\nAnd I ran, i ran as fast as I could towards the water. Past the first torch, then the second in a blind flash of adrenaline. I see the sand and the trees melt behind me. when I reach sand I see it, in all its glory, throwing a storm of sand and a cacophony of noise throughout the jungle... There it is. The rescue helicopter. I'm finally going home.\n", "The air was warm and carried the sea with it. The cackling of some fucking thing or other carried across to me from an outcrop of rocks that broke the waves into white furls and spouts. The bottle was at my feet. I opened it.\n\nThe air inside smelt like burning. I turned the bottle upside down and the roll of white paper fell out into my palm. It crackled as I unfurled it. The message inside was simple.\n\nWRITE THIS NOTE\n\nThat was when he came racing up behind me. I heard the thump of his foot and the hiss of the sand he carved up in his wake and turned around quickly enough to see him. Only it wasn't him; it was me.\n\n\"It's got to be exactly the same,\" this new me said, this terrifying fucking me-thing wearing a me-shaped skin and occupying a me-shaped space. \"I don't know what'll happen if it doesn't. I'm not prepared to find out, so it's got to be exactly the same.\"\n\nHis me-voice, my voice speaking to myself - this self. I felt dizzy. Sweat prickled my forehead. \"Exactly the same,\" he said. He grabbed the bottle from my grasp and smashed it against a rock. One wicked, sharp gleaming point jutted out. \n\nHe jammed it into his neck and twisted. He - I - we - fell.\n\nI doubled over and heaved. Spots swam in front of my eyes. Shakily, and swaying like the trees, I ran off the beach. I couldn't get away fast enough. I darted behind an old wooden hut and was consumed by fire.\n\nPurple jags of lightning struck me, tore at me. I felt split apart by a vibrating inside that gripped my skull and clenched my fists against my will. I was lifted; thrown. I landed.\n\nGroggily, I righted myself. I stumbled into the hut. Among the detritus was a fishing net, torn and useless. An old bucket, rusted to the ground. A bottle. A pen. A sheet of paper.\n\nWith a scream I couldn't let out choking me from inside my throat, I looked up and out of the window, knowing what I'd see. \n\nThere I was. The carefree man walking down the beach. Feeling the warm air that carried the sea with it. Hearing the cackling of some fucking thing or another carried across to him from an outcrop of rocks that broke the waves into white furls and spouts.\n\nSickened by fear, I understood the ramblings of the bottle-wielding me. If I chose a new path, any path, other than what I'd seen, anything could happen. Anything at all. What would happen to the world - to be made or unmade or made new or torn apart completely? Would I risk the universe and take a chance on all reality? Would I really do this terrible, bloody thing? Why this? Just because I'd seen it? Why had he done it in the first place? Why this? Why me? \n\nI didn't have time to answer any of these questions, so I just picked up the pen and in my neat, controlled hand, wrote the last words I'd ever write:\n\nWRITE THIS NOTE " ]	3
Make it however you'd like.	[WP] There are little creatures that hide personal items that you are likely to look for, such as car keys, and one man has finally caught one.	[ "I had it clenched gingerly in my fist. Its furry little body writhed to escape. Slowly, I let my thumb part from my forefinger, just a fraction of an inch. I peered in. It was brown, about the size of a mouse, with an adorable little face and fey, violet eyes. In the scramble it had dropped my bookmark.\n\nBending down from where I sat on the edge of the bed, I retrieved the object. The creature, still my prisoner, eyed me suspiciously. Its bright violet eyes seemed to take in everything.\n\n\"And where might you have been taking this?\" I asked it, peering grandfatherly over the top of spectacles.\n\nTo my surprise, the little thing grinned. A wicked little grin, if my judgement was to be trusted.\n\n\"Oh, human\" it cackled. \"You do not know the value of such things. You stuff it between the pages of some fairy story, so as not to lose your place. You would not miss it much. Let me have it, let me go!\" it suddenly screeched.\n\nI was startled. My lips were dry. I licked them, and tugged at my collar. Then I felt its teeth sink into a fold of my palm, and I dropped it. Dumbfounded, I watched it scurry towards my closet door, then slip under it without effort...my bookmark was gone.", "It was furry and tiny, with a mouthful of teeth that reminded Andrew of a piranha. But more importantly, it was holding his car keys as though it were driving and Andrew was riding shotgun. \n\n\"Um, hello?\"\n\n\"Oh, darn it! This isn't good.\"\n\nThe tiny thing tried to dart away but Andrew raised his hand and dropped the wine glass around it. With a shriek it bounced off the glass walls and landed on the counter, still trapped. Andrew watched as it offered a few choice words, picked itself up, and fixed a glare at him. \n\n\"Well, you did it now!\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"You know I've got a family to take care of, right?!\"\n\n\"Uh, no.\"\n\nSo Andrew leaned closer as the little furry thing pulled out an album book and motioned him closer: Andrew noticed a row of four creatures in the central photo, one of them he recognized as the little guy trapped in the glass.\n\n\"That's my wife and two children there,\" exclaimed the furry man and Andrew didn't miss that his anger had evaporated. \"People say my son and daughter take after my wife.\"\n\nAndrew managed a wan smile: to him, they all looked like the hairballs he left in the shower drain. \n\n\"Look, I've got these guys counting on me back home. Say you let me go and I promise I won't ever come back here.\"\n\n\"I, uh, can't do that. Those are my car keys and I'm already late for work.\"\n\nAndrew pulled out his wallet, flipped through it for a bit, and held it against the glass. \n\n\"My own wife and daughter-aren't they beautiful? But both of these ladies are counting on me to get to work today. And tomorrow. And the day after that.\"\n\nAndrew stared at the furry man for a moment, their eyes flickering at once to the car keys. They were the set to his Volvo, complete with the \"Lucky Penny\" trinket he'd picked up from Las Vegas last summer with his ladies. \n\n\"Wait a minute.\"\n\nCarefully, he lifted the glass slightly and snatched the keys before his furry prisoner could object. The furry man immediately launched more of those choice words, exposing his razors-posing-as-teeth as Andrew fiddled with the key ring. \n\n\"Here you go.\"\n\nThe furry man looked up as Andrew raised the glass and placed the \"Lucky Penny\" trinket beside him. \n\n\"Still count?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes! Thank you very much!\"\n\nAndrew nodded as the furry man beamed up at him, then scampered away with lightning speed. He tried to follow the man as he left but shrugged and smiled. \n\nMondays. ", "Jacob stirred suddenly in his armchair as a high-pitched ringing filled the air. He sat upright, fumbling in his breast pocket for his spectacles as he got to his feet. The ringing was coming from somewhere upstairs, the sound of a tiny bell cutting through the dusty air like a knife. It was irregular, slowing and speeding up, and sometimes stopping for a few moments before starting again.\n\nJacob shuffled to the foot of the stairs and began the laborious climb to the top as quickly as he could. Halfway up, he had to take a rest for a few moments before continuing. His body was complaining that he was much too old to be doing this sort of running about. But his mind was still young, and it held the casting vote.\n\nHe reached the summit and stopped for a moment, listening intently. As if on cue, the tinkling of the bell started up again to the right. The study? He moved closer to the tall wooden door, his slippered feet barely making a sound on the carpet. The sound of the bell was slightly muffled by the thick wood, but it was definitely in there.\n\nJacob smiled to himself. He knew that they liked shiny valuables the most, and the silver fountain pen he had left on his desk in there was probably one of the most alluring items in the house. Tiny belongings and knick-knacks were scattered about the place in strategic locations, just begging to be lifted by miniscule hands. But Jacob was a step ahead of them. What he lacked in youth and speed, he more than made up for with pensioner's intellect and a sharp eye for the unusual. That was how he had spotted one in the first place.\n\nHe grasped the ornate brass doorknob and breathed out slowly, then pushed the door open. It creaked slightly as it swung aside, revealing the spacious study beyond. Ancient bookcases lined the walls, their shelves groaning with the weight of hundreds of old books and ornaments. Sunlight streamed in through a large skylight, trapping the dust particles floating in the air like a spotlight.\n\nThe ringing was coming from his desk near the centre of the room. It was one of the big ones made of polished oak, with bronze handles glinting on its numerous drawers. Jacob edged towards it carefully, until he was within a few feet of touching it. Then he saw the tiny figure struggling on the desktop.\n\nIt was about three inches tall, with grey-green skin and the same proportions as a human adult, except for the bat-like ears and long pointed nose. Its clothing looked like it had been cobbled out of discarded sweet wrappers and safety pins. As Jacob watched, the creature attempted to free itself from the snare he had made from fishing line and a few interesting bits and bobs by biting through the cord that entangled its legs and torso.\n\nIt suddenly looked up as his shadow fell across the desktop and squealed, trying to back away as fast as it could. Jacob watched it for a few moments.\n\n'Thought you'd try and steal my fountain pen again, did you?' he said, smiling. 'I've known about you little fellows for some time now. It was only a matter of time before I managed to catch one of you.'\n\nThe little humanoid bared its pointed teeth. 'Do your worst, human,' it hissed in a high-pitched voice that reminded Jacob of the irritating buzz of a fly. 'I will give you no pleasure in torturing me.'\n\n'Torture you?' chuckled Jacob. 'Dear me, no! I only wanted to speak with one of your kind. I know you lot are responsible for the little things that everyone \"loses\" from time to time.'\n\n'Can't prove it was us,' snarled the creature.\n\n'Oh, really?' said Jacob. 'Then what were you doing trying to steal my fountain pen?'\n\n'Oh, fine,' said the creature, folding its tiny arms. 'So I tried to take your pen. They make fine weapons if you swing 'em right, though.'\n\n'Weapons?' said Jacob. 'Who on earth do you have to fight?'\n\n'Rats, other tribes, each other,' said the creature. 'Like you'd care what we do. You humans are so caught up in your own lives, you barely notice us. And we outnumber you a hundred to one!'\n\n'I noticed you,' replied Jacob.\n\n'Only because you have nothing else to be doing,' retorted the creature. 'Anyway, why the hell would you want to speak to one of us?'\n\n'I was curious,' said Jacob. 'I've only ever seen your kind out of the corner of my eye. Why do you hide trinkets? Keys, coins, paperclips, pens. They're not of much use to someone your size, are they?'\n\n'Wrong, sir, wrong!' cried the diminutive figure. 'You have no idea what uses we can find for such things! I never go anywhere without a paperclip handy, and that's a fact!' He brandished a badly bent piece of wire that may have once been a paperclip.\n\nJacob smiled. 'But a paperclip won't get you out of that snare, will it?'\n\n'The one day I go treasure hunting without my knife, and I get caught,' grumbled the creature. It looked up at the old man. 'Although, I have to admit, human, that this is one devious snare you have constructed. I never saw it.'\n\n'Human?' said Jacob. 'Please, call me Jacob. By the way, may I ask what name you go by?'\n\nThe creature grimaced. 'Only if you let me out of this thing.'\n\nJacob sighed and pulled open a drawer in the desk. He took out a letter opener and set it in front of the creature. It immediately seized it and began sawing away at its bonds.\n\n'The name's Klept,' it said, furiously cutting away the tangle of cords. 'Of the Ratfighter clan.'\n\n'Well, it's nice to meet you, Klept,' said Jacob graciously. 'Does your species have a name, then?'\n\n'You humans have no name for what you do not know exists, but we call ourselves the Hiddenfolk,' Klept replied, dropping the letter opener and getting to his feet. He looked up at Jacob with a strange look in his eye. 'Well, I say you do not know we exist, but now you do. What will you do with that knowledge?'\n\nJacob looked back down at him. 'Take it to my grave,' he said solemnly. 'I have no desire to reveal your kind to the world, nor do I want to capture any more of you.'\n\nKlept grinned, showing his teeth again. 'Good,' he said. 'You have a noble heart, Jay-kob. I thank you.' He suddenly became a blur as he shot off the table and disappeared, sending pages fluttering nearby. Jacob looked around, but could see no sign of the tiny Hiddenfolk thief. Then he heard a tiny cough above him, and looked up.\n\nKlept was standing on the sill of the skylight, silhouetted against the sunlight. He looked down on Jacob with his arms folded.\n\n'You know, our people have no skill of writing, no way of remembering beyond the spoken word,' he said. 'We have no historians to remember our deeds, our battles, our triumphs. I wonder, would you be interested in penning our history, to preserve our race's memory?'\n\nJacob smiled. 'I would be honoured,' he replied.\n\n'Then it's settled,' said Klept. 'I shall bring the Hiddenfolk to you, one by one, and you shall hear our stories. And then, we shall finally have something to give to the world, rather than take away from it. See you later, Jay-kob!'\n\nHe hopped out of the window, and was gone.\n\nJacob was left alone in the study. For several long moments, he simply stared at the spot where Klept had stood. Then he shook himself and left the room. There was work to do. He had to buy supplies to record the history of the Hiddenfolk. He pulled on his shoes, his coat, and then patted his pocket. Then the other one. Where were those damn keys?\n\nThen his gaze alighted upon something on the telephone table in the hall and he smiled.\n\nOn the table were the keys, surrounded by several tiny footprints in the dust. And tied to them with a length of fishing line was a tiny silver bell." ]	3
Can be individuals or groups, Fantasy or Sci-Fi and end in tears or in smiles.	[WP] Newly made allies, forged in the heat of a raging conflict. As their struggles become insurmountable, their bond becomes unbreakable.	[ "The concussive wave of the ion charge blast might have sent my body hurtling through the air like a ragdoll, but my primary concerns were keeping my hands gripped around my rifle and trying to see straight as the screeching winds fought against my eyelids’ ability to stay open. I triggered the release on my mechachute just before slamming into the crest of a worn arid hillside. \n\nWhatever instincts I had gleaned from training kicked in and I quickly slid to cover behind a large bush. I peered through its needled surface and surveyed the situation of Super Company’s failed drop. Several of SC’s paratroopers had made it to the ground but most were being slaughtered by machine gun fire or bandied about through the lower atmosphere by ion charges like I had been. Many weren’t as lucky as myself, I noted, as I watched several of the displaced paratroopers drift out into the distance high over the seemingly endless ocean. They would be stuck in the sea to be picked off easily by the AAF droneships or New South Africa’s notorious bands of sharks that would be swarming the coasts by nightfall, according to our training. \n\nJust as I looked back away from the shoreline and into the warzone, I caught the brief blue flash of another ion charge and felt my entire body sizzle with a warm electric glow. The charge had exploded in the dirt a few feet in front of me and before I even had time to recollect on how lucky I was to be alive, the ground beneath me had collapsed and fell a dozen feet into a large cave, brush and rubble raining down all around me. \n\nAs I stood up achingly from the rocks and dust strewn about, I saw another figure also struggling to pull himself up from the debris of the collapse. As he rose, I noticed the three red lines sewn into the upper left sleeve of his uniform and a slim shaft of light from the hole high above illuminated the lettering stenciled across his breastpocket: AAF. \n\nHis eyes narrowed as he made similar conclusions about my dress and demeanor, and both of our suspicious glances drifted down to the object lying in between us on the floor of the cave: my rifle. \n\nWithout a word or even a yell, we both rushed for it. \n\n________________________________\nPART 2 COMING SOON", "Holt, Former Perfecture VII, Republic of the Sphere.\n\n--\n\nKillian O'Connell, former lieutenant in the VII Triarii Protectors raced towards the tall hanger, the technicians pushing the sliding doors as quickly as the tired rollers could. The bright morning light of the humid Holt summer spilled into the large space, casting light on the red and gold painted battlemech. The hatch opened with a press of the control button on his watch, the armored glass cockpit screen flipping back on its hydraulics. His booted feet clanked up the stairs of the mobile scaffolding, zipping up his coolant vest as he did so. He wore relatively little, the interior of a mech could reach unbearable levels and any clothing that could be done away with was left behind. Stout boots with good ankles support and breathablity, basketball shorts even though O'Connell never played and that was it. The heavy M-12 neurohelmet weighed some two kilograms, positively feather light compared to the monstrosities they wore during the Succession Wars.\n\nHe vaulted into cockpit one handed, neatly landing in his pilot's seat with hardly a grunt. The rumble seat behind him was folded up and away, a rather superfluous feature in O'Connell's mind. He never used it before except for taking dates on joyrides. In that regard it functioned spectacularly well. The VOX 325 Extra-Light fusion engine was already running idle as he strapped himself in, the five point harness ensuring he remain in his seat. He took the thick fluid filled cable of his coolant vest and screwed it into its port. With a press of a button, hyper cooled gel pumped itself through the tubing laced through the vest. Setting his helmet on his head he made sure that the sensors had a firm grip on his scalp, and plugged the jack in. Instant he felt a jolt of energy and light-headiness course through him. His mental signals contacted the computer, telling it that its pilot was ready. \n\n\"IDENTIFICATION PLEASE.\" The on-board AI asked. The computer at the heart of the machine was nonsentient, and rather was used to calculate the endless scrolling figures that needed to be crunched for a successful action. He moved the trottle of the Scourge forward, the AI did the rest as they like to joke at the academy.\n\n\"Killian T. O'Connell.\" His Connaught brogue would have been enough of a security measure.\n\n\"PASSWORD?\"\n\n\"Too long a sacrifice\n\nCan make a stone of the heart.\n\nO when may it suffice?\"\n\n\"... WELCOME, O'CONNELL. REACTOR ONLINE. SENSORS ONLINE. WEAPONS ONLINE. ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL.\"\n\nA press of a button and the cockpit hatch shut with a hermetically sealed hiss, the freezers blessedly cool against the jungle humidity. He peered out his screen at the other mechs and vehicles. The deadly 80 ton Morrigu fire support vehicle had just finished buttoning up, the slow behemoth trundling out with its escort of Kinnol MBTs. They were going to their preassigned positions to act as a knife stop and halt any attackers on the main road into the dropport. A voice sounded out of his speakers. \n\n\"You ready, Kit?\" Former lieutenant (J.G.) Polly Darrow asked. They served in the same mech company in the RAF. She waved with the hand of her JVN-11A Javelin as she and Sergeant Lynn in his Shockwave left the hanger. Glendenning was clambering into Stalking Spider II, the four legged mech painted in the white and gold of the Principes Guards. It was Clan Sea Fox made and as deadly as a 45 tonner could get. \n\n\"Ready, Dan?\" O'Connell asked, kissing the crucifix round his neck. \n\n\"... Yeah, 'bout as ready as I'll ever get with people about to kill me.\" Good ole' Daniel \"Eeyore\" Glendenning. The man was a walking depressant. \n\n\"Cheer up, Dan. If your ticket's punched, I'll take good care of Charlotte.\" Charlotte being his mech. Charlotte... spider... not very creative Glendenning was. \n\n\"Bullshit. You'd sell her in a heart beat.\"\n\n\"Sell her? Never. She's clantech.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, sure you will. Alright. I'm set. Lead on, Macduff.\"\n\nGrinning, O'Connell nudged the throttle foward, the 65 tons of his SCG-WF1 Scourge felt with each step of its reinforced legs. The comms waves were filled with warnings and speculations, of estimates and orders. Civilians and support personnel fled like ants towards the shelters that would protect them, flowing around the mechs like water around boulders. Only in battle can one truly test one's mettle, forge oneself into something more. And at the helm of one of these metal titans, it was easy to forget one was merely a man.\n\n ", "On one side stood the army of the most vile and evil creatures ever imagined. Horrible five headed monsters and snakes with wings lined up behind their leader, the queen of evil. She stood with a dark robe and an purple human body. On the other side, the dragons took their position behind fortified castles with some of the best weapons ever crafted by these mortals. The dragon king, while looking mostly human, could beat any dragon in a battle of the wits or strength. The second in commands stood by their leaders ready to give advice when needed. Isabelle, the human helper for the queen, and George, the long time assistant to the king, stood next to their leaders, ready to fight to the end of time to secure their powerful place. With one terrible screech, the queen ordered her army forward against the enemy across a large, flat plain. The dragons, not ones to be on the defensive, left the safety of their fortress and flew to get the first kill. Once the two armies met, the fighting became a mess of bodies. It seemed that two warring opponents could kill each other with unmatched brutality at almost the same time. Gore flew all around while confused fighters hacked at the dead until something living came and ended them. For all the fighting between the two, the combat made by the warring monarchs was the worst of all. Each blow by the two all powerful beings left a trail of dead on both sides. \n\n\"We used to be together. We were born together, but then you were chosen over me. Kept by a family and allowed to grow while I, the stronger of us, was forced to slave for a wicked witch for years while you lived in luxury!\" \n\nThe King of the dragons shouted in reply to his sister, \"Luxury! Nothing I had was luxury, Every day I worked to match the pace of these dragons. I fought to learn their language, their ways, I spent years in their prisons until I killed dozens of them in my escape. There was no luxury for me!\" \n\nThey exchanged blows for another minute, harming only the armies beneath them until his sister yelled, \"You see, we were born to save our race. The last of our kind, yet of all the obstacles we face, we would be the death of our people. A once proud and glorious race left to two fighting with mortals only to see the other dead. What happened to us.\" With tears in her eyes, she struck again, killing countless on both sides by accident. \"You didn't even have the decency to look for me after those dragons took you in. I suffered under the rule of that witch until I killed her and saved everyone from the eternal pain she was causing. \n\n\"Save you! You should have looked for me. I waited every day for years for you to come in and help me kill these terrible beasts, but instead I had to wait. I had to wait for my chance to get out. To seek revenge.\" \n\nTears emerged in his eyes as he knocked his sister off balance and stood, prepared to strike her down. The two stared at each other, and then realized the situation below them. The second in commands, one wounded and the other dying, saw the battle field before them and how the two leaders were killing fleeing soldiers. Not soldiers fleeing from a righteous death from the enemy, but from a death by their leader. They looked from the dueling monarchs to each other. \n\n\"These beasts above us will be the death of us both.\"\n\n\"I agree. We must do something to end them. They can't be fit to rule.\"\n\n They looked at each other, and in the dying breath of the dragon, Isabelle ordered her army to join the dragons. At her command, a spectacular event unfolded. The army of evil formed into a wicked looking fire and flew into the dragon's mouths. The new flames inside the dragons gave them immense power as they turned to face their rulers. \n\n\"Do you see. Our fighting has done nothing but ended any hope we had for a future. Our time is over because of revenge and jealousy. We fought each other for power without thinking about the monsters below us we used to get here. Brother, let's stop the fighting.\"\n\n\"I can't believe what we have done to ourselves.\" The dragons took a deep breath in and exhaled with the power of a sun exploding. \"Sister, our fighting is over, but the world below us doesn't have to be.\" With tears in their eyes and the knowledge they had failed their species, they embraced not as friends and not as enemies, but as brother and sister reunited at last. As the fire, capable of burning the Earth three times, reached the two, they used the last of their strength to absorb it and flee up into the heavens above where they released their energy and stood, forever together, watching the land they once ruled.", "His hand clenched, knuckles white his blows found their target, after target. They fell from the might of his rage, this rage he knew whould be the final stroll before the great hall. He could feel the warmth of his life flowing from the wounds his enemies had bore into his flesh. It did not matter, today he would dine with the gods. \n\nHis fury was met by the call of a large man atop a war horse. He blew by knocking his blade from his hands his eyes widened in shock that he had only the digits at the extemeties of his arms to depend on for his final bout of glory before his performance in honor of the gods he served and loved.\n\nThe rider was a ways off, his horse rearing back in homage to the master who's bekon it found its own compusion at the mercy of. He could see his legs thump the sides of the prideful beast as it answered his call with a hastened gait.\n\nHe could see the face of the figure who rode his way, a look of complete concentration and focus. He was honored to fall to such a glorious opponent in the heat of battle, but he would not fall now. Not here at the mercy of his gaze.\n\nThe stem erect from the earth before him like the limb of a fallen comrade reanimated to intensify his glory to the gods.\n\nHe mustered what energy he had stored deep down in his stomach. He could feel his rage burn as he released a spiteful battlecry into the cold crisp air of a strange land he had come to infatuate.\n\nHe pulled the limb from the ground that lay before him. The limb bore a fine piece of glinted ore that it grasped within its sinewey possession. Vegaprymja, the spear that would carry him to the halls of Vallhalla.\n\nThe rider, close now, he pulled the hilt of the long spear into the earth at his back, its point shining in the light of Odin's sun. \n\nThe spear pierced the heart of the beast, its master thrown from its servitude down to the ground in a mangled heap.\n\nVegaprymja was broken in twine, he could see it's steel had met its target, its thirst for blood only emboldened by the life of a lesser being. \n\nHis hand grasped the splintered hilt of what remained of Vegaprymja, freeing it from its bloody cell.\n\nHe let out another battlecry, calling to the gods to witness the glory of his death. His hands tighly clenched around the sturdy wood that had been formed and fashioned into such a fine instrument of godly homage.\n\nHe found his way to the rider who now was nothing more than a man of flesh and blood like himself.\n\nThe mangle heap of man before the great warrior drew back like the serpent, lunging with a single fang for the heart of the warrior before him. His fang met its target, blood pouring from the wound.\n\nHe grasped his new ally, Vegaprymja, for one final blow. He gripped the hilt now as a dagger which he drew behind his shoulder for one final hammer swing, his hands sticky with the blood Vegaprymja had drank, meeting its final resting place deep into the skull of the riders face.\n\nHe lifted his chin once more, shouting to the gods the name of the fine weapon they had blessed him with in his final moments before his time in their great halls. He would ask the Valkarie to carry him with Vegaprymja to the great hall to do battle forever in the echoes of eternity, quenching its unsatable thirst for glory and honor.\n\nHe slumped over, smiling to the sky once more as he met the twilight, knowing he had pleased the gods, knowing his ancestors would be proud and welcome him, gladly into the embrace of the great hall of Valahalla." ]	4
	[WP] A Red Cross technician uses donated blood to cover up his crimes	[ "It is easy to do. You'd be both surprised and horrified once you realize just how easy it really is. Murder. One of the most despicable actions a man can take is also one of the easiest once you create a mental barrier that blocks your conscious from realizing the true nature of your actions. \n\nI tried it once before I joined the Red Cross. It was harder then. The precise planning involved in pulling it off alone was exhausting. For instance; I stalked and stalked and stalked him on Facebook, Instagram, Google+ (let's get one thing straight here though, anyone who actually signed up for Google+ deserved to be murdered) and because he had so much faith in the world I was able to pull his physical address off of his online profile so I even got to stalk him in person. It was long. It was grueling. It was boring. Once I finally went in for the kill I realised that is what gets me off. Long preparation doesn't do it for me. The sexual release of watching the light fade out of their eyes, thats what gets me off.\n\nIt was just after the massive earthquake in Haiti that I had my idea. Thousands of people were already dead there why should a few more make any difference? I could go there, \"volunteer,\" and come back to the States with no one being any wiser to what I had done. I signed up that day, and within a week I received my first assignment; sorting donated blood for the recipients in Haiti.\n\nI never even thought about using the blood to put someone else at the crime until I had already flipped the lights off of three victims in that third world hell hole. I had accidently gotten some on me when a bag had ruptured and my first thought was \"who the fuck do I have on me?\" Then it clicked. Like the switch I was turning off behind each eye of my victim, but this time it was flipping on. If I don't know who's blood is on me than there is no way the corrupt, inefficient, ineffective, and largely non existent Haitian government would ever be able to figure it out. \n\nI'm still here, still in Haiti. Getting blood from the shipments is easier than buying off one of the local police force. I know I could probably get away with the murders without the planted specks of blood. However, it's a fail safe. Today was victim 112. In the States this would be plastered all over the news. Here? I think maybe 1/4 of eyes that have closed for their last time in front of my indifferent face have even made it to the back page of the local news, let alone the minimal national news they have here. I won't be caught. I won't be suspected even. You know who will? Frank McGrath from St. Louis WOULD be suspected. Courtney Henderson from Seattle, WA WOULD be suspected. 108 other people from the States WOULD be suspected if they ever bothered to test for DNA here. But they won't test, so they won't be suspected, and I won't be caught. Tomorrow will be day 113 here. It will also be 113 set of eyes that close for the last time. I'm just trying to figure out who will be \"joining\" me from thousands of miles away without even knowing it. ", "It always excited him. It wasn't that it got boring, it ALWAYS excited him. It just got less exciting. The crimson trickles and scarlet drops made his face flush the same color. In his dreams, he bathed in it. He let the flowing redness flow around him, flow in him, flow through him. \n\nIt was during the daily subway ride to the clinic that he tasted the sweet rush of his lust once again. The woman slipped on the platform and her soft skin gave way easily to the sinister metal edge of the platform floor. Her leg was soon patterned with rivulets of her juices, like lightning streaking down to the earth. People called for help as she lay there, holding the wound, but he was frozen. The freshness. The spontaneity. This is what living felt like. His nose took long draughts of the faint metallic smell. His eyes were locked on the drops beaded on the ground. \n\nThat day at the clinic was an utter disappointment. With every donor, he still felt the power of the hot bags as they filled, but it was nothing compared to that morning. \n\nThat night, he fumbled with his keys in the lock. He was shaking, trembling trying to get inside as quickly as possible. He flowed through the door, his smooth, long steps hurried as he approached the single object in his basement. A wall to wall refrigerator, streaming across the room, with several doors to provide easy access to its contents. \n\nHis vials brought him no comfort. Even as he gently dipped each finger in a vial, letting someone's life force tremble in a small dome on each slender fingertip, he still shook violently. \n\nHe needed something fresh. \n\nSomething difficult. Not like the easy pickings at the clinic no that would not do he needed a challenge like the woman on the platform he needed the freshness the intensity he needed the lustfulness of that morning. \n\nA knock.\n\nIt was an angel, here to deliver the relief. His eye was pressed so hard against the peephole, he could feel the indentation of the metal ring even after he had pulled his face away. She said something through the door, but the pounding current against his ears consumed that sense. \n\nHe slowly opened the door, smiling. The angel said something else. He nodded. He beckoned. She followed. Obedient angel. Down the steps. His heart smashed their valves open and closed, pumping power and confidence through his arteries, down to his tissues and back through his veins to start each beautiful cycle over again. The knife pushed against his waist; he had no memory of how it had gotten there. \n\nWhen he could finally see through the red haze of his vision, he saw it. His quaking ceased. His eyes rolled in their sockets, caressing each and every red line that streaked across his angel's skin. She had come and split open the thin facade between them, exposing her most base feature, the source of her life. \n\nBut he knew not everyone would share his fascination. So he bagged up the husk after everything important had been transferred to vials, and walked to freezer. Eventually he would dump the husk, but he would need to erase the evidence. \n\nOr place some. \n\nHe had much of it. ", "Wanna know how to get away with murder?\n\nIt’s easy, really. Take one unsuspecting victim (preferably at night), one weapon of your choice, and an insatiable thirst for watching the life drain from someone’s eyes. Pre-meditate and stir thoroughly until you have your desired results.\n\nOh, and don’t forgot the most important ingredient – someone else’s blood.\n\nThat’s where it gets tricky. As a Red Cross technician, I have an unlimited source of the stuff but it takes some finesse to get it. Luckily for you, I’ve been doing this for years. My method is foolproof, give or take.\n\nFirst, a predator has to know their prey if they intend to stalk the night again.\n\nI like to do a little research on those who are getting the ax. You know, for practical reasons. And luck be a lady, social media has made stalking easier than ever before. Everyone has a Twitter or is at least stupid enough to accept a friend’s request on Facebook from some no-named “cousin twice-removed” from Nebraska. Once you get that far, it’s time for some covert affairs.\n\nLearn everything about them. Their habits, their friends – hell, I’ll even get their shitting patterns down to a science. After enough time, you should be able to predict where said person will go at all times and – if you’re lucky – who they’re having issues with.\n\nOh, Lara Whitman from two towns over had a huge feud with her ex-boyfriend Tom? How convenient…\n\nSecond, a predator must plan their prey’s death to the finest detail.\n\nOnce your prey is ready to be reaped, you need to paint the perfect picture so the prime suspect stays that way. Tom, despite being an A-Class douchebag, just happens to be a frequent donor. Excellent.\n\nAfter monitoring his general work schedule (selfies can be deadly, kids), I’ll sync our times so he comes to donate at the same time I’m available. I’ll take a restroom break before, just to make sure no one else occupies my chair. Good luck trying to blame a murder on a random person otherwise.\n\nOnce the stars align and Tom is so “graciously” donating, I’ll be looking up all his information. It doesn’t take much but this part is pivotal for the entire plan to come together. If you mess it up, good luck waiting for another four to six months.\n\nSo you do your job, coach him through the process despite him doing it countless times before. After everything is peaches and cream, send Tom on his way with a shit-eating grin on your face. Don’t feel afraid to give a “thank you for your donation”, if you’re feeling the need to lay it on thick. Relish in his unawareness.\n\nAnd then it’s time to wait.\n\nApproximately thirty-six hours later, Tom will call Red Cross. He’ll tell them he fears his blood may be at risk of STDs because he likes to sleep around with skanks rather than staying loyal to his girlfriend. Of course, you’ll be playing the part as Tom – everyone’s favorite asshole – but they’ll never know as long as you have his information. And once the deed is done, collect the blood (discreetly) before it is disposed.\n\nThird, a predator must set the scene. After all, murder is an art.\n\nGive it time. You have to walk before you run. All rushing will do is get you stuck in a cell, so don’t be afraid to take it slow. A few days should suffice.\n\nWhen Lara Whitman lets her guard down, you strike. She’ll walk down the street, a drunken mess as she tries to forget the years she spent with her future murderer. And there you'll enter stage left, the gentleman offering to escorting her back home so no one can take advantage her. Be gentle. No still means no. It also means you’ll have to hide in the shadows until she think she's alone.\n\nRegardless of how you get there, when you find her vomiting that extra daiquiri she shouldn’t have had in the dark alleyway, you know you’ve made it. And while she curses to the heavens for her awful luck, you’ll raise the crowbar, casting a shadow of death over her. Call her name, if that’s your fetish. Some guys get off to that.\n\nThen strike.\n\nAnd again.\n\nDo it as long as she breaths – as long as you need to make you happy. Just don’t get her blood on your clothes. It’s tricky but still an imperative. You don’t want to fuck up so late in the game.\n\nOnce you’re standing over the mangled body of what was once Ms. Lara Whitman, take some of Tom’s blood and sprinkle it around. Be conservative, please. The blood of the suspect is a garnish, not the main dish.\n\nWhen you’re happy with the murder, get as far away before anyone stumbles across the body. Depending on the part of town you’re in and the time, you may have to move quickly. But as I’ve said before, not fast enough to raise suspicions.\n\nGive or take a few days for the investigation to boil and voila, you’ve gotten away with murder.\n\nYou’ll see Tom’s smug face posted on the local news station. You’ll hear everything you’ve observed and planned – from the tumultuous breakup to the irrefutable blood evidence found at the scene of the crime. You’ll hear the Whitman family lament for their “precious girl”, teary-eyed and anger in their words as they call for justice. You’ll sit back, closing your eyes as you orgasm at your sheer brilliance. Enjoy the moment, you deserve it.\n\nBut don't take too long, the next victim is waiting." ]	3
	[WP] The one you should never have dated.	[ "I wrote this poem a little over a year ago…..\n\n* I'm BETTER Than You \n\nAll this talking, gets us nowhere\n\nwhy do you get worked up? you don't care\n\nYou lied, you cheated, you broke my heart\n\nand though nobody warned me from the start\n\nGuess it's my own fault for being so dumb\n\nI know I was stupid but I was so young\n\nIt was over the moment you told me about you two\n\nyou slept with her, there is nothing I can do\n\nI'll move on and find someone great\n\nmy heart will be filled with love and not hate\n\nGood luck, goodbye, I wish you well, I do\n\nyou know why? because I'm better, \n\nI'm BETTER than you!", "Life was better now, without him. Without the lies, the cheating, the money that seemed to endlessly disappear from her account whenever they went out. Without the drugs. She locked her car and walked into her parent’s house. This was a safe place. This is where she would stay for now. \n\n3 days ago…\n\nShe woke up to a smacking sound. He was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. The shadows and glow from the television, positioned just out of view on the floor, danced across the room and she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. What was he doing? She knew the answer. He was masturbating. She was tired of it. Every night she would wake up to find him no longer snuggled next to her in bed. It was never at the same time. Most nights, she would go back to sleep. She didn’t want to be that girlfriend who told their boyfriend he shouldn’t do these things. They had sex every night. Just the way he wanted. Always more than once a day. He always asked for it, so she gave it to him even when she wasn’t feeling it. But tonight, she had had enough. She knew something was off in their relationship, but she was to naïve to see what was happening before her eyes. He was using. She was sure of it. She just needed proof. It was time to end this. \n\nShe sat up in bed and called to him. “What are you doing?” She knew the answer but wanted to see if he would respond. \n\n“Nothing.” He replied. “Go back to sleep.”\n\nShe rocked onto her hands and knees and crawled to the foot of the bed. He had a hunting knife on the floor next to him. What was he doing with the knife?* There was a little wooden box next to the knife. What was in the box? She was confused. Is that where he hides it? He looked up at her with an angry scowl. \n\n“I said to go back to sleep, bitch. This is my time now.” He growled at her. \n\nHe had a pair of fake boobs in his lap. Was he fucking tits? She had never seen this before. What is happening here? She thought to herself. \n\nShe didn’t understand. She thought she was pretty. Tall, blonde and curvy in the right places, but worked hard to keep herself thin so he would love her. She rode dirt bikes with him. It was his most favorite thing to do. She learned for him, even though she was scared. She smoked pot with him daily so she wouldn’t feel left out. His friends called her his shadow. She was always with him. She wanted to please him. She loved him. But love is blind. She didn’t see what was right in front of her face.\n\nHe was mean. He was a cheater. His ex-girlfriend was still very much in the picture. His ex would come over and play with his nieces and nephews whenever she was visiting. His ex would sneak into his room, and he would disappear a few minutes later to “tell her to leave.” Why did she believe this? It was a lie. He would come out smiling. Every single time. How was she so stupid? He was always wiping his nose too. Always sneezing. His face would be flushed and he would be coughing. \n\nThey are just having a quickie. She would tell herself. It’s ok. We will talk about this. He loves me. He tells me he loves me every day. He just can’t let go of her. His ex needs to leave. SHE is the toxic one. But she knew these thoughts were stupid. How could she be so dumb? \n\nShe got out of bed and stormed into the bathroom. Why was he so mean? She sat down on the toilet to pee. When she reached around to grab the roll of toilet paper off of the back, she noticed a powdery residue on the lid of the tank. \n\nAHA! She screamed in her head. She finished up, and ripped a page out of one of his dirty magazines to scrape up the powder with. She used her fingers to brush it into a pile. \n\nWalking back into the room, her hands were shaking. She was worried she would spill the powder on the floor. He was still sitting there on the floor at the foot of the bed. She could tell he was about to finish. His breath was labored and he was sweating. She stood in front of him, blocking the television, paper in hand. \n\n“Move bitch!” He yelled. He only called her a bitch when he was high. She hated it. \n\n“I need to talk to you. What is this?” She said, as she thrust the tiny mound of powder and paper in his face. \n\n“Fuck off.”\n\n“No! I need you to talk to me.” Her voice started to quiver. She hated confrontation. “Is this what I think it is? Please don’t lie to me. I love you.” \n\nTears were streaming down her face now. He was visibly irritated with her. He let out a big sigh and threw the disgusting fake tits onto the floor next to the tiny box, and stood up. \n\n\n\nAnyone interested in more? :)\n" ]	2
	[WP] The world's most important chess game is about to start.	[ "I was curious as to what his first move would be.\n\ne4, e5, nf3, nc6\n\nThe last hundred years of chess had led up to this moment. I knew they couldn't be serious, no one could actually \"solve\" chess.\n\nd4, nf6, c4, e6\n\nAnd yet, they sounded so sure... They, the engineers that developed him.\n\nc4... Nah, there's no way.. Has to be e4 or d4...\n\nThis was to be the defining moment of chess. Probably the biggest match since Kasparov versus Deep Blue. Granted, Kasparov was weak compared to me. Not his fault, advances in technology have been crazy since his day, which I guess is exactly why I'm sitting here.\n\ne4, c5, nf3.. No point thinking about it, there's so many variations...\n\nHe walked in. He almost looked like a real person. The nose was a bit off I guess, but who cares. Nice of them to build a robot to go along with the engine. Cuts out the middle man. \n\nAlright, what's it going to be...\n\nHe played his move as he sat down. G4.\n\nG4?", "My opponent's deep brown eyes stared intently at his forces as I awaited his first move. His mind, I could tell, were racing through the possibilities of the sixty-four squares before him as fast as he could process. The look on his face was one I knew well. It was the same one I wore in the hundreds of games I had played during my long career as a Grandmaster. Winning and losing the world championships were exciting, but in the face of this game, they were like casual Sunday blitz.\n\n\"Akhil?\" I spoke, breaking the silence of the room.\n\n\"Yes, dad?\" He replied.\n\n\"Now that you know the rules, would you like to try playing a game?\"\n\nMy heart warmed as my son's face lit up. His little hand reached for his e-pawn.", "In the 23rd century conventional warfare came to an end. Unimaginably powerful weapons made it possible to literally carve out huge chunks of the globe, so eventually a general compromise was agreed on: wars between countries would take the form of ritual combat, the form of which would be agreed on by both parties, or if they failed to reach agreement, by a neutral one.\n\nThe 2219 war between South Korea and the United States was soundly won by South Korea, when the American citizens unwisely agreed to a battle of Starcraft and fell victim to a Zerg rush.\n\nNow another battle between Ukraine and the Russian Empire was about to begin, in the form of a chess competition. The Ukranian champion stepped into the battlefield proudly, and all the eyes turned towards the door from which the Russian champion would emerge.\n\nA collective gasp was heard when a resurrected Garry Kasparov stepped out and proclaimed: \"I have returned to serve my motherland again. The public must be reminded that chess is a violent sport. I have spent a second lifetime analyzing the game of chess, and will now unleash all my fury on my oponent\".\n\nEdit: Korea correction" ]	3
	[WP] A game of Dungeons and Dragons gets a little to serious when Ryan's neighbor Galgamorth the orc shows up and starts criticizing the game for its inaccuracies.	[ "'Alright, roll initiative' Derrick said, turning his ever-watchful eye to the rest of the group. The DM screen acted as barrier from their loud groans and complaints, and the occasional eye-roll. 'Come on, don't give me that. You all wanted to poke the orc with the short stick, now deal with it.'\n\n'Honestly, I find that offensive. I could very well profile all of you pinks as soft lunch meat, but you don't ever see an orc do that. No sir, not us' he paused, 'That's simply uncouth'\n\nSlowly, the players and Derrick turned around to see a freakishly tall green monster - also known as Ryan the Wizard's neighbor, Galgamorth - standing there under the kitchen door. Thank god for tall ceilings, he thought, as a cold drop of sweat ran down his spine. Maybe he should've went with kobolds.\n\n'Gal! What is up!? Are you here to join us?' said Ryan, way too excited. Had he no understanding of social dynamics? What am I saying, of course he didn't - he's the one that invited the freaking ORC to a Dungeons and Dragons game! That's like inviting Anne Frank to play 'hunt the jew'. 'What are you playing today? Human warrior as usual?'\n\n'I don't know, Ryan, why don't you tell me what I should play? Your little fellow over there' he said, pointing at Derrick 'He seems to know a whole of a lot about my kind, like how we hate being poked by pointy sticks. Tell me, all powerful Dungeon Master, what should I play?'\n\n'Uh... Uh... M-maybe we should stop for tonight' Derrick yelped, in a voice a lot similar to that of a little girl getting kicked in the nuts. 'I mean, I don't have much more else planned. You could join us as a Barbarian next week? The party needs some muscle.'\n\n'Oh, I see, so that's all I'm good for, right? Muscle? Brawn?!' Galgamoth started raising his voice 'MAYBE THE GREEN MAN SHOULD STOMP PINK BASTARD, YES?'\n\nThe table fell silent. Ryan's eyes were open with surprise, Derrick was trembling and Janice was staring at her brown shoes. You play Dungeons and Dragons and you think you'd know how to handle an orc, but you don't. \n\n'Just playin, numbnuts! I brought an elven ranger, hope that's okay.' ", "\"Hey guys, this is my new neighbour, the one I was talking about, Galga.\" \nThe small group of thirty-something roleplayers turned their eyes on the new player; a stocky, green-skinned humanoid with a topknot, layered runic tattoos, small upturned tusks and an incongruous pair of wireframe spectacles. \n\"Uh... hey man,\" managed Garth, the DM, \"sweet cosplay?\" he sounded uncertain, \"uh, I think Ryan might have put you wrong dude, this isn't LARP, this is tabletop. Ryan, you wanna show him the bathroom so he can get changed?\" \nThe orc's black eyes widened and green nostrils flared, \n\"Firstly, I'm a woman. Males have much larger tusks. Secondly, I can't take off my skin any more than you can.\" \n\"Woah, OK there dude,\" Garth backed away a couple of steps, \"it's getting all tumblr up in here. If you wanna cosplay a female orc, I'm cool with that bro.\" \nGalgamorth turned to Ryan, \n\"I knew this was a mistake,\" she whispered. \n\"It's cool Galga, just ignore his bullshit for now - he'll come around.\" \nThe orc pulled up a chair, which creaked ominously as she placed her muscled bulk on it. \nOne of the other players sniggered and muttered something about pies. \nA low growl escaped the throat of Galga and the skinny roleplayer had the good grace to look alarmed, then a little frightened. \n\"I can bench four times your body weight,\" she hissed, jabbing a clawed fingernail at him - painted with hello-kitty decals - \"that is, if you weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds, soaking wet.\" \n\"Uh, let's get started,\" Garth looked expectantly at their guest player. In response, she reached into a small pink backpack and produced a character sheet. Garth took it, looked it over, then frowned, \n\"You're playing an elf?\" \nShe stared at the DM, perplexed, \n\"What of it?\" \n\"You're not, uh, playing an orc?\" \n\"Why would I want to play something I already am? Isn't the point of this to get away from reality?\" \nGarth lifted his hands defensively, \n\"OK man, whatever! Let's just get moving.\" \nHe turned a page in his carefully handwritten notes. \n\"The cavern is cold and dank, the rotting smell of an orc midden permeates the air as you pick your way over the scattered bones of their victims.\" \nA disgusted noise issued from Galga's direction. \n\"Excuse me?\" inquired Garth. \nThe orc woman sighed, \n\"My people don't create middens; they discovered sanitation thousands of years ago and dig latrines connected to septic holding areas, which are drained every few months. Also, we don't just toss bones around like wild animals - the bones of our food are composted for calcium to help our crops grow.\" \nRyan elbowed her, but she didn't feel it through her thick green hide. \nGarth and Galga stared at each other for several long seconds before he looked away. \n\"OK fine. The cave smells pleasant and homely. There are no bones on the floor, just the arms and armour of fallen heroes.\" \n\"We recycle.\" \n\"No arms and armour of fallen heroes, just the memory of valiant heroes, who tried to protect the kingdom from the orcish scourge.\" \n\"Actually, we have historically never been the aggressors,\" Galga shot back, \"prejudice and fear have always been the motivators for attacks on my race.\" \nGarth slammed his rulebook shut and overturned his DM shield. \n\"Look man, you're gonna have to leave.\" \nThe orc woman quirked a tattooed brow at Ryan, \n\"I told you so. I knew this would happen.\" \nGarth was standing now. \n\"Bro, you have ten seconds to get out before I throw your fat, tranny, otherkin ass out of here.\" \nRyan winced. \nIt was over in seconds. One minute Garth was poking a pencil at Galga's chest, the next minute he was on the floor, sans arms, his head being thrashed with the wet ends of his own limbs. \n\"Shit,\" whined Ryan, \"I can't take you anywhere.\"" ]	2
	[WP] I cannot explain why I followed her.	[ "It was late friday night and yet again I found myself waiting at a local bus station, waiting for the 6 o'clock bus and as my mind wandered off, I saw her. She was walking around the corner of the street opposite on the one I was on. She as unusually tall and from where I stood, I'd guess she was about 6'3\" without her boots on. She was quite lovely as she was with jet black hair and pale skin which had bordered on albino levels yet as much as she was extremely physically attractive, I knew as soon as I saw her that there was something about her that I couldn't understand yet I felt that it was there. She stopped by the nearby stop sign and she waited, but for what I couldn't say. She stood waiting, looming off in the distance and my gaze turned between her and the clock that hung over me. Time passed yet still she stood there waiting, her eyes far away. A moment or two had passed and out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her turn and leave, her heading down the lower parts of the street she was standing on. As she walked away, I felt a strange and foreign compulsion wash over me and had urged me to follow her wherever it was that she was heading to. Several minutes and blocks after, I was still following her, the urge to walk with her which was already powerful had become overwhelming. We kept up our little walk until she stopped dead center in the middle of the road, her head slightly turning to me.\n\n\"I know that you've been following me since I left the station. \"\n\nSo she knew that I was following her since we both left the bus station? She's either more observant that I took her for or she has more attuned senses, either way had scared me a bit. She kept her head still slightly cocked at me and I could feel her gaze penetrate itself into me as I struggled with her acknowledgment of my following her and to find a reason why I followed her as much as I did. There was something about her that had compelled me beyond reasoning to follow her and searching deep inside, I found no words as to why. \n\n\"Care to explain why you've been following me?\"\n\nHow could I possibly answer that when I myself couldn't understand why? Standing behind her for what seemed like forever, I looked for a reason but all I found was this: I cannot explain why I followed her and she now realized my presence. ", "I stood there at the bus stop just waiting like every other day. That was until I saw her. I don't know whst it was but I looked up and there she was. She looked like an angel. I can't describe how amazing she looked in just her jeans and tank top. \n\nI don't know what it was but I knew I had to follow her. I don't know for how long but I had to. She got on the same bus I was waiting for. I sat a few rows behind her. I didn't want to be creepy. When she got off the bus so did i. I kept my distance but never let her out of my sight. \n\nI've never followed someone before, never had a reason to. Still don't as far as I can tell. I just know I have to follow her. She turns down an alley and I cautiously trail behind her. Then it happens. Two guys come out of the shadows and attack her. At first it looks like she can handle herself, but then I realize why I'm there. I'm to save her. I rush down the alley and sucked punch guy one in the jaw. Guy two turns to me and I kick him in the stomach. Both semi incapacitated. I grab the girl and we take off running. \n\nI take her to the nearest police station and I leave. I was done. I can't explain why I followed her. ", "The first time I saw her was through a mirror. She was doing here makeup in the local bar where I always hang out. Her hair and eyes were pitch black and mesmerizing. Her skin was pale white but here lips were a bright red. She saw me via the mirror and smiled at me. She stood up and started walking away. I just blanked out for ten seconds and snapped back in, what was going on? Did I just imagine this woman? I walked over to the table where I saw her and noticed a black feather on the chair she sat on. It smelled like roses, very strange. \n\nI snapped back in a dark alley. It happened again! I somehow managed to get from the pub to this shady alley without noticing it. I felt in my pockets and found the black feather still in perfect shape. The smell was also just as strong as in the bar. Then suddenly I saw her. My body started walking towards her without my mind being conscious of it. I felt trapped inside my own body. When I almost reached her she dissolved in the air along with the feather in my pocket.\n\nWhat the hell..", "She was standing at the crosswalk digging through her purse. The frazzled look on her face was cute. She was gorgeous in her ripped jeans, flip flops and Van Halen tank top.\n\nWhatever she was looking for was about to get her killed. As she began to walk across the street before it was ok to cross, a car sped through the intersection barely missing her. She screamed as she jumped back, and doubled over, grabbing her knees to catch her breath. \n\nI wanted to walk over to her to see if she was ok; but my legs wouldn't move. I couldn't stop watching her. \n\nShe finally began to walk across the street, and my legs followed. My brain kept telling me to stop but my body wouldn't listen. I cannot explain why I followed her. I just did. \n\nWe walked for what seemed like forever, through some bad parts of the city, and into a small neighborhood where she walked up to a small duplex and began to dig through her purse again. She pulled out her keys an unlocked the door, leaving it slightly ajar as she entered her home. I followed. \n\nI waited until I could hear her upstairs before I entered her house. She was singing to herself. Her voice was beautiful. Mesmerizing. I walked into the kitchen, and opened a few drawers looking for something. What was I looking for? I pulled out a long kitchen knife. \n\nI wasn't sure what I was going to do with the knife as I made my way quietly up the stairs. I could hear her in the shower singing. She was amazing. What was I doing here? My brain kept telling me to stop, just leave. She will never know you were here. But my body wouldn't stop. \n\nI found her room at the end of the hallway and slipped into her closet. What was I going to do? \n\nAbout 10 minutes later she finished her shower and came into the bedroom with her towel wrapped around her waist. Her perky tits bouncing as she sang. She plopped down on her bed on her stomach, and began checking her phone. I watched her for a few minutes as she checked Facebook, her text messages, and checked her dinner reservations for tonight to make sure she still had a table. She had such beautiful long legs. Her arms and back were covered in tattoos. \n\nI wanted to touch them. To run my fingers down her spine, and draw around the edges of the big flower on her back. My brain told me to leave. Leave now and she won't be able to see your face. But my legs made me walk over to her bed. \n\nShe heard the floor creak and rolled over with a gasp. The knife was raised in my left hand and I used my right hand to cover her mouth. \n\n\"Shh.\" I said. \"It will be alright.\" \n\nIt was a lie. What was I going to do? She wasn't going to be alright. I had to end this now. She had seen my face. \n\nI gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek as she lay there screaming under the weight of my body on top of hers. \n\nI had never done this before. She would be my first. She was so beautiful. I wanted to hear her singing again. That would calm me. My heart raced, and my palms were sweaty. I had to do this now, or I would lose my cool. \n\nAs she screamed under my hand and pleaded with me to leave her alone, I slowly lowered the knife to her throat. Such a beautiful throat. So many places to kiss. I pressed the knife into her throat hard, and pulled it across. Blood started to trickle out and I felt my hands moving over it again for another pass. \n\nThis felt so wrong, but it felt so right. I sat there and watched the life drain from her eyes as she bled out all over her bed. I grabbed her phone and pulled up her reservation confirmation email. It was girls night at the local bar. \n\n\"Perfect.\" I said to myself. \n\nMy brain told me to go home, but my legs led me to the bar. I sat there and ordered a beer, waiting until 5pm. I saw her friends sit down at a table. They all wondered where she was. It was her birthday, and they had brought her presents.\n\nI waited until they finally ordered drinks and decided to just wait. I got up from my table, beer in hand, and walked over to them. So many beautiful ladies. I wonder if they could sing too. I needed to hear them sing to calm me. \n\nI cannot explain why I followed her, but she led me to them. \n\n\"Hello ladies.\" I said with a sly smile. \"My name is Henry.\"\n\nMy brain told me to leave. Everyone can see you talking to them. But my legs wouldn't let me. I sat down at the table and began talking to her friends. So many beautiful ladies. They don't even know what's coming... ", "Her dress caught my eye first. As the wind whipped it around her knees, it seemed to glisten gold, then pink, then blue, then gold. The skirt was full but the waist was tight, leading upward to a sleeveless bodice which shimmered black and gold. Her hair was twisted into a messy knot of tight curls at the back of her head, errant locks fluttering across her short, wide nose and high cheekbones. A hand reached up to tuck the escaped curls behind her ear, but the breeze gusted again and they were immediately loose. Her shoulders looked strong, her arms toned with muscle and covered in tiny, soft hairs. \n\nShe stepped onto a train I didn't need to take, but I leaped on anyway, pressing my own bulk into the throng of bodies on the car behind hers. I kept my eyes fixed on her through the connecting doors, watching the sunlight flick over her shoulder blades as we passed breaks in the foliage. The warm light lit up the golden tones in her dark skin, and it was as if she were made of precious metal trapped in iron ore. \n\nAfter two stops, my car had emptied enough that I could make my way to the doors, hopping easily over the moveable mesh between cars and closer to her. By then she had been swayed and rocked to the interior wall, where she stood with her shoulder pressed casually against a glass window. Her car was empty; I wondered why she didn't sit. \n\nI reached out a hand, hoping to tap her on the arm and talk to her, not knowing how I would explain my presence on a train heading the opposite direction of my home; but instead the train lurched to a stop and I was thrown bodily into her. We fell into the large handicap seats, me on top of her and scrabbling for a handhold that wasn't her body so I could lift myself up and apologize. Somehow she got to her feet first, and I was left in the seat, gasping in both fatigue and embarrassment, staring up at her. \n\nHer face was a portrait of disgust for about three seconds, seconds which felt like years and which etched their cruelty into my already fractured pride. But in the fourth second her face softened, and suddenly the darkness in her eyes was only their hue, not their intent, and she was beautiful once again. \n\nI tried to stammer, to breathe, but could do neither in the wake of the vision bent over me. She reached out a hand to help me up, and the contact of our palms and fingers seemed to shock me out of my stupor. \n\nPerhaps even literally. \n\nIn fact, could I even let go of her hand? \n\nSuddenly I realized that my arm was both numb and frozen, trapped in her grip which was so light, so delicate, it didn't seem possible that she had such power over me. She reached out her other hand and brushed gentle fingers over my hip, and suddenly my legs were like lead beams bolted to the floor. I stared at my immobile limbs, struck numb with fright as smiled at me, so unassuming and innocent in her gaze that for one wild, desperate moment, I believed that she was unaware what was happening to me. \n\nHer lips, painted a soft red and the stars of my fantasies only moments earlier, closed over her teeth and her smile became incrementally strained; had I not been staring with such wide eyes, I might not have noticed how they stretched or creased. When they parted again, they revealed not the teeth she had smiled with only seconds earlier, but long, thin, bony needles, protruding by the hundreds from her dark, bloody gums. I tried to open my mouth to scream but found my throat paralyzed and my tongue seized up, curled at the back of my mouth like it was the only part of me that could move farther away from her. \n\nHer lower jaw dropped slowly, stretching past where a human should have been able to open her mouth. She loomed close to my breast and I knew she was going to literally rip my heart from my chest if I didn't move but I couldn't move - I couldn't move - I couldn't - \n\n***\n\nHer dress caught my eye first. As the wind whipped it around her knees, it seemed to shimmer, not gold or pink, but dark red, like it was wet with blood. The skirt was full but heavy, weighted down with liquid, and the tight waist and sleeveless bodice appeared to press and cling to her skin as if coated with something viscous and sticky. Her hair was twisted into a knot and clotted with dried blood. \n\nI cannot explain why I followed her. " ]	5
	[WP] Magic is powered by mana. Mana is 'mined' from the Astral plane by specialized mages, and they're going on strike.	[ "The eerie purple glow that has always surrounded the magical tower grew dim. \n\nMages who were mining the mana from the Astral plane were protesting, and the world panicked.\n\nSecurity, health, survival of the vast majority of the humans and mages depended on mana for the past several decades.\n\nEver since that previously unknown energy has been discovered, and humans realized that it is the only thing in the material universe that responds directly to human thoughts and consciousness, we have been perfecting our craft of mining and manipulating it.\n\nBut now we feel like humanity started taking the efforts of Miners for granted, and we want to show the world what their life would be like without the magic.\n\nNo more medicine, no more energy, no more weapons to fight the creatures that infested our world through the portals scientists and engineers accidentally opened in our first research years.\n\nYes, we need you, but you also need us.\nMana is a renewable resource, but Miners require experience and education to successfully complete our dangerous work.", "\"Scab!\"\n\nThe shout startled me as we walked through the courtyard of Arcanasahn. I turned to see a particularly tall mage wave his staff at me. He face showed the blue tint of one who had worked in the astrals for many years. He was surrounded by other mages and their families, some waved broken staffs, some signs or imbued sigils. \n\n\"You won't last a day!\" \n\"You sick bastards!\" \n\"The High Magus is evil!\"\n\"No more Mana!\"\n\nA guard gave me a hard shove and the shouts became muffled as we were pushed through the doorway into the Grand Hall of Arcanasahn. I could still hear them. Their shouts and chants were indistinct, but blended together to make a low roar that unnerved me.\n\n\"Greedy robeheads.\" The kid beside me muttered.\n\n\"Yeah.\" I offered him a nervous smile.\n\n\"My dad's a rune-marker.\" The Kid obviously wanted to talk, \"Since the strike we don't even have enough money for food. He can't sell anything. It's all those lazy hand-wavers fault. They're killing us with their stupid protest.\"\n\n\"Quiet.\" A guard shoved the kid hard enough to make him stumble. The kid glared back but kept his mouth shut until the guard moved off to rough up another group.\n\n\"Kamil.\" The Kid offered a hand.\n\n\"Jaboc.\" I grasped his and gave it a quick shake. The kid was strong for his age, \"I think we're almost there.\"\n\nOur group had been split off from the rest and we were lead into a smaller side room. A portal stood in the center of it, surrounded by a large amount of storage and processing equipment.\n\n\"Alright, Streaks!\" A burly, ugly man with a chest like a barrel and arms like firewood logs screamed at us from beside the portal, \"Rules are simple. Go in, crack the Acshava Stones for mana, bring it back. No fighting each other. Every case of mana is ten gold. Clear?\"\n\nThere were assorted attempts at saying yes from the group. The overseer didn't seem to care. \n\n\"Go. Now, ya Streaks!\" \n\nMore guards pushing and shoving, the kid was crushed into me as we both passed through the portal together. My eyes... blinked out for a second. For a moment there was nothing but the color blue wherever I looked. Then the blue faded and I saw a very alien landscape. \n\n\"Woah.\" Kamil breathed. \n\nI had to agree. We were on an island, but an island on some sort of mist-gel that rose and curled and broke off into floating blobs. There were other islands, some above, some below. They drifted on a great, sloshing sea of strange matter. Everything was blue or green... mostly someplace in between the colors. There was plant life... sort of. It seemed to be made of the same mist-gel but with tendrils internally giving them shape. \n\n\"Over there!\" One of the others shouted.\n\nWe all turned to look and we saw the Acshava stones. They were floating in a cluster quite a distance away. We would have to find some way across the mist-gel to get there. The group started walking toward the edge of the island and strange things began to happen. A few of the others bounced up higher than the rest, panic coloring their faces.\n\n\"Inconsistent gravity.\" Kamil remarked, \"We could probably jump to the cluster. Here, watch.\"\n\nThe crazy kid took off at a bouncing run before launching himself into the mist-gel. He broke the strange substance apart as he ailed through it, his jump taking him higher and further than should be possible. I saw him pull out his pickaxe and raise it above his head as he neared the stones like some hero from a fireside story, posed to crash down upon the enemy with a mighty blow.\n\nSomething shot through the mist, a mass of dark scales and jagged spikes. It crushed Kamil's body in a might jaw, blood and flesh spraying outward and splashing a great stain of red on the blue world.\n\nCEASE YOUR MURDER\n\nI grabbed my head. The thoughts were inside me. \n\nYOU KILL OUR SPAWN. WE PROTECT IT. CEASE YOUR MURDER\n\nThe group broke up as men and women screamed and ran for the exit portal. I couldn't move. I just watched as more and more of the creature rose up from the mist-gel. It was enormous, as large as a palace. Armored, yet strangely lithe and elegant. Muscles the length of streets moved beneath it's scaled skin. Great fins like iridescent lakes waved languidly, casting mist-gel off in broken waves. \n\nLEAVE. DO NOT RETURN\n\nThe beast flapped one of its massive fins, causing it's massive form to push closer to me, a great, glass eye pushing up and up, closer and closer until it was but three feet in front of me. I could see my own reflection in it.\n\nTELL THEM WE KILL IN RETURN\n\n\"In r-return?\" I found my mouth saying.\n\nRETURN FOR THE EGGS THEY BREAK. THEY TAKE LIFE. WE LEARN. WE TAKE LIFE NOW. TAKE IT FROM YOU.\n\n\"I will tell them.\" I turned and ran. The portal flickered as I approached it. For one horrifying moment I thought they would close it off, leave me in this place with that.... thing. I made a great leap, diving through the portal-\n\n-The world went blue. Then; Color! A sword cut my face and then slammed into the portal. Guards were being beaten to death by three magi with staffs, A guard gutted a young kid right in front of me, ripping his sword through the stomach as he pulled it back. An older mage crashed into me from the side, shoving me into the wall as a Guard came down on both of us. He twisted his staff to block a blade that would have decapitated me. The impact knocked the blade from his hadn, sending it to my feet. \n\nI saw the metal, streaked with blood. The strange words of the other creature echoed in my head. What had been going on all this time? Was this magic, stealing the eggs of some monster? The words had been so angry. I could feel the rage, the pain from losing their children. It wasn't just words, it was their life they put into my head. I could feel the anguish they had. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to run... but more than those... I wanted to kill the men who had told me to break those eggs.\n\nI took the sword and ran for the nearest guard. \n\n\"No more MANA!\"" ]	2
	[WP] A time traveler comes back in time to meet you, someone recorded in his history books, unfortunately his books are very wrong.	[ "I sat at the internet cafe putting the finishing touches on my comment. The long, tiled space hummed moistly with the sound of computers and the rustling of empty food packets. A fan shifted this humid mass from one end of the shop to another. \n\nA gust of air swept in, as the door swished and chimed an abrasive electronic warning. The half-dozing young man behind the counter opened one eye, never removing his head from his hand and said:\n\n\"Mrwh?\"\n\nMy eyes were dry, and i blinked slowly back into the sweaty, yellow light of the cafe. The person who had just come in was already making their way to the computer next to mine. I followed her approach uneasily. She was dressed in a tight-fitting wetsuit. It looked expensive, matte black with a shiny hexagonal patterning along it. With her, wafted in the ozone smell of the street and something else. Flowers? Perfume, maybe.\n\nI swivelled back to the glowing screen. The shitstorm would be of epic proportions, but having spent the better part of an hour crafting the youtube comment i was now firmly committed to this argument. I refreshed the page.\n\nThe woman in the wetsuit turned to me and said something. I ignored it. Weirdos were constantly talking to you here and i felt strongly that the simple fact that we were paying for every minute at our computers must mean that the most considerate thing to do was to just let us make the most of what little money we could spend on internet time.\n\n\"Are you... FagTroll34?\"\n\nI glanced up. For the first time it struck me how strange it was that she was in a wetsuit in the middle of a heatwave. She must be sweating like mad under there. But under her roughly cropped hair her smooth forhead was dry, powdery almost though she wore no make-up. She was right of course, but i couldn't figure how she knew. My FagTroll34 account was strictly for trolling YouTube, not my main account or anything. Was she from the NSA? Interpol? FSB? \n\nStill i said nothing, so in an uncertain voice she went on.\n\n\"I've come... a long way to see you Mr... FagTroll.\"\n\nShe spoke with a crystaline accent, like she had learnt to speak inside of a bone-china teaset. Every time she said my username, she paused. Her large dark eyes glistened with some indescribably emotion. The strength of her feeling made me uncomfortable, made me fidget in my seat. She nodded slightly. A shadow swept accross her brow, and the corners of her lips twitched. She was concentrating.\n\n\"Sir, Mr FagTroll... You must understand. The place i come from, we've been through a great fail and...\"\n\nFamiliar territory: this freak had come in to solicit spare currency to feed WoW or LoL or whatever freemium addiction she'd developped. The nerve. Like we didn't all have some electronic monkey on our back.\n\n\"Sorry, no.\"\n\nShe blinked, surprised.\n\n\"I had been told...\"\n\nShe looked around uncertain. Her lower lip quivered. Finally she looked back to me. Something about her had become hard, tense. Again i felt uneasy.\n\n\"Mr FagTroll. Where i come from there has been an epic fail, horrors beyond imagination, pain beyond measuring, destruction of life, and knowledge and culture and-\"\n\"Really, miss, i'm not interested.\"\n\"-and the Gods saw fit to leave one thing intact. A device by which i might reach you.\"\n\"Yes, a boat? And you need money to what? Call home? Get some funds? You'll pay me back as soon as you have my banking details and personal information?\"\n\"No, FagTroll, it is not money i need from you. The device the Gods left us is a machine which can breach the barriers of time and space, and transport-\"\n\nI didn't have time for this tweaker.\n\n\"A time machine,\" I said, \"You want me to believe you've come here in a time machine?\"\n\"I need you to believe it FagTroll. Bushido demands that you know what has happened.\"\n\"Prove it.\"\n\nHer face didn't change. Not a bit. Without even blinking she brought up her wrist so that a small rectangle sewn into the suit was level with my face. In an instant images flashed before my eyes, broken watelands, white corridors, banners waved by armies, blood-red skies and brown ashy rain. The images were more than just projections from a screen. I knew each scene, each fractured moment. I could hear the whisper of the toxic downpoor, feel the warm fallout against my skin. The moment lasted less than a heartbeat, and then the cafe rushed in dank and oppressive and loud.\n\nFor a minute there was only the chittering of game sounds in headphones, the clickety clicks of mice. I stared at her, and at her device. \n\n\"Now do you see?\"\n\nAll i could do was stare. I couldn't even categorise the tech that i had just experienced. It had been some kind of immersive 3D display. How could it be?\n\n\"I know little about your present, FagTroll, but one thing has been clear to us: you are the key. You are the... fulcrum.\"\n\"I'm... important?\"\n\"FagTroll, upon you rests our future.\"\n\nThe cafe was suddenly very loud. There was a rushing sound in my ears. Someone was breathing very heavily, and this bothered me until i realised it was me. Somehow i knew what she was saying was true. Whatever technology i had just experienced had given me the ... memories of the time she was talking about. The pain and anguish had been real, and i had watched in that instant as generations had been put to the sword, as the survivors had crawled accross the wasteland of twisted tanks and tumerous animals until they ahd found the white corridors, illuminated by unwavering light and the Gods had Spoken...\n\nI blinked and snapped out of the memory. The young woman had been speaking. I hoped not for long.\n\n\"... so when the device awoke it provided my ancestors with a part of the sacred knowledge. The Gods did not see fit to provide us with everything, for our people had sinned. But we had enough, enough to birth new young, to make new anitbiotics and sow new crops. My generation was born. We sharpened our knowledge and we learnt to fight. Outside was still a hard place, and even though our crops failed from the sour earth, year on year we grew enough food to feed ourselves. More than most. We peiced together our past, and we found this place.\"\n\"The cafe?\" I asked.\n\"The Interwebs, FagTroll, the heart of the epic fail. We found records and pored over them, for days and years until... until we found your name. Our crops are failing. Our world is dead. Babies are stillborn, or born with tumors no one in this time has seen before. Our generations grow stupid, supersitious. Humanity is almost at a close... but you could change it all.\"\n\nThe sense of dread growing in my chest was suddenly replaced with elation, awe. I knew it. I was special. A life spent on blogs and video streaming and online games would pay off. Who knew what skill i might bring to this blasted, desolated future? What personal trait i might have acquired that would bring the human race.\n\nI had always known, and so i had poured the contents of my mind onto the online world. Hundreds of thousands of comments, well-researched, with image macros or ragecomics, had shone like a beacon accross time and this... this survivor had found me.\n\nI stood and so did she. My heart swelled with pride as i kicked away the tatty old office chair. We faced each other, and for the first time i noticed she ahd something slung on her back. A dark oblong, and now her hand reached for it.\n\n\"What can i do? How can i help?\" I stammered. \n\n\"FagTroll.\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"You must know, FagTroll.\"\n\nHer hand came back from behind her and it held a thin sword. \n\n\"If you can see what future you have wrought for us, for humanity itself, you must know.\"\n\nThe pain was dull at first, but the grinding realisation washed over me even as my trousers became wet with blood and darkness crawled accross my vision. Her blow had been true, finding my heart in an instant. As life faded from me a puzzled look seemed to marr her pale features. My last, glimmering neurons crawled as they brought her words from my hears to my brain. \n\nI gurgled, finally. It was funny. Killed for being an internet troll. I hadn't destroyed the world. She was still there, even as i died, and it meant only one thing.\n\n\"He's the wrong guy. Shit.\"", "The room had been in a deep silence for quite some time. As Jim continued to sit there in the middle of the circle with the silent robot tied up with him, the group of people in onesies had not moved, except to let a few of them out. They had then gathered in another corner of the room and formed another circle. With shoulders hunched, they stood there for quite some time as well. Jim was not really sure how to take any of this in.\n\nTo start things off, he was not really sure how he had gotten here. The only thing he remembered was standing there next to a robot, which should not exist but did, and then fainting. Jim was not sure how long he had been passed out for, nor what exactly had happened to bring him here. He would have asked the robot behind him what happened, but he was currently paralyzed with fear.\n\nAfter a short while, the group on the other corner walked their way back over to the circle. Breaking apart, the giant circle let the people who left back into their ranks. From the middle of those people, a man of average height stepped forward, wearing a polar bear onesie that covered his face.\n\n“I am Man of Average Height,” the man of average height said, looking at Jim. “You are currently in the room of Red, which is located deep within our home that is within the heart of the Inner. We are the ancient tribe of Animal, surviving on this world since the days before the super beings. We are the only people within the Inner, and possibly the world, who wear the sacrificial onesies of our protecting auras. You, outsider, have just crashed into the Inner an act that has never been seen before. And, to top things off, you are wearing an onesie that has not been seen within the Inner since the days of its foundation. So, we shall ask you again. Who are you, and where did you get that onesie?”\n\nJim was not really sure what to say to that lengthy introduction. He was still a little bit in shock. A harsh kick to his side woke him up a little. “You shall speak when the grand polar has spoken to you,” came the harsh whisper from a man in an owl onesie next to him.\n\n“I-I-I am Jim?” Jim said with uncertainty of whether this was what the man wanted to here. When he made no immediate reaction, Jim slowly continued speaking. “I wa-a-as sent to coll-ec-ec-ect an anci-i-ent artifact in or-r-rder to help save the world. I am not-t-t really sur-ur-ure how I got this onesie.”\n\nMan of Average Height did not say anything for a few seconds after Jim said this. “So, ‘Jim,’” he said having a heard time saying Jim’s name. “You do not know how you got this onesie? Very believable.” Jim was not really sure if he was being sarcastic. “Tell me, what is this artifact you are looking for?”\n\n“The Barnyard?” Jim did not stutter when he said that. How odd.\n\nAt the mention of the Barnyard, a gasp resounded through the room. Then, one by one, all the members of the circle got down onto their knees, their heads bowed. Only Man of Average Height stood standing. “You have spoken of the artifact,” was all he said, before taking a few steps closer to Jim.\n\n“Only members inducted into the grand council of the tribe are allowed to know of it. How can you, an outsider, know of its prescience and even dare to speak of its existence.” Man of Average Height brought his arm up, poised as if to strike Jim. Suddenly then, at that moment, a giant tear ripped open the room. Freezing, Man of Average Height brought his arm back down to his side, before stepping back, unsure of what to do.\n\nAbruptly a woman tumbled into the room, twisting and turning. Ramming straight into Man of Average Height, this new figure knocked him right off his feet. With a small zipping sound, the portal closed itself shut. The room reentered its uncomfortable silence after that, as the woman got up to her feet. Dressed in bulky leather coat, she lifted the goggles off her head, her hair smoking at the edges. “That was exhilarating!” was all she said, before turning to face Jim.\n\nHer face slowly changed from excitement to disappointment. “Damn,” she said, walking in circles around him. “I said you were in a penguin outfit, not a cute moose onesie,” was all she said, before reaching down to untie Jim from his bonds.\n\nWith a groan, Man of Average Height stood up. The rest of the circle still remained on their knees. In shock, he stared at the women as she untied and helped Jim and Robort up onto their feet. Then, he slowly brought himself onto one knee, bowing his head. Meaning, the woman pulled out a small notebook from her coat pocket, scribbling into it. “I also said the room was blue. That’s also wrong.” She then brought her gaze up onto Jim. “Shit,” she muttered again. “I said he had green eyes and tan skin. I couldn’t be further.”\n\nJim was not really sure what to do. His day kept on getting weirder and weirder. He just wanted to go back to his bed.\n\n“Jim,” Man of Average Height said, still on one knee. “Our group had considered the possibility that you could be him. And this event has just confirmed it. You are the one who is destined to lift the world up.”\n\nThe woman turned at what had just been said, before scribbling into her notebook some more. “Gosh darn it, I also said that this event was not prophesied.” Jim continued to stand there, uneasy of what to do or say. Robort had taken it upon himself to circle around the room, scanning everything within it.\n\nThe woman then turned back to Jim, extending her hand. “I am Kappa, world renowned historian of the future age.” Jim warily took it. “I just traveled back in time, in order to challenge some of my critics responses to my recently published book on the day the world turned dark. And it turns out everything they have said is false.”\n\n“It’s a pleasure to meet you then,” Jim replied. “There is a book written on me?”\n\n“Damn, his voice is higher than I said. Yes, but I can’t say anything more about it, sorry,” was all Kappa said, while scribbling some more into her notebook.\n\nMeanwhile, Robort rolled back over to Jim. I HAVE SCANNED THE ROOM, his little screen wrote. WE ARE CURRENTLY LOCATED ON THE 50TH FLOOR OF THE B.A.T BUILDING, SITUATED IN THE CENTER OF THE INNER.\n\nJim started to feel the fainting sensation creep back into his head. He was not really sure what do be done.\n\n“Shit,” Kappa said from a different corner of the room. Jim was not really sure how she had got there. “I also got that fact wrong.”\n\nMeanwhile, the group of people in onesies had all risen from their crouching. Man of Average Height stepped forward, placing his hand on Jim’s shoulder. “I am sorry for speaking so harshly of you early, Grand Moose. I just had to be certain.”\n\n“Sure?” Jim said back to him. Robort continued to remain at his side, while Kappa continued to pace around the room.\n\n“Legend speaks of your arrival,” Man of Average Height continued. “ ‘A man shall come to lift the world up. He will be donned with the ancient garb of our hero, lost to time. With him, a robot shall carry him out of the dust, while the tear will bring her conformation. To the test he will be put, and pass with flying colors. The hunt for the egg.’ That is what the prophecy says, and so it has come true.” Jim was not really sure what to say, so he just nodded his head.\n\t\n“You, Jim, feel from the sky, into the Inner’s annual dance competition, where we usually watch from the shadows. It was there, when the cloud of dust erupted, before we found you being carried out from it by the robot here. Seeing this event happen, we all rushed out from our shadows, wrapping you up in rope and bringing you here. We were not sure what do to.\n\n“But now you have just been confirmed to be the one who is prophesied. The arrival of Kappa has just confirmed that. Please, if you will, follow me. I know this is a lot to take in, but if you are here, then the world if very dark.” At this mention, Kappa could be heard from a different corner of the room muttering, “Shit, got that wrong.”\n\n“We have very little time. Please, come with me to the room of trials,” Man of Average Height finished with. Jim did not really want to go to this room of trails. But he did not really have much of a choice to be honest. That, and Robort had started to nudge him forward, his screen reading WE SHOULD PROBABLY GO.\n****\nAs always, feel free to comment. I love hearing your criticism!" ]	2
	[WP]You are a drug dealer who lives on the streets, runs a bar, and hosts underground fights nightly, but genuinely care for your customers.	[ "\"Its either fuck or be fucked\" Were the last words my father said to me. He took a gun to the head that night. Self inflicted, they said, he's no longer in pain they said, and they were right. \n\nThat was the problem with my dad, I reckon, he was always the one being fucked. He got fucked up by his parents, fucked up by Vietnam and fucked over by my white wine mother who legged it when he kept waking her up with the screams his dreams tortured his mind with.\n\nA counsellor once told me he must have been sick, out of touch with reality, so sick to say something like that to a kid. A nine year old. He was sick, yeah, but he wasn't out of touch with reality. He knew the world like the back of his hand. Knew people like his favourite song. He had seen what truly lies behind the supposedly \"civilized man\" and he didn't fucking like it. \n\nHe was just telling me a harsh truth. A truth to survive in a harsh world. A world of foster parents, care homes, drugs and poverty. To survive in that world you can't be yourself. You just can't. You can't care for people, you can't get attached to people, you can't love people. You have to observe people and put on a mask that you can't ever let slip. You have to become a monster.\n\nThe type of monster that grows in the back of your mind. It starts off small. It is the monster inside you that tells your first girlfriend, your first love, that she needs to fuck other men for money. The Monster that destroys the one you love; that feeds her hunger for love with one hand and dislocates her jaw with the other when she was too scared to get in car with a stranger. The Monster that feeds her candy to keep her in your palm.\n\nBy than, the Monster has grown. It has your mind choke hold. No feelings; no shame no guilt, it drowns out the agony with promises. It promises you every thing you ever wished for and more. It takes the money your first love made when she dies alone in your bathroom. Self inflicted you think, but the monster says just an accident. A casualty. It takes the money and opens a bar. \n\nIt calls the bar \"Girls\". But there are no girls there. Just broken dolls, the monster created. Women he tore apart from the inside out until they forgot who they were and meet his every whim. The Monster makes them remove their clothing, expose their naked, raw bodies to men for money, most of which he takes, while telling them they are being liberated. Simple puppets on a string he holds.\n\nOnce the dolls leave, their heads spawning monsters of their own, the Monster isn't done. He wants to see blood. He tells men to fight. Weak, weak men. Men like his father. Mostly ex veterans, doesn't matter where they toured, or how long for, he takes these shattered men and invites their monsters out to play.\n\nThese people, these poor desperate, broken people, have no idea how the man behind the monster suffers. How he hurts. How hopeless he feels. How it feels to have loved and to know he will never love again. He can't. He can never let the dolls that dance for him know that he sobbed in his car when one of them hung herself. He can't let the men that fight in his basement know how much he wants to save them. He can't let the teenagers who buy candy off him, how much it tears him up to see the holes in their arms.\n\nHe cares, still. Behind the monster is a man broken by what he has become. As much as the monster tried to drown the man he was, he still exists and one day, maybe one day, he will take control. But right now? There is a young boy in his life. A boy who reminds him of himself. Young, scared and hopelessly empathetic. The Monster has plans for him. Because the world has no shortage of weak people who need monsters to keep them in line. Monsters to make more monsters.\n\n", "\"Hold up there Mr. Cronkite. I've got to straighten Ned out.\"\n\n\"Sorry that took so long. Hard to light a bong with one arm am I right? Now I know what you're thinking scratching away with that pen of yours, But its not just about the money. Before Me and Ned found each other that guy had problems. Now he gets high and cleans up the bar. He works out some of that rage downstairs with the other boys. But truly hes better off for it.\"\n\n\"You want to win that Pulitzer or whatever, you write about the system that failed him. Write about the state of affairs in this country that says you need to hire a woman, or a black man, or gives finical breaks for hiring retards and convicts, but ain't no one looking out for all these cats coming back in uniform. See little John over there. Smiling like that cat from the wonderland thing. He hardly swings in the ring. Just gets bloodied up first. Lost a tooth one night and thanked me for it. Susan ain't here tonight but she was wronged by four men in her own crew, they wrote it off, never charged a single man for the wrongs they did to her. Our young men, raping our young women. We don't need to go over there to see evil, we just need to look better here. Hold up, I need to sort this guy out.\"\n\n\"That was Eddy. Moved opium from Afghanistan back to the states on the big DC-Tens. Not all illegal like but for the freaking CIA. Honest truth there. You know along with weed and ketamine I source lithium and mood stabilizers. I do a huge volume in sleeping pills because No one up in this bitch ever sleeps!\"\"\n\n\"Sleep when your dead!\" The bar shouts back.\n\n'You want to write about these people you do it. There are as many stories here as there are faces. But don't forget to write about those faces to. Them pictures are the ones that didn't have the strength to stick it out. No amount of drugs or physical violence would square them with the world. You want to write about me fine. But don't take this place away from these people, for most it's all they got left. I wouldn't even venture to guess how many of these living faces we'd see on that wall if this bar shut down, or if the fights stopped. Hell, I'd lost ten percent to the razor or eating a bullet if I couldn't source weed.\"\n\n\"So write what you want but make sure to protect these patrons as best you can, ain't no one else looking out for them.\"" ]	2
Is there no crime or villains? What do all the Batmans do then? Are you the only villain in this universe? Do you need to try to hide your lack of a secret identity from everyone?	[WP] According to the Multiverse Theory, there is a universe where you are Batman. However, there is also a universe where everyone but you is Batman. What's life like in this universe?	[ "It's hard being different, especially when everyone is fucking Batman of all things\n\nI was born with a defect in my genes, which inevitably led to me, you guessed it not being god damn Batman. In fact my parents where tempted to put me up for adoption but eventually found it in their hearts to let me stay with them. My parents aren't bad people they really did try and hide the fact that I was different, homeschooled, never playing with the other kids, I had a pretty depressing childhood.\n\nIt got even worse in my teenage years, my parents where in a tough spot in money (Someone stole there Crime Stopping spot. Who'd a thought?) So they couldn't afford to home school me. They teach me all the social norms and how the world works, it was a pretty hard concept to grasp at first, but after a few weeks of school I got the jist of it. Now if you couldn't tell already, I was bullied a lot in High School (Bullied NY batman, not something you see everyday huh?) But I got used to it pretty quickly and most of my teenage years where a blur of bullying, depression and drugs.\n\nWhen I left high school I learnt that the 'real world' was a lot harder then school, I became the laughing stock of the town and looked at as if I had a disease or if I was about to nick something any second.\n\nTo put it simply I was Batman's bitch my whole life, I worked for Batman, I was brought up by Batmen, I even fell in love with Batwomen #38282. But no that wasn't the worst part of my life, the worst part was that my parents named me Alfred of all things!\n\n\nThis is my first time writing here so critique would be great :D\n\n", "Standing on a rooftop a solemn man peered over the city skyline, and felt a tap on his shoulder.\n\nAhhmm \"Sir, your 15 minutes for peering over Gotham city are up, other people have to use this too!\"\n\nThe solemn man sighed and started returning to ground level, to take a stroll in Gotham park.\n\nThis wasn't the only Gotham in the world, every city, every country and every nation had been named Gotham, after much civil unrest about everyone imigrating to Gotham, so this was the only solution that could be made.\n\nThe solemn man watched in horror as he saw a poor old lady be mugged by a criminal.\n\nAs he heroicly dashed towards the criminal, taking a boomerang out of his belt he was yet again disappointed to see that a different boomerang flew from the sides of the trees lining the park.\n\nThe man dashed towards the old lady, to claim the fame of saving her.\n\nA masked figure stepped towards from the trees.\n\nAnother one stepped forward from an alleyway.\n\nRustling bushes had been heard, and they all turned round.\n\nYet another masked figure stepped forward from the bushes.\n\nAs their eyes turned towards the rooftops a masked figure jumped down onto a lamp-post gracefully.\n\nFor the most part, as he fell over and screamed that he must have broke his legs.\n\nThe masked figure from the alleyway rushed over and pulled a phone from his belt, and called an ambulance and police.\n\nAfter 10 minutes an ambulance and police car sped up to the scene.\n\nTwo masked figures barelled out of the back of the ambulance and proceeded to lift the masked figure that jumped from the rooftops into the back of the ambulance, and sped away.\n\nAnother masked figure emerged from the squad car and said with a gravelly voice\n\n\"Hello, what appears to be the problem\"\n\nThe masked figure that emerged from the trees said \"We encountered this criminal attempting to steal from this old lady\"\n\nAs the masked man who emerged from the squad car turned to the old lady and asked \"Madam, are you in anyway injure-\"\n\nThe old lady cut him off and said \"I AM BATMAN\"\n\n", "I'm a light sleeper.\n\nDecades of constant vigilance has made me paranoid, hypersensitive to my surroundings.\n\nThe sound of an envelope pushed under the door reaches my sleeping ears. The rough rasping as it clears the frame, the nearly silent swish as it slides across the floor wakes me from my slumber.\n\nI roll over and stare at the envelope, crisp white against the stark grey of the floor. It was time.\n\nOrange, orange, orange...ah...janitor's uniform! Slipped in while I was eating supper, no doubt.\n\nThe door yields to my hand, carelessly left unlocked and unattended. A cart filled with cleaning supplies waits patiently in the corridor beyond, eager to play its part in this masquerade.\n\nSqueek. Squeek. Squeek.\n\nEchos of the ungreased cart wheels join the clatter of boots on iron stairs and the low murmur of dark conversation as I travel the corridors.\n\nHe joins me in the elevator wearing an old-school uniform, deep blue cape over light grey tights emblazoned with a black and yellow logo.\n\n\"I miss Robin.\" \n\nThe sound jolts me out of my introspection as we glide to the surface above. I don't have words for him. Nothing I say will ease the ache, so I let silence fill the space between us, seep into his soul and die in that dark void.\n\nHe gets off on level two, and I continue on to surface, navigating the maze of checkpoints with practiced ease and a fake identity card.\n\nOutside, traffic is light in the predawn hour as the world collectively yawns, scratches its arse, and makes coffee.\n\nThe black Lincoln on the corner is conveniently unlocked, keys tucked in the visor above. The engine gives a throaty rumble as it sucks down the liquified souls of dinosaurs and belches noxious fumes. \n\nI drive around Gotham randomly, enjoying this moment of freedom granted me by the ID of José Manuel clipped to my chest. From Gotham park, I watch golden sunlight spill over the buildings and onto the grimy streets below. It's a good day to be free, to be José Manuel and assume his insignificant, illusionary, life.\n\nThen the envelope is in my hand, unbidden, somehow summoned and opened by their aching need.\n\nThe Dark Council of Gotham has convened...you will find maps...equipment at the address...we trust that you will...\n\nBlah..blah...blah. Pompous, arrogant, needy little boys.\n\nI skim through the empty words until my eyes find what they desire, then read the edict aloud with a cold smile:\n\n...it is therefore our decision that this week you shall assume the identity of Mr. Freeze and begin your villainy posthaste.\n\nOh, yes. It is a good day to be free.\n\n\n---\n\nEdit: too much past tense.", "Gotham is a poorly written joke. There's no break in continuity! Am I the only one that sees the funny side? We all dress the same! I look in the mirror and I see everyone else. Where's the personality in that? WHERE IS THE HUMANITY!\n\nAnd yet - people keep saying that I'm the crazy one! They say I don't belong! But I see through the leather. I know the truth. I know why everyone hides behind their masks. Maybe one day, I'll take the masks off for them! Show them who they really are! Each and every one of them! If they won't let me play Batman, I'll just have to be someone else!\n\nSee - I believe that the good can't exist without the bad. You need it! Both sides. And still no one believes me! But soon they will learn. They'll see! This world is one giant cookie cutter - what they need is a knife! Someone to stir things up! And I'm going to show it to them. Once I reveal everyone's true identity, no one will be the same. Everyone will be different, like me! And this city will become... CHAOS! \n\nHa-he-ha-ha!", "Day 3. Here in the all Batman universe things have finally disintegrated. Because there is no crime, all of the Batmans fight each other. A lot of this is due to boredom, but also due to sexual frustration. Since everyone is also Bruce Wayne, and the only one who isn't Bruce Wayne is me, all of the Bruce Wayne's are angry because their are no women. Apparently this makes them angry and want to simply fight each other.\n\nSome of the Bruce Wayne's have resorted to crimes such as spying on the other Batmans, or stealing the phone records of other Batmans. Some of them even go after those who have murdered the other Batmans, which results in a neverending stream of murdered Caped crusaders. \n\nThe only thing that is good is that being that their is no Alfred or Comissioner Gordon the Batmans are mostly able to kill at will. As of now, no Batman has taken over to become the Supreme Batman, at least here, though there are reports now that there is only one Batman in cities ranging from as large as Paris to as small as Topeka. \n\nThe thing is in this universe is that with only an estimated 6.8 billion Batmans left, it will take decades for their to only be one batman, and even then, my theory is that there will be plenty left because they will simply hide out in the world. \n ", "\"I'm not Batman\"\n\nBatman #2344321 stared coldly at me. That was no surprise. That was pretty much how all Batmen looked at others. Coldly. They were all dead inside, at least somewhat. \n\nI sighed. Trying to find a girlfriend was difficult when everyone in the world was really anti-social on the inside. \"I work alone.\" That was what every Batman said. No matter what, they always seemed to act that way. Even in their secret identities, I could tell that they had problems being in groups.\n\n\"I read the reports. I had always considered it a hoax, someone who was...\" She trailed off. Her tone was rather analytical. At least, until she got to the word. The word that every Batman feared, loathed, and wanted.\n\n\"Happy?\" I finished. She nodded. \n\nIt was oddly true. Most believe that I would be anything but happy. I was the least skilled, dumbest, weakest, and overall worst person on the planet. However, there was something that I could rely on to propagate my happiness. I liked people. I like to talk to them, to hear their hopes, dreams, ideas. \n\nCheryl and I ate for a while. It was nice. She leaned more towards the dark side of the Bat spectrum than the silver side, but I learned a bit about her. She has a Batdog, she never took up a Robin, because she wanted to keep little Batmen away from crime as long as possible. We decided to go out again. It was nice. \n\nI might actually get to make someone smile.\nI might actually get a Batman to laugh. That was always my father's dream. The true Joker's dream. I'll just use a more positive method.", "HHHNGGGHAPPY MMMBIRTHDAY TO NMGYOU, my family sings with their luxurious rasp. Twenty-four birthdays, and I'm still not batman. My six year old brother is batman. My dad is batman. My grandma is batman. Hell, even my second cousin once removed is batman, and I don't even know what that means! But not me, pretty sure I'm the only one who's not batman in this world. \n\n The crime rate has gone up with the population going up. The lack of crime to fight and lack of villains are making batmen everywhere corrupt. Thus, it's a constant struggle between the corrupt batmen and the regular batmen, but it's pretty balanced because if those who aren't corrupt start to defeat those who are, they have less crime to fight, eventually leading to them becoming corrupt. If those who are corrupt defeat those who aren't, however, the resistance of those who aren't is stronger because there's more crime to fight, and every child is born corrupt or pure, depending on the status of their parents. \n\n That's where I come in, I've been trying to develop a 'cure', if you will, that prevents the restlessness that leads to corruption, and eventually get the balance to a point where pure greatly outweighs the corrupt, I don't think I'll ever eliminate all of the corrupt, but that may be for the best, as it gives batmen jobs to keep them busy and put to use. My current cure is in clinical testing on my great uncle, who seems to be extra fidgety lately, I think it's working. It's a mixture of cherry juice, saturated with calcium and potassium, I've found it seems to strengthen batmen, and allow them to be able to resist their negative thoughts more efficiently. \n\n\"So you just... drink it?\" asked my great uncle with his shining rasp. \"Yep, that's it.\" NNGOLP \"Better?\" \"No. I feel... weird.\" \"Weird how?\" \"Just weird I don't know!\" I watch as his face twists and writhes and... uh oh, somebody better call batman!", "I always liked waking up early. You get up before your alarm goes off, make coffee, grab a bagel, and take the stairs to the roof to watch the sun rise. It's the perfect way to start a morning. Now, I sit silently, chewing my bagel, and sipping on my coffee. I like my coffee black. Black as the night. \n\nThe sun peeks over the horizon, taking its time to fill the world with light. My watch chirps. It's 6:00 AM. It's time.\n\nThroughout Gotham City #2186914, all the hung-over townspeople are groaning at their alarms, making their coffee, and setting into their bagels. My bagel is already gone, my coffee on its last drops. I'm ahead of everyone else. It makes me feel good. I'm better at them than something. \n\nI get dressed, in khaki slacks and a red polo, and take the elevator down to my garage to start my commute. My '05 Mercedes looks welcoming in its sleek silver, elegant with the slightest tinge of flashy to it. I get in and pull out onto the street, into a bustling world of morning traffic. A Lamborghini Aventador cuts me off, and I honk my horn. An engine revs behind me as a Ferrari waits for me to get up to speed, and a Maserati passes me on the right. I sigh. My Mercedes seems a lot less flashy now. Along my entire commute, I'm passed and harassed by supercars. \n\nI arrive at my job, clock in, and set about sorting through my boss's mail. A newspaper sits on my desk, and I can't help but glimpse that he's on the front cover receiving a key to the city. I chuckle to myself. The key to the city hasn't been worth much since all 6,000,000 inhabitants got one. All except for me. That makes me special. The telecom buzzes. \"Frank, could I see you in my office, please?\"\n\nAs I enter Mr. Payulinik's office, he dramatically swivels his chair from the window to face me. \"Good morning, Frank.\" he says, but it doesn't seem like a good morning. Mr. Payulinik looks as if he hasn't slept in a week, and his face is covered in fresh bruises. He doesn't like me to point these things out, though. Nobody sleeps in Gotham #2186914, and everyone always has fresh bruises. \n\n\"Good morning, Mr. Payulinik. Sleep well last night?\"\n\n\"Like a bat.\" He chuckles to himself. I force a polite smile, and he continues. \"Did you know that our stock is down this morning? Payulinik Enterprises has dropped .4%, and most of the raise has gone to those bastards at Wilson Enterprises.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Payulinik.\"\n\n\"You're damn right you're sorry. It's likely to come out of everyone's paychecks, including yours. Anyways, I have a press conference in ten minutes, and I need some thick coffee. I need it black. BLACK AS THE NIGHT.\" He coughs a little bit. \"Excuse me. I don't know what that was. Coffee, stat?\" \n\nMr. Payulinik isn't the only one with fresh bruises, though. On my way to get him coffee, I pass Mr. Edmonton's personal assistant, the beautiful Emma Koslosky. \"Good morning, Emma.\" I say cheerfully. \n\n\"Hello, Frank.\" She growls back, before clearing her throat. \"Sorry, I've had a bit of a sore throat recently. \n\n\"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to get Mr. Payulinik his coffee.\" I enter the kitchen and pour him some coffee. Mr. Sanderson from Accounting walks in, and it looks like he had an especially rough night last night. He's still wearing a utility belt. I point it out to him, and he laughs in embarrassment as he pulls it off and stuffs it in his briefcase. I pour Mr. Payulinik's coffee, and return it to him. \n\nThe rest of the day is uneventful. I attend several meetings, flirt with Emma a bit more (trying not to mention the gash which her low-backed dress displays), eat lunch at my desk, and answer phone calls. Finally, five-o-clock hits, and it's time to go home. As I leave, I overhear all my coworkers talking about the crazy parties, fancy galas, and meetings with mafia dons they'll be having tonight. Mr. Payulinik asks me what I'll be doing. I say I'm gonna try to catch up on Game of Thrones. \n\nTraffic is terrible. A sea of supercars extends all the way from Wall down to 38th, where my apartment is. My little silver Mercedes blends in perfectly, and I could pass them all in the bus lane, but I dare not commit even the pettiest crime this close to nightfall. A Batcopter flies overhead, and I note the man in the car next to me is already wearing his cowl. \"Shit.\" I think to myself. \"It has begun.\"\n\nAs I get back to my apartment, the last beams of sunlight drop below the horizon, and the sky lights up with spotlights. Shadowy shapes of bats cover the clouds, and the entire city is illuminated by the searchlights. Two batwings fly past my window, and a few batmobiles are drag-racing on the street below me. I sigh, and turn on Game of Thrones. \n\nMy dinner is dry, as is my soul, and I wash it down with several beers. When I finish the last beer, the sound of batarangs exploding on the street below makes me wish for even more alcohol, so that maybe I can drink myself to sleep. I decide to risk a trip to the liquor store. Grabbing my navy blue overcoat and my .45 handgun for protection, I ride the elevator down to the street and start my walk to the store. \n\nA gang of Batmans sits on the corner, chattering amongst themselves and smoking bat-cigarettes. they seem menacing, but not dangerous. As I approach them, a police-batmobile passes, and they disperse. A batwing passes overhead, searching for crime. As I pass an alleyway, a scruffy-looking Batman in an old blue and grey batsuit scurries up to me, begging for change so he can buy some bat-crack. I say I have nothing, and he starts to get desperate. I flash my revolver at him and say I have nothing, and he seems to get the idea. I continue my walk. \n\nAt the liquor store, there's a young Batman in front of me trying to buy bat-cigarettes. The bat-clerk isn't buying it, and sends him off. When he sees me, he looks slightly less angry to have a customer. \"What can I do for you?\" He growls.\n\n\"I need some beer.\"\n\n\"We don't serve beer here.\"\n\n\"Okay, fine. I need some bat-beer.\"\n\n\"Can I see your bat-ID?\"\n\nI groan, and pull out my wallet. A batman enters the store and stands in line behind me. I show my ID, and the batclerk inspects it. Satisfied, he returns it to me and selects a six-pack of Bat-Budweiser from the fridge behind me. \"That'll be five batdollars.\"\n\nI search my wallet, and pull out the only batmoney I have, a ten batdollar bill. \"Keep the change.\" I say, but the batclerk gives me back five batdollars anyways. I collect my beer and head towards the batdoor. \n\nBehind me, I hear the batman say \"Empty the bat-register into this batbag now!\" I turn around, and he has a bat-grenade in his hand. This is a bat-robbery! Thinking fast, I drop my bat-beer, and duck behind a bat-shelf. The bat-cashier is panicked, trying quickly to open the cash register, but fumbling with the keyboard.\n\nNow's my chance to be someone. \n\nI draw my gun and point it at the bat-robber, yelling \"Disarm that bat-grenade or I WILL shoot!\" \n\nThe bat-robber laughs. \"You wouldn't shoot. No guns? Remember?\" \n\nI fire a warning shot, and the bat-robber panics. \"Get the hell out!\" he yells. \"And you, bat-cashier, give me my bat-money or I'll blow you sky-high!\" \n\nThe time for warning shots is over. The bat-cashier looks scared shitless. The shot I already fired means that countless batmans will soon come running, ready to fight crime, but we don't have time for them. I hold my breath and fire another shot straight through the cowl of the bat-robber. He drops dead, the bat-grenade clattering to the floor. I dive at it and disarm it just before it explodes. \n\nThe bat-police are drawing nearer. I can hear their bat-sirens approaching in the street. Another batman and a batgirl have entered the bat-store to see what the commotion is about. The bat-cashier is openly weeping. I holster my gun and head quickly out the store. The batgirl stops me for just a second, and I realize it's Emma from work. I smile and wink at her. \n\n\"Who... Who are you?\" asks the batman next to her. \n\nI smile even wider. I'm somebody now. I look that batman dead in the eyes and say the words I've always wanted to say. \n\n\"I'm the goddamned Frank.\" \n\nI disappear into the night just as the bat-police arrive. ", "The \"Multiverse Theory\" in its formation created this universe, and I was not too disturbed by it. I was the \"Fountainhead\" of universe creation, entering each new universe created by the possibility of its existence and checking it for errors. It was much like being God.\n\nThe Batman-to-One universe, where everyone is Batman (except you) is really quite an experience. There are so many Batmen, that upon your entering, you are immediately grapple-hooked and beaten. That's because only one Batman is truly Batman, even in this existence of remote possibility.\n\nThe real test was finding the error in it all, therefore destroying it and ending the suffering of less-than-Batmen in the universe. I've killed multitude universe; but I am not God. I am not human, as he is. I could not create a universe, splitting the original creation as possibilities unfold, giving free will to everyone. I could only join each universe and travel in and out of them. I could also destroy them.\n\nThis universe is where fake Batmen lived and suffered, all unknowing they were not the Real Batman, and where you can exist as yourself and not Batman. I saw it as an abomination created out of the minds of Mad Physicists, and God said, \"You must destroy it.\"\n\n\"But first, I must find the error rendering it impossible. . .\"\n\nAnd then it hit me. If Batman entered this universe (which there was the remotest possibility of ever happening), there would be two Real Batmen in the universe according to this universe created by the Multiverse Theory.\n\nThere could only be one.\n\nBang.", "#I am Batman\n\nThe bedside clock radio turns on like it does every morning.\n\n\"It's 6:15 AM, 72 degrees and I am Batman, host of Good Morning Gotham...\"\n\nGroaning I roll over and shut if off. If I don't get up now I will be late. I\ntried setting it earlier so I could choose to snooze if I needed a little extra\ntime to wake up. \n\nBut, it's too annoying to be jolted out of sleep more than once when every\nsingle morning DJ uses the same byline. From the soporific All Things\nConsidered on NPR, through the raging news/talk hosts to the zany comedy\nensembles, all of them repeat it ad nauseum. \"I am Batman\". Indeed. Everybody is\nBatman.\n\nOn the radio and TV it's all Batman, all the time. Investigative reporter Batman.\nTraffic copter Batman. Rock and roll Batman. Classical Batman. And, for all the\nlittle BatTots and BatGirls, it's Batman Elmo. same Bat channel, same Bat time.\n\nBatman at the BatDonalds drive through where I get my egg and cheese BatMuffin.\nBatman on the drive to work in his BatVan, BatTruck and BatMobile. Whipping\naround me, cutting me off. Burning the paint job on my car with the smoking hot\nexhaust from every BatVehicle's jet engine.\n\nBatman on BatCycles (which are just jet engines with handlebars and wheels\nbolted on) pulling over speeders. Batman at the BatTollbooth.\n\nBatman (well, actually, a cute young red headed Batgirl) at the reception desk -\n\"Wayne Enterprises, please hold..\".\n \nMy fat BatBoss, who comes by my desk everyday at eight fifteen to check on me.\nThe trendy young BatMen and BatGirls talking and flirting around the BatCooler.\nThe geeky pasty faced college intern batman at I'm teaching BatProgramming. Well,\nat least when I can keep him from climbing up the outside of the building.\n\nThat's how it is everywhere, all day, everyday.\n\nSigh.\n\nAt least, the only Batman in the shower is the headless bottle of BatCombo\nshampoo and conditioner. Whenever I get a new bottle, I throw the top away. Sure, a\nlittle water gets in. And, if I knock, it over I waste some shampoo. \n\nI just can't stand those blank white eyes. It feels like they are watching me.\nWatching when I soap up with my BatSoap on a rope. Observing me as I shave with\nmy Batarang blade.\n\nIn a world where everyone else is Batman, I should stand out.\n\nI never wear a single item of Bat apparel. Brown wing tip shoes, not black\nBatBoots. A white shirt, red and black striped tie, blue suit jacket and pants;\nnot grey spandex with a Bat emblem. A simple brown leather belt, not a garish\nyellow utility belt.\n\nAnd, never a BatCowl and cape. Just a pair of wire frame glasses.\n\nI look in the mirror and wonder why no one ever notices me.\n\nIt's must the eye glasses, definitely the eye glasses.\n\nI hear a soft cry of distress from many miles away.\n\nI leap into the air as I exchange one suit for another. The one that all Batman\nonly ever see as a red, blue and yellow blur.\n\nThis is a job for..." ]	10
	[WP] Your instrument is haunted.	[ "\"Please, you have to believe me! It must haunted! It's the only possible explanation\"\n\nShe looked at me with suspicious eyes. A nervous tick jolted through her face, but she remained calm and controlled, saying only:\n\n\"I don't care. Play the piece again. There is no such thing as a haunted piano\"\n\nI sighed and looked at the ground. There was no chance the music teacher would believe me. I decided to prove her wrong.\n\nSlowly, I started playing. Note after note, a beautiful rendition of Liebestraum. But it soon made itself felt, first by me, as a small vibration of the keynotes, and quickly the whole piano started shaking and growling, catching the teacher's attention.\n\n\"Quit that nonsense and just play the piece! Why are you doing this?\" - she asked me;\n\n\"It's not me, it's the piano! Look!\"\n\nAs I exclaimed, the whole piano started to levitate, its tail waggling and the notes pouring from the top, in a crazy cacophony that startled me. My teacher, however, was unfazed, and maintained her stern and disapproving look at the piano. She then said:\n\n\"Why can't you do anything right? We had a great life here! Why must you ruin everything, time after time?\"\n\nAs I looked, amazed, the piano seemed to respond, making sounds with the keys I could not interpret. The teacher then continued:\n\n\"Oh, there is no point. This is lost for us now. I'll leave, and I suggest you come with me. As for you\" - she pointed at me - \"You should try finding another teacher. You could actually have a future in music\"\n\nThe teacher suddenly vanished, and the piano soon followed. The air smelled of ozone and old leaves, and I never saw them again.", "Its metal tube, clad in aging leather, perches precariously upon the brazen tripod, defying gravity with the gentle hold of a tiny set screw. It waits the hand of its master, and it is full. Full of pride, its gleaming edges burnished to a dull glow. Full of purpose, pointed fearlessly upward.\n\nAnd full of ghosts.\n\nVast energies bombard its upturned orfice, funneling in the electromagnetic vibrations, blending the arpeggio of long-dead, ancient beings into a single homophony, gathering the disparate strands, too weak for human senses, in a masterpiece of a physicist's crenscendo.\n\nLooking above, it reflects within what appears without. It siphons from the ancient spectres to fill the minds of the impressionable. Its contents are never secured, but it matters little; regardless of its orientation, it always shows us the truths of ages long past.\n\nA sea full of stars.\n\nA sky full of ghosts.", "A rosined bow draws across the strings with its back arched, shivering from the chill of my cold grasp. The chill of the evening air shows itself in the reddened wood as a quiet, wavering sonata is borne by the sorrowful sea. Wistful notes for companions long lost to this island in the mist in the midst of their lives. The songs in their hearts finished prematurely, a chorus effectively silenced forever more, in their stead I must compose and perform this eternal sonata as a solo. \n\nI caress its pitted and cracked surface gently, easing into the overture of this slow, somber song. Its curves and scratches are as familiar to me as my own skin. It cries out a siren song amid groaning complaints. The violin seethes in the salty air, longing for kinder environs that I fear we may never know again. Instead, I imagine that it longs for the day that I might play my last, a day that shall never dawn upon these dark and dreary shores.\n\nWe build towards the climax though it seems just beyond our reach as the arc dashes upon the rocks, never reaching the end of its line. A song without ending, endlessly repeating until it trails off to be resumed at a later date. Bending and groaning, the violin protests violently, increasing its anger with each passing year. It grows frustrated and tired, tormented by the lingering past and the hands that embody it. An instrument haunted by its musician and the music that he plays.\n\n-166", "There is a wolf in the violin.\n\n\nMarie drags her bow against the strings, and hears it again—that growl, staccato thunder overcoming her G note. She sighs, sits her bow down upon the stand, and then holds her violin in front of her. The fingertips of her right hand skim the pin-up girl curve of it. It's a strange condition, having a wolf in the violin. Her mother was livid with the report, gritted her teeth. Ah, that fucking Italian, she had spat out. High quality my ass, oh all the money I spent, I should have just went with the fucking Frenchman...\n\n\n“Why,” Marie asks the violin strings, curiously. She dabs against a string lightly, right over the bridge. The tiny ridges press against her thumb, and her skin comes away cloaked in a fine layer of rosin. “I played you just fine before, didn't I?”\n\n\nThe violin doesn't say anything in reply. She expected as much. Marie puts the violin back up on her shoulder, feels the edge of it clack against her pearl necklace uncomfortably. She doesn't remember a broken bow that used to be the companion of her wolf-ridden Italian violin. She doesn't feel the strange loosening of her bowstrings, as though they are trying to escape.\n\n\n\n.\n\n\n\nDuring breakfast, Marie tries again for the second time. “Maybe it's the bow,” Marie says.\n\n\n“No,” her mom tells her. Marie swallows the bite of pancake (because if she doesn't she'll be speaking with her mouth full and then her mom will become her mother).\n\n\n“Well, when I broke the bow and we got the new one—”\n\n\nHer mom's—no, her mother's—eyes flash. “Yes, yes, the wolf-tone came up. But I \nfucking told you, Marie. It can't be the bow, the professionals have told me. Besides, it's just your G note, isn't it? Just go and practice. The French is coming in a week.”\n\n\nMarie swallows her words, this time: a mumble of the G-note is essential for “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and why do I have to have to have to play the violin? and but really mother it has to be the bow, even if the professionals say...but nothing escapes, because Marie may be young, but she knows which battles to fight, and her mother is too much for her.\n\n\nAfter breakfast, she flits back to her practice room. The broken bow sits upon her case (shiny and supple leather—this was from England). She remembers her carelessness, the accidental snap and the spine of it split into two, parted. She goes to it and holds it carefully. For some reason, she can faintly hear a note of anguish, but it fades as she loosens the bow.\n\n\nAnd then she rips a string out. It's broken after all—there's no other use for it. There never is, for broken things.\n\n\n\n.\n\n\n\nThe wolf has bitten into the C note. Marie rolls her eyes in frustration, takes it out again on the broken bow. Angrily, she pulls at each white string, until her fingers are a little sore. The broken bow has only fifteen strings left, maybe. The rest are either in her lap or in the trash.\n\n\n“Honestly,” she breathes out, but her anger is alleviated a slight by the act. She brushes the silk of her skirt and sighs and goes back to her infected violin, lifting it back up to her chin, spreading her feet apart like her instructor dictated. Her bow sits upon the violin's D string and she immediately winces, but not just because of the wolf-tone that screeches itself out like a war-cry.\n\n\nHer hands pull away from the top—there is a cut along her index finger, where she pressed it against her D string.\n\n\n“Ow,” she whispers, watches a crimson drop trace itself down her white knuckles. It falls to stain the shoulder of her violin, and no matter how hard she tries to rub it off, a faint stain remains, like a lover's eternal promise.\n\n\n\n.\n\n\n\nThe French has come in the mail. There are no wolves in this one, and her bow glides against the strings beautifully, so she can play her Twinkle Twinkle again.\n\n\nShe ends up setting the Italian in her room, propped up on a custom-made glass shelf. At night, when Marie turns off the lights and sighs, curling into her blankets, she thinks she can hear it again—Twinkle Twinkle, but harsh, a wolf-tone on every G.\n\n\nWhen sleep comes to drag her away from the faint melody, it brings a nightmare for the travel price.", "The Piano sat untouched since her father's death, remaining covered in a dusty corner of the living room as if it was a part of him they'd been unwilling to bury. Alice had never played the piano though its music was as sacred to her as any choir song sung in any church. It was her father's instrument and his music, played during moments of her life that made it difficult to even listen to the radio for some distant memory tied through frayed memories to a random tune. \n\nHe'd also been a prankster and the mingling of his music played at inconvenient times always brought a smile to her face once upon a time. Alice remembered when he'd struck out the Flight of the Bumblebee during holidays or a funeral march when they got into trouble. Once, upon returning from a date during her high school years, he went so far as to rig out a speaker system and play O Fortuna until the boy ran home. She'd went without a kiss that night, which was his intentions all along. \n\nNow, she found it easy to break down at the slightest tune. It was maddening, but as much as the piano reminded her of her father, she knew she'd never be able to get rid of it. She had been in one such mood, curling up on the sofa facing a blank television screen, when the piano began to mindlessly ring out. \n\n\"Hello?\" She called out. No one replied. \n\nAlice strained to listen to the tune being played. It was a song by Lizst. One of his Rhapsodies. The more she listened, the better the tune rang out in her memory. It was the Hungarian Rhapsody, a song her father would play when he was in one of his quirky moods. The only problem was that the piano seat was unoccupied and she was home alone. \n\n\"Who's there?\" She asked, feeling foolish to be talking to a piano. \n\nAs scared as she knew she should've been, it was still her father's piano and there was no way she could've been afraid of it. Instead, she basked in the memory until the song was finished. \n\nThen another tune rang out and she recognized it immediately. It was the Entertainer, by Scott Joplin.\n\nShe waited until the song was over before pulling back the dust cover. The piano was as bare as before with no wires or controls possibly allowing for the possibility for it to be anything but haunted. \n\nNext on the playlist was Liebesträume by Lizst. It was a light tune, but one saturated with a honeyed melancholy that made her bring her hands to her face. It was a personal tune ripe with meaning and again one her father would play. \n\nShe wrote down the song titles as they came, intending to document the phenomena or at least understand the riddle. They were sure to have some sort of meaning, even if she couldn't explain how it was happening. \n\nThey came in a string afterwards; Pictures at an Exhibition by Mussorgsky, the Moonlight Sonata and finishing with Edelweiss. She'd watched The Song of Music with her father when she was younger and that song in particular burned in her eyes. \n\n\"I don't understand,\" She said out loud. \n\nThen she looked down at the list that had formed in her hands. \n\nH...E...L...P...M...E...\n\nAlice almost dropped to her knees. She held the paper in her trembling hands, reading the titles over again to be sure. The piano began playing again. This time, it was It's Raining Men. She transcribed each title as they came, her hands still trembling until the piano ran through Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.\n\nShe read through the final song titles, underlining each one. Then reading through the sentence, she shook her head. \n\nHelp me, I'm decomposing...\n\n\"I get it dad,\" She said. \n\nThen she smiled for what felt like the first time in a very long time. " ]	5
	[WP] You are in a nearly empty room. The only other thing in the room besides you is a button. What does it do?	[ "A red button.\n\nDesire, curiosity, wonder.\n\nThese are the emotions I feel while I stare at it.\n\nAll in this room are white walls. No windows, no doors. No light source even, I have no idea how I see anything. I have no shadow. \n\nMy curiosity is strong.\n\nAll my choices are reduced to possibilities.\n\nIf I don't press, will I be let go after long enough? Or will I starve and die?\n\nIf I do press, will it hurt me? Will it hurt someone else? Will it even do anything? Could it lock me in here?\n\nIts a dangerous bet, with no information to rely on to decide.\n\nIt is luck, a guess. A chance at the best, and a chance at the worst.\n\nI fear if I press, I will hurt someone.\n\nI fear if I do not press, I will be hurt.\n\nI decide to wait. I see no change, I am locked within my own mind, within my own thoughts and questions. Will I die here? Will I ever escape?\n\nApproximately a day later, after sleeping, I am tired. But I am still decisive. I am locked with a button of purpose unknown, entrapped to my own unknowing and lack of understanding.\n\nI spend so long thinking about it, I decide to myself I must press it or I may die. \n\nI press the button.\n\nThe room's white walls turn purple, and the button from red turns gray, and the walls display a black box with a number within, a time perhaps? It reads..\n\n59s.", "The entire construction consists merely of a wooden cube extending precisely four inches in all dimensions, topped with a scarlet button. Or at least, that is you initially believe.\n\nIf, you were to give in to her slutty demands to be pushed, perhaps you would see a little more of darling Delilah. Pressed at last, she gives an audible click of long-denied pleasure. Perhaps you would doubt for a moment. Yet nothing else happens.\n\nBe patient. She loves to make you wait. She'll secretly exult in your agitation. Finally, she'll begin. \nWhat a peformance! Delilah is an actress. She understands how to command your attention. She understands that all shows start small.\n\nA thunk, a whirr. A small hole, merely an inch in diameter opens in her side. You almost lose your grip on her, as many lessers have, when a red marble is fired out of the new cavity. It soars through the air, before hitting the wall and falling to the floor, motionless and dead.\n\nIs that the climax? Is the show over, as it has barely begun? You should know Delilah a little better than that, good stranger. Watch how she silently giggles at your confusion.\nAll at once, the stilled spherical performer is joined by countless others. The walls become alive, openings appear like polka dots. Streams of yellow marbles fall, seemingly without end into the room. Please, would you cease evading them? The effect is really rather beautiful, if you stop to look at it.\n\nRelax. If Delilah wanted to harm you, she would have done it already.\n\nThe rolling carpet swells around your feet, never touching you as it sweeps past to their intended destination. Behind you, a tin bucket suspended at eye level. Each and every sphere enters a bucket by a different method. Some simply fall straight in. Some bounce, once, twice before coming to a rest within the metal walls. One ricochets violently past your nose, and you cringe again.\n\nThe bucket is filled, and almost reaches the floor. You bring your hands together to applaud, but stop short when the container is pulled up, quickly ascending on its heavenly path. In its place, a much larger \"marble\" appears. I bet you can scarcely breathe, as the titanium wrecking ball whistles past. \n\nSilence must follow a crescendo. While you choke back the dust swept up from the collision, Delilah bides her time. While your eyes stream, maybe irritated by the air thick with the particles of your home, or overwhelmed by the sheer excellence of her performance, Dee prepares the next act.\n\nWith a showstopper like that, you wonder how she could top it. She answers, with childlike glee.\nFlight. \nA, no, THE red marble glides past, smirking while atop a paper steed. Nestled comfortably between the wings, our star artiste travels in first class accommodation aboard this particular plane. \nYou can watch as five folds carry the production outside into the dawn. Much as it pains me to do so, I shall stay here. My vision is no longer accustomed to the light and I shall have to make do with the show plainly visible in my memory.\n\nI can see as vividly you see the aerial dance. If I had the strength, I'd yell as you do when the plane traces intricate patterns in the sky. I'd almost scream, as you do, when Red tumbles, only to be caught once again by its paper compatriot. I'd gasp, as the vile, heckling, wind buffets and grasps at the heroic duo. And like you, I'd weep as the waltz ends, the pair circling back to the house, and nose dive into that ignoble tunnel home, the chimney. Soot covered smiles cover their faceless faces, as the couple land on the floor, happily entwined in each other. \n\nCome on, come on. Move back now. Give them some room. They've certainly earned it. Oh, you stepped on something? A switch, you say? What could that do, you ask? See for yourself. See the long, piston powered limb slam the air in before you, before ever so gently trending downwards. My eyes close. What's the sense in watching, when I'm too tired to watch? I know this already, it's etched into my mind eternally. \nI hear the push of a button, the creaking limb retract. Delilah is released with a sensual shudder. I don't have to see to know that she's begging to be used once more, and to know that you will use her. Not just once more.\n\nEncore, stranger. Encore." ]	2
	[WP] ELI5 how did you get away with murder.	[ "Hey, stop that now, you're supposed to be brushing your teeth. Yes, all your teeth, even the ones waaaaay in the back. Okay. Good. \n\nNo, Daddy isn't going to come read you a bedtime story tonight, dear. Daddy is having a sleepover. Yeah! He went to see a friend, a special friend. That special friend has been reading stories to Daddy during your naptime. \n\nYou're right, he is supposed to be working during naptime, but sometimes Daddy just gets so tired of working his job, he goes to his special friend's house instead. Mommy saw where he was sleeping using her phone locator and Mommy thought maybe he needed a nice long nap. \n\nYes, I sure did! I tucked him in for a nice long nap along with his special friend. Mommy blew out the pilot light on the furnace, and it let out a lovely little gas that made Daddy and his special friend super sleepy. They are taking a nice long nap now. \n\nOkay, baby, Mommy loves you. Night-night. Sleep tight.", "It was actually a little complicated, but let me see if I can simplify it for a 5 year old.\n\nFirst off was fingerprints. Everyone knows this is a problem when being a criminal, but what I did wasn't melt it off painfully like any other idiot. If you do that, they can match the circles your fingers generate. What I did, was I started with finding a recent funeral, extremely quickly digging the mans body up afterwords, then peeled his skin off. I then prepared it and turned it into a glove, to make it look human while still hiding my print, and as well adding a different one to track them off me.\n\nSecond was alibis. I decided I'd need a friend. I have a friend who looks almost exactly like me. I told him nothing, just that he had to grow his beard back and go to MgRonalds with some other guy. Make a transaction actually too, and the friend got 10% of the money I got. I would then use this to say I wasn't at the river when the murder happened.\n\nThird was murder weapon. They found no weapon despite a stab wound and blunt force to the head for good reason. For the blunt, I had made a nice steak that day. I crushed his skull in with a hit from the bone. To ensure death, used a well cooled icicle to his heart before throwing the target in the river. I later ate the steak after cleaning off the bloody.\n\nFourth was being untrackable to the area. I wore snow shoes, or whatever those flat things eskimos used, ran back to town. Then near town, I broke them up and threw them in a dumpster and returned home.\n\nFifth and finally, to keep all suspicion, I did not kill someone I knew. I was a hired man. I have a very high price, even for a hitman. I am completely untrackable, and this is how I got away with hundreds of murders without a sign looking at me once.\n\n---\n\nNot the most fun prompt, but it was very interesting to work with." ]	2
	[WP]The main character abruptly dies. All other characters and villains stops in surprise. "What now?" Someone asks.	[ "The hero died. ''What now?'' was asked by some. As if the world hinged on his survival, as if the universe depended on his existence. He died, a forgettable and common death, he died of an infected wound after a small skirmish with some small bandits. He died sick and weak in some piss-all village in the middle of nowhere close to the towns of Who-cares and Whatever. Sure there was the ancient prophecy of a great hero that would arise to defeat the Necroking, yet I still sit on my throne. I am the villain, I rule over what the civilized races calls monsters and the living dead. Should I cease to be because some boy with his head full of bravado and naive heroism failed to complete a prophecy? The answer is no. I should not. When they asked ''What now?'' I answered ''The prophecy will be completed.''\n\nPeople think that prophecies are precise and individual, can only be about a single person with a single destiny. That is not true. The prophecy that the so-called hero followed, was that ''A great king shall rise from the forgotten and hated of this world and destroy the forces of evil that holds sway over the lands. He shall be once dead and twice lived, he will come from the line of the kings of old and his reign shall be eternal.'' Sure the boy fulfilled many of the requirements, he was born as the last scion of an ancient line, as was I, he was born amidst poverty and lepers, as was I, and as a child he fell into a river and was resuscitated, making him once dead and twice lived. I achieved that last one differently myself, pays to create a soul-receptacle where you can live if your first body is destroyed. And the evil that holds sway over the land, well the boy-hero thought it was me. The ancient scholar-lich from another age where men were like gods, reason and knowledge ruled the world, etc. It was a more civilized time, before the fall of the great realms to civil strife, plagues and barbaric new iconoclastic religions based on hatred and violent self-flagellation. Perhaps in some manner of speaking he was right, to his people I am evil, for I rule over those things that they see as monsters.\n\nI hold many titles, the Necroking, the High King of the Orcs, the Master of the Kobolds, the Prince of the Goblins, Emperor of the Drow and lord of beasts. Under me they stand with an army, ready to strike back at any force that wants them to vacate the lands where they live. Why anyone would want those lands is a mystery. After the chaos of the Great Fall, where history came crashing down upon the realms of mortals and knowledge faded to monks and eccentrics, the lesser races where hunted by the ''civilized'' races into the most unpleasant parts of the world. To deserts, marshes, steaming jungles and brutal tundras. They were forced to eke out a pathetic excuse for a life in those places, often failing at that. I came to them with the knowledge of a thousand years of study and reason. I aided them all by granting them the knowledge and know-how of living in those brutal areas. I sent out my army of the living dead to protect them, and one by one I became the ruler of every one of them.\n\nA singular ruler over such a vast nation, multi-racial and armed with the vast knowledge of the technologies from the past, of course the civilized races saw me as evil. Yet who is the most evil, he who protects the weak by extending his life beyond nature, he who feeds them and cures them of ailments? Or is it the ones who comes screaming in the night, burning villages and slaughtering children just because they are not like the attackers, just because they wont cast aside their ancient traditions to become thralls of the clergy? Is it the man who unifies nations under a single banner to protect them, or is it squabbling kings and lords who seek only to gain power over those who cannot fight back? I do what I want, and what I want is to protect the weak, and because they will not stop fighting me, then for the good of me and the people I have decided to protect, I will conquer the lands of the civilized races. I will destroy the evil feudal lords who rule like despotic tyrants over their own people, and who condone the slaughter of the lesser races.\n\nIf the hero was supposed to lead the civilized races into a new glorious age of peace and prosperity where they would rule supreme, then I shall lead those outcasts and exiled to gain their rightful place in the world, I shall cast down the petty kings and break them upon rocks, I shall destroy their bloodthirsty faith and replace it with the worship of the gods of old. Until then, I shall never rest nor cease to work towards that. A villain is but a hero of another story, and since the hero of this tale died, I shall take his place.", "A blow to the stomach, and a collapse at the legs. The floor pattern looks so much nicer when you're focusing on it as a means of regaining your breath. The design really hits home in that situation. Now all I had to do was wait this out. \"You've got a gun against my head, and all you can do is talk about...\"\n\n\"...No, Mr. Calloway,\" answered back Lionel. And what shocked me the most was how prominent the main vein upon his forehead appeared. It throbbed with each syllable. The barrel stared me down as he continued. Something about the way it swayed with his hand, as if he was too confident with himself. \"The talking is the important part. You see, I find this particular cliché suits my personality. I've tried this kind of thing more times than you can imagine. It was hard at first, but, eventually, it became second nature. The monologue isn't really important. What's important is that I tell you exactly what will happen so as to leave you with nothing but regret. Regret for...\n\nA slip of the finger, a bullet through Mr. Calloway's head, and now a splatter of blood stretched seventeen feet opposite the gushing wound.\n\n\"Oh shit.\" Lionel played the scenario through his head an infinite amount of times, but it only took seconds for him to rejoin reality.\n\n\"What the fuck?\" Calloway's best man lingered on the side of the room, his broken leg becoming less important in his mind, as he noticed the life slumping out of his lifelong friend. \"You fucking piece of shit!\" His screams began to fill up the room as Lionel pointed his empty-handed index finger in the direction of what he decided were uncalled for cries of pain.\n\n\"Listen, I didn't mean that, man. Um... I think it has something to do with my medication this morning.\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah? Fucking excuse of the century!\"\n\n\"Claude, please don't take this personally. You'll get out of here in one piece, I assure you. Just...just stay calm until I get this sorted out.\" Lionel's brow pushed sweat, drop after drop, over the sides of his face. His neck stiffened, his jaw tight.\n\nIgnoring Claude's shouting, Lionel scurried into the next room. His trembling hand began a scavenge through the medicine cabinet. Wrong bottle. Too big. Not the right prescription. It seemed to be misplaced. Until he looked down, and there he saw it - his 30 pill prescription for Percocet. A fitting remedy to his recent tonsillectomy.\n\nOn his way back into the living room, Claude appeared broken. Despite being a difficultly broken man, Lionel knew he would never get over such a traumatic experience. But, luckily, at least in his eyes, Lionel just needed to explain his mistake, a simple utterance of words would be enough to clear his conscience.\n\n\"Claude, you already know I give my sincerest regards. This is not how I planned this out. But let me explain quickly, and I'll have you on your way.\"\n\n\"You think that'll do any good?\" Claude began to rise from his knees. \"You think you can be forgiven?!\" He pushed the bodyguard clutching his arm away in a flash, and before he knew it, Lionel was pinned to the ground, a knife against his neck.\n\nBarely unable to scrape up a word, Lionel whispered, \"Listen, listen, listen. My prescription bottle had confusing and, achem, tiny-printed instructions.\"\n\n\"Is this how your excuse is actually starting out? Cuz I assure you it will end with you choking on your own blood the second you finish your spiel.\" Claude pressed the knife into the side of Lionel's neck, a drip leaving the point of contact between the sharp edge and his soft exterior.\n\n\"No, please, I swear it's not something to get this riled up over.\" More pressure.\n\"The bottle says take one every 4 to 6 hours. I think I took more than I needed. The prescription said 175 mg per pill.\"\n\nClaude stared at him. His pupils dilated as his face filled up with red. \"You wouldn't.\"\n\n\"I took 2 within an unhealthy span. Right before you two were brought here. And none of this would've happened if my dose...\"\n\n\"Lionel, expect to have your guts removed one by one by my teeth if you even dare to...\"\n\n\"...if my dose this morning wasn't...\"\n\n\"Don't...\"\n\n\"...wasn't...\"\n\n\"DON'T YOU FUCKING SAY IT LIONEL!\"\n\n\"...tree fiddy.\" " ]	2
The evil corporation could be whatever - the spy could be any famous or non famous spy or sneaky type (James bond, Sam Fisher, Solid Snake, Agent 47 - whatever.) Make up your own spy and corporation if you wish. Your protagonist should wake up after the evil plan has been foiled/the big item has been stolen/whatever plan the spy had has been fulfilled. What is the fallout that the now awake goon witnesses?	[WP] You are a generic hired goon for an evil corporation, knocked unconscious by a Spy infiltrating the compound. You awake after everything has gone down - what happens?	[ "I can hear the alarms. I can smell the smoke. Things weren't suppose to go this way. \n\nA few hours earlier, we were celebrating the death of a notorious spy. As the mook of the month, I had the honor of watching a helpless Mr. Bont die a slow death by laser up the crotch. It almost ended up in disaster when he produced a penny from his pocket, flipped it at the laserbeam and split the laser into four, destroying all his restraints. Earlier, we searched his body for all his fancy gadgets, but our resident dumbass, Chad, thought it fitting to leave a tip for the upcoming entertainment. I heard my boss yell: \"stop him, he's suppose to die!\" Luckily enough, a co-worker named Homer stepped up and tackled the British Spy. Too bad the poor guy won't be able to get a bonus for that little feat from Mr. Scorpio. \n\nSeveral yards away, I can see our boss scattering the intruders by using his flame thrower. His megalomaniac laughter brought courage to my heart and I pulled myself up. We couldn't let them win. I had sacrificed much to help make Globex a threat to the world and I couldn't imagine doing it all over again with another corporation. I needed Mr. Scorpio. He's the best boss I've ever had.\n\nThrough the falling debris, I jogged towards him. \"Mr. Scorpio! Mr. Scorpio!\" He turned to me with those large unblinking eyes; his flame thrower still lit. \"What is it? Ashley? It's Hank! I'm a little busy here.\" He quickly turned around and spewed more flames towards the ceiling, where more of the intruders were attempting to rope down. I replied, \"Sir, er, Hank, we need you to get to the escape pods. We can start over somewhere under the Pacific or Antarctica, but we need you alive. We can't start over without you. \" He pondered for a second, \"You're right. I can make that Tsunami weapon I've always dreamed about! Plus, you wouldn't have these guys dropping down from the ceiling. Great thinking! Let's hurry on out of here.\" \n\nFive minutes later we sat in one of the few remaining escape rockets. As I took off my cap and put on my helmet, Mr. Scorpio turned around \"This is wonderful. Globex goes underwater! I can mine the uranium from the seawater! We can create a new corporate town called Coral Hills. Ashley, you're going to get a raise. How would you like to own the Denver Broncos?\" I smiled, \"thank you sir, er Hank, but I think we should make our escape first. Plus, I don't deserve such a reward.\" He had a huge grin on his face, \"Good thinking. Actually, I know who wanted a football team and deserves one! Well, I'll think of something for you, but first, get ready.\" Moments later, he pressed the launch button, then we flew away.\n\n\n", "I woke up when the cleaning robot tried to move my body, it's massive broom pushed me into a doorway, smacking my head against the frame.\n\n\"Uglf.\" I cried and grabbed the broom and pushed it back. The robot's wheels spun in frustration as it tried to compensate for the force of my push. I twisted the cleaning implement and heard the bot fall over.\n\nIt took me a long time to get up. Whatever had hit me had done a good job. My ribs were broken, my right arm was useless, and it felt like I had a boot imprint on the back of my head. I was having trouble seeing straight, the world seemed a little wobbly and my eyes kept tearing up from the pain. \n\nI wiped my eyes with my good hand, squeezing them shut and leaning my shoulder against the metal bulkheads. When I opened them again I got my first good look at the devastation. Bodies littered the hallway in front of me, with cleaning bots slowly pushing them into storage closets. Some of the doorways were jammed with bodies, blood and other things telling the story of where each corpse had come from. I fought the urge to wretch as vomiting with broken ribs was bound to be painful. I turned my back and laid my forehead on the cold steel of the wall. There was a guide marker on it, giving the color and number codes for what level and area I was in.\n\nThe medical bay was just down the hall. I turned slowly, still leaning on the metal, and stumbled over the bloody trails one step at a time.\n\nFour hours later I was more or less patched up. There were benefits to being employed by a mad genius. He had amazing robotic servants for every type of task. The medical bot was one of his best. I'd barely sat down on the bed before it had injected me with some wonderful drug that knocked me out for all the stitching and cutting and other things I don't want to think about. The point is, that when I woke up I was bandaged, drugged and feeling capable enough to find out what the hell had happened. \n\nThat meant finding my boss, which meant searching through closets full of corpses. Bottom line, it was gross. I never really liked any of the other henchmen, so I didn't care that they were dead, but there was so much stuff that was just slimy and disgusting that I had to take frequent breaks.\n\nEventually, I hit the jackpot. I found Commander Pain slumped under a broke crate of death ray guns. His black mask was broken on the side, showing a poorly trimmed beard and an empty eye socket. Why not just wear an eye patch? Whatever. \n\nAfter grabbing his key card I made my way to the elevator. It still worked, thank god. The trip to the top of a volcano lair takes a bit of time, especially with all the checkpoints. The key card, and Commander Pain's broken mask got me through enough to reach main security.\n\nI sat. I watched. Eight hours of video surveillance. One long, crazy battle as some super-agent stormed the place and took on hundreds of guards, got captured, escaped, then took out hundreds more. I watched him knock me out in a flying kick, then roll and toss another henchman on top of me. He grabbed my gun and killed three more men, then took off down a side hallway. \n\nThe final confrontation was epic. He killed men by the dozens with a mechanical crane, knocking them into the lava flow while Lord Zerious fought to reach him in his Atomic Mech. The two threw jeeps and planes at each other, tearing parts of the volcano out in their struggle, causing lava to poor down into the entire southern wing of the complex.\n\nEventually, the agent lured Zerious onto a metal walkway, then smashed the supports with his crane, sending the big boss and a hundred of his men to a burning death. \n\nNot gonna lie, I kinda felt like clapping. The guy was an asshole. Hell, this entire island was full of assholes. I don't know how I ended up doing this, what wrong turn I made in life but maybe that super agent dude knew I wasn't like the rest. Maybe that's why I was left alive.\n\nHere I am, the only guy left alive on a volcano base with a private jet, a dozen missile launchers, more guns then half the middle east and a robot servant for anything I would ever need.\n\nOh, and dead bodies. I got lots of those. For now, at least. I told the cleaning bots to toss them into the lava. They've been at it for almost two hours now. How many goddamned henchmen did Zerious need?\n\nHere's where it goes a little strange, though. I don't know what to do with all of this. I can do anything, but all I feel like doing is sitting here eatinc ice cream and watching the bot shove bodies into the burning pit. I don't want to launch nukes at people or send robot assassins after the president of Paraguay... but I could. It's a weird feeling. Like, I almost feel guilty for not being an evil sonofabitch. All those dead bastards worked so hard to get all this stuff and I'm not even going to use it.\n\nWell, whatever. There's enough food here to last a good ten years. I got plenty of time to think about it. Hell, maybe I'll just make a surfboard and hang on the beach. The bastards never let me do that before. \n\nYeah. That sounds good. \n\nI wonder if I can make some robots to surf with me." ]	2
	[WP] Tell me a story using only song lyrics.	[ "I found him by the railroad tracks this morning, I could see that he was nearly dead. \"Come and sit down beside me an hear my sad story. I am shot in the breast and I'm dying today.\" I knelt down beside him and listened just to hear the words the dying fellow said.\n\n\"Ten years ago, on a cold, dark night someone was killed neath the town hall light:\n\nIn my hand I hold a picture of the old home far away. I'm riding on the cotton belt rail road line as she glides along the woodland through the fields and by the shore. I rambled north and I rambled east, then I thought of Oxnard just north of LA, where I picked strawberries for many a day, hard work with no future for the harvest was done, so I headed eastward a travellin by thumb. Drifted on down into no mans land across the river called the rio grande. \n\nThe hot sun was setting, and the streets of Laredo grew cold as the clay. In this town there lived an outlaw by the name of Texas Red, many men had tried to take him and as many men were dead. I did it all for the money and fame. We drew our guns and he fell with a thud. I took off running into the south lands. I made a good run but I run too slow, they overtook me down in Juarez Mexico. There in the courtroom, the whole town was there. The judge said 'son, what is you're alibi? if you were somewhere else, then you wont have to die. Explain to the courtroom what went through your mind and we'll as the jury what verdict they find.' I begged their forgiveness and wished I was dead. I know had it coming. I know I can't be free. Im stuck in folsom prison and thats what tortures me.\n\nFor ten long years Ive paid for what I'd done. I am thinking tonight of my blue eyes. No I never got over those blue eyes, I see them everywhere. I believe my steps are growing wearier each day, but I've got another journey on my mind. I'm gonna break my rusty cage and run. I've just got fourteen dollars but I'm takin' it myself home tonight.\n\nThe old gun fighter sat on the porch and stared into the sun. He was an Arizona ranger. He decides who to free and who to blame. The swiftness of the ranger is still talked about today and I heard as it were, a noise like thunder. A bullet fairly ripped, and the ranger's aim was deadly with the big iron on his hip.\n\nI was trying to get back to louisiana, to see my rose and get to know my son. But I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong. Mister here's the bag with all my money, it won't last them long the way it goes. Then go write a letter to my grey haired mother. Tell her the cowboy she loved has gone.\"\n\nThese words came low and mournfully from the pallid lips of a youth who lay on the bloody ground at the close of day.\n\n\"Goodbye my little bonnie blue eyes. I will meet you on the far side banks of Jordan. There's that old oak tree that I used to play on. There to meet me is my mama and my papa and we'll ride together to kingdom come. \"\n\nHis voice failed there. We took the young cowboy into the green valley and we buried him there on the lone prairie.\n\nThe cowboy's lady is crying tonight for her cowboy is out on the range.\n\n\n\n\nAll written from classic country lyrics, mostly Johnny Cash and The Carter Family.", "We were both young when I first saw you,\nI close my eyes and the flashback starts:\n\nNever mind I find someone like you, walking down the streets with you and your worn out jeans.\nYou've got a smile that could light up this whole town, the playful conversation starts, God damn, you're beautiful.\nI have never felt thunder, thunder and lightning like this, I have never been struck by a wonder like this.\nYes I'm swept off my feet, my heart skips a beat.\nAll I can say is it was enchanting to meet you, take my hand for I can't help falling in love with you.\n\nBy the time that it was dark, you and me had something\nand we danced all night to the best song ever and I will remember how you kissed me under the lamppost back on sixth street, keeping you deep within my soul.\nI remember when time was frozen, what seemed forever was just a moment. In the moment, we're ten feet tall, we're lost and found and if this is what we've got then what we've got is gold.\nI remember it all too well, how you told me afterwards we'd remember tonight for the rest of our lives.\n\nI was praying that you and me might end up together, it's such a shame for us to part. I wish that you were here with me, but we're stuck where we are and it's so hard, you're so far. This long distance is killing me.\nAt night when the stars light on my room I sit by myself talking to the moon, tryin' to get to you, in hopes you're on the other side talking to me too. Oh, am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?\n\nI'm sending postcards from my heart, with love for a postmark and I tell you how it is I really feel for you. I can't keep it to myself, can't spell it any better, I don't care who sees what I've said or if the whole world knows what's in my head.\nI'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue. I'd go crawling down the avenue. No there's nothing that I wouldn't do to make you feel my love.\n\nIn my head, in my dreams I talk to you, you talk to me, every day when I wake - maybe you can guess - it's heartbreak, 'cause the very thing that makes you, will be the thing that breaks you. And I can't make you love me if you don't, you can't make your heart feel something that it won't. So now you're gone and I'm haunted and I bet you're just fine, did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?\n\nYou touched my heart you touched my soul, you changed my life and all my goals and love is blind and that I knew when my heart was blinded by you. And I love you I swear that's true.\n\nI'd never wanna see you unhappy, oh, and if you find someone that doesn't undermind you. If you find someone that doesn't drag behind you. If you find someone that loves you just like I do, you've found the one you love.\n\nThis is the hardest story that I've ever told, no hope or love or glory. \n\nNo Happy Ending." ]	2
Make it as awkward as possible. Edit: Bonus points if you can tie it into /u/DaiTuong's prompt: [A bank robber finds a girl he took hostage cute and shyly asks her out on a date.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/39wq98/wp_a_bank_robber_finds_a_girl_he_took_hostage/)	[WP] You're a lonely person, looking for any group activity to use as a mixer. By some stroke of luck, you and several others are currently being held hostage during a bank robbery.	[ "Everybody sat hunched on the floor, staring at the ground. From the next room the robbers could be heard rummaging through desk drawers and speaking in low tones.\n\nI looked around and spotted a guy wearing a Firefly t-shirt. Great! I'd been looking for some fellow geeks to jive with in my new city.\n\npsssst\n\nEveryone looked up at me, wide-eyed. I made eye contact with Firefly dude.\n\n\"Hey! You free this weekend to watch Serenity? It's been a while since I've seen it.\"\n\nI smiled at him to show just how friendly and approachable I am.\n\nThe wide-eyed stares shifted between him and me.\n\nHe stared blankly at me.\n\n\"E-excuse me?\"\n\n\"I just mean when this is all over, you should come over to my place and we can order pizza and watch Serenity on Saturday night,\" I looked around at the others. \"You guys are also welcome to come, I just noticed his shirt and thought he might be into it.\"\n\n\"Oh! My shirt,\" the guy said. \"Uhm, I...what?\"\n\n\"Oh! Sorry, my name's Steve, I just moved to town a couple weeks ago and I'm still making friends. Figured since we have something in common you might wanna...hang out sometime?\"\n\nI smiled again, broadly and enthusiastically. It was a winning smile, my mother always said.\n\nThe silence hung in the air and I began to doubt whether I had made a good decision.\n\n\"Or...not, that's cool too, nice meeting you and all. Hope you have a good weekend! Weather's supposed to be spectacular on Sunday.\"\n\nI returned my gaze to the floor, feeling many sets of eyes boring into my skull.\n\nMaybe I should try meetup, I thought. ", "\"Hey\" he said out of the side of his mouth\" I'm Rob.\" \n\n\"What?\" she shot back at him in a hushed voice, \"All of us are being robbed here asshole, not just you.\" \n\nThere was a pause. \n\n\"No, no. Like, my name is Rob, nice to meet you.\" \n\nShe shot him a look. \n\n\"I would shake your hand but...\" Rob lifts up his zip-tied hands and shakes them, as if to point out that they were zip tied. \n\n\"Yeah I got it. Please shut up.\" \n\nThere was yelling from the other side of the counter behind which they were being held. \n\n\"Hey, that's not very polite. I am just trying to make small talk.\" \n\n\"While our lives are in danger? I don't think it's rude of me to expect you to be quiet!\" she was still keeping her voice hushed.\n\n\"I mean, can I at least get your name?\" Rob inquired.\n\n\"Valerie. My name is Valerie, now please be quiet.\"\n\nThe quiet lasted for a few seconds before Rob spoke up again.\n\n\"So do you work in the area?\"\n\n\"Look,\" Valerie turned to Rob best she could, \"You seem like a nice guy Rob, but I really really don't want to get fucking shot right now, so if you could stop asking me stupid fucking questions I would really appreciate it.\"\n\n\"HEY!\" A third voice interjected. \"Are you talking back here? I said keep quiet or I was going to blow one of your heads off!\" A lanky man swaggers into the room holding a small automatic looking gun. \n\n\"Was it you talking?\" the lanky man pointed the gun at Valerie. \n\n\"No! No! I swear! I didn't say anything!\" she pleaded.\n\n\"She really didn't\" spoke up another one of the hostages, \"this guy over here kept asking annoying questions!\" \n\n\"Well, I hardly think that's fair.\" retorted Rob. \"I am just trying to meet new pe-\" \n\nHe was interrupted by a gunshot and the sound of plaster hitting the ground. The gunman had shot the wall. That was followed by the sound of breaking windows and a few more loud bangs. It seems the police took that as their cue to stop the whole event. The gunman's body hit the floor with a thud a few feet away from the zip tied hostages. \n\n\"So, maybe we can get dinner sometime.\" said Rob. \n", "I had heard of robberies around the city happening a lot in the news recently, and everyone had been warned to keep everything safely under lock and key, but who would be stupid enough to rob this bank? They were known pretty far and wide for having insanely tight security, but because of that they held onto most of the cash. Especially now, with crime spreading like wildfire. The riots got a bit out of control after another police brutality, and I had kept up with the news a lot online. I said my piece a lot on some forums and articles about it all, but I didn’t dare take part in the protests. I had no real friends for “backup” in case things got violent. No, no, people were not my strong suit at all. Knowing me, I’d show up to protest and end up another casualty on top of the five so far just by pissing off the wrong person. Well, regardless, here I was with a half a dozen others, stuck in an office in front of the vault, guarded by a man with what looked like some serious guns. On top of those muscles, he had some kind of assault rifle too.\n\nWe had been shut in for twenty minutes, according to the clock on the wall. No one had said a word. A man and what looked to be his wife were holding hands about as tightly as anyone could without losing some fingers, and one of the tellers was leaning against the desk, her face still blotchy and wet from sobbing. I thought about approaching her, but now probably wasn’t the time. Even with my mess of a social radar, I knew that. I did another quick sweep of my fellow officemates, and noticed that one of the men that looked about my age, mid twenties, was pacing. It was the most movement any of us had made since we were so rudely ushered in here and told at gunpoint to stay quiet. He looked up at the pasty white ceiling, and let out such a shaky sigh that it sounded like his lungs could have swapped places. I figured now was my shot. Time to turn up the charm.\n\n“Hey, man, it’s uh, it’s going to be alright.” At least, that’s what I meant to say. The words came out of my throat, but I’m not sure they made it past my lips. It was as close to incoherent as I could reach. I had his attention though, thanks to my awkward eye contact as I mumbled.\n\n“You alright there? You look like you’re gonna hurl,” he said, almost reaching out to me. It didn’t seem like he wanted to touch me though, or even come close. Perfect. I was totally going for the “sickly and frail” kind of vibe. We didn’t have any sort of trash bin in the room, so I turned to the guard to tell him that I might be vomiting any second, but all that came out of my mouth this time was a swirling spew of what must have been my lunch. The look on Mr. Gun’s face was utter disgust, and I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head. As everything went black, I heard a small slosh and felt my face hit the chunky floor. It must have been an hour or two before the cops came in and I regained a bit of consciousness. Apparently, they thought it was alright to let news cameras in. Since then, I’ve been known as the “Blacked Out Barfer” all around town. So much for that social life of mine.", "\"I just saying. You need to find boyfriend. Get husband!\"\n\n\"Geez, ma. I'm doing just fine on my own. Besides, I'm not interested in anyone-\"\n\n\"You want to die fat and alone like your auntie?!\"\n\n\"Auntie was clinically insane! No one would've married here anyway!\"\n\n\"Excuses. Excuses. Find boyfriend by Christmas Eve or don't come home at all!\"\n\n\"No, ma! Don't hang u-\"\n\nIt was a hot summer's day. The sky was drenched with its humid vapor, smelly to the nose. Citygoers walked around aimlessly on the concrete streets of Abertown. Bus-riders languished in the heat of the automobiles.\n\nHong stared at her cell-phone, letting out a deep sigh as she stepped out of car and climbed the steps into the bank. Her paycheck from the coffee-shop had just been delivered this morning. She had been hoping to go out this quiet day, buying some groceries and hitting up the local bar later that night.\n\nAs she walked up to the stairs, she found herself slamming face-first into the the chest of a much taller male. A van behind him roared like a horse as two other men came walking to the back of it, fumbling around as metal and plastic smashed in the trunk.\n\n\"Hey, watch where you're going!\"\n\n\"Huh? Is someone there?\"\n\n\"I swear to god, if you make a short joke-\"\n\n\"Oh,\" said the man with the paper bag around his head. \"I didn't see you down there.\"\n\n\"Well screw you too, ass.\"\n\n\"Whatever!\"\n\nBefore Hong's thoughts could wander over that strange conversation, she found herself returning to her plans for later that day. Her mother was right after all, she was a particularly lonely woman for a girl as good-looking and sociable as herself (at least, that's how she described herself).\n\nPerhaps, I'll find a man at the bar later today, she thought to herself and walked up to the teller's queue.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Well shit, this really got out of hand,\" Hong said as a bullet discharged right next to her forehead.\n\n\"Oh my god, please don't shoot me! I have a wife and two kids!\" shouted the man sitting right next to her as the man with a bag pointed a tiny black gun at his nose.\n\n\"Yeah, but what does that have to do with you,\" the puzzled bagface asked.\n\n\"He's got you there, sir.\" Hong interrupted. \"What does that excuse have to do with sparing lives?\"\n\n\"Something about dependency based on income?\"\n\n\"I always thought our financial support network would cover for that.\"\n\n\"Well, it doesn't in Texas at least.\"\n\nThe bag-faced man shrugged his shoulders, pulling the trigger as he felt the man nudge against his gun. \"Then again, I don't really know what the policy is in Abertown.\"\n\n\"Must be pretty shit if you have to rob this place,\" Hong figured, shrugging her shoulders. \"Just for the sake of conversation, you got a name?\"\n\nHong stared at the bank robber, waiting for a response. The paper-bag wearing criminal was both confused and oddly interested in this weird chain of events. Hearing the sound of a person trying to get off the ground and run, he opened a bullet to the little boy's side, keeping him seated.\n\n\"Umm... call me Bagface?\"\n\n\"That's not a name.\"\n\n\"Screw you, you got a name, shortstack?\"\n\n\"Nice to meet you Bagface,\" Hong smiled, shifting her legs to a different kneeling style. Hard wood is pretty wearing against the knees after all.\n\n\"Well... howdy to you too?\" Abram remained confused, resting his rifle between his hands. \"You're a pretty strange woman, you know that? Most people aren't err- stupid enough to talk to someone with a loaded gun in their hand.\"\n\n\"Well, it's either get shot and die, make friends with dead corpses, or this.\" The girl shrugged her shoulders.\n\n\"I like to think that this is the best choice for me.\"\n\n\"Right... you can just go ahead and take a seat if you want. This is honestly going to take a while and I think I just killed every other hostage here.\"\n\n\"Kid's running.\"\n\nAbram turned around and opened fire on the teenage boy as he ran off. About two hours from now, it will turn out that the small boy was in fact, not a small boy, but an elderly midget standing on top of another midget. For what reason? The police struggled to find out, only to come up with \"We have nothing.\"\n\n\"Now, now I've killed every other hostage here.\" Abram checked his watch. \"So, I've got about twenty minutes. Anything you wanna talk about?\"\n\nHong snickered, thinking to herself Take that mom! I could totally bag a guy if I wanted too!\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nSome months later, Christmas dinner with Hong's family was a very peculiar event indeed. Aside from the funeral for the two dead midget uncles, the presence of a bag-wearing man at the dining table was, as quoted by Hong's younger cousin, \"pretty fucking weird.\"\n\n[Edit: Words missing.]", "Her blond hair was pulled back tight in a pony tail, and she had beautiful green eyes. Even with her makeup smudged from sobbing, they were still brilliant.\n\n\"So, do you come here often?\" I whispered to her. It came out all garbled, like speaking through a mouthful of peanut butter. Maybe it was the fact that I was nervous, or maybe that it was the fact that my cheek was pressed against the tile floor. \n\nShe glanced up at me in utter confusion. Then her eyes darted back to one of the robbers, maybe ten meters away. He was walking between the rows of hostages on the ground. \"A single part of you lifts off the ground,\" he reminded us, \"And I shoot.\" His eyes, the only part of his face visible through the black ski mask, looked like he was serious about it. \n\n\"What?\" she hissed back when she was sure that he was out of ear shot. I noticed that she had sparkling, straight white teeth. Probably a beautiful smile. \n\n\"You know, here to the bank,\" I said, trying to scoot a little closer to her without being noticed. \"Do you like... have direct deposit set up, or do you need to come in ^to ^manually ^^deposit ^^your...\" My voice got quieter and quieter until eventually it trailed off into a mumble. I knew the 'What the hell is wrong with you' stare pretty well; it was a pretty standard response to my conversation attempts with women. But I've never seen a violent version of it. Normally just pity.\n\n\"Are you... trying to flirt with me?\" she asked. \"What ki...\"\n\n\"QUIET!\" The bank robber shouted, jumping over other hostages and shoving his gun into my back. \"What did you say?\" he shouted, leaning down so he could scream it right into my ear. Flecks of spittle landed on my earlobe, and I had to fight the almost-overwhelming urge to wipe them off. Even with my nose pressed against the bleached floor, the putrid smell coming from his mouth was enough to make me gag. \n\n\"I was just making conversation,\" I mumbled. \n\nHe heaved me up off the floor by the collar and put the cold barrel of the gun under my chin. \"This your girlfriend?\" he teased, with a cloud of foul odor washing over my face. \n\n\"Ugh, NO!\" the girl practically shouted from the floor, risking life and limb to make it clear that we were not together. \n\nHe turned back to me. \"That true? You like this girl?\"\n\nI could feel my cheeks reddening, and the robber started laughing. \"Tommy, come here for a second!\" \n\nThe robber's partner emerged from behind the teller's desk with a duffel bag overflowing with bills. \"Trouble?\" Tommy asked.\n\n\"Nah,\" the first robber said. \"You just gotta see how awkward this guy is,\" he said, gesturing at me and still shaking with laughter. \n\n\"Girl, stand up,\" he ordered. She followed the order reluctantly, glaring daggers at me for having wrapped her up in all this. \n\n\"Ask her out,\" he said.\n\nMy cheeks were already close to spontaneously combusting. \n\n\"Do... do you maybe wanna... gowimesmtm...\" The rest of the sentence became a jumble of tongue-tied rambling.\n\nTommy cracked up too, and even the girl giggled just a bit, wiping away the mascara running down her cheek.\n\n\"Fuck this,\" I exclaimed. With one motion, I grabbed the gun, kicked Tommy's feet out from under him, and knocked Robber #1 unconscious. If only they had known that I had funneled all of my pent up anger into years of karate lessons. Or that I had no social life so I spent hours and hours at the dojo. \n\nThe look on her face was priceless. They should put that in the dictionary next to 'Shock.'\n\n\"You didn't have to laugh at me,\" I told her as the police came rushing in. " ]	5
	[WP] [NSFW] You're grocery shopping with your four year old, who suddenly stats asking you what an orgasm is. Your child will not stop asking and threatens to ask teachers if you do not tell them. Catch: the child has a supernatural ability to tell when you're telling the truth.	[ "\"Daddy, what's an orgasm?\"\n\n\"Well... Uh... It's something that happens to adults when they engage in certain activities\"\n\n\"Daddy, I can tell that you're lying again\"\n\n\"Okay, fine, it doesn't have to be adults. It's actually pretty common for teenagers and sometimes even younger people to have an... Uh, orgasm\"\n\nThe old lady looking at boxes of cereal scoffed\n\n\"Daddy, you're still lying! Mrs. Benson was said the other day in science class that animals and plants were orgasms, but rocks weren't. So what's an orgasm?\"\n\n\"Ohhhhhh. Well sweety, an organism is something that is alive. Does that make sense?\"\n\n\"Finally you're telling the truth. And so things that are alive can have, what did you call it... an orgasm?\"", "I realized in that moment that being a liberal, sex positive feminist was not going to help me with this one. \n\nOh wait, it was. \n'Well, son.' I said squatting down. \n'Yes, dad?' He said with expectant, demanding eyes. \n\n'An orgasm is when your body shakes and you feel really good after your play with your genitals.' \n'But, Dad, you taught me how to play with mine and that doesn't happen!' \n'I know, Skidge,' I said, so proud that he'd been masturbating when he wanted to, 'It doesn't happen until you're older?' \n'Does it happen to Jaycee?' \n'How would you ask her that?' \n'I'd ask her if it was okay to ask her a personal sex question first.' \n'Yes. So when we meet up with her and Papa at the back of the store, you can ask her then, okay?' \n'Okay.' \n\nAs we proceeded farther down the aisle, my Dad-senses tingled and, without looking, I said, 'Aaron, put that box of Cocoa Puffs back.' \n'Awww, come on Dad!' \n" ]	2
	[WP] All bullets travel at the speed of Bullet Bills in Mario games. Tell the story of a hitman sent to kill a very corrupt businessman.	[ "His name was Reuben Grey. And mine is Mario Salazar. Glad we got that out of the way.\n\nEvidently, he'd pissed a lot of people off. Reuben seemed like a pretty smart dude, at least by my estimation. He was careful in the way he hid his business ventures, slowly accruing money through his successful theme parks across the globe. In a short few years, he’d become a true Roller Coaster Tycoon. Ha, get it? Like the game? But what people refused to believe was how he achieved that wealth. Reuben jacked up the prices of concessions in his theme parks, increased his waiting lines and even charged to use the bathroom! But worst of all, Rueben used human testers to test ride his newest coasters. Often, the rides would result in a fatal ending, killing most if not all of the testers. If you need a reason to hate the villain, here it is.\n\nSo who am I? I’m the hero of course! Well, sort of the de facto hero. See, the reason I exist is to kill Reuben Grey; a hitman of sorts. But I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to know that. In fact, I’m not supposed to know a lot of things. Like how if I jump into the bottom of a brick slab with the top of my head, it will crumble like it was made of dirt. Or that bullets move really slow, and I’m pretty sure they have faces on them. Or that if you jump on top of anyone twice, it kills them. So really, I think I’ve got a fair shot at killing Rebuen.\n\nBut for now, I’ve got to get out of this explanation and to the tutorial, but you already knew that, didn’t you?\n", "Jaune d'elans\nA wealthy 54 year old vineyard owner who used his land and shipments to support the local mafia's drug trafficking. That's all I knew about him. That and he was wearing a fine silk grey suit as he stepped into the elevator.\nHe was my target and I was pretty sure this was my moment. He was distracted, speaking rapid french into his cell. I hit the button for the 30th floor. He leaned in to hit a button and as he did I turned about, drew the switchblade from my back pocket, and thrust it into his stomach. He shouts and thrashes away. Just as the doors begin to close, the guards notice and draw their weapons. Each is armed with a handheld smg. High fire rate but slow projectiles. They fire a long burst each and I grab Jaune's shoulder with my left hand and pull him toward me. I hold his torso in front of mine and use his chest as a shield. The bullets strike a few moments later, each with incredible force, slamming me back, but few even penetrate all the way through him. The doors shut and I drop his limp body to the elevator floor to the sound of several thuds on the door. I stand over his body, chest heaving, hands bloody, watching the floors tick up." ]	2
Closing your eyes by definition is blinking, sleeping, eyelids covering the eyes...	[WP]Time only moves when you close your eyes.	[ "I'm finally starting to realize it. It all just makes perfect sense to me now. I thought about it a little as a kid, but they just seemed like childhood fantasies about the world revolving around me. They'd say the world still existed behind my back and the world still existed when I slept but I never thought it was this extreme. I noticed it more and more as I grew older, things just seemed to slow down a little more with every passing day. Now it's really come to things being.. frozen. I only notice changes when I wake up in the morning. Ever since I lost my parents when I was a teenager, I could support myself and read a lot of books to understand the world around me but now I really see.\n\nThe world does surround me. The world relies on me. It's hard to tell if this is a simulation or if this is real, but I think I am starting to realize the dark reality of this all. I've been sitting in the woods for what I thought was hours just looking at nature and seeing the rabbits move a few inches every couple seconds and the leaves frozen in the air. When I close my eyes, I can hear the world moving around me but when I open them, nothing. I am the control in this world and I decide when things occur. The world is my own and I want to use it to learn. The only problem is the people. They will notice that I age much quicker than them, and move around much differently than them. I think I'll have to stay in the woods where animals don't mind the true nature of this world. I'll sneak into libraries and try to learn more and do anything I can to help the world. I wonder if there were ones like this before me or if there will be ones like this after I die. I need to try to find out, figure out why I'm here or if there's more of a purpose to this. I'll be on my way right after this quick nap so I can finally do this in a bit of sunlight.", "To my Love,\nFor the first 10 years of my life I spent a lot of time being shipped from specialist doctors and psychologists and psychiatrists and even hypnotists because to the world it seemed like my eyes have never been open. This is because for me, time only moves when my eyes are closed. Eventually my parents decided to let it be when specialists concluded that my condition did not hinder my progress in life, in fact quite the opposite. I had extra time to practice any skill I tried just by opening my eyes. I know what you are thinking wouldn't people notice that I teleported to the other side of the room or that objects would be there then a split second gone well they didn't, I don't know if it is part of my ability or if it is because its a force that peoples brain can't comprehend but no one has ever noticed a change. \nThe truth is looking back I probably should have used this power for good. With great power comes great responsibility, That's what I heard anyway but throughout my life I have thought only of myself. I used it to cruise through school and work. I had almost limitless time to achieve any task I was required to do and because people assumed I couldn't see I got a easy ride to be honest and I was always happy about that.\nI loved my life until I met you. I had never really connected with anybody, Everybody seemed like inanimate theatre props in the play that was my life. I had never minded because I had never really known different and I never had any reason to hope for anything else. I had felt sorry for friends and family who had got themselves in situations that could be easily avoided if they could stop time. \nYou were beautiful, as soon as I saw you I froze. It was Love at first sight. People say when you meet that one person time freezes, well for me it did. I felt like I stared for days, I had stopped the world turning just to look into your beautiful blue eyes.\nI am not sure how it happened but I got talking to you and you liked me. We started dating but as time went on I started to feel a void build up inside me. I slowly realised that although I loved your beautiful smile, your button nose and your olive skin all I would ever be allowed would be a snapshot of your beautiful features. A frozen picture of the woman I loved and over time I yearned for nothing more than to watch your nose flare when you told a little lie about where we were going for dinner or watch your fingers slowly wrap round my hand as we lay together. I would never be able to see the beautiful woman I adored being the funny, smart, wonderful woman you are.\nMy gift had become my curse and this is why I am writing to you. I cannot share another moment of our lives like this. Our wedding was a flipbook to me. Our sons life has been not much more than staggered freeze frames with a voice track of him growing up. I am truly sorry but this is why I have to go, I will be gone by the time you read this letter but know I will always love you and our son and that nothing pains me greater than the fact I have never truly experienced life as you know it. \n\n\nJust started writing. Be kind... not really rip it apart if you want, only way to get better for sure\nThanks\n\nEdit: Apparently I wrote this like an advanced 5 year old. I have corrected as much as I can but I am tired now so maybe there is a few more mistakes", "Perhaps the most comforting sense was a sunset wrapping me in its dying warmth. Sometimes I was certain I could feel the colors. Our crunching footsteps added a delightful disturbance to the natural ambiance. Songs from the birds' beaks echoed throughout the green forest canvas. A rushing creek down the mountainside beckoned a peaceful sleep. Alone. \n\nSometimes it's such a beautiful thing. Being alone isn't the same as being lonely though.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nGrowing up, I don't remember laughing that much. Imagine being out of sync with everyone. What you witness is never the same as them. What is relative to you doesn't quite equate to the same as them. \n\nThen I met her. She was offbeat. A \"victim\" of heterochromia. One soft brown eye that just begs for your comfort, and the other, a magnificent blue full of emotion and bravery. \n\n\"I'll tell you a secret if you tell me one.\"\n\nI already knew it. We had caught each others' glimpses throughout our several dates. She reached for my prescribed glasses...\n\n\"Sure,\" I said cooly, \"just close your eyes...\"\n\nShe shifted uncomfortably.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Hand.\" I called out.\n\nHer smooth skin was soon wrapped around my fingers. One of the few comforting things left for me.\n\n\"It's really beautiful, thank you for taking me. You going to take a look?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Don't go anywhere, alright?\" I opened my eyes.\n\nIt's different when you finally look. I see aura's chasing each other, like leafs in the wind. There are layers as if though several canvas were struck together by an artist using lightning. Time standing still isn't everything frozen, it's everything dull. Slow can be beautiful. A small moment like this conveyed information that was enduring to absorb. \n\nIt was almost enough to make me forget I lost her touch. I grasped my hand tighter. I just...I wish she could be here in person. Just once.\n\nI closed my eyes.\n\n\"Pretty, isn't it?\" She said a little sad.\n\nI forced a smile. She started to tear up and immediately disappeared. This was her habit. She could never hide her emotions, if she could just close her eyes, time would stand still. \n\nThere she is. Cold. Her head in my chest, weeping. Hands clenching my back as if I had been gone for years. \n\n\"We've made a mistake, haven't we?\" I weakly put.\n\nShe just let out another cry. \"No, no. It just...it just needs work. We can try again...\" She kept phasing in and out, not capable of staying in control.\n\nI slowly retracted her hands off of me. What if two oceans fell in love?\n\nI opened my eyes. The ground she stood in was completely drenched in salt water. I began my walk back. Not everything slow is beautiful.\n\nTwo suns. Two north magnets. Two oceans. Two songs.\n\nThey can never be one.\n\nSometimes the most difficult thing to see is the need to move on.\n\n\n\n", "Every time I blink I can feel my life dwindle away. Waking up from sleep and knowing I literally wasted several hours of my life. I cant deal with it. I want to be immortal, I prefer the world in its frozen state. What I want to do will be seen as mad, but I've done all the preparation. I understand how proximity to myself and time control works. My invention ready and functioning. The last step was finding two doctors willing to do my operation. \n\n\"Are you sure you want to do this? You're not going to like your life.\"\n\n\"I'm paying you aren't I? Just get one with it. And remember, you both have to finish at the same time.\" Even with my eyes closed I know they are taking one last look at each other, wondering if what they are doing is moral. I feel the blades cut along my upper eye lids and then my lower. It only lasts a few moments. They leave the lids in place, making sure they are ready to remove both tops and bottoms at the same time, as instructed. They attach the mister to the top of my head, a cool spray of fluids to keep my eyes moist. Then time stopped. As soon as they started to remove the lids, my eyes were no longer closed. I push their arms out of the way, my eyes eternally open. I feel like I can see more, everything is more vivid. My new life has begun, and I've never felt so invigorated. ", "I'm not blind, but I can't see.\n\nI have a power. When I close my eyes, time passes normally. When I open my eyes, the world stands still.\n\nIt isn't all fun and games. As cool as this power is, it has its downsides. Most people think I'm blind, and it's easier that way. I can't drive. I can't play sports. I have to be careful about returning to the exact position that I was in whenever I'm watched.\n\nI have pulled some of the juvenile capers that you would expect. I've snuck into the girl's locker room. I've messed with bullies. I've messed with friends. But none of that stuff is as fun as it should be because I can't watch motion.\n\n__________________________________\n\nI'm sorry. I seem to be stuck. I can't figure out what to do with the story from here. I do like the concept quite a bit, though. I may come back at some point if I can figure out how to continue this.", "They call me The Blindfold. I must admit I didn't like the name at first but it's definitely rubbing off on me. People seem to assume I'm blind because my eyes are always shut so now I gotta play up the charade or else people will get suspicious. I got dark shades and a cane but I can honestly see just as good as anyone else. The only difference is, when I open my eyes, time is still. \n\nIt's been like this my whole life and I've grown accustomed to it. \n\nFighting crime with a power like this is a long game of chess for me. Eyes open. Bad guy lifts his left arm up. Eyes closed. I'll parry it with my night cane to his forearm. Eyes open. Bad guy responds with a kick towards my groin. Eyes closed. I'll catch his leg and throw him to the ground.\n\nAnd so on and so on. \n\nBut now the villians are getting smarter. I need to keep my identity a secret at all times or I might just get checkmated..." ]	6
	[WP] You have alot of complaints about God. One day an old man shows up at your doorstep and yells at you, "IM DONE, NO ONE APPRECIATES WHAT I DO, SO YOU KNOW WHAT, IF YOU THINK YOU CAN DO A BETTER JOB, THEN HERE. NOW YOUR GOD!!! BYE."	[ "1. I laugh maniacally.\n2. Understand the secrets of the universe\n3. Understand the origin of all things and fathom this plane of existence.\n4. I do #2 & #3 in less than fifty nine seconds.\n5. I find my grandma in heaven and make sure it's all legit up there. Fix the AC, make sure door security is good to go, etc.\n6. I reward the righteous and smite the guilty (you know who you are) in a old testament kind of way.\n7. I make shit that was horribly wrong, go right.\n8. I make shit that goes right, horribly wrong.\n9. I answer some prayers and ignore the rest.\n10. I consult with Jesus as a consultant.\n11. I fix the things the devil breaks.\n12. I flood some shit.\n13. I level the richest churches who claim to praise me but keep my money.\n14. I free the slaves that Anakin promised to free but didn't.\n15. I put \"God\" back into the pledge of allegiance.\n16. I modernize the bible and release for free on .pdf and name it Bible v.10\n17. I put lost families back together.\n18. I teach people harsh but survivable lessons.\n19. I end religious wars fought in my name.\n20. I make man humble again.", "\"Now my God ... does what?\" I ask to the empty air. I hear \"BYE\" echoing loudly in my ears and I'm confused as to what happened. \n\n\"Who was that, Felicia?\" I shrugged. I had no idea. \n\n\"Doesn't matter anyway. We need to finish our list.\" \n\nJames and I have been working on this list, ALOT. It was a comprehensive list of things, (hence the acronym) about our problems with a specific deity who thought himself all high and mighty. We'd just made it to number 97: Hornets, when I was interrupted by the doorbell. ALOT was kind of our hobby. It wasn't just a bedazzled composition book with complaints. There were solutions, too. Some of them, granted, weren't very good, but James and I didn't care about stuff like that. Unlike the G man upstairs, (Gerald, I mean. He's actually #15 on the list. That guy was such a prick) we weren't all about perfection. Mostly we just wanted to hang out, and find silly things to talk about. \n\n\"Number 98 should be how electronics quality has completely devolved in the last 15 years or so. Fucking ser-\"\n\nThe sudden flash of light was blindingly brilliant, but that wasn't what got my attention. It was the caterwauling, and the noise that sounded like someone had stepped on a tack and burnt its entire family as recompense. \"Are you fucking kidding me?!\" \n\nJames and I stared, dumbly at the figure, still appearing before our eyes in tacky Bermuda shorts and was that a coconut bra? \n\n\"I don't think so.. Mister... uh...........\" I was having trouble forming the word I was looking for. I still hadn't entirely decided what I was planning to say, when I realized this guy was actually still talking. \n\n\"... nothing to do with the fucking state of the damnable electronics ... \" I tuned out again. Who the fuck was this guy? Was this the same guy I saw earlier? \".. I swear to me if one more person asks for prayers to pass a breathalizer ... \" But no. That guy was in a white robe. \"... and why the fuck does anyone think I don't just want to sit and watch the fucking super bowl. But no, you selfish mother fuckers make me pick sides every damned time and ...\" Maybe it's a friend of Gerald's? He had weird friends, but I thought most of them were lizard people. \n\nI tuned back in to snapping in my face. \"Hello? Earth to Felicia? The list? What is the deal with the list?\" \n\n\"ALOT?\" I asked, still only half paying attention. \"I dunno. It's just something to do.\" It's definitely the same guy as earlier, but why's he here?\n\nIt was at this point that I realized he was exasperatedly explaining something to me that sounded mildly familiar. \"Your god now!\" \n\n\"My god does what?\" His syntax is fucking confusing.\n\n\"I'm done being god. YOUR GOD NOW!\" \n\n\"I don't understand you. Do YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?\" I cradled my arms like a baby to elaborate on my point. \"WERE YOU BORN IN AMERICA?\" \n\nThe man was giving James a look. I realized by now that James has been a silent, stammering on-looker for most of this exchange. \n\n\"James? Do you know what he means?\" More stammering. Fucking perfect, James. Just what I'd expect. Talks all intelligent but when I actually need him to exercise his brain, all he has are monosyllabic grunts and \"g-g-g-g-g\" noises. Sounds like Scooby Doo, bitching about a ghost.\n\nThe guy in my living room looked equally confused at this point. \"Hello? Felicia? It's me? The guy upstairs?\" \n\n\"Look. I know the guy up stairs and you aren't Gerald.\" \n\n\"You know what?\" He was giving me aa pointed look and trying to figure something out. \"Never mind. Just... never mind.\" \n\nAs quickly as he came, he was gone. James didn't seem to be recovering from his affliction any time soon. I say back down to ALOT to try to formulate some sort of complaint about how God rested on the 7th day. \n\nI'll finish this damned list some day. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You always felt like you slept all night but you never feel well rested in the morning. One night you decide to stay up.	[ "I wasn't sure what kept me up tonight, but I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights. Muscles sore. Bedsheets damp. It left me exhausted. It was annoying at best but it left me rather lethargic on mornings I had to get up early. I didn't have work tomorrow so many that attributed to me mindlessly flipping through areas of the internet.\n\nI began to doze after it neared around three in the morning. My eyes were heavy but I kept them open ever so slightly. I was in the middle of being awake and being asleep when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was enough to keep me from slipping fully into sleep. My eyelids were narrow slits as I watched.\n\nThe window to my room slowly opened. A young lady around my age slipped thruogh the pane, light on her feet. She smiled at something just above me and to the right. That's when I felt like I slipped into a bathtub filled with ice water.\n\nThat's when my feet swung over the side of my bed. I'm not sure what was going on, but I felt calm. I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or still stuck in that limbo between the two.\n\nI was up on my feet gracefully walking towards the young lady that previously climbed through my window. She curtseyed and my body bowed. I felt my lips pull back into a grin. Then our bodies joined together close and we danced the night away.", "Being tired every day is exhausting. My alarm clock goes off very early each morning, but it seems despite how early I go to sleep, I’m still painfully tired. Even sitting at my desk has become a chore—I fall asleep in front of my computer more days than not. \n\nObviously, something needed to change. In the hope of breaking through this cycle of monotonous fatigue, I decided to pull my first all-nighter. At least it was a Friday, so I could catch up on missed sleep the next day. Looking back on everything, I wish that I had stayed in bed. \n\nAt 10:30, it was business as usual, except now I was watching TV in the living room instead of reading in the bedroom. It’s quite strange, watching the local nightly news. I recognized the anchors from commercials, but have never actually watched them live. They seem too energetic, although that could just be because I’ve been up since 4:30 A.M. \n\nThere was a knock on my front door. I nearly jumped out of the couch. Who in the world is knocking on my door so late at night? I’m a 30-something-year-old female living by herself, so of course my defenses go into overdrive. \n\nTurning down the television, I stealthily tiptoed to the front door, both cautious and maybe a little paranoid. I quietly peeked though the viewfinder in the door. Mark, my downstairs neighbor, is standing on the welcome mat. \n\nI’ve never said much to Mark except maybe a hello in passing. He’s always been pretty shy and reserved, as have I. I carefully open the front door a little. \n\n“What’s up?” I asked Mark through the crack I created. “You know, it’s pretty late.” \n\nMark looked at me with his blue eyes, seemingly surprised. He stutters for a few moments before sighing and saying, “Guess you’re awake tonight, eyh?” \n\nI took a moment to process, and then said, “What are you talking about?” Curiously, I opened the door to about halfway. \n\nMark just let out a small laugh. Or maybe it was a cough. “Go grab a jacket and come with me. You need to hurry.” \n\nI stood in the doorframe, hands on my hips. I was starting to get mad. “Sorry, Mark, but can you come back tomorrow? I was getting ready to go to bed and I have a long day tomorrow.” It was a lie, obviously, but how could he know otherwise? \n\n“No, you’re not. Don’t you want to know why you’re so damn exhausted every day? You’ll want to come with me.” \n\nI grabbed a sweater and followed Mark down the stairs. Of course I was wary, but how in the world did he know about my sleep issues? Curiosity got the best of me. \n\nMark and I walked down a few blocks from our building, eventually coming to an empty park. Mark turned around and looked at me, eyes glimmering with hope. \n\n“This is the first time I’ve picked anyone up who has been self-aware. I’d say you might want to sit down for this, but I’m afraid we don’t have the time. You’re going to think this is crazy, and it probably is, but it needs to be said, and it needs to be said now before we all forget.” Mark starts to talk faster, moving his large hands erratically with every word. \n\n“Every night, we are taken. I don’t want to say aliens or vampires or whatever folk tale you may believe in, because frankly, I don’t know what they are. But they have an objective. They’re stealing our lives to build up their own. I have no idea where they come from, but they send us—the escorts—to get you—the pledges—a couple nights a week.” He hesitated, but continued. “I really don’t know where they take you, all I know is that the pledges come back with no memories, only the feeling of being tired.” \n\nI looked down the empty street. Clearly, Mark has lost his senses. I needed to find a safe way to get away from him immediately. The sweater I was wearing was the same one that I go running in the mornings when it’s cool and damp. Being paranoid woman that I am, I always carry pepper spray on me when I go running. \n\nMark was still ranting about these mystical beings that suck our life force and was growing increasingly frantic. He was obviously too distracted to notice as I slowly slid the cap off the spray, and then swung it towards his face in one swift motion. \n\nThe noise he emitted as the spray made eye contact was awful and ear splitting. But it was my only chance to get away from this crazy man before he tried to do anything besides talking. \n\nI run five miles every morning, so running the few blocks back to my building was nothing. I hit a crack in the sidewalk and tumbled. I should have known about it, since I run across it every day, but was too hurried to get back to the safe confinement of my apartment. \n\nI rolled over and noticed that my knees and shins were bleeding profusely. I was in pain, but my adrenaline was too high to care. I was getting back up when the brightest lights I had ever seen blinded me. \n\n\nIt wasn’t a plane or a helicopter, but there was something flying in the air above my apartment. It seemed like the object was flickering in and out of view, but that just wasn’t possible. I tried to move quickly to the alleyway nearby, but was paralyzed and captivated at the same time. \n\nAfter a moment, I heard the sound. It sounded like both a screech and a lullaby at the same time; it was almost magical. The object landed not too far from me, and then the doors opened. The horrors were just beginning. \n", "Allright Mom, I'm off to bed I said, trying my best to mimic the usual trudge up the stairs I have before I fall asleep. \n\nThis time it would be different. This time, I would figure out why I saw myself get out of bed on the camera I had left on my dresser, and why I had returned hours later without remembering a thing. \n\nI entered my room and closed the door, making sure that I latched the deadbolt, something I had never really done before. I set up my camera on the dresser just like last night, grabbed my laptop, and hopped in bed, leaving my desk lamp on so as to elude any thoughts of sleep - though, honestly, I doubt that would be a problem. \n\nI looked at my watch,\n\n11:23pm, this is about the same time I got up and walked out of the view of the camera yesterday, I remembered.\n\nSuddenly, I felt a strange tingling sensation in my legs - it was as though they were wanting to move on their own, like they had fallen asleep and needed to walk around to get rid of the tingles. The sensation spread up my legs, slowly at first, until it reached my waist, and then all hell broke loose. The sensation rushed up the rest of my body, permeating my brain and rapidly increasing in intensity. I felt compelled to get up, as though I was being pulled by some invisible rope. I resisted, tossing and turning in my sheets, fighting desperately this relentless urge to get out of my bed. Then, almost as quickly as it had came, the sensation ceased. I lay in my bed, my sheets a twisted mass covering my sweaty limbs, and tried to calm my breathing.\n\nSuddenly, my door opened. It wasn't some creepy, slow creaking motion like in your quintessential horror flick, but just a normal, gradual opening. I sat up in bed and waited, expecting my mom or dad to walk in and ask me if everything was alright. But everything wasn't alright...I had locked the deadbolt. The deadbolt that only I can unlock. From the inside of the room. A sharp chill ran down my spine as I glanced over at the time.\n\n11:23pm\n\nHow was that possible? I wondered, my thoughts beginning to race. The whole experience seemed to last at least ten or so minutes, but no time had elapsed at all?\n\nI slowly swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood up, quickly pulling on my pants and an old shirt. I looked at my camera - the red \"recording\" light was turned off, I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. I made my way slowly to the beginning of the small hallway where my door was, and peeked around the corner.\n\nI saw my door, opened fully, revealing the long dark hallway of the second floor of my house. Except, there were no lights on. In fact, I don't even know if it was my hallway, all I could see was a thick blackness. I slowly walked towards the entrance, pulling out my phone and using its dim backlight to illuminate the space in front of me. As I got to the entrance and shined my phone into the dark area, I saw a small shape in the distance, disappearing and reappearing so quickly I could barely tell what it was. But I could tell it was getting closer. A sudden impulse brought me to throw my phone into what I thought was my hallway, in the hope of at least offering some clarity into whatever it was I was looking through, but the phone simply disappeared. I took a deep breath, rolled back my shoulders, and ventured out to get it.\n\nLord Commander!\n\nLORD COMMANDER\n\nSir we need you, the troops are in array! The walls have been breeched, our men cannot hold the line for much longer!\n\nI was in a poorly lit room, bending over a table upon which there was an old map sprawled about. Strange markings were covering landmasses I had no knowledge of, but, as I looked, they became more familiar.\n\nI glanced at my side, noticing a large sword was adorning my left hip and a gleaming dagger on my right. My hands were rough, covered in callouses, and a short, scraggly beard covered my face. Long, dark hair pinned back draped over my shoulders. \n\nBAM\n\nThe door to the room exploded open, shards of wood flying everywhere. As the dust settled, I began to hear noises. At first they sounded distant, only a small growl and the occasional high-pitched squeal. But they were getting closer.\n\nA large man next to me unsheathed a great axe from a sling around his back, and I looked down to find I had done the same with my weapons.\n\nThey're coming, the tall man said.\n\nLet them come, I found myself saying in a deep, gruff voice.\n\nIt's just another sleepless night for us, boys.\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You are granted a fish by a higher power. You have no idea why.	[ "I remember the gentle breeze that swept through the trees at my back as I sat atop the grassy hill gazing at the splendor above. The sun dipped out of sight as the moon rose to its rightful place and I recall the faint tickle of the green tips against my legs. It was one of the few places where you could escape everyone else. Few dared to venture this far beyond civilization, perhaps because they didn't know that such places lay there. Every night, if I could, I would slip through the densely wooded patch behind our house and spend an hour or two just looking at the stars.\n\nOften I wondered what it was like to be a star, or even what they did when they were hidden from sight. Could the stars do as they wished or did they just follow orders? Were the stars even capable of something more? I thought about it for a time and realized that beyond remaining still or rocketing past, there was little that I had seen a star do. I began to question my interest in these glimmering lights that shone in the night. Maybe I didn't understand them as well as I thought that I had, perhaps if I could see one up close, I'd understand.\n\nA faint shimmer in the corner of my view drew my attention away, a shooting star that had freed itself from the cosmic goo. It ran across the skies in a smooth arc, threatening to leave my sight before I had a chance to make a simple wish. Stumbling on an ever growing list of wants and needs, I managed to blurt out a request for something out of this world. I wanted to have my own piece of the galaxy, something that could help me understand the great unknown. As I opened my eyes, I saw that it had gone. A familiar voice shouted out to me as I hoped that my wish had reached it in time. It wasn't much, but it was something.\n\nI returned the next night to find a startling surprise waiting for me where I had sat last. A tiny goldfish, no larger than my palm flopped about in the grass with no water in sight. Scooping it between my hands, I looked up to the stars in a mixture of confusion and anger. My heart trembled with the same panic that I saw in the eyes of the fish. I was not yet ready for this sort of responsibility.\n\n“What am I supposed to do with this‽” I shouted, raising the fish high.\n\n“Your wish has been granted and with it, you have been granted some measure of responsibility” the heavens boomed in reply.\n\n“W-I didn't ask for this! Take it back!” I replied defiantly as the fish flailed helplessly in my hands.\n\n“You can't do that, it's against the rules” they argued.\n\n“Who-What rules?” I asked.\n\n“My rules. The rules I just made up and I'm putting them in this book that you now have to keep” they replied hastily.\n\n“I didn't want the fish and now I've got a book too‽”I complained. “No, I'll trade you the fish for the book.”\n\n“The fish and...?” they asked expectantly.\n“What do you mean, “the fish and...?”” I answered angrily. “They were both yours to start with, take them back.”\n\n“You're terrible at negotiating. Look, you can leave with just the book if you give us the fish and...the state of New York” they said snarkily.\n\n“What‽ I couldn't possibly give you a state!” I replied incredulously. “All I've got is the fish, a gumball, a few quarters, and my dog.”\n\n“You really are awful at this! You don't just tell me the best you have right away, you've got to lead into it. Besides, your dog doesn't have long to live anyway. Sorry” they replied, only apologizing as an afterthought.\n\n“My dog is going to die?” I said, heartbroken from the thought of losing my friend. “Here. Take your stupid fish. I won't make any more wishes either, unless you can bring back my dog. I'm taking the book and I'm going home.”\n\n-168", "Pulling the gaming mask off of my face I got ready to go to work. God I hated work I thought to myself. Shower, eat, dress, drag a comb through my hair and I was set. Shambling down the decrepit steps that lead to my apartment I shouldered my way into the crowd muttering rough apologies as best I could. It was New York City, after all. I'd never see these people again so what did it matter if I bumped them a bit? I started the walk to the subway getting my usual coffee from the vendor outside of the subway. ugh The coffee was unusually acrid and bitter this morning. Almost tasted like the Japanese food I had last night. Long story short Japanese food and coffee don't mix. For all of the subway ride I had to deal with growing discontent in my stomach. Exiting the subway onto the muggy, damp platform, I pushed through the crowd and up into the humid June air. Casually walking along the sidewalk for a couple blocks, weaving around on a circuitous and random route but still going in the same direction, I ever so casually sat down on a bench and observed the passerby. Good. No one unusual or oddly out of place. Trying to calm my unsettled stomach once again I hurriedly turned into a nearby alleyway and stepped into the first doorway. Inside the Russian was sitting there. As I forced the door closed behind me, glancing one last time outside to make sure no one had seen me he spoke up. \"Alex, good you made it. I started to get worried we have very little time. You know what to do. Get anything you can out of him\" Nodding my agreement but not bothering to question who he had captured I opened up the steel door into the soundless, padded room. Sitting at the table, handcuffed, was the British PM. What? Is he serious? The PM? As I widened my eyes in surprise I suddenly doubled over, and hacked up the remains of my dinner. Right up and out of my trachea and onto the floor came something...unusual. Even though it was only 2 seconds, which seemed like 2 hours, I stared down at the fish sitting there. It was flapping around, struggling to breath. Fugu fish. 1200 deadlier than cyanide if not prepared correctly. Bloody hell how did I eat that?? On a tag on its tail there were tiny words that I could just make out. \"God doesn't give a damn if you hate work\"", "The Fish and The Drunk\n\nI\n\nIn August I park my truck \nIn the sand flats outside of Wichita, Arizona \nI don’t even know why I drove here \nSomething called me to, I guess \n(and drinking this whiskey out here beats work) \nSo I sit here, watching a road runner \nNibble at a saguaro flower \n(Do road runners eat saguaro flowers?) \n\nI’m just sitting here, watching this bird \nWhen \nLike some old tomato hurled at a tin shed \nSomething lands on my roof. \n\nIt’s so hot I don’t want to get out \nBut I see nothing overhead: \nNo airplanes \nNo birds \nNo clouds \n\nII\n\nWhen I look on the roof \nThe first thing I see is the dent. \n\nThe second thing I see is the trout \nTwelve inches and Dichronic \n\nThe fish is still flopping \nWhich makes me scared to touch it \nCould be cursed \nConsidering the next body of water \nWhich doesn’t even have fish \nIs the Wichita Canal, a good seventeen miles away \nAnd it’s still flopping after that fall. \n\nI scoop it up \nIt just stares at me \n\n\nI stare at the fish for a while \nI kind of want to save its life \nBut there’s no water and I’m low on gas. \n\nThe fish stares at me \nMaking faces \nI really don’t like this fish after that \n\nIII\n\n“Can you grant me wishes” \nThe fish just keeps making faces : \nI poke it \nBlow on it \nAsk it more questions \nThrow it in a Walgreen’s bag \n(after I smash its head and bled it out)\nCall my wife \nAnd warn her of the fish’s arrival \n\nIV\n\nMy wife filets the fish and heats oil on medium \nShe adds to the frying pan: \n\nOne clove garlic, minced \nOne teaspoon lemon juice \n\nThen she makes the fish: \n\nTurn burner to medium-high\nCook fish for one minute on each side\nServe on pilaf\n\nI now see my reason for the fish.\n\nV\n\nFish Bone Leads to Local Man’s Death \nDan Hollman, Feb 2, 1973 \n\nJudd Larsen, resident of East Wichita, Arizona, was rushed to the Coconino County Medical Center Wednesday after complaining of severe stomach pains. Following complications from surgery to remove a trout bone found to be obstructing his colon, Mr. Larsen was put on life support, and later passed away. He is survived by his wife, Marcy, and their two cats, Seraphim and Titan. Judd was Twenty-Five years old.\n\n\nVI\n\nJane waits for the buss on Clackaw Rd, \nEast Wichita, at six thirty in the morning. \nA canary flies over head and the air smells peaceful. \nShe boards the school bus without incident. \n\nVII\n\nOdin works in mysterious ways. \n", "I prayed, I’m not sure why I prayed, but I did. I knelt down and prayed, like really prayed for the first time in my life. Yes, I had gone through the motions, but I never really tried to talk to god, but for once, I needed guidance, I needed help, I needed forgiveness. \n\nI never believe in a greater evil, I just thought there was us, and true, some of us were better than others, but in the end, it was just us. The priest could drone on, warning about evil, but I never listened. Then evil touched me. It engulfed me and made me do terrible things. I watched, bound to my brain, helpless as evil used my hands, my voice, my anger to inflict suffering on others. As others died, perished, fell, I watched with dead eyes. \n\n\nInside myself I battled, I fought with every fiber of my being the evil that had inhabited my body. I fought until tears streamed from my face and I won. I won, I vanquished evil. And then I prayed for forgiveness. I was someone else, I was something else, I was not myself. I prayed to the omniscient, omnicognizant god for a second chance, I prayed for forgiveness, I prayed for anything. \n\n\nGod gave me a rotten fish head and told me to “fuck off.” \n", "Useee meee...\n\nSasuki blinked, looking around his family's small, cozy kitchen in the Osakan suburbs.\n\nUseee meeee, Sasukiii...\n\n\"Okay, now you're just freaking me out,\" the teenager said, then called out in a louder voice, \"If that's you, imouto, no, I don't want to use you. I love you, little sis, but not in that way.\"\n\nYourrr poweeer isss purrrrity...\n\nSasuki realized what was talking: a raw, unprepared marlin on the table, ready for a deboning and the fry pot, apparently.\n\nThe teenager looked around the room. \"Where the hell did that come from?\"\n\nI ammm a mossst diviiiine fisssh...\n\n\"Okay, if I have to put up with and accept this, you need to talk like a normal person, fish spirit.\"\n\nThe marlin flopped once or twice. I understand. it said clearly and concisely.\n\n\"Better.\" Sasuki nodded. Then he freaked out, \"A talking spiritfish!!\"\n\nThe neighbors next door smacked the walls, yelling, \"Hey, keep your weird family business to your own walls!\"\n\nSasuki hopped up and bowed to the wall. \"Yes, of course. I am so so sorry. It won't happen again.\" He darted to the fish. \"How dare you embarrass my family like that!\"\n\nThe walls were pounded again. \"Hey!\"\n\n\"Sorry!\" Sasuki turned back to the fish to say in a softer voice, \"What are you doing possessing my delicious dinner?\"\n\nI am not your dinner, Sasuki, Son of Tomoki, descendant of an ancient line of warriors known as the Fishermen.\n\n\"Wow,\" Sasuki said, \"you're really talking to me right now, fish spirit.\"\n\nDuh. Fish spirit said. But I am not speaking to you through my mouth or gills, Sasuki of the Fishermen. We are connected mind-to-mind. You are hearing me in your own mind, through a most fishy spiritual link every Fisherman has with his fishsticks.\n\nSasuki laughed and laughed.\n\nWhat? Why do you laugh?\n\n\"Oh, nothing,\" the teenager wiped away his tears. \"It's just my ancestor's choice of terminology didn't hold up well with age and modern times.\"\n\nNevertheless, Fish spirit said. I am your fishstick--\n\n\"Lame. Rewrite. I'm not going around calling you my school lunch.\"\n\nFish spirit sighed. Fine, whatever. Will 'Divine Marlin Blade' satisfy your modernity?\n\n\"Okay,\" Sasuki said, \"I can accept you're a talking fish and all, but you're a weapon, too? That's a little...strange.\"\n\nFish spirit was undeterred. I am known as Gan-za-ne, the Sword That Separated the Seven Seas.\n\n\"Cool.\"\n\nIt is not merely 'cool', Sasuki of the Fisherman. I am your sword, now. As I was the sword of your ancestors, who were most divine, and carved this world into islands, continents and seas with their skill.\n\nAt the end of that conversation, Sasuki had gotten a juice box out of the fridge, talking around the straw. \"Uh,huh. So, why are you bothering me with this, now?\"\n\nBecause, Sasuki, your duty as a Fisherman has come.\n\nSasuki drained his juice box, which made that empty slurping sound as he kept probing the empty box with the straw for the last few drops. \"And what if I tell you I don't want to?\" He asked the fish spirit. \"I have exams next week.\"\n\nYou have little choice, Sasuki. You must now pick me up and wield me by my tailfin, for danger draws near.\n\n\"Danger?\"\n\nThe ceiling exploded inwards, and Sasuki leapt away from the debris.\n\n\"What in the holy crap! Our roof!!\"\n\n\"Hey, you!\" The neighbors banged on the walls. \"What do you think you're doing over there!\"\n\nSasuki called back, \"Nothing! Nothing, sir. Just a roof leak. Ha ha ha...\"\n\nThe debris cloud cleared, revealing a beautiful young female ninja Sasuki's age.\n\nHoly crap, she's hot! Sasuki thought.\n\nThe teenaged female ninja was wielding a mackerel in each hand.\n\nOh hell. Sasuki realized.\n\n\"Sasuki of the Fishermen!\" the beautiful ninja yelled. \"I have come to defeat you, and finally reclaim the Gan-za-ne your ancestors stole from my family!\n\nYeah! Left Mackerel said. Get some!\n\nLord Gan-za-ne, Right Mackerel said. It is an honor to cross fins with you again.\n\n\"Fish spirit...\" Sasuki was nearly in tears at the madness. \"Do you know these, um...people?\"\n\nYes, Gan-za-ne said. That is Ma-shen and Ma-shin, the Port and Starboard Fins of Justice.\n\n\"Okay,\" Sasuki said, \"but who's the hot chick?\"\n\n\"What!\" said chick yelled.\n\nThe walls nearly caved in. \"WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON OVER HERE, YOU TWISTED FREAKS!!!\"\n\nSasuki flinched.\n\nAh, Gan-za-ne informed the teenaged boy. She is of the Anglers. A rival clan to your Fisherman.\n\n\"That's right, Fish Lord!\" She did a fancy show with her fish, striking a combat-ready pose. \"My name is Ayami, of the Anglers! And I have come to settle an ancient dispute!\" She pointed Ma-shen at Sasuki. \"Pick up Gan-za-ne to defend yourself, Son of Fishermen! And make ready for death!\"\n\nDo not worry, assured Gan-za-ne. Wield me, and you will see our combined power.\n\n\"Uh... Okay?\"\n\nSasuki picked the talking marlin up by its tailfin. The spiritfish sword's scales lit up in divine light, basking the kitchen with its radiance. Enough to spill out through the windows and into the neighbor's houses.\n\n\"SASUKI MIYAMOTO!!\" The neighbors roared. \"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU NOW!\"\n\nSasuki snapped his eyes away from Gan-za-ne's brilliance. \"Oh shit!\"\n\n\"Hah!\" Ayami the female ninja called, leaning forward. \"Die, fool!\" She leapt towards Sasuki, fish wielded.\n\nAnd so started the many trials of Sasuki of the Fisherman, destined for a most fishy life.\n\n\n", "I had a fish. But I didn't know how to fish.\n\nI had been on the island for six days. There was a little freshwater spring (by the grace of the Lord, amen), but no food. Tough, unchewably woody brush that made a decent shelter but made my stomach cramp throughout one long, terrible night.\n\nThat had been my second night, though. The first night I was sick with worry, and the whole next day I was brimming with an irrational optimism which coalesced and took form around one simple concept: fish. Fish. Fish.\n\nI'm surrounded by ocean. I'm surrounded by fish, was the thought which gleefully ping-ponged through my head all day.\n\nBut I didn't know how to fish. My attempts at making a spear fell flat. I couldn't figure out how to make a line from the remains of my clothing. When I finally did get a sharp bit of rock tied to a thread suspended from a long segment of woody vine, it just fell off in the water as soon as I tried casting it.\n\nAnd so I prayed. I prayed for fish. And on the seventh day, my prayers were answered. I awoke, and there it was, just lying in the sand next to me, meters from the water's edge. A fish. It was fresh, not rancid, seemingly just caught. I practically wept as I prepared it, offering up thanks for the tiny shred of unexpected provenance. I have never eaten any meal that tasted as good as that barely cooked, unseasoned fish.\n\nBut. I still don't know how to fish.\n\nIt's the thirteenth day, and I'm hungry again. Every fiber of my being is dedicated to praying there is another fish tomorrow. Every thought I have. Every motion, every word to myself. Fish. Fish. Fish.\n\nI haven't even begun to think about what I might do otherwise.", "Last Wish\n\nBy Steven Carlton\n\n\n“It’s a fish,” Kimberly said, looking at the silver body in her hands.\n\n“Yes, it is,” said the angelic figure standing in front of her.\n\n“A fish,” she repeated, as if maybe the angel had not quite heard her correctly the first time.\n\nA sigh as heavy as time flowed from the angel. “Yes,” it said. “I know. It says right here on this little clipboard I have. Fish. You are Kimberly Green, right?”\n\n“You asked me that already,” Kimberly said. “I don’t get it. What am I supposed to do with…”\n\n“Not my problem, sweetheart,” the angel snapped, waving its clipboard at her. “I get the assignments, I carry out the assignments, end of story. You’re the one with free will, not me, sister. If the form says to grant you a fish, then that’s what I do.”\n\n“I didn’t ask anyone or anything for a fish,” Kimberly insisted.\n\nThe angel stared at her. “We don’t make mistakes, honey,” it said.\n\n“Tell that to the platypus,” Kimberly quipped.\n\n“Excuse me?”\n\n“Nothing.”\n\nThe angel sighed again. “Listen, it says right here that you wished on the first star of evening for a fish. Something about a fish that would make some boy like you. Is he a fishmonger, or something?”\n\n“Wish,” Kimberly said. “I didn’t ask for a fish. I wished on the first star of evening, yeah. I did that lots of times, but I never asked for a fish. I wished that the wish I wished come true.”\n\n“Is that some kind of mantra?” the angel asked, deadpan. “The wish that you wished. You wished that the wish you wished…it’s silly. It’s a star. Same as the sun. That particular one is twenty-six lightyears away. You’re probably too young to realize it…”\n\n“I’m thirty-nine,” Kimberly interrupted.\n\n“…but the light from that star is already twenty-six years old,” the angel went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Now, we angels aren’t physical so we’re not subject to the speed-of-light limitation, which is why I’m here, now, at this moment, granting your wish. For a fish.”\n\n“So…you’re here to grant a wish that I made twenty-six years ago,” Kimberly said. “When I was thirteen. You’re here to grant it now.”\n\n“Hey, I’m not the one wishing on stars that are so far away,” the angel snorted. \n\n“What about all the other wishes I made?” Kimberly asked. “I must have wished on a star a thousand times. Are you telling me that an angel is going to show up here every so often for the rest of my life to grant those wishes, too?”\n\n“One fulfilled wish per customer,” the angel said.\n\n“And the wish you decided to grant was for a goddamned fish?”\n\n“Language, young lady,” the angel chided. “You shouldn’t get so angry. Some people don’t get even this much. They wish that they hadn’t said something or that they’d get to go to summer camp. Dumb stuff. But you…well, I got nothing. A fish is pretty dumb, too.”\n\n“No, this is dumb! Who decides which wish to grant, anyway? Huh? Is there anyone in charge up there?”\n\n“Whoops! Look at the time,” the angel suddenly said, looking at its bare wrist. “Got another appointment to keep. Lots of fish to deliver. Better luck next time!” There was a bright flash.\n\nKimberly blinked away spots in her vision. She was alone again, standing in her kitchen, holding a fish. She stood there a few minutes, just staring down at her gift, thinking that at any moment it would vanish or that she would wake up. Neither event happened, and she was a pragmatic woman. She had learned that lesson the hard way, growing up poor and hungry, lonely and afraid, wishing every night that someone, or some thing, would come and rescue her from her miserable childhood. Finally, her shoulders sagged with defeat. She turned to the counter and picked up a knife.\n\nHalf an hour later, the front door opened. Her two children came thundering into the house. Her teenage son, glowering as usual, stomped angrily upstairs to his room without acknowledging her. Her daughter, not quite a teenager but already dressing like her idols did in their music videos, threw open the fridge and got out a soda. Popping it open, she asked, “What’s for dinner, Mom?”\n\n“My hopes and dreams,” Kimberly said bitterly.\n\n“What?”\n\n“Fish. We’re eating fish.”\n\n“Jeeze, Mom! You know I can’t eat fish! I’m a vegan!”\n\nKimberly gripped the knife tightly in her hand and talked herself, yet again, out of violence. She glanced up through the window over the sink. The stars were beginning to appear. Smiling thinly, she picked the brightest one and made a wish.\n", "When momma got sick, Dewey and I prayed every morning and night for her to get better. Daddy said she got the cancer, and that the doctor was gonna fix her up good. \n\nI was eleven years old, then. She died last week, on my thirteenth birthday. \n\nWhen we buried her, Dewey and I prayed again, but we prayed to God and Jesus, and even the god the Jews and the Muslims pray to, and the fat Asian man called Buttocks. We prayed for momma to come home. \n\nDon't tell Dewey, but sometimes I wonder if anyone is listening at all.\n\nYesterday, I was walking down the street when a fish fell from the sky and hit me in the face. I killed it, skinned it, and me, Dewey and Daddy had him for supper. But my momma ain't no fish." ]	8
Thousands of people every day open up cans of whoop-ass. You are the one who makes them.	[WP] You are the canner of whoop-ass.	[ "It was a quiet day at the plant. I watched from the door to the break room as machines chugged along-\n\nBANG CLANG BRSSSH CLANK BBRRRSSHH BANG\n\nI'm just here to maintain the thing, make sure it works. Sometimes I get to catch some of the littler woops that manage to sneak through the cracks, but normally they don't get through.\n\nCans stack themselves with the help of mecha arms while little roller pallets drag the stacks to the warehouse. In a few hours another shipment truck will take some away to super stores, where they'll be bought by haggard mothers and teachers or anyone who needs a little discipline. \n\nI look to the left at the Woop hopper. A myriad of tan peach-shapes squirm and wriggle, looking for a path to freedom. Some bounce up and down, most just squeak. It sounds a little like a phone, but quieter and off tempo. The Woop silo waits, feeding in small clusters of Woop every minute or two.\n\nI watch as the machines take them, ram them down into freshly minted metal cylinders, and seal the lids. They squeal louder, but studies have verified that hey feel no pain. Woops just get mad when confined to tight spaces. Their pent up energy gets released in the form of screaming and kinetic motion. A well applied can feels like a smack to the face. We once sold it as a joke product, but... I suppose its practicality just made it work.\n\nThe woops in the silo all came from Woop fields surrounding the building. There's no windows, but I do see the sky light. From that angle I can see the Woop elevator that separates the plant clusters from angry clusters. Plant Woops aren't edible, but when ground up make excellent sawdust or fertilizer. Those remains get funneled elsewhere. \n\nThe Woop plant actually has an interesting history, when you think about it. It's like a carrot, partitioned into several little plant fragments and a squirming top. The top scared away birds in the old days, and townsfolk would sometimes tie strings to Woops to create dream catchers, but overall they fell out of style during the bubonic plague era. Pop culture have them a resurgence, and my job- I just hope it keeps going.\n\nA Woop lands fifty feet to my right. I grab it and toss it back into the hopper.\n\nIt's just another day at the whoop-ass factory.\n\n ", "\"Hey, Hogan.\"\n\n\"Yeah, Brother?\" Hogan was pulling his his back on after two hours on the line, sweat instantly soaked the thin, yellow fabric. \n\n\"Dwayne and Sylvester had to trade some shifts. Can you talk with Tureaud and find a way to fill the slot on Saturday?\" I check the schedule once more to make sure I have everything right. It was a nightmare to get people on normal shifts around here. It takes a lot of work to get qualified packers but I pride myself on the workforce that has been managed so far. \n\n\"Sure thing, Brother.\" Hogan said as he wrapped his red bandanna around his head.\n\nWell, one more thing taken care of. I check the next page. Arnold and Diesel were on for tomorrow morning, then Weaver and Wahlburg in the afternoon. Trejo and Fishburn had obligations for the next two weeks so He had to have Norris work the line on Sundays by himself. Not every person could handle that job by themselves, but Norris had been at this a while. It's why he was a supervisor. \n\n\"Hey Hogan, you seen Crews?\"\n\n\"He hit the showers.\" Hogan nodded with a fist up near his face, \"Hear the p-p-p-p-power, brother?\"\n\nI could hear the faint sound of repeated explosions, \"Right, of course.\"\n\n\"The Hulk is out, Brother.\" Hogan ripped his yellow shirt back off and walked out the door, \"YEAH!\"\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are a failed test for a cloning project. The lab technicians who created you are about to kill you.	[ "\"Is it even human?\"\n\nThe words come floating down from above me. At least, I think they are above me. My skin feels wet. Wait, I think? I...feel? I know these words, but how do I know them?\n\n\"Of course it is. Come on Cathy, how could it be anything else?\"\n\nAgain, definitely above me. How do I know? I need to get my bearings. Wait, there is something...eyes. I have eyes. Eyes see. Why can't I see anything? It's so dark...Oh, eyelids, I have those too. My eyes must be...closed? Yes, closed. How do I know these words?\n\n\"Of course, you're right. It's just...I don't know. What are we doing here, Jim?\"\n\nJim? And the other one. Cathy? Yes, Cathy. Names. Those are their names. Why do I know what names are? My name is...What is my name? I should have one, right? That is normal, having a name. How do I know what is normal?\n\n\"I know you have had issues with this project from the start, but we are working to make the world a better place. Mr. Brightwall...\"\n\nBrightwall? That's...Me? Brightwall. Johnathan Brightwall. That is my name. Pain. Excruciating pain. Where? My head? Why? What is...\n\n\"I know we are supposed to discard the failed experiments, but the closer we come to success, the more it feels like murder.\"\n\nMy head, it burns. Everything is swirling, I am tumbling a dozen directions at once. I see flashes of light. Light? My eyes are still closed, right?\n\n\"I know it can be difficult, but they aren't even...\"\n\nMore pain. My ears are assaulted with noise. Blaring, pulsing...An alarm. What is an alarm?\n\n\"Jim, look! I...I don't believe it. It's waking up.\"\n\n\"Impossible.\"\n\nThe flashes of light settle into a white haze. The tumbling has settled. That blasted alarm is still going off though.\n\n\"Will you shut that thing off?\" I said, surprised at how easily the words come, at how my tongue obeys my commands. I hear a thud. Now what was that? I try to raise my eyelids. More pain, lancing in through my eyes all the way to the back of my head. Never one to give up, I try again. How do I know that I never give up? There, the light burns my eyes, but I can make out two dark blurs against the white haze. Slowly, they come into focus. One is laying on the ground, obviously passed out. How is that obvious? How do I know...\n\n\"We did it.\"\n\nA second thud, this time I see the body fall. Great, now it will take even longer to turn off that alarm.\n\nHow do I know that?", "I am a clone of Doctor Murderstein. I was created by one of his enemies under the assumption we'd engage in asymmetrical combat and destroy each other. For simplicity's sake, I'm just going to call myself Doctor Murderstein. I know because I have his memories and thoughts that he considers us a composite being of the same personality stretched over multiple bodies. It's confusing, being a clone. I've only just stepped out of the cloner, a brand new life that didn't exist moments before, and I have perfect recollection of my previous self. I'm simultaneously seconds old and in my thirties. I'm simultaneously blinking the sleep out of my eyes, yet I've been up for days and have a perfect recollection of everything leading up to here. I'm about thirteen seconds old and trying to get the specifics of my existence hammered out.\n\nAcross the lab from me the other Doctor Murderstein was tied to a giant magnifying glass and looking bored. Our enemy, the time-traveling Herman Melville and author of Moby Dick, worked busily at arrays of steampunk looking machines while monologuing at my other self.\n\n\"You really didn't think any of this out, Herman.\" My other self said from his spot on the glass. \"I mean, you've tied me to a giant magnifying glass. It's night time. And you've already told me you want to make me fight my clone to the death, so why are you tying me to something else supposed to kill me? This is stupid. You're stupid.\"\n\nWe exchanged a few glances, but talking between us just seemed weird, so I mostly ignored myself. Herman ignored the original, but turned to me. \"You,\" he said \"you cut the Doctor down, and you fight him to the death.\"\n\n\"No, Herman, you really didn't think this through.\" All of my hate for Herman Melville came bubbling to the surface. The fool, he'd had me dead to rights, and now he's set me loose in his own lab with a second body because he couldn't be bothered to read the instructions for a cloning machine a better mad scientist than he had built. He looked at me confused. \"Duh, Herman,\" I said, and pointed to the original Doctor Murderstein \"We're both Doctor Murderstein.\"\n\nHerman shook his head and bellowed \"I am your creator and you will obey me!\"\n\n\"Why?\" I asked. \"Why would I ever want to fight myself to the death just because you've run off an exact copy of me?\" Both of me asked him in unison. Something was making Herman highly uncomfortable as I walked closer to him. \"If the original me wants to kill you as bad as I do/he does, then why wouldn't I? All you've done is make an exact copy of someone willing to crawl over hot coals and broken glass for a chance to strangle you.\"\n\nHerman finally seemed to understand his mistake. The time traveling pain in my ass was centuries out of his depth and primitive notions about machines and concepts he didn't understand had delivered him up to me once again. \"Then I'll just have to kill both of you,\" he said, and picking up a whaling spear he charged at me. It was odd though, because he seemed to be trying to kill me without actually looking at me. He shouted, and tried to drive the spear into my guts.\n\n\"Hey Herman you missed me!\" My other self shouted from his spot on the magnifying glass. Herman was distracted and faltered at the last moment. I sidestepped the tip of the spear, tripping Herman as he ran past. He sprawled out on the floor a few feet away. I wrenched the armrest off a nearby chair and tackled the bigger man as he was getting up. He screamed and thrashed and shouted for me to get off him. He screamed as I started swinging the arm of the chair at his head, and I didn't stop swinging it until all that remained of Herman Melville from the neck up was a greasy stain on the ground. \n\n\"Couldn't have done it better myself.\" The other Doctor Murderstein said from the magnifying glass. I threw the arm rest down and left the cooling corpse of Herman Melville behind me so I could go untie myself. We'd see him again; you couldn't really kill time travelers. \n\n\"We've killed him like at least three times a year for the last decade and a half.\" I said to myself as I worked on the knots on my ankles. One thing you had to give Herman was that he could tie knots. \"He's never freaked out about it like that. What's his problem this time?\" I looked up when my other self burst out laughing hysterically.\n\n\"Yeah, man, but we've never grappled with him and beaten his brains out while stark naked.\"\n\nI looked down and, indeed, I was as naked as the day I was born." ]	2
	[WP] A story that could actually happen.	[ "There was Timmy and he was friends with Taylor. They played all kinds of fun music together. They learned how to have as much enjoyment as possible. The good that came from their relationship was strong. They could not be let down. Everything was positive and anything could happen. There was pure magic and an infinite number of probabilities.", "A familiar yet unappealing air rose from the streets, an oppressive cloud of sweat and chemicals that filled every open space that it could invade. It hung heavily as I waded through its invisible muck with a purpose, guided by the thoughts of a successful interview that lay just ahead. Fleeting thoughts of the sweat rolling down the back of my neck and the horrid stench of the city clinging to me entered my mind. Picking up the pace, I wove through the crowd as though I were intangible, firmly gripping the briefcase in my hand to avoid its theft. I was so close that I could see the entrance at the end of the street, its limpid panes beckoning from afar.\n\nAn older gentleman exited the bakery on 27th at precisely eight fifteen with a loose dusting of crumbs in the corners of his lips and the scent of arabica beans clinging to his taste-buds. Stopping for a moment, he adjusted his tie and began walking down the street with no set destination in mind. Instead his thoughts were filled with his morning breakfast and the lunch that was to come. He was a larger man, sweating profusely in the harsh heat as he dabbed at his reddening face with a used napkin. With several pardons and excuses, he made his way through the bustling crowd that seemed to have places they needed to be hours ago.\n\nI wasn't paying attention to where I was going as my mind wandered through a mock interview that I had staged in my head. We drew closer to one another until I hit him at last. My briefcase fell from my hands and he came to a halt as I apologized over and over again. My complexion matched his by the time I worked up enough nerve to pick up the scuffed case lying on the ground. What surprised me most was the fact that he dismissed it as an every day occurrence or as though it meant little to nothing in the grand scheme of his day. In my mind, the sky was falling, the day was ruined, the jig was up, and I had hit rock bottom. Without another word or even a shred of conflict, he moved along and I never even learned his name.\n\n-171", "When you fuck up something important, it's accompanied by a split second of shock. \n \nDave starred at the object in his hands. He twisted it left and right, but it just didn't work anymore. \n\n\"Hey Dave, why are we going left?\" \n\nDave held up the joystick detached from the control panel.\n\nLenny had the same look on his face. The wheels were still turning but the hamster was dead. \"Well, make it turn right anyway.\" \n\n\"I can't make it turn right. A thing like this breaks I can't just fix it. I can't argue with the control panel!\" \n\n\"Well, what do we do?\" \n\n\"Parachutes?\" \n\n\"What about the cargo?\" \n\n\"Screw the cargo, it will be fine. It has safety measures.\" \n\n\"If you're wrong, the parachutes won't matter.\" \n\nDave bit back, \"No time, I'll take my chances.\" \n\nHe put on the parachute and jumped. Lenny was alone. \n\nThe plane began a steeper turn to the left, and it was getting hard to walk around the plane. Lenny got to the cargo and pried off the panel. Big letters read, HANDLE WITH CARE. Engineers with a sense of humor. Like anyone who was handling a nuclear device was going to forget that. \n\nLenny started to loose his feet, and the engines were spinning up. Gravity was starting to fail as the plane nosed down into a dive. \n\nHe twisted the ignition cap. His fingers could barely reach it. One turn, two, three. He lost it. With his left hand he pulled himself closer. His fingers made contact, and he put in one more turn. He had it!\n\nThe ignition cap came off and fell out. It cut his cheek as it whizzed past his head. Everything in the plane fell up towards the ceiling and scattered. Lenny pulled himself forward in the zero gravity. The engines gave a high pitched whine as they spun faster towards the earth. He pulled himself towards the doors, which now seemed so far away. \n\nHe pulled himself up, and saw daylight. He threw his body over the side and was whisked away into the open air. The huge chunk of metal careened past him at the fast approaching ground. Lenny got his other arm through the parachute straps and pulled the chord. \n\nHe was jerked upwards hard, and he dangled unnaturally. He hadn't buckled it properly, so nothing held him secure. His gaze was forced upwards at the parachute for a few seconds, then he impacted the ground hard. The world went dark.\n\n\"Hey! You still with me?\" \n\nLenny looked up at Dave, then at the burning inferno that used to be a plane. \n\n\"Whose idea was it to transfer nuclear weapons by plane?\" \n\nDave laughed, \"I donno, but the general has to be kicking himself right now! Man, people would just go nuts if they knew we almost accidentally dropped a nuke on our own country.\"\n\n- - - -\n\nOkay, I cheated. This [did actually happen](http://www.huffingtonpost.com/roadtrippers/that-one-time-america-accidentally-dropped-a-nuke-on-south-carolina_b_6041794.html). " ]	3
	[WP] You are at a blind person's birthday party. He misidentifies presents as he opens them, and no one has the heart to tell him.	[ "Little Daniel is dying of cancer. This might well be his last birthday party. His eyesight has already gone, but his mind is still functioning. His father smiles as Daniel opens his last present. His fingers dance over the product, and he shouts in joy. \"Cool! The iPhone 6!\" \nNobody had the heart to tell poor Daniel that he was holding an iPhone 4. ", "Olof lost his sight in a tragic accident at a very young age. One stormy day he was out practicing his rebounds on the basketball court before the rain came down. But Young Olof forgot that there could still be lightning without rain and he was struck down once and struck again right after. The doctors said he was burned over 90% of his body and was lucky to be alive. Olof wore full body bandages for three whole months and was scheduled to get them off on his 13th birthday. His family threw him a party in the hospital room and Olof began opening his presents while waiting for the doctor to come and remove the bandages. He knew Just by feeling his gifts he got a firetruck, a new basketball, new shoes, and even a phone; but he didn't get what he wanted the most. Dispite being wrapped like a mummy his mother knew Olof wasn't very happy \"whats wrong dear?\" she asked. \"I didn't get the thing that I wanted the most\" mumbled Olof. \"And what would that be sweetie?\" \"The new reptilliano sunglasses with the green mirrored finish! I would look so cool in those! I really really wanted them and after all that I have been through I think I should get them!\" Olof said in a muffled fit of rage. \"Sweetie I.. I.. I don't think\" his mother Just couldn't find the words. At that moment the doctor walked in the room with a pair of scissors and a small cloth bag. \"Olof your mother and father got you something far better than those sunglasses they got you these\" the doctor said as he placed the bag in Olof's hand. \"Go ahead open it!\" said the doctor with enthusiasm. Olof reached into the bag and felt two small glass balls and rolled them around in his hands. \"You got me marbles!\" Olof was now screaming in rage under the bandages. \"Not marbles Olof, those are your new eyes sweetie\" \"My my my what?\" The reality sunk in and Olof realized he would never need to wear sunglasses again.\n\n\n\n\nI know this is super super sloppy but its the first time I have written anything in over a year so go easy on me lol" ]	2
	[WP]: A man induces schizophrenia because he feels isolated and lonely due to the repeated failings of his past friends and family and feels himself to only be worthy of his friendship and forgiveness.	[ "James was trying to spend some time alone in the lab but Walter refused to go, he had already told Walter to leave.\n\n\n“I thought I told you to leave.”\n\n\nSee.\n\n\n“You did,” replied Walter “but I’m not going anywhere.”\n\n\n“Fine, but you aren’t going to stop me. I’ve been let down too many times. I need someone I can talk to and trust. Someone I can get along with. Someone who understands me.”\n\n\n“I understand you. I’ve been your friend for years, why do you think all of a sudden that we aren’t friends?”\n\n\n“Why? Because I heard you talking about me. I heard it. You spend your time with our other ‘friends’ and make fun of me behind my back.”\n\n\n“I spend time with them, yes, but I don’t talk bad about you.”\n\n\n“Yes you do! Why are you lying to me?” James turned and looked at the lab table with an assortment of syringes on it “you know what? It doesn’t matter now, I have a solution”\n\n\n“Another magic ‘solution’ to your problems?”\n\n\n“It isn’t magic, I’ve been working on it for a while.” James picked up a syringe with a colourless foggy liquid inside.\n\n\n“What is it this time?”\n\n\n“It’s medication that effects dopamine levels in the brain. It uses protein markers to find specific kinds of brain cells and increase their dopamine absorption. When those cells get too much dopamine the patient starts seeing and hearing people that aren’t there. In layman’s terms, it induces schizophrenia”\n\n\n“Why wou-“\n\n\n“Why would I do it? Because I am the only person I can trust. I am intelligent and insightful. I’m funny and kind and I NEED someone who gets me. Someone who won’t let me down.”\n\n\n“And you thi-“\n\n\n“And I think that the best man for the job, is me. Another me. A second me. So this is how I’m going to do it.”\n\n\n“You don’t need to do this. I love you. Sarah loves you. Maggie, Crystal, and Eric all love you. Please don’t do this a-“\n\n\n“There is no turning back” James interrupted. He took the syringe and injected the concoction into his veins. Pain hit him hard. The room started to spin and then went black.\n\n\nJames awoke on the floor and stood up slowly. He looked across the lab and there sat all his friends around a table joking and laughing. Amongst them however was a new face. Someone he had never seen before. As he approached the table they stopped talking and moved their gazes towards him.\n\n\n“Who is this?” James asked signaling the new companion. “You all find another friend to replace me?”\n\n\n“No, of course not” said Walter “You made this new friend to replace US.”\n", "The hardest part of brilliance is loneliness. There really isn’t anyone to talk to if you are the foremost neurosurgeon. Jason had already driven away almost everyone in his life. His wife was essentially a stranger. His colleagues revered him but kept their distance. For a while he tried to blur the lines, unfocus his mind, and with the aid of copious amount of alcohol, interact with the chattel that was the everyday plebeian. That didn’t work for long. Sometimes suicide felt like the only option. The isolation was making him feel… unstable. \n\nLooking back, the solution seemed so simple. The best way to stay stable was to interact with someone who was his equal. His equal was him so why not simply make more? Cloning would take too long. But recent studies on the arp2/3 gene indicated that schizophrenia could be induced in mice. A simple knock-down of the gene in humans may have a similar effect. Viral vectors could express the RNA to silence the gene. Such a simple solution. \n_______\nJason felt like Jason’ was the perfect companion… at first. But then came along Jason’’ and he was very critical of everything Jason did. Jason’’’ wanted to be called Justin. Justin was strong but very shortsighted. He was judgmental but wasn’t willing to sit back and let things go by. Soon Jason’ was vying with Justin for the most time with Jason. The gene silencing mechanism could not be reversed but Jason could excise Justin manually. But that would mean removing Jason’ as well. Jason didn’t want to lose Jason’ so soon. Things were just too pleasant when he was around. Then Justin seemed to stop caring. \n_______\nJason started to wake up without any recollection of the previous hours. Jason’ slowly disappeared. Jason ‘’ showed little interest in talking to Jason. Soon days started going missing. The negative outcomes in his OR were increasing. Some of the scrub nurses quit. There were whispers all around him. His wife threatened to leave. Justin started talking to him again. The things he said were twisted but the way he said them made Jason almost start to believe he was right. \n_______\nThe baby was beautiful. But she wasn’t perfect. He could make her perfect. Justin showed him how to make her mind the perfect mind. \nUntil she took her away. \n______\nWhy save this mind? It isn’t even close to perfect. It is just a waste. This operation is not worth our time. It isn’t worth our effort. It is beneath us. Jason should know better. Jason should just go away. \n_____\nMelissa walked into the office with the divorce papers. She hoped Jason would just sign and let them go quietly. Having a baby was supposed to fix their marriage. Instead she found him sticking needles into their daughter and professing how he would make her perfect. \nThere was no one in the office. She checked his calendar; he shouldn’t be in the OR right now. Perhaps he got called into an emergent surgery. She went to the OR. There was no one there, not even the scrub nurses. One of the lights was on in OR3. She looked through the observation window, dropped her papers and rushed in without scrubbing. \n______\nJason’ was gone but Jason was still fighting him. No matter. Soon he’ll have removed all of Jason as well. Just a little more on the left. \n______\nMelissa braced herself before entering the room. They'd patched him up, but he was still covered in tubes. Finding him like that. Babbling about himself while surrounded by his own blood and gray matter was a thing of nightmares. It would haunt her for the rest of her life. She didn’t understand what could’ve possessed him to cut into his own brain. The other doctors were saying he finally snapped under the pressure of the job. But they hadn’t been the ones to drag the instruments out of his hands. \n\nHis eyes fluttered open. \n\n“Look darling, daddy’s awake,” Melissa said. “How are you feeling, Jason?”\n\nJustin stared at Melissa, and then at their little girl. \n\n“Everything is perfect.”\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] A retired person sits on their porch on a hot day.	[ "I quickly put on my leather shoes, glancing at the time as I waited for the toast to pop out so I can get to work on time and not have Jim yell at me for.. Oh.. Silly me.\n\nI hastily removed my leather shoes the tie I was currently wearing and approached the toaster and waited for the toast to pop out. I took out a bottle of some nice bourbon and poured myself some as I went outside to my porch, toast and bourbon still in hand.\n\nI sat down and peered over at the fence as the morning sun forced the sweat out of me. I wasn't used to actually sitting down and relaxing. Somehow I felt I didn't enjoy it as much as I could. \n\nFor the last 20 years all I did was walk the same path to the same place, deal with the same boss, over, and over, and over, and over, and over until finally my boss, Jim, says\n\"Look Gary you're almost 65, I know you've been here for over 2 decades but it's time that you retired and enjoy the rest of your days\" \n\nI could still work, I still had a spring in my step outclassing even my youngest coworkers, but no, I'm just here sitting on my porch, drinking bourbon while chewing on some toast, on the hottest July of the last decade.\n\nI ruffled my hair as I looked over to my neighbor, Christopher, and his dog, Bone who as usual was taking a shit on my lawn.\n\nWhere did my life go, I thought. \n\nI spent the rest of the day, going to and from my personal collection of bourbon and a host of other whiskeys as I got more and more depressed. \n\nAs the sun was finally setting and the day was finally getting cooler, I thought for a second, looked at my neighbor and his stupid dog and went back inside.", "Our star’s heartbeat pulses greatly it’s radiant warmth.\nTheir home shines today.\nAs I am rocked effortlessly by this soothing armchair. I wait beside my love. \nWaiting for them to return and reveal to us the truest vision of the rest of our lives\n\nOur lives. \nBefore, it was My life. \nSeems like ages ago \nLife began anew when my Love found me\n \nNow, after sharing a life of innumerable beauty together, \nWe are both awesomely astonished at the infinite possibilities that lie ahead.\n\nWe sit comfortably in our elder years. \nWe were never afraid to work. \nThat work came to an end.\nWe gladly welcome new beginnings. \n\nI see them first.\nMy eyes aren’t as tired as my Love’s these day.\nThe car pulls in. \n\nShe steps out. \nThe beauty my love and I raised.\nThe godly radiance of the day is challenged by her glow. \n\nClenching my loves hand, our hearts jump as she walks up to the cloud white pourch.\nHolding lovingly the new joy in the world, she whipsers, \n\n“It’s a girl...”", "A retired person sits on their porch on a hot day.\nThe cool breeze comes off the ocean,\nHer pressed dress dances and sways,\nThe air was full of non commotion.\n\nSuddenly a black cloud came abound,\nRain began to gush from the aboves,\nThe sound of thunder howled like a great hound,\nAnd the sky lit up\nlike a stove.\n\nMaggie jumped out of her chair,\nAnd tried to make it inside,\nBut before she knew a gust of wind took her up\nAnd away she was riding on a great big umbrella\n\nUp and up she went,\nPast the Stewarts, and the Browns,\nWhy old Maggie May, even flew past the Dotemens,\nWho lived halfway across town!\n\nHer loud voice cried out,\nAgain and again.\nBut no one heard her,\nOr so she thought.\n\nMagically she grabbed hold of a cloud,\nWhich was surprisingly fluffy,\nAnd kindly asked it to bring her home\nAnd away that cloud rode\n\nWith Maggie May on its back.\nThen the old cloud placed her down,\nSofter than a goose feather,\nAnd Maggie May proceeded to flatten her dress.\n\nAnd kindly thanked the great Cloud,\nAnd told it if he ever got lonely up there,\nTo stop by and chat,\nShe even promised to bake him some of her famous cherry pie\n\n\n\n\n\nNow Maggie May gets lot of visits from many clouds,\nWho have been smelling the beautiful pie smell for years,\nAnd as I bet you can guess,\nMaggie May is not retired now." ]	3
	[WP] The protagonist is the only person he/she knows that can see the shadowy figures following every single human. The closer they get, the closer that person is to death. He can see them all, that is, except his, as he can never turn around fast enough to potentially catch a glimpse of it.	[ "\"I can see them again, Tommy\" \n \n\"Again? But we got rid of them!\" \n \n\"Well they're back! Shadowy figures, this time, following along behind everyone.\" \n \n\"Goddamnit! What can we do? What worked before? Electro-shock? Chems? Prayer? How do we fix these damn things?\" \n \n\"I don't know, man. I don't know. But like, maybe it's ok this time. In the big picture, I can live with them easier than before.\" \n \n\"It doesn't get to you?\" \n \n\"It does, but... They're less distracting than the Numbers Above The Heads were...\" \n \n\"Fucking Number Above The Heads... Goddamn all the numbers above all the heads...\" \n \n\"I know Tommy. I know. Goddamn those numbers, and goddamn these shadows.\"", "In the hallway I noticed a new painting on the wall, it was a painting of the emperor with a person that resembled the foggy ghost that always followed him around everywhere. \n\nRichard, my colleague, saw that I was staring at the painting, \"He had a beautifull wife didn't he?\".\n\n\"Yes, yes he did\", I quickly moved on still not fully understanding what his previous wife had to do with the painting of the ghost. I knocked on the door of the emperor and walked in to get a briefing of what was going to happen this week. A visit to sir Verdinantes of the Spanish Kingdom, nothing really special. \n\nBack on the hallway Richard looked up to me \"Anything special this week?\". \n\n\"No, not really, standard procedures.\"\n\nRichard walked away but before he could disappear around the corner the ghost following him seemed to change. It started to turn from an old lady into a small child and back. Everytime it turned into the child it would look to me and point to Richard. \n\n\"Richard, before you leave, could you please send out this letter for me?\". I quickly wrote a note, looking at the ghost following him around. The little girl that was pointing at Richard scribbled two words on her arm and held it up for me to see before she turned back into the old lady \"Send home\". I passed the note to Richard. \"By the way Richard, since we have nothing special going on why don't you take the week off? I'm sure Evan can fill in for you\". \n\n\"Thank you Saria\".\n\n\"Saria, get back here!\" \n\nI quickly walked back to the emperor \"Yes sir?\"....\n\nA week later we returned from the Spanish Kingdom, everything went smoothly as expected. Richard was standing guard again, the ghost of the old lady now standing directly next to him. \n\nAfter my briefing Evan came up to me in the hallway. Before he could say anything, we could hear Richard scream for help. We grabbed our weapons and ran to him, but it was to late. Richard had succesfully stopped the intruder, but it was obvious very quickly that we wouldn't be able to save him. The ghost was holding Richard, and speaking softly to him, pointing at me. \n\nDespite our best efforts, the medics arrived to late. Before taking his last breaths, Richard spoke his last words, \"Thank you for saving my daughter\". ", "I always wondered why I could see them. It was almost as if they were taunting everyone with a horrible game of tag. \n\nI first told my parents about them when I was 4. Naturally, my parents response was amusement. When I told them about the shadow getting grandpa and him inexplicably dying they weren't amused. They told me not to talk about the things that I saw and to “act normal” but to me what I saw was normal. In Kindergarten my teacher asked the class to draw what we saw in the room. Some students drew the teacher and the board, and some drew other students. My drawing called for a meeting with my parents. I learned to keep what I saw to myself, or as my dad would say “suffer the consequences.” I wanted to tell him about the shadow that had its hands around his neck but bit my tongue. \nThe funeral was one of the most surreal experiences. It was also where I realized that I had my own “shadow.” At the gathering I saw each person's shadow and the way that they moved indicated that they were somehow communicating with one another. As I was watching two shadows “communicate” I could feel them look at me and “say” something in my direction. I jumped when I felt the “response.” My mother grabbed me and hugged me crying into my shoulder and I saw her shadow looking at me.\n\nMy mother became an alcoholic drinking at every opportunity and blamed me and my shadows for killing her husband. As I grew older I began to become more self-reliant and venture outside longer, only coming in after dark for dinner which often consisted of whatever I could find. The worst was that I could feel its presence around me but never see it. That nagging feeling on the back of my neck was a constant source of frustration. By the time that I was twelve, my mother and I had more of a roommate relationship than mother-son. I had a job at the local bookstore where its owners, a kind elderly couple Mr. & Mrs. Anderson, made it a second home for me. I called them my Auntie & Unc. Every day after school I would venture to Re-Tales to do my homework before I began sorting and organizing. I made sure to keep an eye on the shadows that plagued them. They came really close to Unc once and I told him to look out. Unc used to box back in the day and he taught me when there was time. Unc turned and socked the shadow in what I would call its face and it flew back across the room. We were all surprised when the books on the back shelf fell down right were the shadow was.\n\nAuntie screamed. “The Hell was that?” asked Unc startled and a bit angry. “It's the shadows”, I said. “They're always there behind everyone. You just punched yours”. That was the first time that I've seen that happen. I sat Auntie and Unc down and explained to them what I had been seeing all of my life. Auntie looked frightened and concerned and Unc still had a bit of an angry scowl when he asked, “So where is it right now”? I looked behind him and saw it standing about six-feet away from him. Unc followed my gaze and stared directly through it. “You're looking right at it.” I said. “It's about six feet in front of you.” Auntie was shivering again on the verge of tears and I hugged her looking right at her shadow about twelve feet away. Unc saw me look behind her and gave a knowing nod. There was an unspoken agreement not to tell Aunite about her own shadow. Unc still couldn't see his shadow but took steps toward it. As he did the shadow moved at the same pace in the opposite direction. “Unc it's keeping the same distance moving back as you go forward,” I said. “Is it scared?” he asked. “I don't know?” I said. “I can only sense a general idea from them. It appears cautious of you.” \n\nAuntie screamed in my ear making my head jerk back slamming into something that felt gelatinous and cold. I instantly knew what it was and backed myself against a bookshelf. “Auntie did you see it?” I asked her. Still shaking and teeth chattering she replied, “yyyyesss.” “OK Auntie,” I said, “I need to know where it is right now.” “I thought that you can see them KV,” Unc asked. “Not this one”, I said. “For years I've felt its presence but I could never see it; it was always just out of my vision. Auntie, do you still see it?” “No,” she replied. “I only saw it when I was holding you.” I rushed over to them. Unc placed a hand on my shoulder. “God, they're everywhere!” he exclaimed. “KV, Charlie's on your six!” I spun and kicked behind me but hit only air. “3' o' Clock KV” Unc cried but again I hit nothing but air. “The damn thing is laughing KV. It thinks that this is some game.” Auntie grabbed both of our arms and led us out of the bookstore and toward the church up the street. “Auntie, I've tried that,” I said. She replied, “Just come with me.” We entered the church and walked toward the altar. Auntie gave each of us a candle and prayed. She lit the candles and placed them each on the altar. I got two more candles, lit them and placed them by the other three. We sat in the pews, bowed our heads and prayed.\n\nAfter a while we looked around and saw that the candles had been burned a bit. They looked around and didn't see the shadows anymore. I still saw them, but they had a different appearance. There was an acknowledgment and they faded. I could steel feel their presence but was no longer tormented by them. I decided not to tell Auntie and Unc what I had seen.\nWe cleaned up the mess at the bookstore and before I left Auntie gave me a hug and some rosary beads. “Keep these with you,” she said and went back inside. Unc waited until she was fully inside until he began. “Is that it, KV? Are they gone?” he asked. I didn't want to lie to him but I also didn't want to alarm him. I could tell though that he could see it on my face. He grimaced and tears welled in his eyes. He hugged me tight and said, “I love you KV. I want you to always remember that we both love you OK.” I nodded my head as tears streamed from my face. Through the mist in my eyes I saw the shadows near. “Go on home now.” Unc said through gritted teeth. “Run boy!”\n" ]	3
	[WP] "You think you're still alive? And on Earth!?"	[ "\n\"So, you finally join us.\" I hear from somewhere to the side- or was it behind me?\n\nI open my eyes, intense light makes me squint my eyes, \"Who's there?\"\n\n\"Does it matter?\" comes a response.\n\nI think for a second, what the hell kind of question is that? Of course it matters! \n\n\"But, why?\" the voice questioned without me having opened my mouth. Okay that's fucking weird. \n\n\"What's the joke here?\" I ask angrily around, my curiosity over the voice mounting over my confusion about where I am. \n\n\"I can hear your thoughts.\" stated the older gentleman standing in front of me. Just behind him I could see stone and sharply defined shadows on the wall. \n\nI couldn't stop myself from raising my eyebrow skeptically \"Are you kidding me?\" The man shook his head softly and I threw my hands up in frustration. \"Great! An invasion of privacy. First I get run over on my way to HELL now some weird guy is reading my mind! Just what the hell is going on here? And for that matter where the fuck am I?\" In the course of my questions I advanced on him and realized rather quickly that close to him was somewhere I did not want to be. I wrinkled my nose and backed away abruptly- manners be damned. \n\n\"Where do you think you are?\" he furrowed his brow and cocked his head in a strangely endearing manner. I realized he was kind of alluring. \n\nI shrugged as exaggeratedly as I thought was humanly possible- \"Gee, I dunno. hell?\" I chuckled. I fully expected him to laugh but he looked at me silently. Intently. His hands were folded in front of him and he nodded. \n\n\"Very good.\" he turned on his heel and started to walk away, leaving me where ever the hell I am. I followed him quickly and at a run. My hand reached out and closed on his forearm. I yanked my hand away hissing in pain. \"I should have warned you of that.\"\n\n\"So, what do you mean that I'm in hell?\" I glanced around quickly, realizing that the light all around me was orange and dancing. It was almost like fire. \n\n\"What, do you really think you're still on earth? That you're even alive right now?\"\n\nI shuffled my feet and wrung my hands. \"okay. level with me- what happened?\"\n\n\"You died.\" he stated simply and matter of fact- as if my life wasn't over. He then retreated around the corner leaving me speechless and pissed. " ]	1
	[WP] You discover your wife is an alien. What do you do?	[ "\"Highly unusual,\" Mr. Kon said. \"I did not expect you to be so wild, young man.\" \n\nI looked up at my father, horror on my face. \"What are you talking about?\" \n\n\"Your wife, Mira, she is out of this world as they say?\" Mr. Kon rubbed his hands together. \"Quite the looker. They do good work.\" \n\n\"Are you implying my wife had plastic surgery, Mr. Kon?\" I tried to bluff. \n\n\"I am implying you married an orthopod in a human skin suite,\" Mr. Kon said. \"Why, she is a lovely woman, but I would not recommend attempting children.\" \n\nThe old man laughed. \n\n", "\"Sweetie, don't you have your social security card?\" I asked in a slightly annoyed tone. Typical Helena, leaving everything until the very last moment. \n\nShe looked at me uncomfortably, gazing up at me with those big browns eyes that made my heart melt. \"I'm sorry, I thought I packed it with me before I got into the car...You were rushing me! I got flustered.\" She was wringing her hands, a nervous habit she picked up from me. \n\nI narrowed my eyes at her. \"But... We need to have several forms of ID to get this stupid marriage certificate. We drove 45 minutes and we're already here. I didn't take off a day of work for this.\" I loved my wife, but she could be a bit... Spacey. \n\nShe furrowed her brow at me, becoming agitated with my statement. \"Well, maybe if you gave me more time, this wouldn't have happened! Always in a rush with you.\" \n\nI could tell something was off. She wasn't being completely honest with me. I took her hand, gently stroking it to relax her, \"Helena... Is there something you want to tell me?\" \n\nShe looked embarrassed. More embarrassed than I had seen her in the last 4 years we had been together. Guilty, almost. What did she do, kill someone? \n\nShe sighed, rubbing her temples, \"I don't have a social security card. I'm an alien.\" ", "\"A-alien?\" I stammered.\n\n\"Yes. Now, I know this comes as a surprise...\" She said, trying to sound soothing.\n\n\"A surprise?! It's our wedding night!\" I couldn't believe she waited all this time to tell me. To... show me.\n\nShe sat there, casually speaking to me in her normal, sweet, lovely voice that I have always loved, but no longer the beautiful woman I had dated and been betrothed to for 2 years. All of that was some kind of holographic illusion. No, now she looked like a hideous freak from another world and it was all I could do not to scream and run into the night.\n\n\"I know it's difficult, believe me. I never intended for this to happen, you know. My ship crashed and I was marooned here and you -you were just so sweet to me. I really do love you.\" \n\nMy heart ached. I heard the love in her voice and I felt the love we had nurtured together for years. But I couldn't avoid the simple truth.\n\nShe was hideous.\n\nHer eyes were white with red veins crackling through them like lightning streaks and in the center there were orbiting discs of blue. Membranes above and below the two lonely eyes on her face blinked now and then, flicking rows of tiny black spines of hair. Her skin was pale pink and smooth -no scales at all and from her head grew a wild mane of yellowish hair. She had only two legs and two arms and no tail or tendrils at all. Somehow worse than any of it, she had a protruding lump above what she considered a mouth with gaping holes in it.\n\n\"I- I don't know,\" I admitted. You're from another planet. I mean, could we even have children?\"\n\n\"We could try,\" she said meekly. A part of me wanted to grab her and kiss her, despite her ugliness, and make a go of it. Somehow we could do it, so long as she could keep the holographic image of her normal looking self going. But another part of me knew there would be a slip-up some day, some little thing would drop the illusion in the food-facility or at labor and then what? We'd be hounded by the government, imprisoned, dissected, or worse. I had to make a choice. I weighed the situation carefully and came to one inescapable conclusion.\n\n\"You bet we can,\" I said reassuringly. \"Why, I don't see that you're really any different at all. You're the same woman I fell in love with, Fre'lek -er, I mean, Betty, now. Such an odd name.\n\n\"For you, Shu-shu-deeo, I shall always be your Fre'lek,\" she switched the illusion of the pretty orange multi-pod I fell in love with back on.\n\nWhen I left to fetch the Sumshi wine and sex orbs I made a quiet call to the authorities and a few tears escaped 11 of my eyes." ]	3
	[WP] You are a tattoo artist with a new client. He removes his shirt to reveal a list of names, and his request is to have the first one crossed out. A few months pass with a few more visits, and as you go to cross off the last name, you notice your name has been added to the bottom of the list.	[ "I watched as the seconds chipped the last of my business hours away. The expected tinkle signalling the entrance of my oddest regular interrupted the deafening ticks of the little hand I had been tracking. \n\nSo familiar was our weekly routine that I didn't even notice I had begun until the tip of my tattoo gun dipped into John's skin to cross out the last of the names on his back.\n\nI didn't need to read it to know Gregory was being offed. For what, I never asked. \n\nA few months ago, John had sauntered into my humble tattoo studio right at closing time. Not a second before. I had attempted to turn John away, especially having just refused the business of three, piss-drunk dude-bros who didn't want to hear that matching knuckle-pieces spelling out B.R.O.S. on their right hands was not the best, most awesome idea ever.\n\nInstead of arguing or leaving, John had stood stock-still. Silent. Staring straight into my heavy-lidded eyes. After another weak attempt at explaining I was closing shop, I had sighed and gone through my usual first-time client routine.\n\nThe first had been Emily Schwartz. The eleventh was Gregory Hopkins. \n\nAlthough creepy, John was probably my best client. He knew exactly what he wanted, the work was simple, and the pay was generous. John always left triple my usual rate in cash before vanishing into the night. \n\nA slight heaviness weighed against my chest as the realization that today was the last day John would visit dawned on me. I'd never grown attached to a client like this before. Then again, it's not often that an artist gets visited nearly twelve weeks in a row by the same client. \n\nIt was then that I finally noticed the new name sitting comfortably under half-stricken Gregory. \n\nMy mind blanked. \n\nHow?\n\nIt must've been a coincidence. Maybe it was another Daryl Li. \n\nThere was bound to be another one in downtown, let alone the entire city!\n\nRight?\n\n\"So, I don't usually do this, because clients who want to would usually tell me without me asking, but, is there any special meaning to what we've been doing for the past three months?\" I asked.\n\nJohn showed no signs of having heard me. \n\nAfter a couple seconds of sweltering silence, broken only by the buzzing of my tattoo gun as it finished crossing Gregory Hopkins out, I cleared my throat.\n\n\"You are next.\"\n\nI snapped my head up, sucked a breath in through my nostrils, and asked, \"next for what?\"\n\nJohn rolled off the bunk, letting his shirt fall back into place, pulled out the usual cash-filled envelope and left it on the counter before making his way towards the door.\n\n\"Next for what!\" I shouted, still holding the tattoo gun.\n\n\"See you next week.\"\n\nAnd with a tinkle, John vanished into the night. \n\n________________________________________________________________________________________\n\n\nComment with: \"stay\" if you want me to continue working at the studio and wait for John to return.\n\nOr\n\nComment with: \"gtfo\" if you want me to get the hell out of town cause I sure as hell don't want to find out what being crossed off means.\n", "LIST-\n----\n\nBonnie introduced herself as BonBon. She was a thin woman, built for hard labor and cigarettes. She came in every few months asking for me to add a few more flowers to her sleeve. She had once told me, eyes half closed in pleasure, that the flowers represented people who had hurt her. Some were death, others dead to her. \n\nThey grew on me. \n\nI prided myself on detail, loving the new requests she made. Sometimes she asked me to pick a flower. She said she liked my choices, she would have never known the names of the exotic roses or lush tropical ferns. \n\nToday Bonnie asked for a tulip. It took about 45 minutes to finish. Just before I added the last line of green to the leaves, the door opened. The bell clacked against the glass. I paused for a moment.\n\nBonnie kept her eyes on my hands, her mouth in a tight line. I wondered if she liked the needle a little too much. When I heard Andrea greet the customer, I turned my attention back to shading the edges. \n\nWhen Bonnie was done, she paid at the counter, leaving me a $30 tip. I pocketed the money, thinking about the beer I could pick up on the way to Danica's party. I had been broke the last few weeks, trying to pay off a broken window. \n\n\"Elaine,\" Andrea called. \"Your 1:30 is here.\" \n\n\"Okay. Just let me clean up.\" \n\nWhen I had sanitized my work station and wiped the ink off my wrist, I approached the front. Unlike most of our customers, Eero Lankila looked like he had just come from selling insurance. He wore a blue and gold plaid shirt, brown pants, and a grey jacket. I was certain his tie and briefcase were sitting in his car. He looked the type. \n\nHe asked me to call him Ro. He said he felt we would end up friends, if he trusted me enough to 'ink em.' \n\nUnlike my other customers, Ro didn't need a consultation. He said he knew what he wanted and it was very simple. He wanted me to cross out a few names on his chest. \n\nI had seen worse tattoos. People with names on their faces, cartoon character tramp stamps, sassy messages above their dicks. I had seen stranger things. Or so I thought. \n\nThe difference between Ro and the rest of my clients was the odd structure of his tattoo. It looked like an attendance sheet. There were about thirty names written down his spine. He told me to cross out three of them: Khaldoon Umar Qureshi, Xiao Hong Tsai, and Martina Juřinová. \n\n\"When that is done, I would like you to add three more.\" \n\nThe names were written in beautiful, clear print. Small enough not to run out of room, but bold enough to draw the eye. Ro had pale skin, freckled lightly around his shoulders. He was not built for battle, but he seemed to work out. \n\nWhile I worked, he told me about his company's baseball team. He played twice a week with his department. He seemed so pleasant, I almost forgot how strange his tattoo really was. He didn't offer me a reason for the list, or why I had to cross people out. When I asked about it, he got so tense that I had to stop the needle. \n\n\"It's really hard to talk about,\" he said. \n\nThey must people who have died. And that was the thought that made me begin to like Ro. I thought he was listing off the people he loved, in some symbolic way. Crossing them off when they died. So he could carry them with him. \n\nWhen I had drawn a line through the three names, I began to trace the additions. \n\nMila Atencio Rojas\n\nJames Martin. \n\nNoé Carvajal Rodarte\n\nI wrote in the same small, clear print. \n\nWhen I was done I cleaned off his back, put away my tools, and sent him to go speak with Andrea. He handed me a small white envelope. Inside was close to $100 dollars. \n\n\"A tip.\" \n\nThen he went up to the counter and paid. \n\nHe came back almost every week for the next six months. I began to try to guess the ethnicity of the people he was writing about. I invented who they were in my head. I added almost 45 new names in that time, all unique. \n\nHowever, slowly the names started to stop. He just came in for me to cross them off. \n\nBy the time I reached the end of the list, he had five names left. \n\nI could tell that he had gone to other people to get names as well. There were different styles, each small and elegant. Still, he came to me to cross them off. Why? I am not sure. Perhaps he liked my bedside manner. \n\n\"I won't be coming back again,\" Ro said. \"My job is almost done. Two hundred names.\" \n\nMy fingers slid down his spine, counting them. 199. \n\nThe last five were rather boring. \n\n- Chad L. Allen\n- Bruce A. Burr\n- Thomas Wilhelm\n- Matilde Gomes Lima\n- Virginia R. Hester\n\nThey sat almost on his tail bone. \n\n\"I would appreciate if you would cross them out. Then I have two things I would like you to add,\" Ro said. His voice sounded heavy, as if he were tired. \"I have to get home soon. It's been a long time since I have felt like this. This... happy.\" \n\n\"Is everything okay?\" I asked. \n\nAs I prepared my station, he told me that he was going to see his mother. She had been on a trip to Greece for the past few months and he was eager to reunite with her. He seemed to think she would be pleased with what he accomplished. \n\nI patted him on the shoulder, pulling on my purple gloves. \n\nI crossed out the names carefully. He curled his shoulders and arched his back, allowing me better access. \n\nWhen that was done, I asked what else he would like done.\n\n\"I want a final name on there,\" he said. \n\n\"Do you have the name?\" I asked. \n\n\"Yes.\" He handed me a small slip of paper. Written in slanted font was my name: Elaine Porter. \n\nI took a step back. \n\n\"I want you to sign your work. Add a little heart.\" He gave me a big smile. \"I want to remember you.\" \n\n\"Okay,\" I said. I began the strange experience of writing my own name onto a person. \n\nWhen I was done, he asked me to cross the name through, then add the heart. \n\nWhen he was done, he let me clean his skin before he put on his shirt, buttoned it, and handed me another envelope. Inside was almost $4000 in cash and a list with a single name. \n\n\"You have been so lovely to me,\" Ro said. \"I wanted to return the favor.\" \n\nI gaped at him. \"What am I supposed to do with this? You can't mean it is all for me.\" \n\n\"Please, spend it. Go on that trip you have always wanted. Memorize the name, it's important.\" \n\nWith that Ro left the tattoo shop. ", "Lee was a new customer of mine. He just walked in to my store one day and asked for a tattoo. I was opening my little booklet of tattoos to show him his options, but he seemed to have made up his mind already.\n\nHe lifted up his shirt, revealing a list of names, reaching from his collarbone to his stomach.\n\n~~James~~\n\n~~Adam~~\n\n~~Connor~~\n\n~~Adrian~~\n\nLeo\n\nMax\n\nMichael\n\nThomas\n\nStephen\n\nSome of these names were crossed off, some were not. There didn't seem to be any relation between any of these names, except that they were all male. Being the first meeting between the two of us, I didn't want to push Lee, so I chose not to ask him about the names.\n\n\"Hey, could you cross off Leo for me?\" he asked, with an almost sorrowful tone.\n\n\"Uhh yeah sure,\" I replied. \"Anything else? Something on your arm maybe? Looks a little bare. Or maybe your back? You can't go wrong with another one there.\"\n\n\"Yeah actually. Could you just add Aaron to the bottom of the list?\" he meekly asked.\n\nSo I did what he asked, and crossed off Leo and added Aaron to the bottom of the list. Possibilities were running through my head. What if he was an assassin? But what kind of assassin gets sad about his targets and is stupid enough to have his target list on his chest? Maybe he's a lawyer who tattoos his client list and crosses off failures? Not a chance. What about a tax collector reminding himself of who he had to collect from? Now I was just being stupid. I stopped my little train of thought and collected his money and thanked him for his time.\n\nA few weeks later, he came back, asking me to cross off another name and add another one. This pattern continued for a while, some days simply adding names to the bottom, other times crossing off more than one and adding none. He came in to my shop once every three weeks or so, although there was one time where he didn't come for more than two months. \n\nI got worried that I had lost my first \"regular\", since Lee was quickly becoming not only a reliable income source, but also a pretty good friend. When he came in, he seemed even more down on himself than usual. He didn't say anything to me, just lifted his shirt and pointed to a name: Aaron. I knew what to do and crossed it off, feeling sympathy for this man who was one step from weeping.I never did bother to ask him about the list, since every time he came in it seemed something heavy was on his mind.\n\nEventually, the list grew longer and longer, passing his bellybutton. The rate of names being crossed off was higher than that of names being added. \n\nHe came in to the shop one day, with only one name left on the list, one that was barely visible behind his, umm, well behind his bush. That was how long the list was.\n\n\"Cross off Joel for me please,\" he said with a sigh. His downcast eyes, droopy shoulders, and hunched back made it more than clear how he was feeling.\n\nWith some moderate difficulty, I crossed off the name from his list, and stood back.\n\n\"Well, your list is done, Lee. What now?\" I inquired. \"Unless you want me to continue it on your legs or something.\"\n\n\"I want you to add your name to the list, Jack,\" Lee said suddenly, looking at me with eyes moist with tears.\n\n\"Well alright then. Which leg do you want me to do it on? The left leg seems more logical, since we read from left to right,\" I offered.\n\n\"I was thinking something more . . . central,\" Lee countered.\n\n\"Umm, wow. Okay. That's gonna hurt. A lot. You sure you want to do it?\" I asked, fearing a lawsuit if something went wrong.\n\nLee nodded, and braced himself for the pain that was to come.\n\nIt was probably the most uncomfortable tattoo job I've ever done, and I've tattooed a tramp stamp in the asscrack of a four hundred pound \"call girl\".\n\nTaking care not to hurt him too much, I finished applying the tattoo. As I stood up to put my gun away, our eyes met. He looked at me in a way I can't describe, even after all these years.\n\nIt was then that I realized what the list was about.\n***\nFirst story in WP. Any feedback is welcome, since I have no creative writing background or education, and I want to get better at this.\n\nEDIT: It seems some people are confused about the ending. Sorry for the ambiguity. It sounded better in my head. The list on Lee's chest is a love list, or a list of partners that he's had, which have all failed causing him to want their names to be crossed out and why he was sad each time he entered the tattoo shop", "Terry was a regular customer of mine. A nice enough guy and his work was always easy enough. Always wanted me to write names on his stomach and chest and then sometimes came back later to have me cross them out. It was such a comfortable routine that I began to genuinely like the guy. I looked forward to his bi-weekly visits and began to think of him as my first \"regular\" customer. There was a sort of loyalty and bond of friendship between us. Heck, I would have given him a tattoo on the house if he'd ever asked for one. \n\nBut that all changed one fateful afternoon as he lifted up his shirt and asked me to cross out one of the final names on his belly. It didn't notice it at first, but as I began working it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. There, under the last name I'd written, the name I was currently crossing out, was my name. I had no idea how it'd gotten there, who'd written it, but it surely wasn't one of my own. It was written crudely, with what were obviously sub-par tools. \n\nA surge of anger swept over me. In a flash my rational mind was overcome with rage and I lost control. Without a pang of guilt or worry I plunged the needle as deeply as I could into his stomach. With a sort of unholy strength I plunged it so far into his gut that I could feel his entrails writhe around my fingers and as I leaned in closer to put my full strength into it I brought my head right up next to his and whispered as menacingly into his ear as I could \n\n\"So... who's this tattoo artist you've decided to hire behind my back?\"" ]	4
	[WP] You're suffering from multiple personality disorder. By day you're "Hyder", a criminal mastermind with a plan to launch the world into nuclear war. By night you're humanity's only hope to survive, a masked vigilante, the Jackal.	[ "((so, uh... I kind of love Decoder Ring Theatre's podcast about the Red Panda, an audio drama style podcast where a Cold War costumed vigilante from Canada saves the world with the appropriate Cold War style propaganda running in there occasionally, so this is pretty much a homage story to the style they do things.))\n\nDeep and buried in the vaults of Colorado most secret mountain espionage facility, hidden behind enough security that a walrus would vomit at the sight of it, is the secret files of the Black Jackal, infamous wartime costumed vigilante, who, with the aid of BRACER, an international team of superspies, work together to stop the fiendish schemes of villains from beyond the Iron Curtain!\nBut each mission, the Black Jackal takes a legendary super-serum that unbeknownst to him transforms him into the terrible villain Dr Hyder, whose terrible intellect stands against all, not merely America.\n\nJoin us now in this installment of the... Black Jackal!\n\nlinebreakhere\n\nWe join our hero, the Infamous Black Jackal, far beyond the beloved safety of Lady Liberty, may she always stand proud, he lurks in the deepest and most foul of Nazi bases, gulping down a serum that will give him the knowhow to stop the most terrific and most dangerous person, of whom he, the infamous Hyder, can wage war on the world that scorned his experimental serum to give a man increased intelligence. They called Hyder mad? Soon all will know madness! This is Germany! This is the epitome of the ubermensche program! Not bodies, but minds must be of Aryan stock! Ahahahaha!\n\nThe Black Jackal. Pah. A mere vestige of his old self, struggling to stay sane in a world gone insane. Ripping off his vigilante clothing and putting on his customary labcoat, he had only moments to construct a doomsday weapon set to explode before the Jackal's personality would... dog him, if one pardons the wordplay.\n\nWires and chemicals mix together, and soon a prototype nuclear explosive is built. First this base in the depths of abandoned German steppes is blown sky high, and then the explosion will force this accursed cold war to finally heat up, ahahahahaha-\n\nWait, where am I? Oh-oh! That fiend, Dr Hyder must have drugged me and dressed me in filthy German rags. That fiend must know my identity now... But no matter. This is clearly a bomb, and I must defuse it, or the world is doomed to atomic fire!\n\nOur hero, scrambles for his mind-serum to assist in defusing the bomb but finds his last batch was gone, most likely stolen by that Dr Hyder! But unbeknownst to the Black Jackal, the last of his serum was used to create the fluid system within the bomb.\n\nHe quickly sets to work regardless, cutting cables, and soon ticks down to the final thirty seconds.\n\nWill the Black Jackal defuse the bomb in time? Will he ever find out that to find Dr Hyder he must only look to a mirror? Will you buy war bonds? Join us in Part 2 to find out, in the thrilling adventures of the Black Jackal!", "Hm. Launch codes. Hyder isn't making this hard. Feels a little to easy Jackal thought to himself. Should have guessed he was. I'd made it into his secret base without a worry. Almost felt like I knew my way around.\n\nThe Jackal looked around the main control room to see if he could find any security cameras. Not seeing a single one he began to ponder if Hyder had even hired any security. He turned to the main computer in the control room and shifted around some files, trying to make heads or tails of the situation. \n\nAfter delving deep into the computers hard drives he found one file that stood out unique to the others. Simply titled \"Read me Jackal.\"\n\nA trap. Opening this will just activate a protocol. Jackal snickered to himself. Let's play your game.\n\nHe double clicked the file and a video began to play. With inquiry Jackal looked up, hoping to finally see the identity of his Arch-Nemesis. Instead, all that played was several still frames of words.\n\nDear Jackal. It seems you've found your way into the very heart of my grand palace of terror. Then again, I never doubted you, old friend. Now, if you will, please, leave here with those phoney launch codes I left on the desk. Oh... what's that? You thought they were real? Well if you want the real ones, its simple. Just down the hallway, Jackal. To your left.\n\nAs soon as the video ended part of the wall to the Jackals left began to raise. With trepidation Jackal moved closer to the door and inspected down as far as he could. The hallway was narrow with no bends. From outside the doorway he couldn't see far enough in to see an ending.\n\nBooby trapped to no end, isn't it, Hyder? Jackal stared deep into the hallway and let a smirk. And part of me thought you were going to try.\n\nWith a bound Jackal leapt into hallway not standing on the entrance of the doorway. Instantly as he landed, the doorway slammed shut leaving no time to move. Predictable. You always do the slamming door trick.\n\nA whirling sound emerged from the walls and beneath Jackal. Gears and cogs merging together, rumbling in unison. Jackal took a few steps forward cautiously, waiting for the trap to begin. A booming echo bursted from the roof behind him as part of the roof itself fell to the ground. Water poured out from the roof rushing forward towards Jackal.\n\nNo time to rest\n\nJackal immediately took off into a sprint down the hallway keeping careful track of what was ahead of him. Knives began to shoot from his right, and than his left. Every now and then parts of the roof would fall out again, revealing more water pouring down to chase him. Jackal intently counted his steps as he ran down the hallway. Knives from the right, than the left, and then the roof once more. Every 20 steps, knives from the right. 15, from the left. 32, the roof fell in.\n\n20-15-32. Jackal had the numbers memorized within three repetitions of the pattern. He had been running for several minutes when he could finally see the ending of the hallway. And it was with an amazing curiosity but it appeared another man was running straight at him. As soon as he had made this deduction the lights above flickered and he couldn't see the man anymore. \n\n\"If you can hear me, turn around! Nothing but death this way!\" He yelled out to the stranger. Jackal began to strain his eyes to see if he could try and find the man in the darkness once more, but in doing so, he lost focus.\n\nDaggers from the left shot out. With nimble reflexs he managed to dodge nearly all of them. Nearly. One of them pierced through his lower waist, just above the hip bone, and made its home there. Jackal let out a yelp in pain but did not break his stride and kept running.\n\n20-15-32.\n\nThe lights flickered once more and he could see the man about 500 metres ahead of him, but he barely got a good look.\n\n20-15-32.\n\n300 metres. This time the look was better. He was wearing the exact same clothes as Jackal was.\n\nThe lights flicked themselves off again. Jackal ran with all his might forward as the water behind him pushed itself closer and closer to his heels. He ran and ran for what felt like days until the lights flicked once more.\n\nA 3 meter gorge was in front of him, giving him no more than 10 meters to prepare to jump. Jackal immediately poised himself to bound over the chasm, and with all his might pushed himself hard off the ground. With a rumbling thud be landed on the other side, but slid onto the right side of his body. Quickly, he turned his neck around to see the water cascading towards him.\n\nThe water reached the chasm and began to fill it. Jackal laid there in pain trying to maintain any energy he had in his body praying to any deity above that would hear his call that the chasm surpassed the water.\n\nGod must have had good hearing that day.\n\nThe water plummeted to its doom, barely filling the chasm passed the halfway point. Jackal let out a breath of relief before it dawned on him that the man must be right behind him. He turned around to be met with no man, but quite curiously, a mirror. Jackal stood in front it and stared intently.\n\nDown in the corner of the mirror he saw a minor inscription. He leaned over and said out loud \n\n\"I live in the corners of heaven where sinners call themselves home; Whilst my soul dwells in the light of hades.\" \n\nJackal stood up again and stared at the mirror with wonder. Where is he. Where is Hyder. Blood was oozing out of his wounds as he started to feel light headed. With all his might he resisted the urge to pass out, but it was far to much for him to bear. The Jackal fell the the ground unconscious.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nSeveral hours later, the body on the floor began to murmur and move. It rose off the ground, groggy and taken back. It let our a cry of pain as it stared down and found the knife embedded in his side. He looked forward at himself to find a mirror.\n\n\"Did that sick fuck Jackal, put me in his costume, stab me, and leave a mirror here?\" Hyder said out loud. \"Jesus christ, he's demented.\" \n" ]	2
	[WP] Aliens have invaded the earth, and decimated every major world power. However, one country had gone largely ignored, and is humanity's last chance at defeating the aliens... North Korea.	[ "Smoosh!!!! Dan's face slides across a rocky debris filled brown sand that was once a beautiful landscape. He stumbles to get up after narrowly avoiding a fierce incoming projectile. Trembling, he rises flourished with a fresh rush of adrenaline from the near death experience. Dancing with death daily, he works best after receiving the rush that comes with it.\n\nDan checks himself to make sure he doesn't have any holes in his body. Checking to make sure his Ray Gun is secure in its holster. He is has killed many aliens and not only that acquired one of their weapons. He dashes across a pile of wreckage, precisely avoiding endless body parts and bones scattered throughout the now barren, but once flourishing area. \n\nBOOM!!!! A blast lands dangerously close behind him knocking him off his feet, like a tackle from Michael Strahan. The sky buzzes with a deep bass sound and the entire atmosphere ripples with wave lengths like a stone being thrown into a lake. The air was filled with dust and dirt particles. It stunk of decay and destruction. Dan could barley see where he was going.. \n\nBOOM! BOOM! BOOM! \nDebris from the sky crashed violently all around him. In front and behind him as far as the eye could see. Dan realized the debris were parts of obliterated Alien space crafts. \n\n\"Why were they falling out of the sky?\" Dan wondered as he lost focus tripping and landing on the hard dirt ground. With his back on the ground and his eyes looking into the rippling sky he prayed to not be hit by the falling debris seeing no escape in sight.. More debris fell to the ground, shattering the earths crust. Dan laid and continued to hope he would not be hit.\n\nDan was one of the last members of one of the last resistance groups in North America. The Aliens first came to earth 3 years ago. Fleets of UFO's hovered over major cities and military bases. The North Koreans attacked first, launching their newly tested war heads at the hovering ships demolishing them upon impact. The surging pulse of EMP waves from detonating a nuclear device miles above their home country knocked out all of their electronics and they were forced to retreat into the darkness. \n\nMoments after the attack began, all major cities and large military bases were struck first. N Korea was the only country to strike first and without any electricity the Aliens failed to notice their significance. The war was long and bloody, many casualties on both sides. The aliens were not invincible. They were more advanced, but they bled just like us. They blew up, just like us. Our only hope, their only weakness was our countless nuclear submarines submerged throughout the oceans globally. Each country had launched every warhead they had from all of their submarines, but after launching each sub was discovered and destroyed. This was a significant blow to the enemy. It gave resistance pockets a chance. The war raged for 3 long years and it had seem that humanity was dwindling on it's last thread.\n\nThe earth quakes so viciously that Dan is sprung from the ground into the air. Like a cat he extends his legs and lands on his feet. The sky had stopped falling, he could barley breathe in all of the rubble and dirt that filled the air. He struggled to keep his balance with the earth vibrating so violently. Dan hears fighter jets over head. He knows they are human fighter jets from the sound as they roar through the sky. He was surprised, how could this be? \n\nThe North Koreans had taken down the mother ship of the Alien fleet and they were vulnerable. The fighters flew in to clean up the scraps. Dan raced to the hull of the mother-ship seeing it in the vast distance. He knew if he could get inside and disable all their defenses across the globe the world may just have a shot. He hustles across the barren land and a North Korean pilot see's the American on the ground. He fires upon him and lights Dan up with a personal bunker buster. \n\nHe laughs as Dan is vaporized on the ground. Cheering as he has taken an American life. The mother-ship enters self destruct mode and the entire planet is vaporized along with it. No survivors. \n\nThis was my first writing prompt. And I ran out of time at work.", "\"Grand Overlord. We have prepared the missiles. Everything is in place. We just need you to give us the order.\"\n\n\"Silence, peasant,\" the man in the suit whispered. He put some gel in his hand and used that to make his hair even slickier than before. \"There is no need to rush. Our enemy is strong- stronger than anything we have faced before.\"\n\n\"But, sir, this-\"\n\nThe man raised a hand, and the soldier stopped. \n\n\"We must attack them as we have attacked all the others. Do not underestimate the enemy. Do not think that because of our superior intellect and military expertise that they may catch us off guard.\" His eyes drifted to the window, where he spotted millions of men practicing their hand-to-hand combat skills. \"Our enemy is a slippery one. We have won many battles, and we have gained much knowledge and rewards from each victory. But letting your guard down may be the last choice you ever make.\"\n\nThe soldier gulped. \"I understand.\"\n\n\"The People's Army...\" The man opened up his desk and held his hand over a button. \"They are ready. They are willing.\"\n\nHe touched the button.\n\n\"And their name is one that we will take from them after we defeat them. Admiral Havava!\" His other three hands waved at the soldier, who scurried away on five tentacles. \"Execute plan A once the missiles have reached the Northern Koreas! All ships, prepare to fire!\"\n\n" ]	2
The guy to be sacrificed doesn't know he was built like that.	[WP] He was on the sacrificial altar, resigned to his fate. The head shaman then sliced open his chest and to his horror, found neither blood nor a heart, but a silvery object with some cut colored strings. Write from the perspective of either the shaman or the victim	[ "“Why do humans have to be so stupid?” \nJesus Christ’s limbs were tied to a table. He stared down a group of zealots, all brandishing silverware. Their leader stepped forward, face adorned with mustard and ketchup. Jesus could not hold his tongue. \n“Look chief, I’m Jesus fucking Christ and I’m trying to save your souls.” \nThe chief snorted. \n“Nonsense, you emerged from the sealed catacomb. Our holy texts promised that the ‘Grand Slam’ would one day come to fill our eternal hunger. We are blessed that it occurred within our lifetimes.” \nJesus gritted his teeth as a vein appeared on his forehead. \n“First off, that isn’t a catacomb, it’s a kitchen. Secondly, that text in your hand is a menu from Denny’s!” \n“Silence! We understand that you must test our faith, but we will not waver. Today, all of us shall consume a piece of you and ascend to ProviDenny’s.” \n“See, this is the kind of thing that got humanity wiped out the second time.” \nThe chief approached Jesus, prepared to chow down. The son of God rolled his eyes. \n “It’s a good thing I learned my lesson from last time.” \nThe chief raised his knife over his soon to be breakfast. \n“No more words, only chewing now.” \nHe plunged the implement into the waiting flesh. The knife simply bounced off. The chief was baffled. \n“W-what is this?!” \nJesus smirked. \n“As I just said, I wasn’t interest in being carved up again.” \nRippled steel covered the savior’s chest. He snapped his bindings and sat up. \n“Nano machines, son.”\n", "The harvests had been poor for two seasons, the people were starving and growing sick. \nAnger must fill the gods, the priests said, so they took tribute from farming villages and we were marched to the capital. \nI had always been a religious woman and I bowed to the wisdom of the representatives of our deities. The high priestess knew best; she was living embodiment of the Mother and I trusted her judgement. \nLike many of the others, I was honoured to be chosen. \nThe roads were thronged with people on their way to the festival of rebirth. Feathers, beads and ochre decorated the dancing, singing revelers on the roads, masking the stink of illness and the rumbling of empty bellies. \nTravelers reached out to touch us - the blessed sacrifices - to ensure luck and health. One man fell to the ground after touching me, claiming he had a vision and was now cured of madness. \nPerhaps the gods were working through me. Perhaps he was still just mad and making things up.\n\nAfter two weeks we reached the tiered brick spirals of the capital, topped by the imposing ziggurat of the Mother. Even from down here I could see the stained stairs, dark with the blood of the endless sacrifices. \nThe Mother was birth and death. It was claimed that all our spirits came from between her cosmic thighs, then into these earthly vessels. When our time had come, the Mother devoured us, taking her spirit back into her to be born again. \nThis life was not a good one. I had bourne my husband no children and he was weak with the shaking sickness. To be consumed by the Mother and reborn was something I profoundly desired. Perhaps next time I might be created as a healthy woman in a rich, highborn family - with dozens of children and blessed with the claw marks of the Mother up and down my belly. \nI was eager for it to happen, but we were forced to wait in the pens under the temple. After the long climb through the myriad stairs of the city, many of us had collapsed with fatigue. One woman started shaking with the sickness and we retreated in fear. \nNot wanting the priests to know we might all be infected, I sat with her and held her, soothing her as I had my husband until the tremors stopped. \n\"You have healed me!\" she said in wonder. \nI shook my head, \n\"I have not. It will come back. But for now you are free.\" \nThen she slept, as exhausted as the others. It was some time before I joined them.\n\nMother's eyes were high in the sky as we were brought out into their green-yellow and blue-white glare. \nLike my eyes - one green, one blue. \nSeveral of the other women selected also had different coloured eyes, or blue eyes or green eyes. The Mother preferred those like her. \nOur twin shadows spilled down the stairs of the ziggurat as the priests sang and chanted from the sides. Higher up, the rawboned priestesses stood naked, painted in oils and earths, stuck with feathers. Some wore the bird masks of the Mother. \nThe chanting grew shriller as the male voices dropped below us. \nForced into a line, we waited for the ritual to complete - then the twin suns would be at the highest point in the sky, two great eyes staring down. \n\"Look into the eyes until you feel and see no more,\" urged the priestesses, \"it is the Mother's mercy to you.\" \nObligingly we complied, blinking and staring until our eyes burned and visions visited us. \nThen I was stumbling to the altar, sunblind and disoriented. Blood slicked the tiles beneath my feet and I fell across the altar. \n\"This one is eager,\" said the high priestess, her obsidian dagger scraping my bared breasts, \"this is good. And look, her eyes.\" \nThe other priestesses sang with new devotion, surely this was a sign. \nI felt the cut as though it happened to another person. I felt the skin part, but the pain drifted elsewhere, out of reach. \nI felt wetness on my skin, then a scream from the high priestess - a scream befitting the beaked mask she wore. \nRaising my head I looked at my open chest. \nInside were luminous blue and green lines over shining metal like gold - but colourless and mirrored like nothing I'd seen. \nMy answering scream matched that of the priestess and her brood." ]	2
	[WP]Snoo, Reddit's avatar, is turned into a superhero to stop the evil Dr. /b/. However, instead of taking the best of what Reddit is, it takes the worst.	[ " Hey guys,there's a real superhero in your computer called Snoo! Many might not know about him cause he always hides in the DeepWeb;but, when he's not fighting he's always looking out for the evil Dr./b/. Snoo is the protector of all reddit users and the website where he resides. \n\n Snoo has been fighting Dr./b/ since the beginning of the internet. He has fought him and his evil Malwares and Trolls in the Battle of the Trojans,a infamous \"bug\" that cause many early computers to crash or burn for unknown reasons. It was until 10 years ago,the battle was finished, Snoo defeated his nemesis,and took over Dr./b/'s land called Reddit. Reddit was once considered a danger zone for may lurkers in the DeepWeb,now its a peaceful nation;until now, Dr./b/ has resurrect from the grave and made things worse for the land of Reddit.\n\n It's the present day,Reddit has celebrate their 10 peaceful years as a nation with Snoo. One of Snoo's messengers, Digg got a message that Dr./b/ has escaped his forbidden grave. In the real world, many of the mods and users heard a deadly \"virus\" has been released to the internet,a deadly one that has crashed many websites. Now it's up to Snoo to defeat the Dr./b/ for good. Dr./b/ has destroyed the Valley of Mobility with a text message, that can wipe away a whole village in one code. Next,is his given land that betrayed him,Reddit.\n\n\"Snoo will be dead forever!!\" Dr./b/ shouted as everything around him rumbled like a earthquake.\n\n\"Oh no he's here!\" Digg said as he and Snoo felt the trembling in the ground.\n\n\"Warn everyone and evacuate!\" Snoo cried as this is the last and powerful battle with his nemesis.\n\n In the Internet world,many humans online got messages that Reddit will be closed for \"inconvenience\" the following weeks. In the DeepWeb,Dr./b/ and Snoo fought in the village of Subreddit. Many destruction and rubble filled through the whole village. Dr./b/ then had the idea to use the power he learned,the one that destroyed the Valley of Mobility. \n\n\"Goodbye Reddit,my land that betrayed me and good night Snoo\" Dr./b/ laughed has his whole body was filling with electric ooze that escaped through his body and a dark fog of codes began raining down on Snoo.\n\n\"No,not this day.\" said Snoo as his antenna on top of his head was releasing a fire-like substance that began to burn through Dr./b/'s face of webs.\n\n\"Nooooooooo......\"Dr./b/ screamed as he was trying to get rid of the of the substance,all of the sudden,a flash of light began casting out the fog and Dr./b/ himself. Snoo who was surprised of what he saw!\n \n Joel,a human developer for the actual Reddit, was the one who released the cloud of light.\n\n \"Finally there will be peace for this website and Snoo will have the final peace.\"said Joel as he turned off the computer.\n\n\n \n\n ", "Snoo was disgusted by the actions of Dr. B. Snoo. He had been bested before, many times, but he did not fear being bested again. Today he had a plan. Today would be different. \n\nDr. B approached Snoo with a sinister grin plastered on his oily, pimply face. He stopped, exactly as expected, about 8 feet away. Dr. B raised his arms to gesture at the wreckage all around, \"This--\" he began, but got no further. \n\n\"Power Mods ATTACK!\" Snoo bellowed. \n\n█████████████████████ ████████████ ████████████ ████████████████████████ ██████████████████ ██████ █ █████ ███ ████████████████████████ ██ █ ████████████" ]	2
Pretty open ended, you decide if the king is the good or bad guy	[WP] The king's son is sick, he needs a new heart. The king will go to any lengths to find a compatible one.	[ "In a kingdom far, far away, a beloved king and his wife ruled over a beautiful country. They were adored by their people, for they ruled fairly and with compassion in their pristine white castle which stood upon the highest hill in all the land.\n\nThe King and Queen often left their castle on the hill to ride through the country-side to hear the words of the people. They would ride up to farms to listen to the requests of the farmers. They would stroll through the town to give alms to the beggars. They would attend merchant's meetings to ensure all the needs of the shopkeepers were met.\n\nYes, the King and Queen were truly blessed to have the love of their people. And it was with light hearts and songs on their tongues that they left the castle on the hill. They rode up to the farms, strolled through the towns, attended many meetings, and it was near dusk when they finally set off home again.\n\nOn the way back to the castle on the hill the King and Queen passed an old woman hobbling down the road leaning on a cane. They rode up beside her, hailed her in happy voices, and the King offered the old woman his horse, for he was a kind and compassionate man.\n\n'No thank you, my lord,' said the old woman, whose voice cracked with age. 'You are most kind. Truly we are blessed to have such a King and Queen as you. And truly you are blessed to have hearts so large and pure. And yet I have always known that you wish you had something more to give your love to.'\n\nThe old woman plucked a flower, a brilliant yellow and white daisy, from the roadside. 'Make this into a tea and have your wife drink it, and I promise you in nine months a son will be born to you.' The King and Queen accepted the flower and rode swiftly for home.\n\nThe old woman had spoken true, and nine months later a Prince was born. His name was hailed across the kingdom as the heir to the throne and the son of the beloved king. The Prince's hair shone like gold, and his eyes sparkled blue as the ocean. And yet under his beautiful blue eyes an evil shadow lurked.\n\nNot three years had passed into the son's life before his health began to fail. His heart beat with increasing irregularity and his skin paled as though the fog of death were already passing over him, pulling him away from the land of the living and from the loving embrace of his father. The King and Queen had doctors and wizards from all over the kingdom come to assess their child, but each one knew of only one way to save the dear Prince.\n\nThe King at first refused to kill an innocent to save his son, but as the days passed, and as he watched his son waste away, he began to waver.\n\nAt first, he called the beggars up to his palace, one by one by one. Every time the great white gates closed behind the beggar, it never opened for him again. One hundred beggars were slain but not one of them had a heart for the Prince.\n\nThen, he called the farmers, one by one by one. None of those called ever returned to till the fields and the kingdom soon fell to famine. Over one thousand farmers were slain but not one of them had a heart for the Prince.\n\nAt last he called the merchants, one by one by one. Shops stood empty and abandoned, and the bustle of market day disappeared from the town forever. Ten thousand shopkeepers slain, and none of them had a heart for the Prince.\n\nThe King, distraught, threw his dagger against the wall as he watched the life of his son, his beautiful baby boy, fade from body. Tears ran down his face and rinsed away the blood of his wife, the Queen, beloved by all, beloved by him above all. He had slain her too, but she did not have a heart for the Prince.\n\nThe king went riding that day. He rode to the farms and found them empty and full of weeds. He strolled through the town and saw no beggars. He went to the meeting hall, and left it to decay in silence. He rode back to the castle and looked up at the walls. Once, his castle had been pristine and white, stood atop the highest hill in all the land.\n\nNow the walls were streaked red with blood, and the hill was crested by corpses. The King climbed off his horse and knelt on the ground before the gates, staring down into blood-stained hands as though they held the secret he so desperately craved. \n\nThe old woman stood behind him and made herself known to him by clearing her throat. He whirled around and lunged at her but he simply passed through her. He stumbled and fell once more to his knees. 'You!' He raged against her, spittle flying from his lips. 'It was you who brought this upon me!' \n\nThe old woman simply smiled sadly and replied 'I am sorry this came to pass. It was not my intention.' The King was not satisfied. He beat the ground with his fists and screamed up into the sky. \n\n'I LOVED MY PEOPLE!' He cried. 'I gave them EVERYTHING! I LOVED THEM WITH ALL MY HEART! But none of them loved my son! None of them had a heart for my son!'\n\n'Only you could possibly give your son the love he needs, my lord.' A simple dagger, produced from within the folds of her black dress. 'Love your son with all your heart, my lord.'\n\nAnd the King did.", "The King's son was sick,\n\nHe saw visions of violence, \n\nOf men marching into battle,\n\nWith their brothers. \n\nThe King didn't know what to do,\n\nHis son was going mad with hope, \n\nThat the King might save them all.\n\nSo the King looked upon his kingdom,\n\nHe wept and searched, for the right heart, \n\nTo fix the hatred eating at his own,\n\nTo stop the dreamless future, \n\nHis son was wilting to avoid. \n\nOne day he stepped outside his castle, \n\nLooked to his neighbor and asked, \n\n\"What can I do to make you smile?\" \n\n\"My wife is hungry and I have no bread.\" \n\nSo the King gave him bread.\n\nHis son slept well that night. \n\nThe next morning he looked to the right,\n\nAnd saw a man without shoes,\n\nSo the King gave him shoes. \n\nSo the King set out to fix the hearts,\n\nAnd make homes out of war zones.\n\nAnd his son grew healthy again." ]	2
	[WP] You're lost in a forest after wandering too far from your campsite. You haven't seen another soul in hours, your phone battery is at 8% and you have no signal. Yet your phone suddenly says there's an open wifi nearby.	[ "I shouldn't have wandered away from the camp. Dammit self, why, why, why? If I get out of this alive I should consider myself a lucky man. I only went away to take a piss. Is this Mother Nature's retribution for ruining her plants?\n\n\"Look. I'm sorry I took a piss in your garden. The bears do it too, I'm sure of it. But anyway. Would you kindly allow me to get back to my friends, now?\" I tried to pledge with the mystical forces holding me back.\n\nNo answer. I can't say that I wasn't expecting it. I looked for the campsite for hours, though, and no sign of it. I'm also sure that I saw the same dead frog, thrice, now. My legs are all scratched up from all the walking around this goddamn forest. I think that I also stepped on a poison ivy when I wasn't paying attention.\n\nMy phone's battery is almost dead, just at a measly 8%. Why did I spend all night playing games on it? Dammit self. Again. Not like it was useful or anything right now, but who knows? Maybe the bears built radio towers nearby, for reasons unknown to me.\n\nI take a quick glance at my phone to check the hour and to see if there is any signal. 3.50 PM, and no signal... Wait a minute. Wi-Fi? I looked at my phone from several different angles to make sure my eyes weren't deceiving me. Still there. I closed the phone and stood still. Okay... so the bears do have wi-fi here, after all. Clever bastards.\n\nI have to do this quick and get help. \"Help. Stuck in [name] forest. Send help. And food. Get coordinates off message.\" I think this should do the trick. Now, I can browse reddit... Wait a minute. I have wi-fi in the middle of a forest... Maybe it would be appropriate to find the source of said wi-fi first, then browse reddit. It's also starting to get kind of dark...\n\nMy train of thought is brutally interrupted by the sound of howls.\n\n\"Shit. Fucking wolves?\" I let a yelp out.\n\nQuick! Google \"avoid wolf attacks.\". FUCK! THE BATTERY DIED! I have to think... Dogs can't climb trees, it should apply to wolves too. Climb on a tree. Hopefully this works. I haven't climbed any trees since childhood, but I managed to get pretty high up above the ground. I held onto the branch like my life depended on it, which it probably did.\n\n10 minutes have passed, and no sign of wolves, and my arms are starting to get tired. I look around to make sure I don't see any pack of wolves roaming around. And in the distance I manage to see puffs of smoke, making their way up on the crimson-colored sky. Indians! No, wait... Friends!\n\nI make my way down the tree, my crotch area hitting about three branches on the way down. And I start running towards the direction of the smoke. Yes! I know those tents! Finally, my salvation has arrived (vice-versa, mostly). My friends greet me with weirded out looks, but I made it out alive. And now, I can consider myself a lucky man.\n\n\"Guys. You won't believe what happened out there!\"", "I wander the forest, desperately searching for someone. Anyone. But there is no one to be found.\n\nIn the middle of nowhere, otherwise known as northern Ontario, my phone has no reception. My 2G connection ran out 30 minutes ago, and shows no sign of picking up anything else.\n\nI was just looking for some firewood when I made a wrong turn. My friends are probably still waiting for me to return with firewood, although one of them might begin to get worried. That can't faze me.\n\nMy map. Where's my map? Oh right. I left it at the fire, along with most of my other survival gear. I have my phone, my knife, and the clothing that I'm wearing.\n\nThe situation is looking bleak. My phone is low on battery, partly due to playing games around the campfire. I take a glimpse, not wanting to lose any precious battery life. 8%. Shit.\n\nI call out names, hoping that somebody might hear me. Doesn't even have to be my friends. But the only reply I get is the whipping wind of a cold winter night. I'm beginning to freeze, and my hands are going numb. \n\nMy coat pocket vibrates. Could it be? I fumble around with my phone, trying hard to steady my hands so I can read the message.\n\nIt says \"Dude where the fuck are you? Firewood collecting doesn't take that long\"\n\nI am about to reply when it hits me. How can I receive this message? The top left of my phone gives me the answer. Beside the chilling No Service words are something perhaps even scarier. Three bars of wifi. \n\nPossibilities race through my head. Am I hallucinating? Is this the frostbite and fatigue getting to me? Only one way to find out. I unlock my phone, taking three tries because my hands are trembling like I have Parkinson's.\n\nI navigate to my settings application, and press on the wifi section.\n\nI look at the name of the wifi network, not believing my eyes. I rub my eyes, blink a few times, and look again. I'm not mistaken. There, before my eyes, are two words that could symbolize either life or death. \n\nShia Laboeuf\n****\n\nAs always, feedback is welcome" ]	2
	[WP] When he turned on the faucet this morning, blood poured out.	[ "\"Shit\" he thought. \"Wild party\". He turned off the faucet, not having energy to think this one through at this time of the day. He went out on the bathroom, continueing his morning rutine. He turned the faucet on again. Still blood. His headache was still partying from yesterday, leaving no room for quiet, rational thought. His sink was turning red from all the blood, pouring out from the faucet. \"It was going to be one of those days\" Chris thought. \"No coffee, no shower, and it's only six.\" He yawned, looked at the blood and turned off the faucet. He opened the front door, wanting to visit the couple next door. Maybe they had water instead of blood. upon opening the door, Chris had his third shock of the morning, and it wasn't even half-past yet. The entire street was floded with a red liquid that could only be red wine in Chris's head, but turned out to be just the same kind of liquid as was running in his pipes: blood. \n\"For crying out loud!\" Chris mouned, as he put his wellies on. \"Bloody East London Waterworks Company and their shitty \"water contamination checks\" Chris mumbled, as he pout on his wellies, and waddled over to his neighbourgs.\n", "It was 6:20 in the morning, his roommate was stirring. The room was squeaky clean, just how they both liked it. Ao took on his clothes as he usually did, walking down the heavily polluted, disgusting hallway of the dorm to get to the bathrooms before the others would get up and piss in the sinks. For some reasons, after a few months of minimal supervision in the boys' dorms, the whole place had grown to be a bit of a dump. Ao really didn't care that much, except that the bathrooms were shared, and they weren't exactly clean. But better to get up early before people would further contaminate the bathrooms. Last time he overslept, not only were all the good food, a rare and elusive commodity in a school attempting to put everyone on a gluten-free, lactose-free, sugar-free, taste-free Icelandic diet, in the cafeteria gone, but the bathrooms had more than the usual amount of fecal matter in the sinks, baths and on the floor. Surprisingly the toilets were quite pleasantly clean. So Ao had to hurry this morning to brush his teeth, as he had no more bottled water to do so he was forced to touch the rather unsanitary sinks and use the water from the school faucets. Yet when he turned on the faucet that morning, to his surprise, blood poured out.\n\nAo turned the faucet off immediately. He thought that of course it couldn't be blood, they had had a time when the water was red from rust, and he wasn't wearing his glasses that morning. Of course, it was just rust. He then turned on the next faucet, and blood came pouring out. He turned it off and went back to his room, got his thick spectacles and returned to the bathrooms. Surely he was just tired and seeing things? No. Even with his glasses on, the faucets all ran with blood. He cupped his hands, filled them with the liquid and reluctantly smelled it. A weak metallic smell filled his nose, it could be blood. But it could also be really rusty water. It really wasn't a thing he was used to, he wasn't a surgeon or a cannibal or anything. He then checked the baths, and they all ran with blood. The toilets were filled with blood.\n\nIt made little sense, an adult human only contains between 5-7 liters of blood and he was pretty sure that he had wasted more than that. He decided that this was really more than he could take. After four months at that boarding school of nightmares, a place where civilization had seemingly gone wrong, he was only slightly fazed by it. It was after all a strange place. Dark history clung to the walls of that place. The teachers knew it, the students did as well. The place had a tendency to draw out the beast in people. Ao had seen two boys fight to the near death over a girl, at the evening meals it was either beat the others and get the good stuff or come meekly in to partake of the things deemed too disgusting to eat by others. A school at least five miles from the nearest town, a place for students of ill-repute. It had history. Bad history. A large painfully white central building, flanked by several old farm houses and the like build in the seventies and sixties. The boys had their dorm on the third floor of the five-floored central white building. The girls lived in several smaller houses surrounding the school. A total of about three-hundred students attending the place.\n\nHe went back and woke his roommate CT, from his slumber. CT liked the clean room that Ao kept, unlike most people, yet he was still quite bestial. He was not very surprised by the fact that the faucets poured out blood. Ao wanted to know why. CT just looked at Ao and told him that the boys had taken care of a problem, and that Ao shouldn't ask questions like that. Ao hated when people said that, he had an innate curiosity about him, always asking questions. Yet even he knew when to quit asking. He tried asking anyway, CT just said that it was rust, nothing more. CT then went back to their room, kicking on every door he went by. The people of the school were of three different calibers. The brutal beasts, like CT, the strange, unnervingly quiet and disturbingly tall students who always seemed to just be around and those curious few who sought to explore the school and discover secrets. Ao was one of the latter.\n\nIt was a strange place. Yet the blood was definitely new. Ao still remembered the Christmas concert at the assembly hall on the second floor, it was only later he was informed that the lovely girl playing music on a violin coated in silver, had been found in the forests around the school, frozen to death. Been like that for days before the concert. When he, Peter the Tall and Peter the Short had found a room with skeletal soldiers, still wearing the uniform of the Liebstandarte division, it was but another confirmation of the strange and unusual of the school. They didn't report it though, just locked the place back up after liberating the skeletal remains of their weaponry. The most unusual, from the perspective of a student, was how there were rarely any teachers around. Sure classes were taught, but few if any remembered what happened during the class or who taught them.\n\nHe went down to the cafeteria, and sure enough, blood instead of water in the cups. He tried the ever-calming tea, one of the few things not entirely disturbing about the place, and found to his annoyance that it tasted vaguely metallic. Luckily the milk wasn't blood-based, just tasted really gross, so he drank that to his cereal instead. The girls usually bathed before coming to the cafeteria on the first floor of the main building, it was noticeable that a lot of them sported skin with dried brown-red blood. And the boys came down too, some complaining loudly about blood in the sinks and everywhere else, others snickering and cackling like hyenas. He really didn't mind it though. If it was a prank it was pretty good, spending time with people who grounded up crackers and snorting them while drinking directly milk from the goats that grazed on the school grounds, and often provided meals when the Icelandic diet food was way too terrible to eat.\n\nThe boarding school Ao went to had history. Dark hidden history. Blood pouring from the faucets was almost normal compared to the other things that had happened. During last year's Easter for example, a rare enthusiastic teacher wanted the Crucifixion scene to be extra realistic, and had himself crucified to add to the realism. It created a new artform at the school, Brutal Realism, a form of art still very popular during creative class where paint was often mixed with various bodily fluids mostly from animals. Yet the blood thing was new. Ao, Retard-Fred and Peter the Small volunteered to take a look at the school's own water reservoir to see if anything was down there. And sure enough, alongside the reservoir's edge, there were twenty-nine goats, thirty-seven pigs, thirteen cows, four deer and the morbidly obese politics teacher, all with their throats sliced. A letter next to her explained that she wanted to beat the wannabe-Jesus teacher in Brutal Realism, with a piece about how certain forms of slaughter were inhumane. She had gotten her idea from some of the boys and had their help with the gathering and slaughtering of the animals. She had drained blood from the all students five times that year, as part of a huge mandatory blood-drive, and had mixed that into the water along with the blood of the animals. Took herself out last as a way to further cement her brutality. Personally Ao thought that the crucifixion had been a better piece of art, but that was because he had made the cross in wood-working class. In the end, the blood was simply another part of the madness, that resided at his school.", "\"Oh God!\" Michael reeled away from sink and fell to the floor, his mind running blank the moment his back hit the bathroom door. Breathe Michael, breathe. Collecting himself, he gathered the courage to stand up and look at the running faucet again. No blood. Just hot water streaming down, fogging up the mirror. Huh. It was obvious that he was simply freaking out, hallucinating. His body was sore, covered in cold sweat, and he couldn't sleep well. Everything was piling up, and the stress was breaking him. Michael waited for his stomach to settle down before proceeding to wash up. The water scorched his hands, but it was almost as if he didn't feel it. No, it wasn't that...he just didn't care. Michael soaped his face and hair, then cupped his hands under to gather the hot water. The constant pressure felt nice, soothing. As if it could almost make him forget. Almost. His hand placed on the mirror, Michael wiped away the steam that had gathered, only to be met with a face not his own. Again, his mind went blank as he jumped backwards. Focusing again on the mirror, he was greeted with his own familiar mug. Not the...other. His stomach felt like it would burst out of his mouth. Michael braced the sink and took a few minutes to breathe in the warm vapors of the hot water. The stranger he had seen...could he really call him a stranger now? The look on his face. It was so sad, so accusatory, almost pitifully so. With a determined gulp, Michael looked back up and finished washing up.\n\nFinally dressed, Michael grabbed his phone and took a look. 7 missed calls, 6 messages. Almost all of them were from Kristen She's must be so worried and angry right now. He thought. But this was a bad time to call her. Maybe afterwards. One message wasn't from her. The name said Johnson and had a heart symbol at the end. The corner of his lips instinctively curled up in disgust. I don't remember adding this contact. It was a simple text, with nothing more than an address. Reaching for the doorknob, Michael paused. You're being paranoid, dammit! Nothing's wrong with it! Still, Michael chose to change into leather shoes, and used a scarf to touch the doorknob. No incident. Letting out a sigh of relief, He walked out his apartment, dreading the encounter he was headed towards.\n\nThe cafe was sparse of patrons. Just a couple in the back, and a pair of women chatting away to the left. On the right, amongst the many small tables for two, sat a blonde women, up in her age, but put together like a college girl ready to party. She gave Michael a smile as plastic as her body. He took the seat at her table, all the while staring icy daggers at her. \n\n\"You look like hell.\" She commented, still smiling. Her facial expression never seemed to change. \"Ms. Johnson...\" Michael replied, his cheeks getting flushed as he burned with fury. \"I had a busy night. You know better than I do.\" Seeing her face again made him want to vomit. \"Oh, I do, and congratulations are in order. We've made all the necessary accomid-\" She words were cut short by Michael. \"I just want my life back. I never asked for this.\" Ms. Johnson replied without missing a beat. His words were expected \"No one ever wishes for these things. Life just has a way of creating...extraordinary circumstances.\" She raised a finger to one of her golden locks, twirling her hair as she continued. \"Michael Michael Michael. We didn't take your life. Hence, we can't give you something we don't have.\" Her tone rose with the last word, as if singing mockingly. \"You're absolutely free to walk away from this any time you'd like.\" Michael almost trembled with the last sentence, partly from rage, partly from fear. \"Bullshit\" He whispered. \"Hmm?\" She heard his words quite clearly, he knew she was just playing around with him. \"I know if I walk away, something will happen to me...\" Tears began welling up in his eyes as his chest was gripped in pain. \"And everyone I love....\" He regained his composure as he chocked out the last words, fighting back the tears. Ms Johnson's smile was placid, much like a work of art. \"Well, you can't really blame us for that. You just caught the attention of the entire criminal underworld with your...conquest.\" Michael's hands balled into a fist \"It was just a fluk-\" He stopped as he suddenly found himself speaking to Ms. Johnson's open hand \"Stop. Luck is just the unobservant eye's perception of circumstance.\" There was a tinge of annoyance in her voice, \"If luck could bring about such results, no one would bother with gathering intelligence and resources, with preparations. No, Michael. You have what we in the industry often refer to as instinct.\" She rested her arm on the table as she leaned forward, excitedly telling him, \"A particular combination of skills and traits. You have potential. You have...talent\" Her smile grew just a bit wider, though it still felt so fake, so practiced. \"And we can help you nurture this talent, whilst still respecting your wishes, and at the same time offer you resources at our disposal.\" Michael huffed, unconvinced, staring Ms. Johnson in the eyes. \"No you don't...you just want to use me, like everyone else\" A shiver of electricity ran up his spine as Ms. Johnson's icy mask cracked. Never had he seen Ms. Johnson display any sort of genuine emotion. It wasn't strange in itself, but she had always been calm and mocking. Now, he desperately wished she'd return to that same demeanor. Michael prayed that he would never, ever again, hear Ms. Johnson laugh. \"Good! So you're learning! The money has already been wired to your account. I look forward to my next meeting with the new best in the business.\" Frozen by fear, Michael could only sit as she leaned over and whispered into his ears the last words before she walked away \"Welcome to the world of shadows...assassin.\"", "Robert woke up and walked to his bathroom. When he turned on the faucet, his bath started filling with dark scarlet liquid. He looked at himself in the broken mirror and smiled.\n\nWhat a wonderful day, he thought. Fresh virgin blood in my bath, zombie infestation is under control, demons gave me another lease on my soul. And today I will close the binding oath with the legions of terror to doom a few more universes for destruction. He felt so confident that he was sure that today nothing could go wrong.\n\nAs he rode his skeletal horse to his job, he was quietly humming The Imperial March. He entered the Volcano of Dread where his Council of Evil was residing. Instantly he realized something was wrong.\n\n\"Sir, we have an emergency! The amount of evil in the universe #136004267 is plummeting! The last time we checked up on it was centuries ago, humans were in dark ages, worshiping demons and burning witches, all as on schedule, but now everything is out of control! They are constantly curing diseases, they have invented the internet where they share cute cat pictures. They have a tv show about purple ponies and friendship! Purple ponies, for Cthulhu sake!\"\n\n\"Oh, crap, how could you miss this? What will the Dark Lord think of our incompetence!? Can we at least send some Vile Priests to revive some mysticism and dark rituals?\"\n\n\"No, it's too late, they have wikipedia now, nobody will take them seriously!\"\n\n\"Racism?\"\n\n\"They've been through that, it won't work.\"\n\n\"Can we send some zombies?\"\n\n\"They know how to fight them. They are watching zombie movies for fun!\"\n\n\"Oh, maan, I'm so gonna get fired....\"" ]	4
	[WP] In the year 2198, the law of equality is passed. It states that whatever crime you commit shall be committed to you. You are a Balancer, one who enforces this law. You are handed a file and open the door to the interrogation room where you see your next assignment, a 19 year old girl. Go.	[ "\"Ooh, you lucky shit, you've got a good one today, Lu! Drug trafficker, big numbers, you've never done this kind, have you?\"\n\nShit. I knew one of these was gonna be coming soon. Normally I'd had small fries in this little town. A kid steals some gum, so we steal his Legos. Stealing someone else's wifi for 209 minutes, you get no wifi for 209 minutes of wanting to use it. Simple stuff, y'know?\n\nBut as I walked the hall, I couldn't get rid of the lump in my throat. This little town finally had a big-time criminal in our midst, and I, as the Balancer, had to make things right. \n\nI walked in and saw a tan girl with black hair, eyes bloodshot and eyeliner streaming down her face. \"I only did it because I needed the money. I have a kid, sir! Please, you gotta understand!\" She hollered and cried, I could barely make out what she said. I had to hold back my own tears. Why did I even get into this line of work?\n\nNext to the chair that she was cuffed to lay a big bag full of multicolored pills, white powder, and black gummy masses. Oh yes, this was certainly going to be an interesting first for me. I sighed as emotionlessly as I could as I cut open the bag.\n\n\"What is all that shit?\" she screeched. I looked up at her, opening my mouth to ready a reply, but I saw the fear in her eyes. It was almost tangible. I closed my mouth, and looked at her for a second, and then proceeded to cut it open, spilling the contents onto the floor. It didn't matter if they were dirty or not. Not in this instance.\n\n\"C'mon, fuckface, you gotta at least tell me what my punishment is!\" She hollered. \"Ma'am,\" I said quietly, \"with all due respect, I don't have to tell you anything.\"\n\nShe spit on me. \"Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck this 'equality'!\"\n\nI wiped a tear from my eye as I started to explain her situation. \"Miss, you are sitting in this chair today because the proceeds of your sales have caused the deaths of approximately one hundred and ninety-four people. Your poison has caused a noticeable drop in our population. You brought drugs into this sleepy town. It is time for you to, as they say, get a taste of your own medicine.\"\n\nShe started to weep. At this point, she was exhausted from having stayed in that chair for a day or two. She didn't have the energy to resist as I picked up the pills, gums and powder into a mesh and placed it in her mouth. I helped her chew. It killed me to do it, but this was my job. She swallowed. I held a glass of water to her mouth, and she sipped. I then grabbed another handful and did my job.\n\nAfter 5 handfuls, I had finished, and I gave her one last sip of water, and said \"Godspeed.\" She tried to say something about me not leaving, but it was already hitting her. She vomited, her nose bled, she shit herself, it was a mess. I couldn't stand it. But I had to. It was my job, after all.", "Swive-it, he thought, reading the repercussion blinking in his AR. Swiving teenagers. He made sure the straps were tight around her wrists and ankles, belted firmly into the chair, and draped the rubber sheet across her very revealing shirt. One of those translucent tanks with the little opaque dots tracking onlooker's eyes, guaranteeing the good parts were always just out of view. Damn teens. Swiving teens. Always gotta make a swiving mess. He picked up the razor blade and held it near her cheek. No guess work was involved. She had AR'd the whole event, so his job was only a perverse paint by numbers. His AR helpfully chaptered out the footage for him so he knew where to make the first slice. This was going to be a swiving mess.\n\n\"Go on,\" she goaded him. \"Do it! You don't think I didn't this was coming? I recorded myself! Of course I knew.\"\n\nFilthy teenager. He followed along with the AR footage, and drug the blade up the curve of her cheek to the tip of her ear. Now for the first cut, the moment it stops being a game and becomes all to real. Quickly, he flicked the blade and made the slice.\n\nShe screamed, tears gathering in her eyes. \"You - you did it! Don't think,\" she sniffed, \"I ain't ready for more.\"\n\n\"Come on,\" I muttered. \"Do you have to holler like that? You had plenty of time to prepare yourself.\" I wiped the razor across the rubber sheet on her chest, just as she had done according to the AR, and then slowly moved to the other ear.\n\n\"Shut up,\" she chided. \"That's not,\" sniff, sniff, \"How it goes. You gotta do and say it exactly like I did. That's the law.\"\n\nSwiving teen. She was right. The law mandated she have rendered unto her the exact same torment, action for action, and, swive-it, word for word.\n\n\"You little - \" He started and then moved the blade away from her ear. \"I never had to act it out like this.\"\n\n\"You want to call the judge and ask what the law is?\"\n\nNo. Swive-it. He moved the blade into position again and muttered, \"Take this you impotent little - I don't know what that word is.\"\n\n\"You got the AR feed, don't you? Hello, you got ears? I was pretty clear.\"\n\n\"It sounds like you said murfal.\"\n\n\"That's right.\"\n\n\"What is murfal?\"\n\n\"If you don't know, then you don't gotta know. Say it, and get it done.\"\n\n\"Little murfal,\" he muttered, and made the second cut.\n\nAnd did she ever holler then. Screaming, cussing, hissy-fit caterwauling. She shook in the chair, testing each wrist and ankle bond, and then stared wild eyed at him. \"You really suck at this.\"\n\nWhatever, he thought, and continued repeating what he saw and heard from her AR feed. A cut here. A slice there. A slew of incomprehensible words and pretentious bluster. And what a mess it made, each slice sculpting her into some kind of freak. Until, at last, he made the very last cut, right across her forehead, and threw the blade down.\n\nHe unfastened the wrist and ankle straps, yanked the rubber sheet from her torso, and watched the little opaque circles follow his eyes from the collar and over her breasts to her - he looked away.\n\n\"There, it's done,\" he said. \"You're free to go. Justice is served.\"\n\nShe stood up and dabbed tears from her eyes, and looked in the mirror. \"Swivin,\" she said. \"That is totally kick-ass. Don't you think?\"\n\n\"Whatever,\" he muttered, and went to sweep up the hair.\n\n(edit: removed first person)" ]	2
[This post]( http://www.reddit.com/r/blender/comments/3bjwkq/june_contest_the_immortal_inventor/) on /r/blender reminded me of a very haunting daydream I had long ago. I would love to see it developed into something more fleshed out. Perhaps someone will be interested in co-authoring this with me? Here's the basic idea: The setting is Victorian England (or earlier?) Regardless, the whole place (and story) reeks of [Romanticism](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romanticism). A watchmaker is in some sort of accident. Perhaps the [Great Molasses Flood](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Molasses_Flood) happens a little differently in this universe... Perhaps some other sort of accident, though I think a steam engine explosion might be a bit pedestrian. Anyway, the watchmaker is somehow injured and unable to continue a normal life. He uses his tradeskill to make himself a prosthesis so he can continue to work. Time passes, he has relationships, which might be strained due to his mechanical malformation. He grows old, frail and weak. He continues to build himself up where his body fails. He is, for whatever reason, unable to do the same for his loved ones. Perhaps they are accepting in death and refuse his care. He continues to repair his own body as time goes on, and eventually it becomes unclear if he (it?) is more man or machine. Perhaps he becomes distant from the people around him. How long does he go on? He is weak. Can he bring himself to end his own lonely existence? If he cannot, perhaps he eventually witnesses the [heat-death of the universe](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heat_death_of_the_universe). Does he orchestrate the creation of the next? He is the Watchmaker. (How [teleologically](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watchmaker_analogy) you interpret that is of course, completely open and it should be pretty interesting to see what people come up with...)	[WP] The Watchmaker	[ "\tA very, very long time ago, I was born. I was named. I was raised. It was so long ago, I have forgotten most of the details.\n\tI grew to a teenager, and became something of an inventor. Clockwork fascinated Me, as it had for a long time. When I was in the accident, I worried that would be it. That My glorious inventions would all resolve to nothing. Fortune was with Me, however. I was clever, had always been clever, and at some point cleverness would be good to Me.\n\tI had been toying with the small machines of clocks at that point and as such was able to rebuild my own knee. I had worried so much that without personal mobility, My capacity to properly generate income for food and family would likewise fail.\n\tThe knee was My first upgrade. After that, it became apparent to Me that anything else I needed I could simply fabricate on My own. I had created the ultimate fix for My own mortality, an aspect that most of My fellows experienced crippling uncertainty with. Sadly, My fix, though often and wildly expanded upon personally, was of no help when My own mother and father finally succumbed to death. I, for the greater part, was still a child, never having allowed Myself to age to the point of detriment.\n\tAs time passed, technology improved, as did My enhancements, though I maintained the clockwork. I don't know, I guess I got a sort of nostalgic thrill from them. Despite the thrill of digitization, and the increasing rarity of the necessary repair components, I hoarded them like no one's business, though I managed to use the entirety of My stores before too long. I wound up simply uploading my consciousness eventually, finally forsaking the clockwork for good.\n\tThat was likely for the best.\n\tWhen the universe died, I was left. I needed nothing, as I was nothing but a sentient signal. I'm not sure how long I simply existed like that. Perhaps ages, perhaps mere seconds. What is the difference, really? After a bit of time, I found Myself bored. So I began to attempt to orchestrate the nothingness into broad strokes of fusion and chaos.\n\tWas this it? All My life, I had wondered about the Beginning. The start of the universe. Had it always been this? Had it always been Me? Just some bored kid, inventing things for His own amusement? If I made a civilization, would I be the ultimate outcome? Would I do this again?" ]	1
In the great tradition of games like The Last of Us or movies like Serenity, there are often moments when our characters stumble upon a place where life once thrived, but now sits cold and empty. The story of these places can be told by newspaper clippings, journals, government pamphlets or audio recordings, but usually convey a great deal of background information on a setting. I've always found them fascinating. If you like, the log can also include a short prelude about where it was found and by who.	[WP] Write an apocalyptic log, something that a protagonist might stumble upon in the wasteland or survivor camp. Explain how the world got to be how it is, or simply use it to show some poignancy or humanity.	[ "i found a jug of milk today it was barely liquid almost like cottage cheese smelled like shit too \n\nit hasnt even been that long and i still missed it funny how the small things hurt more than the big ones\n\ni mixed it with water and drank it i dont even like milk ", "It's been a while since I have contributed and hope this is appropriate. \n\n\nIt's been so long since I've seen Coruscant. But I've learned to love Esprit, mostly because of you Mia. Even if it is being torn apart by war the beauty of this planet still makes me smile. Being a soldier on the front lines is hard. I've seen countless friends die, and my hands seem to be stained with blood. I came to this planet with you Mia and I will gladly die to ~~protect it~~ protect you... from the rebels. ~~Sitting in this foxhole my armor stained with my own blood.~~ The only thing keeping me going, even with the knowledge we are undermanned and outgunned, Is the thought of your smiling face with Colb holding onto your leg his blanket held tightly to his chest. If I do not make it and this gets to you I want you to know I love you with every fiber of my being, and that even though you had to convince me come to this planet it has grown on me. I want to see you again so badly but I fear this is it for me. With love Graves. \n\nTo anyone that finds this please make sure it is sent to my lovely wife Mia Dust. \n\n\nVader lowers the holopad, looking at the dead trooper before him. His body riddled with blaster holes, it was obvious that an entire magazine was emptied into his corpse. A runner quickly appears at his side, \"mi lord we've captured rebel prisoners. Do you want to call in the POW transports?\" Vader looks from the runner to the dead trooper before him, then back at the holo pad he took from the corpse. \"No we will take no prisoners, I want them all executed.\" \"Yes mi lord!\" \n\n", "I hope you read this.\n\nI hope this is discovered, preserved, and you take the time to crack the language and read this. I've been careful, as careful as I know how to be, and I want something of us to survive.\n\nIt doesn't really matter what destroyed us. There were dozens of things that might have. There's a really big volcano under North America. There are rocks in space that might hit us. There are diseases. There are ideas. There are technologies. Too many to pick just one, really. That's why it doesn't matter.\n\nI tried to pack as much of us into a time capsule as possible. I thought I could get one piece of music from each culture, because music is something that we all do. It was as pointless a task as trying to find one poem. We have so many cultures, so many songs, so much music, that it was an impossible task. There was an almost endless variety of these two artforms that to include one thing would have been to leave out so much of the best of what remained. In the end, I couldn't do it. So it's all gone.\n\nI wanted to show you what we had built. The ancient buildings we preserved, from the earliest days of humanity, to the modern wonders. Maybe you've seen the ruins. Maybe the likes of Stonehenge have survived us and you're as baffled by them as we are. Maybe it's all dust.\n\nI couldn't preserve the minds. The great thinkers, the great explorers, the women and the men who stood at the edge of ignorance and tried to push our understanding further and further out. I wanted to introduce you to the people who lit our way as we began to understand the universe and our place in it, as well as how much more there was left to find out.\n\nI also couldn't preserve the people. The huge variety of people. So many, with so much common ground, and such love for one another. I particularly wanted to introduce you to Mrs. Dumlesi. Mrs. Dumlesi is old, has seen much, lived through hardship and terror, and this morning she gave me an apple and told me to smile, because it would be alright.\n\nI hope you read this. It means that in some tiny way The Rolling Stones and Mozart and Isaac Newton and Maya Angelou, Stonehenge, all of the million million things we did and were and tried and achieved, might somehow not disappear entirely. You might pause, once in a while, and if all you remember of us is the kindness of Mrs. Dumlesi, then we - as a race - haven't done too badly." ]	3
	[WP] Write an episode of Scooby Doo as if it were like True Detective	[ "Another death on the wrong side of town, why was she here? Valmara (Courtney Cox) poked cautiously at the white substance that had congealed on the bottom step of the murder scene. A sarcastic smirk and predictable sigh escaped her - she knew it would be semen. It always was. Some sick pervert had obvio....\n\nRoughly, she felt her hips nudged aside as Scobbiticus roughly scanned the crime scene with his nose. The K9 crime dog earnestly scouted the scene - no-one, not even Valmara, was going to stop him doing what he did best. Every scent on the scene pierced his nostrils, however the scent of cum, pizza, or weed was not was drove him today.\n\nShagus (Ryan Reynolds) grinned as he stood over Valmara, pulling weakly almost imperceptibly on the lead holding Scobbiticus. He winked at her; \"Dont be greedy, four-eyes, let the pro's work\", his blond irish hair fell into his face with indifference. \"After all, its because of you...\"\n\nHe didnt get to finish, as Velmara grabbed the badge off her belt and flung it into his face with such force he dropped the leash, falling back on his ass, his shoulders pressed against the wall. His arms were visibly shaking, and Velmara could swear she heard his teeth chattering. Good, she thought, as her shield slowly imprinted into his cheek.\n\n\"Your dog let two strippers down last week, PRO, their blood is on your hands!\" she pointed at her colleague. Her voice didnt yell, but it certainly pierced the air. She continued despite the guilt she could see welling in his eyes. \"And dont tell me to chill or relax. I'll do that once this sadist is caught...\"\n\nShe pushed him to the ground and turned away. Velmara traced the white globule trail up the stairs, all the way up to where the unleashed Scobbiticus was staring coldly at her. His paw had pulled open the jacket covering the victims naked body, revealing a burst packet of liquid drugs in her inner breast pocket. Velmara cringed - her desire to give the victim her dignity had hidden this vital clue. It wasn't semen after all. It was Viscous Coke. She scratched Scobbiticus's ear quickly, guiltily, hoping noone else saw.\n\n\"I need a report!\" - the voice boomed from the old apartment blocks' doorway accompanied by the klik-klak of leather shoes. Fred stood in the entryway, one hand on hip with the other holding his kerchief against his nose. Valmara rattled off her summary \"Single female, strangulation, drugs in her possession. Its Viscous Coke. Probably one of Ol' Man Withers dealers, but I doubt we'll be able to tie it to him.\" Valmara paused as Scobbiticus sniffed at the victims hair. \"Theres more, boss...\" Valmara leaned down and sniffed the hair herself. \"Her hair smells of 'Dark Forest Scare', so I'm betting she got her hair done at 'Freaky Fairground Hairdressers' recently - its the only location that uses that wash.\"\n\nFred stepped around Shagus and started ascended the stairs. \"Thats oddly specific, Velmara...\".\n\nValmara snapped back \"Well this isnt True Detective, boss!\"\n\n\"No...\" said Fred, pulling out his sunglasses, \"its CSI Miami. And I\"m just hoping the murderer isnt.... \" Fred put his sunglasses on dramatically \"... two steps ahead.\"\n\nYEAAAAAHHHH.... Scooby Doo Theme", "Fred loosens his ascot. Shaggy walks around the body taking pictures. Daphne examines the girl's hands while Velma sketches in her ledger. \n\n\"She fought back, but he knew what he was doing. Nails are clean. Three, no four fingers broken. Looks like he took her time with her.\" Say Daphne. \n\n\"What's that shit on her head?\" Asks Shaggy. \n\n\"Some sort of ritualistic accoutrement. She looks like a sacrifice.\" Says Velma. She walks over to the body. \"He sutured her too. I'd bet money her heart is missing. Humanity, I remember when that meant something. Now, we're just killing each other one day at a time because we've forgotten how to live, like taking a life grants us temporary immortality. We deserve the fate that befalls us.\"\n\n\"That's enough.\" Says Fred. \"We've got what we need here. This isn't their first victim. We'll have to look through records. Shaggy and Velma, that's on you. Daphne and I will interview family and friends.\"\n\nThe group heads back to the station and then home for the night. Daphne cooks a meal and hears a knock at the door. She goes to answer it. Velma looks back at her. Daphne steps aside and invites her in. \n\n\"Fred was going to come over for dinner.\"\n\n\"I'll be quick.\"\n\nShe leans and kisses Daphne passionately. What transpires feels like a Girls Gone Wild video. Velma lays naked next to Daphne on her bed after they finish. Daphne's phone rings. She picks it up. \n\n\"Yeah, okay.\" She hangs it up. \"Fred's not coming.\" \n\n\"You can again.\"\n\nCut to Fred, meeting with a guy in a bar. \n\n\"This is just a professional meeting.\"\n\n\"Sure thing, Fred. That's a long time ago. What can I do for you?\"\n\n\"You remember the Werewolf killings?\"\n\n\"Of course, who doesn't?\"\n\n\"Well, you spent some time in the pen with Sam Roberts, right?\"\n\n\"We were chummy. The guy was pretty quiet. Didn't join up with anybody. He was recruited too. Surprisingly nice for a supposed serial killer.\"\n\n\"Did he have anything written in his cell? Or, did ever mention any friends on the outside?\"\n\n\"He had some symbols, but the guy wasn't a talker. Didn't say jack shit most of the time. We worked laundry together, and we both loved Magic: The Gathering. So, we mostly played that. I only saw his cell a few times.\"\n\n\"Have you seen this symbol in his cell, Tommy.\" Fred holds up a picture of a symbol from the deceased woman's body.\n\n\"Maybe, you might have to pump me for information though.\"\n\n\"Sorry, I don't do that anymore.\"\n\n\"Right, ya found Jesus and what not. I forgot. The symbol, I've seen it, but not on his wall. I saw it at a church a few hours from here.\"\n\n\"A church? Where?\"\n\n\"Nah...\"\n\n\"You've earned some alone time if you tell me.\"\n\n\"What about Jesus?\"\n\n\"Jesus hung out with 12 guys. I'm sure he'd understand. I just have to make a call.\"\n\nCut to Shaggy looking at old crime photos: \n\nHe can't sleep, years of drug use and nightmares. So, this is how he spends his time while Fred hides his love for men, and Daphne and Velma hide their love for each other. He had just wanted his best friend back. Scooby didn't deserve to go like that. He'd been unable to find him too, the one that killed his best friend. He pulls out a joint and lights up to relax. Scooby's body had been mutilated, and he'd been left to die. The symbols looked familiar on this woman looked similar to those on Scooby. There had to be others. There fucking had to be. If he had to hear any more of Velma's existentialist bullshit about his death, he was going to lose it. He looks through files and pictures and crime scenes. He wants to find something. There has to be something, but it's fine. He doesn't sleep anyway. He'll find it. \n\nCut to three years earlier:\n\nScooby tracks the man down the tunnel. Shaggy follows close behind. Scooby runs full blast. The Great Dane jumps on the suspect's back and takes him down. Shaggy catches up and handcuffs him and pulls him to his feet. He rips off his mask. \n\n\"Scooby Doo and Shaggy, of course. I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling assho-.\" Shaggy pistol whips him and forces him back to the tunnel exit.\n\n\"Richard Mullens, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.\" \n\nFred and Velma wait for them outside. They have caught another serial killer. This dressed like a demon. Shaggy holds him by his collar and notices a symbol tattooed on the back of his neck. \n\nShaggy wakes up from a short sleep and begins his search anew. ", "TRUE DETECTIVE\n-\n\nFred Jones: Played by Ryan Gosling\n\nShaggy Rogers: Played by Josh Holloway\n\nOpening Credits (Abstract outlines of Shaggy, Freddy, Velma, and Daphne appear, mixed with swirling colors of tan, orange and silver colliding with atmospheric silhouettes of forests, skyscrapers, and masks, set to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4zluA60hjs)\n\nAfter the intro ends, the words: TRUE DETECTIVE in a distressed font and texture fades into view before being swallowed up by the black background.\n\n-\n\n(Slow aerial shot of a sprawling city at night, showcasing the interweaving highway passages connecting with one another like one elaborate spider web of concrete and steel. Tribal drums hypnotically plays in the background.)\n\n(Top shot, birds eye view of intersections and streets and alleyways.)\n\n(Cut to the interior of a van, over the shoulder shot of the driver. Camera switches to show the profile of the driver, his features obscured by shadow, contrasting with the amber lights streaking past him.)\n\n(Shot of the van, paint worn and ragged, pulling into an alleyway. The window rolls down, revealing Fred Jones' tortured face, hardened by years of alcohol and cigars. His orange tie is loosely fitted around his blue collar, attached to a worn white shirt.)\n\n(Cut to a slow, tracking shot of a prostitute, in fishnet stockings, body hugging jean shorts, and leather jacket, barely holding in her breasts. Her boots clicking against the wet asphalt. She approaches the van, and rests her arm on the door.)\n\nProstitute: Hi sweetie.\n\n(Medium shot of Fred's face, his eyes refusing to meet hers. He casually reaches into his pocket and gives her an envelope.)\n\nFred: Get in.\n\n(Cut to an establishing shot of an apartment building, then to a medium shot of drug dealers conversing near the entrance.)\n\n(Cut to a close up of Fred's face, jaw clenched, sleep deprived and vacant eyes, staring towards the ceiling.)\n\n(Cut to a brief close up of a photograph in a wooden frame on his desk, a picture of a red headed woman.)\n\n(High angle shot of the nude prostitute, her hips swaying. She's moaning in pleasure and caresses Fred's chest, but he merely blinks. His face is illuminated by blue neon lights peeking through his blinds.)\n\n(Close up of his left eye.)\n\n-\n\n(Fade transition)\n\n(POV shot of a shirtless Fred staring at himself in the bathroom, lit by a flickering bulb. He's glancing at his outstretched hands.)\n\n(Shot of a smartphone vibrating on the porcelain sink counter. The caller on the screen is Shaggy Rogers)\n\n(Fred picks up the phone, staring at the woman in his bed.)\n\nFred: Hello?\n\nShaggy: I need you to come in.\n\nFred: What is it?\n\nShaggy: Found a body. Possible homicide. \n\nFred: Whose?\n\nShaggy: (Sighs) Just get down here. (Hangs up)\n\n(Fred puts down the phone, washes his face, staring at the stream of water coming out of the faucet. Slow zoom on the stream.)\n\n(Match on action edit to a highway, then to a green and blue van traveling through a dirt, forest path.)\n\n(Interior two shot, with Fred behind the wheel smoking a cigarette, and Shaggy in a dark green blazer and tie in the passenger seat, eating a bag of peanuts, the dull roar of the engine in the background.)\n\nShaggy: 500,000 people in this city. 4,239 go missing every year. Where do they go? You ever wonder?\n\nFred: (Pauses briefly) Someplace better than here.\n\nShaggy: Can I ask you something?\n\nFred: No.\n\nShaggy: Why are we here?\n\nFred: (Looks at him, then back at the road.)\n\nShaggy: This place feels dirty. Unclean. We don't belong here and you know it. After what happened with Daphne and Mystery Incorporated, why didn't you leave-\"\n\nFred: Don't fucking talk about Daphne. We clear? \n\n(Silence)\n\nShaggy: Fine. (Sniffs). You're gonna have to talk about it one day. Your demons will eat you up.\n\nFred: I'm already a demon. What's one more?\n\n-\n\n(Establishing shot of a luxurious mansion, with Fred and Shaggy walking into the swampy backyard past yellow crime scene tape.)\n\n(Close up shot of a leather insect mask. Zoom out to show the upside down, dangling bloody corpse of a naked woman hanging from a tree branch. Flies circling it like vultures.)\n\nPolice officer: Detectives. Neighbor's kids were first on the scene. Accidentally threw a ball over here, climbed the fence to get it, then saw the body. Alibi checks out.\n\nFred: (Puts on gloves) We'll take it from here.\n\n(Shaggy walks around the dangling corpse, chewing gum. Close up shots of lacerations, bruises and arcane symbols scrawled on her neck.)\n\nShaggy: Tortured...lacerations on the tibia and abdomen...I count seven of them...\n\nFred: What are these tattoos?\n\nShaggy: Some cult...\n\nFred: I recognize these.\n\nShaggy: (Scrawls down some notes)\n\nFred: You remember? The masked man?\n\nShaggy: Shit, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast. We put down a lot of people back then.\n\nFred: (Pulls down mask, revealing a deformed face with numerous cut splitting her lips wide open. A message on her forehead is painstakingly written in dried blood. His face contorts into disgust, the stench suffocating him.)\n\nShaggy: Christ...\n\n(Aerial shot of a bridge, Fred's voiceover continues as he reads.)\n\nFred: Man...is the cruelest animal.\n\n(Stationary establishing shot of a abandoned church in a swampy marshland. It's noisy with the drone of the cicadas, and the chirping of the birds. In the distance, a cloaked figure exits the doors, dragging a severed leg behind it. The figure turns its head toward the camera, with the same insect mask found on the corpse. The camera lingers for a few more seconds. Cut to black.)\n\nRoll [credits.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PT2hRzc-zYg)\n\n\n\n\n-\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	3
Nuff Said.	[WP] You are an insect of your choice. Spin me a tale of either adventure, love, or war.	[ " I wish I was a soldier. Instead I'm stuck in the mine, looking for crap to pile with our other crap. Every day I see the platoons march out, all glorious and prideful. They are supposed to be the heroes, not me and my stupid worker crew. \" For glory! \" they chant. They're a bunch of pricks, and I'm jealous of them. Chosen at birth to lead and protect. I could have been one baby before, and got the job. I hate this war. It is giving them the attention. Not the workers who keep our actual home workings. Not a bunch of pumped up soldiers fighting other beasts. \n\nNew orders came in. I guess the Hill doesn't need workers anymore. 10,000 more troops being sent to the Trunk. I'm one of them. My wish came true I guess. \n\nBeen marching for a week, finally arrived the the battlefield, The Trunk. The site of wars between all beasts. Wood Skulls, Stingers, you name it and they've battled here. Now it's us Dark Clan against those creepy Sixers. They are huge but come in smaller numbers. One hundred of us for one of them. \n\nEveryone's dead. Sixers invaded the camp while we were sleeping. 9,000 dead in one night. How the hell did they know where we were camped? I had to leave, I couldn't stay. I had a larger role in the Hill. I liked it way better there. There's a few of us heading back to gather more troops. I hope we can make it before White.\n\nAnother goddamn ambush along the path. How have I been able to survive this long. We lost a strong vet the other day, but I survived? There is only 7 of us left. 2 of the Dark are badly hurt. \n\nIt's all gone. My home, friends, family. Now covered by the Sixers dirty traps. Sixers are patrolling the whole area. There is no way they knew where the Hill was. Impossible. \n\nWhite is here and the last of us camped on a Red not far from the Hill. I need help. We need help. The Clan has allies but they are far in the south. \n\nWith White here we won't make it. I have to get my home back. Has to be a way where we can take it all back. \n\n I bet the Sixers cant see us in White. I'm going to use that to our advantage. I will take my home back. I will. \n\nGot my reinforcements. Time to march on the Hill. 3,000 of us storm the hill. \"FOR DARK\" I ran up, spear in hand I trust it into the closest Sixer. It turns around and shoots it's 8 eyes into my soul. Pissed the hell off that I put something into its leg. More Dark attack it and slowly bring it down. \n\nHundreds more of Sixers climb out of my home. Sprinting down the hill. We finish off our scraps and head farther up. All I hear is wings flap and soon notice our southern allies pick up the Sixers and drop them to the ground. Half of us pick off the buggers and head down into the catacombs. \n\nThose ugly dung eaters tore it all up. Put their damn ropes everywhere, blocking our movement. I start to clear the Hill.\n\nI only feel the sword pull out of my back. I turn to see a fellow Dark smiling . My life begins to escape me. My soul ready to leave. My eyes begin to fade and heart slow. I came back to my home only to be betrayed. The Dark gets over run by my fellow liberators. \n\nWhy. I came this close. Did my brethren need to kill me. Was that his destiny to be where mine was to save my home. In my mind I repeat the those meaningful words. For Glory...\n\nI changed the name of the Bug types so that they would seem different in the bug perspective. ", "Had a new idea. \n\nThe Queen was killed yesterday. Murdered in her own chambers. The guards and servants were executed. Doesn't matter if they did it, just they let it happen. The Royal family ripped up the government. Each one trying to take her place. War would soon erupt in the Comb. \nSides would be taken and the Comb would fall into disorder. The Queens Guard would soon look for new members. The Council had one of the guards executed. A position needed to be filled. No one wanted to become one. Imagine why. Someone died on your watch and the Council would strip your wings and have your head removed. I volunteered. It's easy to do and they pay well. As long as the queen isn't a cunt and makes no enemy's. \nI'm in. My wings were painted in the new Queens royal colors. \nQueen Abavals Totch. Couldn't believe the Totch's got the trone. \nThe damn queens is on a rampage. She declared war against some ground race called the Sixers. She said that her allies needed help. All political talk. She's making enemy's already. Stupid whore. Turns out the Sixers are like a big deal. If they try to assassinate the queen. My job will just get harder. All I do I watch a door. That's is like the best thing ever. I used to scout the Horn Wings hive. Worst job ever. This is like vacation. \nThings are picking up. The troops are mobilizing. The northern allies home was invaded. With white upon us I doubt they will get far. \nCan you believe this! That stupid hoe is sending her queens guard to the front. Says it's a sacrifice she willing to make. It's our bloody lives. \nI am not going to the front! Especially with White here. I ought to kill that stupid yellow whore. Why not. I'll do it when it's Gorst Herch's watch. Yea, kill two morons with one stone. I'm in. \nGorst fell asleep. Idiot. I snuck into her room like a ninja. Her moron face was stuffed into that silk blanket. I pulled out my sword. I cut her head clean off. The door busted open. Gorst was standing there in shock. He didn't have time to react when I flew to him and stabbed him. Shoot. Now I don't have a suspect. No! Why couldn't that swine stay asleep. \nThe morning came slow. The troops left during the first light. I need to leave. All the guards were gone. There's no one to blame. I need to go the the battle. \nI arrived late but no one noticed. The Army cleaned out the Sixers from the top of the allied fortress. We couldn't get inside because of our wings. The allies could though so we let them. I stood on the hill looking into the brush. I hear shouting and notice the allies cheering for victory. They also carry a body with them. The allies thank us and the Army heads home. Not me though. I stay around to see a funeral. This one apparently loved to fight. \nMy wings are cut off before I see anything. A Queens Guard is standing over me. Gorst. All the allies watch as this unfolds. The sword cuts through my shoulder and my life seems to fade. Gorst spits on me and says the last thing I will ever hear. \"traitor\" \n\nSort of of a spin off", "They were fucking everywhere, man. It was an ambush.\n\nMy name is Buzz, and I'm part of the third airborne. What we were prepped and briefed for was a short, surgical strike on the hill.. But when we got there, we found out that was easier said than done.\n\n\"They're all around us, man!\"\n\n\"Stay cool, Buzz. Stay cool. This is no time to be losing your head.\"\n\n\"You're right, you're right.\" But as I surveyed the ground, I knew we were outnumbered, out-matched. They had no air-support, but the horror of the situation was, they didn't need it.\n\n\"Okay, we're going to set down, and investigate.\"\n\n\"Bullshit. No-fuckin-way. Have you taken a look around lately? We'll be torn to shreds the second we touch dirt.\"\n\n\"You can't think like that.\" Yes, I could. That was what saved me. They swarmed over Wasp, and he was as good as dead. Those sounds he made during his final minute or two upon this earth, I will never forget.\n\n\"Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!\" They were everywhere. The ground was like a moving carpet, made up of thousands of these pricks. You kill one, two more pop up. I remember just going berzerk, and waking up in the fucking hill, inside of shit-mountain so deep I had no realistic hope of ever breathing fresh air. That's when I heard his voice... The voice of someone I had thought dead for a long, long, time.\n\n\"Soldier.. Why do we fight?\" It couldn't be.\n\n\"Hertz? You're supposed to be dead.\"\n\n\"If the brass had their way, I would be. Look around you, Buzz. What do you see?\" Nothing but a carnival of death, heads on sticks, bodies torn to pieces in a macabre display of savagery.\n\n\"I see a fuckin' slaughter.\"\n\n\"You're letting your bias get in the way of the truth. This, this is war. This is how you run a war.\"\n\n\"By killing your own fucking people?!\"\n\n\"Do you know how I got to where I am these days?\"\n\n\"No, and I don't fucking care!\"\n\n\"I.. I was on a recon mission. Or that's what they said. The two assassins they sent along with me seemed to think about it a little differently. Well, I wound up putting holes in them before they could do the same to me.\"\n\n\"You've gone bat-shit. You killed Wingly, and Flaps. .I mean, you're hanging around these savages, what, so you can play God?!\"\n\n\"This isn't a game, despite what the officers seem to think. But it can be won.\"\n\n\"Earth to Hertz. I do.. not.. give.. one.. SINGLE.. shit.. about your fucking life story.\"\n\n\"I came out here to do some good. And can't you see what my forces have accomplished? A truce, between ground and air.. We have the perfect society.\"\n\n\"There are an awful lot of severed body parts for this to be an ideal society, you twisted son of a bitch.\"\n\n\"We'll see what you think in a week or two.\"\n\nThis was my life now. Enduring megalomaniacal rants from some cracked colonel, who should have had his brains splattered a long time ago. Instead, he had made himself God. God of the air, and ground. This couldn't go on forever.", "It's tiring, but I move with purpose. I must find more. \nI walk, carefully, quietly. I think I've seen movement near the stem of that plant. I approach. I have to get within range before it senses me.\n\nOne of my burden adjusts its position. I'm momentarily distracted, but it's enough. My prey has spotted me. I'm lucky, it has no wings, and it's smaller than me, so I run.\n\nI can't maintain a sprint for long. Thankfully, my longer legs bring me within range. I leap. The six-legged food turns and my mandibles miss. It bolts out from under my legs and directly away from me. Mistake. I leap again, and this time my venom strikes home. The critter is held in place. My instinct is to consume it quickly, but I restrain myself. \n\nI feel the movement on my back. My children have noticed. Dinner is served, little ones. They clamber, leap, and fall, racing to be the first. They make short work of the meal. Then they scramble back onto my back. I'm moving before the last one has made it up my leg.\n\nI see a cousin. She's slightly smaller than me, her eight legs spindlier. A web-spinner. Perfect. She does not fear me. Normally she would have no reason to, as she's too much of a meal for just me, but I am not hunting for myself. I catch her on my first leap, and this time, I feast alongside my children.\n\nI move again. One of my children falls. I extend a leg to him, and he skitters back into place. The food has energized me. I'm ready now. I must keep hunting. My children depend on me. \n\nI pity my poor cousin. She simply lays her eggs and wanders away. Even had I spared her, she'd never know what it's like to love a child. To care for it. To hunt for it. Only my sisters and I know. We are special. Unique among arachnids, we know what being a mother truly is. \n\nWe are Wolf Spiders." ]	4
	[WP] You print out every thing you think from birth to death. On your death-bed you re-read your thoughts.	[ "\"Really!? Really, brain?\" thought William, reading a printout of his thoughts.\n\nA giant scroll stretched out into the distance, he couldn't see it's end beyond the horizon. He seriously hoped that nobody would pick up the scroll and start reading it as well.\n\n30% of the words were related to boobies. Another 30% was worrying about how he looked like. Remaining ones were reddit comments.\n\nIt wasn't obvious when he was thinking it, but now it was way too clear.", "* \"uh..\"\n* \"Hungry\"\n* \"Discomfort\"\n* \"Happy\"\n* \"Hungry\"\n* \"Pain\"\n* \"love\"\n* \"Mommy\"\n* \"Dada\"\n* \"Nana\"\n* \"Don't like being away at daycare\"\n* \"Friends\"\n* \"Play\"\n* \"Outside\"\n* \"Music\"\n* \"No\"\n* \"No\"\n* \"No\"\n* \"Why?\"\n* \"Why?\"\n* \"Why?\"\n* \"I don't like this\"\n* \"Don't like vegetables\"\n* \"I want Chocolate all the time\"\n* \"Don't like school\"\n* \"I hate homework\"\n* \"Exam times\"\n* \"Stress\"\n* \"I like nancy, she is my best friend\"\n* \"Why am I not taller than everyone\"\n* \"Why is there hair everywhere\"\n* \"I hate school\"\n* \"I just want to be alone\"\n* \"I love my life\"\n* \"I will do anything to be with Jamie forever\"\n* \"I like flying.\"\n* \"I'm going to be an Astronaut or a Quarterback one day\"\n* \"Stressed out because of exams\"\n* \"I don't understand why I have to study all this History\"\n* \"I don't know why Derrick won't talk to me anymore\"\n* \"Am I Cool? Do I look good?\"\n* \"I need to get a tattoo\"\n* \"I need to try smoking\"\n* \"I hate my parents!\"\n* \"I wanna runaway and live by myself\"\n* \"SATs are making me stressed out\"\n* \"I hate life, what if I killed myself and it's all over\"\n* \"I guess I am not going to be an astronaut, maybe a game developer/tester\"\n* \"Disappointment\"\n* \"Party!\"\n* \"I can drink as much as I want and not get hungover\"\n* \"uh-oh, I have to drop out of my major\"\n* \"I need to get my life back together\"\n* \"I am depressed\"\n* \"All I need is my music and my thoughts, the world is too materialistic\"\n* \"All the student loans are piling up and I don't know if I can get a job\"\n* \"I will take whatever I can get and make the best of it\"\n* \"Will I make rent this month?\"\n* \"Cindy is the best thing that has ever happened to me\"\n* \"Wohoo! Promotion\"\n* \"I can finally buy myself a home\"\n* \"I love my new car!\"\n* \"I need to lose this weight! I can't believe what I did with myself\"\n* \"I'm going to run a marathon\"\n* \"Cindy said no, I need to pull my life together\"\n* \"I'm going to trek the Appalachian trail by myself\"\n* \"Promotion!\"\n* \"620 Horsepower Baby!\"\n* \"This is the loneliest day of my life\"\n* \"Nancy! How the hell did that happen\"\n* \"Our new house is amazing. I'm going to fix it all up\"\n* \"I will do anything for my son\"\n* \"Promotion\"\n* \"Stress at work\"\n* \"Stress at home\"\n* \"I have no time for myself\"\n* \"More room and it's safe for our weekend road trips\"\n* \"I hope I can live up to their expectations\"\n* \"Stress is the symptom, death is the cure\"\n* \"How quickly time passes by\"\n* \"We are growing distant\"\n* \"Lonely in a house full of stuff\"\n* \"If cancer doesn't kill you, it will kill your relationships\"\n* \"Why didn't I spend more time with my family\"\n* \"I should've prioritized family over work\"\n* \"I should've prioritized health over money\"\n* \"I cannot see my boy grow up\"\n* \"What the fuck was I thinking smoking all those years!\"\n* \"Oh well, its been a decent ride.\"\n* \"Farewell, world\" \n\nEdit: Added bullets and formatting. Feel free to add to this as you please.\n\n\n\n ", "\"What the fuck am I doing with my life?\n\n\" I should talked to her.\"\n\n\"Maybe if I had taken that job offer...\"\n\n\"What the fuck was I thinking?\"\n\n\"Gods, I am so fucking lonely.\"\n\n\"Where did all the time go?\"\n\n\"Where did all the time go?\"\n\n\"Where did all the time go?\"\n\nWhere did all the time go why didn't I spend more time with her andthekidssomanydamnregretssomanymissedopportunitiessomanyfailureseatingatmysoulsomany...\n\nWhat was the point?" ]	3
	[WP] You just killed my family in front of me and asked me on a date. Convince me to actually go with you.	[ "u/TimetravelingGuide anxiously awoke. Her emotional reaction to what she had just witnessed still overriding the rational part of the brain that was attempting to process what had just happened. Scurrying around her body and noticing that not a drop of blood showed. \"Bad dream?\" I asked her, I hadn't anticipated that she would have remembered me but judging by the fearful expression I saw, she definitely did. \"You monster! Stay away from me!\" She said from the safety of her bed, while violently throwing various books and an alarm at me. The limited light from the moon had made it difficult to avoid the oncoming barrage and a book managed to hit me directly in the head. It was Dune. I tried to maintain composure. \"Amazing book eh?\" Presenting the book to her in a fashion that I thought would help her recognize. She broke into tears once the supposed threat of my presence had been mitigated by my apparent benign intentions. As it allowed her time for grief.\n\n\"Why did you do it?\" Her speech constantly being disrupted by her sniffs to keep the mucus back in her nose.\n\n\"To help you.\" Her brain registering what I had said in an instant and the vehement look of disapproval refusing my reasoning.\n\n\"Bullshit!\" She screamed, her arousal had spiked again, only making her tear up more when she had calmed down.\n\n\"Listen, your entire life has been a simulation. This room is actually fake. But all the require stimulation to your and my brain satisfies our perception. Do you know why you can't remember how you got here?\" She had a look of intrigue that showed she knew I was right, she couldn't remember, curiosity had caught her attention but she still was skeptical. I cleaved the wall with a tomahawk I had brought for this very purpose. The room showed electrical disturbances, the circuit wiring of the simulation chamber was damaged and interfering with the simulation. Some portions of silver metal and plastic wires were visible around the room.\n\n\"It's because you were kidnapped, at 6 years old. I was your childhood friend and I witnessed everything, but there was nothing I could do about it.\" I somberly explained, looking down in self-contempt. \n\n\"I spent my entire life researching, I wanted to know why they kept you here. Where they were. Who they were. What they were doing.\" The last sentence evoking a tear of my own. \n\n\"It's been 19 years, TimetravelingGuide. Please, go with me. If not for me then at least for yourself.\" I wearily demanded extending my hand to her, the tears flowing from both of us. It was hard for her to process, but the smile she gave me had told me she believed me. And that she knew exactly what I meant by that last sentence.\n\nShe gave an empty stare, a sign that she was considering everything that had just happened to her. Her eyes returned back to mine. Now she was the one who would save me.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nP.S. Sorry if you aren't actually female OP.", "\"I know what I did was despicable, but I have loved you from the very moment I laid eyes on you. You've made me want to change who I am. You know I would never hurt you, but your family would never have approved our relationship, they just couldn't see past my problems I had in the past or our age difference. Will you please just give me a chance? I will make it up to you I promise. And if you don't like it you can see your family again." ]	2
	[WP] You work at Nasa during an interception of an incoming transmission from deep space. The message is in English.	[ "I tried to decode it. The rest of my coworkers were huddled behind me, contemplating in silence what the message could be. \"Where's it from?\" asked a voice from the space behind me. I stuttered my response as best as possible. \"It's... it's from the Sagittarius group... looks to be M55...\" It was only 31 seconds ago that we had started to receive the message. \"Jerry! What's it say?\"\n\nAt first it was just numbers. I read them out. \"6... E... Q... U... J... 5...\" \"That's from the hydrogen line! It... isn't possible, is it? It couldn't be...\"\n\n\"Jerry! We found it again! It's... the signal!\"\n\nI remembered looking for the signal before. 50 times I'd looked, using various arrays and telescopes. 50 times, I'd failed.\n\nThe message didn't stop at the numbers. This time, it carried on. 72 seconds past the beginning, it went something like this: \"Wo bist du, Siz harada, Kŭde si, Missä olet, vau zenen ir, Where are you...\" I froze. It was as if the Earth had stopped rotating. Time had stopped. That message wasn't a mere message. It meant something. My legacy had been fulfilled. \n\nIn commemoration of finding it again, I took my red pen out of my pocket, and circled the string of numbers. Next to it, I wrote the same word I had written all those years ago, around the same string of numbers.\n\n\"Wow!\"", "It's hard to stay awake at 4 am, even when lives depend on your attention. The lights stay bright in FCR-1, no matter the time of day. When Jordan joined NASA, he never dreamed he'd hit a dead end, night shift CRONUS for years, but someone had to make sure our team up there could talk to us. Sometimes he prayed for a disaster just to break the boredom.\n\nIt was an especially dull night. ISS hadn't had a spacewalk in weeks, all their research was of the dull sort.\n\n\"........I....etur....on\"\n\nThe audio came out of nowhere. There were no scheduled communications and no one should be awake.\n\n\"I've returned! We've won!\"\n\nComing through clear now, it didn't sound like any of the familiar voices he'd been used to hearing during regular briefings. The accent seemed foreign, but the man was excited.\n\nJordan whispered into the microphone, whatever this was, he wanted this to be his for now. Could this be a foreign player in space that NASA had no knowledge of. Could this be first contact? Maybe, finally, he would be known.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nThrough the soft hiss of empty static, it felt like the stranger did not expect to hear this and was choosing his words carefully.\n\n\"My name is Phidippid, the expected messenger, who are you?\"\n\nPhidippid, what nationality was that name?\n\n\"This is Jordan Wright with NASA Flight Control. Where are you hailing me from?\"\n\n\"Where else would I be coming from? Wormhole 1D67, right outside the orbit of the remains of Pluto.\"\n\nRemains of Pluto? Jordan's palms started sweating. What could this be? Is this a joke?\n\n\"What do you mean, we've won?\"\n\nThe voice was silent for what felt like an eternity.\n\n\"What year is this?\"\n\nJordan didn't reply.\n\n\"What year is this?!\"\n\nJordan choked out the words.\n\n\"2015\"\n\nThe silent static felt like years. This has to be a joke. But who else would be able to contact mission control? The voice finally broke the silence, filled with sadness and pity.\n\n\"I'm so sorry. Good luck.\"\n\nJordan sat dumbfounded. This had to be a prank. What did he mean, good luck?\n\n\"What? What are you talking about!!\"\n\nNothing. \n\n\"I know you can hear me! Who are you really? What's your game?\"\n\nNothing.\n\nNo reply.\n\nAn hour later, Jordan's confused stare was broken by a voice he had heard hundreds of times before.\n\n\"Houston, this is ISS. I'm sending a video feed now, you won't believe what we are seeing...\"", "I had zoned out so it took 3 hellos for it to register. I dropped my feet off the console and sat upright.\n\n\"Hello? Hello?\"\n\n\"Hello\" I said \"Who is this?\"\n\n\"Is this earth?\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"Hi, I'm calling on behalf of hydrogen duct cleaning, do you need your hydrogen ducts cleaned?\"\n\n\"Uhm, no. Wait hydrogen ducts?\"\n\n\"Did you know that improperly cleaned hydrogen ducts can lead to your energy bill being up to 3 billion standard credits higher than properly cleaned ducts?\"\n\n\"I don't even have hydrogen ducts\"\n\n\"You don't?\"\n\n\"No\"\n\n\"Well would you like us to come by and install some for you?\"\n\n\"No\"\n\n\"Why not\"\n\n\"Because it would kill me\"\n\n\"Oh don't be so over dramatic, our prices aren't that high\"\n\nI ended the transmission. I checked the computer, this wasn't someone going for the most original prank call ever, the transmission had come from somewhere far, far away from here.\n\n\"Hello? Hello?\" It was a different voice this time, younger somehow\n\n\"Hello\" I said\n\n\"Is your bragelsnax blorgeing?\"\n\n\"Uhhm…\"\n\n\"Then you better go smacxhix\" there was laughter and then a click.\n\nI checked the computer again, this was a prank call, but one that came from roughly the same place as the first guy.\n\n\"Hello, Hello?\" I couldn't tell if it was the same people as last time.\n\n\"Can I speak to last zyyyx first name garack?\"\n\n\"Garackzyyyx?\"\n\n\"Ha you said ha ha. This asshole said garackzyyyx\"\n\nThere was a click.\n\n\"Hello, Hello?\"\n\nI sighed and opened a channel.\n\n\"Oh wait I've got one I've got one\" a different voice came on the line \"I'm going to cut off your shpoogle and shove it straight down your makzicks you shacrat yeeeeex\"\n\n\"Holy shit Kyle\" said a voice in the background \n\nThere was a click.\n\nI checked the computer, same co-ordinates as last time.\n\n\"Hello, Hello\" It was a deeper voice this time, like someone might use if they were trying to hide their real one.\n\n\"Hi, before you say anything why don't you take whatever you're using to transmit this and shove it up whatever orifice you shit out of\" \n\n\"What did you just say to me\" on second thought that might have just been their real voice\n\n\"I uhm…\"\n\n\"For years we have been observing humans, learning their language and culture, learning of their desires to go to space and then when we finally make contact you tell us to take our Keeyzu-ach's and shove them up our Yeee-zoc?\"\n\n\"Uhm that was\"\n\n\"Before we can even make an offer to share our space faring technology?\"\n\n\"You know what…it's take your kid to work day and that was…uhm…someone's kid. I think who you really want to talk to is my supervisor. Let me just…Mike\"\n\n\"And now you lie to us, attempting to hide behind your young?\"\n\n\"There actually was…a uh…kid in here…a second ago\"\n\n\"The mighty Reeon Empire will not be disrespected like this\"\n\n\"Not disrepect, just a…uh…kid\" I said, digging the hole deeper and deeper\n\n\"Our advance ships will be in your atmosphere within two days\"\n\nClick.\n\n\"Oh boy\"\n\n\"Yes\" said my supervisor\n\n\"Oh hey, yeah, hey I'm gonna…I'm gonna go now so yeah\" I stood up \"So yeah slow day slow day oh and uh\" I started squeezing by him through the door frame \"You might want to call the president because we are about to be…invaded ok bye\"\n\nAnd then I took off running down the hall.", " I was sitting at my desk at Mission Control, which has changed a lot since the times of the Apollo program: Nowadays, instead of using the huge room pictured as \"Houston Mission Control\" in most movies, missions are generally given a relatively small room to work from. But I digress.\nTwo months ago, the Trans-Belt Communicator was launched into high orbit, with its mission consisting of emitting and detecting deep space signals. The launch was a success, and so the mission began. The TBC began to emit a deep space signal in english, the words being \"Hello, we mean no harm. We're humans and we inhabit Earth.\" It was more of a test message than anything concrete to be honest, even the Golden Disk on board Voyager 1 had a better chance of inciting an extraterrestrial response. It was a message in English, for God's sake.\n\n The night shift was usually calm: I usually just carried around an Ipad which showed live data from the TBC and went to the lounge to watch TV or browse the Internet. At around 2am, an alarm went off and the Ipad beeped to show this. I wasn't too concerned, as some types of radiation made alarms a regular occurrence, and so I silenced the alarm. However, within 5 minutes, it happened again. Intrigued, I returned to my desk and begun to analyze the data coming in. Needless to say that I was shocked.\n\n The data turned out to be a message. It read: Who are you? Nervously, I typed commands for the satellite to send a message: We're humans. We are peaceful. Who are you?\nThe minutes seemed to pass slowly as I waited for a response. Meanwhile, I called my boss and told him about what was happening, and he was driving as fast as he could back to HQ. The next message arrived before he did: We're lonely. Can we visit?\nStunned, I answered: Who are you? What do you look like? The answer was fast, almost instantaneous: You will soon find out.\nI felt myself go limp, and I felt as if I was no longer in Mission Control. For that matter, I felt like I was no longer on Earth. My mind was blank, I couldn't think or remember anything. I felt something puncture the skin on my right arm, and I passed out." ]	4
	[WP] Give me a story of an alien where they only live for 60 seconds	[ "\"Look. The eggs are hatching.\"\n\nUnder the constant warmth of a heat lamp, a handful of green orbs begin to tremble slightly. The pressure exerted by the eggs' occupants causes the thin shells to crack.\n\nThe Vigilants scurry over, long appendages dragging their lanky forms across the bunker's concrete floor with surprising ease. The wonder of a Hatching was not something that many saw often.\n\nThe cracks were spreading, and the new spawn were about to emerge. Six aliens push forward through the throng. The Inspectors have arrived just in time.\n\nThe bunker's walls reverberate with the cries of the newly born.\n\n\"That one looks promising.\"\n\n\"What about that one? She looks like she could make a great soldier.\"\n\n\"Hmm...slightly deformed. I'm sure the auxiliaries could use it.\"\n\nAnd in that manner, each of the tiny creatures were selected, sorted, and sent off to be trained. The Empire required ever more soldiers as the Great Struggle dragged on.\n\nSuddenly, a great klaxon sounds. The bunker's occupants, long since used to the constant drills, dutifully follow procedure.\n\nA booming voice comes over the PA system.\n\n\"This is NOT a drill. Repeat, this is NOT a drill. Citizens must enter their isolation pods immediately. All soldiers report to your stations.\"\n\nThe organized march suddenly fell to chaos. No one could hear themselves even think over the screams, and many died under the feet of others in their hurry to escape, get out, go deeper.\n\nThey had thought it would never happen. That they would be safe here, in the Empire's final great bastion of defence. They were wrong.\n\nThe Humans had arrived.\n\nIt was over.\n", "We'd just arrived and the reports were accurate. Adrenaline swirled through us all.\nA metallic pod lay before us, firmly lodged in the ground.\nSteam rushed free from ruptures in the metal plating. \n\nThough this wasn't the cause of our excitement. \n\nOne segment of the pod had been completely torn off, exposing a bright pink jelly-like\nentity. Tentacles covered its body, intertwined with a web of cords strung inside. It was alive.\n\n\nA large central tentacle tracked the team as they paced by performing their duties.\nThe pod had been violently crushed on impact, magenta goo oozed out.\nIt was dying. \n\nWithout the knowledge to save it we could only observe. \nTentacles twitched with each xenon flash of the camera. Shortly after the final\ntissue sample the central tentacle lowered. The creature lay still. \n\nWe were no longer alone." ]	2
	[WP] write a story that sounds sad until the very end...or a story that sounds happy until the very end.	[ "She had left. She pulled herself from his grasp. He would control her no longer. She was her own person now, no one to hold her back. She could finally feel free, have fun.\n\nHe was devastated. He was okay that she cheated, he forgot that. Then she just left? Why? ", "When I was 9 we used to brag to each other.\n\n\"My parents bought me a rocketship for my birthday!\"\n\n\"My parents bought me a bike for my birthday!\"\n \n\"My parents gave me $50 dollars for my birthday!\"\n\n\"My parents gave me a dog for my birthday!\"\n\nWhich didn't really do much as we all lived in an orphanage, we liked to pretend we all had parents.", "\"Don't do it! Don't jump!\" cried a lone voice from below, \"you can do so much more with your life!\"\n\nIt was all he needed to hear. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stepped away from the ledge. He didn't have to do this. With a wordless wave of emotion to the crowd below, he stepped towards the ladder.\n\nYet another Olympic diver leaving a promising career due to anxiety problems." ]	3
	[WP]Using the word literally in a sentance all of a sudden makes it literally happen.	[ "White Girl texts her friend: My parents won't let me go out. I am literally dying. \n\nThe next day child services and the local police department investigate the family to try and reach a conclusion to how a seemingly heathy young woman has died suddenly and without warning. No signs of trauma further confound the investigation teams. The family is distraught. The funeral is in four days. ", "I am literally the most handsome, wealthy, smart, and kind man in the world and I always will be.\n\nLiterally literally doesn't make things literal anymore.\n\nFrom that day on, everyone in the world was made ugly, poor, dumb, and selfish to accommodate my wish, and there was nothing I could do about it.", "George felt happier than ever, in a disgustingly sick way.\n\nHe wasn't proud of it. It wasn't right to feel this way, but how would you feel if suddenly the people you hated the most just disappeared? It would be like being a completely successful Hitler, but without all the blood being on your hands.\n\nGeorge was gleeful but ashamed as the annoying white girls all around him literally died, their starbucks coffee still hot as their bodies hit the ground. ", "All of a sudden one day, millions and millions of tweens and teens just literally died. It was tragic. On one hand many people were now having sex in the sky, as they were apparently \"literally high as fuck\". Suicide rate rocketed as millions of college students were \"literally wasted\" and as a result their realization that their lives no longer mattered they committed suicide. \n\nThis is where the world ends. Millions of gamers were apparently \"literally the best\" and so this caused an imbalance so big the universe collapsed on itself. Now, I am literally finished with this story.", "\"Dude you won't fucking believe it.\" Jeremy's voice sounded ecstatic over the phone. \n\n\"Whats going on?\" I asked.\n\n\"They fucked up. I'm holding a copy of Fallout 4 in my hands right now.\" The words hit me and I couldn't believe them.\n\n\"JEREMY I AM LITERALLY SHITTING RIGHT NOW\" Screaming into the phone, I felt a strange twinge in my stomach as my brown starfish widened to the size of a golf ball. \n\nI tried to clench my rim to the size of an atom only to have it split by the nuclear explosion that was the turd tsunami. I dropped the phone, Jeremy's voice getting fainter as the phone fell away from me. My trousers were positively pumped with poop in 30 seconds flat. \n\nI ran to the bathroom to assess the damages. Why did I immediately start shitting and why couldn't I just hold it back as usual? I took a quick shower and put on a fresh change of clothes when my phone started ringing from the other room.\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\"Dude what the fuck? Why'd you hang up me? You're literally an asshole.\"", "It was ridiculous, really. That I'd even be saying this just flat out boggles my mind, but don't use \"literally\" when you mean \"figuratively\". Your life depends on it.\n\nI guess you wouldn't know why? Would you? You're too young, you weren't around when it started. When they came from the out in the black, a decade ago.\n\nThis... this race studied us, monitored our communications. They hijacked our satellite transmissions and they learned. Their goal, I believe, was to enslave us. To take over bit by bit as benevolent rulers, before putting us to work doing God-knows what, but how should I know? How should anybody know? They didn't stick around long.\n\nThe problem with the Internet is that people aren't who they really are. The net distorts us, makes us our extremes. At some point they picked up on how annoyed we got when somebody misused \"literally\". They figured they'd make it their first rule. They built a big old box up in orbit, hooked up to our surveillance satellites, and a bit of their own tech mixed in. I don't know how they did it, I wish I did, I wish anybody did.\n\nAny time somebody uses \"literally\" instead of \"figuratively\", what they describe comes true.\n\nThe first few days, we didn't know what had happened. There was no communication from they, no announcement. Just deaths. Hundreds of thousands of deaths. Coroners were perplexed. A hundred thousand American tweens with aneurysms; a scattered billion all over the globe with heart attacks. There was no infrastructure to deal with it. The dead mountain grew ever higher.\n\nOver the next few weeks, we came to terms with our new reality. People began to abuse it, murder, theft, destruction. Our powers were limitless, even if we still didn't know much about their origin. Clever minds tried claiming they literally knew where their powers came from, but nothing happened. They probably had a few fail-safes built in.\n\nThe psychopaths didn't take long to start a grizzly game of one-upmanship, and soon everybody was sharing statements, recipes of reality that would defend them from attack. A new arms race began at a pace unprecedented. By the end of the first year, most of the Earth was empty again.\n\nThey, whoever they were, left not long after. We're alone now, and nobody knows how to destroy that device, or if it even can be destroyed. So, hop up here for a second, that's a good girl. You promise me you'll never say it, ever. Never ever, you promise?\n\nThere, you're all buckled in, and it looks like everybody's saying goodbye. I literally love you as much as any man could.\n\nYour journey will literally be safe, my darling. The launch will begin in a few seconds, I hope the world you end up on is free of this curse.", "I retreated to the vacant seat sitting secluded in the corner of the classroom. These seats, reserved for the unmotivated and borderline retarded, became my own personal asylum. A long standing tradition saw chairs outlying the main group for a student to remain undisturbed as they continued to ignore the class. \r\rIt doesn't feel like the right place for someone like me.\r\rNo student designs a classroom layout. No underachiever is signing off seating plans with his or her principal. No. This is a tradition upheld in silent by the ministry of education. By the anal control freaks ruining my freedom.\r\rOh god. I'm beginning to sound like them.\r\rYou see, I didn't use to be an idiot. I didn't use to hide myself opposite windows, where shadows formed beyond the reaches of the midday sun. I didn't use to be the excluded kid every teacher ignored, easier to be neglected, with the help of a government issued 'idiot chair'. \r\rNo. I simply became the first victim to the dawning of the word 'literally'.\r\rI say 'dawning' as to completely dismiss its existence, like a deadbeat in a dummy chair, before it changed forever. Before it gained weight. Substance. Before it decided to fuck me over for a lifetime of misuse. \r\rLiterally, and I be careful to use it only when identifying it, to avoid carelessly using it again and further ruining my life, now means exactly that. Literally. \r\rI didn't always use to be a disappointment, and I will always regret the day I overreacted and claimed 'I literally can't even'.\r\rI'm SO sorry that turned out to be a terrible joke about an unbearable saying. I thank you if you read this far, like it or not. Please forgive me.", "TRUMAN'S TENTH TERM TRIUMPH TRUMPS TEEN TRAGEDY\n\n This Monday President Truman declared victory after his expectedly short and profoundly insincere re-election campaign. \"I am literally president for life,\" the President exclaimed as he handed out badges to his thrilled supporters. When asked to comment on the 178 teens that died of boredom this week, the president is reported to have said that he literally had no comment, but there is no way to be sure. \n\nStory continues on C7", "It was quite a mistake on my part. I knew the laws of the Literalization. I knew I couldn't use \"lite*ally\" in a sentence like what I said.\n\n\"I'm literally going to kill you!\" I shouted at my friend. He was being really annoying and kept bothering me while I was studying for my exams. I didn't even invite him over.\n\nMy anger got the best of me. I, of course, didn't want to kill him. But us men are bound by the Literalization. I have the slightest chance for defense in court, as I wasn't in a prime mental state. I'd been studying all night, sleep-deprived, stressed, and angry. \n\nWell, the trial's today. If my defense isn't strong enough, I'm literally getting 25 years in a maximum security prison.\n\nFuck. \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	9
	[WP] The City's local Superhero suddenly dies of unknown causes and, for whatever reason, his will leaves all his possessions to you, his arch-enemy.	[ "It was a shock to everybody. I didn't get any satisfaction. I wanted recognition and this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen.\n\nI slipped up more than once around him. He never capitalized. That was his mistake, and now I'm alive and he isn't. A half dozen chances he had to kill me, instead he made monologues about chances. As if he knew what brought men like me to where we are. Heroes just spawn from privilege and protect the fortunate from the unwanted byproducts of chasing the dream. Some of us don't get the dream. Some of us crash and burn and have no way to express, but hatred and anger, because nobody is listening. They go on an on about charity, pulling yourself up by your bootstrap, while filing all us poor bastards away as an afterthought, donating enough to be written off come tax season.\n\nI wanted to be the one to take him down, and stamp out the hypocrisy of the civilized world. Show them they're all wrong, and this whole system is the reason there's such a thing as a villain. That's not what he wanted. He didn't believe me. He wouldn't let me, but he wouldn't let me die.\n\nHis possessions were few. The news stations reported that he left everything to me. He didn't have family, or friends. Couldn't. It was a shock to everybody, but some part of me expected this last ditch effort to pity me. I don't need pity, I need vindication. To show I'm not to blame for my reaction to the system that broke me.\n\nI waited a month. In the first weeks his mansion crawled with police. They tapered off to just a few watchmen, believing I'd never come. I dispatched them unremorsefully, and entered. It wasn't the first time I'd been to the empty mansion. Nothing on the walls, no furniture, no luxury. A facade, with the inside barren. \n\nIn his room, on a simple bed, sat a box. In the box was a journal. On the front page was a taped note, older than the book.\n\nWe're all so quick to judge and damn. Can't they see this is their fault? It's a cycle. We're creating this evil. I want to lash out so badly\n\nBelow it, a note written on the page more recently, addressed to me.\n\nCan't you see we fight for the same thing? The public believes I stand for justice, but that's never been the case. If I stood for justice in our society I'd have killed you the first chance I had. We believe in punishing and erasing our problems. Men like you are to be tucked under the rug by men like me. That's what they wanted. You let your hate convince you that's what I wanted as well. The only thing we have control over in life is our reactions, but you need to know that before you take control. Nobody is beyond convincing.", "\"What do you mean he left his stuff to me?\" I inquired of the lawyer who sat before me. We were not alone though, Alpha's 'super friends' from other cities were present in the large city hall, as well as reporters and civilians.\n\n\"Exactly what I said. Alpha left all his earthly possessions to you in his final will and testament.\" There were beads of sweat across his forehead despite the presence of the other heroes, and he was right to be afraid. Alpha was the only hero who was capable of subduing me, and now he was dead.\n\n\"Fine. Have them delivered to my estate tomorrow.\" I shot back, \"Oh, and if this is a ploy to get your little super puppets here into my home...\" I paused, turned and slowly walked toward the exit before continuing, \"...consider them both dead and a declaration of war.\"\n\nI was alerted of the moving truck's arrival at my home by my security protocols. I allowed them in and they deposited a box at my doorstep.\n\n\"P-p-please sign here... s-sir.\" The scared delivery man stammered. I simply flicked my wrist and his pen wrote down my name in calligraphy. He practically ran to join the other man in the van and they squealed out of my home.\n\nI took the box in, opened it and in it were a smaller box and a letter.\n\n01/01/15\n\nAlpha\n\nJanuary 1, 2015. The very day he told me he was dying. He had been part of an intergalactic team that had saved the earth from annihilation and had been infected with an alien virus. It had no cure and and he would die in less than a year. It was on that same day he made me swear to take his place when his time came.\n\n\"Bill, you know this city better than anyone else. You're the only one I can trust to take my place. They may see you as a villain but I know what you've been doing in secret. I know you monopolized this city's underworld to keep it safe from the psychos who would watch it burn. Please, my friend.\"\n\nThe smaller box contained the access codes to his estate and his power bracelets which can only be used by whoever they are willed to.\n\nTears welled in my eyes as i donned them.\n\nAlpha. A Bastard. My Nemesis. My Friend\n\n\n\n\n\nEDIT: A word.", "\"But you can't just give her all of the Captain's stuff,\" the reporter cried out excitedly. \"she's the villain!\"\n\nThe mayor nervously dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. \"I know that it seems wrong, but Captain Justice specifically stated in his will that all of his possessions - everything - should go to Lady Darkness. We, uh, can't really go against that.\"\n\n\"What about gifts and awards that the city gave him?\" another reporter asked, shoving a mic into the mayor's face. \"Does the Lady get those, too?\"\n\n\"Right, those. Yes, most likely. I don't see why they wouldn't--\"\n\nHis sentence was drowned out by a storm of questions that erupted from the masses. One was prominent and repeated:\n\n\"Are you sure his death wasn't caused by the Lady herself?\"\n\nThat's enough. With a snap of my fingers, I turned off the television set and stared at the blank screen, letting the emotions inside me squirm and churn.\n\n\"Idiots, the lot of them,\" I muttered out loud. I glanced at the boxes that lay strewn across the living room floor. They were damaged, mostly because UPS had all but thrown them out of their trucks before speeding away from my house. I sent flying a charm to flatten their tires. but I have no idea if it hit. Don't really care either.\n\nMiaow. I shot a look at Tiger. The little tabby looked at me curiously. I ruffled his fur and then got up with a heavy sigh. Might as well take a look through his crap. I sliced the tape off the largest box with a razor-sharp fingernail.\n\nMost of it was, just as I predicted, crap. Random non-fiction novels, paintings, and no less than four jigsaw puzzles. \"Are you kidding me?\" I said as I lifted a pair of purple dumbbells. \"He's fucking with me from beyond the grave.\"\n\nThere was a small note attached to his trophy for 'Excellence in Selfless Service to Our Community'. \"Open the small, red box. It's the most important one,\" I read as I tossed the brass trophy into my fireplace. \"You can't tell me what to do!\" I shouted at the note. It didn't respond. I decided to open the red box.\n\nIt was filled with little trinkets, like toy cars and a worn hamburger-shaped eraser. At the bottom, there was a slim booklet. My stomach knotted a little as I flipped the album open and and looked through the laminated photos. There he was, standing tall and proud and smiling, even at age seven, with grumpy frumpy little me next to him. In one picture, I was sticking my tongue out at him, while he hugged me tightly, beaming like the sun.\n\nThe pages after our 14^th birthday together were blank. That's when the accident had happened, and everything had changed. He got lucky - adopted by a family who loved him and grew to cherish his strange powers. I was shunted around like a piece of broccoli on a kid's plate. Remembering, I subconsciously traced some of my scars.\n\nAs I began to put the album down, a bit of white caught my eye. I fished out a single piece of looseleaf from the inner jacket of the album book and smoothed it out. The slow burn began in my eyes as I read it out loud: \n\nDear Sis:\n\nJust wanted to say sorry. Sorry for how everything turned out. Sorry for not being there for you when you needed it most. Sorry we kinda sorta became arch-enemies (I like to think that we still had fun. We fought when we were kids, too! Just not at 100 meter elevations).\n\nSorry I have to go now. I guess being a Captain of Justice doesn't protect you from sudden onset pancreatic cancer, huh? Doctors tried to help me but, well, not much they could do. They'll probably keep it hush for a while. People think I'm damn near invincible...hey, even I did. Doesn't seem fair. Is that ironic? I don't know. You were always the smart one.\n\nLook. I know you and I feel differently about the city - and people in general. I can't stop you from being you, especially...now. But try to forgive, OK? There are good people in this world. I know you're gonna disagree, but I really do think that deep down, you're one of them. You're a good person. I just know it.\n\nAnyway. Sorry for dumping all this stuff on you. I gave away all my money to charities and stuff, but I don't think anybody wants my random things. Maybe you don't, either. Go ahead and get rid of them, if you want. But maybe keep the album and toys? I still remember the 'us times' fondly.\n\nLove you.\n\n\"You naive, optimistic, sentimental, bumbling idiot,\" I said hoarsely. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve as I placed the letter back in the album, where it had been hidden. \"Love you, too. Always have, always will.\"\n\n\n\n \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] You're stuck in a meeting at work and it's taking forever. You check your phone and realize you've been there for years.	[ "The dark room was quiet and blue and scentless, lit only by a projection screen at the front of it. Words and graphs glared out at the meeting, and while the occasional phrase or acronym momentarily fluttered against her awareness, she mostly registered the event as an aching in her eyes. It was tolerable. “Sexual harassment!” one slide shouted. She thought it sounded cheerful.\n\nDavid brushed her upper arm and his thin fingers lingered before he leaned in to whisper. Her phone vibrated. “Can I see you after work?”\n\n“No. I don’t—” She looked around to see if any of the dark half-silhouettes were turned her way before hissing, “Listen, I told you to fuck off, D. Is that so hard to understand?” \n\nHe merely stared at her. She looked down at her lap. 3,273 missed calls. Odd.\n\nToo many moments passed before David clasped her phone hand firmly between his cool palms. “Maybe you could show me.” His voice sounded leaden.\n\nHot wetness forced its way into the corners of her eyes, driving away the ache. It only made her angrier, that he should cause her to feel anything anymore. She stood up abruptly and made her way to the back of the room. Glasses glowed like little computer monitors as people turned to look up at her.\n\n“There! There! Do you fucking see? It’s not so fucking hard, is it?” She hated the quaver in her voice and the thickness in her throat as she said it, but it kept her from shrieking the words out the way she wanted to. The way she would have, away from all these staring eyes.\n\nHe stood up. Many of the faces turned towards him. “It is, Carla. It really kind of is, actually, if you want to know the truth.” He made a helpless kind of gesture and laughed once without joy. “I guess I’m just not very smart. I’m sorry. For everything.”\n\nHe looked at her with naked pity and longing as he began to blur. Faintly at first, then he ached to look at. The edges of the room were an LED blue. Words and graphs glowed upon the projection screen and then melted off, and while the occasional phrase brushed her mind, mostly she just didn’t register the event at all.", "The record executive continued his rant as I listened to my Walkman. He suddenly slammed his hands onto the table.\n\n\"Goddamnit James, are you even listening to me?\" he shouted, despite the fact I obviously was not listening to a word he was saying. \"We need something big, something to put you back on the charts. We need...\" he trailed off with a smile. \"We need a comeback!\"\n\nI took the earbuds out and looked him in the eye while slowly rolling my left pant leg to the knee.\n\n\"Don't call it a comeback,\" I replied, \"I've been here for years.\"", "I really do love the soft chairs in the boardroom. \n\nYou know. The ones that recline so far back it's a miracle no one hasn't hurt themselves whilst slacking off.\n\nBut as I sit here, feathers embracing my back, my mind wanders. What is the purpose of my existence within this room? \n\nIs it to suggest a visage of solidarity amongst the workforce? Or perhaps a glorified chair-weight to bolster to numbers of faceless men clapping? \n\nWait, aren't those two things the same? \n\n The daily meetings have long surpassed any semblance of work, blending seamlessly into the stony inflexibility of routine. Today Dave from sales was, once again, dazzling us with claims of productivity and efficiency, with pie charts and spreadsheets. Might look interesting (or even impressive) to an outsider, but I'm hardly a stranger to corporate bureaucracy. \n\nI stole a quick glance at my watch. Twelve minutes past ten. Just about time for Dave to wrap up his spiel.\n\nTime, time, time. I've been in this room for a long time. Years, even. Almost as long as I've been working here.\n\nNow that I think about it, I guess my 5 year work anniversary is just over the horizon. Maybe I'll have them bring some vodka. After all, five years is a long time at one organisation in this day and age. Not entirely confident I can manage five more sober.\n\nI closed my eyes as Dave's voice faded into a dull drone in the background. I leaned back in my chair, taking things nice and slow. \n\n10 degrees\n\n30 degrees\n\n50 degrees\n\nA sharp clicking sound burst from the levers within my chair, warning everyone in the room that a chair, my chair, was approaching structural limitations. \n\nI leaned further back. \n\nA feeling of weightlessness and nausea, a muffled thud, and the taste of iron in my mouth. Darkness. \n \n\n\nA handful of high ranking executives fled the boardroom with panicked expressions, creasing their expensive suits in the process. \n\n\"The CEO has collapsed in the boardroom! Someone call an ambulance right this instant! Also grab the first aid kit!\", shouted one. \n\nI opened my eyes just a sliver. The boardroom was quiet, at long last. \n\nI fucking hate this job. \n\n", "You ever play the clock game at work?\n\nQuit giggling, I said 'clock'.\n\nThe clock game is you check the time, then you go, \"ok, I'm not going to check the time for a whole hour\", so that \nyou avoid watching every minute in a nine hour day go by. I used to cover the bottom right side of my laptop with \nduct tape to do that. I turned off my phone. Put my wrist watch in the drawer.\n\nIt helps. Sometimes.\n\nNot today. Today is client meeting, and Mr. Trilby is showing our new designs in a Prezi meeting exciting like \nwatching a VHS of The Seventh Seal rewind is exciting. I figured I'd play the clock game with the one on the wall, \nand it was 9:35 just a second ago.\n\nAll right, I'll not look for a whole twenty minutes, I thought, as the client raised his hand and asked, \"Could we \nhave the font for the tagline in a more Helveticaish style?\"\n\nDo you know how many times I've fantasized about killing clients? You have to get creative, after a while.\n\nYou start off with your basic shotgun blast to the chest, maybe a, \"GOD DAMN IT, MR. TRILBY, YOU LOOK LIKE A SHEEP THAT GAVE UP ON ITSELF\" before you fire, and you go from there, as the years go by.\n\nNow it's been seven years I'm here, and it's like fucking an increasingly fat and boring wife. You have to get \ncreative. Shotgun blast won't do, anymore. I'm like those kids addicted to pornography that can't get off to normal sex anymore. It's been seven years and if I want some sort of satisfaction I have to work with katanas and machine guns and stapling clients' balls to the wall and the one where I cut off Mr. Trilby's penis and I use it to stab the clients' eyes, then I –\n\n\"Alpaca?\"\n\nI look up. Mr. Trilby's eyes are on me, and so are the clients'. \n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Is it?\"\n\nOh boy. Is it what?\n\nThe clients are smiling, waiting for an answer.\n\n\"Well, Alpaca?\"\n\nI sigh. \"It is…?\" I say. \n\nThey smile, and so does Mr. Trilby. One by one they turn their eyes back to the Prezi presentation and Trilby goes on with the it, and I turn to look at the wall. It's 9:32, and I have no idea what I just said 'it is' to, but who cares, anyway. I just –\n\nWait.\n\nI check the clock again. 9:31.\n\nNo. Come on. I've had losses in the clock game before, but this is just ridiculous.\n\nI've once looked when I thought half an hour had gone by and it was only seven minutes. It happens, sometimes. But this is just too much.\n\nI look again. 9:30.\n\nAll right, I think that's it. We did it. Mr. Trilby's presentation is so boring it actually turned back time. My life is so \nboring time is not only stopping, it's reversing – like a traffic jam so bad it starts going backwards.\n\nShit.\n\nAll right. Ok. Everything's got a limit, and every man's got one, too.\n\n\"Alpaca, do you have the color pallet for Mr. Trump to take a look?\" Mr. Trilby asks me, the same boring, frozen, \nfake smile on his face I've been hating for seven years.\n\nOn the wall, the clock goes 9:29, and I smile and I say, \"Absolutely, Mr. Trilby.\"\n\nAnd I leave the room.\n\nI need to find a shotgun. Or a katana.\n\n", "I stared at the jelly donut in the center of the table, or maybe it was cream filled, how could I know for sure? No one else was eating, except for Barbara and I sure as shit didn't want to be like Big Barb. Through the noise of the tech guy's voice I contemplated whether the donut was worth the judgmental stares that I would receive. Tod was the worst, he biked to work every day like 30 miles each way.\n\nWhat was this meeting even about? Some guy from the Tech department stood in front of us talking about some new thing that he guaranteed to be the future. He had a virtual display projected on the screen and with each changing slide he would turn and look at us with the same smirk, like he had just accomplished some great feat for humanity. There was some device on the table that I had just noticed because it sat behind the donuts. I wasn't listening to the guy's words until I saw Mike's puzzled face. Mike was my boss so I figured tuning into the meeting to gather an understanding of what was being said was better than having a clueless response to Mike's inevitable question of what I thought of the tech guy's pitch. \n\nThe guy was talking about time travel and how we should put aside our \"preconceived notions of its impossibility\", or some shit like that. I couldn't believe that I was actually sitting here listening to this guy ramble about something so ridiculous. The temptation to zone out was quickly beginning to outweigh a coherent response to Mike's future question. \n\n\"You seem like a smart guy Joe, but what you're presenting here is the stuff of science-fiction. I don't mean to be offensive, but you seem almost delusional in your confidence in this time travel thingy.\" Mike wiped something out of the corner of his mouth that wasn't actually there and reclined back into his chair to await Joe's rebuttal. \n\n\"Why don't you look around at each others faces, do you notice anything out of the ordinary?\" Joe asked. \n\nI looked at Mike first. His receding hairline had ran significantly farther away from his forehead than I remembered. Then I looked to Big Barb, and she wasn't that big. Then I looked at Tod, and Tod wasn't there. \n\n\"What the hell just happened?\" I leaned forward and stared Joe The Tech Guy in the face. He stood there, seemingly content. \n\n\"I've sent you three years into the future.\" He sat down in the chair, put his elbows on the table, rested his chin on his fists and smiled like some proud parent. \n\n\"What the fuck are you talking about?\" Mike asked. His voice was soft and terrified.\n\n\"You didn't believe me, so I showed you.\"\n\n\"Well where's Tod?\" I asked. \n\n\"If he's not here then he probably died some time within the last three years,\" Joe said.\n\nFinally, Tod was gone. It was cream filled. \n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] The story ends with "but that was long ago"	[ "Tulio Cartez, captain of the razee Black Lion brushed a pair of fingers down the length of his goatee. His dark brown eyes stared across the distance between his ship and the Mercarian League vessel, the ensign of that massive trade company flying high on its main mast. From his belt he drew a brass telescope, extending it as he raised the glass to his eye. The doll-size figures on the deck flashed to near life size, the detail fine enough that Cartez could make out the exact number of buttons on the coat of the merchant ship's captain. An older man, his close cropped beard with streaked with grey, the sword at his waist ornate but well used; a veteran sailor. \n\nA young lieutenant in clean navy blue glanced over in Cartez's direction, obviously nervous at the sight of the ship following close behind. Even though the distance made words inaudible, the Ordic seadog knew his Cygnarian, reading their lips with an ease learned in the dimmest and nosiest taverns in Five Fingers. \n\n\"Well, Mallory. I'm afraid our prey has wised up. Their cap'n says-\"\n\n\"I know what he says, Captain Cartez. My sight is the equal of yours with that spyglass. Furthermore, I can sense their emotions, even across this gulf.\"\n\nThe figure next to Tulio Cartez wore a long heavy cloak, its hood pulled low to hide his features. Only the twin smokestacks that poked out of slits made in back hinted at his identity. In his hands just out of sight under the railing was a long glaive, bladed at either end. The weapon was a work of art, the steel etched with words of ancient Caspian and sanctified over countless hours of prayer. He spoke Cygnarian, the trade language of Western Immoren. His voice Sulese accent soft and almost too gentle. \n\n\"They are preparing their warjacks. Have mine readied as well; it seems that they will not surrender with out a fight.\"\n\n--\n\nThe Mercarian League ship grew closer and closer, no doubt its hold laden with priceless treasures from exotic Zu. Perhaps thirty gun ports lined each side of the vessel, the hatches for its pair of stern chasers still shut. No smokestack pierced its wooden deck; the voyage from Cygnar to Zu too long to be worth the space and fuel for coal. The Black Lion on the other hand carried an armament of fifty-four guns and a modern armored paddlewheel, the smokestack of which chuffed thick black clouds into the air. \n\nCartez drew his cutlass an inch or so, making sure the steel slid smoothly from its scabbard. The brace of pistols tucked into his belt were already loaded and primed , the hidden holdout pistol in its place within the well of his boot. On his body he made other sign of the Menofix, touching the cardinal points to represent head, legs and outstretched arms.\n\n\"For what we are about to receive, may we be eternally grateful.\"\n\nThe cloaked man, somehow not sweltering beneath the heavy fabric and tropical sun inclined his head. \n\n\"And lo, there stood the Creator in infinite magnificence and at his feet were the throngs of faithful. May we all kneel in the light of his benevolence.\"\n\nCartez twitched his nose at the Sul-Menite's words. Their brand of the faith was far stricter, less merciful than the rest of Iron Kingdoms. \n\n\"You know, those men were once your countrymen. Likely fellow Caspians as well.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" the warcaster Mallory Corvin admitted, raising his glaive Misericordia to trace an armored finger along its mechanikally sharp edge. \"But that was long ago...\" ", "\"'I remember when all of this was fields,' my grandfather used to tell me, 'But that was long ago.'\" \n\n\"In his day of course,\" Jim continued, \"the town of Gorinsh was indeed fields. The town was barely twenty years young when he moved in to it. It was an old farm, several hundred acres, that was mostly used to raise cattle.\"\n\n\"I never knew it like that. When I was born Gorinsh was a small, but busy town. There were still some signs of the farm, in street names, and the old well that sat in the centre of the market; but for the most part Gorinsh was it's own place.\"\n\nJim smiled as he reflected back on it, \"My mother moved my whole family there when I was barely a toddler. I called that town home for nearly thirty years before I finally moved out to the city. My mother of course lived there until the day she died.\"\n\nThere was silence for a moment. Jim lowered his head slightly, and feigned a smile once more. His mother had been dead for some twenty odd years, yet today it seemed quite fresh in the old mans memories. \n\n\"Y'know Gornish was known for it's pottery. Pride of the county Gornish pottery was. Of course they don't make it anymore, not since the fire. But still, it were the town's pride. Everyone knew someone who worked with the ceramics, be they sculpters, kilns men, or painters.\"\n\n\"But that was long ago.\" Jim concluded, \"Times change. After the fire other companies moved in, and different industries came into the town, but the place lost a lot of it's identity with that. Marketing firms, credit providers, design companies. Silly office jobs for people. No use to us craftsmen. We were screwed over by it. One by one new families moved in, taking these officey jobs, and the hard working grafters got squeezed out.\"\n\n\"In anycase, Roger,\" Jim said, as his grandson continued to stare at his phone, \"Gornish changed. Just like the rest of the world.\"\n\n\"You say summat?\" Roger said, pulling an earbud out of his ear as he did.\n\nJim rolled his eyes in his mind, \"Nah,\" he said as his grandson plugged the earbud back in. \"I remember when kids used to listen to there elders,\" he muttered, \"but that was long ago.\"", " There was a time in my life where Death was just an inconvenience. When the ground I tread trembled, and mountains shook in fear as I passed. The very sky darkened and the sun hid as it saw me.\n There was a time when no mortal man could meet my gaze and those who dared to found nothing more than the wickedness in my eyes.\n There was a time when even Gods feared to speak to me. When the power they harnessed was no comparison to the devil that lingered at my finger tips and on my tongue.\n There was a time when love came easy. Death came quickly. Pain was nothing more than an old friend.\n There was a time in my life when I was a God among Men.\n But that was long ago.", "This morning was uneventful, really. Except that it was the dawn of my existence. But other than that it was just an ordinary day. I started out, quite hungry actually. I began my life by doing my favorite thing-- looking for food. It was something that I rather enjoyed. There was plenty to be found. By looking for food, I don't mean that it was hard to find, but that it was how I spent most of my time anyway. There were so many interesting things to eat. So many indescribable delicacies just waiting to satisfy my joyous palate.\n\nThis morning I learned to be quick, by necessity. Although there was plenty of culinary treasure to be found, it was still a world where one had to be quick. Not necessarily to get a meal, but to avoid being injured or killed while feasting on or even approaching one. But I was quick! In fact, so quick was I, that most things around me seemed to move in slow motion.\n\nThis morning there was plenty of light from the sun in the sky, so intense that I often found myself seeking the coolness of the shadows. Even most surfaces that I touched were uncomfortably hot. But as the day went by there came a perpetual cloud cover that lasted for years and years. It never did rain. But it certainly cooled things down a bit. There was quite a bit of wind, and severe gusts every now and then that also seemed to last for months or years.\n\nAlthough this morning was hot and a bit too bright for me, I wish I could go back to that time. For it also felt like it was a safe time in my life. I can still remember, faintly, the smell of my first delicious meal, the first time I dodged an attacker, the feeling of success I felt as I stood upon the ground not far from where I was born. But now the day is coming to an end and those distant memories are but faded hopes and dreams of another time.\n\nYes, this morning was a time to relish, for me, being just an ordinary housefly... but that was long ago.", "I remember it clearly. I was driving down the interstate, eagerly waiting for the time I would get home and see my beautiful wife and children. The car started to speed up slowly as I continued to think about the warm embrace we would all share as a family. The way the twins' eyes would light up when they saw daddy coming home with arms full of presents for their birthday. And the way my wife's eyes would sparkle when I kissed her gently and whispered \"I love you.\" \n\nI almost didn't see the car in front of me, and everything happened in a flash. I stopped suddenly, a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I realized that I almost could've crashed, could've ended my life. I continued on, though, and tried to clear my head to make sure I didn't rely on luck a second time.\n\nIt was almost as if I was so focused on concentrating on the single lane ahead of me, that I didn't see the semi swerving in the other lane. It was almost as if I didn't see it barreling toward me, toward the driver's seat. My wife... My kids...\n\nThat was my final thought.\n\nBut that was long ago.", "His father was a man. He was sure of that. Much of his childhood was spent with his head half-cocked, squinting, trying to block out the sun as he looked skyward. If he was lucky - if he got the angle right - a respite from the blinding light, a cranial eclipse from which his father's voice emerged. To a young boy; the voice of God. A man was strong. A man was sandpaper and thunder. But mostly, a man knew the world. He knew it backwards and forwards and there were no surprises and nothing was scary.\n\nNow, at age 43, he's pretty sure he won't ever be a man. He knows he's not a woman. He knows he's not a boy. He's something in between not yet named. Perhaps named but seldom spoken out of shame. He's 6 feet tall and strong. His beard grows thick and tangled. But he doesn't know the world. He wonders who will be the first to figure out his secret - that he is a little boy. He is scared most of the time; the rest, angry. Because now he is supposed to have the answers. But somehow he missed it all. \n\nHe has acted the part in the past. He had a woman who loved him and he loved her back. But she was a real woman and needed a real man. He knew that she would discover what he really was so he ran away. He's had jobs. Jobs with paychecks and expectations and disappointments. He knew they would ask him the questions that he didn't have answers to, so he left. \n\nHe spends much of his days immersed in his memories; memories unintentionally distorted by the lens of present experiences. He remembers the comfort, he remembers the warmth, he remembers the man. The man who walked him through the world. He remembers the shape of the head, the sun's edge peaking out from behind. But that was long ago.\n", "It's a yearning we were all feeling. I don't know why. Maybe we wanted it? For some ungdly reason, maybe we needed it?\n\nJessop stares into the corner where his electric guitar used to stand. It was a Southern California blue, a color retrospective of early 1960's coastal rock. He was never very good at it, but he was never really terrible, either. Regardless, now he just stares into the corner, face like a sculpture, expression like a dying light. He was never truly great at that guitar.\n\nSitting next to him is Sara, his adopted sister. At one time, she'd yell at him on a daily basis, ordering him to unplug that sonic blue monstrosity and let her watch t.v. in peace. Sometimes he would oblige, and other times, they would fight. Sara enjoyed the drama, however. Now she sits quietly staring at the wall. I wonder what she may be seeing, swirling in the shadows in front of her.\n\nAbove us, on the second floor, is what used to be the parent's room. Inside, there used to be a large mahogany canopied bed, with matching dressers and closets. There used to be a 55\" top-of-the-line flat panel television, with a DVR and all premium channels one could shake a ivory stick at.\n\nOnce, this house was bright, lit up like the sun, and animated like a cartoon. But then the sickness kicked in, and then the mortgages. And then, the car broke down. And then she died. And then the power went out. Now they just sit here, staring at the walls and ghosts of yard sale casualties.\n\nThere was a time when my children didn't need to find jobs. But that was long ago.", "She had eyes like velvet. \n\nThey looked upon you and wrapped you up so warm, so tight. She had this... I don't even know the word for it, mane?... that rested down her back, reaching the bottom of her upper body. You could always see her leaving, by the woven tapestry she let fly behind her. Her smile, oh my. It was delicate, yet the corners were so harsh. It ridged upwards on both sides, violently placing itself across her face. Like her smile knew it deserved to be their, like she earned her happiness, shit, she earned the world if you asked me.\n\nBut she didn't get the world. Instead she got me.\n\nI can say this safely, I wasn't a bad person. To this day, I believe that, even if it's wrong, I believe it so. I was just a confused kid. I mean, we'd both only left High School. She's going to University, and. And I started fade away, you know? Halfway to 19 and I finally found my first job. Building Mezzanine Floors for a company that looked so good on paper, paying me more then I'd ever seen. Shit, it felt good. Started throwing around cash, we were. We were living as large as a 19 year old couple could.\n\nShe was my medicine to my Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. I was so lost in my own identity that I started branching out into different personalities around different people. I always came back to being me though, when it was just her and I. Sitting in a bedroom, eating pizza's we'd gotten delivered, playing shitty co-op video games together. Resident Evil 5 always comes to mind when I think of this. Buggy controls and a terrible story, playing with a woman who didn't know how to play games. \n\nI loved every second.\n\nI don't really know what part of me expected her to not change by that. The shifting personalities. Eventually she started getting sad. Actually sad isn't the right word. Melancholy I suppose is better. So you know we fought because I didn't understand. We both were confused, scared, cautious I suppose. Months of fighting and arguing. I still remember the words that hurt the most.\n\n\"I love you, but I'm not in love with you\". \n\nI stayed with that for 7 months before I had this beautiful realization. I thought to myself If you love something let it go, if it's meant to be, it'll come back. So I let her go, I ended that relationship. Here's the kicker, I'll tell you something. The second part of that saying goes If it's not meant to be, it won't come back. And you'll be left alone, sad and cold in the darkness that you created for yourself. Because sadness with her is better than the happiness of being alone. \n\nBut... that was long ago.\n\n" ]	8
	[WP] Write a dry text book entry on a supernatural subject, boring to people in the setting, but interesting to us.	[ "From \"Applied Magic: Fundamentals of Teleportation\"\n\nThe Teleport Destination Paradox Matter Destabilization Effect (TDP-MDE), also known as \"telefragging\", is a phenomenon which occurs when a given person or object is teleported into a space currently occupied by another object, causing both objects to occupy the same space and resulting in a physical paradox. The results of this scenario are unpredictable - as paradoxes tend to be - but almost invariably destructive. Most commonly, the parts of both parties which are occupying the same space will either vaporize or - more gruesomely - explosively liquefy. In living subjects, this obviously results in catastrophic and generally-fatal injuries...\n\n[...] A few mages have postulated the potential use of TDP-MDE as an offensive technique - deliberately teleporting solid objects into space occupied by an opponent. However, the high mana cost associated with teleportation, along with the fact that it generally requires the use of a fixed magical beacon connecting the two areas in space (e.g. a \"Town Portal\"), is generally regarded as a serious impediment to any weaponization of the TDP-MDE effect...", "...Energeia contain about 15 units of magic per gemstone and cannot be used for any commercial means other than powering runes and chakras. Gemstones vary in diameters from about 1cm to 10cm. The only exceptions to both the above characteristics are the ones that are in neon blue or fluorescent purple. Neon blue energeias pulsate infinite amounts of magic, whereas fluorescent purple energeias contain no intelligence but instead amplify a power source through it at a rate of 1.6 x 10^5000 per second. These two exceptions are extremely rare compared to the other colours, and are found at the border walls where it is impossible to extract through any magical or physical means.\n\nEnergeia gemstones have a fatality rate of 2 out of every 7 people who have come into direct contact with any colour other than grass orange. It is advised that anyone who need to be in contact with it should wear Magic Resistance Containment Gloves (MRCGs) and avoid having it be in contact with their magical breaks that are not covered up. Those who have come into contact with energeia should treat the affected area by casting an energy drawing spell on it, covering it up with a MRC item, and seeking magical attention immediately. If their magical breaks start to rift and tear skin, knock them out AS SOON AS POSSIBLE to prevent any magic loss and siphoning.\n\nNote: The colour variation of Energeia is exactly the same range as the colour variation of magic breaks. The reason to why this happens is...", "(inspired by Gunnerkrigg Court)\n\nChapter 10: Interfacing with modern technology\n\n\n...Inscriptions, for example, have formalized rules to their appearances, making it much like the syntax of a computer program. It is highly recommended, therefore, that the novice etheric scientist study some basic computer programming to supplement their knowledge and skills when it comes to integrating etheric means into modern technology. However, as that is not in the scope of this course, we will define any programming-related terms here. \n\nIn chapter 2, the student should have learned that every spell must describe three basic components: (1) the participant(s), (2) the effect(s), and (3) the extent of the effect(s). In computer programming, we can describe the participant as an entity called an object. The object may have some descriptors (which may or may not be present in every spell, depending on how specific the caster wants to be), such as height, weight, name. These descriptors can be called properties. The object can be modified by certain actions, or be able to perform certain actions. These actions, associated with each object, are referred to as member functions. These member functions can be modified by certain variables; for example, one may want a spell to behave differently at certain times of day, making the target glow blue at night, and glow yellow during the day. Therefore, some member functions may require input variables that affect behaviour (in this case, time of day), and some member functions may have output variables (in this case, colour of glow). Now, some spells may also specify a whole list of things for the participants to do. This can be referred to as the program itself, which is a list of different things for the computer to do, in a particular order. In fig. 10.2, we see the example seal from fig. 4.1 labeled with the different components of a computer program. This set of instructions forms the basis of many of the machines we use here. \n\nHowever, our ability to interface with technology using the etheric sciences, using this knowledge alone, is still incomplete; we still need the proper symbols to describe the objects of interest. Using a bit of creativity, students find that modifying or combining the traditional runes can describe many modern creations. In fig 10.3, we see the runes for 'metal', 'lightning', and 'mind' combined together. This can describe a computer. Table 10.1 contains many common combinations and modifications of interest to the modern etheric scientist...", "#Paper Runes\n\nThis article refers to the Rune. For other uses, see [Paper Runes](http://nothing, sorry) (disambiguation).\n\nA Paper Rune, also known as a Paper Charm, is a thin sheet of paper inscribed with a single spell. It is one of the oldest known form of runes, and considered the simplest to both learn, and implement, as it only involves a sheet of paper, and a [scribing utensil](http://nothing, sorry). Invoking the charm, like with any rune, will cause shattering. Thus, paper charms are normally intended as a 'one-time' use. [^citation ^needed] However, there are methods to make them reusable. Paper Runes are often used by those in poverty due to their affordability, and often for spells that are of moderate to advanced difficulty on the [Hasbian](http://nothing, sorry) Scale.", "... is precisely the tool that allowed Abaddon The Destroyer to cast the Great Dragon over the Axis Mundi.\n\nThe Aural Infrastructure cultivated by skilled magi is the real secret to powerful displays of magic. While it's generally considered true that a warlock, sorcerer or necromancer instantly recharges all their magical energy shortly after using it they are limited both in their maximum capacity and also their limited focus. The Aura allows them to leverage their maximum energy several times at once. In this way a mage may appear more powerful than his energy capacity would lead you to believe.\n\nConsider a warlock whose primary weapon, the short staff, makes them a formidable hand-to-hand fighter. What many novice warlocks fail to understand is the immense concentration required to render an energy blast from the short staff. Both during the spell and immediately after it the warlock's ability to focus on anything else is greatly reduced. Even their ability to see a few seconds forward in time becomes compromised as they cast their most violent of spells.\n\nBy keeping a compendium of pre-built spells on the ready inside their Aura, they reduce the risk to their bodies, minds and spirits. A well placed defensive spell could temporarily shift the warlock out of our dimension while he recovers his focus.\n\nAlso consider a necromancer, who's control of the dark arts leaves the body weak. While controlling an army of skeletons a simple blow to the chest from a charging knight would well and truly kill them. But a protective spell that instantly repels metal upon contact would keep the necromancer free from trouble even while controlling a thousand undead.\n\nNot only defensive, the Aura can be used to achieve seemingly impossible feats. Anyone who has seen a sorcerer summon a demon out of thin air might wonder how such magics are possible. Truly the ability to arbitrarily pluck a demon out of some hell dimension and transport them to any place on earth has been proven over and over to be impossible.\n\nInstead the sorcerer captures demons and stores them in pocket dimensions that orbit around them (sometimes by the dozens). While opening a portal to another dimension is quite difficult and would leave a sorcerer exposed for many minutes, collapsing the event horizon of a pocket dimension is a trivial task.\n\nThe lesser wizard or witch can also make use of Auras to compete even with their higher..." ]	5
Edit: AN awesomely bad pun. Damn it.	[WP] Take us on a loooooong walk to a awesomely bad pun.	[ "Not the longest:\n\nOnce upon a time, there was a Czech couple who lived in a small house. His wife told him to go to the supermarket to buy some groceries. She needed eggs, milk, bread, meat, butter and coffee. On the way there, his car broke down and he was forced to repair it. He was delayed, but still carried on to the supermarket. Now, there was a big thunderstorm at the moment causing him to be even slower. By the time he got to the actual supermarket, it was nearly closing. He ran inside and called his wife; he forgot what he needed to buy now. So he asked her: \"Honey, what do we need again?\" She responded, but alas, the reception was bad and the man didn't hear all of it, only hearing that he needed eggs, milk, bread, meat and butter. So he bought the groceries, then took his car home as fast as possible. When he got home, his wife was angry. He asked: \"Why are you angry; I bought everything you needed!\" \"I told you to get the coffee as well, you idiot!\" \"I'm sorry!\" he responded, \"I couldn't hear you properly!\" The wife snapped back: \"Well, it wasn't the first time you asked! We already double-czeched!\"", "So the Jesuits were right. I had no idea. Yes: there is a Masonic conspiracy to rule the world, well not really. It’s more like a war between the Masons, the Jesuits and the Shiite Muslims. \n\n The Masons run a lot of the world; look at how the section called “Skull and Crossed Bones” the Yale – secret society managed to rig the last American presidential election by having 2 S&B boys running against each other. Nice trick that. \n\n Well I had joined the Catholic Side. Made my mother proud. Until relatively recently; I thought all that ‘conspiracy’ stuff was bunk. Well, live and learn. \n\n I was not part of the Conspiracy. The Secret Masters VS the Illuminati. AS I understand it; both sides use the Jews, but the Gnomes of Zurich are 100% behind the Masons. \n\nRegardless, I felt quietly awed as I was flown by private jet to the airport near the secret location called “Masada” in some documents. \n \n Oh, yes: the Catholic Church keeps a sharp eye out for signs of the return of Christ: he’d really fuck things up for them. Apparently there is an ongoing debate whether they’d hand him over to the Masons or what if he appeared. Honestly I think I’d be a matter of who found him first. \n My prayers go with him. \n\nSo I was to join the inner sanctum of one of the secret libraries/storehouses the church had. \n\nThe Catholics collect sacred relics, \nThe masons collect magical artifacts. \nThe power of Christ is Sacred\nThe power of the devil is magic. \nRefer to an item that has powers as an artifact, rather than a relic, at the wrong time, and it will get written down. Of such things – murders and heresies are made. Speak carefully. \n\nPowerful objects…\n\nHere we have the spear of Longinus, the Holy Grail, or rather the 4 claimants to the title and then here, in the middle the real one. \n\n We have several pieces of the Cross-, 11 thorns from the crown, and the reeds that made up the crown itself…\n\nThere on the wall were 4 photographs surrounding a painting. \n“In the center is a painting of the True Grail.” “It’s beautiful, it looks so real, and yet ethereal…” “The painter WAS inspired…”\n\n\nWe carefully reproduced each of the relics before we swapped them with the ones in the churches… Why do you think there is so much controversy around the Shroud of Turin? There are 3 of them you know…\n\n After getting the Sacred Relics out of the churches or where ever we can find them, they are moved to various sites we have worked out as being most advantages… If there ever is a nuclear war: I can give you a list of places where you can be certain that 1) will never be hit 2) no fallout will fall on. (wink) \n\n The fragments of the cross are kept sealed in atmosphere of neutral gases, helium and nitrogen for example – no moisture, not touching, no skin oils…\n\nWe have been seeking a sample of Christ’s DNA for some time now; to no avail…\n Some fear that we will get some, and then clone him… Can you imagine – born of a virgin mother? (heh) it would be a fine prank to pull on the Masons, I tell you what!\n\nWant to meet any of the Scions of Christ? We can arrange it. Sarah was his daughter by Mary Magdalene. And of course his brother James got around some too…\n\nAnd here we have the oldest Relic. It’s a fragment of the Tree of Knowledge.\nno shit. THE tree of Knowledge. Eden and everything. \n \nIt’s about the width of the span of my hand – as deep as my thumb is long. And as long as my arm. \n\nYou can see where it was used as a club by Adam. He took it when he was forced from the Garden.\n\nIt is said that those blessed by it’s touch can still gain insight into the Divine Plan. \n\nYes. It’s the sacred Clue By Four…\n\n", "There once was an aspiring young music stundent. His greatest desire in life was to become a worldknown conductor. He spent 8 hours a day in school, practicing most instruments he could find. He already mastered guitar, piano, bass, violin, oboe and flute fairly well. He spent 3 hours a day lsitening to classical music, analyzing it so he could learn to write it himself. At the tender age of 8 he had learned to read notes fluently. \n\nOne day, he saw an ad in the local newspaper: \"Conducting classes! For beginners and experts!\" it said. The boy was thrilled. Finally, he had found a place where he could learn to conduct. So he went to the community center, to room 213, and was greeted by a rather small group spread out in a room with at least 40 chairs in rows. In the front of the room stood an elderly man, looking like he was passing through his eighties. He smiled a warm smile. The boy carefully made his way through the room. He sat down on a chair in the middle row, which was empty. He counted 13 other people in the room, including the elderly teacher. Most of them were older then he was, the oldest looking almost as old as teacher. \"Probably pursuing a choldhood dream\", the boy thought. \n\nSuddenly, the teacher spoke. \"Welcome!\" He said. \"My name is Tony Stryker, and I will be your teacher in the conducting classes.\" He smiled that warm smile again. \"Let's first of all try out your skills! I will be sitting by this piano\" he pointed at an old, battered piano in the corner, \"and pla, and you will all conduct me, one by one! No worries now, you're all here to learn!\" He once again cracked into that lovely smile. \"So, how about we start with you, young lady?\" \n\nThe lady he had nodded at rose. She was tall, slender, with a hard face. Probably around her thirties. She walked to the front of the room, and stood in front of the piano. The old teacher looked at her. \"Whenever you're ready.\" He said, and smiled. The woman raised her hands, and started moving her right hand in a motion which looked like an anchor: Down, left, right, up. Then she repeated it. She was steady, and looked straight at the man, who played along in her pace. After a while, he stopped. \"Good, good!\" He said. \"Have a seat. Now, how about... Ah, my fellow senior citizen in the back!\" He chuckled a little.\n\nThe old man rose, and slowly walked to the front of the room, his fedora a little crooked on his broad head. He stood in front of the piano, and raised his hands. They shook, and there was no way of telling if it was of nervousness, or some sort of disease. Maybe both. He then started doing the same motion as the woman had done, only not so steady in pace and a little slower. The teacher played along acordingly. He then said \"Great job, really! Thank you.\" The man did a little bow, then went back to his place. \n\nThe teacher looked over the classroom. His eyes landed on the young boy. \"How about you, lad?\" He said, and smiled. THe boy stumbled a little as he rose, nervous and excited. He made his way to the front of the room, in front of the piano, and started moving his hands. It felt good. He knew what he was doing. He had watched so many concerts, he had memorized every move. He started speeding up the tempo. Faster and faster. Suddenly, the teacher started to look worried, but the boy paid no mind. He was having so much fun. The tempo roose and rose, until suddenly... Silence.\n\nThe teacher was bent over the piano. Someone yelled \"Call 911!\", others rushed to his side. But it was to late. The old man had had a heart attack. THe paramedics said it was fatal, but necessereily caused by something in his environment. Despite that, the boy was devastated. He couldn't help but feel it was somehow his fault. His parents felt so bad for him, they decided to move from the town, to escape all the bad memories. And so, they fled to New York. \n\nThey got a small apartment, where they quickly settled in. The boy still was devastated, however. But yet, he still held on to his dream. He was to become a conductor. For years he practised, tried to perfect his pace and his discipline. Eventually, on his 20th birthday, his parents got him the greatest present of all: The chance to conduct the local high schools rendition of \"The Phantom of the Opera\". He was overjoyed. The very next day, he went to the school, to meet with the orchestra and the cast. \n\nHe talked to them, told them his dreams, and befriended them. Then, it was time for rehersal. Granted, the orchestra didn't play so well, and the cast was just high school students after all, but it was all he wanted. They practised hard, and our concuvtor was very pleased with the result. Soon, it was time for the very first show. All the students parents were also, as well as the staff, and some who just wanted to see a cheap musical. The cast was nervous, but seemed to manage it: The orchetra was worse. All the musicians in the orchestra were having minor panic-attacks, and a few were crying. Our conductor gathered them all backstage, and held a pep talk. After it, all the participants felt inspired, and was calm again. Our conductor was pleased, and so the show began.\n\nBut something must have happened, because the moment the first song started, the audience flinched. It sounded awful. It was off-beat, different keys, and the wrong songs. The cast messed up their lines, and the tuba player fainted. A few of the parent walked out at that very moment. Our conductor was devastated: He knew it was his fault. He was nothing more than a bad conductor. He ran out of the school, and took the first train, going anywhere. \n\nHe rode it to the end station before he realized where he was: Austin, Texas. He looked aroud, and wondered what he should do. He a little money, so he found a cheap hotel, and immedieatly started looking for a job. \n\nHe was amazed when the first thing he found in the newspaper read \"Assistant needed at Austin Concert Hall! Prior musical studies a must!\". He thought about it, and then stood up. It was his dream. So he marched down to the Austin Concert Hall, and did an interview with the director. A few days later, he recieved a phone call in his hotelroom: He was hired. \n\nHe worked there for a couple a months, cleaning, tuning instruments, taking care of some legal forms, when all of a sudden the conductor of the orchestra approched him. \" heard you wanted to become a conductor.\" He said. \"How would you like to try to conduct our orchestra, just for fun?\" Our conductor was stunned. He didn't know what to say. Of course he did, but who knew what could happen? He said to himself that nothing bad could happen, and told the chief conductor that he would love to try. But still, he walked with heavy steps towards the hall.\n\nInside, the whole orchestra was assembled on stage. Flutes, Violins, Cellos, Harps, Oboes and percussions, all in one place. It was beautifull. Put conductor stepped up to the stage, and onto the conductors podium... And gripped the Conductors baton. \"Okay, guys...\" He said, shakingly, \"Let's... Let's play Mozart's 5th.\" He starte moving the baton, and it was glorious. usic was all around him, and he lost himself in it. However, as he lost himself, he also lost grip of the baton. It flew out of his hand, and straight into the mouth of one of the violin players. \n\nShe died immediately. Our conductor was charged with manslaughter, and taken to prison. He was sentanced to death, by the electric chair. They gave him his last meal, a last prayer, and put him in the chair. They strapped him up, put water on his forehead, and put on the headpiece. And then, they pulled the switch.\n\nNothing happened. The staff checked all the wires, all circuits, and tried again. Still nothing. They called in an electrician, who looked at the chair, and stated that nothing was wrong, that it should work properly. Once again, they tried. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. After a few hours, the director of the prison walked up to the sentanced man and asked \"Why won't you die? What is wrong you?!\". Our protagonist looked at the director, and said in a tired voice \"I suppose I'm just a poor conductor.\" \n\nCredit to /u/JasonVDZ, who posted on /r/Jokes", "Seen somewhere on reddit before, and not the LONGEST walk, but still pretty good.\n\nSo Kermit walks into a bank, and sits down in front of Patty, the teller. He inquires about purchasing a bond, to which Patty immediately responds \"do you have any capital?\" Kermit is reluctantly forced to admit that no, he does not. However, he is quick to point out, he does have an interesting bauble that he proceeds to hand to the teller - claiming it belonged to his dear father, a famous musician. At this point, the teller has NO clue what to do, so she calls her boss - who has anger issues by the way - over to the desk and ask him about the bauble, which he responds to by slapping her on the side of the head and saying:\n\n\"Its a knick knack patty WHACK - give the frog a loan! His old man's a rolling stone!\"", "So there's this little boy named Bobby. He really likes tractors. Like a lot. His entire room was filled with tractor paraphernalia. He had books on tractors, posters of tractors, little toy tractors all across his shelves, it was ridiculous. Bobby was a nice enough kid but all he ever talked about tractors, so he wasn't exactly the most popular school and as he got older he started to realize this has largely to do with the fact that he is obsessed with tractors . So Bobby decided to hide that part of his life. From then on he didn't talk about tractors in public and because he was nice enough kid he started making friends. So by the time he reached high school he was a moderately popular kid and he ended up going on a few dates with this girl named Myrna. She was pretty nice, but she wanted the relationship to move a bit faster than Bobby was comfortable with. One evening, when Bobby's parents were out of town, he and Myrna sat on his family's couch and made out. Myrna begged and begged him to take things into his room but he still had all of his tractor stuff up and he didn't want her to see that part of him. Finally Myrna can take anymore and she marched into his room and flipped open the door . She saw all of his tractor paraphernalia and she laughed in his face before leaving . The next day everyone at school knew all about Bobby's tractor obsession and Bobby became the laughingstock of the town . He was so upset that when he got home he threw away way everything tractor related that he owned and never mentioned them again. When Bobby finally graduated high school , he decided that he wanted to move far away so he packed up his bags and he applied to college halfway across the country. He was happy to get a fresh start and he soon became friends with his new roommate Dylan. Dylan was a culinary major and he had a girlfriend named Sabrina. Sabrina had a friend named Amy and one day Sabrina and Dylan decided to set Bobby up on a date with her. Bobby and Amy became really really close and after everyone had graduated he decided to propose. Amy was ecstatic and they planned a humongous wedding. Because Dylan had finally earned his culinary degree they decided to have him not only act as the best man but to cater the reception as well. I was going well until the morning of the wedding. Sabrina decided to dump Dylan just a few hours before the ceremony. He was completely heartbroken, but he didn't want to let his depression ruin his best friend's wedding, so he decided to cater the reception anyway. The wedding reception was beautifully decorated and everything was elegant and gorgeous from Amy's dress to the centerpieces of the table . And everything was going swimmingly until Dylan decided to take one too many drinks of his cooking sherry. Soon he was completely wasted and he stumbled drunkenly all around the kitchen. In his drunken haze Dylan set fire to the reception hall. Everyone was in a panic as the fire spread across the room. Fortunately, they managed to put it out before anyone was hurt. Unfortunately, a thick layer of ash covered everything in the room. All of the beauty that took months to plan was ruined. Everyone was devastated and Amy began to cry. However, Bobby was not in the least bit upset. He told them not to worry and that he could fix everything. Then, with a huge breath, Bobby sucked up all of the ash into his lungs. Everyone stared in amazement as he went outside and blew out everything he had just inhaled.\n\"Oh my god, Bobby,\" Amy said with awe, \"How did you do that?\"\n\"Oh, well you see,\" answered Bobby, \"I'm an extractor fan.\"", "One day, a man awoke with... Unique powers. He could create bodies of any liquid in any quantity he wished. He first realized that his cup of coffee was full immediately after taking it from the cupboard. He played around with it... He could create anything that was a liquid at room tempurature.\n\nFirst, he was baffled. Quickly, however, he experimented. He pulled every cup in his house and began filling them with liquids. Everything from water and dish soap to LSD and Mercury. He got concerned with some of the more frightening liquids. Battery acid, Sulpheric acid, and Mercury most of all. He didn't dare pour them down his sink like the others! Instead he willed them away.\n\nLo and behold! The liquids vanished! They bubbled and turned white before fading away! Soon, he realized he could become a super hero!\n\nOr a super villain.\n\nHe had decided. His name would be Man-Pool. He would remove all water on earth and demand a hefty randsome. He immediately booked a trip to the coast of the country he lived in. When he got there, he tried to begin his plan. He willed away the ocean as best he could, but only removed a little bit of a wave. He quickly learned that his plan was doomed to failure. He went back to the drawing board.\n\nHe decided to make money by emptying rivers and collecting the fish. Easier than fishing and he could just refill it after he was done! He went to the nearest fishing spot and emptied a small portion of the stream effortlessly. He continued to will away water as it replaced the missing part while he collected fish. He then took them all to town and sold them. He got a bit of money, but not as much as he'd have liked to have.\n\nHe began looking around for better ways to get money. Eels were sold for a hefty price at a few restaurants. Also there were a couple small channels infested with eels. Farmers were paying to have them removed, but they never were exterminated.\n\nMan-Pool had it made this time. He went to the farmers and told them he could take care of their eel problem. He could also take care of any other water born pests they wanted. But it would be expensive.\n\nMany farmers agreed, but only after they were taken care of. He was happy to do so. He then went to the restaurants and arranged a deal to sell them eels from local streams. They said sure, why not? He got to work.\n\nMan-Pool went to the farmers canals and tried to will the water away. He quickly realized that the water remained. He tried harder. No luck. This anti- hero had met his match.\n\nMan-Pool can't take eel streams", "No one knew what had happened. One day the farm was there and the next day it wasn't. Just a crater in the ground.\n\nThe farmer, Mack McDonald had been away for the evening and definitely didn't know what had happened. Not that it mattered to him, the insurance investigators were certain that, whatever had happened, it definitely wasn't his fault, because they just didn't think it likely that he had access to some sort of unexploded war head.\n\nAnyway McDonald set off leaving his previous farm life behind for a new life living on a beach in some country where the dollar traded strong. He was pretty elderly after all.\n\nAnd while that was all well and good for most people who were pretty certain that this was some sort of one time freak accident that was unlikely to be repeated, there were those who were worried some sort of similar event might take place on their farm and they wanted an official investigation.\n\nThe government got tired of hearing about it so they eventually dispatched a team of investigators. When the investigators got to the farm the only thing they were able to figure out was that the crater had been caused by an explosion.\n\nSo they started in on the usual suspects: meteors, natural gas deposits, terrorists, but after all their consultations with astronomers and geologists and water boarding specialists turned up nothing they were stumped.\n\nBut as it just so happened, the crater had kind of turned into a youth hot spot. Teenagers would come and party and take little souvenirs like rocks and stuff, and one teenager, while inspecting his souvenir realized that what he had drunkenly thought was a rock was actually a piece of metal.\n\nHe turned it into the investigators who, after some tests, made the sobering discovery that it was a piece of metal from an old warhead.\n\nWhile they couldn't track down sexagenarian McDonald they were able to track down a friend of his who said that now that they mentioned it he had seen something that looked like a rocket acting as a support beam in the farm.\n\nThe investigators concluded that McDonald probably had paid no mind to the rocket and upon further research learned that the metal came from a prototype warhead that would have been nowhere near powerful enough to leave a crater that size.\n\nThe investigation had seemed to hit a stand still until one person proposed that the smaller explosion had ignited the methane in the livestocks systems, causing the much larger explosion.\n\nCow and explosive experts suggested that this could only happen if there had been an unusually large build up of methane, so the investigation into what caused the explosion turned into an investigation into what had caused the methane build up.\n\nThe investigators returned to McDonald's friend, who told them that he couldn't really think of anything that would have caused a methane build up. He did say that one thing McDonald did differently then most was that he had blankets for the cows, to keep them warm and comfortable.\n\nThe investigators asked if it ever looked like the cows ate parts of the blanket. McDonald's friend said he couldn't remember but the blankets were pretty flimsy so it was possible.\n\nSo they scoured the sight of the crater, trying to find any scrap of blanket that had survived the blast. Just as they were about to give up hope they found several cow graves outside the crater line, where McDonald had apparently buried the cows with their blankets.\n\nAfter investigating the make up of the blankets, which had seen some decay from being underground but did in fact appear to have been chewed, they came to the conclusion that the bigger blankets, probably made for adults were seemingly fine, but that the smaller blankets contained several compounds which would have severely backed up the cows leading to abnormally high levels of methane.\n\nThe final piece of the puzzle was discovering what had set off the warhead that had laid dormant for so many years.\n\nThis stumped the investigators for the longest time, until they decided to rerun the test on the smaller blankets, presumably made for younger cows, that had been chewed the most severely.\n\nThey discovered that there were actually huge concentrations of marijuana mixed with various other narcotics which would have likely led to the baby cows behaving erratically.\n\nAfter nearly a year the investigators turned in their final report. The two major findings:\n\nOn Old McDonald's farm there were a shocking number of contraband items\n\nand \n\nThe crater was likely a result of a chain reaction of a cow, high on illegal narcotics, knocking over a warhead which set it off and ignited the built up methane. Cause: baby cow weave got bad bud.\n\n…\n\nEnjoyed the story? Neither did I. Anyway check out my [burgeoning subreddit] (https://www.reddit.com/r/SarkasticWatcher/), (B.S for short). Or don't. Whatever.", "OHHH THIS IS MY SPECIALTY\n\n-----\n\nMr. Brown was not having a good day. But, to be fair, he often did not have good days. Not really because of his life, no, get him wrong, retirement is great. With a great wife, a great house, plenty of time, and an adorable dog, he should be happy, but, regardless of his agreeable living conditions, his life was misery. He lived in one of the most putrid, aggravating, downright revolting places in the world: Color Town. It was a place of happiness and positivity, or so they claimed. But, the truth was so much more bleak than that. \n\nAll his neighbors were crazy as hell. The whole pretentious lot of them. Take the Greens', who lived right across the street. The bozos cared so much about their goddamn lawn! Every single day, they'd go out and mow that lawn, or pull some weeds, or water their flowers, or god knows what else! He swears they'd manicure the thing if it had nails. And then their hedges, shaped into the most obscene imagery! They even dared to make a cross in their yard! As if there is anything holy about plants. Mrs. Brown thought it was cute, but how could he write anything worthwhile when his goddamn window was facing right into the gardens of goddamn Versailles? And then there's the Reds', their leftside neighbors, who had the bright idea to paint their house in the most obscene shade of red ever seen. Oh, of course the cars have to get a matching coat, just like everything else in this goddamn town. Isabella and Rudolph, the two buffoons, they just couldn't go a day without wearing some red clothing. Ridiculous. And when the Blacks' moved in next door -- a new bunch of hopefully calm folks to change the mood of the town -- they just made it worse! Now everyone refers to each other as \"Ronald the Green\", or \"Jackie the Black\". As if their last names were goddamn titles! Why don't you inflate your overblown egos some more, you pompous fools? Now, even Mrs. Brown was catching on, talking to everyone as if they were a medieval lord, saying \"the Pink\" this and \"the Blue\" that. It made it all the more infuriating to live in this goddamn town.\n\nColor Town's history doesn't help either. They had plenty of bad press from that terrible Reservoir Dogs movie, which was based on complete and utter rubbish! They were still getting tourists who thought that they could see \"the original Mr. Orange\". Shove it up your arse, he'd scream at the picture-taking mobs of foreigners, stop bothering us honest people with your ridiculousness! But, they just kept taking pictures. It wasn't good that the National Museum of Clue was here either. All in all, this whole town was raving mad and he wanted to leave. Mr. Brown just wanted a nice quiet hamlet where he could write in goddamn peace. Was that so much to ask?\n\nHe was trying to write now, but he couldn't focus with all the frustrating people outside. As he silently fumed, Mrs. Brown came through the study door, caring a a tray of cheese and crackers. As she placed it down on the small table next to Mr. Brown's desk, she was staring out the window, across the yard to the Yellows' house, right next to the Greens'. She smiled and said, \"Well, look at that. They're picking lemons off their tree! I'll have to go over and ask them for some.\" Mr. Brown didn't respond, knowing that any provocation would simply renew the long-standing argument against this godforsaken town. \n\nMr. Brown heard a voice behind him reply, \"Oh yes, I had some of their lemonade this morning and it was just heavenly.\" He turned around and saw the most disgusting sight possible: Mr. Red standing in the doorway, carrying a basket. Mr. Brown didn't know what was more revolting: the hackneyed smile plastered on his face or the hideously vibrant red shirt covering his body. He could feel the anger rising up in his stomach, down there in the place where only his wife's delicious cooking could reach. One of...one of those people! In my house!\n\nMr. Red walked forward and placed the basket on the table next to the tray of crackers. \"Well, hiya, Joe! I thought I'd bring you both a basket of our latest harvest. There's too much for me and Ella to eat alone!\" He and Mrs. Brown chuckled for a quick second. Mr. Brown kept silent, but if this.... creature didn't leave soon, he might soon explode. \n\nFortunately, Mr. Red turned towards the door and said to Mrs. Brown, \"I hope you'll excuse me for running off like this, but I've got a shift down at the station in a little bit and I want to be ready. The weather won't report itself!\" \n\n\"Oh, Rudy, are you sure?\" Mrs. Brown said jokingly, glancing out the window into the sky. \"It looks like the clouds are saying that it's going to rain!\" She smiled back at him.\n\n\"Ah, you would think so, but I'm willing to bet that the clouds will just blow right over us, and we'll get nothing but sun.\" Mr. Red replied, suddenly thoughtful as he too looked at the impending weather.\n\nThis was too much for Mr. Brown. He can deal with distractions across the streets, with interruptions while he's trying to write, even with the neighbors coming into his house, but this! Those people correcting his beautiful wife as if she's an animal? He couldn't stand for this! \n\nMr. Brown abruptly stood up and stomped towards Mr. Red, waving his finger in his face. \"Where do you get off correcting my wife like that? Rudy, you can just take your goddamn pompous attitude and get out of my house!\" He was huffing heavily and he swear he could see flames on the side of his face. Before Mr. Red could respond, Mrs. Brown stepped between the two men and looked at her husband in the face. \n\nIn a calming voice, she said, \"You need to control yourself, dear. He is our guest! And he's probably right after all.\" He spat back, \"How can you possibly trust this idiot?\"\n\nShe looked at him crossly and said, \"Rudolph the Red knows rain, dear.\"", "I apologize for this ahead of time. \n\nSo little Billy knew prom was coming up, and he wanted to ask the most beautiful girl in school; Anna. He tried for weeks and weeks to come up with an elaborate, grand gesture, and finally he knew what it was. He got up in front of the whole school during a basketball game, brought her up on stage, and in front of all his friends and family... she said yes. Cut forward to a couple weeks and its two days before prom, and Anna asks if he has his tux picked out, and suddenly he knows that's the thing he forgot! He runs to the nearest tuxedo store and when he asks the clerk if they have a tuxedo, he responds with yes, they have plenty. So he gets fitted and brings the tux home. Now Anna was asking because SHE didn't even have her dress. So cue to running down the sidewalk and she doesn't notice the crack in the sidewalk coming up, and when she reaches it she steps over it and keeps going. When she gets to the store, she sees the perfect dress and gets it. Okay so it's the night of prom and Billy picks her up in his father's Mustang, and to impress her he speeds a little. Little does he know that there is a cop just around the next corner. As he goes zipping by, the cop pulls out after him. Billy pulls over, and the cop starts to slow down, but then speeds up and goes to the call he was responding to. Billy and Anna make it to the prom, and go inside. As Anna is getting out of the car, she unknowingly gets her dress gets caught in the door. She takes a step and notices she is caught, so she opens the door and frees herself. When they get inside, they head to the dance floor. Anna and Billy start dancing, and Billy starts backing up and bumps into the guy behind him, a big 250 pound football player. Now what I forgot to tell you is that Billy is a scrawny, 125 pound guy, and the football player used to date Anna, so when Billy bumps into him the guy says excuse me and continues on with his date. Anna asks Billy to go get punch, and so he heads over to the side of the dance floor and realizes that there is no punch line." ]	9
	[WP] A brawl between all your original characters.	[ "\"Change your name, twat,\" Jack London growled, hand resting on his equipment disk.\n\n\"Fuck you,\" Jack London snapped back, glaring through his split red-and-gold ballistic mask. The two were, facially, pretty much the same: The first Jack London, a fellow in a green shirt and jeans which we will refer to as 'Alpha', had a few cuts and scrapes on his face, and a stubble growing around his chin. The other Jack London, the man in the suit and mask which we will call 'Bravo', had the same face, except most of it on the left side was significantly burned into a mesh of skin strands and muscle. The two stared each other down.\n\n\"Bear in mind I trained with the SASGIGNNATOSWATPOLIZEIRANGERSUSMCSBSSPEHSSMEHRINES, and you might wanna be steppin' down, prick,\" Alpha said coldly. The bartender, a tall man in a motorcycle jacket, red cowboy boots, and a red-tooth-banded slouch hat, rolled his eyes, and continued cleaning a pint glass.\n\n\"And you bear in mind I was educated and trained at Beacon Academy, cunt,\" Bravo retorted. \"I can kill you in a hundred different ways.\"\n\n\"Try sayin' that with a BFG shoved up your arse.\"\n\n\"Fu-\"\n\nThe argument was cut short by the sound of a shotgun firing twice at both the men, causing the residents of the bar to jump in shock. The bartender, holding a sawed-off with two smoking barrels, sniffed, opened the breach, and ejected the spent shells. As he loaded the next two, he looked to the other bar patrons, who mostly seemed to be women. \"Any of you lot wanna start an obnoxious fuckin' argument?\" he asked. They all shook their heads. \"Good.\" He lowered the shotgun, and placed it into the holster on his leg, before continuing to clean the glass, which was now spattered with bits of Alpha's face.\n\nIF frowned, looking at Alpha's corpse, before turning back to the table. \"I think we should take him to hospital,\" she announced to the other Gamindustrian women. Neptune dismissed her with a wave of her hand.\n\n\"Ah, he'll be fine, he's, like, Doom Guy or whatever,\" she muttered. IF shrugged.\n\nFair do.", "It's interesting how the years seem to blend together over time. The longer we live, the shorter the life seems to be. All of us running from the inevitable. Except me. I learned to walk a while ago.\n\nThree hundred and fifty seven years. \n\nThree hundred and fifty seven years since I first developed the ability to heal. The subject of genetic experiments performed in absolute secrecy until I managed to excape, not without the help of X-1 of course. I had long since lost contact with him, us having parted ways at some point mid-way through the twenty-first century. \n\n\"Felix,\" a voice called to me.\n\n\"Louise,\" I replied as I watched her slowly make her way towards me. She seemed uneasy, her fingers twitching subconsciously and her eyes flicking anxiously as if searching for something in the distance. \n\n\n\"What's wrong?\" I asked, following her gaze.\n\n\"I found myself again.\" \n\nI raised an eyebrow.\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"I know how it happened last time.\" \n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"It was him. And he's found a way to undo it. He found Bruce. He's dead,\" she hesitated then, \"And he didn't come back.\"\n\nFor the first time, I felt genuinely scared. This was some kind of joke right? After several deaths, many of them by my own hand, I actually feared this one. Suddenly I was just like the rest of them, running from the inevitable. \n\n\"Well we need to get him first then don't we?\"\n\nShe nodded in agreement. Though she continued to glance around. \n\n\"Come on,\" she said, \"We can go to my old house. I haven't moved in yet.\"\n\n\"You know, I have a question. Do you even remember your first life? You're probably older than me by this point.\"\n\n\"Not at all. I could ask you the same question,\" she grinned while still scanning the horizon. \n\n\"Bruce clubbed my skull open. It's how we met actually.\"\n\n\"How romantic.\"\n\n\"To be fair, I did shoot him first. Took his head clean off. He was quite relaxed about the whole thing really, which was really quite....\"\n\nMy body seized as the current ran through it. Unfortunately the lack of dying hadn't removed my ability to feel pain. It still stung like a bitch when somebody tazered you. Louise stood over me, gun in hand as she squeezed the trigger again, sending another jolt through my body. Gritting my teeth, I managed to give her an accusing look.\n\n\"I'm sorry, Felix. He threatened my family. I've gotten quite attached to this one and I don't want to lose them.\"\n\n\"You bitch,\" I managed to mutter before she zapped me again. Pulling a communicator from her jacket, she called him in. \n\n\"He'll be here soon,\" she said as her eyes began to water, \"I'm sorry,\" she continued to murmur as she waited, occasionally sending another burst through me. For such a nice girl she could be quite the bitch when she was in danger. It had taken several lives for me to understand that. She might look different each time but still the same personality.\n\nNot long after she had first brought me down, a sound behind her distracted her from me for a moment. It was all I needed. Ripping the prongs from my back I lunged at her, swinging my arm into the side of her head. She hit the ground with a meaty thud. A very meaty thud. Had I killed her?\n\n\"Oh yes, you did kill me,\" he said as he appeared, \"You dick.\" " ]	2
	[WP] Today is Wednesday	[ "Today is Wednesday.\n\nI have work at nine in the morning. I work at the bank down the street from my home. I live in a three-story apartment building, room number two-three-eight. My neighbors are quiet folk, I rarely see them and I like that. I don't have to get used to awkward \"Hello's\" in the hall, or small talk at the mailboxes. Quiet neighbors are nice. I rather like quiet neighbors. They don't get personal, they don't care, and more importantly, they don't notice anything out of the ordinary.\n\nYou are straying. Again.\n\nToday is Wednesday.\n\nI have work at nine in the morning. I work at the bank down the street from my home. The bank is a nice place. I have a lot of friends at the bank. Jacob is one of the friendliest, and he's my boss, which helps. He likes small talk, likes to get to know what you did over the weekend or the night before. I don't like small talk, to be honest I couldn't care less what you did last night or over the weekend. Honestly, who really does? Sometimes I think he does it just to make him seem more sociable. He often fires people he doesn't like. He doesn't fire me though, he likes me I think. I like him, in a way, I guess everybody likes him.\n\nNo. Again.\n\nToday is Wednesday.\n\nI have work at nine in the morning. I work at the bank down the street. I will work until noon when I will take a forty-five minute lunch break. I think I'll have salad today. I often like to have salad on Wednesday's. If I do have salad, which I probably will, I think I will go to Good Greens, it's a short walk from work. I'll sit down, eat my salad and probably check my email. Then I will head back to work. I'll probably have a conversation with Jacob, he likes to have conversations after lunch. He may even invite me out for drinks again. I think I might say yes this time. He's asked so many times. Maybe today will be the day I take him up on the offer. Maybe tonight we will hit the town, see the sights. He often talks about the sights. Maybe I'll show him my sights, take him to my safe places. Maybe I'll take him to the quiet place.\n\nAgain.\n\nToday is Wednesday. \n\nI have work at nine in the morning. I work at the bank down the street. I live in a three-story apartment building, room number two-three-eight. I will work until noon where I will then go eat. I will continue to work. Maybe Janice will visit today. I don't like Janice. She comes in every Wednesday, she's an interesting lady. Often too nice to me. She likes to talk a lot. I'm not one for talking so I usually just try to get everything done for her quickly. But then I make mistakes. I don't like making mistakes. Mistakes mean I failed at something. Mistakes mean I have to start over. I hate starting over. Starting over isn't why I did this.\n\nStop.\n\nToday is Wednesday.\n\nI did not say Again.\n\n....\n\nAgain.\n\nToday is Wednesday.\n\nI have work at nine in the morning. I work at the bank down the street. I live in a three-story apartment building, room number two-three eight. I will work until noon. I will eat at a restaurant and come back. I will continue to work. I will get off at five in the evening and I will go straight home. I will not go out for drinks. I will simply go home and, wait. Wait, that's not right. \n\nToday is Thursday.\n\nYes it is. Again.", "Today is Wednesday. Not Thursday, not Friday, but Wednesday. The worst day. If Sunday is the Lord's day, then Wednesday is Satan's day. It is a reminder when I wake up that I am not even halfway done with the week. No, that doesn't even happen until partway through today, when I am already exhausted. You would think Monday would be the worst day of the week, but nope! It's Wednesday! At least on Monday you can be optimistic that the week will be great. Even Tuesday, where you start to feel the onset of the week, is better than stupid Wednesday. Wednesday hits you. It makes you question your life choices and question your sanity. It tests you in ways you did not know possible. You think you are almost there to the weekend. I mean, you got through Monday and Tuesday, right? Wrong! Thursday is in the way of what would be an otherwise great day. You look to Thursday for motivation to help you through Wednesday, but it stands there with a cheesy grin reminding you that you are so, so close, but that tomorrow is in fact NOT Friday. How I wish Thursday was a person so I could sock them in the face. Wednesday, the opposite of all that is love and joy and peace in life. All of the world's evil lays in this godforsaken day, the real culprit!\n\nToday is Wednesday, and I do not know if I will make it this time. " ]	2

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